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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

Text

Daddy's Little Girl Pt. III

Pt III: Revenge

Pt. I, Pt. II

(Technoblade x reader, and Wilbur x Reader)

(brother tubbo and sister reader)

~~~

Sam’s eyebrow twitched as he eyed The Blade wearily, who stood with his arms crossed completely void of any weaponry. So far the Blood God listened to Sam, he had disposed of all his weapons in the chest and complied with all the prison security procedures. It was rare to see, Technoblade having no weapons and Sam being completely decked out in armor. The only thing the creeper hybrid couldn’t pinpoint was the motive, why did Technoblade suddenly have an interest in visiting Dream, it just didn’t add up. To protect the sanctity of his prison he had to figure out just why Technoblade was visiting Pandora’s worst and only prisoner.

“Technoblade?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you here?”

“I already told you that, didn’t I? I’m here for a friendly chat with my good pal Dream.” Sam pressed his tongue to his teeth and frowned under his gas mask, “What? Don’t believe me? How rude. Are you this mean to all of the visitors who enter your prison?”

“You don’t exactly have the best reputation around,” Sam grunted, while Technoblade made a sound and adjusted the mask on his face.

“Who’s talking bad about me?”

“Tommy.”

“Tommy’s biased,” he scoffed watching the lava slowly descend in front of his eyes. Sam trained his green eyes on Dream across the way,

“Technoblade. Does this have anything to do with Wilbur’s revival? Cause whatever it is you’re thinking I can guarantee it’s not-”

“Sam has anyone ever taught you to mind your own fucking business?” Technoblade snarled baring his teeth at the warden. Sam blinked a few times his grip tightening on his trident, Technoblade stepped on the platform and it sent him forward. Dream’s head was tilted to the side, his dirty blonde hair fell across his shoulders. His bangs fell in front of his face as his head perked up seeing Technblade,

“Technoblade to what do I owe the pleasure?” Dream mused tapping his foot against the obsidian floor,

“Morning Dream.” Technoblade mused cracking his knuckles, “we have a lot to talk about, but I’m going to cut right to the chase. Give me the revive book.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dream mused innocently, “Does this have anything to do with Wilbur being revived? Or a certain lady goat hybrid?” Technoblade growled viciously, “Does the name (Y/n) ring any bells?”

“How the fuck do you know her name?”

“Oops did I hit a nerve?” Dream mused his lips curling up into a grotesque sneer, Technoblade’s fist balled at his sides trying to keep his composure and not listen to the roaring voices who demanded blood be spilled.

“Answer the question Dream,” Technoblade demanded through gritted teeth. Dream dared to laugh in his face, “I’m assuming Wilbur shared that information with you?” Dream hummed softly neither confirming nor denying The Blade’s statement but he got the picture. Dream kicked off the wall tilting his head to the side a coy smile on his lips,

“I met her, and not just her ghost.” Technoblade’s entire body froze and he pushed Dream against the wall, his fist was curled around his jumpsuit.

“How?”

“When I revived Wilbur. She was there in his limbo, what happened to her horns I wonder?” Technoblade snarled deep in his throat, “Wilbur left her there you know? Did he mention that to you?” Techno wasn’t a fool, he knew what Dream was trying to do but kept his composure, not letting the master manipulator get under his skin.

“That’s exactly why I’m here. You’re going to revive her or I’m revoking the favor I owe you. I don’t care about morals, I care about bringing her back to me.” Dream grit his teeth,

“Well, how do you expect me to do that without Ghost-(y/n)?”

“Who says I don’t have her?” Dream’s eyes bulged in his head, he saw no invisibility particles,

“SAM!” Dream tried to shout as Technoblade covered his mouth, Dream saw the wall rippled beside him as a very hesitant-looking ghost came through the wall. Not even Ghostbur was able to do something of that caliber, but she again was a ghost longer than he ever was, she must’ve picked up some fun little tricks. She floated over to Techno and hid behind his shoulder, her grey eyes looked up at him,

“You promise I’ll get to see Ghostbur again if I do this?”

“Of course sweet one,” Technoblade responded watching her nod gently. Technoblade loved the alive version of you, and when your ghost came to him sobbing about Ghostbur being gone and Alivebur not giving a single shit. She begged him for help and he answered her call, he failed to do so before, and he wasn’t going to let the same thing happen twice. You wanted to be with the sweet warmhearted version of Wilbur, who was he to stop you, plus he would have the alive you back.

When you came back Technoblade wouldn’t let Wilbur have you again, he wouldn’t let anyone else lay a hand on you. Well, other than your little brother of course, even if he was an ex-president Technoblade wasn’t evil.

“You still can’t make me do it!” Dream snarled as you hid deeper against Technoblade’s shoulder, “Sam won’t let you.”

“I think Sam’s going to have something else to worry about.”

A roaring sound of explosions went off nearby, Dream’s eyes widened in horror.

“That,” He smirked, “Is the power of the syndicate. Niki really knows how to come through in a pinch. I won’t ask again.”

Dream grumbled assessing his options, on one hand, he could revive you and he’d still have that favor over Technoblade. Yet, on the other hand, he couldn’t use your resurrection for more of those future favors. Dream clicked his tongue, although he could use that to his advantage if she was alive once more.

“Fine. Come here,” He held a hand out to the little ghost, she looked meekly at Technoblade. He nodded and motioned his head towards his outstretched hand, she took Dream’s hand, and he muttered some words in another tongue that even the great Technoblade couldn’t decipher. A bright light surrounded your ghost’s figure, and in a matter of moments you, the alive you stumbled forward. You gasped for breath as you fell against Technoblade’s chest, you had a bright white streak in your hair, and dried blood on your head and by your nubs. You were breathing heavily, pupils were blown wide, as you looked up at Technoblade. He felt his throat close up and he removed the mask on his face,

“Where am I? Who...Techo?” You gaped cupping his cheeks within your palms, he melted into your hands with a soft whine he tried to cover up. “Holy fuck you look so old!” Moment completely spoiled and ruined,

“Hey Dream I changed my mind.” You yelped hitting him softly on the arm, “kidding.” He spoke tenderly trying not to show his soft side around Dream, he was a tough killer, not someone who melted at the sight of his old childhood crush. Technoblade turned towards Dream and saluted, an arm wrapping around your waist, “sic semper tyrannis, Dream.” He mused disappearing with you, Dream should’ve known the Syndicate set up a stasis chamber for their leader.

Technoblade held you tight so you didn’t tumble over, you did look a little green in the face, “You alright?” He spoke softly as the fresh snow of the Tundra tickled your nose. You reached out your hand to touch the falling flakes, it was almost like you were mesmerized by the sight of them. “Sweet one?”

“I can feel them. I haven’t felt anything in so long,” You whispered brushing your hair out of your face. “Technoblade...Did you revive me?” He swallowed thickly, your eyes held a certain look to them, sharp but eager.

“I did.”

“Why?” You titled your head to the side, pursing your lips. He turned his head away from you to hide the flush to his cheeks, your frown seemed to deepen on your features. “Technoblade, why did you revive me? I’ve been dead for...god how long has it been for you?” You sighed heavily, “What use is there for you to bring me back?”

“Wilbur-”

“Don’t mention his fucking name!” You spat harshly, eyes flashing a dangerous shade of (e/c), “That son of a bitch!” Your hands clenched at your sides as Techno’s eyes widened, he wasn’t used to you cursing but it made sense. “He left me in his limbo after he promised me we’d leave together or not at all! I’m going to beat the shit out of the bastard!” You snarled as Technoblade reached out and put a hand on your shoulder, he squeezed it lightly.

“That’s why I revived you. You didn’t deserve to get left there, you deserved to be resurrected more than Wilbur did. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were like Ghostbur sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t know about revivals. You would’ve been my priority, you should’ve been my priority.” Techno stared into your eyes as the rage swimming in them dissipated, instead, they were replaced with a fond look. “I don’t know what you and Wilbur had, but ever since I found out about your death all those years ago, I don’t live a single day without regret. I should’ve pushed for you to stay with us and Tubbo, I should’ve killed your dad the minute I set eyes on the bastard. I should’ve listened to the voices-” Technoblade grit his teeth and it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek, he came back to you as soon as he felt your touch against his skin. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the first-ever apology you’ve ever gotten and you felt a tear roll down your cheek at his words. Technoblade looked at you hesitantly and pulled you into a hug, he made sure he was gentle as to not hurt you further, “Stay with me?”

“I promise.” You whispered burying your face in the crook of his neck, “Thank you Techno.”

Maybe things would be okay for you after all. Maybe this one was different, maybe Technoblade wouldn’t let you down like so many have done.

“What was it like? Coming back?” Technoblade asked as he leads you in the direction of his once retirement home. He watched you tilt your head to the side rolling your bottom lip between your teeth,

“A train came and picked me up.” You looked distant for a moment as you remembered your resurrection.

Ghostbur was peeking over his handful of cards to look over at you, “Go fish?”

“Ghostbur this is poker.” You sighed pinching the bridge of your nose, he made a soft ‘o’ with his mouth his brow furrowing. He shuffled in his spot eyes flicking down to his cards then back up at you, “You don’t remember how to play do you?” He shook his head no in response to your question. You sighed softly brushing away the annoyance that prickled against your skin, “That’s alright come here.” He shuffled next to you resting his chin on your shoulder, as you taught the ghost the rules of the game once more, it seemed no matter how often you taught the ghost the rules he’d always forget something.

“You’re a really good teacher.” He murmured against your shoulder, “I’m glad I’m not alone here.” He refused to meet your eyes, “but…”

“You’d rather it be ghost me huh?” You hummed looking at him out the corner of your eyes, he wilted under your gaze and you chuckled sadly. “Don’t look so upset I’m not insulted,” You waved him off carelessly, “you loved her?” He stiffened sitting up straight,

“I- I don’t- she’s my blue you know? She’s so kind and wonderful! I just- she doesn’t like to be left alone-!” You placed a palm over his mouth to shut him up, you eyed him before removing your hand slowly. The ghost swallowed thickly and nodded, “I love her a lot.” His voice cracked a little in embarrassment, you smiled sadly, your finger gently caressed his cheek.

“I know you do. Cause I know how much she loves you,” He turned redder as you sighed softly,

“Do you love Wilbur?”

You choked on your spit, your entire face turning a dark shade of red, “Do I WHAT?”

“Love Wilbur?” The ghost repeated curiously, “You were so upset when he left you here.” You grit your teeth and punched the ground of the train station, you thought about all the time the two of spent in limbo. You had grown so close to the man only to have him rip apart that connection in a matter of seconds boiled your blood.

“Yeah. I guess I did, but the motherfucker ruined that the moment he broke his promise.” You kissed your teeth in frustration running a hand through your hair, “Whatever love that was it is long gone I’m afraid. Especially since time moves so differently here, it’s been years since he left me behind.” Your eyes glazed over as Ghostbur gently wrapped you in a hug, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Alive me is kind of a douche.”

You burst into laughter, a bright smile spreading across your lips, “You’re not wrong Ghostbur, ya know you’re pretty alright.”

“You’re pretty alright too (Y/n).” A smile spread across his lips, in a matter of seconds that smile vanished as a train horn sounded in the distance. Your entire body froze as you whipped towards the sound, you felt the air around you grow hot and your mouth go dry. “Hey, Hey,” Ghostbur cupped your cheeks pulling you in his direction, “Focus on me. I won’t leave you.” The rumbling of the tracks grew louder as the both of you stood up, another horn blared causing you to flinch at the noise, ears twitching. The wind whipped both you and Ghostbur’s hair back, he held tightly to the beanie on his head not wanting it to fly away. The train screeched coming to a stop right in front of the both of you, immediately you recalled the same scenario, years prior only this time Ghostbur was by your side. The doors creaked open and fog poured into the station, inside was Dream, but by his side was a ghostly version of yourself. She was fiddling with her hands, almost anxiously,

