#atlantic is what got me through her passing
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Tokyo drifters // drag racer Chris
Warnings: car sex / tit fuck / cum kink / fingering / cunnalingus / size kink / spit kink / enemies to lovers trope / dangerous driving ig (?) / mentions of smoking and brief mentions of alcohol / praise kink
Summary: what do you get when you cross a competitive drag racer with an equally as competitive opponent? Smoke, engine oil and a whole lot of sexual tension, that’s what.
Author’s notes: and so let the obsession with racer fics begin, but with a Chris flavoured twist. Chris strikes me as the illegal, reckless driver type, hence my modern twist on something very fast and furious-esque. Chris x drag racing actually makes me wet u guys I fucking love it, like- imagine him drifting around in a red Nissan Skyline gtr with his black and white leather jacket on, UGH it really just gets me going…
“We could do whatever you want, you could fuck me in the back of your car” - HER, Chase Atlantic
The black asphalt glimmers with a coat of wetness and a pattern of oil spillage slicked over the top of it, the technicolour rainbow greased and worming in the fluorescent lights of the street as the heavy hum of revved engines purr in your ears and echo across the emptied roads.
Beer bottles and cans splash here and there on the dripping concrete with discarded cigarette cases and lighters balanced on top of littered leather jackets.
Illegal drag racing. Bets. Stacks of money shoved into the pockets of the driver that is triumphant at the end of the night.
You’re here because this place is rife with the best of the best. The ones who really soak their hands in the leather of their steering wheels, who breathe the musk of their seats, and who burn the rubber marks of their legacies into the very streets that they rocket through each early A.M.
At present you stand to the side of the pavement, smelling the stench of broiling petrol mingled with the scent of flavoured cigarette smoke.
Your eyes survey the various Suzukis, Mustangs and Toyota drifters, all in different colours and all with different painted decals to signify each of the driver’s unique personality, wrinkling your nose at the lack of female drivers leaning against their own cars.
There are plenty of people here.
The rules are simple, you bet on the driver you wager is going to win and then whatever number of votes the driver receives determines their starting position at the beginning of the race.
As your eyes pass over the mingling people chatting in heaped groups with different drivers, you dismally notice the one person who you most definitely did not want to run into tonight. The only other person who can match your speed.
Great. Well that’s just fucking fantastic.
He is on his own. His lanky figure leaning against his electric red Nissan drifter with sleek black wheels and windows, his raven brown hair dusting his face in waving curls as his hands tuck themselves into his black and white leather racer jacket.
A long white cigarette lies perched in between his lips, smoke lazily oozing out from the lit cherry before dispersing into the cool night air in front of him.
He makes no effort to smoke it properly, simply lets it rest in between the purse of his lips whilst he too, observes his competition.
That is, until his eyes trail their way over to you. Now you’re both looking at each other, and he finds it within himself to cockily smirk, your silent rivalry unnoticed by the rest of the bustling audience here to simply bet and watch the race.
You scoff quietly, pushing your feet into a walk, you’ve got to go and talk to him now.
You gradually make your way across the sopping wet tarmac road, heading straight in the direction of the one man who always knows how to rub you the wrong way.
As you go, you fish one of your own cigarettes out of your cigarette case, and then light it. It sparks, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly whilst waiting for you to reach him.
When you do, you stop and nod at him in greeting, mumbling a curt ‘Chris’ after whipping your cigarette from out of your mouth and resting it within your pointer and middle finger.
To contrast your cold behaviour, your arch nemesis tilts his head playfully, his smugness practically oozing from his figure as he retorts with a ‘hey sugar… ready to lose tonight?’. Your nostrils flare.
The only reason you came tonight to race is because you didn’t think Chris would be here.
You fucking hate racing him, in fact, you hate even being within a close proximity to him. He drives you up the wall, irritates you to no end and most importantly- absolutely chokes you with conflicted feelings.
Because how can someone that you hate this much also be someone you feel so irresistibly attracted to?
Chris always finds the most painful of ways to dig under your skin and clamp his claws around you until you’re gasping for air and practically begging to be let free.
Free from the inescapable prison that coaxes you into constantly thinking about him, even when he’s not around.
‘You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you win tonight, that money is mine’ you spit a laugh, before feeding your cigarette into your mouth and inhaling it to calm your nerves. He makes your fingers twitch, and sometimes you’re not sure if it’s because you want to wrap them around his throat or use them to pull his neck down into a kiss.
He raises his eyebrows and starts to once again use the mocking lilt to his tone that you know oh-so-well. ‘Oh really? Because last time I checked I’m pretty sure that money had my name on it’. He readjusts his lean on his red Nissan to make himself seem taller, and you grit your teeth at his teasing antics.
You don’t answer, and instead open you mouth. Chris watches the smoke that you had been holding in your lungs come seductively curling out, and he swallows nervously. It mingles between you two like a barrier of attraction before melting away into the damp air above you as you resume your usual grilling.
‘How’d you even find out about this race anyway? Thought you stayed on the South side?’
Chris shrugs and basks in the obvious annoyance your voice contains. He knows he’s in dangerous territory, this is your side of town, and you know the roads way better than him over here. But then again, when has Chris ever backed down from a challenge?
Plus, he fucking loves teasing you. He gets such a rise out of it every single time, in which case it’s worth hauling his ass all the way over to the other side town just for a race.
Just to see you.
He can’t help it, he just can’t keep himself away.
‘Friend of a friend’ he responds vaguely, before deciding to pluck the almost burnt out cigarette from his lips so that he can thrust it to the floor and crush it underneath his sneaker.
You roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t believe that Chris managed to weasel his way into this race, because it’s definitely going to ruin your chances of going home with that prize money. To say Chris is a reckless driver is an understatement, he’s fucking good, but he also takes risks, risks that bargain with his life and the lives of others, so naturally, when people see his notorious red car pull up to races they panic and stay far behind him.
Not you though.
‘You best count your fucking days Chris because there’s no way in hell I’m letting you win this time…’.
Chris chuckles, his eyes narrowing in a siren-like way before reaching up to your mouth and slowly pulling your cigarette from out of your lips. ‘Yeah…? Well we’ll see about that, won’t we baby cakes?’ he chides, before fully stealing your cigarette and putting it into his own mouth without hesitation.
Your blood boils at his persistence and you spin around in a rage, wishing you could just run him over with your car. At least that would stop the heartbeat from pulsing in between your legs at his weirdly sexual action.
After watching you whisk away, Chris quickly gets into his car and slams his red door closed, satisfied with how flustered you had looked. Revving his engine with a humongous effort to get the race going, he knuckles his leather steering wheel before pulling away from the crowd to let them know that the race will shortly commence.
He is definitely eager to prove you wrong as he observes the way the heavy crowd of people disperse from the middle of the road and let the competitors and their cars through to their designated spots for the countdown.
Engines throttle and rev, starting up and growling like hungry beasts whilst you get into your own car. You then drive to your own assigned spot which had been conveniently placed somewhere in the middle for tonight’s race.
Suddenly, you spot a flash of red roaring up from behind you in your rear view mirror and you resist the roll of your eyes at Chris’ boy racer behaviour.
Chris’ car comes creeping up to level with yours. Slowly, the driver’s window is rolled down and you are faced with his attractive side profile, his nose delicately curving and his jawline popped. Except, now his hair is pulled back by a red bandana, leaving his earrings to glint in the fluorescent artificial light.
He faces forward, but then turns with another smirk plastered to his lips.
You roll your own window down, your engine also screaming to go, but instead of a red colour, your car exudes a violet purple hue, your front and rear lights tinted indigo with plastic filters that make the car in front of you glow a hazy pink.
‘May the best driver win, sugar’
The devil’s smile is concocted between his own teeth, the cheeky glint in his eye echoing the way he mockingly puts his pointer and middle finger up to his forehead to salute you before putting his foot on the gas pedal and roaring ahead to take his privileged place at the front of the line.
᧔♡᧓
Engines growl, their exhaust pipes spitting out puffs of gasoline scented smoke whilst each of the multicoloured cars creep into their places.
An orange car motors past you on your right, and a grey and blue one slides past your left, leaving you in the wet spray that their scuffed tyres kick up, but you’re not paying attention to them.
Craning your neck, your eyes narrow and your jaw grits at the back bumper tail of Chris’ neon red vehicle, the red brake lights glowing like the eyes of a demon as he simply sits stationary.
The city lights glow from the skyscrapers and illuminate the starting route of your racetrack, the wet asphalt making the reflections of the luminescent lampposts shine and bounce about the technicolour array of cars on display.
Chris thinks he’s better than you? Well, you’re just going to have to put that theory to the test then.
You hope that his heart beats just as competitively as yours, his eyes constantly checking for your pink headlights in his rearview mirror.
Finally, reaching into your glove compartment to slide on your black tinted sunglasses, you shut it back up again to listen to the heavily increased revs of car engines. The muffled cheers from the audience provide white background noise whilst the drivers’ exhausts rattle and their pipes growl.
A woman in sky-high stilettos then comes walking into view with a white flag raised above her head.
The crowd suddenly silences, all on the edges of their seats with anticipation.
Without another moment to lose, she quickly swipes down the flag, the white fabric fluttering as she goes before engines shriek and cars jerk forward, each driver putting the pedal to the floor. This forceful way of starting roars the inner workings of their cars whilst they frantically try to switch gears.
Coloured machines weave in and out of each other as the gods of drag racing look down upon the fast-paced urgency of the race, drivers testing one another and pushing their bodies to the limits as they zip and swerve about the road.
You keep your eyes locked upon Chris’ monster of a car though, because it easily pulls out in front and his drive forward quickly clears of any other cars. They just can’t keep up with his intricate drift work and very readily fall behind him.
You’ll admit, his turn of the wheel is masterful and his eye for the surroundings is impeccable as he nearly just shaves around corners and obstacles whilst keeping a steady track of the pathway ahead. However, this only increases your desire to win more.
You find your foot gently feathering upon the accelerator, your car rattling within your ears as the wind from your open window beats against your face and whips your hair around your neck.
You have already overtaken a handful of cars by now, with tyres screeching and smoke exuding from the rubber.
The eyes of every racer competing constantly zip about, just to check for lurking police cruises whilst traveling down the racer’s route through the nearly abandoned city road.
Your beasts for machines rocket past alleyways, giving homeless people a show as your paint jobs flash by their eyes in a juvenile blur.
Gears click as both yourself and Chris constantly press down on the clutch to drift around tight corners, your teeth gritting as you realise that you are now only a few competitive cars behind him.
Chris, meanwhile, frantically looks through his wing mirror to count how many cars lie between yourself and him.
But, then he widens his eyes and has to adjust it in confusion at the infuriating sight of your purple car hightailing it up the road to try and catch him. Already?
This always fucking happens whenever he gets a head start.
He rolls his eyes, stepping on his gas pedal even more to makes his car groan and jerk away on in front once again.
His bandana stays secured onto his head whilst he chews irritably against a fresh toothpick selected from out of his own glove compartment that also contains random junk such as cherry cigarette packets and condoms.
‘Fuckin’ woman’ He spits underneath his breath before aggressively jerking his wheel to the side and rounding another corner perfectly. His car skids and his wheels screech over the asphalt, centimetres away from hitting the curb before he’s straightening his steering wheel up again.
This time though, he can see the finish line in the distance, the small crowd of spectators gathering like little observant ants, watching as his car comes racing towards them from the mist of the city horizon.
However, you come in straight behind him with your engine roaring and your gasoline bubbles popping. Soon, your window reaches his, and you look to your left to see his side profile.
His jaw is clenched with his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows sitting in a glared furrow. His pupils then quickly flit to your car, and you pass each other a challenging look, hate spiralling within your gazes.
And everything is passive between the two of you, that is, until Chris decides to fight dirty.
His lips purse and he yanks his neck to face forward once again, before turning his wheel aggressively. His drifter then swerves near your wheels, nearly knocking you off to the side and sending you skidding into the curb. You frantically have to straighten back up again after only narrowly avoiding the crunch of his front bonnet.
That fucker.
‘HEY!?’
You yell to him with your window down, but he puts his own one up in response, his lips twitching up into a mischievous smile as he tries to tango with you upon the stretch of your own battlefield containing engine oil and concrete road strips.
He goes in for another direct hit, your tyres dangerously close to each other’s as his machinery tries to ram into yours.
Worryingly, you realise that Chris probably isn’t going to stop this dangerous teasing because of his determination to win. So, through your better judgement, you slow yourself and defeatedly allow his cocky red bumper to cut in front of your bonnet.
Chris beats you by a second, his wheels screeching over the pathetic make-shift line drawn in squiggly black graffiti.
You’re practically seething at this point.
After you angrily jerk your steering wheel, your car drifts to the side and it expels hot smoke from the grind it has against your back tyres before coming to a sideways halt.
You put your car in park, take off your seatbelt and speedily open your car door.
As you step out, you see that Chris has also stopped and gotten out himself, his sneakers crunching against the wet tarmac and his leather jacket squeaking whilst he slams his own car door shut behind him.
You clock eyes with each other and immediately find yourself storming up to his victorious figure that yet again leans against his car door suavely.
Whilst making your way over, someone sidles up to him and hands him a thick wad of cash that he stuffs right into his conniving little pockets with a mean smile of his face, aimed directly at you.
As you reach him, you just can’t help yourself, and before you know it you’re knuckling your fists into his leather jacket and yanking him right down to your face. His breath hitches in shock as he sees your lips close enough to claim that you are practically kissing.
Instead of actually kissing him however, you spit out a ‘what the fuck are you playing at?’ with your eyes narrowed and glinting frostily in the city lights.
They travel over his face, scanning him with scepticism whilst little strands of his raven brown hair curl out from the hold of his red bandana, no longer combing the shorter ones back and just letting them freely swish about his eyes in the wind.
‘Listen honey if you want me to pay for any scratches I gave to your paint job no can do, told you that money was mine…-‘ he cheekily retorts, using one of his ridiculously irritating nicknames for you to further worsen your drumming heart beat.
You didn’t realise you had pulled him this close until now.
This makes your nostrils flare with anger and you quickly release him, seemingly in denial of your own feelings as you listening to the way the zips of his leather jacket jingle at the force of your strength.
You scoff, sticking your nose up and further voicing your discontent at him.
‘Chris- you fucking cheated?!’ You shout with a small laugh in disbelief, your arms crossed over your chest as you refer to his illegal drag collision.
‘No proof? Didn’t happen, sweetheart’ he sassily bites back at you, which makes you falter, but your glare only harshens after he immaturely pokes the centre of your chest.
Does this man just make it his mission to piss you off as much as humanly possible?
Both of you maintain tense eye contact, your chest heaving whilst Chris’ eyes subtly flick downwards to soak in the look of your body.
As more coloured drifters cruise past the finish line, the silence gets awkward, awkward enough for you to spontaneously shouts a shaky ‘I want a fucking rematch!’, not really sure what provoked you to voice this random request. Usually, you couldn’t bear to be around Chris for more than 5 seconds at a time.
So why did you all of a sudden have the urge to be alone with him?
The way you look at him prompts Chris to suspect that this request probably isn’t just about having a rematch, that in fact it’s something much deeper… what that is, he doesn’t know yet, but he’s prepared to find out.
Clearing his throat, he slips a box of cherry scented cigarettes from out of his leather jacket whilst looking around wearily. You swallow, and watch him in silence as he puts one into his mouth and flicks on his lighter. Holding it up to the cherry, it sparks, and a small wisp of smoke puffs out from his pursed mouth.
He opens the door of his Nissan once again before sliding inside.
The scent of maraschino cherries diffuses across his ride and melts into the white leather seats as he shuts his door before using his hand to turn on the ignition. Then, he rolls down his window to thankfully still see you standing there expectantly and waiting for an answer.
Chris simply sits back in his seat, watching the wind comb through your hair as sickly sweet cherry flavoured smoke finds its way up into your nose.
‘Well?’ You raise your eyebrows and snap at him, your hip cocking sassily. But even though your exterior front looks confident, your insides panic and your mouth becomes dry at the very much tangible sexual tension within the air.
Chris looks forward for a second, leaving the both of you in silence once again so that you can take in the far away laughs and clinks of beer bottles from the left over straggling gamblers that are now only talking about Chris.
He squints his eyes with his cigarette still in his mouth, deep in thought, before crinkling his nose and sniffing, reaching his hand out to twist the keys of his car in the ignition properly. His car rumbles to life as he takes out his cigarette, resting it in between his two fingertips.
That arm decides to leans itself on the car door as his wrist and hand dangle out of the window.
‘Meet me at Carolina Point at 3am’
He mumbles to you, as if not wanting anyone else to know about this secret little rendezvous before he’s pushing down the handbrake of his car and it’s lunging forward.
He motors away with a singular hand gripping the steering wheel, turning it smoothly and leaving you with the remnants of his car exhaust fumes, his cherry cigarette butts and the smell of his black and white leather jacket.
᧔♡᧓
It’s 3am.
And music quietly hums from your radio as you pull up next to Chris’ parked car, the glittering red paint job a flashy eyesore when matched with the dark background of the skyline.
Carolina point overlooks a section of the city that is well known by racers like him and yourself and so it provides a nice backdrop for the strange meeting that you two are about to have. Chris sits on the bonnet of his car, looking down to the veins of his city before twisting his neck to observe the way you get out of your own car.
A small smile ticks at the side of his lips before he quickly wipes it away and stands up from his bonnet, the machinery creaking and the suspension bouncing upwards after being released from his weight.
‘Surprised you came’ he muses, before spitting the old toothpick from in between his lips into the long grass.
You roll your eyes and meet him halfway, already nervous about being alone with him in such a close proximity, especially after what had already unfolded between you two beforehand.
‘Course I did, you cheated’ you muse spitefully, and stop right in front of his taller frame. But Chris edges a little bit closer after you had come to a halt, which makes your palms sweat.
You try to keep your composure, fully intent on getting on with the business of the rematch you had wanted, until you fail when you physically watch the way Chris’ eyes dilated at the sight of you.
It makes you nervous to see his body react to you in such a way, and that nervousness only gets worse after he intentionally lowers his voice to purr a quiet ‘oh yeah? An’ how are we gonna fix that hm?’. His head tilts and his tone is as smooth as caramel, the tease almost belittling in manner.
Your chest expands with a stuttering deep breath, the smell of cherries tart on his tongue and overwhelming as the scent stains his jacket too.
Your heart quickens in pace the closer Chris’ head gets to yours, but you don’t move back, even though every siren in your body imaginable screams that this is so terribly fucking wrong.
You blink up at him, almost forgetting why you’re supposed to be here before dumbly stuttering ‘b-by having a rematch…’.
Chris looks at you so hungrily… so primally, and you hardly even get the time to finish your sentence before your mouth is being engulfed by his. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and neither do you.
His lips are soft and buttery as they rub against yours, your whole entire body stiff and your eyes wide, before you ever so slowly melt into his embrace.
Chris utters a quiet whimper of content and the noise almost makes you squeeze your thighs together. You didn’t even realise Chris was capable of making a noise like that.
Your lips smack together after Chris pulls away, saliva wetting the moist pink skin.
You’re trapped within a daze, utterly stunned and drunk on the taste of his mouth. Chris’ eyelashes feather, and he bites his lip in nervousness, testing the waters of what he’s just done to you. But you look as though you’re absolutely enamoured by it and so he grins in satisfaction.
He goes back again, this time more aggressively, to suck and pull on your lips, and you freely let him, not a single thought behind your eyes apart from the way his teeth pull on your flesh.
‘I- I want a rematch’
Chris pulls away just once for you to voice this timid defiance, however his only thought is concerned with how deliciously red and juicy your lips look. He acknowledges you only by dipping back in and pressing another soft kiss to your peachy pillows, humming a little ‘mhm’ in agreement but also not really listening to you as his face twists and his nose brushes against yours.
The wet sound of his lips sucking your plumper ones into his mouth makes your panties dampen.
‘What if I wanna make it up to you in some other way?’ He daringly mumbles against your lips which wets the skin even around them with his saliva. The arch of your back is subtle, but it’s still fully there as you weight up the pros and cons of this situation. But really… are there any cons aside from the afterthought of knowing that you let your sworn enemy touch your body in the most intimate of places?
At the present, it seems like such a small price to pay within the delusion of your lust. And Chris’ hands already feel just so magical when their big impressions carve their way down your waistline, sliding over the bumps of your hips.
Fuck they’re huge in comparison to yours. And that thought alone makes you wet, your folds becoming even slicker at the motion of Chris using his hands to force you up against the hard side of his car.
The metal and glass behind your back makes you shiver and the machinery is freezing cold in the already frosted mountainous air of Carolina point.
This cold suddenly brings you clarity, and for a second you have to fully stop and pull away from his intoxicating tongue, just so you can voice a stupid ‘wait- what are we doing…?’.
Your mind goes reeling and your eyes look like saucers when remembering just who you are kissing… and who is pushing you up against his car.
Your chest heaves and your voice sounds fully strangled, the vision of making out with Chris plaguing your mind and turning it rotten.
But Chris only gazes at you, understanding how weird this must feel, because it feels weird to him too. However he can’t help it, one taste was enough for him and now he’s hooked.
He pushes back into you with haste, his thick hips greedily pinning you to the side of his car as he groans an ‘ugh- fuck it, who even cares anymore?’.
It’s almost like he’s jointly voicing this to his own self control, because he then allows himself to messily paw at the side of his vehicle, frantically looking for the door handle to his back seat whilst fully enthralling himself within your kissing lips.
Your tongues twist, and it’s messy, but you love it just the same. Especially after feeling Chris beneath his baggy black jeans, thick and throbbing for you when he moans in approval at the touch of the door handle.
He curls his fingers into it and yanks it open, the suctioning sound of the door making your heart gallop tenfold because of the connotations that come with Chris forcefully pushing you into the backseat of his car.
Are you two really about to do this? What even happened to get you to this stage?
It all seems like such a blur now, the spontaneity of your actions helping to numb the idea of regret. An idea that you know you’re defintely going to feel in the morning.
But not tonight… tonight is about wandering hands and careless affections, between two people who just so happen to supposedly ‘hate’ each other.
He grabs you with a growled laugh of ‘c’mere’, his large palms splaying underneath your thighs as he hoists you into his arms and walks you around the sharp edges of his red door.
Practically throwing you inside, he’s eager to clamber in himself and restart his torturous decent of your luscious neck skin.
So he does, and he slams the door behind him whilst doing so.
Meanwhile, you spread your legs to let him into you, your ass sinking into the plush white leather of his seats as your back comes to rest against the opposite side door.
Now you’re seeing a completely different Chris, that hovers over you and gives you that toe curling gaze he’s perfected over the many months of first competing with you.
The gaze is reminiscent of the first time you two ever raced together, with a hint of attraction and chemistry there, until you started to hate each other as soon as it became more of a competition to see which one was better.
This Chris is so astronomically different in comparison to the one you had grown to absolutely despise, the two of you stuck in this viciously competitive cycle of building up tension after tension until all of it just burst and ended up with Chris’ head right in between your legs.
He yanks off every single article of clothing wrapped around your lower half, trying to resist the urge of snapping open your underwear and making a mess of the delicate red lace as soon as he sees it.
Fuck. You’re even wearing his racing colours.
‘These for me?’ He teases and raises his eyebrows whilst simultaneously slipping off your panties and lifting them to the side of his face.
Without knowing any better, you smirk and nod, guessing that it’ll drive his narcissism absolutely crazy. And you’re right. Because soon after, he scrunches up the soaked panties into his fist and throws them up to the front of the car. They messily then land on the dashboard.
He smirks down at your shining red cunt, wet stickiness practically drooling from out of your hole already.
‘Imma drive with your panties on the dashboard all the way home so that anyone who seems them will know how good I fucked this pretty little pussy…’
You swallow a pant at his crude language, not being able to help the shake of your hands or the blink of your eyes. ‘Do it… for me?’ You coquettishly breathe back, and it only drives Chris up the wall further. With this being said, he obeys and darts his head down to your centre, wasting no time in peppering small suctioned kisses against your inner thighs.
They quiver as soon as his face gets closer to your centre, and you know he’s just about to put his tongue on you because he smirks, gearing up to say another filthy thing.
‘M’sorry I cheated baby’ he pouts boyishly, before giving your clit an open-mouthed kiss.
You whine and buck your hips up into the firm hold of his rough hands, that have slid around to force you down and keep you from squirming away at his stimulation. ‘Forgive me?’ He speaks with his head tilted. Then a thick globule of spit comes tumbling from his mouth to plink onto your throbbing heat.
It greedily rolls down your pinkness and Chris goes in for another heavy kiss, this time closing his eyes to eat you like his life depended on it, licking around you clit and even dipping himself into your hole. He’s not sure when he’ll next get the chance to fuck you like this and so savours it with as much fever as he possibly can.
All the while, you lie with your back propped up against the opposite door, looking down at him with your calves smoothly slung around his shoulders.
You hypnotically watch how your thighs twitch at every opportunity Chris gives you, his tongue rolling over several pleasure points in an effort to get you to come.
‘Mmm-okay’ you moan before bitting your hand and mumbling through your teeth ‘I forgive you, please- please just let me cum’.
He had been savouring this for a while now, leisurely dipping his tongue in and out of you whenever he felt like it as he pressed his other palm over the thick bulge in his jeans, trying to suppress its ache by kneading it downwards and squeezing himself.
He struggles not to openly thrust his hips into his hand at the tiny whimpers you make, because you sound so pretty trying to reach your high.
He sighs before giving you one last rolling kiss. ‘I guess that’s only fair, alright I’ll let you cum sweetheart’.
Straight after he says this you let out a heaved ‘Jesus Christ!’, your cry brandishing tears within your eyes as one of Chris’ long fingers unexpectedly slide right up into your throbbing cunt, your precome already acting as natural lubricant to coat his skin.
It’s almost mouthwatering how good it feels, for both you and Chris. His finger seems to fit in there perfectly, and so he adds another, stroking your walls and curling them upwards delicately.
‘Can you fit three in there baby…? Please let me put three in… you look pretty when you’re drooling for my fingers’ he whines, his voice high pitched and begging for you to allow him the pleasure of three.
‘Fuck- yes, please, please put three in. I can handle it!’ You moan in desperation, not really knowing what to do with your hands, so one feeds itself into his luscious brown locks whilst the other one curls around the white leather headrest of the back seat you’re sitting on.
You white knuckle it when Chris effortlessly coos ‘there’s a good girl… gonna make you feel so good’ whilst inserting his third finger, its length making your back arch and the windows of the car fog up.
‘Look at you… fucking up the back of my car, needy girl’ Chris muses whilst observing the way some of your wetness leaks out and blobs onto his nice white leather seats, the condensation of your horny breath staining the windows and your hand practically clawing at his headrest whilst his fingers work inside of you.
‘S-shut up. You wreck the outside of my car, I’ll wreck the inside of yours’ you bite back sassily, your whole entire chin tipping back in ecstasy as you feel your orgasm clawing beneath the lining of your gut.
Chris’ fingers speed their pace at this, and the squelch of them working past your screaming orgasm nearly makes him cum all over himself within his pants, especially after hearing your continuous moan at the motion his harsh fingertip thrusts.
After you calm, you careen forward to grip onto the wrist of his hand, tapping out immediately in overstimulation. He pulls his sopping wet fingers from out of your core and then lollipops them into his mouth.
As you sit there and regain your breath, your cheeks redden impossibly further at Chris’ quipped demand of ‘take off your top’, still with his fingers bitten in between his teeth.
You do as he says, watching him pull his hand back out of his mouth with hooded eyes as you peel off the tight fabric.
He doesn’t even have to tell you to take off your bra either, you just do it, giving him the gorgeous sight of your tits resting on your chest.
‘This good enough for you?’ you tease, letting one of the straps from your bra slide down your pointer finger before tossing it next to your already discarded panties that sit upon his dashboard.
Chris blinks at your devilish action in shock, before putting a smirk back onto his handsome face.
‘Oh I am going to fuckin’ destroy you’ he cackles playfully, before curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and pulling your body to lay down horizontally.
You gulp as you tilt your chin upwards, watching the way he pulls his jeans and his underwear down with his gleaming cock springing up to hit his lower abdomen.
Licking your lips, you have to squeeze your thighs together at the sight of it as he then turns towards you and advances forward, with his lower half bare and his racer jacket and black t-shirt still in tact over his top half.
His pulsing cock stands on end, and he bites his bottom lip whilst clambering over your thighs to get to your stomach, much to your utter confusion.
That is, until you realise why he asked you to take your top off in the first place.
Planting his knees on either side of your underarms, they sink into his plush leather as he towers over you, grinning at your heaving chest. From his height advantage, he gathers a jewel of spit into his mouth and tips his head forward, allowing it to ooze outwards and splash against the valley in between your tits.
You swallow at this, watching as he then shuffles downwards and leans the head of his dripping prick onto the puddle of saliva he had created.
‘Push your pretty tits together sugar’.
Now when using this nickname, it sounds sickly sweet instead of full of malice, coated with a thin layer of cherry sauce as his cheeky grin perfectly mirrors the cheeky action of him using his hands to help you squeeze the sides of your tits together.
Your skin feels sticky with Chris’ spit and Chris lets out the ungodliest of groans when pushing his tip forcefully into the crack between them.
You hiss in pain at the feeling of Chris’ cock wedged against your tits, but bite your lip and ignore it in favour of watching the way he fucks his hips into them.
His pink head disappears in and out of the top opening and he has to fall forward and grip his hands onto the door to keep himself steady. He ruts himself faster with the added security and his car begins to shake at the aggressive motion.
He had done the majority of building up his orgasm whilst eating you out, so now all he had to do was finish it off, and what better way to do that than with his cock buried in between your tits?
‘Fuck Chris-’ you mumble with your mouth dropped open and your eyes glued to the way small drips of precum already leak out from his cock onto the flushed skin of your chest.
‘Ugh- I’m… I’m cumming- fuck- open your m-mouth’ Chris moans into the air, squeezing his eyes shut as the elastic band of his orgasm snaps and forces cum to come squirting out of his head, some of the sticky white liquid coating your chest, but the other half of it finding its way into your open mouth.
You wait for Chris to milk himself dry, your tongue still out expectantly, until he sees that you’re wanting permission to swallow it.
To help you, he reaches out one of his tremouring fingertips to gather up the cum smeared over your chin, then he slides them into your mouth.
