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safetypinxtales · 4 months

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Together with you | Azriel

(Lonely with you pt. 2)

summary: heart break sucks. Missing your friend sucks even more. It is mind-blowing what a little open communication can do.

words: 4.1k

warnings: angst with happy ending, terrible communication at parts (sorry), mention of alcohol consumption, fluff, just general misery, neutrally described reader/no reader description, no use of y/n, dumb idiots in love

notes: so this got a lot more angsty than first anticipated, but here it is! Not sure how I feel about it, I like some parts, not so sure about others - feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

part 1

Cold. Your bed was freezing cold. And empty.

Like lying on a frozen slab of stone, utterly alone and undeniably pathetic. Just as alone and pathetic as yesterday, when you woke up on the couch in the living room. No Azriel in sight. Like he wasn’t the one to practically beg you not to leave him alone, and then he went and did that exact thing to you.

It was humiliating. You were humiliated.

And that was why you had avoided him like he was contagious for all of yesterday, burying yourself in paperwork or hiding away in the library. But your plan was far from foolproof, you’d barely made it through yesterday without seeing him, so today had to be different. If being close to you was so shameful he had to sneak away before you had a chance to wake, you would simply remove yourself from the situation and spare yourself some Gods damned dignity.

You had already written to Mor, your excuse of needing to get away from the happily mated couple for a few nights only a half lie. You were in desperate need of a good night’s rest, however that was not the most pressing issue at hand. But there was no need for her to know that. Yet. She would find out eventually, she always did, and you would be stupid to expect otherwise.

Two hours past sunrise should mean that the Valkyrie training would be full and well underway, and thus it would be safe for you to make your escape. You got the things you’d need and made your way up the stairs to one of the smaller balconies overlooking the training ring. You knew you really shouldn’t, because what good would it do? But you had to. Just a quick glance. Quietly you moved towards the railing, scanning the people below.

There he was, a thing of graceful, terrifying beauty. He seemed to be demonstrating a movement with a training sword for some of the priestesses. He moved with such fluidity, wielding the sword in his hand as if it was an extension of himself. He was like death on swift feet. A fallen angel, a dark prince.

He was beautiful.

You must have accidentally made a sound, because his head shot up and his eyes zeroed in on you. Oh Gods. The intensity in his gaze, and the increasing pressure in your chest was too much. He didn’t want you.

You staggered back, one little step and you had winnowed yourself down to the city streets. This was good, you needed to get away. He left you alone. He drew back first. You knew all of this, so why did it hurt such an unreasonable amount?

You rubbed your chest in hopes of getting rid of the tightness that seemed to have moved in there since yesterday morning, and then you set course towards the one stop you had to make before getting to Mor’s.

It had been three days since you arrived at Mor’s apartment with a paper bag filled with the sweetest, sugar-powdered pastries your favourite bakery had to offer. It had taken you both approximately 20 minutes to devour them all, after which you no longer had anything to distract your friend from digging up the truth behind your visit.

You were in love with someone who did not harbour the same feelings towards you. And you desperately needed to get away from him, to save what remained of your heart.

You had cried, drank some wine, and then cried a little more. You went back to the bakery for more pastries the next day, and the cycle repeated.

The crisp, early-spring wind was a menace today as you were on your, now daily, pastry run. You were trying to stop your hair from whipping around like a being possessed, cursing up a storm, when you heard him call your name.

You froze to the spot, like his voice was some primal command. That insufferable tightness in your chest was as present as ever as you forced yourself to put on your brave face and turned towards him.

There he was, jogging towards you, his brow furrowed.

“Hey,” Azriel breathed as he came to a stop in front of you. His shadows swirled out in your direction, but retracted before they had a chance to reach you.

“Hi,” you mumbled back, suddenly finding the cobbled street very interesting.

He cleared his throat and took a step closer. You took one backwards. The cobblestone looks different here than in the alley by the bakery.

“I haven’t seen you in a while… you haven’t been home – at the House, I mean,” he coughed lightly. I wonder if it was made with, like, a different technique? Or maybe the stones are just differently shaped or something?

“Yeah, no, I’ve been staying with Mor for a bit.” It’s definitely mossier on the smaller streets, maybe that’s why? It just shifts the perspecti–

“Angel, please look at me.”

You didn’t want to, Gods you didn’t want to. But alas, you seemed to have no power when it came to Azriel.

Any other day, the worry swimming in those hazel eyes would have melted your heart. Today, it just hurt. “Did I do something? Is that why you… haven’t been around?”

You scoff, “No, you didn’t do anything, Azriel. It’s fine.”

“It’s obviously not fine! I haven’t seen you in days, and now you can barely look at me?” He exclaimed, exasperation clear in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, or made you uncomfortable – but I miss my friend,” his hands twitched where they rested at his sides, shadows swirling around him with unease.

“Oh, please,” his brows furrowed further at the dry laugh that escaped you, “Are you being serious, Az? I fell asleep in your arms, after you pleaded with me to stay with you – and then I woke up alone.” His face fell. “How do you think that feels? I mean, you must know how I feel about you!” You cursed yourself for the way your voice quivered, and that damned burning feeling behind your eyes that you were so sick of.

“What– no, I didn’t– what do you–,” he stuttered. He actually stuttered. The spymaster of the Night court couldn’t even come up with an excuse for being an ass.

“Save it. I get it – you were lonely, we’ve all been there,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I have to go.”

You turned back in the direction of Mor’s apartment, pastries be damned. You just had to get away.

Azriel had other plans though. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, the cool wisps of shadows snaking up your forearm. You couldn’t help the way you recoiled from his touch, how it seemed to ignite every nerve in your arm.

“Wait–,”

“NO!” A sob wracked your body. “No, just leave me alone, Az. Can’t you tell that you’re hurting me?” His face twisted in time with your words, and tears pricked your eyes. “Being around you hurts!”

His shadows were whipping violently around him, but he was as still as death itself. Something like dread and confusion were clouding his eyes.

He called after you as you walked away. But he didn’t stop you, nor did he try to follow you. And you didn’t dare look over your shoulder, too scared you might run back and give him the rest of your heart, shattered as it may be. No, instead you carried the shards in your hands, tears rolling down your cheeks, one after the other.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to be okay.

The bedroom door creaked open, and you pulled the duvet further over your head.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Mor said in a sing-song voice. You weren’t sleeping.

“I’m not asleep,” you muttered, huffing loudly at the giggle that escaped her.

“Yeah, well, calling you a crybaby would be insensitive so I went for the next best thing.”

Her comment made the corners of your lips twitch, and you silently cursed her for always knowing how to cheer you up. You had gotten quite comfortable in your misery.

You pulled the covers down and looked over at where she stood. Your chest grew uncomfortably tight when you saw what was in her hands.

“Another one?” You asked and rolled over to face the window. You had forgotten how stubborn he was. Competitive bastard.

“Yes, and they just seem to get bigger and bigger. I like the daffodils in this one though, very spring-esque. The other ones didn’t have any daffodils,” she mused as she walked in and headed towards the far end of the room, most likely towards the dresser. It was the only surface area not currently taken up by a bouquet.

This was the sixth bouquet he’d sent. In three days. He had turned Mor’s guest room into a damn flower shop. Just being in a ten feet proximity of this room would have sent Cassian into a sneezing frenzy.

“Remember that time in Elain’s garden, when you told me daffodils were your mom’s favourite flower? That she called you her little daffodil when she carried you in her womb? They are very beautiful – just like you.

“Yours, Azriel.” Mor read the note before carefully putting it back with the flowers.

Every set of flowers had come with its own handwritten note. He had apologised in the first one, the rest told you he missed you, recalling memories of moments you’d shared. Each one ended with a heartfelt compliment, one that brought tears to your eyes every time, without fail.

Mor let out a slight sigh. “I am fully on your side here, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but… are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? I know you’re hurt, and you have every right to be, but… he’s a good male and he likes you – a lot.”

She’s right. You figured that out two days ago. But your pride was wounded, and your trust had been betrayed, and it stung.

However, somewhere along when the initial pain had started to diminish it had slowly but surely gotten replaced by the agony of missing him. Now you didn’t know what part of the pain came from what, you only knew that it hurt.

But Gods, you really did miss him – more and more by the minute. You missed him in your bones; your best friend, your partner in crime, the male you loved.

“Alright, you don’t have to say anything. I have to visit Rhysand to go over some work though, and I won’t be home until late tonight, probably. There is food and tea in the kitchen, or you can go down to the pub downstairs and ask them to make you something. Just… make sure to go there earlier in the evening to avoid drunken idiots, okay?” You rolled over to look at your friend, who once again proved herself to be way better than you deserved. You nodded.

“Thank you,” you whispered and her lips curved upwards in a soft smile.

“Of course, take care of yourself,” she said, that warm smile still intact as she made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her.

After dragging out your stay in bed a few more minutes, the thought of a warm cup of tea became too enticing to ignore. Chucking on a thick sweater you dragged your feet out of the bedroom.

Once in the kitchen, you put the kettle on the stove and went in search of some tea. Where was the one Mor made you yesterday? The one that felt like drinking a warm, spiced hug – you needed that one right now. You found it in one of the cupboards just in time for the water to start boiling. So you made your cup of tea, drizzled in a little bit of honey, and walked out to the living room. You had just put your tea down and made your way over to the wall of bookshelves to pick out a new story to escape into when there was a knock on the door.

The way your entire body froze, yet seemed to come alive at the same time, signalled you knew who it was. How your body and soul could possibly know it was Azriel on the other side of that door, you weren’t sure. But alas, as you crossed the living room towards the entryway and tugged the front door open, there he was.

He looked tired. His eyes seemed uncharacteristically old, his skin dull and the bags under his eyes were undeniable. Despite this he still managed to look as breath-taking as always.

Those tired eyes met yours, and you swore you felt time stop. He was here. Your Azriel.

Except he wasn’t yours, was he? A truth that only stung worse when your name fell from his lips. But seeing him here, like this… you could live with never having him, you thought. As long as he was in your life, if only as a friend.

That’s why you breathed out a “hi,”, and opened the door wider, a silent invitation to step inside. His shoulders sagged in relief as he stepped over the threshold.

“Hey,” Azriel whispered on a shaky breath, as you closed the door behind him. You stood in silence for a minute, neither of you apparently knowing what to say.

Azriel was the first to break the silence, “so, uh– did you get the…”. Bouquets is what he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to.

“Yeah, yeah I did,” you mumbled, never really meeting his eyes. “Pretty.”

“Yeah? Okay,” you could see him nodding out of the corner of your eye. “Good.”

You raised your gaze to meet his, and your heart clenched. You just wanted things back to the way they were, you wanted your friend back. Because standing here in front of him, not knowing what to say was awful. So you did the only thing you could think of…

“I miss you.” Your voice wavered more than you’d ever care to admit, but there it was – the truth.

Azriel’s shoulders visibly shuddered at your confession. “Oh, angel,” it was your time to shudder. “I’ve missed you too, so much. I’m so sorry,” his eyes glazed over as he continued, “but please believe me when I say that I did not know – about how you felt. And maybe that makes me stupid, and blind, and oblivious–”

“No,” you interrupted him, “you’re not any of those things, Az.” His deprecating words wounded you so deeply, a heavy sadness filling your chest.

“I should have known. I never would have– I wouldn’t have been such a coward if I knew.” You swore you heard the remnants of your heart crack.

“Azzy…” You stepped towards him and reached up to cradle his face in your hands. His own hands flew up to your wrist and you prepared for him to reject your touch.

Only he didn’t.

Instead he gently held your hands in place and leaned into your touch in a manner so tender your breath hitched in your throat. His thumbs swiped across the backs of your wrists.

“I’m sorry, I got all up in my head and I–,” you didn’t let him finish.

“It’s okay Azriel, I forgive you.” His posture straightened a little as you continued, “I’m sorry too.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and before you could even register it happening, Azriel had pulled you into a hug. He wrapped an arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he held you against his chest. He was so warm, and comfortable, and safe, and one tear became two, became three. All the while, Azriel held you, wings enveloping you in a cocoon as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair.

After what felt like hours, but was merely just minutes, Azriel dropped his wings from around you and as you felt his arms ease their hold on you, you took half a step back. His hand that had cradled the back of your head now cupped your cheek, the other came to rest on your hip.

You dried your tears, ungracefully wiping snot from your nose, and you once again lifted your head in search of those hazel eyes you had grown so in love with. And as your gazes locked – that’s when you felt it.

Like the snap of a bowstring, dead center in the middle of your chest, that glowing, golden thread locked into place – forever connecting your soul with the male across from you.

The impact was so intense you staggered back, knocking into the end table behind you. Your hand flew up to your chest, fingers clutching the fabric of your sweater as you tried to make sense of what just happened.

Azriel is your mate.

Does he know? Does he even want you? A thousand thoughts swarmed your head, but they were all overpowered by one: mate. He was your mate.

Azriel stood, one arm still partially outstretched, eyes wide and brow furrowed. Something like bewilderment filled you to an overwhelming degree, and it took you a moment to realise that the feelings did not belong to you. They were all Azriel, unable to keep his emotions from bleeding across the bond to you.

“You’re my–,” you stuttered.

“Yes,” he breathed in response.

“I– I’m your–”

“Yes,”

“You knew?” His eyes shuttered at your question.

“Yes,”

You had to sit down.

You wobbled over to the couch and dropped down. You didn’t even realise he’d followed you until you felt the seat dip beside you.

He seemed to realise words were not something currently in your possession, and took it upon himself to start to explain.

“You were sleeping, had been for probably an hour at least, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I have–,” he swallowed and his whole body shook as he professed his next words. “I have been in love with you since the moment I saw you. When Rhysand introduced you to everyone and you were trying to sneak glances at all of us, thinking you were being discreet. You weren’t – quite the opposite actually.” You turned your head to look at him. One of those rare smiles decorated his face as he recalled the memory. “I think everyone noticed, but no one said anything. They were all probably as smitten by you as I was. Not only were you so adorable, you were the most divine female I had ever seen. Your eyes shone so brightly, and you radiated such calmness, such security – like every problem that had ever been wasn’t so bad after all. Like everything was always going to be fine, as long as you were around. You looked heavenly. Like an angel.” He whispered the last part and as his eyes met yours you sucked in a breath at the emotion swimming in them.

Angel. His dedicated pet name for you. What he had been calling you, and only you, since that very first day. Not only were you the only person with that specific pet name – you were the only one of Azriel’s friend to even have a pet name, you realised. Sure, he referred to Rhysand and Cassian as his brothers. But you were his angel.

“You love me?” You croaked, fresh tears filling your eyes.

“Yes, I do.” You hiccupped, face twisting as your chest filled to the brim with so many emotions you could not possibly name them all. He took your hands in his, and gave them a light squeeze as he continued, “When we were on that couch I was just… watching you. Holding you. Realising how perfectly you fit in my arms, when you moved. You snuggled deeper into my chest, like being close to me was an instinctual need, and then you sighed, and you smiled in your sleep – and I couldn’t breathe,” he took a deep breath, “that’s when the bond snapped.” You wanted to reach out and smooth out that crease between his eyebrows. Instead you just moved closer to him, pressed yourself into his side, and when he looked down at you, you gave it your best at pushing some of that endless love you held for him down that glittering bond.

A sharp exhale left his parted lips and he gave your still entwined hands another squeeze. When he looked at you his cheeks were tinged with pink, the tips of his ears flushed.

He loved you.

He was your mate and he loved you.

“I was so shocked. Why would it snap now and not earlier?” He shook his head, his eyes not once leaving yours. “Then I started to… doubt myself,” his brows furrowed deeper, “what if you didn’t want me? I didn’t even know if you knew. Knew and… and decided you didn’t want to be with me. The Gods know I don’t deserve you.”

You couldn’t help the broken whimper that escaped you as you listened to this wonderful male voice how lowly he thought of himself.

“Don’t say that Azriel,” you croaked, your voice thick from crying. “I love you so much. I look at you and my heart fills to a point where I genuinely think it might burst,” you coughed out an attempt at a laugh. “You are a good male, and I could not imagine a greater honour than the Mother choosing you as my mate.”

A single tear rolled down Azriel’s cheek at your confession. You untangled your hands from his, instead crawling into his lap. This wonderful male, and he was all yours. The love that filled your chest felt so secure, so safe. Like the warmth of the morning sun. Like the smell of freshly baked bread, and early morning bird song. It felt like the beginning of something great.

You raked your hands through his hair, and as you leaned in to kiss that lone tear away from his jaw, you watched his eyes shutter closed.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, your forehead coming to rest against his, “my mate.”

His hands found your hips and gripped them tightly, and the touch was more than welcomed. If it was up to you to decide, he would never let you go – forever in each other’s embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered once more, breath hot against your lips. “I shouldn’t have–… please don’t leave me again.”

“Never,” you promised, and then, like waves crashing ashore, you leaned in that last bit and pressed your lips to his.

His entire body shook beneath you as he reciprocated the kiss, moulding his lips to yours and you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly right it felt. Like coming home. And as your lips moved together that glowing thread became a wild, real, physical thing between you. His hands gripped you tighter, like you were his lifeline. Pulling you impossibly closer, as if you were the air he needed to breathe. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and your lips parted, letting your tongues meet in the most delicious of ways.

The kiss was claiming, overpowering and you could not help the whine that escaped you as his fingers dug into your sides. A primal growl rattled deep in his throat, alighting every nerve in your body.

This.

You wanted to stay right here, just like this, forever.

You didn’t know how long you actually did stay like that – the two of you seemed to, again, be able to defy the concept of time together. But you were now laying on the couch, Azriel’s heart drumming a steady beat in your ear, a warm, overwhelming comfort overtaking your body.

Slowly, you started to feel yourself drifting off to sleep, and with your head on his chest, his arms around you, the opening and closing of the front door and Mor’s voice that followed, felt so very far away. You almost didn’t apprehend what she said as her voice moved in closer.

“You better not leave her this time,” she ordered, and the rumble of Azriel’s voice, how very safe it made you feel, lulled you deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

Your body was impossibly heavy, the words he mumbled into your hair the last thing you registered before sleep claimed you.

“I won't,” he pressed a kiss to your head, “never again.”

tags: @hnyclover @justdreamstars @historygeekqueen @sharknutz @icey--stars @mel-wcst @alysena2 @lewsnumerounofan

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #lonely with you

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caffeinewitchcraft · 2 years

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Narrative Town

Summary: You don't ever want to be the main character. In your town, that's deadly. Someone has to warn the new kid.

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Someone has got to tell the new kid in town the Rules.

“Hey,” you say.

The new kid looks up at you. He’s sitting at his desk in the back corner of the classroom, right next to the windows. It’s a chilly day, but he’s got the window open so that the breeze ruffles his curly, black hair. “What’s up? Fern, right?”

“Don’t call me by my name,” you snarl. Then, realizing what you’ve done, you look over your shoulder. The other teenagers are still looped around the teacher’s desk, trying to get Ms. Slauson to move the test date so they could organize a welcome part for the new kid. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”

The new kid leans back in his chair and studies you. You know what he sees – a completely average high school girl in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a ponytail. There’s nothing remarkable about you. He tilts his head. “You don’t look like a bully.”

You frown. “I’m not.”

“You’re being awfully threatening,” he says in a drawl.

The accent is going to be a problem. It’s southern and sounds really cool. Honestly, it might be too late for him already.

But you still have to try.

“Meet me on the rooftop—no!” You press the heel of one hand against your eye. Fight it, you tell yourself. Fight it! “Meet me at the supermarket on Western Street. The dairy aisle. After school.”

“Okay…?”

You spin on your heel, head throbbing. Meeting on the rooftop is against the rules. You glance up at the ceiling uneasily. You’re not usually affected by the compulsion so badly. Are you being targeted?

If you were smart, you wouldn’t show up to the meeting. You’d just let the guy get sucked into the madness on his own.

But you also really need to buy some milk.

---------------------------------.

To your surprise, the new kid meets you in the dairy aisle after school. He actually gets there before you and you find him frowning at the selection.

“I’ve never heard of these brands before,” he says. He points to one. “Moo-ilk? That’s not a thing.”

“It is here,” you say. Like you’d hoped, the supermarket is nearly empty. It won’t stay that way for long. “That’s what I need to talk to you about, new kid.”

He turns to look at you. You’re tall for your age, so you stand eye to eye. “My name is Caiden.”

“I know,” you say. “You should stop telling people your name, especially when it’s such a cool one. It’s safer to just be a nameless face in the crowd.”

“That’s deep,” Caiden says. His drawl is clearly sarcastic. “That can’t be what you wanted to tell me.”

It’s not my problem if he doesn’t believe me, you tell yourself. You take a deep breath. “It’s part of it. This town is magic and the school is the heart of it. It forces people to live out popular tropes. If you’re popular or interesting in any way, it makes you the main character.” You take in the number of pockets on his black pants. “Unfortunately, you’re probably the coolest person to transfer ever and the magic is going to target you big time.”

Caiden stares at you. “You’re saying magic is real.”

“Yeah,” you say. You glance over his shoulder towards the front of the store. You can see shadows slanting through the windows as the sun starts to set. “All sorts. It depends what type of story you get pulled into.”

“But the main magic,” Caiden says, “is in the town itself which forces people to act like main characters?”

“Some people,” you say. You point at his trio of long necklaces. “Is that a wolf?”

Caiden looks down at the metal pendant. “It’s my favorite animal.”

“You are in so much danger,” you marvel. That’s the coolest thing you’ve ever heard. He also has a necklace that looks like an ancient coin and the other is a shark tooth. “The magic is definitely going to make you a main character.”

Caiden opens his mouth, closes it, then asks, “Are you insane?”

It really depends on what he thinks insane means. But going into that actually does make you sound insane, so you just sigh and shake your head. “You don’t believe me.”

“No.” Caiden doesn’t sound angry. He almost sounds apologetic. “I don’t.”

The bell at the front of the store rings. You reflexively look to see who came in. You see tennis rackets and gym clothes before you make yourself look away. A sports team, probably from a rival school. That…could be safe. Or safer. If they’re the first people he runs into, he might actually survive without having to believe you. “That’s fine. You do you.”

“…okay?” Caiden says.

He doesn’t follow you as you grab a gallon of milk and beeline for the self-checkout. You pass the tennis team in the aisle. They smell like sunscreen and don’t notice you dart past them.

“Hey,” you hear one of them say. They’re looking at Caiden. “I’ve never seen that guy around before.”

Another one hums. “There’s something about him. He looks…strong.”

“Why’s he just standing by the milk?”

You grab your purchase and calmly walk out the door.

------------------.

It’s a month after Caiden first transferred when he marches up to your desk after the last bell rings and says, “You. I need to talk to you.”

You look up at him from under your bangs, hands stilling on the open textbook. Caiden looks a lot different. He’s always dressed in a tennis club uniform now and his wild, curly hair is held away from his face by a sweatband. He’s a little sunburned and there is a bandage wrapped from wrist to shoulder on his right arm. Your eyes dart down to see a matching bandage wrapped around his left ankle.

“Please,” Caiden says when the silence stretches too long. His voice cracks. “I was wrong. I was—”

You close your textbook with a snap. You weren’t really studying anyway. Studying makes you look like a background character, but the ace of the tennis team coming to talk to you cancels it out. “There’s a dentist on 3rd Street. Meet me there in an hour.”

“A dentist?” Caiden asks, bewildered. He dumbly moves out of your way when you stand to go. “Why a—”

“Not here,” you hiss. “Dentist office.”

You rush out of class before anyone notices him talking to you.

-------------------.

The first time this town killed one of your friends, you didn’t know about the magic.

You were just a kid, barely thirteen, and new in town. You didn’t know what you were doing when you decided you wanted the quiet girl in class to befriend. Jeanine always sat by the windows, staring out into the school’s courtyard by herself. Her black braids swung on either side of her face and her glasses were pressed high on the bridge of her nose.

You introduced yourself to her, complimented her on her book, and asked if she’d like to have lunch. Sometimes you remember the smile she gave you in that first moment. Surprised, vulnerable, secretly pleased. You treasure that moment where you were just two girls looking for friends. You remember all her smiles over that blissful period where you went to the bookstore and the library, to the movies and to sleepovers, to parties and to concerts.

Sometimes remembering those smiles even helps you forget the painful one she gave you before she lost her life saving yours.

-----------------.

Caiden is pacing in front of the dentist’s office when you arrive. The street is deserted and there’s a faded Closed sign in the window.

Caiden jerks his thumb at the sign. “It’s closed.”

“Yeah,” you say. There’s a little bench in front of the office where patients are invited to wait for their appointment. You take a seat and gesture for him to do the same. “Very few stories start at the dentist and, those that do, always start when it’s open. It’s unlikely we’ll run into any trouble here.”

Caiden clutches his bandaged arm, looking over his shoulder as if checking for pursuers. “So location is part of it? Even just…walking down the street can trigger it?”

“Depends which street,” you say. You twist so you can put one foot up on the bench, angling your body towards him as he sits next to you. “Setting is an important part of the story.”

“Okay,” Caiden says. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth. “Sorry. I just—sorry. Thank you for talking to me. I know I didn’t believe you—”

“It’s hard to believe,” you say, “even without the magic.” You nod your head at his arm. “You okay?”

Caiden looks down at his arm as if he forgot about the bandages. “Oh, this? I’m not injured.” He unravels the strips to show unblemished skin. “Mark – the tennis team captain? – he’s worried about spies from other schools. I’m pretending to be hurt so they think I’m out of commission.”

“Thus giving you the element of surprise when you face them at Nationals next week,” you say with understanding. You eye the other bandage. “And your ankle?”

Caiden laughs. It’s not a joyful laugh. It sounds a little hysterical. “No, no, that’s real. I got invited to a drama club after party and spent most of Saturday night running away from a werewolf. I sprained it in the woods.”

“The Drama Club President is a werewolf,” you say. If he’d believed you a month ago, you would have warned him. You were there when she got bitten, but you managed to escape that particular story by pretending to faint. “She’s really had a lot of character growth since she got bit. She used to be super mean before.”

“Oh, as long as it’s for character growth,” Caiden says sarcastically. He scrubs a hand over his face. “We barely got away. It was only because the track team was there that we managed to run her into exhaustion.” He looks up at you. “I think—I think she’s going to kill someone one day.”

“She already has,” you say. When Caiden’s eyes widen, you wave a hand. “It was a bad guy who was trying to turn our entire school into werewolves. We actually owe her a lot for managing to contain that particular plot.”

“How is she going to put that on a college application?” he asks.

You point at him. “See, that right there is why you’re already so deep into a story. Being funny when you should be panicking is basically a requirement for protagonists.”

“I’m panicking,” Caiden assures you. He points to himself emphatically. “I’m definitely panicking.”

“Good,” you say, “that means the magic doesn’t have complete control over you yet. I was worried. Nationals isn’t supposed to be for another four months. I thought the accelerated schedule was a sign you’d completely become the main character.”

“How do I get out of this?” Caiden pulls at his jersey. “I don’t even like tennis! I don’t even know how I joined the club, I didn’t sign up for anything. I don’t know how I got the equipment. My dad didn’t buy it for me.”

“Those details aren’t necessary for the story you’re in,” you say. You pick up your backpack and unzip the main pocket. “I have some Rules to avoid getting sucked into a role. No meeting people in Big Settings, first of all.”

“Big Settings?”

“The lunchroom, the roof, the community pool, the lake, a love interest’s house, anywhere after curfew, etcetera,” you rattle off. You pull out a copy of The Rules and hand it to him. Even now, the mix of your handwriting and Jeanine’s sends a spike of sorrow through you. “There are some pretty specific ones on there too. I suggest you read through them all and pick out the common themes.”

The sun is getting dangerously low. You keep one eye on Caiden as he scans through the six pages of photocopied rules and one eye on the street. A couple cars pass by, but they’re all normal sedans. The moment you see a motorcycle or a van it’ll be time to leave.

“I can’t have an accent?” Caiden looks up from the paper. “But I’m not from here! How can I control an accent?”

“You can’t,” you admit. “But don’t use any region-specific idioms. That should help.”

Caiden points at the page. “Do not go to the library’s second floor?”

“Do not go to the library’s second floor,” you agree solemnly. When Caiden stares at you, you relent. “It’s super haunted. Also all the books in the back corner are cursed.”

“How do you know that?”

“They look super cursed. In a town like this, if it looks cursed, it’s cursed.”

“I guess I can’t say I don’t believe you,” Caiden mutters. “Werewolves are real, I’m pretty sure my club captain is some sort of spymaster, and I saw a kid fall four stories and land on his feet yesterday.”