“(Y/n)?” Ghostbur breathed his hand extending shakily towards the ghost version of yourself, her eyes lit up like stars.

“Bur?”

“This is your stop. Off.” Dream commanded, forcefully shoving her off of the vehicle, she landed gracefully in Ghostbur’s arms. He peppered her face with kisses, tears spilling down her cheeks,

“You’re okay. I’m here now.” He spoke softly running a pale hand through her hair, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to be with you,” Ghostbur looked a little surprised, turning his head to look at your figure. You and Dream seemed to be having a staring contest with one another, “Plus…” The ghost of yourself murmured, “Someone really wants her alive.” That snapped your attention away from Dream, brows furrowing in confusion,

“Who would-”

“Tik Tok, you getting on the train or not?” Dream snapped impatiently, your stomach churned at the thought of riding with the masked demon. On top of that who would want you alive? Definitely not Wilbur, he seemed pretty content on leaving you behind, unless he felt bad. You cursed the way your heart hopefully fluttered at the thought, Tubbo probably doesn’t understand how to bring you back there wasn’t anyone else. You glanced over at Ghostbur who was still holding your ghost close to his chest, he gave you a gentle nod,

“I’ll be alright. You’re not breaking any promises, I swear. Go with Dream.” He reassured as you stepped onto the train in front of you, the doors shut on Ghostbur and your ghost they shared a tender kiss and you smiled sadly from behind the glass.

“Who wants me revived Dream?” You asked voice tense as the train pulled out of the station, he scoffed pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You’ll see. Just keep quiet or this is going to be a long trip for the both of us,” Dream turned back to the front of the train. You clenched your hands into fists and sat down in one of the train seats, Dream was right about one thing this was going to be a long train ride.

Technoblade placed a hand atop your head careful of your injured horns, you sighed looking up at him. Technoblade was never the best at comforting people, let alone comforting the newly revived but he would try, maybe not with words but with actions. He watched a smile spread across your lips, pink appearing on your cheekbones,

“Thank you for doing this for me...” You smiled softly, “Why else did you decide to bring me back to life Techno. I know you...there’s more to just your original explanation.”

Technoblade blinked in surprise and for a few moments he was silent, he was trying to process the proper words to describe why he did what he did. Plus Technoblade wasn’t any good with words, in the first place.

“I revived you because you never got a chance at life. You could be so good for this server, you’ve been hurt and done wrong even in death. If you want a peaceful life I can give that to you, or if you want revenge I can help with that too.” He watched your eyebrow quirk up into your head,

“Revenge?”

“On Dream, on Wilbur. Whatever you seek I’ll help you get it.”

“What if it means killing Wilbur a second time?”

Technoblade tensed his entire body stiffing, “If it comes to that yes.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

You reached up and brushed a finger across his cheek, he melted so easily into your hand, it was cold. “Lucky for you I’m not a murderer, but...revenge does sound very sweet,” You breathed eyes going half-lidded, “You’ll help me with that won’t you?”

“I’ve made a Syndicate,” Technoblade grunted, “Join it.”

“Yes. Thousand times yes.”

“You’ll need a greek alias,” Technoblade added as you both finally walked towards his house, smoke from the chimney curled in the distance and you smiled. You didn’t need another moment to think about it,

“Nemesis. What better than the Goddess of Revenge herself?” Technoblade hummed leading you inside, he seemed to deem that association representative of you and your goals. “Also, do you have any warm clothes?”

“None that will fit you,” He snorted and you huffed, blowing the white strand of hair out of your face. “Go upstairs see what you can throw together,” He motioned to the ladders "tea will be ready when you’re done.”

“Thank you Techno. For everything.” You whispered pecking him on the cheek before ascending the ladder in front of you. Technoblade stared at the spot you disappeared from for way longer than he should’ve, face a light pink. He was snapped out of his stupor by the teapot letting out a loud whistle signaling it was finished. Techno cleared his throat and poured both of you a cup, he remembered just how you liked it...or at least he thought he remembered. He heard the floorboards creak above him signaling you were moving around trying to find proper clothes for yourself, maybe he should’ve gotten more prepared.

Then again, that would have caused suspicion.

Once more he was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud knocking on his door. He grumbled under his breath and spotting a crow out his window, at least the guest was Phil. He opened the door and leaned against the frame, Phil stood there a nervous smile on his features,

“Uh hey mate.”

“What’s up Phil,” Technoblade’s ear twitched, “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“Ah, no worries, we won’t bother you then.”

“We?”

“Hello, big brother,” Wilbur mused with jazz hands popping out from behind his father’s elegant wings. Technoblade’s entire body tensed and he bared his teeth,

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“We’re living together-”

“He can’t stay on my land.”

“Techno, mate he’s you’re brother.”

“Yeah Techno don’t you care about your revived brother.” He mused pushing past the blade and walking into his house, looking at the decor. “Wow! Your house is shit!” Technoblade spun on his heel, absolutely livid, “Oh? Two cups of tea? Are you expecting someone? A date maybe?” Wilbur snickered holding up the tea that was going to be given to (Y/n), “Cinnamon?” His eyebrows furrowed, “but you hate cinnamon-” They all turned towards the ladder hearing the wood creak beneath it, you had fashioned one of Technoblade’s white button-ups into a shirt. One of his thicker belts was hanging on your waist, sinching it like a corset typically would, the bottom of the shirt flared out beneath the belt. You had a pair of his black pants, they were the smallest pair he owned and luckily fit you decently, his boots however did not fit you that way, they looked like they were swallowing your ankles. Wilbur’s eyes blew wide, his jaw-dropping to the floor, it took all of Technoblade’s strength not to rush over and shield you from his brother’s gaze.

You weren’t Wilbur’s anymore, you were his.

“(Y/n)? Who? How? Look at you…” He said tenderly, the cigarette he was smoking dropped out of his mouth and onto the floor.

“Wilbur.”

“You...You revived her?” Wilbur turned to face Technoblade, “How did you manage to convince Dream-”

“Easily.” You said stiff voice cutting through the air like a blade, “Cause he tried.”

“Darling that’s not fair,” Wilbur grabbed your forearms squeezing them tightly, “I didn’t want to leave you behind-”

“Bullshit!” You snarled ripping yourself away from him like he was made of fire, “You left me without a second look! The minute you saw a way out you didn’t hesitate to take it, you broke your promise!”

“Are you still hung up on that?” He asked groaning, seeing he wasn’t going to get his way the considerate way, “I had a plan.”

“No, you didn’t! If you did you would’ve revived me right away, as Technoblade did!” You argued motioning to Technoblade with a snarl, he smirked at his brother who glowered at him. “You’re a bastard Wilbur Soot, I loved you but you just needed someone convenient to you. I was a convenience.” Wilbur didn’t even deny your words and for some reason that hurt you the most, “You’re just as bad as my dad.” Wilbur saw red and before you knew it you were pinned up against the wall, his fist was reeled back ready to hit you, and before Technoblade could intervene Phil moved first.

He grabbed his son’s fist out of the air and held it tight, he gently pushed Wilbur away from you. Wilbur growled and ripped his fist out of Phil’s hand, and shoved them into his pockets. You stayed flushed against the wall, hands balled into fists at your side, Phil glared at his son,

“Step outside. I’ll join you momentarily,” He told Wilbur the man grumbled flicking the lighter in his pocket.

“Fine. I needed a smoke anyway.” Wilbur scoffed marching towards the door not before giving you one last look over his shoulder. Technoblade tensed fingers twitching at his sides, just begging for Wilbur to try something towards you. “I hope we can have a calmer conversation once you’re settled in my dear, sleep well.” Wilbur mused adjusting his glasses, “I know you don’t mean those harsh words, you’re just exhausted.” Technoblade watched you grit your teeth as Wilbur exited his home, as soon as the door clicked shut you were surrounded by an entourage of feathers. You made a frightened sound but the grip on your body only tightened, you calmed down the moment you realized it was Phil. You couldn’t process why the old man was hugging you, he barely knew you, and if he did he probably only thought you were Tubbo’s protective older sister.

“Phil…” You whispered quietly and you felt wetness on the skin of your neck, was he crying?

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry.” His voice quivered against your neck and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You couldn’t see Technoblade over Phil’s wings but you hesitantly tried to peak over them to find your safety net.

“Why exactly...are you apologizing?” You asked hesitantly, hands gently resting on Phil’s lower back. He pulled away from you now it was his turn to be confused,

“You...I didn’t do anything to help you back with your father.”

“Oh, there’s nothing you could’ve done. Really it’s alright-”

“Alright?! Alright! (Y/n) he let you die!” Phil exclaimed wings puffing up in shock, “I was the adult, I saw what was happening to you and I didn’t do anything to put a stop to it. I took Tubbo in because you pleaded with me too and because he was a child, but so were you- close your mouth don’t argue with me- I should have forced you to stay with us. You could’ve gone and visited your father but I should’ve taken care of you, if I did...maybe all of this wouldn’t have happened.”

“But that wasn’t what I wanted…”

“I shouldn’t have mattered what you wanted. I should’ve overruled you as the responsible adult...although.” He laughed wetly pulling away from you, “Back then I wasn’t a responsible adult, I’ve learned so much.” Phil shook his head, he reached out and cupped your cheek, “I’ll do better by you, we all will.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before fully pulling away from your body, he turned toward Technoblade with a weak smile. “You take good care of her alright mate? Don’t let her cause too much trouble.”

“I will.” Techno said with a stern nod, “I promise.” Phil nodded at him before smiling back over at you, he gave a little salute before heading out of the door. Your brows furrowed and Techno walked over to you, “You alright?” He watched you shake your head and he wrapped you in a tight hug, “It’s okay I got you.” You buried your head in his chest, your shoulders began to shake and Technoblade brushed his fingers through your hair. “I won’t leave you sweet thing,” he whispered more to himself, you were so emotionally fragile.

He wouldn’t let anyone lay a hand on you, if a single hair was out of place he’d paint the ground with their blood.

Frantic knocking startled him out of his stupor. Technoblade snarled against you and you felt his chest rumble, couldn’t he just be left alone for two seconds.

“You should answer,” You pulled away whipping your wet eyes on your sleeve “it might be important.”

“Nothings as important as you.” The knocking continued, just as loud and frantic and he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“It’s alright,” You smiled kissing his cheek, “open it.” Techno flushed and nodded opening the door so aggressively it was almost ripped off its hinges. Ranboo was outside and his brow furrowed. Ranboo wasn’t surprising but the government he was with sure was,

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t not tell him-”

Tubbo pushed past Technoblade releasing Ranboo’s claws from his hand. He lifted his bangs from his eyes to stare at you, oh my he’d gotten so big. The horns on his head curled around his ears mimicking your father’s, a golden ring fits snuggly on one of them. His hair was longer than you would’ve liked, it covered his beautiful eyes, but even so, it fits him well. The only thing that concerned you were the scars littering the left side of his face and body, and the nuclear symbol that seemed to replace his electric green eye on the same side. You saw his eyes grow glassy as he reached out to you, you couldn’t help but think he must be so disappointed in you. Your horns were nubs, ears were torn, your hair had a permanent streak of white, you probably looked so much older, so much weaker.

“(Y/n)?” His voice cracked stumbling forward to grasp your shoulders,

“Hey, bumblebee.” You spoke weakly holding up your hand, “You’ve gotten so big-” You were cut off by him engulfing you in a hug, you were taken aback, he should be screaming and yelling at you. Why wasn’t he angry?

“I missed you so much!” He sobbed against your chest, “Please, don’t ever leave me alone again.” He was trembling in your hold, his hands clutched at the back of Technoblade’s shirt, his breathing was shallow. “I love you,”

“I...I love you too Tubs…”

“Promise you won’t ever leave me again.”

“I promise.”