You suck on them, swallowing all of what he has to give you with a tired but appreciative hum as he looks down at you with glassy eyes of complacency.
What the fuck just happened between you two… and why did he feel like he wanted to do it all over again?
᧔♡᧓
‘You still really not gonna pay for any of the scrapes you gave my car huh?’ You speak up into the awkward silence as Chris shuts the back door of his Nissan, leaving the smell of sex to permeate within his car.
He lights one of his cigarettes and snorts, trudging his way around to the front of his car before yanking the door open, your bra and panties still resting on the dashboard and yourself still very much naked underneath your regular clothes.
‘In your dreams sugar’.
There’s another silence as the two of you just look at each other, not knowing if whether or not you’ll ever see each other in that kind of vulnerable light again.
One thing is for sure though, no one can ever know about what happened here tonight.
Chris looks almost hesitant to go with his face softening and smoke tumbling from out of the red cherry of his cigarette. He blinks to snap himself out of it though.
‘Cya at the next race baby…’
He tips his head and then slides down into his car as you look at him wantonly.
‘Yeah… cya’.
᧔♡᧓
Author’s notes p.2: hot. RIVAL RACERS AND ENEMIES TO LOVERS TROPE OH YEAHHH. This is defintely the longest fucking thing I’ve done so I apologise for that lol. And I’m also equally sorry for the ridiculously long wait omg, I’ve been hyping this up too much so I’m sorry if it’s not that great bc most of it was written on major sleep deprivation haha. Also guysss exciting stuff is happening as I’m almost at 2,000 followers and me and @luv4kozume have got something really fun planned for us both hitting 2k!!
Taglist: @luverboychris @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @stursweet @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @thesturniolos @sturniolosreads @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @ellie-luvsfics @matthemunch @mattsleftnipple03 @robins-scoop @asturniolos @imwetforyourmom @nicksmainbitch @sturnioloenthusiast @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @rootbeerworshiper @chr1sgirl4life @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @isabellehoran @1800chokedathoe @sturnsmadl @sturniolossmut @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattswifey00 @sturniolowhore @skadltmf @sturniolosstar @luvsturns @mattestrella @hearts4chriss @orangeypepsi
#matt sturniolo#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris x reader
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Wild Nights || CL16 {4}
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader
Voice claim: Ashe <- link to her Spotify here if you want to listen to the songs
Summary: It's time to say goodbye to Monaco but not to Charles.
Warnings: 18+only, phone sex
WC: 2.4k
F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue
You had arrived in Monaco heartbroken and angry but somehow some of those broken pieces had been glued back together in just a few short nights. Now, as you walked through the airport for your flight to Los Angeles you felt a different ache entirely. You were off on a new adventure and following your dreams, but it had come at a cost.
You turned and blew one last kiss to Charles as he stood still in the busy terminal, a few people waiting patiently to get his attention and an autograph. He smiled sadly and pretended to catch it, holding it to his chest until you disappeared inside the security area.
“Tell me I’m doing the right thing,” you murmured to Bea as she hooked her arm in yours and kept you walking when your feet stopped moving.
“This is your dream and I don’t need to remind you that you can’t waste this opportunity. There aren’t second chances in this industry. You know it and he knows it.” She placed her bags on the belt to be x-rayed and you put yours behind it. “Stop doubting yourself.”
You stepped through the metal detector and jolted when alarms went off. The security guard pointed to your arm and you remembered the charm bracelet that Charles had clasped to your wrist before you left for the airport. The miniature race car hanging was a reminder of your time together and the empty spaces were the promise of more to come if your schedules allowed it. It hadn’t seemed like a big ‘if’ at the time but now you wondered if it was a gentle way of saying goodbye.
“Hello?” Bea asked as she waved a hand in front of your face. “Take it off.”
You swallowed down the emotion that had tightened your throat and fumbled with the clasp until she rolled her eyes and did it for you. “What’s got into you?”
“Nothing,” you uttered as you passed back through the machine without setting it off and grabbed your bags back from the x-ray. You couldn’t put the bracelet back on and felt the emotional weight of the thin chain heavy in your pocket. Bea was still looking at you oddly so you forced a smile on your face. “I’m fine.”
“Mhmm, you nearly put salt in your coffee. You can barely function.”
You groaned as you remembered tripping over your feet getting into Charles’ car. “It was just an early morning, after a late night.”
“Well get used to it, you’re going to live in the recording booth for the foreseeable future.”
“Speaking of, I have a few ideas. Here, have a listen.” You handed her an airpod and went through the recordings you had made with Charles last night. Her head bobbed along to the tune Charles had written on the piano while you played around with some word variations to see which worked best.
“I like it,” she said with a grin. “Do you have more lyrics?”
You nodded, not needing to tell her that you were overflowing with them. Charles had been your inspiration and your muse all night as he sat beside you on the piano bench, his fingers dancing across the keys with a grace you were envious of. It was easy to imagine endless nights spent sitting right there, everything with Charles was easy - you were just two broken pieces that fit together to hide the jagged edges.
The lights on the plane had turned dark and Bea was fast asleep like most of the passengers as you crossed over the Atlantic Ocean but you had been unable to close your eyes. Your thumbs flew across the keyboard on your phone as words spilled like a torrent from your head and you looked through the collections of songs you had written.
There was a clear definition between the ones that were written before you landed in Monaco to the ones on your mind now.
You only hoped the record label liked the direction your music was heading. The samples Bea had sent through were all snapshots of your heartache and regret but these new ones were going to show your healing. You weren’t sure what you would do if you couldn’t record them all to narrate the evolution of your growth and help you move forward.
Album Track Playlist:
Side A:
Moral of the Story
Hope You're Not Happy
Save Myself
I'm Fine ft. Bea
Side B:
Love You Need
Shower With My Clothes On
Til Forever Falls Apart ft. Finneas
Love Is Letting Go ft. Bea
You were so excited that you didn’t even think about the time when you called Charles. The bracelet on your wrist chimed since you couldn’t keep still and you ran your fingers over the charms he had added when he found time to stop in LA. You had even gone to Miami for the weekend when he was racing there and experienced the explosive atmosphere that he lived for, something that was so vastly different from his calm disposition.
“Hello?” he answered, his voice raspy with sleep.
“It’s me, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
The call dropped and a second later his name popped up requesting a video chat that you rushed to answer.
“Is everything alright?” Charles asked, the side lamp beside his bed casting a warm glow across his bare chest as he sat up against the headboard.
“I did it,” you squealed as you held up the large vinyl album you had spent months working hard on. “I fucking did it!”
The sleepy glazed look in his eyes disappeared in an instant as he sat up straighter and leaned in to get a closer look at the album art, a proud smile bright on his face. “I knew you would, I never doubted you. Now can I finally listen to it in full?”
“Hold on,” you said as you crossed the room to the record player and showed him the two sides. “Before I met you or after?”
“What’s the difference?” he asked with a smirk since he certainly knew the answer after being a sounding board for your writing process during some very late night phone calls.
“One is morose and dark, which is kind of your favourite to listen to when you are alone in your bed.”
“You know me so well, but I want to hear you happy.”
You flipped the album to the second side and put it gently onto the tray, carefully dropping the pin onto the edge. The speakers crackled to life before the opening track began, the piano intro sparking the memory of sitting beside him as he played the tune idly at 3am on a Sunday morning.
You sprawled in the middle of your living room floor watching Charles as he listened to the song with you. It didn’t matter that it was after midnight in Monaco while the California sun blistered outside your window, for those precious minutes where he lay with you on the other side of the world, you were connected.
His eyes closed as he absorbed it all and you could have believed he had drifted back off to sleep with the peaceful look on his face, but his fingers danced along invisible keys. Still, those green eyes would peek open with a smile whenever you harmonised along with some of the lines but he didn’t dare to say anything and disturb the moment.
One song merged with the next, then the next, until the needle reached the centre and started scratching. You flicked it off and let the silence wash over the room before rolling onto your stomach and propping your phone up, waiting to hear the verdict.
Charles ran his tongue over his lips and swallowed deeply before he ran his finger beneath his eye and captured the glistening tear that spilled over his thick lashes. “Magnifique, chérie. Je suis tombé amoureux de toi.” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “You made me lose my english.”
You buried your face in the cushion you had been resting your head on and smothered the scream of excitement you let out knowing he liked it. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for waking you.”
“It was worth it,” he said sincerely, “and I can sleep on the plane to Austin tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Same, unless you were planning to wear those assless chaps again,” you teased and he groaned at the reminder.
“They told me everyone was wearing them!”
“Maybe in a Texan strip club,” you laughed. “I think you nearly broke the internet.”
He settled back amongst the pillows and pulled one into his arms, hugging it tight. “I wouldn’t mind it breaking.”
You saw his eyes turn down and you sat up, bringing your phone closer to inspect him more closely. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said dismissively but you weren’t going to let it drop when there was obviously something on his mind.
“Charles, there’s no secrets between us, I know you better than I know myself,” you softly encouraged him. “Whatever is worrying you, you can tell me.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his biceps flexing as he did, a nervous tick of his. “My contract runs out next season and this one has been terrible. What if we don’t improve?”
He sighed and the dejection broke your heart as you wished you could reach through the phone and hold him like he needed. Tomorrow, you promised yourself, tomorrow you would hold him and tell him what he always told you - that everything will work out exactly how it is supposed to be.
“I can feel my dreams slipping away, chérie, and I don’t know what to do. This is all Jules and I talked about, winning a championship with Ferrari, and I feel like I’m letting him down, and myself.”
“A lot can happen in a year, Charles, just focus on right now and keep trying your best, that’s something that is in your control.” You could see no amount of words were going to get through to him when he was stuck in his head like he was, so you tried for something different.
You made your way to your bedroom and closed the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking enough to draw Charles attention back to the screen. He sat up a little as you put the phone on your drawers giving him a full view of the room he had spent dozens of nights in, whenever he could schedule a layover between flights or have a few days break from work.
“I thought this might distract you,” you smirked as you began to push the straps of your dress off your shoulders, the material pooling at your feet.
Charles bolted upright and shuffled back against the headboard as his chest rose with the deep breath he took. “You have my attention.”
“Do I?” you teased as you ran your fingertips over your collarbone and over the swell of your breasts still hidden by the lace of your bra. “You look a little sleepy, are you sure you don’t want to sleep instead?”
“You’re driving me crazy,” he groaned as threw the sheets back and pressed a palm to his erection.
“You drive me crazy, especially when I’m in bed all alone and missing your hands on my body.” You reached for the clasp of your bra and let it fall to the floor with your dress, sighing as you teased your nipples and imagined it was him. “What would you do if you were here, Charles?”
“Everything,” he said with a smirk as his hand started to slowly rub over the tented material of his boxer shorts. “I would start with your lips, I love how soft they are on mine. I would kiss every inch of your skin and taste you on my tongue.”
Your lips parted with a moan as the memory of his touch warmed your belly and your hands drifted lower, your thumbs hooking under your panties to slide them down your legs. “What else?”
“Fuck,” he echoed your moan and pushed his boxers over his hips before fisting his cock. “Get on the bed, chérie. I want to see you pleasure yourself.”
You practically floated to the bed on cloud nine and you knew you were already wet before you parted your legs for him to see. His heavy breaths reached you through the speakers as you dragged a finger through the warmth and glided it over your clit.
“You make me feel so good, Charles. Nothing compares to you, my fingers can’t fill me like you can.”
His abs tensed as he tightened his grip and stroked himself faster. Your cunt clenched at the sight and you fucked yourself in time to his strokes. Your eyes threatened to flutter shut as your toes began to curl but you would daren’t miss a moment of watching Charles pleasure himself.
His chest rose and fell, his lips parted with soft pants as he ran the pad of his thumb over the bead of precum leaking at his tip, his other hand cupping his balls and gently squeezing them in time. You were so familiar with the sounds he made and you knew he was close, just like you were.
The warmth in your belly was quickly spreading across your body and your back arched as it ignited into a fire that burned through you and Charles’ name tumbled from your lips.
“Mon Dieu, t'es trop sexy,” he moaned as his entire body tensed and his cock throbbed, thick ropes of cum shooting over his abs. He shuddered as he squeezed out every last drop before sagging back against the headboard and sighing with relief.
“Better?” you asked with a giggle.
“Beaucoup,” he replied with a lazy smile, his body completely relaxed and his mind free for the moment from the worries that had burdened him.
“You’ve lost your English again.”
His chest bounced with a quiet laugh and he reached for a dirty shirt on the floor beside the bed, wiping his mess off his skin. “You have that effect on me.”
“I pride myself on it.” You saw his eyes starting to turn heavy and remembered it was the middle of the night where he was. “You should go back to sleep. I’ll see you in Austin.”
He was already starting to drift off as he snuggled back down in his bed and it wouldn’t have been the first time that the video call had stayed connected overnight. There were bad days when one of you needed that extra comfort of knowing you weren’t alone and it was the only way you could be there for each other.
“Sweet dreams, Charles,” you whispered as he closed his eyes.
“I love you,” he murmured and you wondered if he would remember saying those words come morning light. Your stomach tied itself in knots as you hoped he did.
“I love you too.”
Click here for part five.
Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc smut#f1 imagine#f1 smut#f1 fanfic
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Stolen Hoodie SMAU
Halloween Smut Special!!
A/n: doing god's work and giving yall Nada smut in collaboration with my gf @badasgirlfriend .
Bada finally had enough, as she glares at the girls talking at the other side of the room. Bada's grip on the her cup tightens as she watches Nari and Xiaoting be close to each other.
"Girl what did the cup ever do to you" Lusher calls out as Bada's cup is finally bent from how strong her grip is and the drink splatters on her hands.
"Shit" Bada muttered as she makes her way to Nari, leaving Lusher confused before piecing the two together. Lusher smiles as she announced what happened to their group chat.
Bada grabs another cup of alcohol, downing it down in one go as she makes her way through the lively crowd to the girl wearing a Lola bunny costume.
"Come with me" Bada said as she glares at the girl who is flirting with Nari.
"Wait— where are we going?" Nari stumbles on her feet as she try to keep up with the taller girl.
Soon they reached one of the empty room in Aeri's house as Bada quickly locked the door before pushing Nari against it.
"What the fuck is wrong with yo—" Bada cuts off Nari by a kiss to which the girl immediately responds.
The sexual tension between the two has finally got into them as they both finally give in.
Bada's hands started to roam all around the shorter girl's body, caressing her waist then coming up to her back
"Fuck, Nari" Bada said in between the kiss before licking the girls lower lips, asking for permission to which Nari granted as she opens her mouth slightly agape as their tongues intertwines.
One of Bada's hands is now in the back Nari's head whilst the other is busying itself taking off Nari's top.
"W-wait— Bada stop" Nari pulled away from the kiss making the taller girl stare down at her.
"What?" The taller girl asked annoyed, her actions are already fueled with lust and jealousy, she just wants to take Nari right then and there.
"What's the problem, why are you acting weird?" Bada scoffs "Kissing you is weird?".
"That's not what I meant" Nari crosses her arms around her chest, which made Bada look down and stare at the girl's exposed cleavage, making the girl bit her lip unconsciously.
"Bada!" Nari called out to the girl, Bada rubs her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh before turning away from Nari, walking to the middle of the dimly room where the bed is before sitting on it.
"You wanna know my problem?" Bada stood up once again, approaching the girl slowly. "My problem is that girl you're talking with, can't you see how she is litterally eye fucking you all these time?"
"So the whole reason for this is just because you're jealous of Xiaoting?" Nari can't hide her smile as she looks at Bada.
"What's with that look?" Bada stares at Nari who has a teasing face on. "You look so cute when you're jealous you know?" Nari teases.
Bada lets out another sigh before passing the girl to open the door. "This is so dumb" Bada said but Nari stops her from going away any further.
"Where are you going?" The shorter girl pulls Bada closer before pushing her against the door.
"You can't just leave me like this you know?" Nari started leaving butterfly kisses around Bada's neck, earning a gasp from the tall girl.
"You need to finish what you've started Ms.Lee" Bada could swear that her eyes might just roll to the back of her head when she heard Nari talk that seductively.
"Fucking hell" Bada could only say before bringing Nari to the middle of the room and pushing her down to bed as she climbs up on top of her.
The two pull each other once again into a passionate kiss, not wasting any time as Bada started trailing down kisses on Nari's neck, sucking and biting, leaving red spots all over it.
As Nari's hands grips on Bada's hair, pushing her head deeper while exposing more of her neck to her.
"Bada—" Nari managed to moan out which made Bada's kisses go harder. Bada's hand is placed on Nari's thigh, caressing it which just made Nari moan louder.
The loud music from the party outside drowns out their moans as the two continues to eat each others faces, tonguea intertwined, Bada's leg is placed between Nari's making the girl grind into it.
"Stand up and strip for me" Bada commanded as she moves away to make room for Nari, the girl immediately complied and began taking of her costume as painfully slow as possible while swaying her hips to the blaring music outside the room. Bada couldn't help but bit her lips as she stare her down.
Nari finally reveals her white laced bralette with a pairing laced thong underneath her Lola costume. Bada inhales sharply as she admires Nari's body.
"Fuck, come here baby" Bada gestures to her lap, as Nari sits on it, placing her legs to the tall girls sides. Bada immediately attacked Nari's neck once again. Sucking and biting more hasher, trailing the kisses down to her cleavage while her hands caresses Nari's inner thighs, her fingers casually grazing over the girl's clothed cunt, feeling the wet patch on the girl's panties.
Nari couldn't help but grind onto the dancer's lap as she felt herself getting lost from the stimulation she is experiencing from Bada's hands and mouth.
"B-Bada..." Nari whines "...want more please~"
"God you sound so cute when you beg, what do you want baby?" Bada teases as she 'accidentally' grazes over Nari's clit again, that causes the girl to mewl.
"Hmm—Ah!" Nari's soft moans just turns on Bada more as she yearns for more. Bada finally had enough and pull off Nari's bralette and dives in, taking one tit in her mouth whilst massaging the other.
Nari's eyes rolls to the back of her head once she felt Bada push aside her panties and start playing with her clit, the soft squelches of her cunt can be heard echoing in the room despite the loud music outside.
"Oh— hah, Bada so g-good" Nari moans as her hands flew to the dancer's hair as she gives it a light tug. Bada moans against Nari's tits when she felt the pleasurable pain from her scalps.
Bada then released the girl's breast before capturing Nari's lips once again, pushing her tongue inside her partner's mouth as she inserts a finger inside Nari's sopping cunt.
This made the girl arch her back, and break away from the kiss, releasing a loud moan.
"Oh shit— you're so wet yet you're so tight" Bada muttered under breath as she pulls Nari once again for a kiss while her other hands massaged the girl's tits once again
Nari couldn't help but moan into the kiss, her hand is still tugging on Bada's hair, whilst the other is on the tall girl's shoulder for support as she starts riding Bada's fingers.
Tears started welling up on Nari's eyes as she feels the overwhelming pleasure, Bada has inserted another finger inside her while her thumbs continues to massaged her clit.
Her legs started to shake as her eye rolls uncontrollably when she felt a knot building up on her stomach.
"B-bada wait I— ngh" Bada smirk as she felt Nari's walls tighten "Yeah, I know" Bada presses some butterfly kisses on Nari's neck over the bruises she puts herself, "go ahead baby, cum on fingers" her pace fastens as the knot on Nari's stomach finally breaks.
Her body is shaking as Bada helps her chase her high before making her lay down on the bed.
Planting subtle kisses on her lips, cheeks and neck, going over all the marks she planted. "god I love you so much" Bada muttered against Nari's skin as she continues planting kisses all over her body, from the girl's neck, down to her breasts, before planting kisses on her thighs.
Although still sensitive from her first orgasm, Nari found a bit of strength to raise her head only to see Bada positioning herself in between Nari's legs.
Bada pulls down Nari's underwear before trailing kisses again on her stomach down to her pussy, "Bada, what are you doing?" Nari tries to stop Bada as she is still recovering from the previous orgasm.
"Oh darling, did you think I'm done with you?" The room is a bit dark but Nari could sense Bada's smirk as her face comes closer to her cunt before giving it one long stripe and another after another until Bada is pressing her face on Nari's cunt.
Her tongue goes deep inside her, occasionally sucking on her clit, while she thrust fingers back and forth.
Nari's legs are over Bada's shoulders, her moans are uncontrollable, her nails are leaving scratch marks on Bada's back which just made the dancer moan onto Nari's cunt, sending out vibrations to her body which made her shiver. Her toes curling at how good Bada's mouth and fingers work on her body.
A few tears streaks down from her eyes as the pleasure starts to build up once again on her body. Her breathes started getting short as she Bada continues to eat her out.
Nari pushed back Bada's hair as she watches how the dancer eats her out. Bada's eyes were closed, almost like she is savoring the girl's flavor, treating her like a delicacy. Slowly, Bada looks up and made eye contact to Nari, smirking as she dives in once again back to Nari's cunt which makes her throw her head back.
"Mhmm— so fucking delicious" Bada muttered before planting kisses Nari's inner thigh before going back to eating her out "should've done this earlier" Bada chuckles against Nari's pussy. " Yeah, you should have—Oh!" Nari retorted but Bada immediately cut her of by thrusting her fingers faster and harder.
Nari arches her back as she moves her hips to the same rhythm Bada sets as she chases another orgasm.
"B-Bada i'm gonna— ngh hah" her breath staggers as she finally releases her juices, her legs shakes as her toes curl from the pleasure as Bada gladly laps up her juices, not wasting a single drop.
Soon, the exhaustion has finally get to Nari's system as she passed out on the bed, when Bada noticed this she couldn't help but chuckles as she stood up and finally turning on the light in the room.
As Bada finally looks back at Nari, she first admire the hickeys she planted all across Nari's neck and breast, but as her gaze trails down, she starts to notice the bruises on the sleeping girl's body. These aren't just normal bruises, it seems like it was there for some time now, some are already fading while some looks like it's still fresh and was just a few days old.
Bada's eyes grew with concern as she inspects the girl's bruises closer. "I promise I'll find a way to help get you away from that man" tall girl muttered under her breath.
Bada decided to worry about the concerning marks on Nari's body and decided that she should clean the girl up first.
But as Bada was about to pick up Nari's clothes on the floor. The door was abruptly opened by none other than a drunk Yeonjun.
"Oh shit" the two made eye contact, Bada quickly turns around and covers Nari's naked body, while Yeonjun quickly turns around and closed the door, looking traumatised as he goes back to where his other friends were.
"Fuck" Bada thought to herself, putting Nari's clothes quickly and picked her up, carrying her all the way to her car, as she drives back to her apartment.
#stolen hoodie smau#bada lee fanfic#bada lee imagines#bada lee x oc#bada lee smut#bada lee#bebe#Spotify#street woman fighter 2
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Addiction
Part One: A Chance Encounter
Warnings: Language, mentions of alcohol and being drunk
A/N: Ok, so not smut, but its coming, we have to set the scene first 😉
You felt your phone buzz in your hand, the screen illuminating your face in the dark dining room as you looked through your text messages. You rested your back against the bar located in the corner of the room.
Darien: Wish you were here. London is boring without you
You: That’s impossible. You’re literally in my favorite city right now
Darien: I’ve been in my hotel ever since work ended. My team went out to the pubs without me
You: You should really be going out with them
Darien: Always thought my first time in London would be with you. Love you
You: I-
You were stopped from responding by a glass of liquor being shoved in your face. You looked up to see Sierra in front of you, double fisting two glasses of what you suspected to be a rum and coke, your choice of drink for these industry events. You were among the Hollywood elite tonight in a New York City restaurant, celebrating some actor, whose name you couldn’t bother to remembers, fifth trendy and over-priced alcohol launch. You were far from a celebrity, but often made the guest list of these events on behalf of your boss. Working as the assistant for the VP of publicity at Atlantic Records admittedly had very few perks, one of them being able to rub elbows at parties with the latest TV heartthrob or whoever managed to be at the top of the Billboard 100 chart that week.
Did you sound a little jaded? Sure, but you were also borderline tipsy.
“Was that Darien?”, she asked, looking around the room as she took a small sip from her glass. “Ooh, Bad Bunny. That’s five.” Sierra bounced on her tippy toes as you narrowed your eyes to get a better look across the dark room. The two of you had spent the last hour trying to identify as many celebrities as you could. You were losing, having accidentally mistaken Kevin Jonas for Joe Jonas. You tried to argue that it was an easy mistake, given that they were brothers, but Sierra was unwilling to give you a pass.
“I don’t think that’s Bad Bunny, and yes. He just got done with his meetings for the day. He decided to stay in the hotel for the rest of the night I guess.” You took a big swig of your drink. You way past the part of the night where you were still feeling the effects of alcohol. “All of his colleagues went out to some bars.” You slipped your phone back into your clutch, tucking the bag underneath your arm again. You’d respond to him when you got home later.
“Dull Darien”, Sierra slurred her words as she giggled out the nickname she had given your boyfriend when you started dating over three years ago. You caught her just as she stumbled over her heels, making a mental note to watch how many drinks she had.
Sierra had been your best friend since essentially birth. Your moms were best friends, and you grew up two houses down from one another. When you were kids you were attached at the hip, and not much had changed over the years, as she became your plus one to all of these events. She knew you better than you knew yourself, and she was never shy about how she felt about your boyfriends. There had been Jerky Jacob, your high school boyfriend, Bossy Brian, a guy you had dated right out of college who Sierra was convinced was a narcissist, and finally Two-Timing Trey, who had earned the name for obvious reasons.
“Enough with the nickname, S.” You warned with a dramatic roll of your eyes, knowing she had no intention on stopping. “He’s not dull, he’s just-“ you were having a difficult time finding a word that wouldn’t edge her on. “He’s boring. Just say it. Not an exciting bone in his body.” You opened your mouth to object, but quickly closed it. Truthfully you had no defense. Darien was boring, and that was putting it nicely. The first time you met him, you definitely didn’t feel the usual butterflies of excitement, but you were just getting out of your relationship with Trey, and you weren’t looking for thrill or adventure, you were looking for safety, and if Darien was anything, he was safe.
“I’m just saying, you’re hot as fuck, you could probably have any guy you wanted. Hell, you could probably walk up to any of these celebs and go home with them.” You scoffed, tipping your glass up to get the last drop of top shelf rum. The dress you were wearing was borrowed from one of your stylists friends, a sequin cocktail dress from 16Arlington with a rather large peekaboo cutout at the front that showed off your cleavage. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want some random celeb. Maybe I like my dull boyfriend.” Your words sent Sierra into a fit of giggles, partially from her inebriation and partially because she knew you were lying through your teeth. “Please don’t pretend like if Drake came up to you right now, you wouldn’t jump at the chance to leave with him.”
“Damn, my money was gonna be on Brad Pitt. He seems like more your type.” You turned on your heels to see a tall figure, his chestnut curls hitting right at his eyebrows, a frame to his gorgeous blue eyes, the rest of his hair cut into a mullet. You immediately noticed his handsome smile as you studied his face. You had learned early on in your career how to identify which guys were someone and which ones were wannabes in this industry. He was tall enough to be an athlete, but too lanky. He still had life in his eyes, something that a lot of actors lost when they realized they were selling their soul for a recurring role on a CW drama. That left someone in the music industry. You recognized him, his face was hung up in the halls of Atlantic Records, but the name escaped you.
“He’s a little bit out of my age range. I prefer my actors to still have a will to live.” Your joke earned you a chuckle from the-, the mullet suggested alternative band, but the cocky stance and southern drawl to his accent made you think rapper- the rapper. “Well, tell me-“, he paused to allow you to fill the silence with your name. “Y/N, and this is Sierra.” You gestured at your friend who was having trouble standing up straight, her hand gripping the bar to steady herself.
“Well, Y/N, Brad Pits loss is my gain.” His words were suggestive, no doubt, but he spoke with such a confidence, you weren’t sure if he was actually flirting with you, or if that’s just how he talked with everyone. “I’m Jack.” He extended his hand out to you, and you cautiously accepted, quickly breaking apart.
“I know where I know you from. You’re Jack Harlow! I love your song”, she snapped her fingers carelessly, hoping it would jog her memory, “Business Class.” She punctuated her words with a hiccup.
“Close enough.” He chuckled, his gaze never leaving your face. He was trying his hardest not to look down at your body, even though he thought you looked fucking gorgeous. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.” Jack’s eyebrows perked up when you spoke. “I see your face every day on my way to work.” You could tell you lost him when his face fell. “Sorry, I should probably explain. I work for Jason.” You could see the dots quickly connecting in his mind. “Oh, fuck yeah, I love Jason. He’s keeps me out of trouble.”
You felt your phone vibrate against your side. You were inclined to ignore it until you felt it pulse a few more times. “Sorry, I have to get this.” You just missed Jack’s look of disappointment as you looked down at your phone.
Darien: Couple of pictures of the view from my hotel. Wish you were here.
You scrolled through the photos, all different, slightly out of focus angles of the Thames. Leave it to Darien to also take the most boring pictures.
“Must be really important.” Your head shot back up at Jack, who was now resting his elbows atop the bar. “Oh, it’s nothing.” You shook your head as your phone slipped back into your bag. “Just a family member.” You weren’t sure why you lied in the moment. Jack didn’t know you, and besides the initial flirting, he wasn’t trying to make a pass at you. At least as far as you could tell; you were just starting to sober up.
“Let’s ask Jack.” Sierra was now standing in the middle of the two of you, leaning a little too close to Jack for comfort. He backed up as he smelled the vodka on her breath. “Jack, Y/N is dating this guy right now, and I think he’s just the most boring person on the planet.” Jack looked at you with a smirk on his face as you tried to hide your embarrassment, feeling the heat creep up your neck. Jack was hotter than any guy you had previously dated and was already more exciting than your current boyfriend just in five minutes of conversation.
“I mean, the only thing he likes talking about is Game of Thrones and his Lego collection.” Sierra continued, ignoring your pokes to her side to get her to shut up.
“He sounds like a fucking nerd.” Jack uttered under his breath, but you heard him loud and clear. Sierra did as well, frantically nodding her head. “He totally is.” She lowered her head, most likely thinking that was going to help her whisper, but her next words were loud above the blaring music. “Plus, she told me the sex is terrible. Like he barely lasts for more than a couple minutes.” You caught the look of smugness on Jack’s face as he listened to how unsatisfying your current sex life was.