“That’s Mark’s little brother. He’s got some sort of budding superhero thing going on,” you explain.

“Superhero implies the existence of a supervillain,” Caiden says.

“I try not to think about that.” A car turns onto 3rd Street a little too quickly. You tense and watch as a bicyclist comes screeching around the corner and pedal furiously in pursuit. “Time to go. Sunset is when rising actions get to climaxes. Read the Rules. We’ll talk about how to get you out of your current story tomorrow.”

“Wait!” Caiden scrambles up after you. “I can’t wait until tomorrow! Who know what will happen by then? A stalker could climb the trellis outside my window, or my house could catch on fire—”

“Do you have any little siblings?”

“No? What—”

“Are you going to be out after curfew tonight?”

“No, but my parents—”

“Your house won’t catch on fire then,” you say. “You’re a main character right now. The magic won’t give you a tragic back story when you’re there to stop it. I’d leave now if I were you. There’s about to be a police chase down here.”

“How could you know that?” Caiden cries out.

“Did you see that bicyclist just now?”

“From a minute ago? Yeah, but—”

“We’ll talk tomorrow. If the police see you here, you’ll get dragged into it as a witness.”

As if on cue, sirens start up a couple blocks over. You duck into a side street without waiting to see if Caiden understands.

-----------.

Your parents stop talking when you come through the front door. You set your backpack down slowly, taking them in. They’re sitting on the floor of the living room with a whole pile of newspaper articles and printed Wikipedia pages between them. They’re both dressed in all black and your mom has a grappling hook over one shoulder.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Costume party,” your dad says.

“Collage for my book club,” your mom says. When she hears your dad’s answer, she nods quickly. “My book club which is also a costume party.”

It’s sad to see your parents caught in the magic like this. You remember them when you were little. Your mom was an accountant, and your dad was one of the best mechanics in your hometown. Sure, they’d still been a little…odd. Your dad taught you to hotwire a car before you learned how to change the oil and your mom would bring you along into corporate fraud investigations, but that was what they wanted. Now their eccentricities make them main characters.

“Sounds fun,” you say with false cheer. You desperately want to beg them not to do whatever they’re planning. You want to plead with them to be safe. You want your dad to quit adding spy-like features to the family car and for your mom to stop breaking into the town museum. But you aren’t strong enough to protect them. You’re only strong enough to protect yourself. “I’ve got a history test tomorrow, so I’m going to study in my room. I’ll probably have my headphones in so I won’t be able to hear anything. Try not to scare me.”

Your mom’s eyes light. “We won’t bother you, sweetheart. Do you want to take some snacks to your room? So you don’t have to come in and out.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Does it hurt your parents are so eager to get you out of the way? Yes, but at least it’s an attempt to protect you.

You let your parents give you some mixed nuts, fruit, and popcorn before heading up to your room. While they plan whatever heist they’re doing tonight, you’ve got planning of your own. Caiden’s in a pretty tame story, but it’s still a story.

He’s got to get out as quietly as he can or else things will get messy.

----------.

“Let’s meet in the lunchroom after classes,” Caiden says the next morning. The circles under his eyes are even darker than they were yesterday, but his eyes are bright and alive. He ruefully gestures to his tennis uniform. “Before practice.”

You raise an eyebrow. The lunchroom will be empty, students choosing to use the more comfortable chairs and tables in the multipurpose room or library to study. “I’m impressed. That might be the only time the lunchroom will be safe.”

“I finally did my research,” Caiden says grimly. He flinches when the classroom door opens but recovers quickly. He walks away from your desk as if only passing by it, smiling easily at a fellow tennis player when they greet him.

“Hey,” the girl at the desk hisses at you. She’s a lower-level antagonist, easily identified by the bubblegum she’s always chewing. The teacher is always yelling at her for it, but she never gets in trouble unless the magic needs her to be a background character in detention. “Is it just me or is Caiden talking to you a lot?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. You frown at her like she’s the strange one, not you. “Are you feeling okay?”

Flustered, she pops a bubble and turns back to the doodles she’s scratching on her desk. “Never mind.”

Whew. That was a close one. Her words could’ve triggered a romance plot between you and Caiden with her as the third wheel. You’ve seen more than your fair share of those pan out. Best case scenario, one of you would end up studying abroad for a year. Worst case, one of you would end up dead.

Your heart races a little. Frowning for real, you press a hand to your chest. Could…could you actually have a crush on Caiden? After a moment, you shake your head. That’s ridiculous. You’re probably still feeling the adrenaline of escaping the pull of a story.

Even now, after four years, avoiding the magic still feels like a victory.

----------------.

The thing is, you used to love the magic. When Jeanine first showed you how to watch people, it was like TV come to life. The teacher is in a slow-burn romantic comedy with the principal. The tenth grader who just passed you in the hall is actually one of the most respected journalists in town. There’s going to be a musical number in the park after school because the eggs the biology club has been looking after finally hatched into the cutest baby ducklings.

You loved it. You and Jeanine would race around after school every day to check in on each story. You remember the way her jacket would puff out behind her as she jumped the last few steps in front of the auditorium. The glint of the sun off the barrette in her hair that matched the one in yours. The joy when she would turn to smile at you like what you were witnessing was for just the two of you.

It got to the point where you could guess what sort of story someone would get caught in. You and Jeanine used to place bets on the genre, the cast, the ending. It was a game. It was all a fucking game until it wasn’t.

You were naïve. You thought that being watchers protected you from the bad endings. The Rules…you thought yourself clever for making them. You never saw how incomplete they were. That’s why you didn’t notice when Jeanine became withdrawn. She never told you about the threatening letters that started to show up in her mailbox. Her parents were always away working and she didn’t have anyone to turn to.

She should have turned to you. You believe that now. If she’d just come to you sooner, then the weight of the story you’d gotten yourself tangled in would have been bearable. Or maybe you should have been able to see it. You were right there, watching. You should have seen the mysterious cloaked figures. You should have known.

You didn’t know soon enough.

Jeanine died saving you.

And now it’s your turn to save someone else.

-----------------------.

The end of the school day can’t come soon enough. When the bell finally rings, you make yourself count to ten before standing up.

Rule 14: Never be the first one out of class.

Rule 27: Never be the last one out of class.

You exit exactly in the middle of the pack. To your delight, Caiden is only a few people ahead of you. He read the Rules and he’s following them. That means this morning wasn’t a fluke. He’s still not completely bound by the magic.

He can be saved.

“Alright,” you say when you reach the lunchroom. Like you’d hoped, there’s no one there. You slam you backpack on top of a table and start pulling out folders. “I’ve got a couple ideas on how to get you out of your story.”

Caiden twirls the racket in his hands. “Can’t I just quit the club?”

“No, that’ll just turn it into a story about getting you back in time for Nationals,” you explain. You flip open the first folder. “One option is to get arrested for something. Sure, it’ll make you a criminal for a little bit, but your team won’t come looking for you. Heck, they might kick you off the team entirely.”

“If they’d come after me for quitting, don’t you think they’d just bail me out?” Caiden asks.

You pause. You didn’t think about that. “Would they even have the money to do that?”

“Mark’s estranged Dad is a millionaire,” Caiden says. He pulls out his phone and flips to a picture. “Here he is on a yacht.”

“I don’t really pay attention to the adult stories,” you say. You examine the picture. Yep, that’s definitely the start of a millionaire romance trope. “Good thing my parents are still together.”

Caiden frowns. “Mine aren’t.”

“Don’t let either of your parents meet Mark’s Dad,” you say apologetically. You flip to the next folder. “Next option is to pretend to be possessed by a famous tennis player. Then, when you lead the team to victory, you say it’s because of the ghost, the ghost gets exorcised, and the team loses interest in you when your abilities fade.”

“That’s pretty convoluted,” Caiden says. He pulls the folder towards him and examines the doodle of a ghost you did. “You don’t know if I’ll lead the team to victory.”

You scoff and gesture to him. “Look at you. Of course, you will.” Before he has a chance to respond, you reveal the last plan. “That’s why I think this one will work. Instead of leading the team to victory, you become a supporting character.” You open the folder to reveal a picture of Mark. “In short, you make Mark a main character.”

“What?” Caiden yelps. He casts a guilty glance towards the front of the lunchroom, making sure no one in the hall heard him. He lowers his voice. “You want me to sacrifice Mark? The guy’s already been through a lot!”

Caiden looks awfully heroic with the way he’s squared his shoulders. He’s genuinely a good person and if you’d meant to sacrifice Mark in his place, you’d feel very villainous right now. “No,” you say, “don’t you see? Making him the main character will actually help him.”

“How?”

“His little brother’s got powers and his dad is, apparently, a millionaire.” You hesitate. You don’t really want to say it, but you don’t think Caiden’s quite understood what it means to be surrounded by main characters. “The way it is now, Mark is in danger.”

Caiden goes still. “What?”

“What’s more powerful than a superhero fighting to protect his brother’s memory? Or a millionaire who only needs the right romantic interest to recover from the grief of losing his eldest son?” You flip over the page and grab a pencil. You draw a circle on one side of the page. “Imagine that’s a superhero story.” You draw a dot in the circle. “That’s Mark’s brother. He can only be affected by superhero-related things as long as he’s in that circle. Their dad’s millionaire-romance story won’t stop him from being a hero, just like his son being a hero won’t stop their dad from becoming a sugar daddy for some lucky single in town.”

“Definitely keeping my dad away from him,” Caiden mutters.

You draw another circle and put another dot in it. “That dot is their dad. He’s protected from any superhero stuff because he’s the main character in the romance stuff.” Between the two circles, you draw a third dot. “In the center? That’s Mark. And right now he doesn’t have a circle to protect him from the superhero stuff or the romance stuff. Do you understand?”

“You’re saying that Mark needs to be a main character so he doesn’t become a tragic backstory,” Caiden says. He scrubs a hand over his face and collapse onto a chair. “This stuff is messed up.”

“Sometimes,” you say, “being outside the magic is just as dangerous as being in the magic.”

That’s what you and Jeanine never understood. There’s a difference between being a background character and being an exception. Exceptions make great protagonists. When the sorcerers that live in the park noticed that you and Jeanine never fell under their hypnosis, they took interest.

Deadly interest.

“Hey.” Caiden reaches out to place a comforting hand on your arm. “You okay?”

You shake yourself. The quiet of the lunchroom makes you feel like you’re the only two in the world. It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to talk to someone that’s not under the town’s magic. You swallow. “My friend,” you say without really knowing you’re going to say it. “The one who wrote the Rules with me.”

“Jeanine?” Caiden asks gently. When you shoot him a surprised look, he says, “You guys signed the Rules.”

You’d forgotten about that. You hardly ever read the Rules anymore. You know them all by heart. You nod. “Yeah. She saved my life. The town isn’t evil and the magic isn’t all bad. But when it’s bad, it’s really bad. You’re doing Mark a favor by making him a main character. You might even be saving his life.”

That seems to break through to Caiden. He takes his hand off your arm, eyes far away as he considers that. When he looks back at you, there’s no resolve in the set of his jaw. “Okay. I’ll do it. How do I make Mark a main character?”

You pass the folder over to him. “It’s all there. You’re going to have to go to Nationals but, after that, you should be back in the background. Just like me.”

“Perfect,” Caiden says with a sigh. He stands, taking the folder with him. “I gotta get to practice.” He pauses in front of the door. “Will you come see us at Nationals?”

“Probably not,” you say. You scrunch your nose. If you go and meet Caiden after the game, you could be in danger of triggering another romance plot. You start packing up to hide your blush. “I’d hate to be caught up in a sports story.”

“Right, rule #35,” Caiden says, laughing a little. He looks awfully cute when he laughs. “If you’re good at sports—”

“—no you aren’t,” you say with him. You grin and wave him off. “See you later.”

Caiden glances down the hall for other students before leaning back into the lunchroom. “Thanks, Fern,” he whispers and then disappears out the door.

Your face feels hot as you make your way home.

-------------------.

You find yourself at the park the day of Nationals. You can’t bring yourself to watch Caiden. On paper, the plan is simple. He has to let Mark play all the singles and, if he plays doubles, Mark needs to be the one to score the most points. Or whatever the right terminology is. Even if it wasn’t dangerous to know too much about sports, you wouldn’t care.

Jeanine would care.

You wander past the kids’ playground and head across the lawn to where there’s a cluster of birch trees. In your mind’s eye, you see this place four years ago. It was night then and there weren’t any kids on the swings or parents idly chatting around the water fountain.

No, it was dark and empty and the only sound you could hear was the harsh panting of your own breath and the slow, rhythmic chanting of the sorcerers about to sacrifice your best friend.

Jeanine was an exception. She was someone who’d grown up here her whole life but was just…average. Average grades, average looks, average worries. Average. She was never compelled into a story as a kid. She wasn’t called on to fight dragons and she wasn’t recruited to be a child spy. She was just Jeanine.

The birch trees are looking a little weak. You stop just where the grass changes to dirt and stares up into their thinning canopies. Good. You hope these trees die. Then the sorcerers trapped inside of them won’t ever emerge and, at last, Jeanine will be avenged.

“If that’s even possible,” you say absently,

The truth is some days you feel like you killed her. Jeanine was average. You were the transfer who knew how to do too many things. You were the one the town took an interest in. Of course it did. You were a 13-year-old who could hotwire a car and who regularly broke into corporate offices searching for dirty books.

Jeanine saved you. She saved you from all the fates she’d seen her classmates fall prey to over the years. She taught you how to watch. She taught you how to survive. Sometimes you wonder why she did that for you, knowing what it could potentially (and did) cost her.

The truth is you would have done the same for her.

You kick at a root with real anger. When the magic couldn’t drag you into a mundane story, it escalated. The sorcerers that lived in seclusion on the other side of town got tipped off. They made a prophecy.

A prophecy about you.

You know the story that you should have had. You were supposed to be a lonely transfer student with only one shy friend. You were supposed to be excited when the sorcerers came to recruit you into their epic fight against evil. You were supposed to learn their spells and their ways and forget all about the normal life you once led.

Jeanine noticed the hooded figures first. She intercepted them before they could get to you. That’s what finally caught the magic’s attention. Here was a girl who would do anything for her friend. A beautiful girl with quick wits and an amazing loyalty.

Here was an obstacle that the sorcerers had to kill. Here was the final piece of your tragic backstory.

But Jeanine didn’t let that happen. Quietly, desperately, she worked to change your fate and, in exchange, sealed hers.

There is a reason that there aren’t any prophecies in town anymore. Jeanine’s sacrifice not only saved you, but everybody else from that fate. She gave her life to seal the sorcerers here, in these woods where they’d meant to kill her and take you away.

What you’re doing for Caiden isn’t like what Jeanine did for you. He’s not in danger of being whisked off into another dimension or being tortured by power you’ll never understand. He’s on a tennis team he doesn’t want to be on. But you’re teaching him like Jeanine taught you.

You just hope he sticks around long enough to learn.

----------------------------.

You get to school early on Monday. It’s against the rules, but you can’t help it. You need to know how Nationals went. You need to know if Mark won the title for them or Caiden.

You see the back of Caiden’s head in the hall outside of class. Your heart races. “Caiden!”

Caiden turns. When he sees it’s you, he raises two fingers in the air. “We won!”

Your heart sinks. “No, I’m so sorry—”

“I mean, I didn’t win,” Caiden says. He gestures down at himself. “Look! No tennis uniform!”

For the first time you realize that Caiden’s wearing normal clothes. Black cargo pants, a Henley, and boots. Normal clothes might be a bit of an overstatement. You try to focus on the positive. “Nice job! Did Mark score the last goal?”

“Not how that works in tennis, but kind of,” Caiden says, grinning. “He got scouted. That means he’s the main character right? He’s safe?”

“Yeah.” You eye Caiden’s necklaces. He’s still got the wolf pendant and the shark tooth on, but now the ancient coin has been replaced by a tiny sword. “I don’t think you’re in the clear yet though.”

Caiden deflates. “What? Why not? Can you see something on me?” He turns in a circle as if looking for note that says main character stuck to his back.

“You’re still way too cool,” you say. You point at the sword necklace. “Where did you get that?”

“Found it on the ground,” he says.

“Oh my god, take that off right now,” you say.

You’ve really got your work cut out for you.

-----End----

Thanks for reading! I love writing semi-meta stories like this and you know it’s not the last you’ll see of Narrative Town!

I post all my stories early on Patreon (X) Join me there to read stories a week ahead of time and to see exclusive continuations!

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Summary: When Shireen's city falls to a Supervillain, she knows there aren't any Heroes to save the day. So she does in more ways than she knows.

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#my writing #second person #long post #meta writing #of a kind #Caiden is Too Cool #Fern is a mother hen

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

The Gray Sweatpants | Rooster x Reader

Summary: For you and Bradley, sharing a home comes easily. He is always willing to put in the extra work to make you happy, and he will do it wearing his gray sweatpants and a smile.

Warnings: Fluff and smut

Length: 2100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order! Based on a request.

Living with you was an interesting change of pace for Bradley. He had gotten so used to tiny living quarters and never sharing anything. But now you were here in this big house, along with all of your colorful stuff, and your perfume, and your kitchen gadgets. And you wanted to share everything with him.

Not a day went by that you weren't wearing his clothing and using his shaving cream in the shower. And you always offered to share your food with him, holding up a sandwich or forkful of food for him to take a bite. You always seemed to be around asking about his day and giving him all of the details of yours, delivered with your own brand of wit and humor that never failed to have him wrapping his arms around you.

It was one of the first Friday nights after you moved into his house, and now it was your house, too. Every time he got to use the word "ours", it made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain.

"I was thinking we should plant a garden in the backyard," you said, feeding Bradley a bite of your dinner from your perch on his lap. You were wearing one of his Top Gun shirts and nothing else, and Bradley couldn't imagine living here without you. "I mean, San Diego kind of sucks for flowers, but we're hardy east coast people. We should have a garden."

"We would have no street cred if we didn't have sad, dying, east coast people flowers," he replied, delighting in the sound of your laughter.

"Exactly! Plus, the backyard is a little scary, Roo. I'll help you clean it up on Sunday, if you want."

"Sure, Baby Girl. We'll see."

But he had something else in mind now.

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

You woke up on Saturday morning to an empty bed and groaned. Bradley knew you had particular rules concerning him staying in bed with you on Saturday mornings. And you expected a certain level of compliance.

"Bradley?" you called as you stumbled into the kitchen where you found him brewing coffee and eating some toast in just his gray sweatpants.

"Morning, Sweetheart," he rasped, but your mouth had gone dry. You must still be in bed, asleep and dreaming. That was the only way this would make sense.

You made a soft, strangled sound as Bradley reached up into the cabinet and grabbed your favorite mug. "Want some coffee?"

"Bradley," you whispered. He wasn't even wearing any underwear. You could see the outline of his cock pressing against the soft fabric as the pants hung low on his hips.

You were taking a step closer to him, ready to drop to your knees when he said, "You'll be late for brunch with Cam and Maria if you don't leave soon." You had completely forgotten about your plans.

Your eyes slid up his naked torso until they met his smirking face. "Why are you not wearing underwear?"

He suddenly looked embarrassed, cheeks flushing pink. "I actually need you to show me how to use the washing machine. I'm almost out of clean clothes. Can you show me after brunch?"

You glanced at the clock on the microwave and sighed. You didn't even have time to properly blow your boyfriend like you wanted to. "Yeah, I'll show you after I get home, Roo," you whispered, running your fingers along his length through his pants.

"Oh fuck," he grunted when you cupped him and squeezed softly. He pressed you against the edge of the counter, and you could feel him getting hard for you.

But you just stuck your chin in the air. "Next Saturday, make sure you stay in bed with me longer." You ducked out of his grasp with a grin while he groaned your name. "Oh, and I don't want to be late for brunch."

You got ready to go out, and when you passed him in the kitchen before you left, he was eating more toast and glaring at you.

"You gonna come back and take care of this later?" he grunted, gesturing to his semi.

"Sure, Roo. Right after we do your laundry," you said with a wink. He just grunted in response before you added, "And make sure you don't go out in those pants. They are indecent!"

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

As soon as you were gone, Bradley thought about jerking off, but he knew he had a limited amount of time before you would be home again. So he quickly put his old sneakers on along with his aviators and traipsed out through the sliding glass door to the backyard. You weren't wrong; it was in pretty rough shape.

Bradley kicked over a faded lawn gnome and opened up the shed. He pulled out some shovels and a rake that the previous owners had left, and he got to work. An hour later, he was shocked to find that there was in fact a garden bed buried back along the privacy fence. He dug up dead plants and weird lawn ornaments, tossing everything off to the side to get taken out with the trash.

He stopped working for a minute to wipe the sweat from his brow. The sun was strong even for early December, but at least it wasn't too hot outside. And now, as he looked around, Bradley was pleased to see that the whole space looked a lot better. His girlfriend wanted a garden? Well then she would get one.

"Roo?" you called from the sliding glass door. You were grinning and heading his way with a cold water bottle. "What are you doing?"

He took the drink from your hand and downed the entire thing before he answered you. "Making the yard nicer for you. Check it out. A garden bed."

But you weren't really looking at the yard as much as you were looking at him. You wrapped your arms around his sweaty torso and kissed him. "You're so sweet."

He grinned down at you but didn't dare touch, not wanting to get your cute dress all dirty. "We can go to the nursery tomorrow and pick out some flowers if you want. We can plant them...." His word trailed off as you bit your lip and slipped your hand inside the front of his sweatpants.

"I've been thinking about this since I left for brunch." Your voice was soft and breathless as your fingers teased his length before you wrapped your small hand around his cock. "Been thinking about these gray sweatpants."

Bradley let you ease the fabric down until he was fully exposed. You were licking your lips and moaning softly. He knew exactly what that meant.

"God damn it," he groaned as you dropped to your knees on the grass in front of him. He was standing in the center of the yard, looking around to see if there was any way one of the neighbors could see what was going on. But when you kissed and licked away his precum before parting your lips and taking his tip, he decided he didn't care.

Bradley reached one big palm to the back of your head and guided you along. You took him a little deeper, looking up at him as your mouth filled up with each inch of him until your lip was brushing his coarse hairs. You gagged a bit, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked on him. "You're such a good girl. I'll give you anything you want."

You moaned around him, your tongue swirling along the underside of his entire length until you pulled him out to the tip. You kissed him sweetly and softly asked, "You know what I want, Roo?"

Bradley shook his head a little bit, dazed as you let his cock rest against your plush tongue. He was panting now and twitching as your hot breath teased his dick.

"You tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

You giggled and smiled up at him with half lidded eyes as your tongue caressed him. You kissed his swollen tip and nuzzled him with your nose before you said, "I want you to fuck me. Right here. In our backyard."

Bradley hauled you to your feet by grabbing your elbows. You squealed with delight, but he hushed you with one hand over your mouth. "I'll give you what you want, but you have to behave. You want our elderly neighbors calling the cops, because they think I'm back here trying to murder you?"

You groaned and licked Bradley's palm, gripping his cock with both hands. "Please, Bradley. Please make it so good that it sounds like that!"

His hand drifted down to your neck, and he led you to the side of the shed, stroking your soft skin as you practically purred for him. His hard dick bounced along, hanging out over his sweatpants as he backed you up against the small building. "Okay."

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

You were so turned on for him, and you blamed it all on his sweatpants. He had no idea what he was capable of in those things. But without underwear? Bradley Bradshaw should have been illegal.

And now he had your back pinned against the shed with his huge hand on your neck while he reached into your underwear and started to finger you.

"Oh," you gasped, admiring the way his aviators were sliding down his nose while you rode his middle finger. The pressure on your throat wasn't enough to hurt, but it was enough to make you feel like you were no longer in charge here. And that feeling excited you.

Bradley's thumb stroked your clit, and you cried out for him. "Shh, be a good girl," he whispered, kissing your lips one time while his middle finger pressed forward on your most sensitive spot. When you whimpered, he kissed your forehead and said, "Yeah, nice and quiet, Baby Girl. Show me how good you can be."

You kept your little noises as quiet as you could, moving your hips in time with his thumb stroking you. When you were close, Bradley slipped his finger out of you, leaving you whining his name. He spun you to face the shed, yanking your underwear down so the lace brushed along your legs before they hit the ground. You planted both of your palms against the siding as Bradley pulled your dress up to your waist, fully exposing you to any neighbor who could have potentially been a little too nosy.

"Oh my god," you groaned as Bradley planted his left hand above yours and guided himself inside you with the other.

"You're so fucking wet." His voice was deep and needy as he fucked you, placing his hand on your pussy. He let you rub yourself against him as he bumped you along with his thrusts.

"Bradley." The second syllable was much louder than the first, your voice rising in pitch with pleasure. "Fuck!"

"Shh," he scolded once more. "Quiet, or I'll stop."

It was an empty threat, you were sure of it. He must be beyond the point of no return, but just in case, you covered your own mouth with your hand. He had you pinned tight between his pelvis and his palm, grinding against your butt, and holding you in place.

The beautiful friction of his palm had you clenching and cumming as your orgasm washed over you suddenly. "It's so good," you whined, needing both hands on the shed to keep yourself upright. "You're so good, Roo."

The string of obscenities he muttered next to your ear were nowhere near as filthy as his cock slamming into you and filling you with his cum. He used your pussy to drain him of every last drop as you pulsed around him, and when he withdrew, you felt your thighs get coated with his mess.

You spun around to face him, eyes wide. "I can't believe you fucked me in the backyard." Your eyes dipped down to his cock, softening and dripping your mixed ejaculate all over those gray sweatpants.

He tipped your chin up and looked at you over the top of his aviators. "You tell me you want something, I'm going to give it to you. Especially if it's my cock."

You grinned and kissed him before adjusting his sunglasses. "Let's go inside. We have even more laundry to do now." You tucked him back inside his sweatpants before stepping out of your underwear. "Don't forget those," you said, pointing to the scrap of lace in the grass.

You watched Bradley bend down and pick them up, bringing them up to his nose with a grunt as he followed you inside.

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

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kingkatsuki · 6 days

Text

I started this in March and I finally managed to finish it. It was only supposed to be a short thirst post but yet here we are. Thank you if you decide to give it a go💕

Summary: Tengen thinks Sanemi is wound far too tight, and of course he knows just the way to fix it— by taking him to his favourite brothel.

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, reader is a courtesan, implied!Tengen using their services, virgin!Sanemi, sex as a transaction, slight degradation, praise, blowjobs, cum swallowing, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, Sanemi is way too obsessed with reader way too fast (but she likes it!!)

Word Count: 9.4k.

“Allow yourself to indulge a little, my friend,” Tengen clapped his shoulder with a grin, “After all that’s what this district is for.”

“I have no time for indulgence.” Sanemi scoffed, ripping his shoulder out of Tengen’s grip as he bared his front incisors.

It was already insufferable enough that he’d had to spend the last few nights with the Sound Pillar, but it was made worse by the grand spectacle he’d made when they’d both entered the entertainment district for the first time. The bright lights paired with the bustling crowds seemed to evoke even more intolerable actions from Uzui and Sanemi couldn’t wait to get home.

“There’s always time for indulgence, my friend,” He persisted, not taking his answer for gospel as he continued down the brightly illuminated street, “And don’t you want to experience the soft touch of a woman?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Sanemi sneered, rolling his eyes as Tengen waved over at a group of women who were standing at the entrance to an establishment trying to coax him over.

All Sanemi wanted to do was find a bed at the local inn and rest his head for a few hours so he could be alert when searching for the demon that was rumoured to be sighted in the area. It disgusted him that people were seemingly still out satiating themselves with cheap frivolity when lives were at risk.

“You can’t die a virgin,” He continued, mid-wave, “How embarrassing.”

“You need to assess your priorities if that is what you assume to be an embarrassment.” He snapped, “Not when there are still demons alive—”

“Ah, I worry as much as you,” Sanemi highly doubted it, “But You never know you might find yourself relaxing a bit.” Tengen persisted, “Might find yourself less angry.”

Sanemi sneered as he balled his hands into a fist, preparing to land a strike against his cocky fellow hashira before Tengen pulled back the purple fabric to a building at the side of them, stepping inside the brothel.

“You can wait outside if you want, I’m sure you’ll find the street performers more than entertaining.”

Sanemi glanced towards the rowdy men who were currently playing instruments in the middle of the street, the loud noise irksome as people stopped to dance with them. Scrunching his nose in irritation as he turned to face the Sound Pillar.

“Fine,” His lips smoothed into a thin line, “But you’re fuckin’ paying.”

Sanemi lingered outside as he stared at the wisteria pattern against the curtain. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought before he took a deep breath and followed inside.

“Ah, Mr Uzui, your usual?”