~~~ Wilbur "gaslight and gatekeep" Soot everybody Tag list:

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breakyeol · 3 years

Text

— WHAT HE LOST

So you got dumped. It sucks, but hey, at least you’ve got your best friends who always seem know exactly what to do to help make you feel better.

┗ Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader x Baekhyun

Genre: friends to lovers au, angst, fluff, smut

Words: 12.8k (I wish I was kidding)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, drinking, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of cheating, explicit sexual content ; dom(?)baekhyun, switch sub!chanyeol, switch!reader, their roles ended up being very blurred, you’re the bologna in a chanbaek sandwich, threesome, very mild dirty talk, teasing, oral (f. & m. receiving), gentle throat fucking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, squirting, yeol just wants to be a good boy but baek just wants to break the headboard

A/N; the poll I did for this fanfic was so fun!!! I seriously love interacted with you guys and receiving your feedback! I definitely think it’s something I’d like to do again in the future! I hope you guys enjoy the results! PS, I low key suck at writing endings sorry loves.

It’s half past two when you show up in front of their door, clothes soaked and heavy from the rain you hadn’t bothered to shield yourself from, heart bruised and aching from the ruthless beat down it had been forced to endure. It’s been a really long night.

Chanyeol is the one to finally open the door, face flushed and swollen, pink lips dry and pouted, dark hair unruly and disheveled with a ridiculous cowlick you would find incredibly amusing if not for the crushing weight of the night’s previous events still weighing heavily on your chest.

“Y/n?” He rasps, blinking hard twice, as if he hadn’t recognized you at first. You wouldn’t hold it against him, you probably look like a drowned rat in your current state.

A shaky grin pulls at your lips, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Hey, Yeol.”

His brows furrow and he swipes a large hand down the length of his face. “What time is it? What– what are you doing here?” There’s no malice in the question, only drowsy confusion as he tries to put the puzzle pieces together in his sleep hazed mind.

Instead of answering, you tip your chin forward and ask one of your own. “Mind if I come in? It feels like my fingers are about to fall off.”

All of a sudden his eyes pop open real wide and he gasps, as if just then realizing that you were standing outside his door in the freezing night air, drenched to the bone. He immediately ushers you inside, appearing genuinely distraught. “Jesus, you’re soaked. Did you walk here or something?”

Combing your wet hair out of your face, you offer a blunt nod of confirmation. “Yup.”

His jaw drops and he splutters in disbelief. “You walked here? In the pouring rain? Are you insane?! It’s the middle of the night! Something terrible could have happened to you! And you’re not even wearing a coat!” He gestures wildly at your waterlogged t-shirt and jeans, all drowsiness gone from his eyes.

“I’m fine, Chanyeol.” You sigh, moving past him and into the warmth of his apartment.

“Y/n, that really wasn’t smart. You should’ve called me.” He insists in that disapproving tone that reminds you of a parent scolding a petulant child.

You turn to him with raised brows, the vague outline of amusement tinging your words, “Would you have woken up?”

“You should’ve called until I did,” he shoots back without missing a beat, following close on your heel as you make your way into the living room and fall onto the couch with a soft grunt, “or you could’ve tried Baekhyun. Or literally done anything other than walk all the way here in the middle of the night in the pouring rain.”

He’s right, of course. It was dangerous walking alone at night, no matter how tough you think you are, bad things can happen to anyone. But the danger of walking the streets at night hadn’t been so much as a second thought when you left. There were far more prominent concerns plaguing your mind.

“Yeah, well.”

A beat of silence passes, and you feel the shift in Chanyeol’s gaze. You don’t dare to look over as he sinks into the space on the couch beside you, though all you really want is to lean into the comforting warmth of his body.

“Hey... are you alright?”

A painful lump forms in your throat at the question. “I—” you wince as your voice cracks, words falling dead on the tip of your tongue. Fuck. Why was it so hard to say?

“Y/n?”

The way he says your name nearly shatters the dam, and you just barely manage to pull yourself together enough to avoid turning into a sobbing mess on his couch. Snagging your lower lip roughly between your teeth, you offer a weak hum that pitches strangely in your throat– which most definitely does not go unnoticed by the boy who knows you too well for your own good.

Chanyeol’s concerned eyes sweep over your expression, those damn eyes that can see right through any mask you attempt to wear, before he speaks again in a voice so soft you could feel the steely grip around your heart ease. “Let me get you something dry to wear. Then we can make some hot cocoa and you can tell me what happened, okay?”

The idea of being dry and warm again was more than appealing enough for you to force the corners of your lips upward and manage a light nod of agreement. “Yeah.”

He shoots you a sweet smile, reaching over with a large hand to affectionately ruffle your wet hair and pushing himself off of the couch before you can retaliate. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move, I don’t need you and all your drippiness flooding the apartment. I’m pretty sure you’ve already ruined our new couch.” He teases lightheartedly, that familiar bubbling laughter erupting from his lips as you swing your middle finger up at him.

You feel yourself deflate somewhat when he vanishes into his bedroom, leaving you alone once more. It was unusually quiet. Though understandable given the time, you aren’t used to the silence of the apartment and find yourself craving Chanyeol’s booming voice and Baekhyun’s obnoxious teasing. Without them, there’s nothing to distract your scrambled mind, and you can’t stop it from lingering on the frustration and sense of betrayal that torments your heart. Squeezing your eyes shut, you sink into the plush cushions, a soft groan escaping your tensed lips.

This. Sucks.

Luckily, you aren’t alone long enough to dwell on it too deeply.

Your head snaps up at the sound of a door thudding shut, a murmur of gratitude on the tip of your tongue, but you are surprised to see a very much still half asleep Baekhyun come stumbling into the living room, donning a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt that hugs the gentle swells of his chest. His eyes are barely open as he all but throws himself onto the couch, immediately curling up into your side. You only chuckle, nuzzling your nose into his cinnamon scented hair and petting down his unruly bed head as it tickles your chin.

“You’re wet.” Is the first thing he murmurs into the silence, voice thick and hoarse in his throat. You can’t suppress the shiver that ripples down the length of your spine as his warm breath washes over your icy skin, the sharp contrast in temperature startling to your senses.

“I didn’t notice.” You hum, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

“And cold.” He grumbles additionally, arms coiling tightly around the curve of your waist and tugging you flush against him. The heat of his body is more than welcome, and you’re happy to allow him to cuddle into you. It’s easy to find comfort in his familiar embrace.

“Chanyeol is getting me something else to wear.”

His head tips back at that, and you have to draw away to keep your noses from colliding. Hooded eyes drag slowly over your face, warm and searching. You swallow nervously under the intensity of his scrutinizing gaze and quickly turn away, hoping he hadn’t seen the tell tale signs of your internal turmoil. But it seems both of your best friends are more observant than you give them credit for.

You jolt in surprise as he suddenly grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to face him again. The unexpected proximity has warmth rushing into your cheeks, and you clear your throat, eyes looking anywhere but his face. Nonetheless he still manages to read you like the pages of a children’s book.

“You’ve been crying.”

Instinctively, you try to put some distance between you and him, swatting his hand away and plastering an unconvincing scowl across your face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His lips part, and you brace yourself, knowing by the look on his face alone that he’s going to push the matter.

“Ah, Baekhyun, you’re awake.” You let out a breath of relief as Chanyeol steps out of his room, a set of black sweats and a towel draped over his arm. Perfect timing. Baekhyun nearly topples over as you jump up from the couch, quickly making your way over to where the younger boy stands. “Y/n, I got y—”

“Thanks, I’ll go change.” You rush out, cutting him off abruptly as you pull the clothes from his arms. You manage a quick smile of gratitude before you’re hurrying past him and into the bathroom, slamming the door more harshly than you intended behind you.

Very subtle, y/n.

“Fuck.” You hiss through clenched teeth, silently cursing yourself out.

Moving towards the sink, you stare at your disheveled reflection in the mirror with a weak grimace. You knew you looked like a mess but damn. You really look like you’ve been put through the wringer tonight. Which, of course, you kind of had been, but still.

It takes longer than you anticipated to wriggle yourself out of your wet clothes, nearly falling on your ass more times than you care to admit out loud in your numerous attempts to peel off your jeans. But in the end, it was more than worth it to feel the soft, warm fabric of Chanyeol’s oversized clothes against your skin. The faded scent of his aftershave eases the tension in your shoulders, but you can’t fight the buzz of nerves that come to life in your stomach as you step back out the door.