“Okay, I think that’s enough. Time for you to go home.” You yanked at Sierra’s arm, causing her to fall into Jack. He caught her just in time, helping to hold her up. You roughly grabbed her phone out of her hand, pulling up the Uber app. “Fuck”, you cursed under your breath, seeing that the closest Uber was about 30 minutes away and surge pricing had gone into effect.
“Hey, I’ve got a car waiting that you guys are more than welcome to use to get back to your place.” Jack could tell you were more than done with the night, and he hoped his gesture would smooth out your less than successful meet cute. “Are you sure, we really can wait for an Uber.” As if she had timed it, Sierra’s knees buckled, Jack catching her under her arms. “I’m sure.
****
You rubbed your hands up and down your arms, crossing them over your chest as you left the venue. It was colder now than when you arrived, and you were wishing you had that coat that was laying on your bed back at your apartment. Jack followed behind you, Sierra’s arm draped over his shoulders for support. You quickly located the black SUV waiting at the curb, and opened the door, watching as Jack helped Sierra into the back of the vehicle, immediately slumping over to lay across the seats.
“Thanks, Jack, I really appreciate you letting us borrow your car. How are you gonna get back?” You looked at your feet as you asked the question, resisting the urge to look up at his face; his eyes were even brighter underneath the streetlights.
“I’m actually staying right there.” He pointed across the street to a tall metropolitan style building, the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. He stuck his hands into the front pocket of his trouser pants, his shoulders pinned to his ears as he tried to stay warm as well. “The car was just in case I wanted to head to another party, but the hotel bed sounds a lot more appealing right now.” There was that tone again, so suggestive, as if he was inviting you to his hotel room as well. “Have a good night, Y/N. Hope I see you again.” He extended his hand out, his nails perfectly manicured, and you found yourself wondering what his hands would feel like exploring your body. You let that thought ruminate in your head for a second before coming back to reality. You grabbed his hand, returning the gesture, the two of you lingering on the sidewalk. “Goodnight.”
Jack watched as you climbed into the vehicle next to Sierra, before jogging across the street to his hotel.
“He seemed like a nice guy”, Sierra remarked as she rested her head against your shoulder, closing her eyes, “and he was hot as fuck.” She let out a hum of amusement as she started to drift off to sleep.
“Yeah, such a nice guy.” You flipped the room key around in your hand that Jack had planted there. You grazed your thumb over the engraved letters, “The Waldorf Astoria Hotel, Room 1423”, emblazoned in gold lettering on the plastic card.
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#jack harlow#jackman thomas harlow#jackharlow#jackman harlow#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow concepts#jack harlow imagine#jack harlow fanfic
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Protection IV
Read Protection here.
Lots of angst this chapter. More unaware pining for one another. 6.5k words.
Objectively, she was beautiful like a rose and smelled pretty like one too. It didn’t seem like a bad thing to be nicknamed after one but she looked as if he just called her the c-word.
Niall had been working for DSS for a year shorter than she had a security detail. When he arrived at his desk job, he was assured that The US Secretary of State’s daughter would never come to the office. As far as everyone knew, she had no idea where it was. Moreover, she hated everything that this office stood for so why would she ever set foot in it?
However, the second her hand touched the building door. Niall swore he knew. Everyone knew. The air got colder the room darker. If it were the 1600s, someone would have cried witch.
Niall really only knew because this twenty-something girl walked through the door, running pants, a long sleeve athletic shirt, a sporty headband wrapped around her forehead to keep the sweat from beading off her face. She wasn’t a smidge breathless as she walked to the front desk. Niall happened to be on his way out to his lunch break but again, was stopped the moment he saw her enter.
“Uh, hello,” there was a new secretary behind the main desk. This wasn’t really a drop-in service kind of business—especially for someone like the young woman who clearly just popped in during the middle of her run.
She was pleasant, anyway, to the woman. The poor thing had no idea she was talking to the daughter of the top person this bureau serviced. Niall peered around the half-wall like the scaredy cat he was, unable to look away for even a moment but too scared to pass by her for the door.
Harry had the day off—that must have been why she was here now. He probably had no idea she was here. Harry often took shift after shift keeping an eye on her, telling his relief was unnecessary. Sometimes he would work 24-hour shifts just to keep the department happy and of course no one minded missing their time spent with her.
Although 24-hour shifts hadn’t really happened since her terrible night out just over a week and a half ago.
Normally, they would have fired Harry. They had no choice but to send his supervisor out to her—while Harry was trapped here, relaying the story, and explaining the paperwork that he had written—but she was insistent that she wanted Harry to stay. In fact, Niall read the notes from the meeting and she said, "he saved me from something terrible and if you fire him and put someone new, you'll regret it."
Niall felt at the time it was a good idea to pat himself on the back. She liked Harry. That was a good thing. That was what DSS wanted. Someone that she wouldn’t fight with as much. Someone she wouldn’t run away from. Harry was his closest friend as well, and so, when it came time to find another new security member for her, who better to recommend than Harry?
Harry never seemed to mind her antics. Harry’s family, like Niall’s, was back across the Atlantic Ocean. Most of Harry’s friends lived throughout the country apart from Niall. Niall, who also liked his job, was often chained to his own desk and work so even when Harry did have a day off, it didn’t always mean he could hang out with Niall.
So why not hang out with her? She just sleeps and studies. Harry had told him when Niall inquired why he would take so many overlapping shifts. Didn’t he need sleep? Didn’t he need space from her?
“Hi,” she chirped to the poor woman who was surprised this cute, twenty-something young woman. It was like a train wreck. Niall should have alerted someone, maybe even Harry, but he couldn’t look away. Definitely couldn’t spare a glance to text Harry about it. “I was wondering if I could speak to the supervisor in charge of Mr. Secretary’s security detail?” She was all eyelashes, adorable. It had been ages since he’d seen her in person—at the time she had just graduated high school--she still seemed so girlish when Niall was fresh out of college, finding his way around the office he stood in now. Now she was this beautiful young woman.
No wonder Harry doesn’t mind seeing her all day long. She’s easy on the eyes.
At that moment, one of their agents burst through the door behind her, out of breath. Hands on his knees as he gasped for air the secretary looked at the girl who didn’t even bother with her attention toward the man behind her. “Uh...I...I’m sorry, Miss. That’s private information you’re looking for. And he doesn’t really take visitors.”
“I understand, ma’am. However, my dad is Mr. Secretary, so I feel like he’ll make an exception for me.”
Oh, this poor woman was going to have a heart attack. She grabbed her office phone immediately and quietly, but terrified, explained the situation.
Calmly, she stood by the door looking at the different plaques and pictures. Niall’s phone vibrated with a message from Harry. Do you want to go to the pub or something to watch the game? Drink some? Niall went to answer but got the feeling he was being watched. He looked up to see the girl staring back at him. His breath caught in his throat, like he was caught in a horror movie and the monster just saw him. “Hi, Niall,” she smiled brightly with a wave.
What the fuck?
The agent behind her was still gasping for breath but looking at Niall like he had betrayed the entirety of DSS. The secretary was shocked at the sight of Niall as well. “Uh...hi, darling,” he answered awkwardly. “How’s your day?”
“Oh, it’s fine. Just thought I’d go for a jog.”
“A sprint,” the agent grumbled. Niall could see why Harry thought she was funny. “Lost her by the park. Why are we here?”
“I just want to ask a question,” she said with a simple shrug. The poor, anxious woman was shaking as she brought her a glass of water (and one for the agent who clearly needed to hit the gym if he was going to chase after this girl). “Thank you,” she smiled kindly.
For years Niall heard nothing but scary stories of her and her behavior. Harry told him nothing but funny and cute stories of her well-decorated apartment and their movie marathon. There was no way the two entities were the same girl.
Niall knew her of course. He wanted to know how she knew him because Harry didn’t seem like the type to spill personal information like that. “I asked Harry if he had any friends. He mentioned just you, said you worked in the office of this horrible place. So I found you on Harry’s Linkedin profile and then compared you to a picture I found on his social media. Like I told Harry, you should change your last name to your middle name so it’s harder to find you,” she shrugged.
He opened his mouth to speak but the supervisor came flying out of the other room. “Hi, what—”
“What the fuck did you say to him?” She snapped, narrowing her eyes at him.
Oh, Niall loved her. A live show to her two personalities—the nice one that Harry raved about and grumpy one that he only ever heard about at work. Harry’s supervisor looked downright nervous. It never ceased to amaze Niall how this young woman could scare the life out of grown men.
“To who?” He shook his head in confusion. The poor secretary stared at her desk unable to look at anyone. Niall felt for her. He should have returned to his desk, but he was frozen in place watching her.
“Harry, obviously. You guys finally get a decent person in charge of my security. Someone I can actually tolerate and then you yell at him for something that wasn’t even his fault? We actually had a pretty decent thing going. I was just coming around to the idea of sending you guys actual Christmas cards instead of glitter cards,” she rolled her eyes. Each year several people (it was like magic how she knew which few to select) in the office received a card from her. It was always a different return address--never her own. Always looked like one of those a holiday business coupon cards. For some service in the area, and each year they were tricked. Left covered in glitter and with a printed card that said Happy Holidays, but the L was a middle finger emoji.
They fell for it every single year.
“Miss,” he said calmly. “If I can—”
“Are you going to fire Harry?” She interrupted angrily.
“Do you...want someone else?” He asked immediately.
Niall thought she would strangle him if she could. She closed her eyes so tightly, he worried her eyelids might snap. At once she flashed them open. “No, I don’t. But you told him something after that night. You made him all weird,” she frowned. Her voice took on this new tone. One that Niall didn't know she possessed. It was almost...awe-struck. “He barely talks to me," she sounded...upset.
“Surely that’s a good thing,” the agent muttered behind her.
She ignored him but Niall could see she was even angrier at the notion. “Do you know that 6-8% of men and women have reported having their drink spiked at least once in college? It wasn’t Harry’s fault," Niall felt a certain amount of gratitude for her, knowing that she was trying to defend one of his best friends. Even if he was still terrified of her. He could hear the anguish in her voice. It was like she was pleading a case. Hoping that the man in front of her understood how much he had hurt Harry and she didn't care for that at all.
He pressed his lips together. “Why did you come here, Miss?” He asked gently.
“If you fire him or he quits I’m going to do way worse than glitter,” she promised and turned right back out the door. “You always blame me for everything. Always! The one time it was my fault I’m suddenly the one in the right? You’re all infuriating. Enjoy the paperwork,” she grumbled turning out the door sharply. Niall believed the door didn't slam solely because it couldn't. If it could have slammed shut, he definitely believed she would have.
The agent followed after her, still struggling a bit with his breathing. But the moment she left, he swore the room got warmer, the light a little brighter. There was palpable relief in the air. “That girl is terrifying."
Niall couldn’t wait to tell Harry about it.
*
“Do you have a codename for me?” She asked. They swapped out their normal rom-com for a more dramatic-action movie. It caught her eye because it involved a security detail for a political official. She gave Harry a knowing smile and he rolled his eyes with a shrug. “Whatever y’want love.”
It was dramatized beyond belief, of course. Especially when she considered how she was probably one of the most boring people to keep watch over. Given they were literally watching a movie together. Other than her short hospital stay that is. Since then, she was keeping a low-profile. Just as she had thought, her “friends” didn’t really seem to care. But even with her beliefs confirmed, she kind of preferred these quiet moments with Harry. Especially after her talk with DSS.
While they watched, her gaze drifted over to Harry every so often. She enjoyed the way he rolled his eyes at any scene that broke his precious protocol. Harry thought it was funny how they always had secret codenames to describe the person they were keeping watch over. Especially since it was public knowledge.
It seemed she and Harry were on the same wavelength. Hence, her inquiry.
“Uh...The Department calls y’Rose sometimes, but m’not too sure why.” he shrugged. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He had no idea why, but he hated the way she frowned immediately. She looked at her lap, twiddling her thumbs together silently. Harry could see the vulnerability plain on her face. It seemed like she stopped breathing. It appeared he wasn’t going to get a follow up either—at least not voluntarily. He paused the movie to turn toward her fully on the other couch. “S’matter, love?” He hoped his voice was equally gentle, not too pressing. Despite her low-key couple of weeks, Harry was still wary of anything that might set her off. She was agitated still—rightfully so—but he was grateful she was merely agitated with his constant worry. Part of him believed she was maybe even a little fond of it.
She was silent a moment longer. “They still call me that?” She asked so quietly, Harry had to strain to hear her voice.
He didn’t know why they called her Rose. He thought it was pretty. It reminded him of Titanic, one of his favorite movies he used to watch with Gemma growing up. Objectively (but also very much subjectively on Harry's part), she was beautiful like a rose and smelled pretty like one too. It didn’t seem like a bad thing to be nicknamed after one but she looked as if he just called her the c-word. “What do y’mean?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “They started calling me Rose because they said I looked so pretty on the outside...so it distracted people from all the thorns and injuries I cause.”
Harry didn’t like that one bit. He thought a federal agency should also have a bit more class than that—especially if she found out about it.
“I know I’m annoying, but they really just don’t like me,” she explained. “They protect me out of courtesy and obligation. I’m hoping I can make them sick enough that they’ll just leave me alone.”
Harry tilted his head at her. She was annoying at best. She escaped a lot. Required endless paperwork to be done. But she was 24 and as far as he knew, no one had given her an ounce of grace or privacy regarding her role as the Secretary’s daughter. Especially in the last seven years in her role.
“I never wanted the detail. My dad was insistent. Especially after my mom,” she murmured.
She never really talked about her mom. There were no pictures of her on social media and not a lot by way of Google searches. “Where is your mum?” Harry asked.
She looked at him with her more regular, usual, irritated expression. “Seriously?”
He glanced at her in confusion. “Uh...yeah.” She stared at Harry, still irritated for a few quiet seconds. It occurred to her after Harry didn't respond or break the silence that he was in fact serious. She was surprised he didn't know.
Her expression changed from irritation to this wistful, forlorn one. “She died...well...personally, I think she was assassinated but apparently since she’s not a politician it doesn’t count. And of course no one believes me nor asks for my opinion.”
Harry blinked. He thought about his own mother. One of his best friends. The person that texted him without fail every time he felt anxious about an important meeting or the first day on a new job. The one support system in his life that would say honey bun, it’ll work out, no matter how bleak the future seemed in that moment. When there was a girl, Harry told his mum before anyone. If he was feeling poorly, mum gave him a soup recipe that was sure to cure him.
She didn’t have that.
That was a tragedy.
Clearly, she didn’t get along with her dad. He wondered if he would get more insight on that if he could maintain this kind of relationship with her. Harry found all her anger and her attitude suddenly tolerable. No wonder she was so...her. The poor thing.
“Christ, love. M’sorry.”
She shrugged. “S’whatever.”
Harry didn’t know what to say. He was speechless. How do you console someone over something like that? Harry had more questions. Did they wipe it from the internet? Was it traumatizing beyond what was expected of something like that?
Was she there when it happened?
After another moment of silence, she pressed play on the movie. Neither of them spoke for a minute but Harry couldn’t bring himself to focus on the movie. When she began speaking once more, she didn’t pause the movie again. But she broke Harry’s heart. “Sometimes I think they wished I died instead of my mom.”
Again, he was so overwhelmed with worry for her mental well-being he didn’t really know what to say. He certainly didn’t think he could try and console her. Moreover, he didn’t think he would say the right thing. Still...Harry felt compelled to speak. “M’sorry they call you Rose, love.” She didn’t acknowledge him. Kept her eyes on the screen. “Think you’re much more of a Wildflower,” he mumbled under his breath.
That got her attention. She turned away to look at Harry, her eyebrows pinched together the way he worried would cause her a headache. Her lips pursed into a scowl. “Is that a joke at my expense? Seriously?”
He shook his head quickly. “No, fuck,” God, Harry sucked with words sometimes. He felt his cheeks warm a bit in embarrassment that she was acknowledging his words—and more so misinterpreting them. “Sure...they’ve got this ‘wild’ side. But...s’because they grow anywhere. They’re strong,” he shrugged. “They’re bright too...light up the side of the road even if the road isn’t pretty...they don’t need a lot of...care from others. But they’re gentle anyway. Even when s’hard t’be growing under difficult circumstances,” he was kind of rambling.
She really liked what he was rambling about. Warmth spread through her body as he explained himself; there was a sure flutter in her heart that shouldn’t have been there. Harry was being much too kind. Especially when she already tried escaping at least a half dozen times when he was present. Even when she knew she was being a miserable brat each time she did it.
He thought she was strong and gentle.
Of course, the most Neanderthalic part of her girl brain pointed at an invisible neon sign flashing with the words that Harry (someone who was so objectively hot, she would have killed anyone in her path to throw herself at him if he wasn’t in charge of her security detail. If he was just a regular guy she met on the street) thought she was pretty.
“Oh,” she said looking back at her lap once more. “That’s...” she cleared her throat awkwardly. She swallowed, feeling tears fill her eyes. That was by far the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her. Especially since she started needing a security detail. Especially from someone on her security detail. “Thank you,” she rolled her lips into her mouth looking at the opposite wall. She refused to cry because of Harry. And if she was going to cry it was not going to be in front of him. All because he said a few nice things about her comparing her to wildflowers.
Flowers that were obviously pretty—and Harry knew flowers more than any man she had ever spoken to. His comparison of the flower was strong but still gentle...?
Fuck. She couldn’t not cry.
“Are y’alright?” He asked wearily while she had this battle with her sympathetic-nervous system to keep from crying.
“Yeah...” she said and got up from the couch marching down the hall to the bathroom. She turned on the sink and let out a choked sob as she covered her mouth. It had been ages since someone said kind things like that about her...maybe since her mother passed away.
There was a knock on the door only moments after. “Y’okay, love?” Harry asked.
She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her. Trying to keep the tears at bay she squashed the emotion from bubbling in her throat, “Yeah...” unsuccessfully as her voice broke. “Just my mom,” she lied.
She couldn’t see him, but Harry felt like an ass making her upset. Then he felt madder that DSS made her upset. He was going to tell Niall to get everyone to stop calling her Rose immediately. He pressed his head against his arm, leaning on the frame of the bathroom door. “Y’sure?” He asked. If she wasn’t someone he was responsible for keeping watch over, he would have strongly considered yanking the door off the hinges and holding her until she stopped crying. Maybe get her a chocolate bar—the kind she always grabbed at the checkout line.
“Can you just go away?” She snapped.
Harry sighed. It always felt like one step forward and five steps back with her. “Yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled and retreated back to the sitting room.
For her benefit, he pretended he couldn’t hear her crying. Even though it hurt him almost as badly as when he was feeding her peanut butter toast.
*
She had been grumbling for ten minutes. Scribbling interrupted by moments of typing furiously. When she studied, Harry was used to the way her method took up the entirety of the sitting area—nearly both couches, the coffee table, and the floor in between. She sat on the ground, not the sofa. If he weren’t scared of her when she studied—the only time he thought that she was truly scary unlike the rest of DSS because she took studying so seriously—he would tell her it looked like she was having a séance and asking for some biochemist of the past to help her.
But whatever she was doing tonight finally came to a head. When she threw her notebook across the room. Harry had paid almost no mind to her grumbles and quiet curses under her breath up until then. He looked up from his computer with a smirk.
He was running the latest background check on the boy that had asked her on a date—Harry did not approve but it wasn’t his place to judge. The guy was too childlike and didn’t even ask her what her favorite food was and insisted they go to a local seafood place even though she hated seafood. She thought she was being stealthy, but he overheard her telling one of her girlfriends about the date he had planned for her.
His gaze returned to his screen. “Your poor notebook,” he mumbled quietly acknowledging she was upset but so as not to piss her off. She wasn’t doing it for Harry’s attention—again, he knew better than to mess with her study techniques.
“I’m not in the mood, Harry,” apparently, he was still messing with her method. “They save this class for last just so they can withhold degrees, I swear.”
“Love, you’re probably the smartest person I know,” he shook his head. “You’re gonna do well no matter what,” he shrugged simply. He truly believed that.
She ignored his compliment. She didn’t like the way it made her stomach flip—especially after the whole Wildflower discussion. “My brain is fried, and I have an exam first thing in the morning...and it’s just...” She sighed. “It’s so hard sometimes,” she mumbled.
Harry looked back up at her and tilted his head. “What’s hard?”
She glanced at Harry and then looked at her fingers like they were trying to tell her something. Harry didn’t press further. If she wanted to chat, she would. Without speaking, she went to fetch her notebook heaped at the wall and returned to her seat on the floor by the coffee table. Harry assumed she wasn’t going to talk to him about it. That was fine, he went back to his computer.
It was silent for a few moments other than Harry’s quiet tapping on the keyboard in front of him. But she didn’t move, no more scribbling or typing on her end. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke again.
“No one...” she took a deep breath, shaking her head and then tried again. “I’m just my dad’s daughter,” she told him. “No one ever wants to hang out with me because I’m always under a microscope. It’s why I go out and do stupid things because it’s the only time I feel normal. I know it’s not good for me...I mean look at what happened a few weeks ago. People only want an in with Mr. Secretary,” she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Or...they want money...money that I don’t even want because I don’t think it’s fair or right that everyone around me works so hard...and struggles to pay for things,” Harry thought she might be the kindest soul he knew. Even when she was a pain in his butt.
“Do you know I picked this school because it was the cheapest in the city? I worked so hard for every scholarship I could get in high school, and I still took out a few student loans even though my dad told me it made him look cheap not paying for me. I’ve always paid my aunt the cheapest rent she was willing to bill me. She was going to just have me keep an eye on this apartment that she doesn’t even use. But I don’t want people to think I’m the spoiled brat that everyone believes I am. I found an online transcriber job because no one in their right mind would hire me for an in-person job. Someone that always has a full detail of security around her. I work almost thirty hours a week doing it in between class and studying. I know I’m extremely lucky and fortunate. But I don’t take anything from him. I don’t want it. People don’t see that though. I’m just the daughter of the US Secretary of State. In their eyes, my path was paved before me even though I was the one that built it for myself.”
Harry frowned. He never thought about what it must be like to be the child of a top political official. He wondered why she was always going out and trying to escape. It didn’t make sense with her brilliant mind and her hidden, but still somehow sunny disposition.
Despite all the horror stories, this was his favorite version of her. The real her. The one that told Harry things and made herself a bit vulnerable. The empathy he felt for her in that moment was overwhelming. She was seated back on the couch looking over flashcards. Her brow pinched together the way he hated.
“I know everyone told you I was a brat. I know I’m a brat a lot of the time. I don’t mean to be,” her voice cracked a little on the words and Harry watched as the background check on the boy came back clean. Nothing of note. Harry scoured his social media profiles and other than a bit of college binge drinking, he didn’t find anything scary enough to dissuade her from seeing him other than his personal belief that he was a terrible option. “I’m sorry I give you a hard time. I don’t mean to. I’m just...very lonely. Everyone in this class had a person to help them study except me. Because no one wanted to be associated with me.”
Harry closed his computer. Maybe it was a bad idea. But maybe her rant was her way of getting Harry to feel sorry for her so he wouldn’t realize when she was making a run for it again. This reprieve of going out each weekend couldn’t last forever. This date was proof of it. For the last few weeks, he had been enjoying the painless following her; while she ran errands, watched movies, or he spent the time listening to her clean, watching her study, and work around her apartment. However, his mum would be ashamed of him for not trying to care for the poor thing when she was all upset. Slowly he made his way over to the couch with the least amount of study materials on it. “Tell me ‘bout what you’re learning, then,” he shrugged and sat on the sofa.
She stared at him. “You can’t seriously want to help me study.”
“M’not doing anything but sitting there. May s’well make some use of me. Maybe you’ll teach me something.”
There was a pause. She gnawed on her lip nervously. “Yeah?”
He took the flash cards from her hands. The electric currents he felt as her fingers brushed his was overwhelming. He took a moment to steady his breathing (and his heart) as he admired her pretty neat handwriting. He smiled as he read over the words. “I don’t even know how t’pronounce this, love, s’like gibberish. Maybe I won’t be much help,” he remarked. "What is this? Halloween-genisis-candy canes?"
She giggled and looked at him gratefully. “Thank you, Harry," she said releasing a breath she didn't even know she was holding.
“Of course, love.”
"And it's Hallogenalkanes."
*
She didn’t notice when Harry fell asleep because they had taken a break from him quizzing her so she could reread the study guide once more. It wasn’t until the flash cards fell from his hands that she realized it was well past midnight. She smirked at him snoring quietly. He was pretty cute when he slept...and wasn’t constantly on her about what was correct protocol. She grabbed the cards into a messy pile and placed them on the coffee table. Careful not to wake him, she quietly collected all her study materials and added them to the haphazard pile on the coffee table as well. Gently, she threw a blanket over top of him, and she swore she could see him sigh, face smushed against the back cushion.
She should have gone to sleep in her bed for the mere few hours she would get her mind to settle before waking up for her exam. Sleeping in her bed would be better for her brain. But despite everything, Harry helped her. Really helped her.
Plus, if she went into her room, she could only imagine all the noise Harry would make in the middle of her REM cycle in the few short hours she had once he realized he had fallen asleep. She imagined he’d attempt to rip every door off its hinges before he concluded that she was just asleep in bed.
Instead, she scribbled a note to leave on the bathroom door for him, brushed her teeth, then grabbed a pillow and another blanket off her bed. Returning to the free couch, she made herself comfy; sure to be in full view of Harry so when he opened his eyes, she would be the first thing he saw.
When he did wake up later—completely broken that he fell asleep because it’s so unprofessional and so not protocol he could scream—he was immediately relieved to see her beautiful, sleepy face facing him on the other sofa. He rubbed a hand over his face, irritated with himself. But this is his other favorite version of her. The gentle, worriless, pretty girl he can’t help but start to really like.
Realizing that protocol was next to impossible with this girl, he had one little back and forth silent argument with himself deciding if he should leave her be or take her to her room. But she had an exam in the morning, and she deserved a comfy bed. It had been weeks since he had to hold her, cradled in his arms, and it felt so effortless now. He tried not to think about how nice it felt, especially now that there was no danger. In her sleep, she nuzzled her face against his chest, and he definitely felt a pang of...well that emotion was definitely not protocol.
He brought her to her room, carefully laid her on her bed and covered her with plenty of blankets because he definitely wasn’t going to be trying to wrangle the sheets and duvet around her. He felt an absurd amount of adoration as he tucked her in and he tried to shove it as deeply as possible into his chest.
Once her door was closed, he turned and found the note taped to the bathroom door. It wasn’t as neatly written as her flash cards, but somehow, he found this handwriting even more beautiful. It was loopy—not quite printed, not quite script. Harry had watched her doodle and scribble a lot over the last few months. He knew that she ended a lot of her doodles with little hearts, she signed birthday cards to her friends with a little heart at the end of her name every time. But he found the little heart at the end of her note to him the most precious thing in the world.
Thank you for the help studying. I won’t tell anyone you fell asleep. Don’t worry, I managed to brush my teeth without any kidnapping nor dying. I hope you sleep well.
Harry--becoming fully aware of what was happening to his heart and why but couldn't be bothered to stop it anyway--smirked, felt the dire need to call his mum about her, and put the note in his wallet.
*
She had completed her exam and looked terribly exhausted. Harry typically followed about five steps behind her. He found she usually liked to grumble to herself about whatever she forgot in class or if there was an issue with the exam itself. But today she was quiet and after a few steps outside the flow of traffic of most others she turned to wait for Harry to catch up. “Coffee?” He asked. She shook her head and continued in stride with his steps. She didn’t speak. Just walked alongside him.
Fortunately, it was getting cooler, so her leggings and long sleeve sweater were no longer out of place. Harry, however, looked like a spy, forget agent. He wore black dress pants and a crisp white button down and black tie that she could see due to his open black leather jacket. She wanted to ask if he had a date after he got done here because he looked really good.
But that made her think about Harry dating, and she felt so jealous she thought she might gag at the idea and trying to ask him. “Y’okay, love?” He asked gently opening the passenger door.
“Hmm?”
“Y’kinda...squeaked? I don’t know.”
Shit. “M’tired,” she mumbled not looking at him as he went around to the driver’s side. “You look nice,” she continued staring out the window. “You have a date or something?” She smirked unable to contain her curiosity.
Harry had this laugh that made her insides turn to mush. His laugh didn’t go on and on for ages, but the first few notes of it were like the melody to her favorite song. He didn’t let it out all the often. His “movie” laugh, as she liked to call it, was much more subdued and frequent.
But right now she got his real laugh, her favorite song. Even when it shouldn't have been. “I don’t really have time t’date all that much. I do have a meeting this afternoon t'discuss...your dad coming next week.”
She bristled at the idea of her dad coming to town. She couldn’t decide if she would rather he didn’t come at all. But it was Thanksgiving and he had facades to display and people to impress that he and his only daughter had a happy life even though they suffered such terrible tragedies. “Oh,” she was quiet a minute. Harry stopped at the coffee shop drive thru despite her protest because he knew she had work when she got home and her left eye was drooping more than the right. She was grateful for that because her original intention was to go home and sleep for an hour, but Harry seemed to know what she wanted better. “Why do you have to be there? Aren’t you just mine?”
Shit, shit, shit. That was not how she should have said it.
Harry smirked, ordered his and her usual, leaving her in agony as she thought about the prospect of Harry being hers and what his reaction was regarding this information she blurted out awkwardly. She didn’t want to further acknowledge it, finding interest in the parking lot outside her window instead. However, she could see the way Harry mulled it over with excitement in his eyes. “I am jus' your agent,” there was a smug little dimple on his cheek that she wanted to smack off his face. Her heart took off even if she wanted to wipe his shit-eating grin off his lips. “But...m’the only one who doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving...so s’kinda like I’ll be in charge of everything, so people can have their holiday with their families.”
That seemed like a big deal. Even from her perspective. Harry in charge of it all, even for a day. “Oh, wow,” she said blinking. “Is that something you...want?”
“I’d much rather jus’ focus on you if that’s what you’re asking. Think m’starting t’have you all figured out, love.” She resented that. She liked being a mystery. Or a pain in the butt, and what have you. She took the coffee cup he passed along to her and scowled even though her heart was a mess knowing Harry just wanted to focus on her.