“Not today,” He clapped a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, “I’ve brought a friend.”

Sanemi could see the girls in the background begin to cower away, even though they tried to hide it. Shrugging Uzui’s hand off his shoulder with a growl of irritation as he tried to avoid the pairs of eyes watching him intently, jaw locked as he sucked in a breath of air.

“How wonderful, Uzui-sama.” The lady bowed as she motioned to a young girl, “Our Oiran is unavailable now, but I’m certain she will more than suffice.”

The girl cowered in fear as she was given a push in her lower back in an attempt to get her feet to start working, the poor thing. She’d barely been here a week and she’d already had a difficult afternoon with a travelling samurai who’d assumed being rough was included with the price.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Shinazugawa.” Uzui called out from behind him as Sanemi glared in irritation. There was certainly no chance of that happening, especially at the sight of the young girl that looked close to tears.

“It would be my honor to serve you tonight, my Lord.” You chanced stepping forward, feeling your Madame turn to glare at you.

“Remember your place,” She jeered, the same sickly sweet smile on her face to mask her indignation before turning back to the hashira, “I’m sorry, Shinazugawa-sama. Please let us show you to your room—”

“I want her.” He cut her off coldly, tired eyes matching your gaze as an unfamiliar heat lingered in your chest.

“Not to question your choice, my Lord. But we have many excellent options here—”

“Keep them.” He stepped towards you as you took this as your moment to turn around. Ignoring your Madame’s calls for him to enjoy his night, and request a change at any time if he so desired. It was no wonder she was worried about you tarnishing her reputation, trying to palm to hashira off on someone far more weak willed. But you were intrigued by the man from the moment he stepped through the door, and the poor girl needed a chance to recover from her ordeal.

You could practically feel his eyes on you as you led him down the wooden hallway towards your room, keeping enough of a distance as you slid the screen door open gently. Stepping to the side to invite him in with a slight bow of your head as the white-haired man followed into the room, scrunching his nose at the potent smell of flowers that permeated the air as you closed the door behind you. It was sickly sweet, worse than the ohagi he’d cook at home; invading his senses as he tried to ignore the scent throbbing at the back of his skull.

You could feel how awkward he was, lingering by the doorway as you could cut the tension in the air with a blade. Smoothing down the front of your kimono as you stood in front of him, noticing the way his lavender eyes took note of the futon in the corner of the room.

So this was the seedy shit that Uzui got up to in his free time? Sanemi scoffed.

An impertinent man with three wives who still managed to find the time to spend in the arms of another. Having one woman would be enough of a nuisance, he thinks. But juggling four sounded like pure greed.

“Can I get you anything Shinazugawa-sama?” You smiled, “Tea? Sake? We also have fresh onigiri—”

Sanemi wished you’d stop calling him that. He usually delighted in the honorific when he was called it by others, but the saccharine lilt to your voice as you danced along his name had his cock pulsing between his thighs uncomfortably.

“No.” He bit back the insult that threatened to follow as you nodded in affirmation.

“Well, you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable for your time here,” You continued, “Our services are open to the Hashira for as long as they see fit.”

He scoffed at that, knowing that a Hashira’s pocket was rarely empty so it made sense they’d want to make as much money from them as possible.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You smiled softly, noticing he was silent as he remained still. The cogs in his head slowly turned as he wondered why he’d even agreed to this in the first place, how he’d even made it this far.

“You think I’m scared or somethin’?” Sanemi gibed, maybe a little harsher than intended, but it felt warranted. Your words made it seem as though you were questioning his valour. And Shinazugawa Sanemi never backed down in fear, especially not like this.

“No,” You tilted your head to the side and Sanemi felt his heart rattle at his cages with how cute you looked. Trying to fight the heat that was slowly rising through his body and tickling the tips of his ears.

He felt hot. If he’d have known this was how easily it was to increase his body temperature warm enough to potentially receive a mark, he would’ve demanded that Uzui bring him here a long, long time ago—

“I can just tell you’ve never been here before,” You hummed, “It’s probably unfamiliar to what you’re used to.”

You were right. Sanemi felt completely out of his depth.

“I have no desire to frequent a whorehouse.” He spat, masking his vulnerability. And yet he was acutely aware of the way you didn’t flinch like many would, cowering away from him in fear as though he were a coiled snake ready to attack.

It was at that moment your eyes met his across the room, and for the first time, he recognised the desolate emptiness in your eyes. He recognised it because it was the same one he held whenever he glanced at his reflection. So much time spent wallowing in self-loathing and pity, forcing himself to submerge himself in sheer hatred instead of looking at the ones around him. Sanemi could tell you’d been through a lot too, suffering at the hands of many while being forced into a life you’d never wanted for yourself. Much like him.

“But you’re here anyway, so you might as well relax for the time,” You smiled back, and it only pained him more that he’d spoken to you with such callousness, “And at least you can avoid your friend for a few hours.”

“Is that what all your visitors come here to do?” He sneered but did not attempt to move.

“To linger in the doorway?” You raised a brow, “No, you would be the first.”

Sanemi felt a heat rise all the way to the tips of his ears at this, noticing he’d barely stepped inside the room since you’d brought him this far.

“I don’t bite, you know.” You laughed as you watched him frozen in place.

Could you tell he was a virgin? He wondered if it was obvious from the way he lingered as his body became engulfed in flames. Willing the ground to swallow him whole at the prospect of appearing so inexperienced, and he was surprised at how much he cared.

“We have many people that come here just to talk,” You smiled, settling down into a kneel, “But you don’t seem like much of a talker.”

But that’s not why he was here, he thinks. The proposition had been offered to him, and Uzui had certainly never mentioned talking. “The perfect medicine!” He’d clapped him on the back as he’d led him towards the establishment, a haughty smile on his face. Sanemi was here to try and settle his temper, to blow off some steam. And yet here he still stood stoic in the doorway, silence hanging in the air.

“Well, if you don’t like to talk. Maybe you’d like to watch?” You offered up the option, as Sanemi froze.

What?

He was certain he wouldn’t make it from this room alive, spending years fighting demons only to be scuppered by a beguiling temptress like you. Positive Uzui had fed him to the wolves the moment he stepped through the doors to this establishment and pulled back the curtain.

Sanemi’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips, a futile action when his throat was this dry, as he played back your offer in his head. The words echoed in his ear as he wondered how he was supposed to receive them, whether he needed to say yes or if you would be so kind as to show him exactly what you meant.

He’d never thought much of laying with a woman before. His line of work failed to offer much chance of finding a suitable wife and settling down, even though Uzui had managed to find three. More interested in ridding the world of the scourge of demons instead of cheap frills and frivolity. Sanemi’s only glimpses of breasts had been in onsens or walking through the Red light district. Enough to have his cock pulsing between his thighs as he fought the temptation, but nothing like how you made him feel standing in front of him right now.

“Uzui-sama had said to show you—”

“Can’t you just get on with it?” He cut you off, definitely a little harsher than intended. But it’s to be expected when he’s like a wild deer backed into a corner, as you mentioned the shepherd that had dragged him to the slaughter.

He was going to kill Uzui-sama when he got out of this, he scoffed, the man probably only attended the house to hear that honorific.

“Of course, Shinazugawa-sama.” You smiled, as Sanemi’s eyes now focused on your smaller hands teasing the opening of your kimono, his cock bucking under his pants at the same honorific, “So you can learn how to please a woman.”

Sanemi didn’t want a woman, he had no intention of pleasing anyone. And yet he found himself wondering on what it would be like to please you. Whether your eyes would roll, or your toes would curl. Thinking about the saccharine sigh of his name tumbling from your lips when he had you on the crux of your bliss. And then he began to wonder whether any man had ever pleased a woman inside these four walls, whether a man had ever pleased you—

“Is that even important?” He scoffed, lips coiled into a sneer as you sat back on your haunches.

“Well, it depends. I’m sure as long as you have a woman to lay with you’ll find your pleasure,” You smiled, finding no offence in his question, “But if you help her find her pleasure you’ll be far more satisfied.”

Sanemi felt the heat inside him start to burn as you pressed him to stay. Telling himself it was out of pure intrigue as he lowered his sword to the floor, his palm still clasped over it as he made his decision to stay.

You managed to get him to kneel, although he positioned himself with one foot on the ground. Knee bent as though he was preparing to flee the scene the moment this became too much.

“So you’re only here because of your friend?” You posed the question to him in an attempt to break the ice, though it was more than obvious to be true.

The hunched shoulders and flushed cheeks made it wholly apparent that this wasn’t one of his usual haunts. And that the Hashira felt extremely out of place—

Awkward.

“He seems to think I’m wound too tight,” Sanemi grunted, eyes focused on the way you languidly disrobed.

If he had the confidence he’d reach across the room and pull the haori down your shoulders himself, telling you to hurry up. He’d never witnessed someone take so long to disrobe, although he supposed this was some sort of show you were supposed to put on for the drunken men who frequented the establishment. So he held back, watching as the fabric finally pooled around you.

“So he brought you here to let off some steam.” You smile, beginning to work on the buttons at the front of your kimono.

“And what say you?” He sneered, “What do you think?”

“I’d say your job is difficult,” You whispered, slowly pulling back the front of your kimono to expose your naked breasts to his prying gaze.

Sanemi didn’t say anything, but you noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Nostrils flaring as he exhaled softly as the fabric fell around you to join your haori.

“It’s no wonder you have so much rage inside.” You continue, hands delicate in your lap as you allow him to look at you, “It’s okay to let it out. To release some tension—”

You were right, Sanemi supposed. Although since being inside this building he somehow felt worse— the tension continuing to build inside his abdomen as his pelvis tightened uncomfortably, his heavy cock throbbing with desire as it pressed against the front of his uniform. Shifting his thighs as he tried to give himself some slight relief from the incessant throb, as you did little to satiate it when you began to tease your naked breasts.

“Are you a virgin, Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked, although you were certain you already knew the answer.

“What’s it to you?” He mocked, “You’re just a common whore ready to spread her legs. It’s your job—”

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” You smile softly, finding no malice in his words. It was clear he was trying to deflect your question, as though the answer burned him to say, “I was certain you wanted to talk.”

You were worried you may have pushed him too much, that he would turn and flee the room and leave you naked and alone. Or worse— attack.

You’d had it happen before. Men who would enter the building of their own free will, before turning on you at the last moment. Hands wound tight around your neck as they blamed you for cheating on their wives, for making them do this. And it wasn’t just the men who had nothing else to lose; the ones that would spend their final gold on a night with a woman. These were respected members of society— samurai, business owners, and demon slayers. And perhaps that’s why every other woman had cowered in fear when the Wind Pillar had stepped through the door, because they expected nothing less from the ruthless Hashira.

But he looked vulnerable.

“If you don’t want to talk,” You continued to pull back the fabric of your kimono to expose your naked frame to his lilac eyes, the material cascaded down your body and onto the floor as you allowed him to drink in the sight of you. His eyes roamed your naked skin as they followed a path along your sternum, between the valley of your breasts until they settled on your chubby mound, “I’m certain there are other things we could do that would please you.”

Sanemi’s throat seized as he watched your hands reach up to mould against your round breasts, the skin dipping beneath your touch as you let out a soft, satisfied gasp. A sound that sent jolts of electricity surging through his veins. Enough to have his hands balling into tight fists that settled on top of his thighs as blunt nails dug into his palms, focused on the way your nipples hardened as you pinched and rolled them between your thumb and forefinger.

“You can touch me, you know,” You murmured, “I don’t mind.”

Sanemi swallowed thickly at the invitation. It was why he was here, after all. But somehow it felt daunting to reach out and close the gap, unsure where he should even start with you as he stayed stoic across the room.

You chanced scooting towards him across the wooden floor, settling yourself in front of him as you reached out to grasp one of his tightly closed fists. Gently prying his fingers open as he allowed you to contort his hand, splaying his fingers as you laced your fingers through his own, threading them together as your warmth engulfed him.

The action felt too intimate, which felt peculiar to say when he was sat opposite a half-naked stranger. And yet, he found himself not wanting to pull away. He leaned into your touch, his palm squeezing yours as you took it for reassurance, a soft smile on your face as he found himself beginning to relax.

“It’s okay,” You cooed, “We can just sit like this if you’d prefer.”

You were delighted when you felt the tense muscles in his hand begin to relax as his clenched jaw softened.

“Or we can tell your friend we did everything you wanted,” You continue with a laugh, “And that way it wouldn’t be a lie.”

And Sanemi wished he could put all his wants into words. The thoughts that now ran rampant through his mind as he breathed in the candied scent of you, feeling you lean closer to pepper gentle kisses to the side of his jaw. Tickling his skin against the growing stubble that left a shadow as you moved forward to place your hand flat against his muscular thigh.

“There wouldn’t be a need to lie.” Sanemi’s voice was rough like gravel as he tried desperately to wet his tongue, the roof of his mouth giving no appeasement as his Adam’s apple bobbed thickly.

“Oh?” You murmured, feeling no hint of him pulling away as you leaned back to face him. Your breath fanning his skin as you looked at him through thick, long lashes. Sultry eyes flickering towards his chapped lips before returning his gaze, “So what would you like us to tell him?”

“W-what?” Sanemi stuttered, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic.

“What is it you’d like to tell him?” You smiled softly, your hand slipping higher along his thigh, “What stories do you want to return with?”

And now Sanemi was certain this was the closest he’d come to death.

“Maybe I can suck your cock?” The words almost had him falling apart as he focused on every syllable, unused to someone speaking to him with such candour.

“Uh- yeah.” He felt the embarrassment begin to bloom inside him at his pathetic response as his eyes bore into your own.

You managed to get him on his back, chest heaving as you began to unfasten the belt around his hips. Watching the way his gut clenched in anticipation as you palmed him softly through the rough fabric, causing his hips to buck as he cursed beneath his breath.

“You feel big, Shinazugawa-sama.”

“Call me Sanemi.” He barked back gruffly, wanting to hear the sweet sound of his name leave your lips instead.

“Of course, Sanemi.” You cooed. Never making it to the futon as you straddled his thighs where he lay on the hardwood floor. Shrugging off the rest of your kimono to leave your body completely bare above him as he had to try to remember to breathe.

It was difficult to think when he noticed just how close your bare cunt was to his crotch, certain he could feel the warmth radiating from it against his thigh as you began to tug his pants down. Enough to free his aching cock as it drooped hard and heavy against his pelvis, long enough to follow the curve of his hip as the uncut tip leaked pearlescent beads of pre. Your stomach swirled at the sight of him, what he lacked in size he made up for in sheer girth. Thick, bulging veins forking along his girth as you imagined how he would feel buried inside you, the stretch as he fucked to into the shape of him. The thoughts had your neglected cunt throbbing around nothing as you felt warm slick begin to pool between your thighs.

“I was right— you are big.” You noted, wrapping a slender hand around him at the base as his hips jerked in surprise. Biting back a sharp hiss from between clenched teeth at the sensation as his palms instantly balled into fists at his sides.

“Is that what you say to every man that passes through here?” Sanemi spat, but he secretly hoped this wasn’t the case. He was filled with the incessant desire to impress you, to have you fawning over him. Even though none of this was real.

“No, actually,” You smiled, “I think it might actually hurt if you fuck me.”

Sanemi’s cock kicked with your blase tone, certain he was about to come undone from your words alone. But as if that weren’t enough, he felt himself choking back a grunt when you leaned down to press a lingering kiss to his leaking tip. Licking your lips to taste his pre as you stared up at him from under thick lashes, “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Sanemi almost snorted at this. As though he wouldn’t be able to overpower you and push you off in an instant, you wouldn’t stand a chance—

“Oh, fuckin’ shit—” All conscious thoughts were ripped away from him the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock. Catching you by surprise as his hips jerked roughly, forcing more of his length inside your wet mouth as the heady tip of his cock pressed against the back of your throat. The sudden motion caused you to gag as you pulled back to cough and splutter, and Sanemi felt downright depraved when he throbbed at the sight of you. Strings of spit mixed with his pre connected him to your mouth as he groaned, noticing the fat tears that now clumped in your lashes as he tried to remember to breathe, “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“It’s okay,” You brushed him off with a smile, your warm palms stroked softly against his hairy thighs as he tried to calm his body down, “I actually liked it.”

You liked it? Gods, you were certain to be the death of him.

You took him into your mouth again as he fought back the urge to cant his hips forward, growling when your tongue began to trace the bulging veins along his length. Hollowing your cheeks as you began to gently bob your head along him as the hand wrapped around his base began to massage his heavy balls.

It was no wonder Uzui always seemed particularly cheery if this was what he got to experience at home. Sanemi’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he clenched them shut, positive that one look at you with your lips wrapped around him would have him coming undone in an instant.

“You can hold my head, show me what you like.” You murmured against the tip of his cock as you pulled back for air before swallowing him again. Coaxing him to touch you, to move you how he’d like to be treated, and Sanmei wondered why he should even bother when this already felt like heaven.

The whiny, desperate whine that vibrated around his cock the moment he held the back of your head in a large palm was his answer. Your throat instantly tightened around him as he swallowed back another debauched moan, tightening his grip as he began to help you bob your head along his cock. Careful not to hurt you as he pushed you down so the tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat with each downward motion, something that had him leaking even more pre as the salty taste dampened your tongue.

Sanemi could already feel his balls tightening in anticipation, your movements sending him closer to bliss as he used your mouth for his own pleasure.

There’s something about being the only person to see Shinazugawa Sanemi like this. A strong, powerful man who strikes fear into the hearts of many brought to his knees as you tower over him.

His cheeks blaze fiery red as the bloom spreads to the tips of his ears as you wrap his cock into a gentle fist, squeezing the base as he tries to stop his hips from canting forward pathetically. The noise that spills from his lips is more akin to an injured animal as he tries to stop himself from spilling his release so easily. But this is exactly what you do to him, the only person that can make him feel this way.

“Do something.” His tone is cold and brash, but there’s no real malice behind it as you have him as close to begging as you can.

Your fingers slip lower from his balls as you run your thumb along his taint, dipping into the sensitive skin as you have Sanemi’s hips bucking wildly as he catches you completely off guard as he cums with a depraved snarl. Hot, sticky ropes of cum spurt from his pulsing cock as you catch them in your mouth, coating your throat in his potent seed as his chest heaves from the intensity. His hand remains rough at the back of your head as he forgets his hold on you, keeping you pinned on his cock as he fills you with his release.

It’s only when you splutter that Sanemi realises his hold on you, pulling away as though he’s been burned as his lilac eyes stare down at you with worry. Watching you quiver as you cough and splutter again, as he sits up in an instant to cup your neck and assess if you’re okay.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” He rasps, his cock still half-hard and doused in your spit as it hangs between you. “I didn’t mean to— are you okay?”

And for the first time, it feels as though he’s let his walls down. The worry in his tone, paired with his wide eyes show you the concern that you hadn’t expected from the harsh Wind Pillar when he’d first entered the room, and yet here he was offering you more kindness and compassion than a lot of your previous visitors.

Your throat burns, but you answer him by parting your lips and lolling your tongue out so he can see that you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he’d given you. An action that already has his cock stirring for more attention as Sanemi bites back the harsh groan that threatens to rumble deep in his chest at the sight of you.

You really had no idea that you’d be the complete undoing of him, he supposed as he allowed his thumb to brush against your soft cheek. Smiling when you leaned into his touch, still settled between his thighs.

He decided at that moment he’d quite like to kiss you. Uncertain if that was even something people did in these establishments, whether you’d even allow him to. Wondering if you’d ever wanted to kiss any of the men you’d spent time with working here, whether you’d even want to kiss him. Remembering that this was probably nothing more than a job to you, another way to pay off your debts and get yourself out.

He’d get you out if he could. Spare you from all the disgusting, rowdy creeps that you have to deal with daily and protect you from the horrors of this world.

“Are you okay?” You tilted your head to the side as Sanemi was brought back from his thoughts.

“Weren’t you gonna show me how to please a woman?” He ignored your question as his chapped lips brushed against the curve of your jaw.

“Oh,” Your cheeks flushed with a delicate flourish as warmth bloomed across your skin, “Oh, yeah.”

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’d even be able to handle his touch on your skin. Your cunt already throbbing wanton and desperate with need as your slick began to soak your inner thighs, positive no one else had made you feel like this before.

Reaching out to wrap your smaller palm around his wrist as he allowed you to move it how you pleased, lifting it to move it to settle against one of your soft breasts.

“Oh,” You heaved a sigh as your fingers stayed wrapped around his wrist as Sanemi began to clench his fingers, barely a squeeze as though he was worried about hurting you as you coaxed him for more, “That feels good.”

The words seemed to encourage him as he began to massage the soft skin, calloused fingers grazing against your sensitive nipples that had you crying out for him. Pleased when he took the initiative to give your other breast the same attention, your cheeks flushed as he stared shamelessly at your exposed skin.

Reaching down you circled a hand around his thick wrist, raising his hand as you placed his calloused palm against your warm breast. Thick lashes fluttered on impact as you looked down at the way he encompassed it, fingers barely flexing as he noticed the way his hand circled it. You ground your hips against him, his semi-hard cock poking into the swell of your ass as you remained seated on his abdomen. The motion pressed you harder against his hand as he began to clench his fingers, squeezing the supple skin as a breathy whine escaped your lips.

Sanemi hadn’t seen many breasts, but he was certain that you were the prettiest by far. Gaining more confidence as he started to squeeze at the soft skin, his thumb grazing over one of your hardening nipples as it stiffened to a taut peak. Biting down on glossy lips you watched him focused and intent, giving the same attention to the other side as he began to palm them both.

Sanemi inhaled softly when your fingers began to busy themselves with the fastenings of his shirt, spreading what little was left to push it off his shoulders along with his haori. Your eyes trailed over each raised scar that marred his perfect skin, fingertips delicately brushing over each line of rough skin and puckered flesh. Giving the same amount of attention to each one, knowing that they all held their own story. Spending slightly longer on the long ones that crossed against the front of his chest, dangerously close to his heart as your palm stopped against his sternum to feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Sanemi had never found his scars repulsive, but for some reason beneath your gaze, he felt self-conscious. Worried that you may find him hideous and cower away from him like most others did. Others, whose opinions he didn’t care about, but yours?

“I know they appear ugly.”

“They’re not ugly,” You hum softly, “I’m just sorry you had to go through the pain to receive them.”

Some scars run deeper, ones that don’t mark and marr his skin. The ones that permeate through to his heart, twisting and contorting as they sear into him hotter than any flame. Demons that keep him awake at night as he’s forced to relive the moments he’s received them, times that he’s faced certain death— and perhaps he deserved it. The pain of receiving them was often forgotten by Sanemi. The hurt and damage from each scar would never equate to the feeling of seeing his loved ones slain, from losing his family.

“But each one tells a story,” You continued, smiling softly. Fingertips stroking over the raised scars there, following the damaged skin as you mapped out every curve and ridge. “Each one holds a reason as to why you’re still here.”

Sanemi had never had someone touch him like this before, he’d never been handled with such care. It was at that moment that Sanemi decided he didn’t want you with anyone else, that you were his and only his.

“We all have scars, but some we try to hide more than others.” You hummed.

Fuck it. He thought as he reached around your neck to pull you into a fierce kiss, catching you off guard. His teeth clashed against your soft lips as he fought to deepen in, inexperience shining through his actions as his nose bumped yours roughly. His movements were sloppy and unpractised as he was far too chaste; too eager. Your lips follow along with his to try and guide him, your tongue teasingly laps at the corner of his lips and he does little to stop you. Trying to anticipate your movements as his lips fall open, granting you entrance as you smile against him.

Your fingers splay against his jaw, holding him steady to help slow him down. Moving your lips with purpose as your tongue brushed past his parted ones, delving into his mouth as you swallowed the moans that vibrated at the back of Sanemi’s throat. Tilting your head to deepen the kiss as you felt his arms encircle you to pull you closer, tightening his grip on you as if no matter how close you were it would never be enough.

His still half-hard cock is trapped between your bodies as you shamelessly roll your hips, pressing your lower half against it for some sweet relief as your cunt virtually burned with neglect. You’d never felt so on edge as you were tempted to reach down and press two fingers to your puffy clit to give yourself some respite. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by the perceptive Hashira who broke the kiss to stare between your bodies.

Sanemi’s fingers were warm as they brushed through your messy folds, hiding your face in his neck as you felt his knuckle graze your clit. A whiny, breathless sigh warmed his skin when he felt your tight hole begin to catch against the calloused pad of his finger.

How were you this fucking wet already and he’d barely touched you? Was this all for him?

“Please,” You murmured. Sanemi felt you roll your hips against his hand, as though you were trying to drop yourself down on his finger, eager for stimulation. Granting your wish as he slipped a solo finger inside you, baulking when he felt how warm, wet and tight you were.

Sanemi wasn’t foolish, he knew about sex. But he just had no idea that this is what you looked like down there, what you felt like. How was he supposed to fit his cock inside here when you were this tight? Surely he’d split you in two.

The moan that left your lips was debauched, and the sound surged directly to his cock. Swallowing thickly as he pressed forward again, letting the calloused pad of his finger press against your velvety walls. Trying to draw another noise like that from your throat.

Sanemi was gentle and precise compared to the other men that frequented the establishment, so used to your pleasure being unimportant as they were quick to push into you with little care or decency. Fulfilling their own needs and leaving you a crumpled, fragile mess after with comments on how thankful you should be that they were helping to pay off your debt. Glad that most men that you encountered seemed to only want comfort, a warm body to lay beside so they could fool themselves for a moment that they mattered to someone.

“Is this okay?” His voice was laced with uncertainty, his finger plunging into your tight sex as he grazed your ridged walls.

“Curl it,” You murmured, breaking off into a high-pitched gasp when he brushed against the sensitive spot inside you. Your reaction was an indication he’d found what he’d been searching for as he focused his movements against it. Deft and precise as Sanemi began to pump the lone finger in and out of you, lilac eyes focused on the way your face contorted in pleasure.

“Yeah?” He hummed in satisfaction, “You like that?”

Your cunt clenched around him in response, biting down on your bottom lip as you found yourself rolling your hips in tandem with him, moving one of your hands from his shoulders to slip between your bodies to join his as you pressed slow, precise circles against your needy clit.

“What are you doing?” His voice turned to a deep snarl, brows furrowed as he watched you touch yourself in front of him.

“Touching my clit.” You gasped as he knocked your hand away roughly, moving his thumb to press blindly against your slit to replace it.

“I’ll do it,” He growled, the authoritative lilt to his tone had you trembling as he made rough strokes in an attempt to find your sensitive nub, “There?”

He questioned as he rubbed the junction of your labia, pressing against your folds as you tried to lift your hips to position his hand.

“No,” You murmured, holding his wrist before moving your slender fingers towards his thumb to press the pad of it flat against your clit. Whining on contact as his touch felt instantly better than your own, “Here— can you feel it?”

“Yeah,” Sanemi released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in as he began to press tough, persistent circles against it while curling his finger inside you.

“Add another finger, please?” You begged, moving your hands back to his broad shoulders to support yourself as you continued to match his movements.

“Yeah?” He murmured, pressing both fingers against the spongy spot inside you as he began to thrust them languidly, tilting his head back to stop you from shying away from his gaze as he watched your face morph into pleasure, “You like that?”

“So good,” You affirmed, feeling the coil inside you start to wind and tighten as Sanemi focused on your pleasure. Certain your cunt was drooling into his open palm as he followed your movements, pressing deeper each time you tried to roll your hips, “I’m close.”

“Then cum.” His voice commanded, his tone curt and domineering as you found yourself succumbing to the pleasure that threatened to spill over. Your cunt clenched desperately around his digits as you came with a choked gargle of his name, white spots blanking your vision as your entire body convulsed. Sanemi’s other hand splayed flat at the arch of your back to stop you from toppling backwards as he continued to press messy circles into your throbbing clit, prolonging the sensation, “Good girl.” The words had you throbbing as he helped you ride out your bliss.

“I—” You panted, at a loss for words as your nails dug into the delicate skin on his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped moons in their wake that Sanemi hoped would scar.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” Sanemi grunted, and you had to rip his hand away from your poor sex when the sensation became too much. Already feeling him forcing you towards another—

“You shouldn’t be so good at that, Shinazugawa-sama.” You groaned in satisfaction, pulling back as you noticed his cock practically leaking against his chest from the sight of you. Leaving silvery lines of pre against his skin as he sat hard and ready for you.

“What did I say to call me?” He rasped.

“Sanemi,” You breathed, and the Wind Pillar was certain he would never tire of hearing his name flow from your lips.