The rich, sweet scent of hot chocolate is the first thing to greet you upon your return. Noting the emptiness of the living room, you come to the quick conclusion that they’re both most likely in the kitchen. On quiet feet, you shuffle over to the entrance, peeking your head around the wall. They’re facing away from you, leaning against the island and exchanging whispered words, voices just low enough that you can’t make out what they’re saying. Though, there’s little doubt in your mind that you’re the subject of their heated conversation.

Deciding to make your presence known, you clear your throat and step onto the cool tile. Two heads whip in your direction, startled. The looks on either of their faces makes you think of two children being caught doing something they definitely should not be. Exactly... what had they been talking about?

Chanyeol is the first to move, plucking up the mug from the countertop and making his way over to you. “Extra marshmallows and extra whipped cream with a pinch of cinnamon,” he says, a soft smile on his lips and a warm blush on his cheeks, “just how you like it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, grateful for the warmth of the smooth white ceramic against your palms. “Thanks, yeol.”

“Let’s sit!” Baekhyun exclaims before you can even take a sip, hands finding your shoulders and steering you back towards the couch. You’re too focused on not spilling the contents of your cup to make any sort of objection.

It’s only when squeezed between their two bodies on their slightly too small couch, their concerned but curious eyes burning into the sides of your face, that you begin to wonder if it was the wisest idea to come here. But then remember just how badly you were craving a good hug and sigh, knowing if anyone was gonna give you one, it’d be one of these two dopey boys.

It’s obvious neither of them are going to speak first, probably not wanting to push you incase you weren’t ready to talk about it yet (though, the intensity of their stares were doing just that), so you decide to take the initiative before the awkward tension can get even more unbearable.

“We broke up.”

You bring the mug to your lips, taking a tentative sip of your gradually cooling hot chocolate as you allow them to absorb the new information.

“Well, shit.” Baekhyun coughs. Chanyeol reaches behind you to smack the back of his head, hissing something about being insensitive but you’re already more than aware of how they feel about your boyfriend— ex-boyfriend.

Since you first started talking to him, neither of the boys were his biggest fan. To their credit, they tried their best to be supportive, but it was hard to miss the dampening of the mood whenever you brought him up and the glares they’d shoot in his direction when they thought you weren’t paying attention. You called them out on their passive aggressive behavior on a number of occasions, and they were always quick to defend themselves with the claim of getting ‘bad vibes’.

Looking back, you probably should’ve given their suspicions some deeper consideration.

But you had just liked him so much. It was hard for you to see past the handsome, charming exterior to what really laid beneath. Gilded boys had always been your weakness, always enchanting you with the prettiest of lies only to shatter you with their ugly truths.

You should have known better.

“Are you alright?”

You shrug, sucking your lower lip into your mouth with a heavy exhale from your nose. “I’m fine, really. I’m just... embarrassed, I guess.”

Baekhyun blinks at you in confusion. “Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed? He should be the embarrassed one for losing someone as amazing as you.”

“I’m embarrassed because—” you wince, bracing yourself for the response that you just know you’re about to receive, “because he dumped me.”

“What?!” Chanyeol erupts, nearly making you spill your hot cocoa from the sheer explosiveness of his reaction, “you let that literal piece of walking human trash—!”

“Chanyeol.”

At Baekhyun’s sharp interruption, the emotional younger immediately slumps, guilt painting his face as he looks at you with remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You only smile, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“So,” Baekhyun begins cautiously, “what happened?”

No point beating around the bush now. “We were hanging out at his place. I found a pair of underwear that weren’t mine in his bedroom. Confronted him. He called me a clingy bitch and told me to get the fuck out and never come back.” You say this as nonchalantly as you can manage, but your hold on the cup tightens substantially and an unmistakable thickness rises in your throat. You curse yourself silently for feeling like shit over a guy who obviously couldn’t be bothered to give even half a shit about you.

“He cheated on you?” Chanyeol leaps up from the couch, eyes wide and furious. If you were to look close enough, you were almost certain you’d see fire burning within them.

“That fucker.” Baekhyun all but snarls, hands balling into tight fists. “What’s his address?”

“Baekhyun—” you sigh, leaning forward to set your hot chocolate down on the coffee table.

“No, I’m dead serious, what’s his address?” He pins you with a look that tells you he is very much not messing around. They were being ridiculous, angry over things they couldn’t change. It was pointless and harmful to dwell on things that had already happened. You’d much rather pick yourself up and move on than allow yourself to keep hurting over a stupid boy.

Of course, that’s easier said than done. And your best friends are not the types to just let things go. Not when the people they care about are wronged.

Chanyeol seems to be off in his own little world, ranting furiously to himself while cracking his knuckles in a way that is probably meant to be intimidating (though, to you, the giant puppy is anything but). “There’s no way I’m letting a piece of shit like him get away with this. God, I knew he was a scumbag the moment I laid eyes in him. I should’ve—”

“Guys, please.” Your voice cracks when you finally intervene, and that’s all it takes for their immediate anger to fizzle out.

The tension in their shoulders melts, their features softening drastically as they spot the glistening of tears in your eyes despite your feeble attempts to blink them away. In an instant, they’re cuddling back up against you, murmuring soft apologies and pleading for you not to cry over someone like him. But the dam is already broken, and salty tears are swelling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks before you can stop them.

Everything you’d been holding back comes bubbling violently towards the surface. Sobs wrack your chest, and you cling onto the hands of either boy as they watch you helplessly.

Chanyeol, the big softie that he is, has to bite his lip to keep the tears threatening to swell in his own eyes at bay. He’s never been good at holding himself together when he sees you hurting. He feels everything with his entire being, his empathy for his friends and the people he cares about on another level. But that big, stupid heart of his is one of the many reasons you adore him.

Baekhyun, on the other hand, is not the most suave when it comes to comforting people. Most of the time he’ll try to crack jokes and make light of the situation, but he knew better than to break out his usual antics when you were in such a state. So he held his tongue, opting to wrap his hand around yours in hopes of comforting you in even the slightest.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” You groan once your sobs subside into sniffles and you feel the warm flush of embarrassment filtering into your cheeks at your own outburst. You really hated crying in front of people. So it wasn’t too often that your friends, or anybody for that matter, saw such a raw display from you. “It’s just so frustrating and humiliating, you know?”

There’s a moment of silence as you wipe the tears from your face with the hand not held in a death grip by Baekhyun. It’s the nice kind of silence though, the kind you don’t have to fill and don’t really want to, encasing the three of you in a little bubble of comfort. Of course, with these two, you can’t expect it to last long.

“If I ever see him again,” Chanyeol huffs, dropping his chin onto your shoulder, “it’s on sight.”

You laugh at that, the sound hoarse and nasally and just plain awful, but genuine nonetheless. Raising a hand, you comb it through his soft black locks in a show of gratitude.

“Baek?” You turn to him with a sniffle. He hums softly in acknowledgement, tracing comforting circles against the top of your hand. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“What? Is my hot cocoa not good enough for you?” He teases light-heartedly and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“It’s delicious. But I was thinking of something… a little stronger.”

A mischievous grin upturns the corners of his lips as he realizes what you’re suggesting. “I’ve got just what you need.”

“You know what, FUCK MEN. They’re all stupid. Who needs ‘em? Not me.”

“Yeah men are assholes!” Baekhyun agrees loudly, thrusting his empty shot glass in the air, before pausing and reconsidering his words. “Wait, I’m a man.”

“You and Yeol are the only exceptions.” You reassure, slapping your hand down on his shoulder. He grins widely at that, satisfied. “But every other man— they can all suck my dick,” you continue your tirade, swinging your hands around animatedly, “they’re all liars and cheats and idiots and I’ve had enough of they’re bullshit to last three lifetimes.”

Chanyeol giggles softly from where he’s situated on the floor between your legs which are draped lazily over either of his broad shoulders, his head resting on your thigh, obviously amused by your tipsy antics.

The first shot went down hard, more bitter than your resentment for your piece of shit ex-boyfriend. The second soothed the ache in your chest and allowed for the tension in your muscles to gradually ebb away. And the third? Well, you opted to take your time sipping on that one, not wanting to completely lose yourself in the intoxicating buzz.

You were never the biggest drinker, but sometimes a few shots of something a little stronger than beer helps take the edge off. Right now seems as good a time as any for some liquid courage.

“You wanna know the worst part?”

However, one of the biggest reasons you erred on the side of caution around alcohol was because you had a tendency to spill things that didn’t necessarily need to be exposed. Especially not to your tipsy best friends at three in the morning when emotions ran high and couldn’t be easily stifled.

“What?” Baekhyun leans closer, eyes wide and burning with curiosity at the sudden somberness of your voice. Chanyeol tilts his head back at the shift in tone, looking up at you through dark lashes.

“In the three years we were together,” the two boys strain their ears as your voice drops into a careful whisper, as if someone other than them was around to hear the secret you hadn’t dared to share with a single soul up until this point, “he only ate me out once.”

For a moment, you think the disbelief that flashes across their faces is because you’ve brought up something of a sexual nature. But that thought is quickly squashed.

“Once? In three years? Is he insane?!”

“Shows what kind of man he really is.” Baekhyun scoffs, clicking his tongue. “Did you go down on him?”

You nod in reluctant confirmation, still sober enough to feel the slightest pinch of shame at your admission.

“That’s not how it works! Sex is about give and take, balance,” Chanyeol enunciates the word carefully, and you can’t help the upward twitch of your lips at the seriousness of his expression and the passion behind his words, “You can’t just receive without giving anything back!”

“He said he didn’t like it. And he only did it that one time because we fought on my birthday two years ago and he felt bad.” You explain, pouting heavily as you recall all the times he refused to go down on you.

Baekhyun blanches, jaw dropping. “You haven’t been eaten out in two years? Oh, baby...” you can feel the empathy rolling off of them in thick waves as they allow the new information to really sink in.

“I know, I know! Please don’t make me think about it anymore.” You whine distraughtly, rubbing your hands roughly down your face as frustration and annoyance bubble up inside of you. “I’m already pent up enough as is. That selfish bastard— he couldn’t even make up for it with his stupid dick either. He was all talk when it came to things like that. He only ever cared about getting himself off. It didn’t matter if I felt good as long as he could get his dick wet. What bullshit! Do you even know how many orgasms I had to fake?!”

Everything you’d kept inside comes exploding out of you in a rush of fiery passion, refusing to remain bottled up for even a moment longer. But of course, the moment it’s out and unable to be taken back, you regret saying anything about it at all. Red hot embarrassment floods your senses and you sink in on yourself, slapping a hand over your offending lips.

Damnit. You really shouldn’t have taken that third shot.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. That was— I shouldn’t have—” you attempt to backtrack, mouth twisted into a grimace.

There’s an exchange of glances that you don’t see, too wrapped up in your own humiliation to notice.