Within seconds, she was a bit down about it. Her heart settling into a miserable pattern instead. If he did a good job at this, he would probably be up for promotion. Which was probably something he wanted. He would probably leave her detail and she would get stuck with someone new who didn't help her study and complained when she needed help hanging up her floral stuff. “Y’okay?” He asked again. She certainly wasn’t about to tell him about her fear of abandonment again.
She shook her head. “Fine. Just...I don’t know, we’ve still got an hour of that movie left. Thought we were going to finish it today,” she muttered.
“Sorry, love. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Don’t you have tomorrow off?” She asked.
He frowned. “Oh right,” he sighed. “Well, whenever we—”
Her phone was connected to the SUV so she could play her music when they drove around, so it quietly alerted the pair of them that her father was calling. She looked at her phone for two rings, closed her eyes, sighed, and answered. “Hi, Dad,” she said gently.
Harry had never heard that tone before.
She listened, nodding, muttering quiet “uh-huhs,” every so often. “Good, I had an exam today,” her voice was quiet. Timid. Harry was so surprised she even knew how to be timid. “So...when do you fly in?” Harry saw her shoulders deflate just a hair. “Oh,” she mumbled. “No...s’fine. I can...go to a friend’s or something. Yeah. Yeah, of course,” she nodded. “I love—”
Harry saw the call ended on the little screen before she finished her statement. She dropped her phone in her lap and looked out the window. For thirty seconds there wasn't a sound in the car except for the tires on the road. “Pull over,” she said softly. Harry could tell she didn’t want to have to ask twice or be asked questions.
But he had to try anyway. “Is everythi—”
The second Harry was parked, her door was opened, and she was sprinting down the sidewalk. Harry nearly lost his bearings in the sudden change in her demeanor. She didn’t even close her door. He struggled to get his seatbelt off and hurriedly closed their doors before running to catch up to her. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned. Fortunately, his strides were two of hers, so he was able to catch up to her quickly before she turned down the next street. Even in his leather jacket and dress pants. He hoped he didn’t look terrible for his meeting later in front of The Secretary. “Love, what the hell are you doing?” He asked and grabbed her arm pulling her back toward him before she could run any further. She stumbled a bit, Harry steadied her before she was yanking her arm from him. Her gaze was directed away from him. It was then he noticed how misty her eyes looked--even just the view of her profile. “Hey,” he said gently. Much softer than he probably should have because he was supposed to be mad at her. “Love, what’s—”
She shook her head and swallowed. “My birthday is Wednesday; do you know that?” She whispered. He nodded—of course he did. He actually bought her a book he saw that he thought she’d like. Along with her favorite kind of gel pens and journal with flowers on it. He didn’t even mean to get them, but he was at the bookstore on his day off and he couldn’t stop thinking about her flowery apartment when he saw the journal. He wanted to buy her the whole bookstore if he was honest but didn't know what to do with the misplaced emotions and so just stuck with the three little items. “Dad doesn’t remember. Ever. Even though it’s almost always right before Thanksgiving.”
Harry didn’t know what to say. Mum began the count down two weeks before his birthday each year. She would give him updates of the contractions she got the night before his birthday every year, retelling the events for the last twenty-nine years. She told him that “right now, I was having a bowl of cereal. I think that’s what did me in. Swore you didn’t like the kind I chose and wanted out.”
“I’m sorry, love,” he said quietly. Why did she run? “But—”
“He’s not coming. He’s...I don’t know what he’s doing, he didn’t really say. Said he couldn’t make it,” she croaked. “You’re not having your meeting today. I’m sorry,” like it was her fault. “You’re gonna be stuck with me all by my miserable, lonely self and—” She choked on a sob. She didn’t even cry like this when she came to, at the hospital. The only time she ever cried like this was when it came to stuff about her dad. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I swear to God he doesn't even love me," she sobbed. "And I don't even know if I love him most days but I'm his daughter," the anguish in her voice hurt Harry more than all the paperwork he ever had to do. It might have hurt more than the night he watched her in the hospital. Harry’s job was to protect the daughter of the US Secretary of State and it seemed like the only protection she needed was from the very same person. “I—”
“I’ll be there,” he promised. He just wanted to stop the tears. But it was true either way. They pulled so hard on his emotions seeing her so distraught. At least when she studied and worried, she wasn’t doing well, he could remind her she was brilliant and help her study. How did he comfort her when she was lonely for affection, and he was just supposed to be her security agent? “Love,” he practically cooed, he couldn’t take it. Gemma would be so helpful right now if she were here; stroking her hair and telling her she looked pretty or suggesting something useful like stuffing their faces with chocolate cake. Or shopping until their feet hurt. Harry felt useless. There wasn’t much he could do except pull her toward him and wrapped her in a hug. She sobbed against him openly.
They must have looked like quite a pair on the sidewalk to the few people passing by as she blubbered into his shirt. His nice pressed shirt that she was staining embarrassingly with snot and tears. She clung to him instinctively wishing she could disappear behind his jacket like a magic trick.
He rubbed her back soothingly, as best he could. “I know, m'sorry, love,” he murmured. “I know,” his voice was gentle as he repeated his sentiment to her. “M’sorry." It wasn’t enough. He wished he could do more, say more. Despite the stares, no one really seemed to mind the way she cried into his shirt. Harry’s phone was vibrating with messages—probably relaying information she just gave him of his cancelled meeting. “Wanna go finish our movie?” His voice was quiet. She nodded, sniffled and wiped her eyes as she pulled away from him.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
He shook his head. “S’okay.”
“Sorry I ran.”
He shrugged again. “Y’didn’t get far.”
They were quiet as they headed back. A few stray sniffles wracked her body every few steps. “I outran an agent once on your day off,” her voice was a little stronger and they walked back, side-by-side toward the SUV up the road.
He chuckled. “How come?”
“Didn’t think he could keep up,” she shrugged. “He couldn’t by the way. Is there no like...physical fitness test? Like I can’t even run that well so the fact he was struggling...” she trailed off shaking her head. “S’not a good look for DSS. If I could give them a negative star Yelp review, I would.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re something else, Miss Wildflower,” her face warmed at his gentle little nickname. She would never forget the codename conversation as long as she lived but she was surprised he thought about it at all.
“You don’t have American friends or something...on Thanksgiving?”
He shook his head. “M’all yours, love,” he smirked. “I’ll help y’cook and we can watch movies?” He asked opening her car door again. She paused before she got in.
“If you’re sure,” her voice was quiet, unsure. She didn’t want to force him—especially when he really was under no obligation now that her father wasn’t going to be there.
“M’sure,” he nodded closing her inside before going to his side.
Harry was all hers.
--
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…Sometimes Not (Part 6)
The Scars Still Follow Me Around
Song inspo: Don’t Hold Me - Dean Lewis
A/N: This is an au mini series to my Always You story. Thank you @burnsoslow for prereading! Please excuse any errors.
Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x OC (Reyna)
Rating: T • Warnings: None but some mild language.
Catch up here
“Are you all packed?”
Reyna looked at her phone that was propped up against the pillows on her bed. “Yeah,” she replied, patting the top of her suitcase. “I think I got everything.”
“Everyone is really excited you’re coming,” Liam chuckled. “When I told Maxwell, he was practically bouncing up and down.”
Reyna smiled. “It’s been a long time …”
Liam smiled in return. “Too long.”
In the few months since Liam and Reyna’s Paris run-in, the two had quickly fallen back into the friendship they once had. They resumed their video chats a few times a week and kept one another up to date on their day-to-day, playfully bantered and bickered, and laughed and joked, just like old times.
It was crazy how once that awkwardness ebbed away, it felt like no time at all had passed. They were back to the Liam and Reyna they were before they crossed that line … and that included her keeping her feelings for him hidden, just like she had before. Their past situation had gone unspoken about by either of them, seemingly brushed under the rug and ignored as though that part of their story never happened. He didn’t bring it up, so neither did she … but maybe that was for the best.
Liam had also been in New York a few times, and the pair had hung out like they always had before. Now, Reyna was preparing for a trip to Cordonia. It was Leo’s 30th birthday, and the Aldridge family had been invited to attend the ball being thrown in his honor. Liam had called to extend the invitation himself along with the offer to send the royal jet for them. Reyna smiled as she said she was looking forward to it … but behind that smile lingered some scars.
This trip to Cordonia would mark the first time Reyna had returned since Liam’s coronation ball, the last time she saw him before their reunion three years later; it would also be the first time she would see any of the Cordonian gang since then as well. Knowing she was going back there was proving to be more difficult than she thought it would be.
More than three years had passed, but Reyna’s upcoming visit brought to light unresolved feelings and issues that she hadn’t realized she held onto until now. And along with that was a simmering resentment she didn’t even know she carried.
“You ok?” Liam asked, pulling Reyna from the daze she’d fallen into.
“Yeah,” Reyna smiled as she looked at him through the screen. “Just tired. It is almost midnight here.”
“You can sleep on the flight over,” Liam said. “Also, I made sure the jet was stocked with all your favorite snacks.”
“And they say chivalry is dead,” Reyna chuckled.
Liam winked with a grin, then glanced at his watch. “Alright, I better shower and start my day. And you need to go meet your parents at the airport. I’ll see you later.”
Reyna smiled halfheartedly. “Can’t wait …”
****
A couple of hours later, high above the North Atlantic, Reyna stared down at her book, the words blurring together beneath the dim overhead cabin light. She couldn’t concentrate; the jet smelled of rich leather mixed with the lingering scent of Liam’s cologne. All she could think about was him … and her impending arrival in Cordonia.
“I’m surprised you’re not asleep,” Gideon said just above a whisper.
Reyna glanced over at him; he was sitting in the seat across from her, beside her sleeping mother. “Same to you.”
Gideon smiled. “So … what’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” Reyna replied with a shrug. “Just reading.”
Gideon gave her a look, and when Reyna furrowed her brows in question, he sighed. “If I didn’t know you as well as I do, the way you’ve been staring at the same page of that book for the last 45 minutes was a dead giveaway.”
Reyna sighed, closing the book and drumming her fingers against the cover. “This will be my first time back in Cordonia since … everything … and it just seems to be dredging up some stuff.”
“You and Liam are in a good place now,” Gideon said. “You can’t let what happened back then ruin what you just got back.”
“It’s not about Liam.” Not specifically. Reyna glanced over to meet her father’s gaze. “It’s the first time I’m going to see Leo …”
Gideon stared at her for a moment. “Ah,” he nodded in understanding.
“It’s been over three years and I … I didn’t know it even bothered me, but getting ready for this trip, knowing I was going to see him … it seems to have brought up this resentment I didn’t even know I had. All I can think about is what he did being the reason …” Reyna trailed off, shaking her head. “I know, it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Gideon said. “But holding a grudge isn’t going to change the past, Reyna.”
“I know,” Reyna sighed.
“Well … perhaps this trip will give you some closure you didn’t know you needed.” Gideon smiled sympathetically when she looked at him. “Try and get some rest.”
****
Much later, after his last meeting of the day, Liam hurried from his study and headed to the south wing to change; Reyna and her parents would be arriving soon. He’d filled his schedule with back-to-back meetings in hopes of helping him pass the time by staying occupied, but it didn’t do much in helping to keep him distracted.
Liam was excited for Reyna’s arrival, but a little on edge, wondering how her visit would affect the way he’d already been struggling. They were in a good place now and he didn’t want anything to ruin that, which is the reason he’d kept how he still felt about her to himself the past few months since their Parisian reunion.
It hadn’t been easy.
They had fallen so easily back into their old routine, and while Liam was enjoying having his best friend back in his life, every time he saw or spoke to Reyna, he was only reminded of all the reasons he’d fallen in love with her in the first place. Her bigger-than-life personality, her wit, her sense of humor, her brilliant smile and infectious laugh, her kind heart.
Holding those feelings in had been difficult, but there was one thing that helped Liam: the simple fact that he was terrified. He had just gotten Reyna back in his life and he didn’t want to do anything to risk losing her again. Sure, what they shared three years ago was without a doubt the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, but then everything went to hell and he lost his best friend because of it. And that was something they hadn’t even spoken about. They had talked about everything that had happened during those three years apart except the reason they had missed them. It was like it didn’t exist … like crossing that line and how they felt never happened. She didn’t bring it up, so neither did he … but that was probably for the best.
After changing, Liam rushed down to the foyer, having received a message from Bastien that the Aldridge clan had arrived. When he reached the top of the stairs, his eyes immediately fell on Reyna, standing with her parents while they spoke to his father and Regina; she glanced up, smiling when she saw him.
Liam descended the stairs and everyone turned their attention upon hearing him. “Your Majesty,” Gideon grinned.
“None of that,” Liam chuckled, shaking his hand before greeting Catherine with a kiss on her cheek. He then turned to Reyna, meeting her outstretched arms. “Hey, you,” he whispered; he hugged her tightly, inhaling her scent before stepping back. “It’s good to see you all. How was the flight?”
“Long,” Catherine chuckled.
“It’s a tiresome journey,” Constantine said.
“Oh yeah. Flying by private jet,” Gideon playfully rolled his eyes. “How grueling.”
Constantine chuckled and looked at Liam. “I was just saying how nice it is to have Reyna here again.” He glanced back at her, watching Liam sling his arm around her shoulder with a grin. “It’s been so long.”
Reyna smiled. “It has.”
“I couldn’t believe it when Liam told me he ran into you in Paris,” Constantine grinned.
Gideon coughed to conceal his laugh. “Yeah … small world.” He cut his eyes over to Constantine. “So, where’s Leo?”
Constantine chuckled at his quick change of subject. “He’ll be meeting us for dinner.” He looked at his watch. “Which will be in an hour. You should all get settled beforehand.”
Staff members appeared, grabbed Gideon’s and Catherine’s luggage, and headed up the stairs to the guest wing. “Come on,” Liam said as he grabbed Reyna’s bag. “You’re in the south wing with me.”
Reyna nodded, dropping his gaze as they turned toward the stairs; that wing — his wing — held so much history. It was where everything between them started … and where it ended.
“We’ll see you at dinner,” Constantine called out as they reached the top of the stairs; Liam lifted his hand in a wave of acknowledgement before they disappeared down the corridor.
When they entered the south wing, Liam started down the hall toward her room. As Reyna passed by the living area, she paused, hit with the memory of the last time she stood in there.
“I love you so much, Rey … and I wish that were enough. But things … they are different here.”
“So that’s it? Everything that we had … is just done and over … just like that? Like none of it ever happened … like none of it fucking mattered at all?”
“You matter. We matter, Reyna. We always have. I … didn’t cross that line … with the intention of us finishing here …”
“Rey?” Liam called out. She stiffened, blinking away the tears before continuing down the hall. His brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Reyna smiled. “Just jet lagged.”
Liam stepped inside her room, setting her bag down; she flopped down on the bed a moment later, and he chuckled as he laid on his side next to her, propping his head on his hand as she yawned. “You have time to rest before dinner.”
Reyna glanced at him. She wasn’t quite ready to see everyone. “Do you think we could have dinner up here, just us? We can hang out … maybe watch a movie?”
“Sure,” Liam nodded, not thinking anything of it; he knew she was probably tired. “No one will mind. What are you in the mood for?”
They stared at one another, both their mouths curling into smiles as they tried to read the other. “Pizza,” they chuckled. “Jinx.”
“I’ll call for it and let my father know we won’t be joining them,” Liam smiled as he rose from the bed.
*******
That night, after consuming two pizzas while watching some rom-com Reyna put on, Liam lay wide awake in bed. Not only was Reyna’s presence there keeping him awake, but the way she seemed off was as well. It could have been as simple as the jet lag like she said, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something else.
Once they decided to remain in the south wing for dinner, Reyna seemed fine; she was fine while they ate and watched their movie, talking and laughing with him the entire time. Then Leo called, asking if they wanted to meet up for drinks because he hadn’t seen her yet. Reyna’s demeanor shifted; she said she was tired and was going to go to bed.
Liam rolled to his side, letting out a breath. He wondered if just being there was hard for her … and if it was hard, was it because maybe … maybe she still felt — No. He scolded himself as he closed his eyes, pushing the thought far out of his mind.
*******
The following afternoon, with the palace abuzz with final preparations for that evening’s ball, Liam and Reyna strolled through the gardens.
Liam’s eyes slid to Reyna; she’d still been acting off. Any time he asked if she was ok, she said she was fine, but he wasn’t buying it. She opted for one of his omelets that morning instead of joining their families for breakfast and seemed to get lost in thought a few times while they walked through the palace afterward. It only made him question the thought he had last night that he was trying but failing to ignore.
When they came to the hedges at the entrance of the garden maze, Liam turned to her with an impish grin. “It’s been a while … how well do you think you remember?”
Reyna laughed knowingly. “I could find my way blindfolded.”
“Bold words,” Liam quipped.
“I’ll even give you a head start so I can’t follow, and I bet I still beat your royal ass to the center.”
Liam’s brow arched at her challenge. “You must love losing.” He turned and ran into the pathway.
Reyna laughed as she started after him, but then the memory of the last time she stood in that spot between the hedges made her freeze in place.
“I wish I could go back and change it, Liam … I wish I could take it all back, that entire summer. I regret all of it.”
“Don’t say that, Rey … you don’t mean that.”
“I do. Because at least if it never happened … you and I would still be friends. The exact fear that had kept us from crossing that line all these years … has now become a reality, Liam. A decade worth of friendship … it’s been ruined. And for what? Because in the end … none of it was worth it. It broke our friendship, and I can’t speak for you … but it broke me. And there’s no coming back from it … nothing between us will ever be the way that it was before we crossed that line.”
“I don’t hear you!” Liam’s voice singsonged in the distance. “Are you lost already?”
Pulled from the memory, Reyna shook her head and let out a shuddered breath before she started after him.
****
That evening, Leo’s birthday ball was well underway. Liam stared at Reyna from where he waited at the bar for a refill while she caught up with Maxwell and Olivia. Despite appearing to have a good time to everyone else, he knew her and could tell she was putting on a bit of a front. Something was bothering her, and he was pretty certain at that point that he was right in thinking that being there was hard for her. He’d finally pieced it together once he realized the significance of each place where she seemed to get lost in thought, including that ballroom; when they entered, she momentarily froze as if hit by a painful wave of nostalgia.
What Liam couldn’t figure out is what it meant, if anything at all.
While speaking to a group of friends across the ballroom, Leo spotted Reyna as she stepped away from Maxwell and Olivia and headed for the balcony. He excused himself from the group and started making his way toward her.
Like his brother, Leo was good at reading people, and it was obvious to him that Reyna had been avoiding him since her arrival. She’d skipped out on dinner the night before, declined to have drinks, skipped breakfast that morning, and had yet to even say hello to him that night. She was alone on the balcony now, however, and there was a long overdue conversation they needed to have.
Leo knew that his actions three years ago catalyzed Liam and Reyna’s downfall. What he did was the reason things between them had ended because Liam was suddenly faced with the duty and responsibility of the crown and all of the bullshit that went along with it. He’d heard over time from both his father and Liam about how Reyna was affected by everything that transpired after.
When Leo heard from Liam that the Aldridges were coming for his birthday celebration, he told himself then that he would talk to Reyna. It might be three years too late and there was a good chance she’d never forgive him, but he needed to at least try to give her the apology he had long since owed her. She may be his brother’s best friend, but Reyna was his friend, too; he also shared over a decade worth of memories with her, and she became the sister he never had.
Reyna stood on the balcony, letting the cool night air wash over her. As good as it had been to see some familiar faces that night, that was the last place she wanted to be. The moment she stepped inside the ballroom on Liam’s arm, the night of his coronation and watching him choose someone else flashed in her mind. She’d wanted to leave ever since. It was ridiculous, she knew, to allow the past to affect her this way, but it was as if her mind and heart were screaming for closure she wasn’t sure she’d ever truly get, not when it came to Liam anyway.
That trip only continued to remind Reyna of how unfinished they felt and probably always would, at least to her.
When Leo stepped outside, Reyna turned upon hearing him; he watched her shoulders slightly stiffen, but she smiled. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hi,” Reyna replied. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks,” Leo smiled as he came next to her.
“I was going to come find you later … once everyone stopped crowding around you,” Reyna lied.
“No worries,” Leo nodded, then looked at her. “How’s it feel to be back?”
Reyna glanced away from him. “It’s been fine.”
Leo sighed. “Listen, I, uh … I’m actually glad I caught you out here because there’s something I really need to say to you.” He let out a breath as she looked at him again. “I owe you one hell of an apology for everything that happened that summer you were here.”
Reyna was surprised he’d brought it up, but despite feeling the way she had been, she tried brushing it under the rug; she couldn’t bring herself to let him know it still bothered her. “That was three years ago,” she shook her head. “It’s in the past.”
“Is it?” Leo questioned, and she furrowed her brows. “Reyna, you’ve been avoiding me since you got here.” Guilt flashed across her face, and he shook his head. “I don’t blame you. We haven’t seen each other since that night, and I never gave you the apology you deserve. And I understand if you hate me because what I did back then was so fucked. I wish I could go back and change how I went about it, but I can’t. But I’m truly sorry for everything you had to go through and deal with because of what I did.”
Reyna stared up at him, and just like that, her resentment was snuffed out; his acknowledgment and genuine apology turned out to be exactly what she didn’t know she needed. Then, guilt of her own hit her. “I’m sorry, too … for avoiding you and not just talking about it. To be honest … I didn’t even know it bothered me until I was packing and it just … hit me that I was going to see you for the first time. Then all of these … feelings followed … and I didn’t really know how to go about dealing with them.”
“I get it,” Leo nodded. “I … I wasn’t thinking back then … at least not about anyone but myself. When I came back, Liam … boy did he let me have it.” He rubbed his jaw, remembering the crack of his brother’s fist across it that day. “He was so angry with me … and so broken. And then I heard from my father about how you had been … and I felt so guilty knowing I was the reason you both were hurting so much.”
Reyna let out a breath. “For what it’s worth … it wasn’t only your doing. I know I was to blame, too, for how certain things played out.”
Leo knitted his brows. “How are you to blame?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Reyna shook her head. “It really is in the past now,” she subtly smiled. “And if Liam can forgive you, I certainly can.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Leo scoffed. “It took him nearly a year to be close to normal with me again,” he chuckled. “But thank you … for your forgiveness. Honestly, it’s the best birthday present I could have asked for.” He held his arms out in an offer, and she smiled as she stepped forward and he pulled her into a hug. “By the way—” He squeezed her tightly before he stepped back “—It’s fucking good to have you back. Liam moped around this goddamn place for the last three years like you were his puppy someone dognapped.” Reyna snorted, but then her eyes slightly widened, darting from him to over his shoulder. Leo stiffened. “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?”
“Sure the fuck am,” Liam snapped. “Mind if I steal my puppy for a moment?”
Leo grimaced guiltily as Reyna laughed. “That’s my cue.” He gave her one last hug. “Thank you again,” he whispered before kissing her cheek. He turned, chuckling as he dodged out of the way of Liam’s fist aiming for his arm before disappearing inside.
Reyna met Liam’s gaze when he turned to her; she wondered about how much, if any, of that conversation he’d heard. He smiled at her, slipping his hands into his pockets. “How does continuing our age-old tradition of sneaking out sound?”
Reyna grinned. “Heavenly.”
“Not as heavenly as the burger, fries, and milkshakes I have waiting for us up in my wing,” Liam winked as he held out his hand. Reyna laughed as she took it, and he led her off the balcony.
****
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
Reyna giggled as she stared down at Liam; his head was in her lap with a white bowed microfiber headband keeping his hair back from the facial mask she had painted on him. “Open,” she chuckled.
Liam complied, parting his lips to be fed a French fry. When she pulled the cucumber peels off his eyes, he fluttered them open, staring up at her with a deadpan expression as he chewed, which only made her laugh harder.
“Your face is gonna be so purrty,” Reyna snorted.
“I’m already purrty,” Liam scoffed, finally cracking a smile when she laughed again.
They’d come to the south wing and consumed their burgers, milkshakes, and most of their fries before she talked him into letting her give him a facial. He waited, wondering if she’d bring up the conversation she had with Leo … one he’d partially overheard. He couldn’t take it anymore, though; there was a question burning inside him about something she said that he needed an answer to.
“So … I, uh … I heard you talking to Leo on the balcony,” Liam said tentatively.
The smile faltered from Reyna’s lips. “How much did you hear?”
“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I was coming to get you to make our getaway … and I heard him apologizing.”
“Yeah,” Reyna nodded.
Liam continued to stare at her. “I think it’s good that he did … and I know he appreciates you forgiving him. You didn’t hear it from me, but he was a little nervous about you coming,” he smiled ruefully.
Reyna chuckled. “Lil’ old me?”
“Please,” Liam snorted. “I’ve seen you mad. You may be small, but you’re scrappy when you want to be.”
“It’s part of my New York charm,” Reyna quipped.
“Well … I’m glad to know things between you two are back to normal, but …” Liam hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Can I ask you something?” He held her gaze as she nodded. “Why do you blame yourself?”
Reyna took in a deep breath and slowly let it out; she knew it was coming the moment he’d mentioned he overheard. Her fingers brushed against his temples as she adjusted the headband in order to distract herself long enough to come up with something plausible, but the truth came out before she could. “I wasn’t there,” she said in a cracked whisper. “Your dad gave you … gave us … a way, and when you came for me, I wasn’t there. Because I wasn’t coping like a normal person. I had hit rock bottom … and I wasn’t there.”
“Rey …” Liam sat up and turned to face her. “It’s not on you.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he stared at her misty eyes. “Ok, well … you admitted that you blame yourself, so I suppose I should admit …” That I’m still so in love with you and never stopped. “So do I. It remains the biggest regret of my life … and I’m certain it always will be.”
Reyna’s brows knit. “What does?”
“That I didn’t fight harder … for you to stay … for us … to find you when I came to New York. I should have fought harder.”
“Liam …” Reyna shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”
“And it’s not yours,” Liam retorted. “It was … it was circumstance, Rey. Do I wish things had been different? Yes, more than anything …” A flash of something flickered in her gaze. Hope? He shook the thought; it wasn’t that. He cleared his throat, needing to mask his mistake. “Because, at the least, we wouldn’t have lost those three years. But taking the blame … that isn’t going to change any of it.” She nodded, knowing he was right. “So how about no more blaming ourselves? Deal?”
Reyna smiled. “Deal.”
“So … is that all that’s been on your mind?”
The way in which he asked Reyna told her he already knew the answer. She should have seen it coming based on the way he kept catching her lost in her musings and asking if she was ok each time. It didn’t matter that they had those three years apart; he still knew her better than anyone, even better than she knew herself most of the time.
“I just …” Reyna shifted her gaze from his, letting out a breath mixed with a wry laugh. “It’s my first time back since …” She trailed off, not needing or wanting to say it. “And I just keep remembering things …”
Liam nodded in genuine understanding. “I get it … I live here, so I really get it.” He had three years to get used to the memories constantly invading him. No matter where he went inside his own home, remnants of their relationship lingered everywhere, good and bad. “But maybe now that you’ve had this first visit and things are better … it’ll be easier next time … if there is a next time.”
Reyna smiled at him. “There’ll be a next time.”
“Good,” Liam smiled in return.
It wasn’t the whole conversation, but the past was somewhat acknowledged, so it would be enough. At the least, they knew that it wasn’t simply forgotten by the other.
As they stared at one another, however, those lingering confessions were on the tips of their tongues, that their past was still very much their present and they both felt the same way now as they did back then.
Neither was willing to put their friendship at risk again, however … so they swallowed the words.
After a moment, with him still staring at her with such genuine affection, Reyna’s head tilted to the side as her smile grew and a chuckle escaped her.
“What’s so funny?” Liam asked.
“I’m having a hard time taking you seriously right now,” Reyna giggled.
Liam’s brows furrowed, but then he watched her gaze flicker up to the bowed microfiber headband he’d forgotten he was wearing; he rolled his eyes with a good-natured grin as she laughed. “Get this shit off my face,” he chuckled as he turned, laying back and resting his head in her lap again.
“You love it,” Reyna smiled down at him. “Ok, but wait …” She grabbed her phone and twisted her upper body, bringing her face down next to his; holding her phone above them, she snapped a photo. “Ok,” she chuckled as she sat up. She took two facial pads, gently wiping his face clean. “There.”
Liam opened his eyes to meet her gaze, and he stared up at her. She started to lean down, and for a moment his heart shot to his throat in anticipation, but then she rested her forehead against his.
“Thank you,” Reyna whispered.
“For what?”
“Knowing me … and knowing I needed to get away and talk.”
Lifting his arm, Liam rested his hand on the back of her neck. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”
***************************************
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-Flood me like Atlantic-
Chapter 8
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: cursing, talks of injury, talks of homelessness, there’s a general 18+ content warning for this entire series and it does get a tiny bit interesting at the end here. Yearning Vessel gets his own warning.
“I got you a present.”
“Oh yeah? What is it?”
The little girl smiled, raking up a fistful of sand.
“It’s a surprise, silly.” She said. The breeze was blowing her hair, and Vessel smiled as she pulled it out of her sweet little eyes. “For your birthday.”
He remembers the smell of the ocean, the sound of the grey waves crashing on the shore. He remembers sitting there for hours with her, watching the tide come in as the sun made its journey behind the clouds.
He chuckled. “Aw heck, you didn’t have to do that.” There was a big smile creeping up on his face. “…Do I get a hint?”
“Well, mom paid for it, but I picked it out.” She said, yanking up a few pieces of grass poking through the grout. “and no.” She made a zipper across her mouth, beaming up at him with specks of sand scattered on her pink cheeks. “My lips are sealed!”
“Hey, Vessel.”
Vessel looks up from the pan he’s scrubbing, turning on the faucet to rid it of the suds. The water soaks into the cuffs of his hoodie.
“Hm?”
IV stands beside him casually, shrugging the leather jacket he performed in over his good shoulder.
“I’m heading into town. Anything I can get for you?”
Vessel sets the pan down on the drying rack, hands spidering a little desperately over the pile of dirty dishes in search of his next target. “Oh, no thanks,” he says, blinking at the guitarist’s reflection in the window then immediately looking down when his is in the pane too. He still looks tired, eyes bloodshot and hollow. Almost like he’d been nearly sacrificed and since possessed by an anonymous deity.
“You uh, driving?” He asks, glancing over at the man’s broken arm. An unprecedented wave of guilt comes over him, and he swipes his nose on his shoulder with a sniff. The sunlight is pouring in through the dusty window and it makes eye contact feel doubly impossible. But IV just shrugs, stuffing his hand in his jean pocket and shuffling a ring of keys.