Was it normal to fall in love the first night with someone? With a courtesan no less. Sanemi wondered how many men had stepped through the doors of this house with the same question, returning to spend the night with a woman who was only interested in how deep their pockets were. But it somehow felt different with you— the look in your eyes made it feel like it was something more than just a transaction. And well, if it wasn’t Sanemi was positive he’d give every last penny he owned for one more night with you.

“It’s okay if you want to stop,” You smiled gently, hoping that he wouldn’t. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing as you yearned for him, wanting to feel him stretch you out in the most intoxicating way.

You were certain it was going to hurt judging from the sheer mass that was now resting between your thighs, thick and heady. Feeling the tip almost graze your belly button as you imagined just how deep he would be inside of you. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation as he began to stroke the fat tip of his cock between your messy folds. Feeling them part for him as he nudged against your sensitive clit, making you cry out for him as he repeated the motion.

“Why would I stop?” He bit back, “You’re getting paid aren’t you?”

He hated himself for the words that left his lips, the regret evident on his features the moment he’d uttered them. But it was what he did. Pushing people away before they got too close, before he let them in—

“I’m sorry,” He murmured apologetically, “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” You cut him off with a small smile, used to hearing far worse as you smoothed a hand through the light hairs that scarred against his chest, “Are you ready?”

And Sanemi was certain he’d never been more prepared for anything in his life, his palms still planted firmly against your hips as he watched you reach down to wrap your palm around his drooling cock.

Holding it upright as you leaned forward to adjust yourself so the building tip was pressed against your right entrance. His fingers were no match for the stretch of the engorged tip as you slowly began to coax him inside. The first inch was painful, a delicious ache swirling in your abdomen as you tried to relax. Inhaling deeply as you gave an experimental roll of your hips, forcing another inch inside as you began to feel the stretch. The protruding veins that forked along his girth did nothing to ease the tension as you could practically feel them throb against your inner walls as you sank lower onto him.

Sanemi wasn’t fairing much better, his pupils blown as he was certain he could see every shade of colour. His grip against your hips bruising now as he tried to think of anything but the sensation of your cunt wrapped around him for the first time. He was barely halfway inside, and now he was positive he wouldn’t last by the time you made it to the base— his balls already drawn up and heavy as he imagined emptying his seed into your ripe cunt.

You were so fucking warm, and drenched. It was making it difficult to think as your slick left creamy rings around the girth of his cock, drooling down to his balls as you soaked his skin. Sanemi found himself becoming lightheaded, blindly pawing for your waist to centre himself. The back of his head knocked against the wooden floor as he readjusted his hips, giving you a few more inches as you moaned at the sensation. Catching yourself with soft palms against his chest as you rolled down into his touch, his stiff cock almost wholly inside you as you felt the messy hairs that sat at his base tickle your clit.

You still for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. But it feels like a moment too long for Sanemi, a moment that drives him closer to the desperate release his body already craves. His hefty balls are already tight and pulsing as they threaten to spill into your eager hole.

It’s as though you notice when you start to roll your hips above him. But Sanemi reckons this is worse— your tits sway with your alluring movement, the cool air in the room hits his cock when you rise your hips to pull off him before seating yourself back down and he’s certain you’ll be the death of him. That Uzui will find the shattered remains of his body in this very room as he dies buried deep inside your molten cunt. How had he managed to continue life for so long without feeling this? It’s now the only pleasure he ever wants to indulge in as he watches you intently through blown eyes.

“Are you okay?” You hum with a teasing swirl of your hips and Sanemi has to wet his lips to reply. His tongue rolls over white teeth before clearing his throat, a heavy rumble in his chest as calloused fingers dip into the fat at your hips.

“‘m fine,” It’s all he can muster. Certain if he says more it’ll be over, and Sanemi doesn’t want this to be over, “Fuckin’ tight.”

“You feel so good,” You offer in return, “Stretching me so much—”

And Sanemi isn’t sure he even wants to hear it. Uncertain whether it’s because you have his cock pulsing from your sultry tone that leaves him shaking on the crux of his climax, or that he thinks you’re lying. Another deceitful line you give to all your paying customers.

“Shinazugawa-sama.” You breathe and Sanemi feels his Adam’s apple throb in his throat.

“Sanemi,” He growls, low and domineering, “I said call me Sanemi.”

“Sanemi.” You parrot, and the sound of it has his hips jerking sloppily as he fucks up into you, his name now sounded from your lips like a dull mantra, “Sanemi.”

Your hands are splayed across his chest as you try to keep your movements consistent, hips rolling against him as you ride his cock. Trying to commit the sight to memory as your eyes follow every line and scar that settles across his skin, soft fingertips following them as you ride him. An indication of just how powerful the man beneath you is, the man you’ve brought to his knees.

“Oh, fuck.” You sound out, and Sanemi thinks it’s cute the sound of such a vulgar word spilling from your sweet lips.

And Sanemi wants to make you make more sounds like that, to pull every one from your pretty throat and commit each one to memory. Remembering every saccharine lilt and coo as though he’s conducting his own debauched symphony. Sounds that will comfort him when he thinks of you, of this. He moves his hand from your hip, pressing a thumb against your pelvis before dipping lower. Stroking his digits through your messy slit, and when he touches your clit your body convulses. Hips bucking so wildly on contact his eyes are wide as though he’s done something wrong. Taking his hand to press his fingers back against it as you coax him into touching you there again.

Hunching over him as you try to keep your pace, your movements borderline pathetic as you chase the pleasure of his calloused thumb against your sensitive bud. His eyes watch you curiously as he speeds up the sloppy figure of eights he presses into it, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him in response.

“This is supposed to be for you.” You choke out, unused to your clients even thinking about your pleasure.

“Who says it’s not?” Sanemi scoffs; the sight of you like this is worth every damn penny Uzui is paying, “I want you to come undone for me.”

The dominant, commanding husk to his voice has your pelvis contorting as your body wills itself to unravel on command. Barely able to cry out his name as you find your release, your silky walls clamp down around his cock as they desperately try to milk him of his release. Your nails dig into muscular pectorals as you try to keep yourself upright, to hold onto the single thread of sanity you have left.

But Sanemi’s thumb doesn’t stop against your clit, following your jerky movements as your hips coil and spasm. Keeping his touch firm and persistent as he helps you ride out one climax to have you soaring towards another.

It’s too much, and you’re not sure you can handle it as your hands slip down to wrap around his wrist. Feebly trying to pull his grip away from your sloppy cunt as you watch the muscles in his arm tighten, veins popping out proudly as they fork towards his wrist. Practically snarling as he easily fights your weaker grip, “Don’t.”

And once again he throws you into ecstasy, your body trembling as another intense orgasm surges through your veins. Soaking his cock with your essence as you feel how wet and sloppy you are between your thighs, any friction dissipating as it’s all you can do but pathetically grind yourself against his finger while you ride out your bliss.

“Sanemi,” You whine, unable to hold yourself upright as you feel yourself falling forward onto his chest. Your face nuzzled into the junction of his neck as you trap his muscular arm between your bodies, his thumb still at your overstimulated clit as he gives it a few more lingering swipes, “S’too much.”

And Sanemi has to agree. It’s far too much, but also not enough at the same time. His cock throbs at the feeling of your drenched walls soaking him, fluttering in the aftershocks of your release as he’s certain he’s on the cusp of his own end. Slipping his arm from between your bodies in ease in favour of wrapping both arms around you, pinning you against his chest as he bends both his legs at the knee. Planting his feet on the hardwood floor for stability as he holds you against him.

He catches you by surprise as he begins to thrust up into you. His movements are chaotic and messy, with a deep-set sense of urgency as he chases his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixes with the syrupy wetness of your cunt that has your cheeks burning fiery red as you pant and whine against his neck. Mouthing at the thin layer of sweat that sticks to his skin, the salty taste of it mitigating on your tongue as you let him use you for his pleasure.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” Your voice sings out against the column of his throat and his hips give one more rugged jolt as he buries himself inside you to the hilt and coats your inner walls with balmy spurts of cum. The sensation causes heat to plume inside you as you indulge in the sensation as he gives a few more careless thrusts like he’s unable to stop his hips from jerking as he gives you everything he’s got left to give.

Sanemi’s eyes are blown wide, staring up at the ceiling as you move with the rise and fall of his chest. His arms still wound so tightly around you that you’re unable to move, left to bask in the warm afterglow as you cling to him. One of your hands braced against his sternum, feeling for the cadence of his racing heart.

“Are you okay?” You murmur softly when he hasn’t spoken for a while, and you’re met with a delicate kiss to your temple as he tightens his grip.

You’re certain you lay there for hours after, his warmth engulfing you as he traces gentle patterns against the expanse of your back while your fingers cord through his messy hair. Nails grazing against his skin while you feel the pleasure rumble deep in his chest, eyes heavy as sleep threatens to consume you. You shift above him slightly and whine pathetically as you feel his soft cock finally slip from your sloppy hole, the wetness unable to maintain a grip on him as you shudder at the cold air in the room cooling your molten cunt. His thick, potent seed begins to drip from your cunt into thick puddles on his pelvis and onto the floor as his arms tighten possessively around you for the smallest hint of a moment. As though he’d tricked himself into thinking that you were actually his, before realising his foolish mistake.

“I should go.” His voice rumbles, firm and authoritative. A sound that has you moving off him, despite your body’s plea to stay like this just a while longer.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Shinazugawa-sama.” You respond, watching as he begins to redress himself. Tucking his cock, still glazed with your drying slick, back into his pants.

You’d hoped he would correct you a final time. Telling you to call him by name as he buttoned the first few buttons of his shirt before tugging his haori back on, but the words don’t come.

You wonder whether it’s because he’s unsure what to say, lingering by the door as though he wants to turn back to give you a proper goodbye. Reaching down to grab your kimono to pull it back over your shoulders.

“Thank you.” He whispers before tugging at the door.

You were hoping it would feel a little less transactional, even though you were certain that this was all it was to him. A coldness now resides in the room that you’re certain you’d never felt before, an uncertain frost that bites away at the fierce burn of your heart. You have to remind yourself of the reason why you’re here, the reason why the Wind Hashira had chosen to lay with you.

The next morning you were surprised to find out just how much Sanemi had left behind that evening. Certain the payment was more than enough to settle your debts and free you from this existence, as you felt the fog of uncertainty that shrouded your time here begin to clear.

You’d hoped that he would’ve left some way to thank him, a forwarding address or at least a note to accompany the payment. But what you didn’t expect was for the Wind Pillar to be waiting at the dark purple curtains for you as you came down the stairs.

#sanemi smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa smut #kny x reader #kny smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut

388 notes · View notes

crackedpumpkin · 3 months

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟏 |

a/n: about fucking time lol im so exhausted. hope yall enjoy <3

Warnings: Contains cursing

AU Inspo: Soulmates can hear each other listening to music. The further the distance, the softer the music. The closer, the louder until they find each other.

| [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ] |

— — — — — — — — — —

“Soulmates are essential to survive. There is nothing like the sensation of meeting each other for the first time, and subsequently knowing that you’re fated to be with each other forever. Through thick and thin, they'll always have your back.”

You snort. Miss Grenadine lifts her brow into a delicate arch, her unamused expression remaining the same as you cover your mouth, trying to fake a cough. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class on your last day?”

People around you start to snigger, and you can feel the glances poking your skin like tiny mosquitoes buzzing all over. “Not really.”

“No, no. Please, enlighten me as to what exactly you find so amusing about soulmates.”

“Maybe it’s because she hasn’t found hers yet?” Another classmate suggests. You turn around to see Henry smirking, high-fiving the rest of his friends who’re evidently entertained by his jab.

You roll your eyes, letting a huff slip past your lips. “And you keep arguing with yours, no wonder I’m not jealous that I don’t have one yet.” His friends suck in a sharp breath between their teeth in a hiss, glancing warily between you both.

“Thank you for your input, Henry. But I asked your classmate, not you.” He’s silenced from uttering another word under Ms Grenaline’s sharp gaze, wilting into his seat with a muttered retort under his breath.

You turn your attention back to your teacher who’s waiting patiently, hands folded over her stomach in a motherly manner. But you know better. This is fake sympathy, flaky pity in her eyes as she thinks to herself how unlucky you are for not having yet met your soulmate.

You get it. You’re an anomaly. It’s ‘not normal’ for people to not yet meet their soulmates by the time they’re 18. One way or another, the universe always finds a way to pull two people together by the age of 16. Yet, you’re the exception.

“I just think the whole music thing is annoying. I mean, do you all not get annoyed? What if you hate metal, but they love it? Even then, it’s just insane how much our lives border on needing someone. Why not just travel alone? Enjoy life?” You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms defiantly as Ms Grenaline’s eyes widen with every word.

You watch her take a moment to compose herself, plastering a smile on her face as she comes up with the right words to say. Honestly, you couldn’t care less what she wanted to say to you; it’s your last day here anyway.

“Well,” She pauses, clearly struggling on how to phrase her words in a way that wouldn’t get you to retort once again, “It’s…a very difficult process to describe in words. I understand where you’re coming from with the music aspect, but over time just like how one day you can wake up and decide that you like the colour purple, you’ll experience something similar.”

“You’re right.” You nod. She’s momentarily taken aback by your agreeable response, only to frown when you continue speaking. “It is a difficult process to put in words. And you know what? Maybe not everyone needs a soulmate.” You flash her a toothy smile just as the bell rings, grabbing your bag and starting for the door. “Been good, Ms G.”

You don’t turn to see her reaction, focused on getting to the diner on Sixth Street where you’d promised to meet up for one last meal with your friends before you moved to Ninjago City. Putting the earbuds into your ears makes you wince, shaking your head slightly as the familiar yet nauseating sound of jazz plays faintly in the back of your mind.

Stupid jazz, stupid music, stupid soulmate.

Right. Your soulmate. You still haven’t told anyone this, but a few months ago, you began to hear the faint sounds of smooth jazz play now and then in your head. You thought you were just going crazy at first, but upon further observation, you concluded that there could only be one cause: Your soulmate was nearby.

But for some annoying reason, your soulmate loves jazz with a passion. it was always either that or soft rock. Plus, they’re always annoyingly far enough to not have it impounded into your head, but still close enough to have it constantly on repeat in your head.

The day it first started, you had just finished watching a horror movie and were about to go to bed. However, your soulmate had decided that 5 AM was the perfect time to start listening to soft rock. The sharp twangs of an electric guitar and the steady beats of the drums were enough to keep you up instead of getting your beauty sleep.

lil binder [ 02:00 PM ]: u otw yet?

You grin at the message on your screen, typing out a reply to your friend, Melody, as pop music blasts away through your earbuds and effectively drowning out the beginnings of a saxophone.

smartie pebble [ 02:00 PM ]: yea be there in 7

Melody was just one of many of your friends. She had found her soulmate at the tender age of 15, accidentally spilling ice cream on him because she had been too distracted talking to you. Having bore witness to the entire ‘love-at-first-sight’ moment between them, you scooched away as she proceeded to forget about your entire existence in the next hour.

However, now Luke and her were inseparable, and wherever she was, he was bound to be there too. Luckily though, you had bonded with him over your mutual love of cooking, with Melody constantly being on the receiving end of many of your competitive inventions.

“Yo, it’s the one and only rockstar of our generation!” Luke crows as you enter the diner, and you instinctively stick up your middle finger at him. He grins, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you set down your bag in the booth seats.

“About time you got here.” Brendan greets, subtly nudging Nico who glances up from his game for a moment to say a quick ‘hi’. The former is in his uniform as usual, while Nico decided to change out of his, relaxed vest and tapered pants his go-to outfit.

“You’ll never guess what happened today.” Nico arches an eyebrow, though his gaze is focused solely on the rhythm game on his screen.

“Let me guess, you got into another argument about soulmates again.” You look up to see Melody arrive at the table with a large tray of food, tucking away the strings of the apron around her waist. “When will you learn that it’s inevitable?” She sighs, pinching the skin between her eyes and shaking her head in disapproval.

“Maybe it’s because she’s around us too much,” Luke pouts, snaking his arm around her waist. She grins, ruffling the top of his head.

“Please, for the love of the First Spinjitzu Master, make it stop,” You groan, pretending to gag and narrowly dodging the packet of chilli she throws in your direction. Picking it up, you tear it open and squeeze out the sauce, dipping the fries into it and eating them with relish.

“So, what’d Ms Grenaline say this time?” Luke focuses his attention on you, letting go of Melody who slides into the seat next to him. Nico steals a fry, munching away even though his meal is right in front of him. He even put away his phone, eagerly waiting to hear what new fight you’d gotten into today.

“She just said some shit about soulmates being essential to survive. Y’know, the usual mumbo jumbo.” You shrug, unwrapping the double cheeseburger and taking a bite.

“Sounds about right to me.” Melody raises her hands in surrender once you glare at her. “But hey, who am I to judge? Definitely not because I have a soulmate, and definitely not because he’s right next to me.”

“You’re so right.” She rolls her eyes at your automatic reply, barely audible through the massive chunk of pickle in your mouth.

“I know your family’s kinda complicated, but it doesn’t have to affect your outlook on soulmates forever. Besides, aren’t you moving to the city for your stepmom? That’s kinda progress.” Brenden volunteers his opinion, sipping away at his diet coke. “Don’t you glare at me young lady, you know perfectly well why you’re going. You like her.”

“As if,” you scoff, forcing down the last bite of lettuce and crumpling the empty wrapper. Melody doesn’t blink an eye at how fast you’ve consumed the burger, already having seen it for at least 6 years.

“She got you the signed copy of Black Beauty, remember?” Nico says quietly, tilting his head. “And besides, you haven’t fought with her in a long while.”

You bite back a retort, hating how right he is. It’s been at least three months since you’d gotten in a fight with your stepmother - the longest duration so far. “Look, she can try to bribe me all she wants, but I’m going to quickly get through school and move out so I can travel away from her.”

“Mmhm. You’d have a good chance, considering that you got into Business Relations at Ninjago University, so…” Your friends go quiet at the mention, as if just realising that you’re leaving tomorrow morning.

“I’ll be back for summer vacation anyway,” you casually state, finishing off the fries with a satisfied grin. “With autographs from those ninjas you’re always raving about.”

“You promise? I��ll cut off your pinkie finger if it doesn’t come true. You know a pinky promise is legally binding.” Melody warns.

“I don’t know how you put up with her.” Luke shrugs as you turn to him, amusement in his eyes as he glances at Melody who’s still glaring at you.

“River time?” Brenden suggests, trying to lighten the mood. Melody nods, turning to face the kitchen staff behind the counter a short distance away.

“Hilda, I’m heading out!” She calls out, untying the apron and draping it on the seat as everyone leaves the booth.

“Fuck off!”

“Will do!” Melody grins slyly, gesturing to the exit. “Let’s bounce before she realises I didn’t clear the tables.”

“Love you too Hilda!” You shout back to the grumpy old lady with a fond smile, waving goodbye as you leave.

“River time! River time! River time!” You join in on their chanting, laughing without a care in the world - and ignoring the faint sounds of guitars and saxophones playing in the back of your mind.

— — — — —

The truth of the matter is, picnics by the river are among the top few activities you’d willingly leave the house for. After having a few drinks and getting up to a couple of shenanigans, your friends dropped you off at your place with tearful goodbyes.

Nico had refused to let go of your arm, citing ‘who would I hug when you’re gone?’ as the reason why. He had let go after you promised to hug him all he wanted when you came back. It was also then that you vowed to never let him drink again.

After showering and emerging from the steam with a clearer (and significantly less tipsy) mind, you make your way to the comfort of your futon, avoiding stubbing your toe on the luggage near the door. The moving company had already taken most of your stuff, and all that you have to your name now is a singular suitcase, a sling bag, and your futon.

You wriggle under the blanket, staring up at the ceiling and feeling the tiredness finally hit you with full force as your eyelids slowly close. The warmth draws you to sleep, dreams calling your name and reckoning for you to come into their embrace.

Unfortunately, your soulmate doesn’t like to sleep at 1 AM. Soft rock starts playing, and you press your face against the pillow to muffle your annoyed groan. You press the pillow on top of your face, wishing desperately for the music to stop, though you know it’d do nothing to help. Forcing your eyes shut and thinking of anything else to drown out the noise is the go-to method for you, and hopefully, it’ll work this time as well.

Stupid jazz, stupid music.

Stupid soulmate.

— — — — —

A quick Google search in the morning while you brush your teeth reveals a plethora of cafes in Ninjago City, all ready for you to explore. Accidentally clicking on a notification, however, brings you to a separate page where the headline of a news article practically screams at you.

‘Famous Author to make an appearance at Ninjago Museum Fundraiser! All proceeds from the auction are to be donated to preserve local history.

The bestselling author who goes by her pen name of Hanla will be making an appearance at the Ninjago Museum’s Fundraiser occurring next week. Locally curated pieces of artwork and a book of poems written by Hamla herself will be auctioned off. Hamla has also stated that 100% of all proceeds made in her name will be going toward the local conservation of Ninjago’s history. For all fans of her works - You, Me, and the Beat, Beauty and her Phone, and critically acclaimed bestseller Honey, Where Are My Pants?, be sure to stop by for an autographing session that Hamla will be attending! Our local heroes - the Ninja, will also be attending the session, so make sure to get your photos taken with them!’

“Are you ready yet? We gotta leave in an hour, Munchkin.” Your father calls out from downstairs. You pause to spit out the toothpaste in your mouth, gargling the residue and letting the menthol sting your lips after rinsing.

“Yeah, just gotta shower and I’m good to go.” You reply loudly, turning your attention back to the mirror. A round, puffy face stares back at you, eyebags apparent after only managing to fall asleep at two in the morning.

You really should stop drinking so late at night. Luckily, a shower helps to reduce the puffiness in your face, and you step out of your room looking somewhat presentable in a lavender hoodie and shorts.

The gentle sunlight shining through the bare windows breathed life into the room and the curtains that once decorated the small window seat. Where your bed once sat was empty with the polished mahogany wood underneath.

Endless nights of laying in your plush bed with your bedside lamp's dim yet warm glow seemed so distant in your memories. Your hand lingers on the doorknob, mumbling a soft goodbye before shutting the door and heading downstairs to where your father is waiting.

“Shall we?” He grins, placing the last of your luggage in the car boot. He closes it, offering a hand to you. You take it, allowing him to guide you to the front seat where the radio is already playing your favourite pop songs.

As he starts to drive, you’re momentarily distracted with taking the perfect picture for your Instagram story, singing along with your tone-deaf father who’s belting out ABBA as he drives past the massive signboard signalling goodbye. You watch it pass, fields and clouds dotting the sky moving by steadily.

It’d be a lie to say you wouldn’t miss home. But this is a chance at a new beginning - maybe one that could change your life for the better. As faint jazz starts up in the back of your mind, you smile softly. Not even that could dampen your mood.

— — — — —

You stir, eyes fluttering open at the annoying sound of drilling and construction. You blink a few times, sitting up from where you had slumped against the window while you slept. Your vision clears, and you move your hands away to see bright lights and skyscrapers galore around you.

You're here.

Ninjago City is filled to the brim with people and endless traffic. Your dad scowls at the long line of cars in front of him, glaring at the red light that seems to take forever to turn green. You fiddle with the games on your phone, focusing intently on beating the next level of Candy Crush.

You mumble a cuss when 'Game Over' appears on the colourful screen, and he immediately turns with a suspicious gaze. You smile nervously, trying to play it off as though you hadn't said anything.

Luckily, he turns back around, choosing to let it pass.

You stare out the window, watching the shops pass by in a blur until you spot one that catches your eye. “Dad, could you drop me off here?” He doesn't question your sudden request, making a turn and parking next to the sidewalk.

You open the car door and exit, looking up at the sign on the storefront.

'Ninjago Doomsday Comix'

“Emily’s already making dinner, so just meet us back at the new apartment.” He texts you the new address quickly, eyeing you suspiciously. “Be nice.” He warns, satisfied with the small nod you give in reply.

“Yeah, just gonna take a look around the place, y'know, before I get lost tomorrow.” You joke. You adjust the straps of your small bag before settling it in a comfortable position on your back.

“See you later then, munchkin. Call us if anything happens. Should be safe since those ninjas are around.”

Before you can question what he means, he drives off with all the rest of your luggage. You were lucky that your dad had visited the city multiple times on business trips and that he was primarily a hands-off parent.

“Right. Ninjas.” You mumble with a shake of your head, striding off toward the comic book store. The door swings open easily, a jingle catching you off guard. A man at the cashier counter greets you with a friendly grin that eases your nerves, and you walk up to him.

“Hi, do you know where to find Starfarer comics?”

“Well, right here, of course!” You cringe at his response, realising how poorly worded your question was. It elicits a chuckle from the man in front of you.

“Just kidding. I'm Rufus, Rufus McAllister, or you can call me Mother Doomsday. You're a new face around these parts. What's your name?”

“I just moved here, so maybe that's why." You reply, clutching the straps of your bag with a small smile at the friendly man and throwing in your name as well as an afterthought.

“Well, welcome to Ninjago City! I hope the city treats you well. We got the ninja protecting us, so that's added security too.”

“Right,” You smile emotionlessly at him. Is everyone here such big fans of the Ninja? Sure, Melody’s a fan, but not as much as bringing them up every chance she got. “Good to know.”

Rufus pauses with his lips parted, seemingly processing your words. A relaxed grin slowly forms on his lips. He glances towards a specific aisle, seemingly contemplating.

“It should be fine then….” He mumbles. You're just lost in where this conversation had ended up.

“Aisle Eight is where we keep the best-stocked Starfarer comics.” He gestures to the area he had been staring at earlier. You thank him with a brief nod, walking over.

The aisle is relatively empty, save for two other people. A blonde guy in a green hoodie is flipping through the latest issue of Starfarer with keen interest, engrossed in the colourful pages.

Next to him is another boy with slightly wavy and choppy black hair, the smooth and silky strands making you both envious and curious about his hair care routine. In contrast to his friend(you assumed), he regards you with a suspicious gaze.

Oh no. He’s hot.

You find it odd, feeling mildly unsettled by the intense stare he gives you. It wasn't a good one; more on the wary side than interested. You brush it off, ignoring the pair and scouring the shelves for issue number three.

You finally find the comic you're looking for, but it's directly opposite the pair.

After all, what would you be if not cursed with horrid coincidence?

You practically tiptoe over, clearing your throat slightly as you grab the comic book and start reading. Green Hoodie(Greenie, you decide to nickname) looks up in surprise, only now noticing your presence. Mr. Grumpy Pants(The nickname suits him perfectly), on the other hand, doesn't bother hiding the grimace on his lips at your presence, looking away.

You stiffen, eyes shifting into a glare.

Rude.

Greenie hits his friend's shoulder in a light punch, looking at you with an expression of apology. “She should be fine. Rufus wouldn't send anyone over here without vetting them first.” Greenie whispers to Mr. Grumpy Pants, referring to his earlier behaviour.

“Yeah, but what if they're…you know? I don't want another repeat of what happened with Jay.”

Oh. Oh. I see now.

You almost drop the comic book in your hands, caught off guard by how attractive Mr Grumpy Pants' voice is. You tense, now more aware of their presence. Even though you don't want to eavesdrop, you can't help how your ears practically perk up, hoping to hear more of the deep voice from earlier.

Plus, they weren't doing a very good job of keeping their conversation a secret.

“I trust Rufus. He's a good friend.”

“...Maybe.”

“Is that…? OMG! It's them!!”

You're interrupted from blankly staring at the same page for the past ten minutes, having focused on the conversation behind you, though the pair had stopped talking a while ago. You look up at the store's glass windows, startled by the sudden sight of a group of girls pressed against the glass, staring intently at the two boys behind you.

“Fuck.” You watch all the colour drain from Greenie's face while Mr Grumpy Pants smacks his palm against his face, sliding it down and sighing heavily with an utterly defeated expression.

"Not again…" You hear him mutter. “And watch your language,” He adds, elbowing Greenie who just sticks out his tongue. The girls grab their phones, snapping photos of them. You realise that you're probably in them, too, considering the lack of distance between you both.

"Girls, there's the door!!" The tallest and most commandeering of the group holds open the entrance to the comic book store, and they swarm towards it.

"Cole, run!!!" Greenie yells, taking off to the back door that Rufus quickly ushers them both through. You grab the issue of Starfarer that Greenie dropped on the floor in his hasty exit, watching the fabric of Cole's shirt almost get stuck in the doorway.

At least now you know his name.

You place both the comics back on the shelf, leaving with a quick wave to Rufus, who nods goodbye. You pull out your phone, look up directions to the apartment and slowly make your way there. You grab your earbuds, put them both in your ears and start your playlist from the beginning.