Then, a gentle hand slides over your thigh and you jolt in surprise, head snapping up to find a very serious Baekhyun looking back at you. You’d never seen this kind of expression on his face before. It was different then his usual playful grin or teasing smirk. Darker, somehow... dangerous. Like he was looking right through you and seeing everything you’d kept so carefully bottled up inside. It incites within you a vulnerability you had long forgotten.

“When was the last time you came?”

The question catches you off guard, to say the very least.

“Shit, i-it’s not like I keep track.” You laugh weakly, trying not to focus on the warmth seeping into your lower belly or the proximity of their bodies. But then his fingers are feathering over the curve of your knee and your heart is picking up speed and you’re left wondering at which point this conversation took such a turn.

Between your legs, Chanyeol shifts and your gaze snap down just in time to see him turn to face you fully, something dark and unfamiliar stirring within those big brown eyes. On instinct, you try to close your legs, but the sheer largeness of his body nestled comfortably between them prevents you from doing anything of the sort.

There’s no ignoring the rush of heat that ignites in your core, the closeness too much for your body to process all at once, only fueled by the long neglected desire for some kind of release.

And the fact that all he needed to do was get just a little bit closer—

But those are most definitely not the types of thoughts you should be having about your best friends. No matter how attractive they are. No matter how good Baekhyun’s pretty hand feels, slowly edging it’s way higher and higher up your thigh. No matter how cute the look on Chanyeol’s face is, a searing blush turning his full cheeks a fiery shade of red that easily consumes the entirety of his handsome face.

Fuck. Why was he looking at you like that?

“Y/n…”

Oh god. Why did your name have to sound like that coming from his lips?

Baekhyun’s fingers find your chin, gently coaxing your attention away from the man kneeling before you and back onto him. Your breathing has become shallow and fast, the insufficient amount of oxygen making you feel somewhat lightheaded. But the sensation is not a wholly unwelcome one. Not when his own smooth, liquor stained breath is like ambrosia on your tongue— heavy and rich and dangerously tempting.

“That piece of shit couldn’t make you feel good, could he?”

“No.” You swallow around the word, willing your treacherous eyes away from the entrancing curve of his pink mouth.

“No…” he repeats softly, tracing his thumb lightly over the flesh of your lower lip, “but I can— we can.” He lowers his gaze, tempting yours to follow as he ticks a brow at the younger boy. “… can’t we, Chanyeol?”

“Yes.” Chanyeol breathes without a moment’s hesitation, nuzzling his nose against the inside of your knee, warm fingertips teasing the cool skin of your ankles before he’s quickly amending, “if it’s what you want.”

Baekhyun’s lips feather over the shell of your burning ear and you feel consumed.

“Do you want it?”

“This is crazy.” It’s a deliberate avoidance of the question and you both know it.

He cocks his head, the corner of his lip curling into a teasing little grin that makes you feel like he can read your mind. “Is it?”

Yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue. But you would be a dirty, filthy liar if you said it had never crossed your mind.

The thought of you and them.

Usually one... sometimes both.

But those had just been fleeting fantasies when nothing else could satiate the unrelenting heat in your belly, shameful fantasies that, for the most part, you kept locked up tight in the furthest corner of your mind and only let out at the darkest hour of the night, when the midnight winds carried away the trembling breaths of their names, a whispered secret shared only between you and the moon. Only then would you dare to bask in their phantom caresses, allow your mind to conjure up images of their faces, twisted in beautiful bliss.

It was a dangerous game you played, but god, it felt too good to be wrong.

Or maybe that was just you trying to rationalize getting off to the thought of your best friends.

After a few moments of you grappling for the right words, Baekhyun tentatively intervenes with the thick, tension-filled silence that had encased the space around you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. No pressure from us, sweetheart. I understand two at once can be a bit... intimidating.”

Though he started out in a tone that suggested reassurance and understanding, that last phrase, donning an underlying pitch of provocation, gives you pause.

“Are you suggesting you don’t think I could handle the two of you?” There’s a low scoff to your words, a spark of competitiveness that only Byun Baekhyun himself could draw out of you igniting in your stomach.

He smiles at you innocently, walking two fingers up the length of your thigh. “Not at all.” Something about the glint in his eye tells you that that is exactly what he was suggesting.

A light pout touches your lips and you lower your gaze to the man on the floor. “Chanyeol?”

You don’t need to elaborate for him to understand what you’re asking, that familiar boyish grin curling across his face as he props his chin on top of your knee.

“I think you could handle me just fine.”

A shiver ricochets down your spine at the divine way the words drip from his lips, thick and honey like, sensual in their suggestive nature. You hold his burning stare for a few moments longer than you probably should have, feeling yourself slowly being devoured by the dark, ravenous hunger that swirls within it. This was a fire you were not accustomed to seeing ablaze in Chanyeol. You were used to the fire of his competitiveness, the searing flame of his imperishable passion.

But this— this was something new all together.

If you were to touch him, you wonder if you would be able to feel the savage heat of it against your fingertips.

At your sides, your hands itch to find out. But a gentle tug at the string of your- er, Chanyeol’s sweatpants pulls your mind away from that specific thought. You can’t help the shaky gasp that catches in your throat at the sight of Baekhyun’s hands hovering dangerously close to your heat. You can only watch, melting into a puddle of pure need as he twirls the string nonchalantly around his beautiful fingers, slipping his two middle digits into one of the loops and proceeding to curl them in a way that made your mind jump to highly inappropriate possibilities.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

His teeth graze the shell of your ear and the wetness forming between your thighs increases tenfold as the smooth tenor of his voice thrums through your skull.

“I’d love for you to prove me wrong.”

You’re not sure who leaned in first. But the next thing you know, your lips are on his. There’s no time to dwell on the fact that you’re kissing your best friend, your mind rapidly growing hazy from the unexpected intensity. There’s a certain viciousness in his ministrations, a brutality to his lust that he breathes into your lungs and sends blazing through your veins. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

You can’t help the surprised moan that escapes you when he takes your tongue between his lips and sucks, a low content hum reverberating through his chest before he releases you with a lewd ‘pop’.

“Fuck,” he groans languidly, “You taste like chocolate, baby.”

Calloused hands are curling around your jaw before you can fully recuperate, drawing your attention away from Baekhyun just in time to see Chanyeol’s rapidly approaching face. His dark eyes are hooded and wanting, the faintest of pouts residing on his red-bitten mouth as he breathes in an almost whining tone, “I wanna taste.”

You can think of no reason to object.

His lips slip over yours with a gentleness that is almost staggering. Despite his impatience, there’s an underlying hesitance to his motions, an uncertainty that gives you the feeling that… he’s waiting for you to take the lead. And you do such with fervor.

Raising a hand, you slip gentle fingers up the length of his throat and give an experimental squeeze, not hard enough to do anything other than apply a bit of pressure, but just enough to get your message across.

I’m in charge.

The delighted moan he produces in response makes your lips curl devilishly.

But you’re not given the opportunity to relish in the hot rush of power long, a second pair of lips attaching to your throat making you waver. A hot tongue laves over your collarbone, followed by the sharp pressure of teeth and your jaw goes slack.

Did Baekhyun just bite you?

And… why didn’t you hate it?

Chanyeol takes your open mouth as an invitation, smoothly tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Fuck. He tastes like cinnamon and liquor, a combination you had no idea could be so addictive.

Mind dazed and sufficiently distracted, you don’t notice the hand slipping beneath the fabric of your sweats until a shock of pleasure bolts up your spine. You gasp, breaking the kiss as your eyes drop in order to see which of the two boys is the culprit. Baekhyun lets out a low groan, feathering gentle touches over the soaking fabric of your underwear.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby.” He growls dangerously in your ear. “We’ve barely even started. Are you already that excited?”

You shudder involuntarily, only managing a hoarse moan when he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. He chuckles tauntingly, as if you’ve just proved his point, but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed with the way his skilled fingers are stroking your clothed heat.

The heaviness of Chanyeol’s gaze boring into you, devouring every detail of your blissed expression, only serves in making the sensations all the more intense. You attempt to grind yourself down into Baekhyun’s touch, seeking more friction, only to whimper in dismay as he withdraws completely, leaving you cold, unsatisfied, and aching for more.

“Baekhyun—”

“Take them off.” The abruptness of the command has your breath catching in your throat and a telling warmth fluttering through your core. You weren’t accustomed to hearing Baekhyun’s voice like this, so different from his usually light hearted teasing and playful jibes that it throws you for a moment. He cocks a brow amid your stunned silence, licking over the seam of his lip. “What? You need help?”

Snapping yourself out of it, you swing your gaze over to Chanyeol, offering him a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Can’t say I’d mind it.”

“I’m happy to lend a hand.” He hums, shooting you a playful wink that has a wide smile breaking across your face. He makes quick work of your borrowed sweats, easily tugging the loose fabric down the length of your legs and casting it aside carelessly. You watch the way his eyes flit greedily over the expense of your bare thighs, relishing the low, strained groan that flutters from his gaping lips when his attention fixes on the thin, black, lacy material that separates him from your soaking pussy.

“Those, too,” you instruct softly, sinking your teeth into the inside of your cheek. He swallows, and goes to reach for them, only to draw back abruptly when you swat his hands away with a sound of disapproval, “uh-uh. Do it with your teeth.”

Chanyeol’s breath hitches, a severe blush rushing into his cheeks.

Beside you, Baekhyun grins wildly. “That’s my girl.”

You smirk to yourself at the praise, but don’t remove your eyes from Chanyeol’s for a single moment, absolutely loving the pretty shade of red his handsome face has taken on.

Slowly, he dips his head, not daring to break your gaze as he latches his teeth onto the thin black lace on your underwear and begins to drag them down the length of your legs. Goosebumps erupt across your skin, soothed by the press of his hot palms as they trail his descent down your thighs, over the curves of your knees, down your calves, until you are left bare and exposed before them.

Fuck. That was so hot.

“Cute, isn’t he?” Baekhyun hums playfully against your jaw, like the whisper of the devil in your ear. You let out a trembling breath as the younger boy presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, nodding with an airy sigh of ‘ so cute’. Baekhyun nips at the juncture of your throat, and you can only watch with bated breath as he reaches a hand between your thigh, dragging his long middle finger through your folds, teasing at your entrance. “Want your sweet Chanyeollie to eat your pretty cunt, baby? Hm? Want him to make you feel good?”

Your chest rises rapidly, fast, shallow breaths swirling into your lungs. His filthy words curl beneath your nose, thrumming in your ears, intoxicating and disorienting in their deadly temptation. Desperation tugs at every nerve in your body and your hips buck and roll, chasing his caress. Want pools, dark and heavy, in Chanyeol’s hooded eyes as he watches his friend’s teasing ministrations. He licks his lips, full and pink and glistening in the low light of their apartment and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

“Fuck yes.” The words are nothing less than a growl in the back of your throat, a sound you never thought yourself capable of producing.