“Aye, I’m the only one up here with a license. But I don’t mind, going to the grocery is pretty much a special interest at this point. You sure I can’t get you anything? Swing by your house for some clothes?”
It amuses Vessel that there’s an unspoken understanding that he’s staying. It would be sweet, if there wasn’t also the underlying idea that he doesn’t actually have a choice. But then again, he doesn’t have anywhere else that he should be, much less a house. He wonders if they can tell. If the inability to pay another night's rent at that damn motel is as plain as the bandage on his face. God, he wants his keyboard.
Out of anything in the world, he’d take those keys under his fingers.
“I’m fine, honestly. I can take a cab to the motel lat-“
“You’re staying in a motel?”
A horrendous blush creeps up his neck, and he dumps a plate on the rack hard enough to make him wince. “I’m… temporarily a bit displaced?”
There’s not a whole lot to read on IV’s face. He just absorbs information, then says some contemplated thing in return. But out of pity or surprise, there’s something closer to concern in his eyes.
“…You got a job, mate?”
There’s a silence longer than III’s fucking legs, and maybe twice as insufferable as the man himself. Even now Vessel can hear him in the next room, quietly muttering over his collection of herbs and spell-making equipment in an attempt to guard against whatever “bullshit the cat dragged in.” II is watching the tv, sipping a soda and giggling at whatever's on the discovery channel.
Vessel’s big eyes finally gather the strength to look up in the window, mouth twitching as he meets IV’s own.
“…I sing.”
And that’s what he does.
That’s how that day passes, and the next, and the next… at first, he’s nervous. Just settles on the edge of the couch to watch the three of them take positions, falling into the flow of practice as easy as a stream into the sea. II looks about as at home behind his drum set as a tree in the woods. Vessel has never seen so much cohesion between a person and their instrument, and it fills his gut with an almost jealousy, seeing something so flawless performed with such ease.
IV forgoes his guitar, obviously. But he still brings a lot to the performance by presence and a few vocals alone. II wasn’t kidding when he said the man could scream. The sound scratches Vessel's ears so gorgeously, he could legitimately start crying.
And then there’s III.
He stands front and center, that same flowery jacket on his shoulders. He looks concentrated. In tune. And yet there’s an ease that rolls off of him so fabulously it can’t help but feel like a subtle challenge.
Vessel watches his fingers move over the strings, rings glinting in the grey-ish light of the foggy forest.
And he feels… something.
He watches them play for an hour before II begs him to join. There’s something in those blue eyes that is undeniable, no matter how out of place he feels. And soon there is a mic stand in front of him, adjusted about three levels higher than he found it.
“Bring Me to Life.” III mutters. And without a piano, the first sounds are nothing but a few chords plucked by his nimble fingers.
The challenge is no longer subtle.
Vessel rocks on his heels, fingers splaying delicately down the side of the mic stand before gripping it low and still for his mouth to caress.
“How can you see into my eyes…”
A very quiet “oh hooo” of impending excitement comes from somewhere behind the drum set, and Vessel smiles.
“…like open doors?”
IV’s screams of “I can’t wake up” ring in all of their ears for several days, so intense it’d be funny if not so impressive. They played for hours that day, only pausing to brew a few cups of III’s jasmine rose tea. II was right; it tasted like ass. And yet in that room, sweaty from pouring his soul into a mic and surrounded by those three, passionate freaks of the industry, he realized he was almost happy. His smile, for the first time in years, wasn’t something he willed onto his face. And if he could hang on forever to the feeling of discovering a smile instead of creating it he would.
II tells him goodnight without any prompting. Just smiles at him, and says it as easy as breathing, before heading off into one of three doors lining the hallway.
IV likes him too. He gets a few changes of clothes and a brand new toothbrush from him, and even shares an intelligent conversation about guitars once Vessel mentions that he likes to play, too. Most of his feeling is in his eyes, he’s realized. They have a way of sparkling and harboring what might be big smiles in another case when he’s intrigued or at peace. The only person who gets him to really smile, is II; When the drummer is curled up in a tiny ball on the couch with his cup of “tea” or going absolutely manic on the drums, closing his eyes and getting carried off in the rhythm.
Even III smiles then.
But not once has he ever smiled at Vessel.
Vessel goes to sleep one night, thinking about it.
What would it feel like to have III’s approval? It’s clear at this point that he’ll never make the guy happy. He resents him too much for that. And yet, he did save his life. Shouldn’t that be good enough?
Vessel doesn’t like him very much, he’s decided. Especially when after belting his heart out at the man’s command he doesn’t even get a “well done”, or a “thank you” when Vessel made a mug of that nasty fucking tea and brought it to him after practice. He just nods his head and half-way looks at him; because at the end of the day, Vessel isn’t worth his attention.
And it makes his face red as a beet.
The moon is pouring in through the window. It’s been a week since it was full, and lighting up the forest outside with him in it. The cuts on his belly seem to be healing well, and he’s planning to take the bandage off his head tomorrow and see what the hell that’s all about.
Why won’t III approve of him?
He turns over on his back, looking up at the ceiling.
“You really are amazing.” II’s voice echoes in his head from earlier in the day, when he was cutting up some apples in the kitchen. “We’re all lucky bastards to have a singer like you messing around with us. Talk to III, we’ve got a gig coming up next week and I don’t know if we’d be half as good without ya!”
His eyes flutter as the darkness becomes staticy, rimmed on the left by faint moonlight and quiet as a grave with the whole house asleep. He thinks about II’s words. Is he in a band? If not, what’s he been doing up here all this time?
He’s not sure he can look at another crowd. Another waiting, patient collection of faces staring at his own until he does something impressive. Until the night goes on and terrible things have a chance to happen.
He shudders hard and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Can he sing for people?
For me.
A voice speaks somewhere between his mind and his eyelids.
Sing for me.
“I can scream loud enough, for you.” His mouth wraps around the words, muttering them softly with hardly a sound. His tongue darts out on his lip.
He really does love singing with bass.
His hand slips under his hoodie, spreading delicately over the bandages decorating him. His fingers are cold against his hot skin, searing between the pieces of himself and what III taped to him. It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.
His fingers travel down, grazing softly over the faintest of trails till they touch the band of III’s sweatpants.
God, he’s annoyed. He’s a good singer. Why isn’t he good enough for everyone? Why doesn’t that prick of a bassist say thank you when he makes him tea?
“I can scream loud enough...”
His fingertips push past the elastic, the slightest of tremors in his big hands for no reason he feels like guessing. He didn’t realize until right now how aroused he is by nothing in particular. It’s simply been too long, he thinks. Too long since he created release for all the sounds in his mind.
“…for you.”
For me.
“…Yes.”
After only a few minutes his eyes shoot wide open, full of pleading and hate as he cups a hand over his mouth and bites down hard enough to muffle a scream.
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lost again.
bang chan x f!reader
genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship
warnings: use of pet names, heavy themes; ed, drugs/drug abuse, depression, mentions of OD, mentions of recovery and relapse (please lmk if i missed something!!)
a/n: hey guys, i’m really sorry for disappearing for so long i haven’t been doing the best and couldn’t write at all but anyways, this fic is kinda very personal to me and it's very heavy so pls check out the warnings!! i wrote partly based off of my own experiences, so i'm really sorry if anything is off.
wc:~1k
reblogs and/or feedback are greatly appreciated!!
song rec!!
partly proofread(?)
it’s not real.
none of this is real. none of it is.
that’s what she tried to convince herself, over and over again.
all the late nights she laid in bed, bloodshot eyes wide open,
every time she was hunched over the toilet, shoving her fingers up her throat,
whenever she passed out from overexertion or malnourishment, or when both got her at the same time,
each time she swallowed whatever pills she had on hand at the moment.
all these times she’d just imagine herself to be a character in a book. someone in a story. a story that isn’t real.
except for the part it is, and that story is her life.
she never thought she’d actually ever get this far. she always told herself that she still had control over her mind and body, that she always will, even now. she doesn't believe that she’s sick, or at least not enough and when you convince yourself that you’re only faking it all for long enough, you’ll eventually start to actually believe it and you’ll only want to get worse and worse. whether it’s to prove something to yourself or the rest of the world, you won’t really know anymore.
it’s not like anyone ever really cared anyways, so she might as well go as far as she needs to be satisfied. little does she know, she’ll never be.
when he came into her life, everything she had tried to convince herself of before almost vanished. it all started feeling too real. she started feeling things she had never felt before.
guilt was the main thing.
she’d been messed up for the longest time, yet she can’t recall a single time she felt guilty about ruining herself or her life. but when he came along and started showing her what it’s like to have someone that genuinely cares, it was then, that it truly hit her, that all she ever wanted was to feel needed, cared about. even if it was just for a moment.
and chris, he gave her that and so much more. most importantly though, he stayed. he made a promise to always stay and never broke it, no matter how hard she tried to push him away sometimes.
he was the only constant, the only good thing, in her life. he even gave her the courage to attempt recovery, but if it only took one person, if it only was that easy, she would’ve done it already. she relapsed and tried again countless times. not once did he give up on her, nor did he force her to do anything. he just encouraged her to give it a chance, if she relapsed, he'd be right by her side, keeping his promise.
she watched him break, over and over again, because of her and it just made it all harder, made her hate herself more than she ever has. but chris never blamed her. he believed that the day they’ll both finally be fine will come. be it sooner or later, one thing he’s sure about is he’ll never give up on her.
-
the clock reads 5:32am as chris gets home from the studio. he enters the shared appartement and slips his shoes off. all the lights are off, except for the bathroom light. the door is wide open and he’s scared to look inside, possibilities of what could’ve happened racing through his mind. as he steps in, he takes a deep breath to calm his shaking body at the sight; there she was, sitting on the floor, leaned against the bathtub, either asleep or unconscious. chris was praying it was the former as he walked over to the girl.
“y/n? hey, baby?”, he shakes her a little and her eyes flutter open.
he lets out a sigh of relief as he takes her into his arms. it wasn’t the first time chris had found her like this, although the other times did have far worse outcomes.
when he feels her tears soak through his shirt, he pulls away to cup her face and look into her eyes.
her beautiful eyes that never failed to make him fall in love with her all over again.
“chris, i’m tired,” she takes a deep breath before she can continue, “i’m sick and tired of feeling like this, chris,”, “of living like this.” she chokes out and tears run down her cheeks, more than before. chris wipes the tears before they can get far, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“i know, love,” he whispers.
“it’s not easy.” her voice is weak and barely audible, but chris knows that this is a cry for help and he’s going to do anything it takes to help her.
“do you want to try again?” chris asks softly and she knows exactly what he means. silence fills the room again for a while, until she lets out a soft “yeah.”
she’s been there. she had tried to recover and stay clean countless times before with no success, she knows what it’s like. but something felt different this time.
chris felt it too.
he’d been with her through all of her tries, and he’ll stay for endless more, if it meant she’ll be fine in the end.
but he prays, to whoever was listening, that this feeling doesn’t betray him. them.
that this time will be the one.
that the day they’ll both be alright will come sooner than later.
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HER| Park Jimin 박 지민
Based on the song “HER” by Chase Atlantic
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Chapter Four
4 years later
"How are you feeling today, Dr. Deung?" one of the girls working at the reception asked.
I blew my nose, and sighed, "Better than yesterday. My nose is still kind of blocked, though,"
The girl shook her head, "You should go home and rest. The doctors here will take over and will do just fine!"
Ever since I opened my clinic, I have never missed a day of work, no matter what. The clinic is my baby. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into making it a perfect environment for patients.
I picked the best doctors, the best employees, the best equipment, and the best furniture to make sure it was presentable and perfect. I don't want anything to go wrong here, which is why I never miss a day of work. It's not that I don't trust the doctors; it's just that I've grown attached to this clinic a lot, and so I don't want to leave it at all.
"I know. I believe in them, but I don't want to miss a day of work," I pouted.
The woman chuckled, "You're such a workaholic, Dr. Deung."
I smiled, shaking my head as I gave up on trying to resist any efforts of not working. My employees are talented, and I know they'll do fine without me. I won't be able to focus well while I'm sick, either. So, I guess it's essential for me to skip at least a day of work.
"Fine, I'm going to get moving now. Take care of the clinic for me, will you?" I asked.
The girl smiled, "Of course, doctor! Now, go home and rest!"
The man got shoved roughly by someone, scoffing over having to deal with this yet another day. He got sick of having to deal with those envious and shrewd men.
The two guys walking with the man that pushed him laughed as they found it amusing. They loved pestering him when they had the chance. They didn't understand how could he be able to suddenly demote their positions at work and take over the top spot when he only joined their company two years ago.
They all resented him, and he knew it. He didn't care, though. All he cared about was the great opportunity he managed to earn. He was happy he was finally able to make his dream job a reality. He wasn't going to let a bunch of petty men ruin that for him.
"By the way, what happened to your bag? You should totally get that fixed, man," one of the men said.
This seemed to halt him in his steps as he turned and faced them with a scowl, "Seriously? You guys are so immature. Do better."
He walked past them as he hurriedly went to the changing room and found his bag ripped to shreds, alongside the stuff inside of it.
He let his anger rise as he threw his now-torn bag across the room. He didn't know it was possible for people to still act so pathetically stupid during this age. This was literally child's play.
He was frustrated. He didn't want his hard work to be tarnished by a bunch of children like them. He didn't go through all of this for nothing...
A man gasped as he suddenly woke up from his dream. He was sweating profusely. His chest was heaving from the events he recalled in his dream.
Indeed, this was a flashback. A flashback he didn't like to be reminded of. His mind, though, had other plans as it enjoyed plaguing him with his past memories.
The memories that he wouldn't like to remember.
He grabbed the cup of water that was on his bedside table and gulped it. He looked at the clock beside him and groaned, hitting his head back on the pillow. It was three in the morning, and he wasn't able to sleep again despite being tired.
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and attempted to pass time by scrolling mindlessly through social media apps. Still, he wasn't able to sleep again.
He finally acknowledged that he couldn't continue like this. He needed to face his problems.
The man entered the clinic, looking around at the beautiful interior design. Even though he was aware that he was at a clinic, the scenery there provided him a sense of comfort, oddly enough.
He went to the reception and cleared his throat, "Excuse me; I have an appointment with Dr. Kang."
One of the women at the reception's eyes' widened at the sight of the man. He was truly a sight to see. Coughing, she looked at him and asked, "Your name, sir?"
As he told her his name, she searched through the system and indeed found his name. There was only a certain problem, though.
"Dr. Kang is currently unavailable, but your appointment will be with Dr. Deung, the owner of the clinic," she informed him.
He couldn't care less who was going to be his doctor. He just wanted to get done with this. He indeed wanted to get help, but he wasn't so keen on going to a psychiatrist. It made him feel like he wasn't sane, which he knew he was.
"Dr. Deung will be meeting you shortly. For now, you can take a seat," one of the receptionists smiled.
He nodded, taking a seat in the waiting room as he decided to continue admiring the clinic. What grabbed his attention the most were the paintings. They told a story. Every single one of them. The colors in particular were mesmerizing. The details as well were so intricate in the paintings.
They were truly beautiful. He could tell this artist is immensely talented. The paintings were worthy of being displayed at an art gallery or a museum.
"Dr. Deung will be seeing you now. Please follow me," the other receptionist announced.
The man nervously walked behind the receptionist. He didn't know what to expect from this. This was his first time, after all.
The receptionist knocked on the door and opened it. She gestured for the man to enter. He bowed to her and thanked her, entering the room.
"Ah, hello there. Please take a seat and be as comfortable—" the woman got up and smiled before her breath hitched.
She gulped, staring at the man intensely as she murmured, "professor Park?"
If she was surprised, then Park Jimin was even more shocked to see her. He knew that she owned a clinic, but he didn't presume it would be this one. He didn't expect her to be so—grown. She didn't age, yet she looked more mature. She became prettier, too. Her hair was longer and darker. He liked it that way. Despite all of the positive changes, he could still tell she wasn't completely happy with life. He could recognize this look anywhere, especially now.
"Miss Deung? I certainly didn't expect to see you here," he laughed.
After regaining her composure, Kyung-Mi smiled, "Neither have I. Please, take a seat."
She couldn't stop staring at him. He looked the same as he did two years ago.
The only difference is that his hair is now silver instead of black. She was mesmerized by his beauty. He looked ethereal. Yet, his eyes were different. They told a different story. A story of agony and pain.
"So, you opened a clinic? That's very impressive, Miss Deung," Jimin complimented.
Kyung Mi replied, "Yeah, I did. It's been a long ride, but definitely a good one. What about you, sir? How's it going with the university?"
"Please, call me Jimin. No need for the formalities since you're not my student anymore," he said.
She hesitantly nodded, still feeling like Jimin is her professor. It just felt wrong to say his name with no formalities or honorifics. It's even weirder that he could potentially be her patient for a while.
She has to be professional, though. No matter what, he's now her patient. She needs to help him and live up to her clinic's reputation. She needs to do her job well, as usual.
"And to answer your question, I don't work at the university anymore. I left shortly after you graduated. Instead, I became a dancer. Well, I was a dancer," Jimin continued, murmuring the last part.
He was fidgeting in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable discussing this topic. However, he wouldn't have come here if he didn't want to face this issue. She was determined to help him.
"Why did you stop?" She inquired.
He gulped, breathing heavily, "I-uh-I had an injury. Achilles tendinitis, to be exact. Thankfully, the surgery went well, and so did the physical therapy. However, if I injure myself again, I won't be able to dance anymore. My career is at risk as of now, and I can't seem to bring myself to dance again."
He sighed, looking at her again to see her listening intently. She didn't give him a look of pity, nor frowned at him. It made him feel better. Lately, that's all he has been receiving from people. Pity. He loathed it. It made him feel weak and powerless.
But she made him feel normal. She didn't make him feel this way. He stared at her intense gaze as he took it as a sign to keep going, "Ever since then, I would have reoccurring nightmares, or more so flashbacks, about my time spent at the dancing company. My colleagues weren't very fond of me. They resented me for climbing the ranks quickly, even though I was just a newbie. They gave me a difficult time there. It was like high school all over again. I'm still haunted by what they had done."
She nodded with every word he uttered, giving him her utmost attention. In the back of her mind, she was stunned by the information Jimin gave her. She thought that he was still a professor; she was surprised over how things can change greatly over two years.
Her once bright and cheerful professor is now a dull dancer who's dealing with trauma. It pained her to see this. Every patient's story truly pained her, but this one was different since she knew him on a personal level.
As he was done with his explanation, he sighed, feeling some of his frustration leave his body. Still, that didn't help his mental and emotional state. He just felt glad that he finally spilled his emotions to someone. Someone who just so happens to be a student of his.
She softly smiled at him and said, "Jimin, you're much closer to getting recovered from all of this than you think. It takes a lot of guts to finally face your problems, and you did just that by coming to me today. It won't be an easy journey, and I know you're tired of dealing with all those mishaps; but trust me, it will be worth it in the end. Life tends to hit us hard at times, but we eventually pick ourselves up, don't we? We can still go through another day, don't we? What you have gone through is a lot, that's for sure. Needless to say, I'll make sure I'll be able to help you find yourself again and get through this."
Jimin's eyes slightly watered, looking at her as he took in a big breath, "I trust you, Dr. Deung."
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Pillow Talk
Summary: While Y/N spends some time away, she and Arthur find a way to play.
Words: 3,992
Warnings: Smut, Swearing
A/N: This story stems from a request made by @jokerownsmysoul. I really hope I got it right. 😂 Please enjoy, everyone! And thank you for reading! 💜
If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!
Y/N's happiness at attending the Atlantic Legal Society's conference had rubbed off on Arthur. Made her upcoming absence worth it.
Often he'd tag along, see the sights while she worked. Check out clubs, sign up for open mics where no one would ever see him again. Low-risk refinement. But this week's jobs were too good to pass up, and Amusement Mile's opening day meant lots of families and plenty of tips.
He could hold down the apartment. Hell, maybe he'd even enjoy it. Pour condensed milk over frozen strawberries, smoke as much as he wanted, catch a movie on Gothamvision. (When their rabbit ears had required aluminum foil to get a TV signal, he'd convinced her cable was a dire need.)
He wrapped an apple in a paper towel, tore a banana from the bunch, and stuck both in her purse. A breakfast that'd tide her over for the three-hour ride to Baltimore. Stirring milk into her coffee, he side-eyed the oven clock. When the java was halfway cold, he made his way to the bathroom.
Toes flexed in annoyance, Y/N grumbled around her toothbrush. "I can't believe I overslept."
"You'll get there," he said, and took the hairbrush from the shelf. "Here, let me." He drew horsehair bristles through her untamed mane.
"Thanks." The foam in her mouth made it sound more like fankhs. She spat into the sink, rinsed and spat again. "I don't want to buy another ticket."
A soft scowl crossed his brow. "You shouldn't've had to buy the first."
"Well, you know my boss. He didn't think it was necessary, which is silly with the WARN act being passed. That kind of ridiculousness makes me want Phil to come out of retirement." She hung her robe on the door hook and jogged to the bedroom, calling over her shoulder. "At least they're paying me!"
Minutes later Y/N emerged, frazzled around the edges but smart. She straightened a ruffle at her collar, tugged the corner of her blazer. She wore her age and era with pride. She guzzled her coffee like an engine on empty, poured herself another and skipped the dairy. "I'll regret this on the train."
They dashed to the elevator, vinyl suitcase in his grasp, her hand hooked at his elbow. As the steel doors parted, he made a show of holding them open with his foot. A beam to rival the rising sun crossed her face.
"Thank you, sir," she said, and curtsied. The gesture made him want to lift her, spin around. They were running late - and she'd still taken a spare second to be playful.
God, how he loved her.
At this early hour, only a handful of Gothamites rode the subway. A guy sat in a corner seat. Sixty, gray stubble, wearing a flat leather cap. His outstretched arm held a wrinkled centerfold. Ms. December, judging by the Santa Hat, the sole fabric in the photo. A familiar friend that must've been in his pocket for a while.
Y/N grasped the stanchion at the other end of the car. Arthur moved to stand behind her, a protective arm at her waist.
At every stop she inched towards him. Her round bottom nudged his thighs, her back grazed his chest. She smelled good, like the strawberries he'd eat tonight. He pressed his nose to the crown of her head, filled his veins with her scent.
A scarlet stripe bloomed from collarbone to temple, her ear a crimson shell. The corner of her mouth threatened to curl. Pink tongue darting to wet satin lips.
He squeezed her hip. "What is it?"
"It's nothing," she said. An obvious untruth given how her neck tightened.
Suspicion slanted his stare. But he let it lie. For now.
Wayne Central Station was a Beaux-Arts beauty smack dab in the middle of modernization and commercialization. And it had far too many flights of stairs. After the ups and downs of finding the right track, they landed on thirty-seven, the platform for the commuter line.
"You know," Y/N said, steps slowing to an amble. "I bet there are clown conferences. You could learn to juggle."
His days of working with other clowns were long behind him. But the suggestion was sweet, so he smiled. "My hands are already busy. You're a handful."
She stopped at a concrete column and riffled through her purse. "I'll call you when I check-in and give you the room number. There'll be a direct line." Then her riffling escalated to a frantic search. Patting her coat, the inner breast pocket. Checking her bag one more time. Taking advantage of her distraction, Arthur reached into his jacket. Anticipation tickled his shoulders into a shrug.
"Oh no," she said. "I could've sworn I put my ticket with my credit card."
He reached as if to tuck her hair back. Pulled a green card from behind her ear. "Is this it?" A relieved huff as she snatched her prize. She swatted his chest, wound her arms about his neck.
The squeal of metal on metal bounced off tile walls, announcing the oncoming train. A gust of wind whirled her silvery brown locks. Despite the mundanity of it all, the thousands of people about to step onto public transportation, the moment felt like a movie. A bona fide blockbuster. The ordinary suddenly extraordinary.
Fingers brushing his, she took her bag, speaking between kisses. "I love you. We'll talk soon."
~~~~~
The McKeldin Exhibition Center seemed a blunt, bulky building for the Atlantic Legal Society's twenty-fifth conference, a number Y/N would've considered celebratory. Four stories of concrete, cold steel, muscular exterior. A once modern design that now represented an idea of the future that, if the first five months of 1990 were to go by, wasn't bound to happen.
The registration attendants were friendly and professional. But Y/N wasn't a member of the guild, so she was directed to a line at the other end of a vast, airy hall. The additional hundred dollars she'd paid to attend included extra exercise. A gilded stripe ran along the top of her name tag, like she was a flake of gold to pan for, from which extract a membership fee.
Goodie bags contained the usual swag. A pen with the organization's logo, two legal pads, a folder to hold her notes. At the bottom were a blue stress ball and a gavel pinback button, which she'd pin on Sylvia back at the office. The young intern had received so little recognition in her short life that it'd thrill her.
White tablecloths and serving trays covered the tables in the reception area. Y/N maneuvered to a buffet to the right, snapped a napkin, two cheese and pepperoni skewers, and a paper cup of goldfish crackers. Munching away, she took the temperature of the room.
Lawyers and attorneys general, magistrates and judges swarmed, chatting and laughing, giving handshakes and back slaps. Legal secretaries and paralegals circled up to chat amongst themselves. Judging by overheard introductions, their origins stretched from the Eastern Seaboard all the way to Chicago.
Y/N recognized a former Gotham District Attorney, a lawyer from one of Shaw & Associates' satellite offices. The passing years had salt and peppered his hair, too. The city's newest criminal court judge was on the premises, one Henry Jake. An upset after an affair with one of his legal aides, his promotion from magistrate had been splashed on all the front pages.
He appeared eager to continue the scandal, proceeding to flirt in the way of men who like to wield their authority. A palm on the forearm here, an unwanted compliment there. It made Y/N want to chuck a stress ball at his head.
She stirred powdered creamer and irritation into a styrofoam cup of coffee, noted the restroom sign on the left wall. A woman in a floral shower curtain of a dress approached with tiny steps. Said she'd never been to a big city before, took a sip of Lipton and pushed her plastic glasses up the bridge of her nose.
"I'm Flossie Barteux, but all my friends call me Flo." The red stripe on her nametag denoted her as a fresh recruit.
"Nice to meet you, Flossie." Though maintaining distance, Y/N spoke with warmth. "I moved from the Ozarks to Gotham ten years ago. The lobby has some brochures. I think there's an aquarium on the waterfront, a couple museums, too. You should take advantage while you're in town." Then she gave a friendly nod and excused herself to the Industry Auditorium to sign up for presentations.
Whistleblower protections sounded interesting, considering past capers; she made a note to review Gotham's statutes for the next. Tips for wage and hour investigations filled an entire notebook. The presenter droned on in one agonizingly long sentence. It was impossible to keep up, even in shorthand. Y/N's fingers grew so fatigued she dropped her pen. It took several tries to regain the ability to make a fist.
When the conference broke for the evening, Flossie hopped in the same revolving door as Y/N and suggested dinner at a chain steakhouse across the street. A good number of attendees already stood in line.
To be honest, she could've used a break from the whole thing. But she didn't want to hurt the woman who sorely needed a work friend. She put their names on the waitlist and browsed chalkboard specials. Listened to Flossie's story of how going through probate for custody of her granddaughter had led her to the legal profession.
By the time Y/N stumbled back to her hotel, she could've dozed upright. At the bar, she ordered a variation on a Sidecar, a little number called Between the Sheets. She didn't ask for permission to take it to her room. She dropped a dollar bill in the tip jar and turned towards the lobby.
It was well equipped, a fax machine and pay phone in one corner, a stand with free chocolate chip cookies to the right. In the center of the far wall stood a bookshelf, flanked by overstuffed aqua chairs. A sign was propped on the coffee table: "Please read and return!" A set worthy of Donahue's photo studio.
She stepped onto the woven rug to browse the plethora of outdated bestsellers. Self-helps with mountains on the covers, charlatans offering poor financial advice. Children's books were piled haphazardly on the bottom shelf. And right in the middle was an entire row of romance novels, the ones in which every heroine's bosom heaved and bodice ripped. Ragged covers told the tale of how popular they were, spines split from overuse. As a pre-teen, Mabel had caught her reading a few. ("Why's your face red, Y/N? Are you sick?") Amused, Y/N took the one with the deepest seams.
Forbidden Seas was a terrible if fitting title, given the coverhunk's puffy shirt. He was alarmingly muscular, as though a bee had stung him, and he desperately needed an ice bag. Long, blonde tresses brushed the careening cleavage of the woman bent over his knee. Arthur's wiry frame held a hidden strength, cleaved her tightly whenever they danced, but that position would've ended with her on the floor.
Cackling, she returned the paperback to its place, betting the hunk would be at full mast by chapter four.
When she reached her room, she stretched her arms over her head, pushed herself to her tiptoes, released a short squeal. The conference center's folding chairs had next to no padding. Soreness nagged at her tailbone, a deep-seated throb ached her rear. She could really use a bath. She checked her watch. Arthur would be calling in about fifteen minutes. Luckily, the restroom had a phone.
Pantyhose rolled down her legs, a nail caught on the reinforced toe. The star-patterned vinyl floor was cold on her feet. A claw clip kept her hair off her shoulders, spare tendrils falling to her cheeks. Steam coated the mirror as the room filled with a pleasant heat. She dabbed away her mascara and eyeliner before it could streak. She sipped her cocktail, stepped into the bath. Gave her breasts a casual squeeze and sighed out the stress of the day.
The ringer rang right on the dot.
Voice as light as a game of I Spy, she said, "This isn't reception telling me to pipe down, is it?"
On the other end, Arthur's smile sucked his teeth. "No, it's just me."
"I'm glad it's just you."
The day had gone well, he told her. One of his gigs had cancelled, but that was all right. It let him get some work done around the apartment. He'd replaced the window shade that no longer rolled up, mopped the kitchen, sorted the drawers of his desk. He'd just tuned into a movie on TMC, a screwball comedy she'd deem too silly and dislike.
When he asked how the conference was going, she told him about Flossie, how she hoped the woman's eagerness to excel wouldn't result in her being suckered into membership upgrades. That the WARN act - while a step forward - put some guardrails on the mass layoffs that'd become the norm in the last decade but didn't prevent them. And the overeager judge she was happy to never have to face in court.
"You should teach a class on how to be a gentleman." She slunk deeper into the heat. "I'm learning a lot, but I'll be happy to be home."