You're next to an alleyway, just steps away from a ramen store, when your arm is grabbed and pulled into an alleyway next to you. A yelp rips free from your chest, losing your balance and almost falling.

A strong and warm arm holds yours firmly, pressing you against the cold brick wall. Your eyes automatically squeeze shut when your back hits the wall with a grunt, opening your eyes to see Mr. Grumpy Pants from earlier.

What the everloving fuck-

His hand is pressed firmly against your mouth, and your hands curl into fists, summoning all the strength in your body to land a solid punch on his chest. He yelps, pressing his lips tightly together to silence himself. He glares at you, and you return it just as angrily. Your fingers close into fists, readying yourself for another punch, aiming for his jaw next.

He shushes you, and you only just notice his pinched brows and the shine of sweat on his forehead. He had tugged you behind a wall that separated into a small alcove, out of sight from the sidewalk you were on earlier.

"Turn that nauseating song off." Cole winces, muttering through clenched teeth. Your hands slow to a stop, confused by his words. He grabs your phone out of your hands, pressing pause on your beloved playlist before you can protest.

Your eyes widen in shock, staring up at his stupidly handsome face. His dark brown eyes are filled with the fear of being caught, and you catch yourself admiring the shaggy black hair that frames his face in the most annoyingly perfect manner.

Your mind races with incoherent thoughts, but one sticks out like a sore thumb.

Your soulmate's a celebrity?

For a celebrity, his music taste sucks ass.

"Am I getting kidnapped right now?" You voice out the most pressing concern on your mind, though it comes out muffled. He turns back to face you with an incredulous expression.

"You don't know who I am?" His voice is hushed, waiting for the horde of fangirls to run past your hiding spot. Your eyes narrow, pushing his hand off of where it's placed on your shoulders. You try to ignore the tingle his touch leaves behind that spreads to your hands and how his choppy bangs somehow manage to fall over his eyes in a somewhat attractive manner when he turns to face you.

"In the past twenty minutes, you've glared at me, been rude, and practically held me hostage," You snap at him, irritated by the lack of common human decency he seems to display. "And what do you mean nauseating? If anything, you're the one giving me headaches with that god-awful noise you call music that you play daily! I mean, who wakes up at 4 AM?? Only a psychopath, apparently."

You finish your mini rant, having reached the end of your already thinning patience with the boy in front of you. You pant slightly, trying your best to reign in your temper.

"Noise? Noise?? I could say the same for you! You're disturbing my sleep at night with those ear-splitting synths and breathy singing that sounds like they're on the verge of hyperventilation!" Cole retorts with thinly veiled disgust, taking a step back, dusting off his hands, and wiping them on his pants.

You eye the action, feeling insulted. Both of you stand in the alleyway, silently glaring at each other. Cole breaks the stare first, scanning the area behind him once he realises the fangirls are gone. You grin, elated at the quiet victory.

“You really gotta get more variety.” Your smile drops as soon as the words leave Cole's lips, and yours press into a thin line.

“Speak for yourself.” You can barely hold back another biting remark. If anyone were to see you now, they'd mistake you as enemies rather than the soulmates that you are.

He groans, rolling his eyes. You're tempted to ask what he does for a living but choose to stay silent. You shake your head, still in disbelief that you've found your soulmate. “Out of all people…” You mutter under your breath with a scowl.

“I could say the same. I don’t know how someone like you ended up as my soulmate.” He retorts, seemingly having overheard.

“I’m glad we share the same view then. At least that’s one thing we can agree on. Now, let’s make a deal. You go right, and I go left and we never run into each other again. Deal?” You propose, holding out your hand for a handshake. He eyes it for a solid moment, mulling over his decision. Instead of shaking your hand, however, he merely nods, crossing his hands over his chest. Your eyes narrow.

How insufferable.

“Looks like they’re gone.” He takes a moment to glance out of the alleyway, starting in the direction opposite and leaving you to your own devices. You continue to glare at his retreating figure, driving home your irritation by placing your earbuds back into your ears and hitting play.

Immediately, Cole's songs start playing in the back of your mind, much louder than before. You let out an irritated groan, turning to glare at his broad back. Curse his well-chiselled body and toned arms.

Stupid soulmate.

— — — — —

“So, how was your first day in town?” Your stepmother, Emily, sits down opposite you, taking out one of the hair clips she used to keep the bangs out of her face. Her hair is messy, tied into a ponytail and her skirt is stained with spaghetti sauce.

“Decent. Went to a comic book place.” You say through a mouthful. Your response is short, but it’s more than what used to be quiet dinners around a tension-filled dining table in the past.

“That’s good. Doomsday Comix, I assume?” She doesn’t flinch from your wide-eyed gaze, caught off guard by how eerily accurate her guess is. “I used to work there when I was younger. I hope you found the comics you were looking for. Starfarer, right?”

“Right,” You reply unsurely, spooning another bunch of pasta into your mouth. You forget that Emily had been born and raised in Ninjago, only having met your dad during one of her trips for ‘inspiration’. You and she had a rocky relationship, but one could say that you’re currently making progress - you think.

“Did you meet the ninja?” Your dad asks, taking some sliced-up steak on his plate and placing it on Emily’s. You eye the way she lights up at the action, a nauseating feeling beginning to stir in the bottom of your stomach. “I hope if you got in trouble, they got you out of it.”

“Oh yeah? What’re the ninja gonna do, spin me around till I get a headache?” You snort, chewing on an irritating broccoli stem that refuses to get chowed down on. “Mystify me to pieces? Bore me to death?”

The sarcastic jabs don’t phase your dad in the slightest. He shrugs, used to your disbelieving comments. “Just be careful out there still, okay? I know Ninjago City is safe but there are still pickpockets around and petty crimes.”

“Which is exactly why I called in a favour from an old friend.” Emily smiles softly at your father, but it fades slightly when she looks at you, uncertainty in her gaze. “He’s an instructor, and I’ve asked him to teach you self-defence so you can at least protect yourself.”

Your hand slows to a halt, the singular piece of spaghetti dangling off your fork as you blink owlishly at her. “I never asked for your help.” The words slip out before you can stop yourself, hurt flitting across Emily’s face before she composes herself, clearing her throat and picking up a piece of broccoli.

Aaand that’s a streak of 3 and a half months without being mean, gone.

“I just thought that maybe you should stay safe. Besides that,” You can sense the carefulness in her words, trying to choose the right ones to say. “I have an event coming up that I’d like you to attend. It’s a fundraiser, and I would like you to be there.” She pauses for a moment, looking from your father to you. “Both of you.”

“No thanks,” The clang of the metal fork against the porcelain plate makes her wince slightly at the harsh sound. You stand up with your half-empty plate, appetite vanishing just as quickly as a passing breeze. “I’m gonna head out. School stuff to catch up on and all.” You spot your father starting to stand up with a frown, only to stop when she places her hand on his arm and shakes her head sadly.

You ignore it.

Besides, you have a best friend to call.

— — — — —

“I think I met my soulmate today.” You instinctively pull the phone away from your ear just as she starts screaming.

“What? Where?? When?? How????? WHO???”

“Comic book store, today,” you reply, playing with a strand of your hair to distract yourself.

“Comic book store? Oh no, he’s a nerd.” The mock horror in her voice makes you suppress a defeated groan, picturing exactly how wide her smug grin is. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to inhale slowly. Damn. She remembers.

When you were younger, you had made a bet with Melody as to what kind of person your soulmate would be. Being the naive child you were, you had bet on him being a superstar.

Melody, on the other hand, had bet that you'd end up with someone the complete opposite of you. A secret nerd.

Even at the tender age of 15, she had already read countless romantic books filled with cliche tropes. Right now though, this knowledge is absolutely terrifying to you. You hear a sigh of satisfaction over the phone, lips curling into a frown. “I’m not going to do it.”

“You have to! We pinky promised. Plus, Todd’s back home and if you don’t want me to tell him about-”

“I’ll do it,” you groan, cutting her off from the effective threat. “The First Spinjitzu Master sent you down for just one reason and that was to make my life even worse.”

“Wait.” Melody says, “What happened to your whole spiel about ‘oh I hate soulmates and I never want to have one, bleh bleh bleh’ ?”

“First of all, that is not how I sound. Is that really how I sound to you??” You gasp. Maybe your whole stance against soulmates was getting a bit too much, even for Melody. “Besides, it’s nothing new. His stupid jazz started a couple of months back or something.” You grumble, deciding to collapse on your bed instead of pacing your room.

“And you didn’t tell me??” She says incredulously, her voice raised. You can hear a faint “What didn’t she tell you?” in the background, recognising the voice as her brother’s.

“Nothing!” She shouts back at him, “I expect details. Right fucking now.”

“It’s not much,” You sigh, looking up at your ceiling and letting your phone rest beside your head, her voice filling the quiet room through the speakerphone. “It came outta nowhere and honestly? If nothing happened, no way am I about to fly across the world just to see him. I have school. And homework.”

“You’ve never handed in a single piece of homework on time.” Her voice has a hint of accusation.

“What can I say? Moving gives you a whole new perspective on self-reflection.” You shrug nonchalantly, though you know she can’t see it.

“What’s his music taste?”

“Smooth jazz and soft rock.” You groan at her awws on the other end, “Yeah, let’s see if you still find that cute when you’re trying to sleep and he decides to blast music at 4 AM.”

“An early riser. Maybe he works out?” Melody’s wistful voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I sense dissatisfaction with your current soulmate.” Your snarky reply makes her chuckle.

“You wish. Luke’s gonna start going to the gym 'cause I said I liked his biceps last week.” She says with amusement, “Right, I have a date tomorrow. Should I wear the pink blouse or blue?”

“Blue.”

“Pink it is.”

“Why do you even bother asking me?” You say blankly, grinning when she barks out a laugh. “Have fun on your date.”

“Remember to get autographs!”

“I won’t if you don’t shut up and get to bed.” The call instantly concludes with a monotonous dial tone after you hang up, placing your phone on your table with a grin. You open your laptop with a new sense of purpose, searching for articles on the ninja. Your unfulfilled promise haunts you, knowing full well that although most of your friends thought it was a joke, Melody would be intent on at least fracturing your pinky finger if you didn’t get their autographs.

A sudden knock on the door startles you and your hands quickly close the laptop instinctively. The door slowly creaks open, and your dad steps inside. You turn away, pretending to busy yourself with tidying your desk with minimal clutter. “Is this about dinner?”

“Well,” you hear him hesitate. “Kind of. Look, it’d mean a lot to her if you went, y’know. Besides, the self-defence instructor we asked to teach you has already accepted.”

“Can’t you get a refund?” You finally turn to face him, lips parted to say more until you scan his face. Sunken cheeks and eyes filled with sadness stare back at you, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’d be more open towards his wife. Towards her.

And just like that, your temper which had slowly begun to bubble up again at the mention of your stepmom dies down, left with nothing but wisps of resentment. You swallow down the lump in your throat, unable to meet his gaze.

“Fine. Tell Hamla that I’ll go to her charity fundraiser, whatever.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, while you focus on your fingers already picking away at the skin on your thumb. Tiny flecks of peeled skin land on the floor, invisible in the lack of light. The skin is red and raw underneath, but you can’t feel the pain, focusing instead on the repetitiveness of the action.

“Thank you, munchkin.”

The door closes without any further conversation, and the weight on your chest suddenly lifts. It’s still there, but significantly less than before. You close your eyes, hands curling into fists as you breathe out slowly but shakily. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

You open the laptop back up, allowing the bright screen to distract you from any further thoughts. The picture of the ninja fills your screen, one in a black gi catching your eyes. What was he again? The Earth Ninja?

Glancing at the closet, you mentally flit through your outfit options for the fundraiser. A thought nags away at your brain, as if on the edge of remembering one very important fact. You pull up the article from this morning, rereading it once more as it hits you, looking from the article to the picture a few times before your lips pull up in a slow smile.

Looks like you’d get their autographs sooner than you thought.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookestone #cole brookstone x reader #cole x reader #ninjago x reader #cole ninjago #lego ninjago x reader

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silent-stories · 5 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝟏

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: After moving to Hawkings for a fresh start, you meet a boy with kind, brown eyes who will quickly become a friend and maybe something more. The only problem is: you took something that belongs to him by accident and now you don't know what to do.

A/N: Yes, there will be more parts. No, i don't know when. I hope this start doesn't suck.

You kind of hated how you had thought moving there was a good idea. Of course, your aunt had told you that she would welcome you with open arms if you ever decided to go and live with her but she had never told you that the people there seemed to look all the same and that everyone would have stared at you in a weird way, being the only crazy person who moved there after years of no new arrivals.

Hawkins was a small midwestern town located in Roane County in the state of Indiana and it wasn't hard to tell that it wasn't a very busy or interesting place even though you were driving down the main street for the first time, heading towards the house where you were supposed to live for quite some time, if everything would have gone as it should and your aunt hadn't decided to get rid of you after a few days, like you had basically done with your parents.

You looked first on the left and then the right side of the road, while the music was still playing loudly in the vehicle, trying to figure out which way you were supposed to go, then you remembered that you had a map of the city somewhere in your pickup.

You glanced at the back seats, where there were several suitcases and a few bags full of things that you would probably never need and which were just taking up a lot of space in your car already always full of various junk.

You noticed a lamp peeking out from a bag and wondered for the second time that morning what the hell was going on in your mind.

"C'mon, where are you?" You talked to yourself, searching through the sea of objects scattered on the dashboard: a concert ticket, some polaroids containing memories of a life you were leaving behind (which had fallen from the ceiling of the car where you kept at least fifty of them fixed with tacks), a horror book by an unknown writer (the school library had crossed it out because it was considered inappropriate for kids), a shoe whose match had been lost while you were packing your bags, a half-empty green spray can and no trace of the city map.

The car behind you honked: you had not moved for at least two minutes.

"I'm trying to figure out where I need to go! I'm sorry!" You shouted through the rolled down window before the car passed you and a man gave you the middle finger.

"Rude." You commented, sighing and thinking about what to do.

Did continuing to wander around the city until you found the right path make sense?

You were about to restart the pickup when you saw a boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen and a taller, blond boy wearing a green and white jacket talking to each other as they walked along the sidewalk.

You grabbed your leather jacket and got out of the car, hoping no one would complain about the inappropriate place you were leaving it. Your driving teacher was probably right when she told you you sucked at parking.

"I'll be right back Casper." You said to the thing in the passenger seat. Nobody responded.

You reached the two boys just as the blond guy took the hat off the younger one, laughing.

You didn't immediately understand what was happening.

"Sorry, do you know where I can find-"

"Hey! Give it back!" The younger one tried to grab the hat while the other laughed, raising his arm straight up so he couldn't reach it.

"Give what back?" The blond laughed.

You cleared your throat. The two turned to you suddenly.

"What do you want?" The older one asked in an annoyed tone, looking you up and down.

"I wanted to know where Piney Wood Lane was but now I don't wanna talk with you anymore. Give the hat back."

He snorted as if I had come to ruin the party. "You can never have fun with you weirdos around."

You caught it before it landed in a puddle as the blonde dropped it to the ground.

He pointed to the kid saying something like "I'm not fucking done with you" before walking away.

"What a nice guy!" You yelled after him as he turned the corner.

"As always." The younger commented.

"Is everyone like this around here? I just moved but people like him make me want to go back to where I came from." You handed the hat back to him with a half smile.

You hated people like that guy, you had never understood how anyone could take pleasure in making someone else suffer.

"Not all. Most but not all, some of my friends are really cool. Thanks for that." He put the hat back on his head, covering his short curls, on his face a grateful expression even if you didn't do much.

You found yourself wondering what these "cool friends" of his were like.

"Good to know." You sighed ironically.

“I'm Dustin, by the way.” Dustin smiled at you.

You said your name and shook his hand, you thought that you had known that kid for about five minutes and you would already do anything to protect him.

Dustin looked at the car parked behind you. “Your car is so cool!” He commented in amazement, pointing with his finger at the drawings standing out against the black background, on the side of it.

"Thanks, it's a mess but it represents me, I think."

“Wait, what is that thing sitting in the passenger seat?”

"Oh, that's Casper!"

"It's a-"

"A skeleton, yes. My biology teacher let me borrow it from his class."

Dustin looked at you questioningly.

"Okay, I stole it. But he's a great travel companion, and never complains about the music I choose."

Dustin laughed. "I swear, you would love my friends."

"And I really would like to get to know them but now, could you help me find Piney Wood Lane? I lost the map in the middle of all the shit in my car."

"Sure I can, I know that street!" The boy nodded, hoping that you could become one of his "cool friends".

That afternoon, what had become your room was already full of stuff scattered around and suitcases that you didn't feel like unpacking everywhere. The posters you would soon hang were on the desk but you had decided to leave Casper in the car for a while longer. You had put most of your clothes in the closet and packed a bag full of spray cans with the intention of going out and finding a nice wall to do your first mural in the new town.

That time you didn't have any of your friends to make sure the cops didn't come but you figured that for your first few days there, you could manage on your own.

You grabbed a book in case you found a quiet place to read: you felt safer when you went out taking a book with you, even if you weren't sure you'd find a place or time to read.

“Are you going to explore the town?” Your aunt asked with a smile as you came out of your room with your bag over your shoulder.

You couldn't help but be grateful to her, she had said she would treat you like a daughter and give you a room of your own and that was exactly what she had done. You hadn't seen her in years and you didn't know each other very well but for the moment you seemed to get along well and your relationship seemed more peaceful than the one you'd had with many people in your old hometown.

Maybe this was really a new beginning for you.

"Yeah, something like that." You tried to sound convincing.

"Okay, don't get in trouble on your first day here."

You smiled.

"Oh, I would never do that."

You jumped off the trash can you were standing on, in the alley you had chosen for your mural.

You turned the spray can in your paint-stained hands, observing the work on the wall in front of you: you liked dragons in fantasy stories, you thought it might be nice to experiment with something like that.

"Yeah, you don’t look that bad." You said to the creature painted on the wall, before noticing that the sun was starting to set and it was probably time to go home.

You put the spray cans back in your bag and threw the empty ones into the bins you climbed onto.

Then, you heard a noise.

"Please don't be a cop." You muttered to yourself, placing your bag over your shoulder and walking out of the alley.

The footsteps got closer.

"Please don't be a cop." You repeated, keeping your gaze down as you rounded the corner, hoping to escape, that way, from whoever was coming in your direction.

Of course, luck wasn't on your side, as always: you collided with the person who was coming in your direction and if they hadn't grabbed you by the arm you would have surely ended up on the ground like the rest of your stuff.

Your book, your bag, and several spray cans scattered across the ground, some rolling away from you.

"Shit." You said through your teeth, looking up to look into the eyes of the person you had collided with.

A gentle and slightly worried gaze met yours, his chocolate brown eyes watching you as if to make sure you were okay. His expression was completely different from the way the boy who was bothering Dustin had looked at you that morning.

His messy, curly hair was brown like his eyes and his slight smile was reassuring.

"Are you good?" He asked, letting go of your arm after making sure you wouldn't fall.

"Oh, thank god you're not a cop!"

“And neither are you, good for both of us.” He chuckled before helping you pick up what you had dropped. You did the same, so quickly that you didn't even realize you had put something in the bag that didn't belong to you.

"I'm fine." You grabbed the spray can he was holding out to you, your fingers grazed his, adorned with chunky silver rings, and the action made you feel a weird sensation that you couldn't identify and that only lasted a few seconds in your stomach, “thank you.”

"It's a pleasure. It's always nice to help pretty girls break the law." He chuckled.

"I wasn't breaking any laws." You rolled your eyes, aware that you both knew you were lying, almost without realizing that he had called you pretty.

"Then why did you hope I wasn't a cop?"

"Maybe I just think they're not nice."

"Well, believe me, I've been arrested several times and I can guarantee you that most of them aren't."

You raised your eyebrows. "You've been arrested several times? What the hell did you do?"

"You really don't wanna know."

“Okay mystery man,” You rolled your eyes, the boy laughed at the nickname and you immediately liked the sound of it, then you held out your hand, introducing yourself.

He shook it and you felt that feeling in your stomach again but decided to ignore it, “Eddie.”

"Okay Eddie, are you good at giving an unbiased opinion on a mural done in an alley while standing on garbage bins?" You asked and without even waiting for an answer you started pushing him towards the dragon on the wall.

Usually you didn't need random strangers' opinions on your street art but this time you felt like you wanted to spend more time with that metal singer looking guy with the sweetest eyes you'd ever seen. And also, he wasn't a stranger anymore, he was Eddie.

“Oh sure, I was born for that.” He stated confidently.

Your laughter echoed down the alley as you reached the mural.

"There we go. Now you are an accessory to the crime."

"Well, in reality.... I didn't do anything. I'm just an innocent witness."

"You have paint on your hands."

"I don't-" He looked at his palms and realized you had stained one of his hands with green paint when you held it. "Oh, fuck you."

You laughed. "So? What do you think?"

“I think it's worthy of being on the cover of a metal album, it's amazing, really.”

"Well, thanks. For now it will stay on the wall of a dark alley."

"Really, that's so fucking cool. You should do this as a job or something like that."

"Well, I'm still in high school and I'm looking for someone who needs a babysitter to earn some money so... not yet, I guess."

"Well then I guess we'll meet there."

“Are you still in high school?”

Eddie sighed, as if expecting a joke on that.

"Hey, we don't judge people here. What do you expect from a girl who's spending her Sunday afternoon with a stranger chatting in front of some garbage cans?"

"I expect her to be cool as hell. And well-" He paused, as if thinking about it carefully, "I think she is."

You couldn't help but laugh again.

When you got home you still had a stupid smile on your face. You liked Eddie, you liked the way he made you feel like you didn't have to pretend to be someone else around him, you liked the way he called you "pretty" five more times that afternoon, you liked the way his eyes lit up when he talked about music, you liked the way he kindly asked you if he could walk you home since the sky was getting dark and he didn't want anything bad to happen to you, you liked the sound of his laughter and the way he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks when you told him that your opinion on Hawkings had become better after you met him.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Your aunt asked you when you entered the house.

"I met a boy."

She smirked.

"Don't look at me with that face, I just met him. He was just being nice."

"Mh-mh sure." She laughed as you rolled your eyes and walked into your room, leaving your bag on the bed.

When you unzipped it, something inside caught your attention: a small, brown leather-covered notebook you'd never seen before.

Your first thought was how the hell did he end up in there, then you remembered your clash with Eddie a few hours earlier. Was it possible that you had taken it without realizing it?

You got under the covers with the notebook in your hands. It was small but the pages were so many and so thin that someone could have started writing in it years before and still not filled it all.

You knew you shouldn't have done it, it might have contained private things, but you couldn't resist.

You opened it.

As soon as you did, a black and white photo of a girl with dark hair and a sun dress fell off the first page.

She was smiling and she was really pretty, you wondered who she could be. In the background you could see a garden and the sun shining in the sky.

It was wrinkled as if someone had held it in their hands for a long time.

Then, you read the first lines of the first page of the notebook. The writing was messy but legible, some words had been crossed out and rewritten probably due to some grammatical error or unclear thoughts.

"I realized that I almost don't remember her anymore and that's the thing that scares me the most. I don't want to forget her."

You couldn't help but wonder how you could feel the pain in those words simply by reading them in an old, crumpled notebook.

Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx @yujyujj @findmeincorneliastreet @kennedy-brooke @witchwolflea

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x alt!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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slashers-and-rats · 7 months

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micheal myers x gn!reader | nsfw |

kintober day 4: con-noncon

rat chat: not all of the days are gonna be this long, as you’ve noticed. but i’ll try to make full fics when i can. i think this one is really good, so i hope you guys like it.

you could hear footsteps echoing your own as you walked through the windy neighbourhood. the street lamps did little to light your path, only seeming to add to the unease that had settled deep into your stomach.

your heartbeat had picked up drastically, and despite the chill in the air, your hands were sweaty. you were surprised at how quickly the fear had set in. right as the moon centred in the sky, and you began your little stroll through down your usual path, anxiety had crept in. something was about to happen, you could feel it. the anticipation came from paranoia, you knew that. but you couldn’t shake it.

you glanced at the houses around you, eyes darting over the darkened windows. people were already in bed, unaware of your presence completely. no one would know you were there.

you slipped your hands down into your pockets, patting around for your phone as a way to distract yourself. oh right, you had left it at home, it had been dead when you decided you wanted to go out.

you sighed through your teeth, cursing yourself quietly as you scanned the area again. this time you dared to look behind you.

there, a good few metres behind you, was a man. the figure was obscured by shadows, but some details broke through thanks to the flickering lights around you. he wore a jumpsuit, almost akin to something a mechanic might wear. his face seemed to hold no features, almost scarily pale, and messy hair draped over bits of his forehead. his hands were stark at his side, and he walked with such purpose.

when you saw him, you hesitated, stopping for a moment to study him. when you saw him stop too, the air escaped from your lungs. you sucked in a deep breath, taking a few steps backwards, and watching as he stayed in rhythm with you.

you turned back around, starting to hurry now back to your home. you were never much of a runner, but the adrenaline coursing through you allowed you to at least go faster than you had expected. you knew the neighbourhood well, you knew your path well. with luck, maybe you could get to your house. maybe you were misunderstanding this all, maybe he was just some man fucking with you, maybe, maybe-

his presence hit you first. it felt as though two mismatched magnets had met- the force hit your back and seemed to repel you forward. for a minute, despite knowing he was right there, right behind you, he didn’t act. it’s like he was teasing you. he knew you couldn’t run, he knew you couldn’t get away, and so he played with you. you could hear his breathing behind you, you his footsteps faltered as he tried to keep himself close but not right against you.

you examined the area again, this time not daring to catch the eye of the being behind you. you were a block away from your house. maybe he didn’t know that, maybe you could lead him there and get inside before he even realized you had made it to home base? you could call someone then, and this sick game would be over. maybe you could run for it, maybe you could make it, maybe you would win?

you rounded a corner, and it allowed you to see your destination. at the end of the road, you could see the warm glow of your living room through your curtained windows. there it was. you picked up your pace yet again, fuelled by the flight response pumping adrenaline into your bloodstream. much to your surprise, he didn’t pick up his own steps, allowing you to create distance.

maybe he was finished? maybe he was done with messing with you? maybe he just wanted to scare you? whatever it was, for a moment there was relief. you nearly jogged up to the fence of your house, looping around to the backdoor. the front had been dead bolted before you left, the only way in was from there.

you rounded the first corner of your house, and that’s when you heard it. sprinting. the heavy boots of the man from before was hitting the pavement hard, and out of the corner of your eye you saw his quick, deliberate strides. your eyes widened, and you finally began to run. he was nearly a block away, he couldn’t get there. he couldn’t, he couldn’t. you kept telling yourself this as you turned into your backyard, running up to your backdoor. you dug around in your jacket pockets for your keys, whipping them out right as the sound of pavement turned to the sound of lawn. your hands, slippery with sweat, struggled to find the right key. you pressed the wrong one into the lock, making you curse hard. you fumbled to finally find your saving grace, and when you did you sighed heavily.

just as you pressed it into the doorknob, he got you.

his chest pressed hard into your back, trapping you up against the door. all of your air escaped you, barely anything left was there to make the small squeal that came out of you. you squirmed against his body, pushing back against him, but his arms boxed in around you. you were trapped.

you could hear your pulse in your ears. you went to scream, but a free hand already came up to cover your mouth. it muffled your cry, and you squeezed your arm down to try and get at the key in the doorknob. it felt as though he allowed you to, letting you turn it and fall into the doorway of your kitchen.

you stumbled up to your feet, turning around to see the man stepping up into the room with you. he loomed over you, walking in enough that he could lazily kick the door behind him closed. this wasn’t thought through. now it was you and him, alone in the house, with nowhere to escape to.

you darted to one of the drawers in the kitchen, searching for something to defend yourself, but all you did was allow him to press his body up against yours once again. this time he didn’t have to cover your mouth, he didn’t have to trap you. you did it all yourself.

you turned around, pushing your hands against his chest. he grabbed your wrists, pinning them down by your sides while he leaned down and rubbed his face into your neck. it was a mask. through the holes in it, you saw his real eyes, peering up at you with a sharp, somewhat cold gaze. deep inside them, somewhere, there was also a burning. lust? you could see it. it sent a fire into your own core. you wiggled against him still as his hips slotted against yours, rubbing his bulge up and down your own warmth.

this must’ve excited him. the way he panted behind the plastic of his mask, the way he ground against you, the way he shoved himself as hard against you as possible. something about it was restrained, controlled, but the need he felt seeped through. maybe it was the chase? the feeling of catching his prey and taking his prize? you were his prize.