Baekhyun suddenly reaches forward, weaving his fingers through Chanyeol’s thick hair and tugging him forward. The younger gives no resistance, bracing his hands on your lower thighs as he allows himself to be guided to you. His lips part, tongue peeking out, and your anticipation skyrockets. But then he stops just short, and all you’re left with is the faint caress of his warm breath to soothe the insatiable ache between your hips. You almost whimper.

Chanyeol’s nostrils flare, eyes sharpening in annoyance as he shoots a glare up in Baekhyun’s direction. He only grins and arches a brow. “What? You’re not gonna ask for it first? Where are your manners, Yeol?” He gasps mockingly, eyes twinkling with mirth.

You don’t expect Chanyeol to give in at first, not with how competitive he could be and especially not with Baekhyun acting so damn condescending. But then he does, and you forget how to breathe.

“Please, y/n,” he pants hotly against your skin, “I wanna taste you so bad. I wanna make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good. Please. Fuck, please.” A low, needy groan trembles in the back of his throat, clinging to that last ravenous plea. He snags his lower lip between his teeth and you feel yourself throb. The man looks down right sinful, Baekhyun still clutching onto his inky locks, forcing a slight strain in his neck as he looks up at you with those damn eyes that make your stomach churn and your mind spin.

God, he’s so beautiful.

Overwhelmed with the need to touch him, you nudge Baekhyun’s hand out of the way and replace it with your own, immediately loving the feeling of Chanyeol’s soft hair sliding between your fingers. His eyes flutter under the gentleness of your grip, lips parting as he breathes a delicate sigh, gazing up at you expectantly.

“Come here, Yeolie.”

He’s more than happy to comply.

The first stroke of his tongue sends sparks of electricity shooting through your entire body, a silent gasp shaping your lips. He looks up at you through dark lashes, encouraged and invigorated by your responsiveness to him, licking eagerly at your cunt. Soft moans flutter through his chest, and you shiver at the faint vibrations that are sent pulsing through you.

“Fuck, Chan,” you hiss, rocking your hips forward when he laves over your clit. The friction makes your skin tremble, a dangerous heat rising beneath it. If you knew he was this good with his mouth, you would have jumped his bones a whole lot sooner.

Another moan builds in your chest, but it’s abruptly stifled when Baekhyun tangles a hand into your hair and pulls you into a kiss that doesn’t fail to knock the air out of your lungs. Having both of their mouths on you makes your head spin and you can’t decide which to focus on. You’ve never been with more than one person at the time and it’s slightly overwhelming to suddenly have two men— two gorgeous men at that, both eager and willing to give you more pleasure than you’ve ever experienced.

Warm fingers suddenly slip beneath the thick fabric of your sweatshirt, and you shiver as they glide over your skin, light and teasing in advance towards your chest. A tremor wracks your spine when he pinches a nipple, squeezing his digits around the shape of your breast. Your back arches unconsciously, and you feel him smirk. Distracted, you don’t feel the burn of Chanyeol’s impatient glare until his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

Yelping in shock, you snap your gaze back down to the younger boy, disbelief coloring your features. He has the audacity to smirk at you, cocking a brow in a manner that has a mixture of annoyance and arousal flaring up in your gut. Any glimmer of smug accomplishment is quickly washed from his face when your hand shoots down and roughly grips the hair on the back of his head, yanking him upwards until your nose to nose.

“Watch your teeth, Yeolie.” You murmur darkly.

“Or what?” The corner of your mouth twitches at his gutsy response.

“Or I’ll make sure to edge you until you cry.”

His eyes widen at the threat and he swallows thickly. From your peripheral, you see the crotch of his grey sweatpants rise.

“Oh? But it looks like you’d like that.” A deep crimson flush rushes into his ears and tinges the tips of his ears and he lowers his eyes, unable to hold your mirthful gaze any longer. “I guess I’ll just have to think of a better punishment.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice comes out airy and desperate, the natural rasp making the knot in your stomach tighten, “I promise I’ll be good.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.” You search his blown pupils for any sign of dishonesty, but find only sincerity and intoxicating lust. Satisfied, you release your tight grip on his hair in favor of gently stroking your knuckles over his blushing cheek.

“Then be a good boy and show me what this pretty mouth,” you trace your thumb gently over the soft, pink flesh of his lower lip, “can really do.”

The moment he’s released from your entrancing gaze, his mouth is on you again, eating you out with a fervor you’ve never before experienced. Your hips buck against him, your head tipping back as you let out rasping groans.

“Fuck, Yeol. That’s it, baby. Good boy.” He moans against you as spill praise after praise, lapping hungrily at your soaking pussy.

“That was so fucking sexy.” Baekhyun growls roughly, kissing you hard once before he’s pulling away to speak again. “Watching you boss him around, take control like that…” his voice drawls into a low groan, “really does something to me.”

“Yeah?” You ask shakily, mind whirling as Chanyeol buries his tongue inside of you. Baekhyun grins, humming lightly in confirmation. “Maybe you should let me boss you around, too.”

“Not a chance.” He chuckles. “Maybe next time. But tonight…” your mouth falls open in a silent gasp as he wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing ever so gently, “your mine, sweetheart.”

Next time. He said next time.

There’s going to be a next time.

The amount of joy you receive from those two simple words borders on irrational.

“I— oh fuck!” You can only cry out in bliss as Chanyeol wraps his lips around your clit, sucking roughly. Your hips jerk and grind, moving on their own accord as he draws you closer and closer to your high. God, you’re so close you can taste it. Your trembling hands find purchase in his hair once more, desperate to hold onto something as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

“You gonna cum all over Yeolie’s tongue, baby? You gonna cum for us?” Baekhyun coos encouragingly against your jaw, and you can only whimper and nod frantically, unable to speak when Chanyeol sinks a long finger into your wet cunt, fucking you skillfully with his digit while he focuses his mouth on abusing your throbbing clit until your reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess on their living room couch.

“Yes— oh god, yes.”

When the coil snaps, it snaps hard. You can only manage a strangled whimper when it crashes over you. How long had it been since you last come on something other than your own hand? Weeks? Months? You can’t recall. But honestly how much does it really matter when your best friend’s face is nestled snug between your thighs?

The muscles of your legs seize and tremble beneath the force of your release, only held open by Chanyeol’s strong hands. He is unrelenting even as you come undone around him, tongue rolling over your clit, finger curling against your walls as his heady, hooded eyes devour you. You only manage to get him to detach him from you when you give a weak tug at his hair, the post-orgasm sensitivity proving too much for your body to handle.

“F– fuck.” You shiver, panting as tendrils of residual pleasure lick at your senses, the cold phantom of his tongue making you clench around nothing but empty air is pathetic greed. “Fuck, come here.”

Chanyeol is quick to rise onto his knees, obedient as ever, letting out a soft gasp of surprise as you cup his face and draw him into a heated kiss. He melts into you, large hands finding purchase on your thighs (which are still shaking) and caressing them soothingly.

“Thank you,” you breathe against his mouth, “thank you. Thank you.”

You feel him smiling as you continue to express your gratitude in gentle words spoken between deep, passionate kisses and it’s not long before his smile turns into something wide and toothy and uncontainable and he’s bursting into a fit of giggles as you resort to peppering the rest of his face in playful kisses.

“Easy now, sweetheart. Save the aftercare for when we’re done, yeah?” Baekhyun’s lilting hum draws your attention, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“We’re not done?”

His brows jump, that familiar lopsided smirk offsetting his pretty lips. “Are you kidding me? We’ve got two years worth of orgasms to make up for. We’re nowhere near finished.” A shiver of excitement ricochets down your spine at the promise laced into his words, and you have to bite your lip to keep a wide grin at bay.

Suddenly, Baekhyun rises from the couch and it’s with immense effort that you refrain from staring directly at the prominent bulge straining against the thin fabric of his plaid pajama pants. Swallowing thickly, you look up at him as he extends a hand. “Come on. The bedroom is much more comfortable to get your brains fucked out in. Speaking from experience.” You scoff at the sleazy smirk he shoots you, but slide your hand into his nonetheless.

The moment you’re on your feet, your knees buckle and you nearly topple. Luckily for you, Chanyeol has remarkable reflexes (when it counts) and catches you by the waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Shit, Yeol. You really did a number on her.” Baekhyun remarks teasingly. A feverish blush rises up your neck and you shoot him a glare.

“Shut up.”

He bites the corner of his lip, gives you a heated once over that leaves your skin burning and trembling, before spinning on his heels sauntering in the direction of his bedroom door. He stops in the frame for a brief moment and shoots you a sultry wink from over his shoulder. “Come make me.”

Fuck.

Chanyeol let’s out a yelp of surprise as you lace your fingers through his and tug him hurriedly in the direction of his roommate’s bedroom. The very second that you’re through the door, lips connect with yours, stealing the very air from your lungs and obliterating any last remaining bit of your sanity. Hands seize your half naked body, eagerly exploring the expanse of your feverish skin. They tug at the hindering fabric of your sweatshirt, until all at once it is being pulled over your head and cast off carelessly somewhere in the darkness. You don’t even shiver, the heat of their bodies surrounding you and warding off the cool air.

Chanyeol takes the opportunity to slide a hand beneath your chin and tilt your head back so that it rests on his shoulder, the tip of his tongue flicking over your lips until they part, welcoming him in. Reaching back, you grab hold of his hips, tugging them forward and guiding them in a slow grinding motion against your ass. He moans hotly at the frictions, kiss turning sloppy as pleasure rushes through him.

You’re distinctly aware of the pressure of Baekhyun’s own mouth beginning a slow descent, starting from your jaw, gliding down the length of your throat, pausing to lick and suck at your sensitive nipples, kissing with a staggering tenderness over your belly. Then you hear his knees hit the floor. All at once, his tongue flattens against your clit, and you have to break away from Chanyeol as your body jolts violently in response. There’s still lingering sensitivity from your first orgasm, amplifying the pleasure tenfold.

And god, it’s so good.

“F– fuck, Baek—” your voice breaks off into a trembling whimper, hips bucking as he sinks a finger into your heat. Followed shortly thereafter by a second. Then a third. The stretch has you keening, leaning the full weight of your body against Chanyeol’s sturdy chest. He’s the only thing keeping you upright at the moment. Had you been left to your own devices, you would have already collapsed.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready for us, baby.” Baekhyun hums with a lightness entirely unfitting for the current situation, nipping at the inside of your thigh. He supplies you with a slow, calculated thrust, biting his lip harshly as he watches your glistening arousal coat his digits. “Fucking hell, your soaking.”

You whimper shakily, head tipping back as Chanyeol nips and sucks at the juncture of your throat, his large hands gliding over the shape of your body as if he intends to commit it to memory— caressing every curve, fondling every edge, touching you, worshipping you with a reverence that pours into your very soul. You’ve never been touched like this before. Most men just think they have a right to you the second your clothes are off (some even before that). There’s no respect, no appreciation, nothing but dirty lust.