"You're not missing much."
"I'm missing you."
"But you saw me this morning!" His protestations didn't fool her; he was pleased as punch. A hitched giggle, one of his many laughs she loved. "Me, too. I mean, I can't wait to see you. But don't worry. I'm fine. Talk to me more. Tell me about the hotel."
"We'll have to stay here someday. There's a bar with a player piano, and I'm having a cocktail in the bath."
"You- You're on the phone in the tub?" The sound of him puttering. A drink set on the coffee table, a middle-aged groan as he sat on the sofa. "There is one thing I can't get out of my head." Nervous tongue smacked his lips. "What were you thinking about on the subway?"
Mercury threatened to crack the thermometer. But still. She was reticent to go there. "I already told you. It was nothing."
"Come on. You were as red as my clown nose."
She pressed the cool glass to her sweaty forehead. The flight of fancy had been completely inappropriate, not to mention out of character. She knew exactly what telling him would lead to, the direction in which this conversation would race. Tacky and cheap, belonging to a $3.99 a minute hotline.
And yet. She was grateful to have a husband she could blush around, whom she could fantasize about, whom she wanted to fantasize about. Besides. It'd been a stretch since they'd last made love. Tacky and cheap might be just what the Doctor of Laughter ordered.
She let the cognac trickle down her throat. Knuckles dragged up and down her breastbone. Her forearm brushed her pebbled nipple. A drop from the faucet plopped.
"Do you want to continue this?" she asked, an eager if uncertain invitation.
"Yeah," he purred. That rasp, the one positive of his cigarette addiction. "But I'm- I'm not sure what's next."
Neither was she, not quite. The next steps felt at once natural and as if they belonged to an unread novel on a hotel bookshelf. But it was him, so it would turn out all right. They'd figured it out every time before. "Tell me what you're wearing," she said. "Or what you're thinking about. Whatever you want."
"I'm in my pajamas. Um. I found my old journal when I was cleaning. I hadn't read it for years - it has everything from when I met you. Anyway, I read what I wrote our first night together? I'd wanted to touch you so badly and-" He gave a throaty laugh. "And all I knew what to do was squeeze your breast too hard."
The recollection struck a match in all the right places. She'd wanted him, too, more than was smart after such a short acquaintanceship. There'd been something that'd set him apart immediately. Whenever he'd looked at her, her heart had skipped to a new but familiar beat. His good looks, his kindness. Passion and flair hiding beneath a surface shyness, a mask you could see through if you took an extra minute.
"You knew how to look at me. How to listen. How to be gentle." She caressed her hip absentmindedly, a movement that soon became deliberate. "And when not to be."
Her knee shifted to rest on the lip of the tub, opening herself to the warm water. "I wouldn't want you to be gentle now," she whispered, and tugged at the curls between her thighs.
"I wouldn't be." Ragged breaths tempted over three hundred miles. A muted moan that meant he was palming his shaft. Her own palm felt empty. How she hungered for him to be in her grasp. Then he asked, "What- What did you pack for bed?"
"The blue nightie you gave me. The one that ties at the neck." It was six years old but a perennial favorite for both. The approval that'd radiated from him when she'd modeled it flashed in her memory. Strokes blazed at the crease of her thigh. "I'll wear it tonight - unless you want me to sleep naked."
A husky chuckle before he pressed her. Again. "Tell me what you were thinking about on the train. I wanna know."
Fingertips dipped to where she ached for him. Lower to tease plush, squishy flesh, plump with desire. Her eyelids fluttered shut, returning to the occasions she'd pleasured herself in front of him, both when he was inside of her and out. Even on the occasions he wasn't able to get hard, he loved it, asked her to do it again. Holding her. Stealing her breath from her mouth. Covering her hand with his. His thumb taking over until she cried his name.
Fever rippling through her arteries, she tapped her slick nub, body throbbing with need. She cleared her throat. She thought she'd lost her ability to be bashful with Arthur. But dirty talk didn't come as naturally now that she was alone, not the way it did when it was foreplay. When she'd beg him to fuck her, plead for more, more, more.
Yet, she wasn't alone. Though he was afar, she was abuzz with his presence. Spreading joy and happiness to others, always entertaining his audience, he was the performer in the relationship. Tonight the performer became the audience, and she was putting on a show for one.
A show she'd drag out a bit longer. Make it worth his while. "I'm touching my clit, Arthur. Slow and soft, like your tongue. God, I wish it was your tongue. You feel so good."
He groaned. Her grip on the telephone tightened, knuckles gone white. "When we were on the train," she began. "I imagined you shushing me. Your breath was hot on my ear. I wanted you to put your hand on my skin, down my skirt." Her strokes halted while she laughed. "I don't know why. I wasn't even horny."
"You're horny now."
"All hot and bothered."
A grunt came through the copper wire, luring her along. Her foot pressed the tub's curved rim. Splashes of imagery knotted her belly. The play of light on his slender abdomen when he'd put on a shirt. How his biceps flexed when he'd wash his hair. The tightening of his brow the second he lost himself to euphoria. The musky weight of him on her tongue.
She rubbed herself a little harder. A steady, firm pace. "When I come I feel your cock at my back-"
"Keep talking."
"-and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning, because I know you'll fuck me as soon as we walk through the door."
"Oh, fuck..."
Water licked at her labia with each flick of her wrist, awakening every nerve ending, cresting wave upon wave of sensation. She shoved the receiver under her jaw, lifted her shoulder to lock it in place. Cradled her breast, nipples just at the waterline Lapping, lapping, lapping. She circled the right with her middle finger, wishing her hand was as large as Arthur's, so that she could play with the left. Shivering, her knees drew together and upward, pelvis striving towards her wanton touch.
Splish, splash. Splish, splash.
A growl rumbled out of him. "I- I'm gonna come."
"Yes."
She was there. She was there. About to fly over the edge, her feet about to leap. Gasps caught in her throat. Half his name lost in a whimper. The peak of delight finally reached...
The phone tumbled off her shoulder and plunged into the water. Landed on the fiberglass. An unenthusiastic thud.
"Shit, shit-"
Locked in spasm, she watched air bubbles rise from the sunken plastic. It was hard to move mid-orgasm. Her legs weren't yet in the Jello stage. Hanging onto the towel bar, she stood on very shaky ankles.
She plucked the receiver from the water, shook it out over the tub. Yanked the drain and placed the handset on the rim. Fingers a blur, she dialed their home number on the bedside phone. How quickly had Arthur realized she wasn't on the line?
Had he heard any of the denouement?
Nine rings and Arthur answered, out of breath but with a laugh. "What happened?"
She covered her face. "I dropped the phone. It's ruined." It would be the one time she would pay a fee for damages.
"Oh. Well, I was just cleaning up."
The cord twined through her fingers. "Did you?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Me, too."
"I know. I heard half of it."
Giggling, she excused herself to dry off. Pulled the clip from her hair, retrieved her nightie from her bag. She crawled between cool sheets, fluffed her pillow, pressed Arthur to her ear.
"What'll you do tomorrow," he asked, scratching his cheek.
A Department of Labor inspector would give a presentation on the Severe Violators program, a list of closely monitored companies that violated labor laws like it was a talent and never lifted a finger to change their ways. The padding to their bottom lines was bigger than the fines. She'd chatted with the inspector during a break.
"ACE Chemicals being on the list isn't a surprise. But Wayne Steel?" A sharp inhale before she yawned the rest. "I hadn't even heard of them."
"You're tired.”
"No. Relaxed. Happy. But not tired." She curled up on her side, burrowed deeper into the blankets. "This bed is empty. I have no one to press up against." Another yawn betrayed her.
At her third, Arthur interrupted. "Y/N, go to sleep." A grin in his words, like he was about to call her cute. "You need your rest."
"And why is that?"
His voice lowered to the volume of secrets. "Because when you get back, I'm going to fuck you as soon as we walk through the door."
Her eyes went wide, then she burst out laughing. A wave of dizziness swept through her. She brought the heel of her hand to her forehead. "What time'll you wake up tomorrow?"
"Six, probably. Maybe 5:30?
"Let's have coffee together. I'll make a cup at 6:15."
He agreed before she'd completed the request, said how dearly he loved her. And, yes, to her consternation, called her cute. She kept the eyeroll out of her reply. "You're wonderful, too. Now take your own advice and get some sleep. No journaling until dawn. All right?"
"All right. Have a good night. And Y/N?"
She was already fading, his lilt her favorite lullaby. "Yeah?"
"Wear your blue nightie for coffee. I’ll be in my briefs."
~~~~~
Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes @fleckficgirl
#arthur fleck#arthur fleck fanfic#arthur fleck smut#arthur fleck x reader#arthur x ofc#joker 2019#arthur x female reader#watchwhathappens
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Riding Out the Storm
So, I previously posted this on AO3 but I went through it and fixed it up quite a bit. Made it more descriptive and what not. Trust me when I say I improved it BIG TIME. I haven't updated it on AO3 yet though. Figured I'd post it in case anyone wanted to check it out. (Sansa is 18 in this one in case anyone has an underage issue.)
I dunno man, I think I made it pretty hot and I usually don't feel that way about my own smut. You tell me.
RATED - E (as in Explicit, not for Everyone)
WORD COUNT - 6385
Sansa has gone to stay with her Aunt Lysa and Uncle Petyr over summer vacation at their beach house. But, instead of fun in the sun, a hurricane hits. Lysa decided to ride out the storm by popping pills and sleeping through it, leaving Petyr and Sansa alone to ride it out their own way. (I literally wrote this during a hurricane.)
"This is so boring, I can't stand it. I’m literally about to lose my mind.”
Petyr looked at his eighteen-year-old niece over the top of his book. She was sitting in the arm chair across from his, squirming in her seat, and checking her phone every five minutes. “If you keep using that phone without charging it you’re gonna get a hell of a lot more bored once the power goes out. Read a book, I have plenty.”
“Who reads anymore?”
“Beg my pardon, you're right, I imagine your generation wouldn't bother to even learn to read if not for texting.” She snarled her nose at him but he didn't mind. Didn't care at all if he offended her delicate sensibilities. “I don't care what you do, just stop complaining.”
Outside the wind was picking up, the rain coming down harder, and they could see it all through the clear plastic shutters that were covering all of the windows. There was a pretty massive hurricane sitting in the Atlantic, on the way straight toward them, the current conditions being brought in from the outer bands. Petyr imagined his wife's niece, Sansa, had never dreamed coming to stay with her aunt for a few weeks would result in their current situation. No, she likely had fantasies of fun in the sun, beach days, and relaxing in the hammock. Her boyfriend had even planned to come visit her for a few days but that wasn't going to happen, at least not until after the storm had passed. All flights in and out had been canceled.
He said nothing as she got up and plugged her phone into the charger, his eyes following her across the room. She was wearing white cotton shorts that barely covered her bottom and a blue spaghetti strap top and he wondered why she wore clothing like that in front of him if she didn't want him looking. And she didn't want him looking, or at least that's what she had told him. What was it that she had said? Pervert. Yeah, that's what she had called him when she noticed him glance at her ass. He hadn't meant for his eyes to linger but her skirt had been so short and she had bent over right in front of him, her ass almost in full view. He was only a man, how could he not look?
“When are Robin and Lysa getting up?” she asked, plopping back down onto the chair.
“No time soon, I imagine. She wants to sleep through it and I don't intend to stop her.” Lysa had taken enough Xanax to sleep through their house blowing away, and Robin, the spoiled mommy’s boy that he was, would stay in bed with her.
“What do you wanna do?”
“I want to keep reading my book.”
“Ugh...come on. Amuse me.”
What a little cunt. As if it were his responsibility to keep her occupied. “What would you have me do, Miss Stark?”
She shrugged, tucking a stray strand of perfect, red hair behind her ear. “I dunno. You wanna play a game or something?”
Petyr sighed, closed his book and placed it on the coffee table in front of them, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be getting any reading done if Sansa Stark had anything to say about it. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Fine. What sort of game did you have in mind?”
“Um...naked twister?” she laughed, obviously finding herself hilarious. She'd caught him looking at her ass once and now she figured he wanted her and meant to taunt him for it.
It was true, he did want her, but he would not be bested by an eighteen-year-old girl. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have the game,” he answered, unfazed.
She shook her head, a sardonic smile on her lips. “I was kidding.”
“I'm well aware.”
“Ooook." Her eyes widened as though he were being ridiculous. "So what do you wanna play?”
“You tell me, it was your idea, Sweetling.”
“How about Truth or Dare?”
Truth or Dare. There was a game he hadn't played in years. In truth the only games he played any more were those of the mind. Fuck it. Why not? What could she possibly ask him that would be too revealing? Even so, he was a very good liar. “Fine.”
“Okay.” She got up from the chair and moved to sit on the sofa. “Come sit by me.”
He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I wanna be able to see your eyes, so I can tell if you're lying or not.”
Petyr fought against laughter that threatened to erupt. Little fool, I'm a master fucking manipulator. But she didn't need to know that, so he moved from his own chair and sat down beside her on the sofa. She pulled her legs up so that her knees were bent and she was facing him. “Is that better?” he asked.
“Sure. Now who should go first?”
He gave a small shrug. “I'll be the guinea pig I suppose, why not?”
“Okay, Truth or Dare?”
“Truth.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Wimp.”
“Why?”
“Truth is the safe way to go.”
“Is it?” He stared into her blue eyes, challenging her to disagree. For he knew that truths could be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands.
She looked away quickly. “Fine...lemme think.” She fiddled with her necklace for a moment, running the little golden heart back and forth across the chain, before an idea dawned on her and her attention snapped back to his face. “I heard you got into a bad fight with my uncle over my mother when you guys were around my age and he totally kicked your ass. Is it true?”
“It's true,” Petyr admitted but ‘kicked his ass’ wasn't the phrase he'd use to describe it. “He nearly killed me.” She hadn't asked that but he offered the knowledge anyway. Let her hear how brutal her own family can be, let her empathize with me. Whatever it took to get her where he wanted her.
“Yeah...I heard you have a huge scar across your chest. Is that true?”
Petyr grinned and shook his head. “It's your turn now, not mine. Truth or Dare?”
"You suck," she pouted and Petyr couldn't stop his gaze from traveling from her eyes down to her luscious bottom lip. Reflexively he ran his tongue across his own bottom lip and then bit down on it. He was well aware that women found him adorable when he bit his bottom lip. When his eyes returned to hers they were wide and a rosy pink had colored her cheeks and he flashed her a devilish grin. He would use everything in his arsenal, every trick in the book.
She swallowed and looked down at her hands. “Um...truth, I guess.”
“Is it true that you're only dating Joffrey Baratheon because his family is famous and he's the most desired boy in the world?” Petyr asked.
Her chin dropped and her mouth hung open in feigned shock. “No. No, never. Joffrey’s... he's…”
“He's what?” Everyone knew the kid was a prick and he watched her stumble to find something nice to say about him. She couldn't. Sansa was the girl who wanted to date the cutest and most popular boy in school, even if that boy was an asshole. She would imagine he'd fall hopelessly in love with her and change his ways just for her. She was young, naive, and selfish. Unrealistically idealistic. He knew exactly who she was because he had once been the same person, mistaking infatuation for love. “You're a bad liar, Sansa.”
She was about to object when all of the lights went out and they were left in complete darkness. They had been so busy with their little game that neither of them had noticed that the winds outside were howling, the rain beating against the windows. If Petyr had bothered to keep a television on he would have known where the storm was but had decided early on that he wasn't going to get wrapped up into the hysteria. It was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“Do you think the lights will come back on?” Sansa asked. As if in answer to her question, a gust of wind slammed against the front door and the pressure of it could be felt physically.
“I don't think so. Stay here, I'll go get some candles.”
Petyr left her alone on the sofa, using the light from his cellphone to guide him to the kitchen. He grabbed a few candles from the cabinet above the stove, a flashlight, and a bottle of wine. Fuck it. There was nothing else to do. He found the corkscrew in a drawer and returned to the living room to sit the candles on the coffee table. In this case it was a lucky thing he smoked because it meant he always had a lighter in his pocket. Once they were lit a soft glow enveloped him and Sansa, and he noticed an uneasiness in her eyes as he sat back down beside her.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
“Yeah. The wind...it's so loud. The whistling is kinda creepy.”
How cute, she was frightened of the storm. “I don't mind it but I grew up in a rainy, windy area. I actually find it rather comforting.”
“Really?”
“Mmm.” He popped the cork on the bottle of wine and drank straight from the bottle, passing it to Sansa after.
She reached for it but hesitated. “But...I’m not old enough.”
“Close enough. Don't pretend you’ve never drank before, I'm not stupid and I may look old but I used to be a teenager too. Besides, it might help you relax.” She smiled, a sweet, innocent smile and Petyr felt the corner of his mouth twitch to match. Her fingers brushed his as she took the bottle and that small touch made his skin tingle and burn.
“So...do you wanna finish playing the game?” she asked after a hearty swig.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Okay, it was your turn. Truth or Dare?”
“Dare.” He was suddenly feeling a bit adventurous. What could she possibly dare him to do in their current circumstances anyway?
“I dare you to take off your shirt...and undershirt! If you're wearing one.”
Petyr wasn't sure what to say for a moment. It definitely wasn't the dare he saw coming. “Why?”
“Does it matter why? I dared you to.”
He grabbed the wine bottle from her and took a long draught before sitting it on the table. He wasn't particularly shy, no it wasn't that, he just didn't really want to show her the long scar that ran the length of his torso, from his collar bone to his navel, and he was almost certain that's why she wanted him bare.
“Just remember,” he said as he began to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. “Paybacks are a bitch.” She raised her eyebrows at him challengingly. Little girl, don't get in over your head. Surely she didn't understand the dangers and implications of undressing a fully grown man. If she did she may have rethought her dare. Too late now, little one. He finished with the buttons of his shirt and shrugged it off, then pulled the white t-shirt he wore under it over his head and watched as her eyes widened in shock.
“Oh my God...I had- I didn't know-”
“It's fine!" He cut her off. Her words sounded a lot like pity and he hadn't the stomach for pity. "It's been healed for many, many years.”
She reached towards him and instinctively he grabbed her wrist before her fingers made contact with the raised pink flesh, causing her to flinch. He hadn't meant to grab her too roughly or hurt her, it was just a reflex. Nevertheless, he held onto her. In truth he very much liked the idea of her tiny fingers roaming his bare chest. “I believe it's your turn.”
Her blue eyes locked onto his in surprise. Has she already forgotten we were playing a game?
“Um...yeah. I pick truth.”
Petyr released his grip on her wrist and she pulled her arm back against her chest. For a moment he just looked at her, noting that all her usual cockiness had seemed to fade after realizing that he could hurt her if he wished to. Sansa was a tall girl, exactly the same height as Petyr, and she sauntered around in front him as though she was untouchable and unattainable, but now she surely realized that though he was not a big man in stature, he was still a man, and he was lean and strong and he could pin her down if he so desired. But Petyr wasn't interested in taking her by force for it would be much more satisfying to make her desire him. To want him. Before the night was over, she would be begging for his cock.
What truth could he ask her to break her down? To put her in her place? A sinful grin spread across his face. Sex. She clearly loved the attention her beautiful, young body got her but if he knew anything about teenagers, it was that they hated being reminded of their sexual inexperience and inferiority. They had the bodies of adults but were still children and tended to get quite defensive when one reminded them of that. “Alright, I have a question for you. Are you still a virgin?”
In the dim light of the candles he could just barely make out the blush spreading across her cheeks. “No! No way, I have a boyfriend.”
Petyr couldn't contain a soft chuckle. “You're lying.”
“No. I'm not. I've done it tons of times.”
“Oh? What's your favorite position?”
She shook her head. “It's not my turn anymore.”
“I wasn't asking a Truth, I was just asking. Do you like it rough or soft and slow?"
Her cheeks flushed crimson, matching her hair. “It's your turn,” she insisted, still avoiding the question.
It didn't matter. He could always tell when people were lying, he had learned to note the signs. Or tells. Lack of eye contact, fidgeting, a twitch of their lips. She was exhibiting all of these. “Fine. Truth.”
Sansa took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. “Do you...did you...um…”
“Come on, out with it.”
“Do you like looking at me?” she asked, avoiding his gaze. “I've seen you look at me.”
And just like that, a jolt of arousal burned through his stomach and down through his groin. “I recall. And you called me a pervert.”
“I didn't mean it,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Not really. It's just what everyone else says when an old- I mean...older guy looks at a teenage girl.”
“You meant old.”
“No! I didn't... I mean that's what other people say but I don't think you're old.” This was certainly a turn of events. For once, not at all what he was expecting. “If I told my friends they would think it was creepy and gross because you're so much older and you're my uncle but...I kind of like it when you look at me.”
Another jolt of arousal, this time shooting straight to his cock. Such a sweet, delicious little confession. “I'm not your uncle through blood,” he quickly reminded her. She finally looked into his eyes and hers looked so innocent and vulnerable that he physically ached.
“So...you still haven't answered. Do you like to? Ya know...look at me?”
If he said no he would be lying and he couldn't bring himself to lie to her, not about this, not with the fear of rejection written all over her face. Not when the truth could possibly allow him a taste of her supple, young fruit. He softened his tone and spoke barely above a whisper, “Yes, sweetheart, I do. Very much.”
A sweet smile played on her lips, followed by another blush. “It's my turn now.” She was embarrassed and trying to move away from the topic now but Petyr's curiosity was piqued and he was getting her exactly where he wanted her. If she liked him looking at her, what else might she like?
“Truth or Dare?” he asked, his heart racing in anticipation.
“Truth.”
“Do you ever look at me?”
“I'm looking at you right now.”
“You know what I mean, Sweetling.” He was taking a gamble, he knew, just because she enjoyed the attention of him lusting after her did not mean the feeling was mutual but there was only one way to find out. “Do you find me attractive, Sansa?” He was a good looking man, he knew, slender and lean with dark hair greying at his temples, but teenagers were usually attracted to other teenagers.
“Yeah...I guess I do," she admitted, her eyes cast downward, no doubt afraid to look into his.
Her confession sent another jolt through Petyr and his cock was beginning to throb. Every sane part of him screamed to end their little game immediately before he completely sexually frustrated himself but the part of him that didn't care said keep going. “Truth,” he answered before she even had time to ask the question.
She lifted her head, finding the courage to make eye contact. “Have you ever thought about...like...doing things to me?”
Was he imagining it or had she scooted closer to him? There was hardly room to breathe between them, with her knees still bent, her shins just barely grazed his thigh. “Yes.”
“What kinds of things?”
His heart was hammering against his ribs now, his every nerve tingling in anticipation. He wanted to jump on her like a fucking wild animal in heat and just take her but that wouldn't do. He had to tread carefully. Slowly he inhaled a breadth of air, calming himself, and slowly exhaled. “Things you’re too young to hear about.”
“I'm not too young. I think about things too.”
“Oh?" So much for calm. "What kinds of things?” Had she too imagined her legs over his shoulders as he pumped into her? Had she slid her digits through her silken, wet slit and imagined it was his tongue instead?
“You were supposed to answer first, it's your turn.”
Petyr turned his body more, to face hers, and whilst doing so took the opportunity to place his hand on her bare leg. She wiggled a bit but didn't shake him off. Her skin was so very soft and supple and he couldn't stop himself from gently rubbing his fingers over her. “Do you want to know if I've thought about kissing you?” he asked.
Her eyes had snapped to where his hand now rested on her bare skin, fixated. It looked as though she struggled to lift them to meet his own. “Yes... and anything else.”
“You wanna know if I've imagined fucking you?” She nodded, biting that kissable bottom lip of hers. “Yes...and yes.” His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, moving around her leg and up to the inside of her thigh. Her skin was even softer there. His cock, now hard and throbbing, was straining against his pants. “What have you imagined, sweetheart?”
“I- I um…” Her face was flushed and her voice sounded strained as he continued running his fingers along the inside of her thigh.
“Don't be shy.”
“I...imagined kissing you.”
“What else?” His fingers now toyed with the edge of her shorts and he was hyper-aware of every change in her demeanor. Her breathing, while barely audible, was more shallow and quick and her perky tits were rising and falling in rapid succession. The conversation, the sound of his voice mixed with his touch, was turning her on and he was inwardly delighted at this victory.
“I've imagined you touching me.”
“Where, Sweetling?” he asked, his voice a seductive whisper.
“Um…” Her eyelids fluttered and her voice came out as a soft sigh. The evidence of her arousal made his cock ache with longing.
“Truth or Dare, Sansa?”
“Dare,” she whispered and Petyr almost burst with excitement.
“I dare you to let me kiss you.”
Her eyes met his, looking both uncertain and curious. “What about Aunt Lysa?”
“She's taken enough Xanax to knock out a bull. She's not going to wake up.”
“No, I mean...don't you love her?”
He brought his hands to her face then, gently cupping and caressing the line of her jaw. “Not the way I love you.” In truth he didn't love Lysa at all. Did he love Sansa? Perhaps, but more than anything he wanted to taste her and bury himself inside her and he would say whatever he needed to achieve that. “May I kiss you?”
She barely had time to utter consent before Petyr leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own and her immediate sigh was music to his ears. He forced himself to move slowly, even though his body was alight with need, longing to take her fast and hard. Longing for relief. Her lips moved against his innocently, clumsy and inexperienced as they were, but he didn't care. He would teach her, he would mold her to fit him. Carefully, he ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, willing her to open for him. When her lips parted he took his chance and slipped his tongue between them, softly stroking her own.
She was all softness and warmth and tasted of the wine they had just shared. She was delicious and he couldn't contain the moan that escaped him. His fingers traced down the line of her neck and she whimpered into his mouth and her own hands found their way to his bare chest. Petyr was losing all sense of reason as he devoured her, his heart pounded wildly against his chest, and his cock had become an insistent, aching reminder of how badly he wanted her. When her thumb brushed across his nipple he hissed in a breath and broke their kiss, pulling just far away enough to search the deep blue pools of her eyes.
“Uncle Petyr…”
“Yes?”
“I dare you to touch me.”
Oh fuck. “I didn't choose dare, Sweetling.” He was teasing her, of course, he would gladly touch her.
Her hands went to his hips, urging him closer. “Uncle Petyr, please.”
Please was all it took for him to slip his hands under the hem of her shirt. He reclaimed her lips as his deft fingers found the clasp of her bra and had it loose in seconds. She moaned into his mouth when his hands cupped her breasts, a soft cry of ecstasy, and it took every ounce of Petyr's self control to go slowly. All of her little moans and sighs were going straight to his cock. When he found her nipples and began gently tweaking them between his fingers, she arched into him reflexively, her thighs spreading. He took the opportunity to get between them and push her back onto the sofa, pressing himself against her. He could feel the warmth radiating from her core, even through their layers of clothing, and was unable to stop himself from grinding his erection against her, relishing in the friction.
Sansa broke their kiss and looked at him and Petyr felt stunned, as if being awakened from a trance. Her eyes were glazed and the blue even darker than before, although behind them was a tinge of worry. “What's wrong, Sweetling?”
“I lied earlier.” Her voice was a whisper. “About having done it before. I've never….never really done anything.”
He had known. Of course he had known but a part of him was hoping she would try to maintain the lie until the very end, until he was already buried deep inside her and felt how tight she was. What sort of monster would he be now, with it out in the open, to take this little girl's virginity on the sofa as his wife slept upstairs? “I know and we don't have to do anything, we can stop right now,” but even as he said it, he rocked his hips into her and began tracing her jaw with soft kisses, down until he reached that sweet spot just below. A sharp intake of breath from her and a thrust back against him was enough to spur him on.
A monster indeed.
One of his hands left her breasts and snaked down between them where he slowly eased his fingers under the waistband of her shorts and panties. “Mmhmm,” he moaned into her neck as he found her slit already slick with need. “So wet.” When he slipped a finger through her folds she whimpered and her hands went to his chest, her fingers gripped his chest hair tightly and the pull stung but he didn't mind.
He moved his finger up and down her folds slowly, torturously, making sure to circle her little nub rhythmically. Even without direct pressure she was already moaning and wiggling beneath him, her breaths quick and shallow. Fuck, she's so wet. He wanted nothing more than to yank her bottoms off and sink into her balls deep, to take her fast and rough. But waiting was a sweet kind of torture.
“Do you want me to stop, Sansa?” He would, if she insisted, but he was going to persuade her. He was very good at persuasion.
“No. No please, don't.” Her reply was strained, he couldn't believe how responsive she was to the slightest touch from him.
“Does your boyfriend make you feel like this?” he asked, as he began to fully rub her clit, applying real pressure.
She bucked her hips against his hand as a breathy “No” escaped her lips.
He continued to play with her breasts with one hand as his other worked her below and when he finally slipped his finger into her entrance he covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her cry. She was so tight, more than one finger was going to hurt her a little but he was going to try to make it as painless as possible. Perhaps he wasn't a complete monster.
He fucked her with the one finger, making sure the bottom of his palm continuously rubbed on her nub, and she came undone beneath him. Writhing and bucking, one of her hands clawed at his bare side the other tangled in his hair. Petyr was enjoying every minute of it, even though he was sure his cock was about to burst out of his pants. He could almost cum from just watching her lose control.
“Mm...p-p..” she was trying to say something against his mouth. He eased up a bit to allow it. “Please…”
“Please, what?”
“Please...fas-faster.”
He grinned against her lips as he shifted his hand to slide another finger inside. He went slowly at first, stretching her open, getting her used to the feel of something bigger, and she winced but didn't tell him to stop. After a few moments she began moaning again, soft whimpers of pleasure, so he picked up the pace.
“Do you like that?” he whispered into her ear.
“Mmhmm.”
“Do you like the way your Uncle Petyr fucks you?” She bucked wildly against him and he felt her walls beginning to contract. She was close. “Cum for me, Sweetling. Cum for Uncle Petyr.” As if his words alone willed it, and maybe they did, she moaned loudly. Her back arched and her inner walls gripped his fingers, pulling them even deeper as she came around them. Petyr gently nipped at her neck and massaged her breasts as she peaked and then began to come down from her high, praying she wouldn't change her mind now that her initial need was sated.