he let go of your wrists, deeming them little threat as his hands moved to your pants. they were loose things, a pair you didn’t care about. he ripped them with ease, revealing your lower half with little effort. you felt embarrassed, hands once again finding purchase against his broad chest. he pushed his fingers against his own clothes, finding a zipper at the top of his neck, and ripping it down his body. out fell his naked torso, defined and scarred. your eyes trailed down each and every line, looking at all the details. they trailed lower and lower, over his stomach and down his happy trail, resting on the cock that had fallen out of the front of his jumpsuit.

part of you was surprised he didn’t wear underwear, and the other part of you didn’t really care what he wore, because that wasn’t really the point right now.

your eyes widened, and he caught this, catching you when you turned away and began trying to run for the door again. he grabbed you easily, pinning your front down against the counter below you. your face pressed to the cool surface, and you whimpered at the sensation.

you felt him rut against your butt at that, enjoying the sounds of surprise you made every time his cock slid between your cheeks. you tried to wiggle your hips away, but it only added to his pleasure, the movements pressing you more into him. he was thick, pulsing against your behind. one of his hands held your hips, the other pressing flat against your back to keep you down.

suddenly, he stopped, pulling his cock away from your flesh. you breathed deep, anticipation wracking your brain. what was he doing? where did he go? his hands were still on you, but…

you listened to him huff, the hand from your hips being removed. you knew what he was doing when you felt his head pressing against your hole. you gasped, once again beginning to writhe, but he held you down. the second he was aligned, he pushed into you all the way.

the sudden intrusion pushed a sob from your chest. your mouth hung open, your hands moving back to meet the hips that were flush against yours. the sting of pain from the stretch you were feeling set you on fire. much to your dismay, it felt good. the flames licked at your insides, warming your core and filling you with pleasure. the sob that had escaped lowered into a small moan.

he sat for a moment, feeling you twitch. the second you had managed to relax against the counter, he seemed to take it as an invitation, and pulled himself back out to the head, before slamming back in. he began a steady rhythm, not too fast, while getting as deep as possible every time he moved. he filled you out so well, his cock pushing up against your g-spot with every movement without him even trying. it’s as if he knew your body perfectly, playing it like an instrument with ease. it was embarrassing. you were coming undone just from a few strokes inside of you. maybe it wasn’t just that? maybe it was all of it? the chase, the adrenaline, the anticipation, the excitement.

he felt it too. you could tell. he was groaning behind you, breathing heavy. his free hand found your hip again, gripping hard into your soft flesh, while the one on your back moved to the back of your neck. he squeezed his grip there, making you gasp, and you could feel him twitch inside you as response. he was desperate, you could feel it. he wasn’t here to play anymore. he wanted what he wanted, and it was only a bonus that you also felt good.

he pressed himself all the way inside of you, holding himself there in your walls for a moment. you relaxed against the counter, enjoying the way he filled you out. you weren’t supposed to be, but you couldn’t help it. it was a bit heavenly.

you could hear him gathering his senses, shifting his foot placement. both hands left your body, moving to grip at the counter on both sides of you. he then began moving, this time with more purpose. this wasn’t for you anymore, this time all thoughts of your pleasure had gone out the window. this time, he pumped into you hard and fast, hips barely pulling out before snapping back into you. despite the aggression in his movements, despite the way he seemed to forget you were even there, you moaned.

he was massaging your sweet spot, and with these shorter movements, he never let up on the area inside of you. it was constant stimulation. you felt overwhelmed, trying to push away, and escape this intense feeling, but you couldn’t. it only caused you to rock against him, shoving him deeper into your walls. he seemed to like the way you struggled, because he growled low underneath his breath, hips stuttering slightly, slowing for a moment, before hitting even harder into your fragile body. it made you thump against the counter with every movement.

a hand reached up, finding the back of your shirt, and pulling you into his body. you straightened, his chest pressed against your back, your elbows coming to rest against the counter to support the new position. his cock was barely moving inside you, barely thrusting, and yet you both were flooded with pleasure. you could feel him twitching inside you, which was just a response to your walls squeezing hard around him.

your orgasm was sudden. the build rushed up on you, having you scrambling to find stability. you were too late though, and it hit you like a truck, leaving you slack and trembling against the counter in front of you. you spasmed around his cock, your sounds sinful and slutty, all being poured out into the air of your kitchen.

it was enough for him. all of the sensations of the night had lead up to this, and within a few more strokes, he was coming hard inside of you. you could feel his cum flooding your insides, spilling out around his cock. behind you, he shook, his own moans near broken and choked. you both sat for a moment in the after, coming down from such intense climaxes.

“micheal…? micheal, you good back there…?” you rasped out after a moment. you felt your boyfriend shift, his arms coming to wrap around your torso as he laid his entire body over your own. you giggled, wiggling your butt against him, making him groan at the stimulation. “c’mon, get off… this counter isn’t really comfy, y’know.”

he grumbled something, before pushing himself up, and pulling himself out of you. you felt his cum spilling down your thigh, and he gathered some up on his finger, lazily pushing it back up against your hole. it made you sigh, and you straightened and turned around to face him. his arms immediately wrapped around your middle yet again, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“that was good. really good, actually, I’m surprised.” you stroked through his hair. “we should get cleaned up, though, I’m spent… i need sleep,” you whined the last part, before chuckling. he nodded, though didn’t move away from you. “you can take a shower with me?” he looked up out of your neck at this offer, and nodded, before beginning to pull you towards the bathroom.

you’d have to do this again, you thought. but maybe next time, you could be the big bad slasher. you wondered if micheal would even let you wear the suit and mask. you hoped.

either way, for now, you were content just taking a shower. you had won this little game, and this was your prize.

#slasher x reader #slashers #micheal myers x reader #micheal myers #kinktober

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kkydult · 17 days

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— Lights out

non idol!minghao x introvert!gn!reader - fluff + mischief(?) - 1.5k

a/n. i haven’t written in a while, i hope you enjoy this im pretty much done with school so i might be active again soon !!

“You can’t be serious right now — you brought me here” you whine at your friend, one of your closest friends at that, she had this big plan on taking you out to actually live life after being down for months over nothing and now…

“I’ll make up for it. Please, just go try talk to people, they’re my friends you’ll get along well… I’m so sorry” she pushes you gently with soft shoulder pats towards the entrance of the building where the main event was taking place, you turn back to her with a frown. It really seems pointless if she’s not there, you don’t even want to talk to people.

She gives you an apologetic smile paired with a gentle wave and there she goes waving her hand on the main street for a taxi abandoning you finally. You decide to suck it up for at least half an hour, she can’t really get mad at that considering she abandoned you.

The soirée is of course on the rooftop so you’re in the elevator for 3 minutes at least before you get there, 30 mins will fly by. Naturally you find yourself by the bar while everyone else has a place in the crowd, dancing, chatting, it all seems fun but you’re out of your comfort zone, the alcohol should help but you’ll be out before it hits.

Minutes passed nothing changed, a few drunk guys tried to make conversation after noticing your “loneliness” but they quickly realized you were alone for a reason. As soon as you get up you stumble on your feet, bumping into a new stranger, the surprised look on his face as he holds your arms to help you up makes you actually want to talk, but the daydream is swiftly caught off by someone else, a girl this time and she’s not too pleased with your clumsiness. Being light headed is a curse.

“Get your hands off him” she snatches your arm away from his grip, the look she gives you confuses you so much considering you did nothing in the situation, you’re just about to apologize and call it a day only for her to snap at you once again, “You’re so embarrassing being all over him like that” before you can defend yourself she walks away dragging him along with her, your eyes meet his and an amused smile creeps on his lips, you scoff in disbelief and return your focus on getting out of there.

Only reason you had to get up the next morning after such an exhausting night was for your regular art class and while you could easily cancel, you needed it to stop your chronic bed rotting. You get there a few minutes before the class starts and watch as the room fills up gradually. Your eyes linger on one person in particular, he looked familiar but you couldn’t place it at first until he catches you staring and gives you that smile again, your eyes shift back to your canvas and you’re rethinking getting up this morning.

The class is like background noise and your eyes are completely fixed to your canvas till the assignment starts. Something is telling you you’re overreacting because you’ve never seen him before this and now after that incident he’s all of a sudden your classmate and the worst part is he’s directly in front of you, he can probably tell you’re hiding behind your canvas. You finally focus on the task at hand, glancing at the model and analyzing in shape before replicating the movement on your page, the urge to look up at him is literally the only thing that’s constant in your mind so you take a peek between strokes. First glance, he’s not looking at the model, second glance, he’s literally looking at you, third glance, why the hell is he staring at you?

He’s making this harder than it should be, he should focus on drawing. It’s making it hard for you to concentrate and it wasn’t easy in the first place, you look up in his direction again just to be sure, this time he’s not looking but his gaze shifts like he could feel yours and for some reason you don’t look away, he tilts his head slightly with a soft smile as to ask why you’re staring and it snaps you right back. Now you’re trying to distract yourself with the drawing but it’s barely effective when you’re basically under the spotlight, you can feel the heat spreading all over your face.

Once the class is over you debate on confronting him or just leaving and never turning back of course you choose the latter but it’s never that easy, you’re about to step out right when your professor reminds you it’s your turn to clear up the class and obviously you’re paired with him, Minghao. The class gets empty quickly and now you’re alone together and it feels so awkward, you feel obliged to say something dumb.

“Were you staring at me?” you ask completely avoiding his face as you arrange the materials into their respective cupboards, your head jolted in his direction when you hear him snicker as if you were joking, he looks at you with that smile still plastered on his face enjoying every moment of this exchange.

“Why would I be staring at you?”

“You tell me, I literally saw you” his smile grows and for some reason it makes you nervous like your stomach is acting weird, he’s making this feel so weird to you cause why would he be staring at you? he’s literally across the room but it feels like he’s pulling you in with his remarks,

“oh you saw me?” you can only muster out a hum in response with a slight nod, why do you feel so little? he sighs finally grabbing his coat from the hanger, “You were just in my view, don’t worry” and just like that he’s gone leaving you there with a wink and a stupid statement, whatever you were gonna change classes anyway.

Makes absolute sense that the only time you’re thinking nonstop about a guy is when he literally made fun of you in your face multiple times. It’s probably been two weeks since you saw him last and his face, his voice, his stupid smile have been on heavy rotation in your mind daily, it’s especially annoying considering you have no interest in seeing him again, it was too embarrassing for you last time it would only be worse. You’ll get over it he’s just a hot guy.

“WHAT A GUY?!” you turn over and there she is, you don’t even know how she got into your house but she’s gonna make this a big deal,

“Please no.. I don’t want to think about it” she pouts for literally a second then gives you the most demonic smile ever, “I have the perfect solution, actually that’s why i’m here. To make up for last time. Yay!” she drops her bag that’s probably filled with dresses and makeup on the floor and drags you off your comfort zone.

Just like that you’re back at 2 weeks ago at the front door of a nice apartment only this time you won’t be going in alone, she’s holding on tightly to your arm you can tell she’s excited as you make your way in. As you walk through the crowd you realize she quite literally knows every one and so every corner is a new conversation, it almost starts getting repetitive.

“Haoo! Oh wow I didn’t expect to see you here” You look up to greet this new friend and it’s him, you almost say it out loud out of shock. As soon as your eyes meet you feel a jolt across your heart it feels so silly to be so weak just from a man’s gaze and yet. He wasn’t just looking at you he was taking in every detail of your face.

He turns back his gaze to your friend, greeting her back with a soft kiss on her hand right before bringing his attention back to you, a soft smile on his lips as you let him take your hand to place a kiss upon. His gaze lifts up at you and that smile resurfaces forcing you to divert your gaze.

“Are you still embarrassed?” he asks softly keeping his eyes on yours, his eyebrow raising slightly. You turn over to your friend and she’s already gone to continue greeting others, you sigh before looking back at him and he breathes out a soft laughter letting his smile linger as his eyes travel down to your lips,

“Okay i’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d leave really. I was just teasing” you feel even more embarrassed from that, you really thought you wouldn’t have to see him again. The movement of the crowd drawing you closer and closer to each other, he can probably feel your breath on his chest, the way he’s looking at you is only making it heavier.

“I didn’t leave cause of you.” he tries to hold back his smile this time looking away with his eyes shut before coming back to you, he nods understandingly making you roll your eyes at him,

“Just you know… don’t avoid me anymore, it was fun teasing you but I actually want to get to know you”

#via writes ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 #kpop fanfic #kpop bg #kpop #kpop fluff #seventeen fluff #the8 x reader #3rd gen kpop #minghao x reader #minghao fluff #minghao fanfic #the8 fluff #the8 imagines #svt fluff #kpopccc #svt fanfic #xu minghao

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dejwrites · 2 years

Text

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ close to you ⠀ 〳 ⠀ n.brown ‵ ❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) nicolas brown becomes close with a teacher in ergastulum's 8th district.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — handyman!nicolas x teacher!reader, female reader, female anatomy described, canonverse, reader knows sign language, soft!nicolas, written with black reader in mind, oral (m.receiving), riding/cowgirl position, protective!nicolas, he feels you up wink wink, i know the gansta fandom about 25 people pls don't let this flop besties, dej is practicing writing soft smut, i put sign language in quotation marks bc i have read in this guide that it's best to do that when writing deaf characters, my entry for @maydayaisha 'anti collab event', wc: 5.2k, minors dni !

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — click here to join gangsta taglist ♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — click here for gangsta masterlist

BEING A TEACHER IN A CITY THAT LURKED WITH TWILIGHTS AND CRIME WASN’T THE EASIEST. To you, it felt like it was the people with the most money that controlled Ergastulum. It sucked that much funding didn’t go towards the school, but you worked with what you had with the money you made. Buying little treats for your students from Gramps snacks to pencils and notebooks for students that didn’t have any. As you sat at the desk, you could hear the sound of your student Isabelle coloring in the coloring book you provided for her as you waited for her parents to pick them up. You could tell the little girl was growing impatient with each strike of the clock due to how harshly she gripped the yellow crayon in her hand. While your classroom lights flickered, you kissed your teeth when you realized that the handymen you requested to change the bub didn’t come today.

Isabelle glances up at you and your face softens. The little girl was seven and you knew that she was slowly getting a grasp on the things around her. Especially given that she was one of the only deaf students in your class. Her parents had a thing where they swarmed themselves with so much work that they forget to pick up their own child. You were frustrated and angry at the fact that they would rather keep themselves busy with their work than bother to pick up their child or show up to her little school events. You hated thinking that maybe they thought her loss of hearing was a burden. That made your stomach form the most hideous knots at the thought of it and the doe-eyed look she was giving you at the moment was ten seconds away from having your lip quiver.

You were used to it by now. She didn’t live that far away from the school, her house wasn’t even that far from your house. However, you didn’t trust the wicked streets of Ergastulum to let the little girl walk home alone. So, you found yourself walking her home no matter what.

“My parents forgot didn’t that?” Isabelle signed to you.

You could see that her bold brown eyes were beginning to water, “I’m sorry. They probably got caught up with work again,” You signed back. “Just let me finish up this lesson plan and we can head out, okay?” You soon signed back and you watched as the little girl lifted her hands to attempt to sign something back, but her movements were put to a halt when you heard a knock on your opened classroom door.

That’s when you saw him. Nicolas Brown. He wasn’t a stranger around the school—he and his friend Worick always found themselves fixing little things around the building like that one door that never actually closes or the one toilet that doesn’t flush. However, you never actually talked to either one of them. You’ve heard faint whispers about how attractive they were from other teachers, but you minded your business and ignored the mere gossip in the teacher’s lounge. You took notice that it was only him which you understood considering that you just needed a light bulb changed in the room. That task surely wouldn’t need two men to do. You didn’t say much just like him, but it was Isabelle who took note of the way he moved. It was as if she could pick up on his body language.

The little girl watched as he stood on one of the chairs to change the light bulb. Soon pushing herself from her seat and she waltzes over to him in a state of curiosity. Her head tilted to the side watching as he was changing the light bulb that your students kept complaining about. When he was done, Isabelle took the opportunity to tug at the man’s black-colored slacks he was wearing. When you glanced up after finishing the last lesson plan, you nearly leaped out of your seat seeing how close Isabelle was to him. You weren’t particularly afraid of him being around children, after all, he’s been in the school many times, it was the fact that she was in his personal space. You quickly stood up grabbing a hold of Isabelle’s hand and dragging her back to her. “You can’t be so close to people you don’t know.” You signed to her. “Please apologize.” You add.

Isabelle blinked at you a couple of times before she turned to a confused Nicolas to sign her apologies to him. Your lips parted to explain to him that she was signing that she was sorry, but to both you and Isabelle’s shock, you watched as Nicolas signed perfectly back. With Isabelle, the news that her parents forgot to pick her up causes a grey cloud to lurk over her small body, but watching Nicolas sign back to her—her face lit up so bright that you felt strings tugging on your heart. It was the same look she gave you when you successfully signed something for her. A rich feeling of being comfortable around some people.

“Okay, Isabelle. Now that Mr. Nicolas fixed our lights for us, we should get out of here. I’ll walk you home.” You signed while also speaking out loud so she could read your lips.

She gave you a nod before going to collect her belongings, while you did the same. You didn’t even notice that Nicolas was still standing in the middle of your classroom. Still astonished at the little kid signing back at him so perfectly and then struck by the sudden beauty of seeing you and the way you were gentle with the young girl. It was an experience he had never been able to experience growing up, especially with being a Twilight.

“Thank you, Mr. Nicolas. But we should really get out of here, I would hate to have to walk home in the dark,” You signed.

You watched as the once stern look that was pasted on Nicolas’s face disappeared. His posture relaxed in front of you before he’s signing, “I will walk you two to your destinations.”

Your chapstick-covered lips parted to argue, hands already going up to protest against his kind gestures. However, the tug at your charcoal grey pencil skirt by Isabelle caused you to abruptly stop. She was perfectly fine with this gentleman walking the two of you to your destination and the way she proudly led you and Nicolas out of the building showed that. The sky illuminated a faded orange color as the sun was just setting, reaching its season where it became darker earlier than usual. As you clutched at your bag, your eyes never left the child that was skipping with joy in front of you and Nicolas. The both of you basking in the silence as your feet followed Isabelle towards her home. She’s done this walk so many times that you were sure she could remember her way home blindfolded. You just didn’t trust to let her walk herself home considering her hearing being gone.

You and Nicolas’s arms lightly brushed against each other as you were walking alongside the sidewalk. You could see small shop owners prepping to close their stores for the evening. Once you could smelt the sweet scent of cherry pie that always came from Isabelle’s neighbor's house, you knew that the three of you were near. You watched as Isabelle leaned forward to let her small fist knock on the door. You took a couple of steps placing your hand on her shoulders protectively. You had to have this talk with her parents and when the door was opened, the strong smell of alcohol overpowered the cherry pie scent when you saw her father.

Your face scrunched up in disgust while it seemed the grasp on Isabelle’s shoulder tighten. You didn’t want her to go in there when her father was in this state. You watched as he stepped aside to let his daughter inside the house which caused you to finally let her go. You knelt down to her sight giving her a smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to come so we can walk to class together.” You signed to her.

Isabelle gave you a smile and nodded with quickness. Her eyes soon averting to Nicolas—whom you assumed walked away already now that you’ve reached Isabelle’s house. She signed a quick thank you before rushing into her home disappearing further and further inside the home. You stood up smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in your pencil skirt, “Mr. Newman, I know you and your wife are extremely busy with work, but it’s important to have someone pick Isab—”

SLAM.

You jumped at the harsh door slam in your face, subtly flinching at the aggressive action done by Isabelle’s father. Your breathing hitched in your throat and your fist clenched tightly before your hand went back to knock once again. This time your knock was as harsh as the slamming of the door. When you heard the door unlocking, you could feel Nicolas's presence next to you. When Mr. Newman appeared at the door, in a span of two seconds Nicolas collected him by the collar of his shirt. The grasp he had on the drunken man was so tight that if you looked closely, you could see Nicolas’s knuckles turn white. He tugs him closer so that his mouth was near the guy’s ear. You stood there and witnessed Mr. Novak’s face turn to the most horrified expression. You even could see that his eyes begin to water at whatever Nicolas’s voice croaked in his ears. Then Nicolas released the hold he had on him, letting the man scatter to the ground and cough up apologies towards you.

“It’s okay, just please make sure to pick up Isabelle on time tomorrow and sober. I don’t want to get the cops involved,” You firmly stated before you’re twirling around and walking away from the house.

Your heart was pouncing against your chest as you realized what just happened. He defended your honor as if he was your knight in shining armor and you didn’t know what to say or react. As the two of you were walking, him promptly following you to your next destination, you stepped in front of him. The puzzled look he gave you caused your heartbeat to slow down. You now were taking in his features. Now understand why the teachers whispered about him in such a nefarious manner. He was attractive, extremely attractive.

“Thank you, I’ve always had trouble with her father.” You signed. “I can walk home by myself now.”

Even when you walked away, he still followed you like a guardian angel and you didn’t bother to protest against it. Once you stopped in front of your home, you would glance around your surroundings. You didn’t need any nosey neighbors peeking through their curtains to see the local elementary teacher letting a man into her home. You couldn’t afford to be the gossip in your small neighborhood, especially when the elderly have been urging you to settle down before your pretty looks fade away. With your keys in your hand, you would fall back on your dorr before signing to Nicolas, “To show my gratitude for you, please join me for dinner. It’s okay if you’re busy though. We can always do it another time.”

You studied his facial features, once again taking in how gorgeous he was. So caught up in your own thoughts before realizing that he had accepted your offer. His fingers snap in front of your face to break the trace that causes your cheek to heat up like a burning flame. You uttered an apology as if he could hear it before turning around to unlock the door. When you pushed the door open, you would step inside first. You turned the lamp that was in the living room on after quickly kicking off your shoes to slide into the house slippers you kept near the door.

Your house was like a sacred tomb to you. It was filled with so many memories, both good and bad and you had a thing where you just couldn’t let them go. The house was given to you when your grandparents passed away, some of the furniture once belonged to them. “I can take your jacket for you,” You signed before watching him tug off the jacket to give to you.

As he was taking off the jacket, his black colored shirt lifted slightly revealing bandages that were wrapped around his torso. You didn’t pester him about it because after all, he was just a guardian angel that looked out for you and your student. You were sure you wouldn’t see him after your kind gesture in return. After hanging up his jacket, you would motion around the living room filled with the comfortable sofa. “I’m going to start dinner in the kitchen, make sure yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I have water, beer, wine, anything.”

“Beer would be fine.” Nicolas signed to you.

You gave him a smile and twirled away to the kitchen to give him a beer. You walked into the kitchen turned the light on and went to grab the beer to give to Nicolas. Once you returned, Nicolas was comfortably sitting down on your sofa. You just were happy that he felt comfortable even though you two were technically strangers.

Y/N, your grandmother would faint if she saw you had a complete stranger in this house.

You placed the beer on the coffee table in front of Nicolas and eventually returned to the kitchen to prepare dinner. When you cooked, you always cooked as if you were cooking for a big family. Even though it was only you that walked around this home, you still had this tendency to cook as you were cooking for a big family. Usually packing the layovers for students who didn’t have lunch or a homeless person you walked by on your way to school. You wore your kind heart on your sleeve proudly and you were confident about that. So in tune with cooking as you hummed the lyrics to a song that was stuck in your head, you nearly jumped out of your slippers when you saw Nicolas leaning against the counter in the kitchen with a book in his hand.

After putting something in the oven, you wiped your hands onto the towel as he held the book up, “Oh, I used that book to help me learn sign language for Isabelle.” You signed with a smile as stepped forward.

Nicolas was flipping through the book. It was the same one from when he was younger. He still clung to that copy also but seeing a copy that looked brand new caused his heart to feel heavy. His fingers flipped through a couple of pages to see if anything new was added to the book compared to when he was younger, but it was still the same. He went to return the book back to its rightful spot, especially since while you were in the kitchen he was snooping around your bookshelf that was in the corner of your living room.

You could hear Nicolas’s footsteps while you were moving around your kitchen grabbing plates and forks to set the table. You stopped in your tracks to look at him as he was about to sign something to you, but he stopped. Perhaps, you were overthinking it. You wanted to think that he wanted to ask more questions about you learning sign language. However, your brain was telling you a man like him could care less about such a moment like that.

An hour and thirty minutes passed until you two finally sat at the table to eat. You sipped at your wine letting your eyes watch Nicolas before going back to eating dinner yourself. Your eyes glanced down to toy with the vegetables on your plate before hearing a tap on the table.

“You learned to sign for just one student?” Nicolas signed.

You could tell that this question was the one that he wanted to ask early. His eyebrows were knitted together in curiosity before he’s leaning his body forward while sitting across from you at the circular dining room table. If he moved any closer–his knees would be brushing against yours under the table.

“Yeah, it was either that or she would have to go to a school that was too far away from her home.” You signed back. “She’s quite clever for her age, so she’s been helpful as I continue to learn.” You add before letting your hands fall to your side.

“I can teach you also,” Nicolas signed.

“You’ve done enough Mr. Nicolas.” You signed back. “I don’t want to be much of a burden in your busy schedule.” You sign.

“I’ll make time.” Nicolas signed back before his lips formed a sly smile at you that caused your heart to thump against your chest in complete love struck.

“It seems like that copy of the book you had was important to you. You can keep that copy, I have another one at the school.” You signed to him with a smile before you went back to enjoying his company and the dinner you cooked.

When Nicolas left your house with the book, his appearance in your life became frequent. Isabelle’s parents seem to get the memo to pick her up from school on time and her father even kept apologizing despite his harsh actions being pushed to the back of your mind already. Instead of walking Isabelle home as you would walk home, Nicolas would be the one constantly walking you home. Some days you were forced to ignore the dried-up blood that was on his shirt or staining the silver Twilight tag around his neck just to adore the moments between you two. ‘Cause, you cherished the walks to your house and dinners at your house before he’s rushing off with Worick. On other days you were stuck reminiscing each time his lips brushed against yours as he’s rushing out of your house with his katana. Gosh, you were lovesick.

Those days turned to weeks and those weeks turned into a month of you seeing each other and one evening you could tell that something was up. It wasn’t a feeling that left worry in your mind, but you could tell something was on Nicolas’s mind. He was like one of your favorite books that you didn’t get tired of reading. You knew when something upset him, you knew when something bothered him. You just knew him.

While finishing up the aftermath of dinner, you were getting ready for bed alone. You expected tonight to be special, but Nicolas had to run out to fix something real quick. Frantically signing something along the terms of Worick needing something. It frustrated you that he would dash out here like that for Worick, but he explained the relationship between the two of them and you knew that you couldn’t get in between that. Especially considering the circumstances the two have been through since they were little. You treated the rest of the night as if it was a night before you met Nicolas. You did a little planning for your class tomorrow and you read a couple of chapters of your book before eventually letting slumber take over your body.

Forty-five minutes passed of you being asleep until you could feel the flicker of your light being switched on. You sat up and instantly rub the sleep out of your eyes before noticing Nicolas’s figure in the doorframe of your room door. You forgot you gave him a spare key to your place. He took a couple of steps forward in your room until he was at the end of your bed. You finally rubbed the rest of the sleep out of your eyes as you notice him holding the bouquet of red roses, some of them being messed up as if he was running with them.

“Nic, it’s so late. I thought you said you had to do something with Worrick.” You signed in between a low yawn but you did push the pastel-colored duvet off your body before crawling towards his frame that stood at the end of your bed. You sat on your knees in front of his huge stature collecting the roses out of his hand.

You tiredly chuckle before bringing the roses up your nose to spell them. The scent of the flowers lingering up your nose before you’re looking up at him, “You left to get these so late at night.” You signed to him with a smile as you watch him nod.

“The very last floral shop was about to close, paid extra money for them.” Nicolas signed with a sly smile. “Sorry that they’re messed up, I wanted to get back here quickly as possible.” He soon adds.

You felt your cheeks heat up while glancing at the flowers on your lap. “Why?” You sign to him and your curious eyes meet with his dark ones. Those dark eyes that once were so hard to read to you were now filled with possible love.

“It’s been a month since we first met.” Nicolas signed.

If you were in a cartoon, you would most likely die and viewers would see your transparent figure float towards the sky. You didn’t even think about what today was, but here Nicolas was leaving in the middle of the night to get you flowers for today. You excused yourself quickly to tend to the roses, being sure to place them in the living room right so they can be the first thing you see when you enter your home. When you returned to your room, Nicolas's eyes followed you with every step you took—you took the place back on the bed. Sitting on your knees and now your eyes were filled with just Nicolas. Your mind was thinking about Nicolas. Your body needed Nicolas. Your hand reached for his belt to undo it as your eyes met his in such an innocent manner but soon you felt Nicolas stop you.