But this— this is different. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put into words. The way he’s touching you, like you’re a precious work of art, it makes you feel good. It makes you feel… beautiful. Something you rarely, if ever, felt when you were with your ex.

Baekhyun swirls his tongue around your clit and simultaneously curls his fingers, successfully stroking that long neglected bundle of nerves inside of you. The sensations it sets off inside of you are intense and overwhelming, and within seconds you’re coming for a second time. This orgasm comes completely unexpectedly and without any real warning outside of the breakneck explosion of pleasure that has stars scattering across your vision.

“Baek—!” you can only manage a broken yelp of his name as your body convulses above him, wracked and disoriented by the sudden, explosive burst of ecstasy. Now your shivering, trembling and gasping violently, but not from the cold. He watches in wonder as you unravel, clenching so tightly around his fingers that he can only begin to imagine what you’ll feel like coming around his cock. Shit, he can’t wait to be inside of you. He’s throbbing at the mere thought of it.

Chanyeol’s no better off, barely holding himself back from rutting against you like some kind of animal. But he wants to impress you, show you he has some semblance of self control even when it feels like he might burst in his pants at any given moment. He wants to be good for you. So for now, he can only watch with bated breath, painfully hard in his sweats, as your face contorts into an expression of pure bliss. God, you look so beautiful like this he almost can’t stand it. How could anyone let someone like you go?

“Holy f-fuck.” You whimper, attempting to catch your breath as your high begins to fade. Baekhyun has plastered a cocky grin across his face by the time you look down at him, though his eyes still sparkle with something indecipherable.

“That was a good one.” He says, carefully retracting his fingers from your heat as Chanyeol hums in agreement, nuzzling his nose behind your ear comfortingly when you shudder and whine at the emptiness. “We’re gonna break her at this rate.”

“Not a chance,” you interject firmly, albeit somewhat breathlessly, “I’m a lot tougher than you think.” It’s the truth, but the quiver in your voice begs to differ.

“So you can handle another one?” Baekhyun asks, rising to his full height.

You hold his fiery gaze. “I can handle anything you give me.”

Something in his eyes darkens. “Careful, sweetheart. You have… no idea the kind of filthy, depraved things I want to do to you.” His voice drops an octave, and, despite having already come twice (twice as many times as you were used to), your greedy cunt still throbs with need.

Boldly, you extend a hand, caressing over his clothed length, and feel a surge of pride when he inhales sharply, hard gaze faltering.

Leaning forward, you feather your lips over his, teasing. It’s a dangerous game you're playing, you know that. But you’re enjoying it far too much to stop now.

“Show me.”

Those two little words are all it takes to break Byun Baekhyun.

“Bed. Now.”

Perhaps you’re just a little too eager to comply, barely biting back a grin of excitement as you turn tail and scramble to his king sized bed.

The disheveled sheets welcome you into their embrace, still warm in the spot Baekhyun had occupied prior your unannounced visit. They smell of him, you notice, the coconut of his shampoo, the milk & honey of his body wash, the soft vanilla of his perfume. You recognize the latter as the bottle he “borrowed” from you a few months back and had yet to return. Not that you really mind. You secretly like the fact that he smells like you.

Chanyeol is first to round the side of the bed, ridding himself of his clothes along the way. Shirt first, then pants, and you can’t help but giggle as he hops clumsily out of his boxers, nearly bumping into the nightstand before he falls gracelessly onto the mattress beside you, offering up a sheepish grin.

“Sexy, aren’t I?” Sarcasm bleeds through his tone, embarrassment hot on his cheeks, though it’s quickly soothed as you draw him into a gentle kiss.

“Excruciatingly.” You enunciate teasingly, nipping at the tip of his nose.

The bed dips around your ankles, and you peer down to see a very primal looking Baekhyun crawling towards you, like a predator honing in on his prey. The carnal hunger pooling in his hooded eyes hits you straight in the chest, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

Slotting himself between your hips, you could easily make out every inch of his length resting against your stomach, hot and hard and throbbing. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone inside of you this badly. His head lowers to your throat and he sets your skin ablaze with open mouthed kisses. Chanyeol makes sure the opposite side of your neck isn’t neglected long, feeling the erratic pulsing of your carotid artery beneath the slow strokes of his tongue. Your head falls back into the pillows, a sigh fluttering from your lips as you’re bathed in their affections.

Baekhyun slips a hand beneath your knee, hooking it over his hip. Your lungs tremble with excitement when he slides his tip slowly through your wet folds.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you see stars.”

“I already have,” you smirk lazily in response, snagging the corner of your lip between your teeth, “Twice.”

He doesn’t seem discouraged, curving a hand around the shape of your jaw and feathering his mouth over yours as his eyes glint with something sinful and electrifying. “Then I’m gonna show you the goddamn galaxy.”

There’s no time to respond before his hips are rolling forward, filling you to the hilt with one smooth stroke. A breathless gasp trembles from his throat, “fuck.”

“Does she feel good?” The question that escapes Chanyeol is weak and needy, strained and rough, coming from somewhere deep in his chest. He almost sounds like he’s struggling, battling with himself internally as he watches his best friend’s cock disappear inside of our cunt with a lewd squelch. The searing heat of his gaze makes you whine in pathetic desperation, no longer unable to form coherent words to express your desire.

“Fucking Christ, Yeol. She’s so tight a-and wet— ah, fucking perfect.” Baekhyun’s shoulders arch, a tremor rippling down his spine as your walls constrict around him, squeezing so tightly he almost loses himself then and there. But he manages to hold back, bracing a hand on your hip as he pushes himself up right.

“Baek, please.”

There’s no need for elaboration. He knows exactly what you’re asking for. And hell, he’s more than happy to provide.

The first thrust of his hips has your back arching off of the mattress, mouth opening in silent bliss. The pace he sets is punishing, fast and deep and rough. His blunt nails dig harshly into the flesh of your hips, but you relish in it, pain and pleasure coming together to create the perfect cocktail. The lingering sensitivity from your two previous orgasms only serves to heighten the ecstasy that you're experiencing. And with Chanyeol pressed against your side, large, calloused hands and gentle lips making sure each and every inch of you is receiving attention, it doesn’t take long at all before you feel that coil in your stomach tightening.

“I’m not gonna last.” You moan weakly, clinging to Chanyeol like he’s your one and only lifeline.

“Fuck, come on, beautiful. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” Baekhyun growls, snapping his hips roughly into yours. You cry out desperately when Chanyeol trails a hand down your body, circling a careful finger around your clit.

“Oh god, please. Please, Yeol. Harder. Baek— fuck, please.” You’re on the verge of tears, muscles shuddering violently as the white hot pleasure pulses through your veins.

“Who are you begging, sweetheart?” Baekhyun grins down at you devilishly, licking at his teeth as his eyes glow with something dangerous and powerful. Your stomach whirls, and you nearly headbutt Chanyeol when your body lurches, entirely overwhelmed. It’s so much— too much— but, somehow, not enough.

Your legs squeeze around Baekhyun’s hips, heels pressing into the swells of his ass, urging him deeper as you implore him wordlessly for more. You want everything, however selfish that may sound. You want it all. Every last piece of him.

This time around, you’re more than grateful that he can read you so well.

Simultaneously, the two boys fiercen their ministrations: Baekhyun, fucking himself into you so hard that the headboard is slamming into the wall; Chanyeol, applying enough pressure to your sensitive clit that your sanity nearly flies out the window. Within seconds, entangled in the staggering heat of their bodies, you come undone.

Damn. Baekhyun wasn’t kidding about showing you the galaxy.

Never in your life have you experienced an orgasm like this. One that tears through your very being like a raging tsunami. You feel it rippling through every cell, igniting every nerve ending in fiery ecstasy.

Baekhyun is barely able to hold himself together as you unravel beneath him, his entire body trembling and sweating with the effort of fighting back his own high, which is threatening to break over him at any given second. The mere sight of you is almost enough to do him in, but he wants to make sure to ride you through yours before he allows himself even a taste of his own. Harder said than done when you look so good and feel ever better, clenching and pulsing around him and god he’s about to lose his fucking mind.

He’s panting and groaning, rolling his hips deeply into yours, keeping himself teetering dangerously on that edge. But it’s you, your voice whimpering his name, your fluttering, teary eyes barely able to keep themselves open looking up at him, that finally breaks him. He bucks into you sharply, hips spluttering, body shaking as he spills himself. It’s sudden and it’s messy and it’s the most goddamn beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

The moment he’s finished, he collapses on top of you, completely out of breath and red in the face; thoroughly fucked out. But that doesn’t stop him from bathing you in whispered praises.

“You’re so amazing. You did so well. You’re so beautiful.”

His words warm your heart, which is just barely beginning to return to a more natural rhythm. They lick the wounds from the nights previous events, soothe the ache that was long forgotten in the thralls of your best friends’ soothing touch.

Baekhyun pulls out of you carefully, and you have to physically stop yourself from pouting at the emptiness and loss of the weight and warmth of his body as he rolls off of you, flopping onto the mattress at your side with a huff of hazy laughter.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, a dopey smile plastered across his face as he tosses an arm over his eyes, “that was amazing.”

“So fucking amazing.” You emphasize, trying uselessly to catch your breath.

It’s only when you feel something nudging at your opposite hip that you're able to refocus your bleary mind on the unfinished task. You turn, finding the adorable scrunched face of Chanyeol, cheeks red, eyes wanting.

The younger boy chews on his lower lip, swallowing a groan. He’s trying his best not to come off as too desperate, but you see right through him. You see how hard he is, veins thick and throbbing beneath the angry red skin, his flushed tip weeping with precum. Honestly, you’re surprised he hasn’t touched himself yet. It looks like it hurts.

Licking your lips, you can’t help but to wonder what he might taste like, how he’d feel against your tongue, the kinds of sounds he’d make when his body was overwhelmed with pleasure. You bet he’s loud when he comes. Fuck, that deep, raspy voice would sound so good moaning your name.

… perhaps you are feeling just a little greedy.

“Yeol,” he snaps to attention at the wispy call of his name, inhaling sharply when your fingers graze his thigh, “come here.”

He blinks in confusion, not understanding what you want him to do. Recognizing the lost puppy dog look, you chuckle before elaborating in far more blunt terms to avoid further misunderstanding;

“I want you to fuck my mouth.”

If he were to open his eyes any wider, you were certain they’d fall straight out of his head. “I– I can’t– you just—” he stutters clumsily, shaking his head, but you can feel his body practically trembling in excitement at the implication of your words.