He decided he wouldn't give her time to. He pushed her shirt and bra up to reveal her naked breasts, beautiful pale mounds ripe for a feast and he dipped his head, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn. Her skin tasted like heaven, sweet and musty and entirely her own; he could have stayed between them forever but he had a more pressing matter at hand. She was already responding again, soft little mews and pants that were driving him mad with lust. He pulled up from her and hooked his fingers under the waistband of her bottoms, stilling for a moment to see if she would object. She didn't. She looked up at him with those innocent blue eyes, waiting, and closed her knees to make it easier for him to get them down.
Without hesitation he pulled them down, tossing them carelessly across the room. Just as quickly he kicked off his shoes and pulled his own pants and boxers off, his cock springing forth, finally free of its constraints. He got back onto the sofa on his knees, placing a hand on each of her own and spreading them back open.
“Jesus…” Her little cunt was so perfect and glistening in the light of the candles from her juices. Just a taste. Petyr watched her face, her cheeks were burning with embarrassment and her eyes darted away from his own. Clearly no one had ever looked at her this way before but she had nothing to be ashamed of. She was perfect. He quickly dipped his head and ran his tongue up the length of her slit, resulting in a surprise gasp from her. He had never tasted anything so delicious in his life. He wanted to devour her for hours, make her exhausted with pleasure until her legs shook and she had to fight for air but he also desperately wanted to be inside her. He settled for a few laps with his tongue and a suckle at her clit before getting up and leaning over her, his cock nestling itself between her folds. Her wet heat caused him to buck against her.
“Ooh,” she whimpered.
“Are you okay?” he asked, bringing his face to her own.
She nodded. “It looks big.”
It? His cock. He hadn't even noticed her looking at it but surely she had, it was likely the only one she had ever seen in person. “Thank you for stroking my ego, Sweetling.”
“Can I...can I get a better look at it? Can I touch it?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
He lifted his body off her so she could look down between them where his member lay snug against her sex. He was rigidly hard and his head an angry red. Would she find it ugly? He watched as her tiny hand reached down and she ran her fingers along his length. “Mmm,” he moaned at the contact.
“Does it feel good?”
“You have no idea.”
“I think I might now,” she replied with a sweet smile. “It's so soft but...so hard.”
"Do you like my cock, baby?" he asked, biting that bottom lip of his again in that adorable way that he did.
She blushed an even deeper shade of crimson and smiled. "Yes."
He hummed proudly. "Hmmm, good girl." Very slowly he began rocking his hips, allowing himself to slide through her slit, and she watched with apt fascination until her head fell back and she whimpered from the friction. Petyr himself felt every nerve alighting in his body and he wasn't even inside her yet. “Are you ready?” he asked.
She could only nod, her breathing heavy and loud, lost to the sensation of his manhood stroking her most sensitive spot.
Petyr inwardly rejoiced as he pressed his chest down against hers and kissed her heartily and hungrily. She met his kiss with equal fervor as he took his cock in hand and aligned himself with her entrance. He gave a slight push and he felt her entire body tense beneath him. “Try to relax, Sweetling. It will hurt less if you do.” He truly had no desire to hurt her and didn't understand how any man could enjoy such a thing. It was far more pleasurable to give pleasure.
She nodded but as he began pushing further in, stretching her all the way out, tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes. She was so tight, her body instinctively pushed back against the foreign intrusion, and Petyr had to give a few deep, hard thrusts to fully stretch her open for him, until he was all the way inside.
His hips stilled for a moment. "Oooh, holy fuck!" He groaned at the sensation of finally being fully sheathed, his cock twitched within her and he knew if he wasn't careful he would cum far more quickly than he wanted to. Fuck she's so fucking tight, fuck! He wouldn't normally have to worry about that sort of thing but she was so fucking tight and the anticipation had been building inside him for far longer than that night.
She was shaking, crying, and he cupped her face gently kissing away the tears. “Relax, the hard part is over now.”
He captured her lips with his own as he began to slowly pull out and push back in, a gentle, rhythmic rocking of his hips. As he did so, he placed one hand on her breast and the other he placed over where their bodies joined and began working at that tender, little nub. His body wanted so much more, his breathing laboured, fighting the natural urge to start pounding into her.
“Fuck...you feel so good, sweetheart.” She whimpered at his words. “So wet...so tight around my cock.”
“Oooh.” Her cheeks were flushed with arousal, her eyes heavy. His words were fueling her desire. The sound of his voice relaxing her muscles and opening her up beneath him.
"That's it, sweetheart, open up." He could feel her walls relaxing around him as he pushed in and out of her, could feel her getting wetter as he worked her clit. “Do you like the way my cock feels, Sweetling?”
“Oh my God," she panted. So responsive to the sound of his voice. "F-fuck...yes.”
He moved his hand from her breast and used it to prop himself up, allowing a new angle, allowing him to go deeper. “Does my voice turn you on?”
“Yes...don't stop.” Her breaths were becoming quicker, her head rolled back against the arm of the sofa, her own hands replaced his and kneaded at her breasts.
Petyr began to pick up the pace with each thrust. “Does my little girl like the way I fuck her?” She grinded against him at his words. “Ooh fuck...that's it. Such a good girl.”
Sweat broke out on his brow as he pumped into her. The sounds of their joining was intoxicating, the gush of her juices every time he thrust back in, the sound of his balls slapping against her ass. He wanted to keep talking to her but he was losing it. “Mmm...fuuuuck...so good.”
Finally she said it. “Faster.”
He wasted no time, his hips responding to her demand immediately and she began bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts. He wanted her to cum again so desperately but he wasn't going to last much longer at the new frantic pace. His body collapsed on top of her and he hooked his arms underneath hers as he continuously moved his hips, deep and hard. “Your pussy feels so good,” he purred, his lips now at her ear. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”
“Oh...oooh, Petyr don't stop.” Her hands went to his head, pulling and yanking his hair but he didn't mind.
“Mmm...oh fuuuck baby I’m gonna cum.”
And he did, he couldn't stop it. Every nerve in his body lit up, his veins sung with pleasure, as he went over the edge, lighting up every limb down to his toes. His vision went white. He tried to pull out, he really did, but as soon as he came, she came too, and her walls gripped him, pulling him back in and milking him for every drop.
“Oooh...oh fuuuuck,” he cried as his cock twitched and jerked inside her.
For a few moments they laid there, their breaths evening out, minds clearing. When Petyr could think clearly again the dread of what had just happened ebbed its way into his mind. “Sansa...I'm so sorry,” he said, his voice muffled against her skin where his head was nestled in the crook of her neck.
“Sorry for what?”
“I meant to pull out.”
“No, Petyr...it's okay. My mom put me on the pill cuz I have really bad periods. It helps.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I promise. There's nothing to worry about.”
Relief spread through his body and he smiled into her neck. Finally he pusehd himself up to where he could look at her and she blushed from the eye contact, biting her bottom lip. “You're beautiful.”
“No I'm not.”
“Stop. You know you are.” She shook her head, looking a bit sad and Petyr was taken aback. For someone who always acted so confident she surely didn't seem so now. “By the time I'm done with you you're going to believe me.”
“You're not done with me?”
“Only if you want me to be.” She smiled and shook her head again, all innocence and vulnerability.
“Well,” he said, moving a strand of hair away from her face and tucking it gingerly behind her ear. “This isn't at all how I expected this evening to go.”
“Me neither.”
For the first time in a while Petyr noticed the wind howling outside. “I completely forgot there was a hurricane going on outside.”
“What hurricane?”
He smiled and pressed a kiss to her lips. Neither of them had moved yet and she didn't seem to mind.
“I think this is definitely the way to ride out a storm,” she giggled against his lips.
“Ride? I can show you how to ride out the storm.”
She laughed and ruffled his hair with her fingers and he was lost.
#petyr baelish#littlefinger#petyr x sansa#p x s#fan fiction#mine#it's smut#i might start doing rewrites to my fics and fixing them fr fr#now that i see how much better i made this one
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Meddle About
Pairing: Karli Morgenthau x fem reader
Summary: After staying with the Wilson’s, Karli begins to fall for y/n, the wilson’s family friend.
Warnings: smut smut smut and more smut. there is a strap and slight mention of possessiveness
Writers note: I am upset that there is like no Karli smut out in the world, my fave lesbian terrorist deserves more attention <3
Also message me if y’all want me to write anything specific.
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“Well, come and get it now, come and get it now. Baby, show me what you doing, come and turn around. 'Cause it's not just a figure of speech, you got me down on my knees, it's getting harder to breathe out” - Meddle About by Chase Atlantic
Some nights you believe you were made parties; made to be the centre of attention, the mirrorball in the middle of the dancefloor.
The Wilson family were hosting another potluck gathering, their house was filled to the brim with food, music and people, all in which spilt out from their front door and onto the docks. Houses upon houses had partaken in the festivities and the whole neighbourhood were singing songs well past curfew.
You, ever the social butterfly, found yourself in the centre of the party. You were dancing with Sam on the makeshift dance floor on the docks, singing loudly to whatever song someone had put in the playlist que.
“Do you want a drink?” You yelled over the music, still moving your body in rhythm with the song. The air was hot and thick around you, the short summer dress that revealed almost every inch of skin your had did little to cool you down.
“Get the good gin from my cooler in my room.” Sam yelled back, wildly fistbumping the air to the song.
You looked around, the bodies in the crowd blocking your view of the house and caging you in. You started pushing your way through, apologising and smiling sweetly at anyone in your way. The big doe eyes made anyone that looked at you melt instantly, falling over themselves to let you through.
Sam’s house came into your sights, the lights on and more people laughing and spilling from its doors. You moved your feet up the porch steps and through the front door, beelining for the stairs and making your way up towards Sam’s room.
You had found yourself in the quiet hallway, the music from downstairs vibrating the floor beneath her. You weren’t drunk and the tipsiness had long passed, but the buzz from being with friends and being breathless from dancing filled you with a warm fuzzy feeling of love.
Sam’s bedroom door was in front of you, beckoning you forward to the promised cold drinks that will surely cool her down.
But the room at the end of the hallway was making you feel weak and nervous.
Karli Morgenthau has been staying at the Wilson’s house for the past few months, after spending the past year or so in government rehabilitation. The redhead suffered major injuries after being shot by Sharon, gunshot wounds to her stomach and ribs. It was all in luck and the super soldier serum that she managed to survive and get back to health only a few months later.
Sam had to fight hard for Karli to be released from The Raft, a maximum security prison for all super-powered criminals. The only way he pulled strings to shorten her sentence was because S.H.I.E.L.D owed Sam many favours. Instead of putting her out on the streets to fend for herself, Sam took Karli in and has been trying to acclimate her to everyday life.
Karli, once an angry and feverish for revenge 19-year-old, was now a hollow and tired 21-year-old. She kept to herself, hidden in her room and away from everybody all day and night.
“Can you try and get her to open up?” Sam asks quietly one morning, a few days after Karli arrives at the house, before you had even seen her.
“You want me to be her friend?”
“I want you to show her that she’s not alone.”
You knew about Karli Morgenthau, knew what she did and who she was. You couldn't hate the red head for what she did in her past, knowing that she did it for the right reasons, just a terrible execution. So over the past few weeks, you have been trying to put yourself out there and invite Karli to join your little activities; shopping, reading, walking on the dock and helping you study.
Karli had fought at first, sending scowls and snide remarks towards you whenever you offered to show Karli around town or do anything together. But slowly, over time, you had chipped away at Karli’s frozen exterior and gotten her to open up slowly, even earning a smile or two. But just as quickly as it comes, it goes and Karli goes back to ignoring you.
Now, hot and buzzed from the party, all you wanted was to spend time with Karli. To hear her talk, watch her hands move over her book pages, watch her fluffy curls bounce everytime she moves her head.
You just wanted to be around Karli, even if Karli didn’t partially seem to care about you that much.
You walked towards Karli’s bedroom door, knocking on it hesitantly and waiting for any sign of life behind the door. You waited, and waited, and nothing. You huffed before opening the door, knowing that there is no where else Karli would be and she was ignoring the knocking on purpose.
“Hey.” Your voice was soft as you opened the door, very weary that you were definitely intruding in a space that you’re not allowed in.
Karli was sitting at her desk, lounging back in her chair so effortlessly. She was wearing her flannel pants low on her hips, her v-line in full view to the room. Karli’s sports bra equally leaves little to hide.
She looks up from her book, confused as to why anyone would be in her room, ready to send a snide remark but bites her tongue when she realises it was you.
“Hi.”
“You enjoying the party?” You joke, closing the door behind you and walking further into the room. You look around, taking in the sights of the band posters on her walls and books that littered the room.
Karli does speak, only grunting in response as her eyes remain on the page. It was probably a russian classic, or some sort of manifesto, another boring book to swallow her alive and keep her from the real world.
You stayed planted in the centre of the room, afraid to get closer to her but too embarrassed to leave. You watched Karli, trying to dissect her brain and figure out who the person in front of you was.
“Was there something else you wanted?” Karli was bored, almost annoyed that you were there.
Karli hated being here, in her room and in this house. She has grown a lot since her time with the Flagsmashers, understood where she went wrong and how much harm she did. But being coddled, being treated like a wounded stray dog that everyone needs to walk on eggshells around, it annoyed her to no end and made her irritable.
Except for you; out of everyone in the whole town, you were the only one that treated Karli like another person, treated her like a friend.
You were soft spoken and kind, always willing to help and lend a listening ear to anyone who may need it. Karli hated how easily she wanted to fall into you, how readily she was to become your friend and be around you.
Be in your world.
Be in your presence.
Be in you.
Karli wasn’t a virgin, she had fucked a girl here and there before her Flagsmasher days and a lot during. Many girls threw themselves at the redhead, wanting to be the one that could heal the broken parts within her. She never really felt anything for girls, pushing them into her bed and pleasuring them in every way possible. It was all so hot, heavy, and nonserious. She never wanted them to be anything more, never could have them be anything more.
But when you stood in front of her, flushed and sweaty from dancing, it made Karli want to push her over the nearest counter and fuck you sensless.
“I wanted to check in on you,” You played with the hem of her dress, “it’s not too bad out there, with everyone.”
“I’m good.” Karli lifted her hips up from the chair to readjust her pants, the movement caused you to almost choke on your spit. “You can shut the door on your way out.”
This has been the most to your interactions for the past month or so and it was making you irritated. You have tried for so long to open her up and get Karli to enjoy something in life, but all she could do was hide in her room and make you feel like an idiot. A new determination overcome you, forcing you to stay in the room and not be chased out by someone who has nothing going on in their life.
“What band is that?” You pushed yourself to walk towards the desk that remained pushed against the wall, underneath the band posters and random tickets sticky taped to the wall.
“Kyoto Kyoto.” Karli watched your body move closer to her, stopping right in front of her body but looking up at her wall. “Band from London.”
“Cool,” You nod your head like you knew them, “do you like their songs?”
“I wouldn’t have them on my wall if i didn’t?”
“Oh yeah, sorry.” You just stared up at the wall, suddenly feeling chilly in the deathly quiet room.
Karli was lounging on her chair, manspreading with her pants low on her hips and elbows on the armrests. The book lay forgotten in her arms and she looked at you next to her chair, standing up on your tippy toes to get a glance at the writing on some of the other posters. Karli couldn’t help herself, it was just a slight head tilt to the side, a slow dip of her head and she was looking up your dress. The girl next to her was oblivious to Karli’s prying eyes, taking in your butt.
Your underwear, white and lacy, did little to hide any skin of your ass.
Karli couldn’t stop herself, she was like a man starved after being away at war. She hadn’t touched anyone in almost 2 years, let alone felt the smooth skin of a woman - and you were just so pretty.
It was like her hand was moving on its own volition, a possessed limb that was determined to satisfy the need that festered within her chest.
Karli’s right hand reached out to her side and touched the back of your knee, startling you slightly and causing your body to pause - like a deer in headlights. Karli’s breath was heavy, her eyes lidded as her fingers dragged their way from the back of your knee to your inner thigh. She circled her fingers over your soft skin, dragging up higher and higher.
“What are you doing?” Your breath was ragged and heavy, voice barely above a whisper. You leaned forward and placed your hands on the table, holding yourself up as you waited for what Karli was going to do.
“Nothing.” It was an incoherent mumble, almost as if she was doing something as boring as reading her book.
Karli’s fingers were rough, covered in scars and calluses that slightly scratched you as they circled your skin. Getting higher and higher, slowly and surely. You knew that it was probably the worst idea in the world, but you parted your legs to allow for Karli to do whatever she was going to do.
It was like Karli just needed to touch her, just once, and you were a useless doll for whatever the redhead wanted. You knew that you both shouldn’t be doing anything like this with each other, and that Sam will have a fit if he found out, but your mind was nothing but a hum of chants; ‘please, please touch me. Please do something.”
Karli watched the nervous quiver of your legs and had to refrain from laughing. It has been so long since she has touched another woman, she was desperate to put her fingers to work, but you were the one acting like a needy virgin.
Sam would kill Karli if he saw what she was doing now, and who she was doing it to. He would have a conniption saying that you did not deserve to get involved with someone so obviously broken and in need of shackles. He would potentially kick Karli out for possibly corrupting such a pure and sweet soul.
Karli wanted to ruin you.
Karli dragged her fingers up your thigh until she reached your panties, hesitantly touching the damp fabric in case you decided to pull back. All you could do was muffle a small moan from the sensation, earning a chuckle from Karli as she dragged her fingers over the wet lace.
“Have you ever been touched?” It was derogatory in tone, but Karli was genuine in wanting to know the answer. Her fingers were moving slower than a snail, applying pressure slightly when she felt your clit through the fabric, circling it slowly then quickly pulling away.
A groan clawed its way out of your throat at the sensation and the question, Karli’s mean voice giving you mixed feelings about your situation right now.
“No.” It was embarrassing but it was the honest answer. You had kissed a few people, had a grope here and there from a teenage boy, but nothing further.
Karli was a little surprised and expected a slightly different answer; she's seen how many times guys stick to you, how many desperate attempts at your attention are presented to you. Though, Karli couldn’t complain, she could be the one to make you scream and beg for more, not those losers you were probably out dancing with only a few moments ago.
“How has someone so pretty not been touched yet?" Karli whispered into the air, and your full attention was focused on her low and hoarse voice. "Let me fix it, please.”
You felt Karli’s fingers run over your wet panties again, applying more pressure and practically fingering you through the fabric. Your legs buckled in pleasure, your head hung low as the only thing keeping you standing were your shaking arms on the table. Your eyes turned to your side, looking at Karli who was still lounging in her desk chair. The sight of Karli so effortlessly confident, so sure of herself and her skills, it made you quiver in anticipation and nod your head.
“C’mere then.”
You looked to your side and saw Karli had straightened herself up in her chair, her lap inviting you to straddle it. Karli’s hand had also left you, leaving a yearning to be touched again and a new desperation to be closer to the redhead.
You turned around and stood before Karli, putting your hands on the girl’s shoulders so you had support before moving to straddle her. The feeling of your already needy clit in contact with Karli’s crotch made you groan, throwing your head back slightly and closing your eyes.
Karli thought you were a dream, someone so sweet and angelic was moaning at her touch. A sense of urgency came over her, the need to have you say her name over and over so the whole house knew, so that no one could ever think about taking you from Karli.
The Flagsmasher gripped your hips and began moving you, dragging your pussy over her crotch. Your moan filled the air, if it weren’t for the party downstairs you would have been embarrassed, but being on Karli’s lap, you couldn’t think of anything else but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.
“You're so needy, huh?" Karli’s smile only widened at your loud whine, your hips moving faster over Karli’s crotch.
To shut her up, Karli gripped your hair and smashed your lips together, kissing you hard and letting you know that she needed you. She tugged on your hair, earning another moan which gave Karli an opportunity to force her tongue into your mouth, swallowing your groans of pleasure.
“Fuck, I wanted to do that long time ago.” She mumbled against your lips, looking with lust at your body before moving her lips down to kissing your jaw and neck, sucking and biting any piece of skin she could access.
“Please,” your moan of pleasure was much louder than before, “please touch me.”
“Quiet baby, you don't want us to get caught, huh? What would Sam think?" Karli whispered into your neck, chuckling at your annoyed whine. Even though Karli wanted to hear your beautiful sounds, she couldn't wait for another time when the house was empty. Karli had watched you from afar, keeping her distance for your sake and for Sam, for far too long. She can’t let you go now that she’s got a chance.
Karli pulled her head away from your neck and lifted your dress, admiring the lacy fabric that hid what she wanted to see. She used to dream about how the flimsy fabric would cling to your body, but now seeing it in person filled her with cockiness. She could do a lot now that you were here, in her room, on her lap. So many daydreams and fantasies Karli wanted to put into play.
“Stop staring and do something.” Your irritated tone was loud and clear, driving your message home as you gripped onto Karli’s curls and pressed your lips together, a messy and frenzied display of need.
“Yes ma'am” Karli joked and she dipped her hand into your underwear, using her thumb to rub your clit in circles. Her finger pushed into you not long after, earning needy pants as you tried to chase the feeling by grinding yourself on Karli’s hand.
“You look so hot riding my fingers on top of me" Karli sighed, running her other hand through your hair. Karli watches the girl with a smirk, choking on your moans and whines as she keeps her rhythm without a pause. Karli is aware that she can feel you clenching around her digits, indicating that her release is near. Karli pressed her lips back to your neck, leaving love bites in hopes to leave a mark.
“I’m gonna-” it was strained and nervous, as if you was unsure whether you could even speak at this moment.
“I’ve got you.”
It was all Karli needed to say, her own pleasure at watching you had made her fuzzy in the head too, just content in watching you ride her fingers and moan aloud into the empty room. A cord snapped in you and the tension that was rising within you had reached its climax, causing you to grip Karli’s shoulders and shudder, moaning into her curly red hair in hopes to drown the sound out. Karli’s fingers kept moving, pumping you through her orgasm.
There were a few moments of silent bliss, just you shuddering in Karli’s arms as you came, drenching Karli’s lap. But the supersoldier decided that it wasn't enough, that she needed to hear you scream. She wanted the whole party to hear it, to understand that you was hers to keep, hers to pleasure.
Before you could even process your orgasm, Karli had stood up from her desk chair and brought your blissed out body with her, keeping your legs around her waist so you wouldn’t fall. You would normally be surprised at this show of strength, but Karli was a supersoldier after all.
Still you gasped as Karli walked you both over to her bed, dumping you down onto the soft mattress. The sheets were nothing extraordinary, just blue and grey ones you would get for a teenage boy, but the look Karli was giving you as she stood in between your thighs, it made you gasp.
Karli couldn’t say anything, too numb in euphoria, and she hadn't even been touched.
“I need to fuck you.” Karli was rubbing your legs, pushing your dress up in the process. “Please let me.”
You could only nod, wanting so desperately for it to happen that all words seem to fail you. Karli smiled at the gesture and began taking your clothes off, pulling your dress over your head and unclasping your bra. She dragged down your underwear slower, wanting to see your wetness coated all over your legs and lace panties.
Karli only took off her pyjama pants, leaving her in men’s boxers and her sports bra; still, she looked hot.
Karli left you alone on the bed in favour of finding something hidden in a draw, rustling around until she found what she was looking for. You couldn’t lift her head up to see what was happening, too blissed out but horny for more. It wasn’t until you felt a hardness tap her thigh.
“What?” You sat up and saw Karli with a strap on, crawling onto the bed and ontop of you. Karli’s figure above you caused you to involuntarily buck your hips, even if the strap made you nervous.
“I’m gonna make you feel good, yeah?” Karli’s head was buried in your shoulder, moving her hips to tease the silicone head at your entrance.
“I don’t think I can take it.”
“You can.”
“What about you?” You were rambling, you hated yourself for it but the thick tension in the room was making you nervous. You wanted to badly for Karli to just fuck you, but Karli wanted to hear you speak.
“It’s double sided, baby.” Karli chuckled, kissing your lips tenderly. “I will feel everything.”
You looked down, noticing that the other end of the strap went through the front opening of the boxes and into Karli, a sight that made you choke on her own spit. Before you could even comment, Karli pushed into you.
It was slow, but the sheer length of the strap made you grip onto Karli’s back, pulling you closer so that your chests were pressed together. Karli groaned into your neck, trying to silence herself from being too loud by biting her own lip. The sensation felt painful at first, needing Karli to just stay still for a moment as you adjusted.
Karli slowly began to pump in and out of you, gauging for reactions on your face and kissing your cheek everytime you winced. Soon the pain turned to pleasure and you were whimpering and moaning for more, clawing at Karli’s back in an effort for your bodies to be closer.
“Does that feel good?" You can only groan and nod in response, Karli own sounds of pleasure filled her ears, spurring you both on to fuck each other. As Karli’s thrusting became more feverish, desperation overtook all of her senses. Karli began biting your shoulder, groping your boobs and tugging on your nipples. Her hands were all over your body, nothing was left untouched by Karli.
The redhead’s desperate touches turned into desperate ramblings, groaning into your ear and onto your lips.
"Fuck you feel so good, baby. I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you, so pretty in your short skirt. Do you know how long I've wanted to touch you, stayed awake just thinking of you moaning my name?” Karli’s thrusting grew harsher and faster, her ramblings muffled by kissing your lips. “Do you ever touch yourself at night thinking about me? Thinking about how good I’d be to you?”
“Karli!” You could only gasp in response as Karli’s free hand dipped between you both and began circling your clit again, quickening and slowing down in speed to leave you struggling. “Karli please.”
You could barely even focus on what Karli was saying as your climax built up steadily.
"Had to stay away from you even though you were so sweet and good to me; such a good girl.” Karli was still mumbling almost incoherent words into your ear, her voice breaking as she got closer to her climax. "I can’t let you go now, you feel too good to lose. Tell me you’re mine, tell me that you’re mine to have.”
"Fuck, I’m yours." You whine, nails digging into Karli’s sides as your core tightens around the strap.
It was all Karli needed to speed up her fingers on your clit and thrust you harder into your climax, equally bringing her to her own climax. You both came together, moaning into each other's mouths, then trying to silence it by sloppily kissing each other. Karli thrusted her hips a few more times to milk hers and your pleasure, both of you trembling at the overstimulation.
You kissed Karli properly now that your brain could focus on something other than Karli’s hips, hands, mouth, voice. You kissed each other for a bit more as you came down from the highs, both equally groaning as Karli pulled away and took the strap out of both of you.
You grabbed onto the nearest shirt you could find and pulled it over your head before tucking yourself into Karli’s sheets, the cologne and detergent smell that was so inherently Karli filled your senses and lulled you to sleep.
Karli put her strap away and walked back to the bed, climbing in herself and pulling you into her chest, kissing the top of your forehead.
“I’m serious, you know?” Her voice was low, it had you clenching your thighs together.
“About what?” Your voice was equally hoarse and quiet, now keenly aware of the people still in the house and possibly even right outside the bedroom door.
“I’m not letting you go, you’re mine.” Karli sounded possessive and demanding, a switch to the needy and sweet person that was just on top of you a mere minute or so ago. If you had known any better, it would have scared you. But in Karli’s arms, so content and blissed out, you felt safe. Like a blind mouse in a lion’s mouth.
“I’m yours.”
#lesbian#karli morgenthau#karli morgenthau smut#marvel smut#marvel women smut#lesbian marvel#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws#lesbian smut
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Light in the Darkness, Finale
I CHANGED THE TITLE USED TO BE CUPID IS SO DUMB
I will definitly most likely write some things to round out the whole story, but right now i really need to get some school work done.
just a lot feels likes its going on, but really nothing is happening and i'm just having a day
TW: PANIC ATTACK, please be advised Anxiety, Overthinking
Chapter Eight-> Meddle About, Chase Atlantic, Week 16
Lyrics: "We only met each other just the other day
But you already got me feeling some type of way."
It was dark in the storage closet you found refuge in, your knees pressed to your chest, face buried in them. Your arms were wrapped around your knees, wrapped so tightly that you couldn't even feel them over the pressure of your knees digging into your forehead.
Tears were streaming in waves down your cheeks, wetting your throat, seeping into your shirt and jeans. Your chest was tight, hurting with every hiccupped breath that left you.
You were panicking, your head being racketed by thoughts. It's as if they were trying to escape, but there was no where to go. The pressure was building, you knew you had to go, but there was no where to go. No where to go for these thoughts to just leave your head, and they were stuck, building with every passing second.
There was no salvation, no end.
How did you get here? Sitting in a storage closet, quietly rocking in place, trying not to break down and ditch class.
It wasn't what happened to you during lunch in between classes, no it was what happened to someone you like. Someone you were interested in, someone who occupied your brain 24/7 when it should be tests.
As usual, you were sitting at a secluded table. You preferred it that way, it was easier for you to pull out homework, or just people watch in silence. You never liked when people ate with you, it made you feel as if you were eating too slow or too fast, never knowing what the other person was thinking. Or if they were thinking at all.
A voice had caught your attention, pulling your eyes away from your phone. It was Abby, greeting her friends with that bright smile of hers. That smile that brough butterflies to your stomach, that smile that could translate into some many feelings that you didn't know how to handle them. That smile that broke your resolve into you confessing to yourself that you did like her, did want to be with her.
Abby was hugging someone, and of course it had to be Owen. His hand was positioned lowly on her back, bordering on her ass. His touch lingered, as if he wanted to do more than hug her. She acted as if she didn't notice.
She probably didn't want to cause a scene. Yeah, it had to be that. Right? They used to date, use to kiss. They probably did everything a couple does, even probably went further than kiss. You never experienced a full relationship. She wouldn't want to teach someone how to kiss for real, or how to make out. She probably didn't want to coach someone through a panic attack over holding hands in the mall.
Abby would go to someone who had more experience, someone who knew what they were doing. Someone who was more stable, who didn't allow anxiety to rule them.
It was as if something that was building just suddenly exploded, tears rolling down your cheeks. You threw your hoodie over your head, putting your things away. You didn't care how people next to you were possibly perceiving you. The weird girl who just started crying out of no where. It was hard to tell people your emotions, hard to open up.
Abandoning your table, you threw your bag over your shoulder. Keeping your head down, you walked quickly to the double doors of the cafeteria. You couldn't hear anything clearly, everything being muffled as pressure started to build in your ears.
Abby and Owen must have gotten back together. They had to have, she wouldn't want you. No one wanted you, they couldn't. You weren't worthy, your weren't good. You were a mess who didn't know how to help themselves, someone who disassociated at minor inconveniences, too tired to do anything more than watch movies on your phone mindlessly.