“You shouldn’t feel obligated to do this just because I gave you some flowers.” He signed to you.

Regardless of his words, you could see the tent that was built in his pants. You chewed at your lower lip before signing back, “It’s what I want and what you deserve, now let me take care of you Nic.”

You watched as Nicolas’s lips parted to argue before his hands fell to his side and let you continue to push down his pants. When you finally disregarded him of the black pants he wore, your mouth watered at the bulge in his grey-colored briefs. This would be the first time you’ve seen Nicolas's cock. Late and lonely nights when you were left eager for his body, you were stuck with your own imagination of what his member would look like. Or what it would feel like inside you or in your mouth. The mere thought of it caused you to feel dizzy and your panties to be soaked.

Your finger traced alongside the band of his briefs before you tugged them down also. Teeth nibbling against your lower lip at the sight. It was like your imaginative mind was true all along. You visualized that it was thick. It was quite pretty. His perfect-shaped mushroom tip leaked with precum and his tanned colored shaft was decorated with a visible vein that obviously was noticeable due to how hard he was. You noticed that it had to be a while seeing his trimmed down there, but you didn’t care. Your mind raced with thoughts about just being sure to make Nicolas feel better. You inched closer to the edge of the bed while Nicolas was standing in front of you, his cock waiting patiently for you. Eventually, you’re enclosing the tip of his member in your mouth with ease. The salty taste of precum stains your tongue before you let your tongue wrap around it, gaining a moan from Nicolas. You flattened your tongue to attempt to fit more of Nicolas into your mouth. Your saliva already pooling outside your mouth as you felt the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You pulled apart after gagging just a bit, the string of saliva connecting from Nicolas’s tip. You inched a little closer to palm at Nicolas’s shaft and eventually placed him back into your mouth. Your hand palmed at the portions of Nicolas’s cock that wouldn’t fit into your mouth while you let your wet tongue swirl around his tip.

With each second, you spent with Nicolas’s cock in your mouth, you could hear his low whines. You felt his hand on the back of your head while he guided your movement as your head bobbed up and down mimicking the way a person would dribble a basketball. You could even feel Nicolas’s hips driving forward a little just to feel your mouth around him some more. Perhaps, he was attempting to cherish this one moment as if you were going to be taken away from him the following day. You moaned with the taste of Nicolas on your tongue and your hand reached in between your thighs to rub yourself through your panties. You were so eager for more of Nicolas that you were growing impatient. Soon, you removed yourself from his member with a pop. You let your tongue glide across your lower lip as you were finally able to give your throat a rest. At this point, you could feel your panties stick to your folds due to the wetness. You craved Nicolas immediately. “How’d you want to do this?” You signed, initiating what position he wants to do it in.

After all, this whole session was to assure the feelings between each other, but you also wanted to make Nicolas feel like the best man in the world. You watched his cheeks stain a crimson color as he fiddled with his thumbs and soon was signing to you with a quickness.

And that’s how you found yourself comfortably on top of him completely naked and ready to please him. Your pussy glides across the shaft of his dick as he grabs ahold of your face to kiss you. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth causing you to moan into the passionate kiss. Your hips grind against his hardened member eagerly before you’re forcing your way out of the kiss. A string of saliva connected the two of you as you lifted up. Nicolas’s fingertips traced alongside your collarbone to down to one of your breasts. Your nipples hardened at the sudden touch before you’re reaching behind you to grab his cock. You lifted your hips a little and lined him up with your entrance. Your juices coated the tip of his cock and you watched as Nicolas’s face scrunched up in pure pleasure. You inched yourself slowly upon his cock and bit by bit you felt him stretch you out. You could feel comforting grasps upon your body as your eyes flutter open to be met with Nicolas’s.

You rolled your hips in a manner to confirm that you were okay. The once intense feeling of you getting used to Nicolas’s cock inside of you was overpowered by the feeling of pleasure. Your head fell back with each rock of your hips, your mouth stuttered out profanity words and Nicolas’s name. Your hand prompted on his chest to hold yourself up while riding him and with the help of Nicolas's huge hands he was sure to guide the movement also.

You’ve had lovers in the past, just like you had sex with others also. But for some reason, tonight was much better than those past lovers and flings. Was it because you knew the feelings were mutual? Or perhaps it just was the heat of the moment after Nicolas' kind gesture.

“Fuck—“ You stuttered out before using your knees to bounce on Nicolas's member. You slick coating his cock with each movement on him. When you made such a lewd movement, you felt Nicolas' fingers dig into the flesh of your skin before he gave up trying to control what you were doing.

You watched with tear-filled eyes as he was eagerly watching you take his cock like a big girl. His hands found a place behind his head as if he was relaxing and watching an entertaining movie. With each dip of your hips, Nicolas’s head seems to sink further into the pillow in pleasure. His teeth clamped down on his lower lip before his eyes stared in between the space of the two of your bodies. The pornographic sight of watching his cock disappear bit by bit inside your dripping wet pussy.

Nicolas's body felt like he was undergoing a fever. His breath hitched in his throat when he felt you bottom down once again and let out a broken moan. Nicolas went years without his hearing and had no problem with it, especially considering who he lived with and has been around his whole life. But tonight he ached to hear the way your moans sound or the way you were whimpering out his name. With not being able to hear, he has learned to read your body language quite well. Just by the way your face looked fucked out at the moment, he could tell you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

He watched as you continued to ride him, your breasts moving with each glide of your hips or each bounce you’ve done on his cock. Nicolas could read your lips as you were gasping out that you were close to orgasming. His large tugged you forward so that your bodies were close to each other. Your bare breasts were now upon Nicolas's chest as his hips bucked upward. With each rock of his hips upward, you could feel the pit that sat in your lower abdomen get tighter and heavier. Sweat droplets decorated your forehead as you could only moan out begging for more like a desperate housewife. The fact that Nicolas's strong arms were wrapped around your frame completely trapping you from running from his lustful thrusting like a madman only was helping you get pushed further to the edge. You could feel the tight grip on your limbs and soon felt Nicolas thrusting become sloppy. The warm feeling of his cum squirting inside you once he felt your walls pulse around his cock caused you to instantly kiss him on the lips.

Your mind and body were distracted from the passionate kiss you and Nicolas shared to tug each other off the shared cloud of the two of you cumming. You could feel his fingertips tracing something upon your back. Your mind finally was able to mentally focus on what he was tracing until you finally realized.

I love you.

TAGS — @eiflawriting @sleepy3 @islascafe @caribbeanwifey19 @happy-mimin @kristvns @a3trogirl @poohbea @shamelesshoefairy @berranurates @weasleytwins-41 @chaos-night @allukanezuko @chubbyblackthottie

#gangsta x reader #gangsta smut #anime smut #anime x reader #nicolas brown x reader #nicolas brown smut #maydayanticollab #black reader #x black reader #female reader #fem reader

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erin-bo-berin · 2 years

Note

Are you taking requests? If so, (and if you haven’t already), could you write Steve and reader having car sex? I need it 🥵

I have not yet written that but now I have to! Honestly who wouldn’t want to be railed in that BMW of his? 😏

Mine

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warning: Smut

In was tense in the car, the silence deafening.

“Steve, will you say something?”

His jaw was clenched and he didn’t look at you. Ten minutes earlier you and he left the get together you and your friends had arranged—everyone’s schedules finally aligned to be able to hang out.

You’d been talking to a newer member to the group, Eddie Munson. You’d heard a lot about him, but had yet to meet him. He was extremely charismatic, funny and down to earth.

He told you about Hellfire Club at school—which he was still in despite being almost 20, he claimed this was gonna be his final senior year though.

“Third time’s the charm, right?”

He’d winked at you, making you giggle. It was all in innocent fun as you liked the guy, he was cool.

Even though you had no idea how Dungeons and Dragons worked, he told you about it. In fact, a couple of the younger teens were actually a part of it as well, so you were curious about the intrigue of the game. You may have had a hard time following, but Eddie had an entertaining way of describing it to you without it being boring.

He kept you laughing too, one time to hard your head was thrown back and there were actual tears in your eyes. He wasn’t what’d you’d expected at first glance, seeing the long haired, leather jacket wearing metal head. He truly was a cool dude.

You’d lost track of your boyfriend, assuming Steve was off chatting with one of the other numerous people in the swarm of friends. In actuality, he was distracted most of the evening, shooting daggers at Eddie and watching you with him.

Eddie was a shameless flirt, but you didn’t take it to heart. You got the feeling he would flirt with anything that walked. Steve, apparently, didn’t get that memo.

He was acting weird when he announced that you two had to get going—much earlier than you’d expected to, but you said your farewells and followed him out to his maroon BMW.

He hadn’t spoken a word to you since you’d both left and you couldn’t see his face well in the darkening light as evening begin to approach. The sun had already set and it was getting darker by the minute.

He was as tense as a bowstring.

“Steve, please—”

You were cut off with a startled yelp when he whipped the car into an abandoned, dark parking lot, stopping the car just a few feet from the street.

“Get in the backseat,” he ordered.

“What?”

You must’ve looked as bewildered as you felt because his head snapped in your direction. His next words held no hesitation.

“Get in the backseat so I can make you cum.”

You practically scampered to the backseat, Steve following you a moment later.

“He shouldn’t have been flirting with you,” he growled, diving for you.

His hands dived into your hair as he kissed you, hard.

That’s when it finally clicked. Steve was jealous.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t amused, but you were turned on as well.

His lips moved against yours heatedly and when the tip of his tongue brushed across the seam of your lips, you opened your mouth readily, teasing his tongue with your own. He growled into your mouth, his grip on your head tightening as he moved your head the way he wanted it so he could kiss the ever living fuck out of you.

Your hands gripped his biceps, squeezing slightly when he pulled away to nibble at your jaw. His gaze was hard on yours when he looked at you.

“Is Stevie a little jealous?” you taunted, leaning forward to catch his lips when he pulled back from you in your first attempt.

You made contact, teeth scraping his bottom lip.

“Fucking Munson,” he mumbled, capturing your lips against his as you became the one to tease him, “I think you need a little reminding just whose you are.”

“Remind me,” you purred, your lips sucking on a spot on his neck, moving your lips towards his ear, “I might’ve forgotten.”

He grunted, pushing you firmly into the corner of the backseat. Any uncomfortable sensations that may have been felt such as the awkwardness of the position was lost on you as his heated gaze focused on yours, pupils dilated and lips already redden and swollen from the short amount of heated kissing. There was a feral gleam in his eyes like he could ravage you right then and there.

You were more than willing to let him, too.

His thumb traced over your bottom lip and his eyes glazed as you pulled it into your mouth, sucking on it gently. He pulled it away, replacing his thumb with his mouth and he mumbled his next words against your mouth.

“These are mine,” he said, pressing his lips against yours as if to let you know he meant them.

They trailed downwards towards your neck, his hands gliding up towards your chest. You let out a surprised moan when he squeezed your breasts through your shirt.

“These are mine,” he repeated, leaving hot kisses down your neck.

You absolutely positive he could feel how hard your nipples were through the thin shirt and he proved you right, his palms rubbing over them, making you shudder.

His tongue licked an exposed portion of your neck, one hand sliding even further down your body. His mouth hovered so close to your ear now, you could feel his warm breath on it.

His hand dipped between your thighs, rubbing his palm over your throbbing pussy, through your pants. A pleading moan fell from your lips and you felt the heat shoot directly to your core when his rough, whispered words reached your ear.

“This is mine, too.”

He pressed a little harder, his palm putting just enough pressure against your clit that your hips started moving, trying your hardest to grind against his hand. Your hands flew to his belt buckle, trying to unbuckle it and get his pants off.

He moved his hand and kissed you again, only this time pressing his aching bulge into you. Your muscles clamped down on nothing, aching for him to fill you. Just the tiniest brush of him against your sensitive core had your pussy crying out for him in desperation.

He busied himself with pulling your pants down while his mouth continued to explore his—not even enough to pull all the way off, just enough to be out of the way and forgotten about for the time being. You rocked your hips, trying to feel the sweet friction of his hard on against you, needing the sensation more than one would need water in the desert.

“Steve, please,” you begged, legs opening wider, just wanting him where you needed him the most.

“Please what?”

The son of a bitch had the audacity to smirk. He had no business getting you all hot and riled up like this to not deliver and you let him know.

“Fuck me,” you gritted, “Remind me who I belong to.”

You heard the scrape of his zipper and the rustle of his jeans as he pushed them down far enough to pull his cock out, hard and ready for you. His fingers hooked into the fabric of your panties, roughly pulling it aside before sliding into you.

Angels might’ve sang.

You were already a moaning mess by the time he started thrusting into you, his velvety hard cock rubbing against you in all the right places. You grabbed him by the front of his shirt, roughly pulling him down to you so you could kiss him hard, but it soon became too difficult to, your moans and sighs taking over.

“Who fucks you this good? Not Munson is it?”

You shook your head, head thrown back against the window. It had landed with dull thud against the glass earlier, but you’d barely registered the pain.

He gripped your chin in his fingers, pulling your head so your gaze was on him.

“Who does?” he smirked.

“You,” you moaned.

“Damn right,” he gritted, glancing down at where your bodies connected, “Look, baby. Look what I do to you.”

You looked down, whining as you watched him where he repeatedly disappeared in you, the sight such a turn on, you felt yourself on the edge of falling into a deep pit of bliss.

Just when you were close to cumming, did he completely stop moving. He must’ve had way more self control than you did because you almost cried, the building sensation dissipating in an instant.

“Fuck, Steve, no,” you whined, circling your hips, desperate to bring the building orgasm back.

His hands still your hips, holding you down against the seat so hard it made everything even more hot. He didn’t pay attention to your whines, only shaking his head.

“You’re not cumming until you’ve learned your lesson, sweetheart,” he grinned wickedly.

He had pulled almost all the way out of you before slamming back in you with one quick snap of his hips. He pulled your leg up around his waist, angling his hips in a new direction that sent you spiraling to the building orgasm even faster than before.

His lips were hot on your neck and chest, sucking hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow and your hands tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough for him to moan against your skin.

Your body was overheating, feeling like a spark ready to burst into flame and you groaned in frustration, more than pissed off when he completely stopped a third time.

“Fuck you,” you breathed, no real menace in your words.

He just chuckled against your neck, making sure your bliss has subsided before starting up again.

“You already are, darling,” he drawled.

“Steve,” you cried, “Please.”

You weren’t above begging at this point. His body moved roughly against yours, thrusting as deep as he could in this position. You wouldn’t be surprised if the car was rocking at this point, he was practically ramming into you.

Your high was building as such an increased speed and strength, you knew you couldn’t last long. Your muscles clamped down on him like a steel glove and he moaned loudly, giving up the ghost and finally letting you reach your orgasm. He had held back long enough that he was ready to spill his load in you at any moment and he wanted you crashing down with him.

His pleasures grunts came from above you, his face contorted in pleasure, a few pieces of his dark hair swinging back and forth in rhythm with the rest of his body. You gripped at his back, nails digging into it, even through the polo he was still in.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he ground out, the tingling in his spine alerting him that he was moments from blowing.

He reached between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, trying to get you there faster.

“Tell me,” he repeated, eyes hard on yours, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

His thumb pressed harder and you nearly screeched, the intensity of your orgasm almost too much for you to handle.

“You,” you moaned.

You managed to get your next words out between a strangled moan.

“I’m yours.”

Your orgasm hit you with such strength that the you could only make breathy sounds, as you were sure your soul left your body for a moment.

“Fuck,” he cursed, completely losing it just seconds after you did.

You recovered before he did and you watched as his face shifted from contorted bliss to the relaxed post sex satiated expression. His thrusts had slowed as you both rode through the aftershocks of your highs before finally stilling, pulling out of you as he softened.

“God, I should make you jealous more often if you’re going to reward me like that,” you chuckled.

He’s shot you a wry grin as he got tucked back in and pants pulled back up.

“I’m sorry that I got so jealous,” he apologized, looking sheepish.

You were too worn to move and you waved a hand, brushing off his apology.

“After what you just did? I should be giving you a fucking award.”

He chuckled, pulling your underwear back into place, giving your pussy an endearing pat. You winced, the touch still too much for how sensitive you currently were and he just smirked, proud he’d made you that way.

You lifted your hips as he pulled your pants back up, placing a sweet, gentle kiss on your hip.

“Steve?” you said.

“Hmm?” he looked up at you, making his way back to where he hovered over your face.

“You know you have nothing to worry about, right? I’m yours,” you smiled softly, “I’ll always be yours.”

Then he took your chin in his hand and pulled your face toward his. He gave you the sweetest kiss as if you hadn’t just had the hottest car sex, ever.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things smut

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 4 months

Note

heyyy! I saw you are writing for the balsas of songbirds and snakes? Can you do Coriolanus x reader!fem, you can CHOOSE the plot, and can you make it a little long???

This was a bit difficult to get to since I had no clue what to write 😭 Don’t worry though, I kinda liked this creative freedom

Coriolanus Snow x Fem! Reader (romantic)

I did have reader take the place of Lucy Gray. Instead of singing, reader is picking nearby flowers or something silly idk

Summary: Coriolanus is off in District Twelve and goes off to find the reader within the district.

The sun pelted down on Coriolanus' pale skin; the softness of his clean skin grew sticky with sweat. The sky held no clouds, just blue. His clothes grew uncomfortable as he made his way through District Twelve.

Coriolanus had walked around town for several minutes, maybe thirty, forty? He had almost grown tired. But he continued, hoping to find a place called "the seam", or whatever the people of District Twelve called area.

The dirt on the ground had grown from a deep brown to a vibrant dry brown, the water sucked from the ground by the sun beating down on it. Sweat slowly dripped down from Coriolanus' forehead. Oh, how he wanted to give up. But the idea of finding his pretty victor drew him deeper into the town.

Coriolanus' eyes drew wide as he looked around the township, looking at the decrepit houses that drew worse looker the farther he went from the town square. The red brick buildings within the town square slowly turned to greying metal or cement housing, vines crawling up the side of the houses.

Several people were outside their homes, cleaning their porches or picking at the plants just below the shingles of house. Coriolanus glanced from each of the homes, watching the children near their homes run with each other. He turned his head away and continued down the road, his head held high, remembering what he was truly walking these disgusting streets for.

Coriolanus finally stopped in front of a home, a grey home that looked similar to the others around it. But what was different was the people standing in their backyard.

A short, blonde girl kneeled over a short green plant, plucking the vibrantly red strawberries from their stems with a sharp pull. The sound of a soft ‘thud’ made Coriolanus realize there was a small brown basket near her feet. Occasionally, she would take the fruits from their stems and eat them, turning away to not get caught by a dark-haired girl nearby.

Coriolanus cleared his throat before calling out to the dark-haired gal. "Hello! Can I speak with you quick?" The girl looked up to him before looking to the blonde girl, saying something, then walking to him.

"May I help you?" She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. He couldn't help thinking she was only being nice because he obviously looked like a peacekeeper.

"Yes, you can. I was looking for (Y/n). I was told by my friend she lived here or nearby," Coriolanus replied. He glanced at the blonde girl near the strawberries, who stared at him too. The dark-haired girl raised her brow and nodded.

"Yes, she does. She's not here right now." The dark-haired girl remarked. The blonde girl behind her picked up the basket with a huff, hauling it onto her arm, in the curve of her elbow.

"Who're you looking for?" The blonde asked, looking him up and down. Coriolanus turned to her and smiled, hoping to seem friendlier so they don't think he's there for something else.

"Maude Ivory, I can handle this myself. Now go put the strawberries in the house," the dark-haired girl muttered. The girl named Maude Ivory gave her a quick look, almost determined before turning back to Coriolanus.

"Who are you looking for?" Maude Ivory asked again.

"(Y/n). I've been meaning to see her," Coriolanus answered.

"(Y/n)? She's out in the field." She smiled at him. "She didn't say she was expecting visitors." Maude Ivory said to the dark-haired girl then turned to the house.

The girl glances at Maude Ivory as she walks towards their home then turns back to him. "(Y/n)'s in the field just down the road. The road stops going after a bit but there's a big tree near the clearing, the field really, that she likes. You'll find her there."

Coriolanus nods and thanks her quickly before making his way down the road. He looked over his shoulder and saw the lady huff a sigh of relief at him not being there for other reasons. But he couldn't care about what they could be so worrisome about, he was too busy thinking about you.

He followed the path to the best of his abilities, trying to go to where the gal had told him to. Down the road until it ended and to a tree in the clearing. It was a pretty sight, the green and brown of the trees degrading into the sun yellow of the grass.

Nonetheless, he pursued into the tall plants. And the dark-haired girl was right, the clearing led to a tree overlooking the rest of the field. As he walked over the tall grass around him, he tried looking for you.

And he was so happy when he finally saw you, sitting below the branches of the tree, picking the yellowing flowers around you.

His eyes almost stared daggers into your back, but not in a negative way. It was in a way he meant he could stare at you forever and ever. Your skin was not covered in blood and dirt, it was clean and unbruised. It was almost odd to see, it was like you were an entirely different person, not the one he had mentored during the Games or the person he had kept safe in the arena.

The weeks he had been training and not looking for you properly had done you good, your skin was now unscathed, the cuts you sustained in the arena now were only (nearly) invisible scars. You must have gotten all pretty for him, just in case he found you again.

Coriolanus couldn't deny, you looked beautiful. You were like a vibrant flower amongst wilted ones, vibrant and fresh, unlike the rest of your district. You may have looked beautiful, sitting alone in a field, but you would have looked more beautiful in his arms. You used to be his tribute, but you were now his girl. His.

He couldn't help but question if you would recognize him. His hair was buzzed, and he did not wear the clothes he used to wear. Coriolanus was not the same as he was before, physically at least. But he hoped you adored him as much as you had before.

The yellowing green grass stood tall in the flowing wind, shining bright in the yellow sun. The grass slowly drew to white then yellowing, fresh dandelions. The plants below Coriolanus' feet made a rustling sound. His boot was brought town in a lazy yet harsh way, putting more weight into the step. The sudden sound of rustling grass caused you to jolt in the direction of the sound.

Neither you nor Coriolanus said a word as you stared; the silence was only halted by the wind in the grass. He stood under the tree, the shade falling over his face, over his eyes, and hiding the odd feelings he felt when he saw you. Maybe it was love or adoration, or something else he didn't think was important. But he couldn't tell which he felt, and he didn't care.

"I'm sorry, every sound scares me ever since I've left the arena," you say suddenly. Sitting down your basket, you stand to greet him. Smoothing out your clothes, you gazed at him, slowly stepping closer to him. "Why are you here? How'd you get here?"

The suddenness of the question made Coriolanus think of how embarrassed he felt when he remembered getting caught by Dr Gaul and Dean Highbottom. God, he wanted to forget that moment once and for all.

"I did some things I shouldn't have for you to win. I messed with the Games a little too much." Coriolanus said, hoping to lighten the mood. You didn't smile but nodded in understanding.

"You killed that boy, Bobbin, right? I remember seeing Coral going after you when you were in the arena too," you remarked. You didn't say anything again, expecting a direct answer.

"It was the only thing I could do; he would have killed me if I hadn't." Coriolanus returned, hoping you would understand his murder. He didn't need to kill Bobbin; he was weak, and Coriolanus had hit him several times. But that odd feeling he felt when he raised his arm again to strike Bobbin, he couldn't help it. Coriolanus couldn't help liking it.

You gaze at him for several seconds, then nod and walk closer. Your hands were close to your body. "Coriolanus, I don't want you seeing me differently because of what I had to do in that arena," you mutter and purse your lips. "I don't view you differently for what you had to do."

He couldn't stand the idea of seeing you differently, he wouldn't be able to. You were still the kind girl he had spoken to in the monkey house, and you were the same kind girl he was looking at now. There wasn't anything different about you, except for the fact you were better fed and weren't dirty unlike how you were in the Capital.

"I don't see you differently. You haven't changed at all." Coriolanus spoke, peering at you, his eyes harder than he would prefer. "You're still you, even if you hurt a couple people. I hurt people too, but you don't see me differently."

Staring at him, you walked closer until the tip of your boots touch his. Your face was soft as you looked up at his lips and into his eyes. Coriolanus stared at you just as much, maybe more than you did. But he didn't care. You were beautiful and he couldn't help thinking of how willing you were to get closer to him.

Coriolanus adored the closeness, it felt awkward, but he liked it, nonetheless. Seeing so much of you, the small details of your skin and the intricacies of your eyes were so much for him. He couldn't stop the feeling of warmth from flooding his face.

"You promise? Nothing will change." You mutter and look into his eyes. Coriolanus pursed his lips and nodded. His hand crept closer to yours, his fingers slowly intertwined with yours.

"I promise, nothing will change. You aren't the person you were in the arena. None of the things you did will hurt you now. You did what you must." He stated with a small harshness in his voice. Maybe it was your willingness to believe Coriolanus wouldn't see you the same when you were exactly how you were before. You were still kind and beautiful, but the one thing you weren't before was his girl, romantically, at least.

Silence followed his statement; you didn't know what else to say. Maybe you could smile and thank him or say something kind back to him. But Coriolanus already chose for you. His hand pulled yours just enough to pull you into him. His hand moved up your arm and to your face, holding you softly in his hands.

You looked delicate in his grasp; the skin of your face was soft against his callused hands. Your eyes were so soft too, it was like you were asking to get a kiss from him. He'd hope he'd give you a better kiss than he did back in the Capital.

Coriolanus' movement was swift, he didn't need to hesitate, he knew what he wanted. His, slightly bruised, lips pressed against your delicate ones. You were obviously caught off guard by the feeling, but you accepted it quickly, pressing against him too.

His grasp was tight on your hands, holding them against his chest, hoping to keep you close. He needed to kiss you more. The split on his lip nearly opened as he pressed harder against your lips.

You had to pull away at some point, needing to breath was pretty important. But Coriolanus didn't want to pull away, something ate at him. If you allowed him, he would do so much more.

So sorry this took so long omg.

My tbosas masterlist

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saigawrites · 10 months

Text

My dear gelatin orb pet,

Seelie! Genshin x Platonic! Gn! Reader

Inazuma edition

Tags : crack, fluff, scenarios, headcanons

Warninigs : mentions of stalking, animal attack

Summary : you took home a strange creature that looked nothing like anything in your world. So you somehow try to live and be friends with the peculiar pet of yours.

A strange flying orb is now basking in your presence, observing you attentively. Uneasiness filled your entire being as you were stared down at, so you attempted to break the suffocating atmosphere by talking to the orbit. Minutes pass, and there is no reaction whatsoever, until the little thing flies off somewhere, only to return with a torn off paper sheet and a pencil in their tiny nubs.

Heizou ♥︎

"Hey~! I am Heizou, the great detective of Inazuma! It sure was a dream of mine to one day meet someone as odd as you! I hope we can get along with each other, even with our different physical traits. I was wondering, could I please make a psychological study with you? I want to know if there's any more oddities about you, especially your mind!"

Okay, why is this period blood blob trying to attempt psychological experiments with you now? You just met, and he's already looking through your soul 🧐.

You might suck at geography but you never heard anything about the so called 'Inazuma'. Wait, so he's an alien?

That theory have already explained why he was so interested in your psychology, and honestly, you were kind of scared of him after the realization.

But it was still hard to feel threatened by an dark red floating circle with a little bouncing antenna. Maybe he used that to communicate with his species?

You weren't familiar with the behavior of different creatures from another planets, but you discovered that these one seemed to be extra clingy.

He floats after you everywhere, always watching with the most attentive gaze, looking out for any type of quirks you might have. You became all the more aware of him, secretly staring at him with your peripheral vision so that he couldn't try anything funny🤨.

He would startle you a lot, annoying you and scaring you on purpose. He LOVES your reactions, whether it would be you losing your temper and tossing him around like a basketball, or you screaming at the top of your lungs when you feel something slimy wiggle under your shirt.

You're lucky that he doesn't do that all the time. Surprisingly, the cherry colored orb has his own business to do, which is just as strange as his appearance. He likes to go out, watch and stalk random people on the street. You found out when you caught him red-handed in the act, hiding behind a bush and looking at all the people passing by.

You tried to scold him, tell him that it's dangerous to go around for him like that, but to no avail, he would always nod in confirmation and then do the same thing on the next day.

So you decided to find him a hobby, something that would distract him long enough from harassing strangers on the streets. And that is, television. News channels in particular.

It was completely accidental when you found out about his interest. You were extra bored, and decided to finally watch the TV in like a decade. Soon you found your crimson red companion levitating in the hall, glancing at the TV and back to you a few times before flying to your side and nuzzling in your lap, making himself comfortable in your warm hoodie. Petting his tiny body, you both took in the situations happening all around the world.

Arataki Itto ♡

"HEY THERE!!! IM THE FAMOUS ARATAKI ITTO!! THE LEDER OF THE ARATAKI GANG!!! ITS NICE TO MEET YOU!!! WHATS YOUR NAME? LETS BE FRIENDS!! YOU LOOK SO COOL!!!! DO YOU WANT TO JOIN MY GANG?"

Woah, that's one... energetic light bulb. Bouncing on your office table cheerily while his long vertical horns wobble a bit, he squeaks excitedly as if he just found out he won a lottery. Well, he kinda did though, if you're the one to take care of him.

At least that's what he thinks, as your demonstration of desiring to bathe him from all the dirt and dust he somehow gathered gave him all the right signals.

Even if he splashed and spilled all the water onto you, and wiggled and squeaked under the turned on faucet like an over-energized parrot, still, you would rub his soapy circular body with care, patting him with the softest towel of yours that he was sure you were the fittest blob-parent of all.

Did I mention parrots? He is one. An even more chaotic one. You have to hold him with your most strong grasp from him speeding across your house like a flash, bouncing off walls, ceiling and the floor like a deflated balloon. You always have to scold him like a concerned parent about how his form is not exactly unbreakable, and he still needs to be careful with surroundings.

And that escalated into him finding your bed as the best trampoline he can access. You want to stop him and tell him that he's going to break the carcass if he continues, but you just can't resist the sight of a palm sized jelly ball jumping on your bed gleefully, ridiculously rotating in the air as he lets happy sounds escape his nonexistent vocal cords.

Sometimes you would curse the universe for making your circle companion this cute, because he sure can cause a lot of trouble. Almost getting mauled by the neighbors dog because he wanted to pet it two days ago and almost breaking all of your glass dishes because he wanted to help you make the table yesterday. Oh boy, I'm sure excited for what's in store for the future😀.

Though, it was what you should've expected from a supposed gang leader. He even invited you to be a member of this band of his, remember?

You do agree now with all those shoujo mangas where the gangsta would actually be a softie inside, because your glowing orange ball friend sure is, no matter how destructive he acts.

Yae miko ♥︎

"My, my... such a interesting creature you are! It is sure a blessing for me to be in your presence, another amusing humanoid~. I am the Guuji of the Grand Narukami shrine, Yae Miko. I am also the owner of the Yae publishing house. As a grandee of the kitsune clan, it is a pleasure of mine to be familiar with such a high being like you. I am in your care from now on, my dear~"

WHAT IS THIS LIGHT PINK DOWNTURNED FOX EARS GAS FILLED BALLOON ON🗣🙌💯🔥🔥

On all seriousness though, you tried your hardest to understand atleast half of what she wrote, but so far what you seemed to catch is that she's nowhere near an earth creature. Oh and her name is Yae Miko.

Confusedly glancing at her then at her message, your nerve cells steamed as they tried to figure out what type of emotions you should be feeling in this case. The guuji seemed to be quite entertained by your puzzled face and somewhat judging side eye.

Her actions make you no less confused, as you question why would she harshly tug on your clothes at the most randomest times of the day. Out of nowhere, the pink squishy orb would just sail in the air over to you, and then pinch a spot on your clothed body and pull it with an incomprehensible strength.

Which leads you to chasing her, speeding up after her oddly fast self. With groans and screams you would finally catch up to her and squeeze her annoying ass to smitherins☠.

If you don't react to her antics, she'll keep being even more of an ass and pinch on your skin, hard. So far atleast half of your body now itches and pulsates because of your flying jelly companion.

Other than annoying you, the cherry blossom blob with ears likes to do research. Literally on anything. It ranges from politics, history, culture to bitcoin, nfts and all of the other shady stuff. She doesn't take half of the happening seriously, finding the stupidity of your kind ridiculous.

Oh, and she is going to shove it in your face. Always giggling when you two would watch an educational video on some topic, as if making fun of you. When she would write her opinion on your communication notebook she would always leave a snide remark like "the absurd that your kind ensues never ceases to humour me" or some shit.

She really just makes fun of your whole existence as if she's superior in any way. You do your best to hold yourself and not slap her into the oblivion. Oh, but she knows you would never do that. She knows.

Kokomi ♡

“I, Sangonomiya Kokomi, want to greatly express my gratitude towards your actions, human-like creature with a pure soul. Your kindness will always be remembered and appreciated in my heart. Now, as you read this, I shall, as the grand seigneur of Watatsumi affairs, be taken care of by you, as you are in capability to do so. I am one of the descendants of the Sangonomiya clan, and my full form being taken away from me is a major cause of danger for me. I hope you understand my demands, and I hope you will comply with them.”

A lot of confusing words and hard to spell names didn’t stop you from looking at her with puppy eyes and an ‘aww’ escaping your lips. Even though her tone might sounded a bit bossy near the end, your inner mother instincts still kicked in and your heart swore to protect the light globule that looked at you with anticipation.

Her colour pallet reminded you of aqua monsters, something along the lines of mermaids, sirens, and the similar. And you kinda guessed it, since the way your pink and ocean blue pearl like friend gravitated towards water was as if a magnetic pull was in between them.

The funniest thing is that at the first few days she didn’t even know you had water in your house. Modern furniture confused her senses and for a while she thought your biology didn’t require water.

Until one day you came particularly tired home, and the only thing in your mind was the thought of running a warm calming bath with the aroma of your sweet candles. Not noticing your dwarf merblob levitating right after you and watching you turn on the bath faucet, made you jump in your place when she plopped herself in the filling water.

You were about to groan and ask her to get out, up until your gaze fell on the itty-bitty joyous expression that she demonstrated while floating in the lukewarm liquid. With a snort, a small smile followed along with a defeated look. Letting the spheroid bathe instead of you, you contemplated about her otherworldliness.

It all escalated into a degree where she would spend almost all of her time in your bathroom, swimming in your bathtub hours on end. On your knees, with pleas and begging, you would query her to get out of the pear shaped tank, but to no avail, the deep sea creature would just ignore your whines and continue flowing around in the water.

“Komi please, I haven’t bathed in a decade.”

“Splash. Blub blub blub.”

And there she goes again, making bubbles and blowing them at your face as a response. Even so, you still let the marine pearl have her way, as she’s way too adorable to be mad at.

Kazuha ♥︎

“Come driving rain or winds that churn, I shall return, by blade alone, armed, if barefoot, to my home... I am Kaedehara Kazuha, a wanderer who roams the land. Fate alone has destined us to meet, thus it is a great gift for us to be able to communicate, distinctive individual. May I put a question to your origins, your story, and your name?”

What is he, a poet of some sorts? Such a distinguished gentleman, saying such extravagant things, but looking so ridiculous it could kill a person.

Guessing was probably your only best talent, as this japanese flag jello was immaculately successful at using all of the paper and stationary that he could find in your house to make his pieces of art.

Or the “haikus” as he calls them. Paper scrolls all over any hard surface, fully scribbled over with elegant handwriting. You wonder how the heck can a round strawberry marshmallow with nibs instead of hands write so much and also write prettier than you could ever manage.

Reading through those is one embarrassing of a trip as more than 70% of the writings are about you. The other 30% are about the environment, the furniture, the nature, the textures and sometimes about his homeland as you assumed.

And no you definitely didn’t bawl your eyes out while reading those and no you certainly didn’t feel sorry for the tiny little guy and no you for sure didn’t hug him in the most gentlest way and promise him that you’ll somehow get him back, no, beyond any doubt that didn’t happen.

On another note, this guy was unquestionably the cause of your literature grades significantly improving. Both you and your teacher are raising a brow at how good you instantaneously became at writing essays and other in the sorts. You even caught yourself in the act of speaking flowery, as if your 18th century self out of the blue found themselves in the modern world.

And that’s all thanks to Kazuha, and his litres of poetry inside your house. What’s outside your house though, is his music. Yea, turns out your spherical friend is talented in tunes too.

On one particular morning when you two were in a public garden, choosing an outlying area to have your picnic in, you came across a eerily wholesome phenomenon.

Holding a tree leaf in his itty-bitty arms, he seemed to be performing a tune with the help of the frond. You stared at your pal in awe, mouth wide open as a beautiful melody rang through your ears.

When your homeboy finished his little concert you couldn’t help but clap gleefully and throw wows at his excellent performance. Just how lucky were you to befriend such a talented jelly orb.

ARGGFDDDDGJSFICGGV IM SORRY FOR BEOMG SOOOO SLOW😭😵😰😓 I’m currently in a middle of a whole makeover of my house so it’s kinda unmotivating for me to do literally anything but no worries, your homegirl will always find a way to deliver🔥🔥🔥🔥

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royculkins · 3 months

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the universal curse of sensitivity — igby slocumb (Final Part)

part five: let the light in

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Igby Slocumb x reader

Warnings: Drug use, underage nicotine use, neglectful parents, explicit language, adults messing around with kids when they shouldn't, and anything else that can be found in the movie Igby Goes Down

Summary: Troublesome kids will always reach to find love and acceptance, even if it means making a mess where it's unintended. They’re just kids, but the older they get, the worse their inner conflicts haunt them. They want to please, but long to be pleased. They’re dramatic and self-sabotaging, they can’t help it⸺its the universal curse of their sensitivity.

Tag List: @gaysludge @wsrizz @confusedoatmeal @b1mb0slvt @slvttyclementine @he4vens-ang3l @alexiagx @moosh-i

Authors Note: It's crazy to think this is the end, but I'm so happy with how it turned out! My inspiration for this chapter was, of course, Let the Light In by Lana Del Rey and Work Song by Hozier. I hope you enjoy it! I love y'all so much!

4.6k words

The stars that hung in the sky on the night you spent with Igby would tell the tale of true warmth and delicate feelings for the rest of their burning lives. Echoing the comforting words the two of you shared. Encapsulating every touch, hug, and graze of fingertips against skin. They’d speak of the screaming color that wrapped itself around the two of your colorless lives while trying to recount the secret language of your understanding of one another.

And even if they could remember every intricate detail of that night⸺it still wouldn’t serve justice to how powerful the night truly was for you both.

That night replayed in your heads for days later, you didn’t speak about the looming presence of his family or your secret that could destroy the last lingering connection you had to your own. Instead, you held onto each other, words of comfort falling past lips and promising potential future harmony to each other. You had fallen asleep tangled in each other's presence and promises, letting reality slip away from your grasp as you soaked in the golden moment between the two of you.

However, reality would make itself apparent again. It had to⸺Igby, and you had known that from the moment he arrived at your apartment that night. But it didn’t make this day any easier.

The cold chill that had once been present in New York had allowed the graces of a warmer day to make itself known, the sun dancing across the sky with a watchful gaze. Igby glanced at it as he walked the familiar path to your apartment; his movements were more dreadful and slow than they had previously been. A part of him cursed this day away; he once wished for a warm day in this cold city, and he hated the irony that was a warm evening in this damnest of times.

He paused when your building came into his view, his eyes trained on the very window he first saw you. The memory of your body being haloed by the sun and your teasing voice irking his soul as you purposely called him the wrong name. He found you annoying and never imagined a world where your voice would become his beacon of light and liveliness.

Letting his hazel eyes rise up to where you two had shared countless joints and stared down at the passing people below, his eyes met your figure, and he had half a mind to turn around and forget what he had to do. Or he could join you and refuse to let reality capture him and swallow him whole. He wasn’t sure⸺he just knew he didn’t want to do this.

Any thought of running was banished from his mind as you leaned against the brick railing of your roof, looking down at his body that stood across the street. You tilt your head, watching the boy stand frozen in the middle of a frenzy of moving bodies. Even at a distance, even with many people standing between you, it somehow felt like it was just the two of you as your eyes locked on one another. Sucking in a breath, Igby drifted across the street toward your apartment as if he was a moth to a flame, unable to think of anything but getting to you and enjoying the burn of your light.

Pushing open the door to the roof, his eyes take only seconds to find you. Your body is in the exact place it was the first time you had invited him up to the roof. Your legs dangling on each side of the building as you turn to look at him, a small smile growing on your face. Igby takes this moment to let this image of you burn into his memory forever, the sun grazing against your features and your smile directed only toward him. Even though he dreads his future words, your smile feels so welcoming that he begins to form one of his own. Your impact on him showing clearly as he allows the warmth of the day to finally touch his own skin without cursing it away.

Approaching you slowly, he leans his body against the space just beside you⸺just as he had the first time and every time after. You watch as he stares at the people passing below, his eyes conflicted as his mouth twitches. You knew the day would come and that he’d dread it, but you couldn’t help but feel honored that he had come to see you one last time. There was a tiny amount of fear in you that he’d just leave⸺take off, running away from his family or returning to them without saying goodbye. Yet here he stood, needing you more than anything before he made his final decision.

Igby once believed that poverty was the only thing keeping him in New York, in that ratty apartment and this cold city. Yet as he stood there, he realized that now the only reason he’d ever want to stay⸺was for you.

He realized that every moment with you was warm; every time you looked at him, he could see the golden light he had always craved. Maybe he didn’t need to go somewhere new, maybe you were enough to save and free him from the icy curse of his family. He wasn’t sure how he was going to say goodbye to you⸺or if he’d even be able to.

“You decided to go home?”

Igby’s face screwed up at the term. He hadn’t called the house where his family lived home in a long time. He couldn’t even be able to recall the last time he even referred to it as such. Tearing his gaze away from the people on the sidewalk, Igby glanced at you before picking at the scarf he still had wrapped around his neck, “Got to make sure my mother actually croaks this time around.”

You don’t respond to his crude statement, you just continue to watch him struggle internally with the war in his head. Leaning forward, you catch his eyes and place your hand over the one that pulled relentlessly at a string on his clothing, “Are you going to be okay?”

He blinks fast at the question, still unfamiliar with the affection and genuinity of your voice. Suddenly, his decision to return to his mother's side doesn’t make any sense. Why would he ever return to such a horrid situation when someone as gentle as you existed? How was he supposed to leave you behind? Maybe he didn’t have to, “We should leave.”

Your eyebrows raise at his quickened words, his eyes turning to yours pleadingly as he continued almost frantically, “You and me. We can pack our bags and leave New York. It can just be us; we won’t have to worry about anything else.”

“Igby-.” You whisper, but the boy can’t stop as the words push past his lips. His fear of being in the same room as his mother and brother only increased his reasons for fleeing⸺except now he couldn’t do it unless you joined him. Shaking his head, the brunette stumbles over his words, “My family doesn’t care about me, and yours—yours keeps you locked away in this apartment! We could just leave and go and be happy without their constant weight! We could—We could–.”

The boy worked himself up so much that he resorted to pacing before you, causing you to remove yourself from the roof's edge to grab the boy's hands and keep him in place. He stops his rambling to look at your calm eyes.

“You know I can’t do that, Igby,” You whisper softly, searching his eyes to ensure that your words don’t come off as a rejection and instead a retelling of your familial situation. Truthfully, you would love to join the boy on his adventures, yet the pull of being the perfect child for your parents was too haunting and embedded for you to leave behind.

Scoffing, the boy shakes his head, not accepting the reasoning for your words. Your name falls from his lips in an exasperated tone as he speaks again, “Can’t you see that your parents are never going to let you out of here? They’re going to keep you locked away in this prison for the rest of your life, and you’re just letting them!”

“Igby-.”

“No! They have you! They already have you here! What makes you think they won’t have you locked away for the rest of your life? You need to get out of here, even if it’s not with me! Either way, I just–I just need you to get away from here, away from them,” The boy rants with frustration rising over your current issue, the truth of his feelings about it coming to light.

Sighing lightly, you can’t help but understand his words and his fears about your parent's future plans for you. You had thought about it many times before, yet you had already decided on these thoughts long before you met Igby. Now, your only concern was making sure the boy before you would be okay and escape in ways you’ve never been able to. Bringing a hand up to hold his jaw, his hazel eyes burn as they meet yours, listening carefully to every word that leaves your mouth, “With what money, Igby? How could either one of us live a life without money? Would we just share a couch and sell drugs around the city for Russel? Is that really what you want?”

Igby shook his head and looked down at his feet. He didn’t know how he’d get the money, he just knew he wanted to be with you. Closing his eyes, the boy knew that he had to return home if he wanted to escape life as a couch-surfing drug delivery boy. Taking a deep breath, he grabs your wrist gently and looks back up at you, “I can go back to my family, get the money, and come back for you. I can come back, and we can go anywhere we want. Just the two of us.”

A part of you wants to accept his offer, but you remember every story he told about this very moment. The moment that he had enough money to be happy and alone, you knew that it would be selfish to piggyback off his escape and claim it as your own. You just can’t do it to him, so you decline his offer again, “You’re going to go to your family, see your mom away, get your money, and then you’re going to be free. Without me.”

Igby shakes his head, his eyes closing in pain as his head drops, but you’re quick to pick it back up. His eyes are misty as he looks to you again, “Please.”

Your heart aches at his pleas, but you know he needed this. He needed to find himself without looking over his shoulder for his family or carrying you, “You have to get out of this city, away from your family. You have to be free and live without anything holding you back or causing any distractions. I need you to do that. I need you to let the light in, Igby. Please, if you do anything for me, I need it to be that.”

The Slocumb boy searches your eyes for any cracks in your words, but you mean every word. It hits Igby that you’re the only person who ever wanted him to do something for himself instead of moving in a way to please someone else. Letting his fingers rub up and down your arms, he stares deeply into your eyes as he admits in a whisper, “I think you’re the only real friend I’ve ever had.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you smile at the boy, “I think you’re mine as well.”

The two of you sit silently at your confession, knowing that what the two of you felt was something much deeper than friendship, yet it didn’t mean that the hushed words weren’t true. However, Igby can’t refrain himself as his hands cup your face and his lips connect to yours softly. Warmth and comfort wash over the two of you as your bodies press against each other in a gentle action of intimacy. Pulling away slowly, your foreheads lean against one another, and the boy raises his thumbs slightly to caress your cheek. You offer him a smile, which he returns before you whisper, “I’ll be expecting a postcard.”

Laughing lightly and shaking his head at your callback to his previous words, he breathes out, “I’ll send you a whole damn plane.”

You don’t respond; you can only lift your head to place a gentle kiss on the boy's mole that sits perfectly on his cheek. His eyes close at the action, his body filling with gratitude and solace at your small yet impactful action. The two of you know that this won’t be the last time you see each other, not when the longing feeling to return home to one another was deep in your marrow. Maybe that was why Igby was able to pull his body away from yours and return to his own haunted house a few cities away, but not before leaving his scarf wrapped around the door handle of your apartment door on his way out. Something to remember him by, something to remember that escape was possible and that he’d always come back if you so much as thought of it.

It would be almost a week until you’d hear from the boy again. You’d be in your apartment, trying to return to how life was before Igby. It was proven to be a much harder task than anticipated. You had resorted to pacing the floor, chewing on your nails as you wondered and worried about the boy who ignited a fire within your soul. You could only hope that he had made it there, followed through with his plan, and escaped his life of running and hiding.

Your windows were cracked open, letting the warm breeze whisk away the smoke of your cigarette as you sat on your window seal. Flicking the ashes out the window, your eyes look curiously at the outside world. You had fallen back into the habit of people-watching as boredom filled your life at the lack of visits from a certain delivery boy.

It was the sound of ringing that pulled you from your thoughts. Stabbing your cigarette into the ashtray, you glide toward the noise and place the phone to your ear, “Hello?”

It’s silent on the other side of the phone for just a moment before a familiar voice rings out, “Hi, this is Jason Slocumb Junior.”

You can’t ignore the jump of your heart at the boy's voice that you could admit you were already missing. Furrowing your eyebrows, you smile humorously at the boy before speaking, “Your name is Jason?”

Igby hummed on the other side of the phone, glancing toward Oliver, who was watching him make his half of the calls. Smiling sarcastically to ensure that his brother didn’t know he was calling you, the boy continued without answering your question, “I just called to inform you that Mimi Slocumb won’t be answering any further invitations because she’s dead.”

The Slocumb boy waited for your response, hoping that you’d be selfish and ask for him to return to get you before fleeing. All you had to do was say the words, even just suggest it, and he’d come to you. No questions asked. No hesitation. However, you smiled to yourself and spoke warmly, “Go ahead and let the light in, Igby. I’ll be seeing you.”

The two of you sit silently for a prolonged moment, the boy relishing in your voice and promise, feeling comfort for the first time in days. Closing his eyes briefly, the boy pretends you are beside him with your beautiful smile and encouraging nods. A ghosting smile crosses his features before he hangs up the phone, not wanting his brother to know he still has you to keep promises with.

From your kitchen, you’d listen to the static sound of the dial tone before placing the phone back down with a small smile. Even though so much of you wanted him to return, you felt joyous over the fact that the boy was finally free from everything he had spent so long running from. You knew that your words were true. You would be seeing him, just not as soon as you’d hoped.

The next time you heard from Igby, it came in the form of mail.

Your tutor had entered your apartment, books and notes in hand, along with the mail the doorman had handed her when she passed. Setting up your workspace, she gives you the pile of envelopes, magazines, and newspapers, allowing you a moment to sift through them boredly. However, your attention perks as your fingertips graze the side of a single piece of thin cardboard.

GREETINGS FROM CALIFORNIA! THE GOLDEN STATE.

Looking over your shoulder, you excuse yourself from the dining room to the comfort and isolation of your room. Sitting on your bed, you place the other worthless mail beside you and cling to the most valuable object. Running your fingers over the enlarged font, you take a deep breath before flipping it over. Your heart leaped at the familiar handwriting that was scribbled on the back. At the top, your name was written clearly and sincerely, just as Igby remembered you. The only thing written on it was a new address, as well as a plane messily drawn near the bottom with a note below it.

Until I can send the real thing. -Igby

Smiling at the written promise, you bring the small piece of him you had to your chest⸺hugging what meant the most to you close to your heart. Taking a deep breath, you stand from your bed and place the postcard on your vanity where you can always see it. It becomes clear that out of every expensive piece of furniture and knick-knacks you had, this twenty-five cent piece of cardboard held the most value.

That would continue to ring true, except as the months went on, Igby would continue to write to you. His letters filled with what life in California was like; he’d write of the sun and the warmth, but he’d never admit that it didn’t compare to the warmth you had offered him. It wasn’t even close. It would beg to be written, but it would never reach the paper, the boy fearing that his confession would confirm how much distance there was between you. So, instead, he’d settle with leaving constant reminders that he’d return to get you and help you escape your parents' isolated prison. Your letters would contain what the weather was like in New York, as well as telling the boy that Russel had taken to delivering the drugs himself. The drug dealer not wanting for you to be left alone⸺he couldn’t do that to the tragic muse of his work. You’d sign off every letter with the same promise of seeing him when the time came. Eighteen was closer than it seemed. It had to be. It was a reminder you would write to him in hopes of reassuring yourself.

However, the shared fear of you and Igby would come true. Your parents would decide that letting you go at eighteen isn’t what’s for the best. They would continue to hold you hostage in the apartment, now sending in professionals to prepare you to work for your family company one day. Your once promising letters turned to ones full of misery and doubt. Igby’s remained optimistic, even going as far as offering to return to New York and bring you back to California with him. He knew you wouldn’t do it because, as he had told you on the rooftop the last time you saw each other, your parents' claws were too deep in you. They were too embedded for you to remove them without fatality. Yet, he needed you to know that his promise would always remain. He’d always hold you and the unbroken promise sacred.

Years would pass, yet Igby’s letters never slowed, and you kept every single one of them. There were occasions when the two of you would call one another, but timezones and your parents' distractions caused them to come to a predictable decline. On your twentieth birthday, you broke your own heart⸺sending him a letter of apologies and regret. You felt as though you were holding the boy back from living his life fully. It wasn’t fair of you to make him wait for you. It wasn’t fair for him to be free yet still be tied down by someone who couldn’t share that experience with him. So you offered him an out, telling him that he didn’t need to check up on you or keep your promise because your devotion to your parents had been controlling you and remained unmoving.

In return, Igby sent you the shortest letter he had ever sent to you. There was no talk about California, its weather, its glowing sun, or the new activities he had clung to within the time he received your last letter. It was just a piece of paper with three sentences scribbled on it.

My life here will never be complete until you’re here with me. I’ll wait for the rest of my life if I have to. I know I’ll be seeing you again. -Igby

These three sentences would sit with you for nearly a year. The letter would remain with you at all times, serving as a reminder that even when you’ve given up on yourself, there was someone out there who loved you enough to wait a lifetime. You’d read it once, twice, even three times a day. Letting his words ignite a bright and burning fire in your soul. Finally, on a random Wednesday evening, the fire would burn away the leash that your parents had you locked in. You had saved more than enough money on your own to live comfortably for years and enough experience to find a job elsewhere. So without warning, without so much as a notice, you walked away from your family's company, returned to the familiar apartment, packed your things, grabbed every single letter and postcard Igby had sent you, and left this life of despair behind. Not feeling an ounce of loyalty to return or shame to cower away from this moment.

After almost twenty-one years of begging and pleading for love from your parents, you finally walked away and toward the golden affection and tenderness that awaited your arrival on the other side of the country.

Igby never stopped thinking about you, wishing upon shooting stars and fallen eyelashes that you’d one day have the courage to cut the ties of your enclosure. He’d imagined on countless nights that you would call him or send him a letter that revealed that you were finally free. His mind would only ease itself to sleep if it thought of the one night you had spent together all those years ago. The night where he momentarily forgot about your shared pain and instead found light within each other. It had been the best sleep of his life⸺his body tangled against your own in a blazing flush of adoration and tranquility.

In the morning, the Slocumb boy would check his voicemail for any missed calls from you and check his mailbox for any letters. When there were none, he’d resort to continuing on with his day, his thoughts lingering around what you were doing, where you were, and if you were okay.

Reading a book you had recommended to him, Igby tried to pass the time. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he read. The boy's attention was broken by a knock on his front door. Pushing himself off the couch, he places the book down and approaches the door with a swiftness in his step. Without peering through the peephole, the brunette opens the door and pauses at the sight before him.

Your body stood frozen before him, your eyes scanning his before taking in every feature. He had grown since you had last seen him; his face was more mature, and his body was not as awkward against his posture. His slouch had disappeared after all these years away from his family, no longer looking over his shoulder or running from shadows that lingered for too long.

His hazel eyes held onto a stunned shine, taking in every part of you. His tongue darted between his lips as he tried to decipher if this was real or if his imagination had finally seeped into reality. You had looked different, yet exactly the same. The sun circling around your body, causing your new freedom to radiate off you in waves.

After a prolonged moment of shocked silence, you smile and breathe out, “Hi.”

That smile, your smile, and that voice, your voice. It was real, it was right here in front of him, you were right here in front of him. The warmth that California couldn’t supply Igby came rushing through him in waves of love as your eyes locked, a grin growing on the boy's face before his hands grabbed the sides of your head, pulling you into a long-awaited kiss.

The two of you smile into it, unable to stop laughs of disbelief from breaking through the moment. After all this time, after all the distance⸺this was happening.

You were real. He was real. This moment was real.

Pulling back slightly, the boys' thumbs caressed your cheeks softly, the two of you looking at one another with tear-filled eyes. Unable to say anything, he pulled your lips back to his own. This time, there was no laughter, there was no smiling. There was passion, there was gentleness, there was warmth, there was comfort, and above all else, there was love.

The two of you would continue to live your lives together in harmony. Knowing that no matter where you were, as long as you were together⸺everything would be okay. You’d grow together, you’d fight together, and you’d love together. There were times of hardship and disagreements, but never doubt when it came to each other or your relationship. In moments of weakness, you would uplift one another, and in times of remembrance of your estranged families⸺you’d remind one another how much love there was between the two of you, and there was no limit on it. Your love for each other was unconditional.

For so long, you two had been labeled as difficult. Difficult to obtain, difficult to tolerate, difficult to love. They said you two were too sensitive, too much to handle, too emotional. It was the universal curse of sensitivity. However, as time continues and your love grows stronger with Igby, it becomes clearer. You were not difficult to obtain or tolerate. And you are not difficult to love.

Igby and you now knew that your sensitivity wasn’t a curse⸺not when it led to this. This happiness, this warmth, and this love that would grow forever and evermore.

#kieran culkin #igby goes down #igby x reader #igby #igby slocumb x reader #igby slocumb #gn!reader x igby slocumb #gender neutral reader

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