Pushing through the doors you weaved throughout the hallways. You knew where you were going, knew a place you could hide. You found it the first week of classes, when you were having panic attacks left and right after thinking you saw your ex in almost every face you saw. Brushing past people, you made it to the end of the hallway. There was a gray door, different since it wasn't a class room door. The classroom doors were a dark brown, easily being distinguished. But this door had the label, 'STORAGE', on the sign next to it.
Grasping the door handle you quietly open the door, sliding in, and closing it behind you. You flipped on the light, it flickering with a hum above your head. Throwing your backpack aside you went the back of the room, getting into your fetal position.
It's stupid. Stupid to think that in sixteen weeks, someone could fall in love with you. You've always been alone in a sense, even with your only relationship you felt alone. No one really understood how you felt about concepts, it never clicked. But you thought for sure this time, someone understood you. Something between you and Abby clicked, it was easy. But it was stupid to think that something could have been different with Abby, because it couldn't.
Abby pulled away from Owen, movement out of the corner of her eye catching her attention. It was you, hastily getting up. She watched you beeline towards the door, head down. Your hands were playing with each other, but it looked like you were flicking your fingers against your thumbs. She knew it was something you did to try to calm yourself down, to try to keep yourself from disassociating.
You told Abby you got into therapy, but only seeing your therapist when you went home on Fridays was beginning to be hard for you. You were going once a month, but before it was once to even twice a week to try to help you cope with your world of anxieties. When you were telling her about it, you tried to withdraw, and Abby didn't force you to stay, she waited. She was patient.
"I uh," Abby bit her lip, flashing a look to Nora, "I have to go." She started to take a few steps back to chase after you.
But Owen grabbed her wrist, a little too close to her palms. She flashed him a warning look. Mel wasn't there, but she could be walking in, she could be getting more mad at Abby for something she can't control. Owen was always too touchy, always pushing the limit. She doesn't like him anymore, she stopped a year ago.
"We haven't ate with you in forever," Owen complained. "Always working on that project."
"I've been busy, and I need to fix a few things," Abby stated, her tone biting. She then glared at Owen, "And maybe sometimes I don't want to see you," She yanked her hand away, making her way to the doors. No one called after her, actually Nora started chewing Owen out for how weird he was being. How weird he's been since they broke up. Abby smirked, proud of Nora as she left the cafeteria.
Where would you be? Abby knew you would stay in the building, you had too. You wouldn't miss class, you just couldn't. You've told Abby a lot about your anxiety, even about the little spaces you found to wait out your panic attacks. Is that what you were having now? How would she help you? She's never had to talk someone down from a panic attack, she's never even been around a person who was having a panic attack. Abby just knew she had to find you, had to let you know that anything that you were thinking about wasn't true, wasn't going to happen. That while she was there, there wasn't anything to be afraid of.
There was only one storage closet on this floor, and it was the closest to your lecture room you both had after this hour in between classes. You had to be there, but it was far from the classroom. Abby walked briskly, her legs taking long strides as she gnawed at her bottom lip.
There was something about you. Something that Abby couldn't place, she just had to be around you. Had to hear you laugh, had to know every little thing about you. She liked you, not because you caught her eye the first day of class. No, everyone preferred certain looks on people, but you were different. You were feisty, but kept to yourself. Your inner thoughts were crazy, weird, but it was you. You didn't try to be different in front of her, try to over sell yourself to be a friend. Actually, in a sense you tried to get Abby to stop pursuing you, leaving her on delivered for long periods of time. But Abby was patient, waited for you to start going to her.
She'll be patient, for as long as it takes to get you to understand.
Abby made it, stopping in front of a gray door. She could hear muffled breathing, it was erratic. Her chest ached, yearning to hold you close to her. Hide you from the world that made you think so much, that hurt you so much that you felt like you do everything wrong. The world that hurt your self-esteem. You may have a front that you didn't care, but Abby could see through it. You cared, cared so deeply that it was a pure sense.
Letting out a shaky breath, Abby slowly opened the door.
A muffled sound of a door creaking caused you to flinch, your heartrate impossibly speeding up in your ears. There was nothing to do, not in control of your body, it continued to shake from the continuous stress. Silent sobs wracked you, squeaks leaving you as you held in breaths to try to stop hiccupping.
The person who entered moved quietly, the door shutting softly. Their footsteps were soft, a light patting on the ground as they approached you.
"Hey," The voice was soft. It held so much emotion, almost choking the person who spoke with it. It was Abby, why would Abby be here? She should be with her friends. With Owen. Yet, she was still there, saying your name softly as she stopped in front of you. She crouched, a light touch coming to your wrists that were being gripped tightly together by your hands.
"Hey," She said again. Her voice pierced the fog of pressure in your head so violently it almost made the thoughts stop. Almost.
"Can you move your arms?" As Abby asked her question, she lightly tried to loosen the grip your hands had on each other. But you didn't move, your fingers straining to keep hold of your wrists. Abby tried again, a little more force behind her movement. Your hands gave up, letting go. She guided your arms down to your sides, her movement so soft it could break your heart.
Your body seemed to give up, letting go. You let your legs straighten, fatigued with the effort of keeping them tightly against you. Your head leaned back, mouth slightly open with strangled breaths.
You must have looked like a wreck, your pants soaked with tears. Your neck glistening with tears, face so red it must be comical. Why would Abby stay to help you? She shouldn't. You didn't deserve her. What did you do to deserve her help? Push her away? Be rude to her friends? Well Owen's her boyfriend now so it would just be worse.
"How can I help you?" Abby's voice pierced through the fog again, allowing you to have a rational thought. She wanted to help? How can she help you? How can she stop these thoughts from attacking you? To leave you alone?
"Just make them stop," Your voice sounded raspy, strained. It was as if you were screaming for hours, yet you barely used your voice today. Abby slowly intertwined her fingers with your own, you looking down at your hand. Why would she do that? She didn't have to.
"Hey," Abby whispered. "Look at me," Her other hand gently grabbed your jaw line, guiding your face to look towards her. Your eyes followed, but you stared at her neck, swallowing thickly. "Make what stop?"
Squeezing your eyes shut you huff, "The thoughts." It was hard to say, it felt like you shouldn't have let her know. You couldn't let her know what you were thinking, these were your thoughts. They hurt you and you alone, you shouldn't let people know. They didn't have to care.
"Stop the circle of thoughts," Abby murmured. It seemed to have clicked, the way you were thinking. The reason why you were panicking, the reason why you couldn't escape. If there wasn't a rational thought that was stronger than all of those irrational thoughts, then you couldn't break the cycle. You couldn't escape, your mind wouldn't let you.
Something soft pressed against your lips. It was confusing, shocking. Your shaking stopped as your mind went blank. What was happening? Why were you being kissed? Why was Abby kissing you? Her lips slowly left yours as you opened your eyes. She was blushing, her thumb rubbing against your jawline. She kissed you, she shouldn't have.
"You," The thought left you. There was nothing, the pressure was still behind your eyebrows, but there were no thoughts. Just confusion. Abby didn't meet your eyes, instead looking at your lips. This was a different kiss than the last time she kissed you. The last time she kissed you it was hurried, begging. But this time it was cautious, testing.
"I shouldn't have kissed you," Abby said after a few minutes, after your breath slowed down. The tears had stopped in your confusion as you just stared at her in disbelief. You knew she liked you, she gave you so many hints it was crazy. But you always talked yourself out of it. But here, now, there was nothing for you to use against yourself. Nothing to use against something you already knew to be true.
"I just didn't know what else to do, I didn't know why you were freaking out so I couldn't tell you it was wrong," Abby started rambling, her eyes still not meeting yours.
You squeezed her hand, causing her to stop talking. She looked to you, searching your face as you stared right back at her. She was nervous, chewing her bottom lip. The blush on her face was a beet red, bright underneath the pale light.
"It's okay," You say, voice cracking. To emphasize your statement, you leaned into the hand on your jaw, causing you to cock your head towards her. "I actually dreamed of kissing you," You whisper, feeling heat return to your cheeks. This time out of embarrassment instead of hysterical crying.
Abby seemed relieved, "I've wanted to kiss you since week six."
Blinking rapidly, you pinch your eyebrows together. Week 6? You didn't even fathom talking to her when it was week 6, you barely even knew why you were interested that time. How could she had know about you? And wasn't she with Owen again?
"You're with Owen," You echoed your thoughts, watching her shake her head.
"I used to be with Owen, but that was over a year ago," Abby says, going back to rubbing your jawline with her thumb. "I really want to be with you."
You frowned, biting your bottom lip, "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to know," She squeezed your hand. "Do you know what you feel?"
You did. You wanted to be with her. You wanted her to hold you, to help give you the confidence to face your fears. To help you know that you can fail and make mistakes, that you were still cared for despite your misgivings.
"I want to be with you too," You smile at her, squeezing her hand back. You met her eyes, seeing how her eyes shined at your confession. "I want to kiss you again, to actually kiss you."
Abby leaned in, just a few inches from you. It cause your heart to race, your chest to hurt. It didn't hurt in a bad way, but in anticipation. Like going down a rollercoaster that you loved, or walking into an interview.
"I can give you as many kisses as you want," Abby whispered, looking to your lips than back to your eyes. You licked your lips, nodding slowly.
"For what?"
Abby smiled softly, "Please be my girlfriend. Please let me love you the way you deserve, to help you out of the dark." She gripped your hand hard, as if anchoring you to the world. "Let me be the light you search for in the darkness, let me be the person who's there when you're lost."
It was an easy decision. A compelling argument really, and you nodded, closing the gap between the both of you. Her lips were inviting, soft. They lead yours as you both kissed, allowing you to learn and figure her out.
It was nice, having the light in the darkness found.
WC: 2,895
POSTED ON: 4/24/23
#Guys i changed the title last minute#god i should have wait#but here you go#abby#abby x reader#female reader#anxiety#tlou#tlou 2#tlou x reader#lesbian reader#lgbt#wlw#fem#reader#love#hurt#angst#pain#sad#e#Spotify
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On Deck
Chapter 15
Summary: Although they grew up in the same small town, Chris and Sam had both gone their separate ways a long time ago. Chris moved up to become a MLB star, one of the best in the business, while Sam stayed stuck in the same small town. But when multiple injuries ended the Red Sox prodigy’s career, he winds up back in the same small town he swore he’d never be back to. The past may not stay in the past any longer, as old wounds begin to creep back up.
Pairing: MLB!Chris Evans X OFC Samantha “Sam” Merrick
Word Count: 3,248
By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour
We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.
Warnings: None.
Previous | Main Masterlist | On Deck Masterlist
Sam squinted as the hot August sun beat down on her and Chris while they slowed to a stop at the crosswalk. “How is it that I’m out of breath and you aren’t?” She heard him practically pant, and he ran a hand through his sweaty hair as Sam stood still, her eyes on the small beach across the way. They were a few miles outside of town along the coastline of Connecticut, the cold Atlantic Ocean an enticing sight to her in this muggy summer heat.
She shrugged, raising her shoulders as she felt her tight tank top cling to her heated skin. “Over a decade of waiting tables has given me a lot of stamina,” she admitted, a smirk on her face as he laughed.
“I’m familiar with your stamina.”
“Well apparently yours leaves a lot to be desired,” Sam told him sarcastically, slowly moving as the light changed and falling into stride with Chris towards the busy beach.
He gasped, looking at her with an amused and over dramatic expression, moving to the side as a small family passed them. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that.”
Sam grinned and nodded her head towards the crashing waves.“C’mon, we better take a break or I’m afraid you’re going to pass out.”
He knocked his shoulder against hers then moved behind her as they descended down the short staircase, muttering, “I’m going to blame it on the fact I worked out so much the past few days in Boston.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, bigshot,” Sam laughed cheerfully, then they kicked their shoes and socks off, making their way to an empty space near the water and sitting on the sand. She was quiet, letting the sun warm her skin before she gratefully took a sip from Chris’ water bottle. “I really missed you, ya know.”
“I know, I missed you too.”
And Sam knew how much he meant it. The two of them had settled into a routine over this summer, only becoming closer and closer as each day passed. Between their trip to Mexico nearly a month ago, Sam learning to trust and rely on Chris more, as well as Sam and Riley basically living at Chris’ apartment had then made them completely intertwined. But that had also made the five days apart this past week even more difficult, and also made the relatively short distance between their small town and Boston feel immeasurably large.
When they had returned from Mexico, Chris had called Hank back at Sammy’s urging and told him that he wanted to come back the following season for the Red Sox, which had set a lot of things in motion. He went to Boston these past five days to have meetings for his upcoming broadcasting job, but had also scheduled a few consultations with doctors and physical therapists to check out his past injuries to see if coming back had even been feasible.
Sam hated being apart from him but was relieved he finally was going to get checked out. His jovial nature had been subdued since they’d gotten home from Mexico, Chris being more down as he got in his own head and felt the stress and anxiety about a possible comeback. He had been going through all the ‘what-ifs’ of if he’d be able to play again let alone if he’d be any good. Then add on the stress of broadcasting, a totally new venture, and Chris had been unlike himself the past month. Sam had been eager for him to go get checked out, knowing that he’d at least have an answer then and she had felt herself warm from the inside out when he’d called her on his way out of the doctor a couple days ago, excitement in his voice as he told her the doctor thought he’d be able to play again.
And while that elation was a welcome relief to them both, it was short-lived for Sam when she went into work each day. Things for her had become even worse, her boss still holding a grudge that she’d taken time off for vacation - for the first time in over a decade - and now was asking for a weekend off toward the end of summer so she, Chris, and Riley could go to Boston for a few days. Although she hadn’t mentioned it to Chris, her boss had been even crabbier and mean than normal, chewing Sam out for each and every misstep and yelling at her a handful of times every shift. She tried to push that from her mind though, not wanting to let it taint her time with Chris.
“Being in Boston without you just didn’t feel right,” Chris quietly admitted to her, Sam turning to watch as he leaned back slightly, shutting his eyes and practically basking in the sun.
Sam’s brows furrowed and she laughed slightly as she watched him, moving to pull her hair into a bun at the top of her head. “I’ve only been there once,” she chuckled quietly.
“I know,” Chris murmured. “But now it just feels weird to be without you for so long. I don’t like it.”
Sam sighed and watched the way the waves crashed against the shore, moving towards their feet before the water receded. “At least I got the whole bed to myself without you snoring in my ear.”
“Wow Sammy, I’m just here sharing my feelings about missing you and all you can say is that you were happy I wasn’t bothering your sleep! Some girlfriend you are,” Chris laughed sarcastically, moving closer to Sam and his eyes shifting to look up and down the shoreline curiously.
“Well I’m just speaking the truth,” Sam confessed, her voice quieting. “You know I missed you. I felt like… I don’t know. I just felt like something wasn’t right with you not there.”
“I love you, baby,” his low voice murmured as he squinted at her from under his long eyelashes. “And I want you to know that I really wanted dinner from that Italian restaurant I took you to when we were there but I didn’t get it. I’m saving it for when we’re together.”
Her head tilted back as she laughed loudly, Chris joining in happily. “Good, because I don’t think I could forgive you if you cheated on me with that gnocchi,” Sam admitted to him.
“We could have it when we go in a couple weeks,” Chris whispered as he reached a hand out to lay over her own. “Can Ify cover your shifts?”
A deep sigh escaped her as he brought up the elephant in the room, telling him, “Yeah, but Ken has been all over me so I’m not sure if he’ll give me the time off.”
“Sammy-”
“I know what you’re going to say, but we’ve been through this Chris. He’s my boss and I can’t seem to get a job anywhere else so I just have to deal with it,” she interrupted, her voice firm. “But even if I can’t go, I hope you’ll take Riley with you. It would mean the world to him.”
He looked at her with a frown on his face, silent for several long moments until he agreed quietly, “I will, baby.”
Sam nodded, falling quiet as well. The silence that had fallen between them allowed the sound of the waves and the nearby groups to sneak into their space, and before long they heard the giggles of a young boy, Sam looking to her right. “Hey look at that little kid,” Sam whispered, nodding her head over to the group next to them, eyes trailing on the little boy as he dumped a bucket of water over his head, laughing loudly as he wiped the water from his eyes with a grin. “Look how cute he is!”
She heard a small chuckle rise from Chris as he saw the boy, both of them quieting as they observed him for a moment before they returned their eyes to the water in front of them. Chris surprised Sam when he - as tentative as she’d ever heard him before - asked her, “...Do you ever want one of those?”
Her brows furrowed in confusion, glancing back to the family next to him, seeing the boy working on a sandcastle and replied quietly, “A sandcastle?”
He let out a short laugh, shaking his head as Sam turned back to him. “No, a kid,” he corrected.
She sighed, shifting uncomfortably. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted honestly, avoiding Chris’ eyes as she stared at the ocean in front of them. “I love Riley but taking care of him has been really hard.”
Sam could see Chris nod his head out of the corner of her eyes, his voice soft as he sympathized, “Well it doesn’t help that you were a kid yourself when you were expected to basically be his mom.”
She let out a large sigh, her brain racking through the fears that had been long-present in her brain. “Yeah, and I guess… part of me is afraid I’ll end up being a mom like mine was,” she confessed quietly to him.
“You’re nothing like your mom, Sammy,” Chris instantly said, his voice firm. “What you’ve done for Riley shows that.”
“Thank you, Chris,” she smiled, moving her hand out from under his to rest on his arm, another sigh escaping her. “But at this point in my life, I feel unsure about it.”
Chris nodded, shrugging and simply replying, “I can understand that.”
The couple were silent, Sam nodding a bit before she furrowed his brows and asked, “...Do you want them?”
“Honestly I haven’t ever given it a ton of thought. I think I’m focused on so many other things in life that I’m not wanting that, at least in the near future,” Chris shrugged before a smirk settled on his lips. “Besides, if we had kids then I’d have to share you and I don’t think I’m really into that.”
“Oh so now you’re just openly admitting how selfish you are?”
“Yeah basically,” he grinned with a loud laugh.
Sam laughed along with him but then moved her hand to lightly shove his shoulder with a smirk, telling him, “C’mon bigshot, I need to get you home before you burn that white skin of yours.”
She watched Chris laugh before grabbing a handful of sand and tossing it at her, making Sam give him a light shove once he got to his feet. The pair pulled their shoes back on then jogged their way back to the apartment, saying hi to Riley who was parked on the couch playing video games as they passed by to go take a shower. Sammy got in and out quickly, much to Chris’ protests, before she tied her hair up and tossed some clothes on before hurrying out the door to get to another grueling shift at the diner.
By the time she was finished, Sammy finally got a chance to look at her phone, seeing a text from Chris informing her that he and Riley had gone to the movies, leaving her an empty apartment for a while when she got home. But as Sam started the car and headed home, she passed by a familiar house with Lisa working in the front yard.
Impulsively, Sam turned the car into the driveway and climbed out, finding Lisa on her hands and knees planting something new in the dirt flower beds that lined her house. She watched as Lisa smiled brightly at her, pushing herself to her feet and brushing the dirt off her jeans and hands before she pulled Sam in for a tight hug.
“Hi honey, what are you doing here?” Lisa greeted her, her warm voice settling Sam’s stress from the long work day.
Sam’s shoulders relaxed as they hugged, pulling back with a smile and shrugging, “I just was going home from work and saw you so I just wanted to stop in for a minute.”
“You know I love it when you do. I wanted an excuse for a break anyway,” Lisa told her as she stepped back. “Where are Chris and Riley tonight?”
“They went to a movie,” Sam told her, following Lisa to the backyard, her eyes moving over the beautiful garden beds. “I don’t think Riley will come out and say it but he missed Chris like crazy this week.”
“Those two are thick as thieves now,” Lisa chuckled as she settled onto a patio chair, watching as Sam sat opposite her. “Although with how down Chris has been, I’m sure having Riley around has lifted his spirits.”
Sam’s brows raised and she bit her lower lip, asking the older woman, “So you’ve noticed it too?”
Lisa nodded with a frown on her face. “I’m just glad he isn’t full on sulking like he was after his last surgeries.”
“I hate seeing him so stressed about everything. I’ve been trying to think of ways to cheer him up,” Sam confessed, feeling thankful for the chance to admit this, especially to Lisa, who was someone whose opinion she held highly. “I worked doubles every single day that he was gone to save some money because I was sort of thinking about surprising him with a dog but I’m not sure.”
Lisa’s brows shot up and a wide smile spread across her face as she enthusiastically said, “Oh Sammy, that’s a great idea! Chris always loved our dogs growing up and he’s wanted one for a long time but obviously couldn’t because of traveling for all the games.”
“Do you really think he’d like it?” Sam asked, apprehension in her voice.
“He’d love it,” Lisa reassured her. “Do you have enough money? I’ve got some cash in the house.”
“No, I really want to do this,” Sam shook her head and declined the offer. “Chris does so much for me and I want to be able to do something for him.”
Lisa gave her a wide smile again, repeating the approval and telling her, “It’s going to mean the world to him Sammy.”
And Sam sure did hope she was right. She felt filled with those nervous butterflies as if she was in junior high again as she drove to the shelter, looking through all the dogs until she found the sweetest pooch who practically begged for her attention. She knew immediately how perfect he was and it took her hardly any time to have the papers signed and the dog and all the supplies for him packed in her beat up old car on the way back to the apartment.
The happy dog trotted alongside her up the stairs, his tail wagging wildly as he waited for Sam to unlock the door. When Sam pushed the door open, she heard the TV on and could see Riley on the couch. She saw him turn his head, Riley’s eyes going wide at the sight of the dog but when she held a finger to her lips, he stayed quiet.
“Hey, I’m home!” Sam called, holding the leash in her hand tightly as she kicked her shoes off by the front door. “How was the movie?”
Riley smirked, his eyes moving to look in the kitchen as he called, “I had to go out and get another popcorn halfway through because Chris ate it all.”
“I was hungry, okay!” Chris’ voice was indignant, and the sound of a cabinet closing echoed into the front hall. He made his way out of the kitchen but he was facing Riley with a plate in his hand and heading to sit at a bar stool. “But it definitely wasn’t a good choice. I’m having a sandwich now to try to soak up all the butter. I think that-”
Sam intently watched when Chris finally turned his head to look at her, but his gaze instantly dropped to the little innocent face looking up at him, making Chris stop all his movements. She could see the smile burst on his face as he exclaimed, “Hi puppy!”
Instantly he pushed himself off of the stool and came over to kneel down on the floor, holding his hand out to let the dog sniff before he started scratching him and asked, “Where did he come from? Is he that new neighbor’s dog?”
“Nope,” Sam replied, a small excited look on her face as she practically watched Chris’ energy level increase and spirits raise. “He’s yours.”
Chris’ eyes were confused as he picked his head up to look at her confusedly. “What?”
“He’s for you,” Sam repeated, eyes moving minutely to see Riley’s small grin as he hovered at the end of the hallway.
“For me?”
Sam bent down, gently unclipping the black leash from the collar around the dog’s neck, smiling as he happily moved closer to Chris and began kissing his face. “I know you’ve been a little stressed about everything lately so I thought that maybe having a pal to take with you to Boston when I can’t, go on runs with you, or to hang out with you while you workout might make you happy.”
Chris leaned his head back, laughing quietly as he scratched the dog’s ears and looked at her. “But I don’t… Sammy I just- did you use my card?”
She shook her head and placed her bag on the coat hook, looking at Chris from over her shoulder as she answered, “He’s a gift which means you aren’t allowed to ask questions so just enjoy it, okay?”
“Baby, I couldn’t love this more. I couldn’t love you more,” Chris admitted, shaking his head in shock practically. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“Well I did, so get used to it,” she laughed, reaching to run a hand through Chris’ brown hair before she dug into her bag for the few toys that the shelter had sent home with her. “His name is Dodger.”
“Hi Dodger, hi buddy!”
Chris’ loud laugh echoed in the apartment as Dodger practically leapt onto him, eagerly licking at his chin which only made Chris laugh even harder. He brought the dog over to the living room, sitting down on the large rug where he took turns between rubbing him, tossing a ball around and playing tug of war with the excited dog. Sam just sat and watched, her heart feeling so full at seeing the pure joy on Chris’ face as he endlessly poured his attention and love on Dodger. It was in that moment that she finally understood what Chris meant when he said that he loved to do things for her. She had always felt like she’d been a burden and had that nagging thought at the back of her mind constantly that Chris felt as if he had to do some of the things he did for her. But now she got it. She finally understood how much happiness it brought to be able to do things for the person that you loved and although she did so much for him, as Chris often pointed out, it felt good to be able to give him something tangible. For the first time, Sam was starting to understand what it was like to be in a real relationship, rather than the unhealthy ones she’d seen modeled to her growing up, and she knew that after experiencing just how good it was, there was no going back.
#on deck#chris evans story#chris evans fic#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans x ofc#chris evans writing#chris evans#chris evans x oc#chris evans x original female character#original female character#cevans#chris evans fanfic#chris evans ff#real person fanfiction#real person fiction#mlb! au#mlb au#chris evans au#mlb! chris evans#mlb!chrisevans#chris evans mlb
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Pre-Series Playlist #1 "In New Winslow"
Finally got my New Winslow playlists moved over to a professional spotify account that doesn't include my Workout Bangers or Atlantic City x 7 playlists. So time to share them over here
Noah and Olivia stayed in New Winslow in the seven years between the others leaving and the start of the series. This is what both wanted and they're both happy with their lives there. That said...
Crazy - Patsy Cline
"I know you'd love me as long as you wanted / And then leave me for somebody new"
2. Scared, Are You? - Better Than Ezra
"Everything you would be / Passed you like a ghost"
3. Castle on the Hill - Ed Sheeran
"And I'm on my way, I still remember /These old country lanes when we did not know the answers"
4. Get Better - Frank Turner
"She drew a line across the middle of my broken heart / And said 'Come on now, let's fix this mess'"
5. Back on the Chain Gang - The Pretenders
"To a place in the past we've been cast out of / Now we're back in the fight"
6. Goodbye in Her Eyes - Zac Brown Band
"She'd found what she was looking for / And I knew it wasn't me"
7. Blue Jeans & White T-Shirts - The Gaslight Anthem
"I'll love you forever if I ever love at all"
8. A Case of You - Joni Mitchell
"And I said, 'constantly in the darkness? / where's that at? / if you want me I'll be in the bar'"
9. So Far Away - Carole King
"Doesn't help to know that you're just time away"
(for real, New Winslow and Boston are only about 70-80 miles apart depending on the route you take. The physical distance was never it)
10. For the First Time - The Script
"We're smiling but we're close to tears / Even after all these years"
(more discussion with series spoilers under the cut)
I created this one in 2019, after Season One came out. There's a lot of references to alcohol weaved through it and at this point, I wasn't exactly sure which direction Noah's story was going to go in re: his alcohol addiction. Beyond the fact that it was a problem that needed to be addressed.
I also originally started this post with some explanation about each song, but so much of it just comes down to vibes haha. And there's only so many ways to say "Andrew left" or "Do you know what post-partum depression is?" before things get redundant.
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Turn the Record on and Wonder What Went Wrong (Preview)
Steve and Eddie circled each other after the final battle with Vecna. Steve was confronting a part of himself he had packed away so far in the back of his mind he’d never intended to revisit. Eddie was grappling with the fact that Steve had at best ignored him and his friends in high school and at worst cheered as the other jocks played hunt the freak with Eddie and his Hellfire cohort. Nancy breaking up with Jonathon didn’t help Eddie’s confidence in his new friendship with Steve either. Everything felt so fragile. Every touch felt like it was a statement of intent and neither Steve nor Eddie were quite ready to figure out what that meant. Eddie put his pent up energy into his music, churning out new songs for Corroded Coffin to try out during their upgraded Friday night gig at the Hideout. Turned out that being wanted for murder really upped your metal street cred.
Steve still worked at Family Video with Robin while they were both figuring out what their futures would look like. Nancy had surprisingly stayed in Hawkins after the final battle because she was able to get a differed start date from Emerson. The “earthquake” in Hawkins had made national news and Emerson seemed particularly understanding of Nancy’s request. Steve wondered if Dr. Owens and the feds had something to do with it. Nancy fit into Steve and Robin’s friendship with unexpected ease and the three of them often passed the long summer days at Steve’s house enjoying the AC Steve’s parents still paid for out of guilt they had left their only son to deal with the fall out of the Hawkins disaster alone. They would listen to old records Steve’s parents had left at the suburban mansion and put on aggressive false mid-atlantic accents while pretending to host fancy shindigs for important clients. Eddie and the rest of the party would join them often but no one else had slotted into Steve and Robin’s codependency as easily as Nancy.
It wasn’t that Eddie didn’t like hanging out with Steve and Robin and Nancy, it was that the Steve and Nancy of it all made Eddie’s skin itch. He didn’t know how to explain it without breaking the delicate tension between him and Steve. Eddie wrote about it instead. He wrote songs about boys with brown eyes and NPCs that were always just a little aloof and above whatever adventure the party was on. Thankfully the Corroded Coffin boys didn’t call him on any of it and let him work through the Steve Harrington problem via power chords and ballads. At some point, Eddie had written enough songs that the band was ready to send out a demo to labels to see if they caught any interest. On a whim, Eddie threw one of his ballads onto the end of the album. A song about a boy who was just out of reach.
Everything was everything
But baby it's the last show
Everything could be everything
But it's time to say goodbye so
Get your last fix, and your last hit
Grab your old girl with her new tricks
Honey, yeah, it's no surprise
That I got lost in your brown eyes
***
Spoilers for the fic ahead!!
***
So I should absolutely be working on my big bang story but this idea came to me and I had to start it. I was listening to You and I by Lady Gaga and I had this sudden vision of Steve buying the Hideout. I also thought about Eddie making it big and coming back to Hawkins for Wayne’s wedding to Claudia (I low key ship this so hard). Of course Steve would be hosting the wedding at the Hideout. So then I was thinking about other Lady Gaga songs that were Steddie-coded and Brown Eyes seemed like such an obvious one. I also might use this story to write some background Will / Gareth because I am becoming invested in that pairing, lol. Please sound off in the comments about what you’d like to see in this universe!
#steddie fic#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#rockstar eddie#bar owner steve#eventually#he will laze around with ronance for a while before they all get their shit together#because nancy deserves to relax a little and emerson will wait for her#also thinking robin will end up at berklee for trumpet and her and nance live happily ever after#eddie is blinded by stancy and misses all the cues that steve is giving#fanfic#should be working on my big bang fic#but#my playlist gave me brainworms
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