“Please. You’ve been so good for me. I wanna make you feel good, too, baby.” You coo, tugging at his knee once more before leaning up to graze your lips over the shell of his flushed ear. “Let me make you feel good, Yeolie.”

He shivers violently, a strangled moan breaking from his swollen mouth, and you smirk to yourself, knowing you’ve got him. He seems nervous as he pushes himself up and crawls to kneel next to your head before hesitating, blinking as he tries to figure the right way to position himself.

He’s cute when he’s concentrating.

“Like this—” you chime in. Chanyeol gasps and flushes a deep red when you guide him forward until his knees are on either side of your head, his hard length swinging proudly above your nose.

Reaching up, you take his large hands in yours, interlacing your fingers. “If I tap on the back of your hand—” you demonstrate, “it means stop, okay? You have to stop immediately when I do that because I won’t be able to speak.”

He nods, expression serious, “I understand. I’ll stop if you tap on my hand.”

“Good,” you pause, a gentle smile upturning the corners of your mouth, “I trust you.”

His breath hitches. “Thank you.”

Instead of responding, you tip your chin up and trace your tongue over the underside of his cock. His hips stutter forward, a surprised moan escaping him at the unexpected contact.

“Stop teasing and feed her your cock, Chanyeol. Can’t you see how bad she wants it?” Baekhyun chuckles mockingly, sliding a lithe hand around your jaw and squeezing, forcing your mouth open even wider. Chanyeol looks down at you through blown pupils, chest heaving, lust practically radiating from his every pore. But it’s only when you offer a nod of reassurance and a look that you hope gives of even the faintest of glimpses into your immense desire for this, for him, does he finally move.

With a tenderness only Park Chanyeol could possess in a position such as this, he guides himself between your awaiting lips. You moan unabashedly as the bittersweet taste of him hits your tongue, tipping your chin up to make more of him in. A shuddering moan pulses from his chest, pitched and broken on red bitten lips. The sound is somehow even more beautiful than you imagined.

Languidly, you swirl your tongue around his weeping tip, eliciting a strained whisper of your name as the grip he has on your hands tightens substantially. He offers a slow, shallow thrust, his head dropping forward as his length slides deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. The pressure of your tongue against the underside of his cock and the heavy reverberations of your soft, encouraging moans invigorate him to set a careful rhythm, hips stroking gently forward.

Your knuckles dig into the messy sheets as he pivots his weight forward, and you quickly relax your jaw when you feel him inching closer to your throat with every thrust. Chanyeol is even more considerate than you thought he’d be, pulling out far enough between steady strokes that you can swallow lungfuls of oxygen before sliding smoothly back in, deeper and deeper each time. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes, mouth straining in order to accommodate his impressive girth. But hell, it’s worth it. Totally worth it.

His breathing became harsh and labored, filling his lungs with sharp, ragged inhales that shudder through the deep cavity of his chest. “F– fuck, y/n,” he groans hoarsely, head dipping as his eyes squeeze shut, “your mouth is— s- so good.”

Your core tightens around nothing at the rasping whimper, the faint caress of his warm breath rousing goosebumps across the damp skin of your belly. The subconscious clenching of your thighs is wholly unintentional, but it does not go unnoticed.

Chanyeol lets out a choked gasp as a hand slides into his hair, his upper body suddenly forced downwards.

“Come on, Yeolie,” Baekhyun coos tauntingly in his ear, “you were the one going on and on about balance. So why don’t you provide some… ‘give and take’, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he barely whispers, but you still feel a rush of hot breath over your core and moan throatily around his cock. He tenses and shudders in response to the delicious rush of vibrations, tightening his grip on your hands as Baekhyun guides him lower.

Honestly, you aren’t sure at first if you have another one in you. Three orgasms in one night was unimaginable before tonight. Four seemed simply unrealistic. Your poor pussy is still pulsing and trembling from the last. But the moment Chanyeol flicks his tongue over your clit, the most delicate of kitten licks, you know that you do.

This time though, it’s like molten metal boiling in the pit of your stomach, a wholly unfamiliar sensation. Each press of his lips and roll of his tongue fans the fire blazing through your veins. You try your best to keep up, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue, but it’s difficult when it feels like your brain is short circuiting. The pleasure is fiercer, more intense, rolling over you in thick, devastating waves. You’re reduced to little more a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, barely able to keep yourself from choking on his cock.

Chanyeol’s hips buck frantically as your throat constricts, his own ministrations getting rougher and sloppier the closer he gets. You feel his teeth against your clit, then two long fingers slipping through your slicks folds and fucking themselves into your pussy. Baekhyun can only groan hotly at how easily you take his digits, squeezing his opposite hand around the base of his hard dick.

“I’m gonna come,” Chanyeol whimpers hurriedly, “oh fuck I’m gonna come.”

Suddenly, his hips pulse and your bottom lip make contact with the flat of his pelvis. It takes every ounce of control you have over your body to push back your gag reflex, but the way he trembles and breaks above you is undoubtedly worth the strain. A jumbled mess of words tumble from his lips as he comes, though only your name and a select few curses are intelligible between the deep, violent moans that burst from his chest.

Tears fall from the corners of your eyes as he fucks himself into your mouth, motions stuttered and sloppy. But you swallow around him eagerly as he fills your throat with his release, which only serves in prolonging his orgasm until he’s shivering and whining and hell— each sound, each tremble has the coil in your stomach squeezing tighter and tighter.

All the while, Baekhyun’s fingers are loyally exploring your silken walls until he once again discovers that small bundle of nerves that make your head spin. Combined with Chanyeol moaning and growling against your clit— you're a dead woman.

This final orgasm is the equivalent of having a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Every hair on your body jumps to stand at attention, oxygen suddenly igniting into flames in your lungs. You scream around Chanyeol’s cock, back bowing off the mattress, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. It’s so intense you honestly feel like you might pass out. But it’s so good, too good —fuck, it’s the best you’ve ever had!— and you want to relish in every mind numbing moment.

All at once, Chanyeol is gone from between your lips and you gasp, a rush of cool air like a glass of ice water in the torrid desert flooding into your lungs and soothing the angry blaze.

“Holy shit.”

You’re too gone in the high to make out who the strained whisper had come from, or to notice the sudden substantial amount of wetness painting the insides of your thighs and seeping into the sheets below. Your brain feels thoroughly scrambled, effectively stupefied by the prodigious pleasure and you can do nothing but bask in it.

“Have you ever done that before?” It takes you a few extra seconds to realize that the question is directed at you.

“Hmm?” You hum blearily, not bothering to try and lift your head.

“Squirting,” Baekhyun clarifies, voice thick with wonder, “have you ever done that before?”

“Squirting? No, I’ve never—” your head snaps up, eyes bulging, “I squirted?!”

If the excessive arousal currently coating (and dripping from) Chanyeol’s astonished face and the unusually large wet spot staining the sheets is anything to go by, the answer is a clear yes.

Panic strikes your chest. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I- I am so—”

“Don’t apologize! Don’t you dare apologize.” Baekhyun abruptly cuts you off, splaying a hand over your belly. “That has to be the most— amazing thing I have ever seen. No girl has ever squirted on me before. I’m honestly honored.”

“Baekhyun, please.” You whine, pulling a pillow over your feverish face and snapping your legs shut.

“I’m serious!” He yelps indignantly, tugging the pillow away from you and tossing it to the side despite your noisy complaints. Two strong hands find either of your thighs and pry them apart in spite of your stubborn resistance, revealing the slippery mess you made on the sheets below.

Heat rushes up your neck as Chanyeol falls into position between them like it’s the most natural thing in the entire world and begins licking at your wet skin. The muscles of your thighs shake and tighten uncontrollably under the intimate ministrations, the post orgasm sensitivity extending beyond your core and into each of your limbs.

“Chan,” you whimper remorsefully, clenching your fingers in the duvet, “I can’t. I can’t.”

He smiles against your skin, licks turning into gentle kisses that make your heart flutter and melt in ways it definitely should not in response to your best friend’s big, sweet eyes. Then again— this entire situation is remarkably unconventional in regards to a typical friendship. Not that you’re complaining because really, how could you? Four orgasms? In one night? Unheard of. A part of you wonders if they were actually just trying to kill you.

While Chanyeol bathes you in his limitless affection, Baekhyun vanishes from your side and into the attached bathroom, returning only moments later with a towel saturated with hot water. You hum gratefully as he carefully scrubs away the sheen of sweat and sticky arousal clinging to your skin. And he’s considerate, too? Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.

“You guys are going to ruin all other men for me, fucking hell.” You huff out a hoarse chuckle. Chanyeol suddenly flops down beside you, nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder.

“Who needs other men when you have us?” He rebukes, large hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

You can honestly find no reason to disagree.

“Guys,” Baekhyun chimes once finished scrubbing you down, “let’s move to Chanyeol’s room. I need to throw these sheets in the washer before they get crusty. Made that mistake once. Never again.”

“I would totally do that but I’m pretty sure my legs are numb.”

“Ain’t no thang, pretty lady. I’ve got you.” Chanyeol chirps gallantly, slipping his arms beneath your legs and back. Before you can make any kind of protest, you’re being swooped off the bed and pressed into a warm chest. Shrieks of laughter peel from your lips as the gentle giant spins, and you throw your arms around his neck just for extra precaution.

“Yeolie,” Baekhyun whines mockingly, stomping his foot childishly as he plasters an exaggerated pout across his face, “you never pick me up and twirl me around like a pretty princess.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you tease, extending a leg and pressing your toes against his chest, “only room for one pretty princess in this apartment.”

“Oh, okay. I see how it is.” He scoffs as he stumbles back and falls dramatically back onto the mattress, hand splayed over his heart like you had somehow managed to wound him.

“Speaking of washing,” Chanyeol chirps, glancing down at you, “How does a warm bath sound?”

“Like heaven.” You groan. “Baek, feel free to join us after you're done doing your laundry.” You shoot him a mirthful grin as Chanyeol pivots and carries you out of the room that bears the musky, filthy scent of sex.

“Wait you’re just gonna— but I—“ Baekhyun wavers, looking between your retreating figures and his stupid dirty sheets before letting out a groan of frustration and scurrying after you. “Fuck it. I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“Is your bathtub big enough to fit three people?” You question, gaze landing on Baekhyun’s cute ass as he jogs ahead.

Chanyeol shrugs, humming thoughtfully. “We can squeeze.”

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“We can definitely squeeze.”

1K notes · View notes

jenoptimist · 3 years

Text

you may have only gotten half a pudding cup but you got yourself a real life Disney Prince, so who’s the real winner?

✮ Pairing: kunhang x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: fluff

✮ Word count: 5.8k

♡ Yakult says: hendery!!!!in!!glasses!!!!!!! pls i love him sm 🥲

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There was a phone number in you calculus textbook that you were one hundred percent sure you never wrote down. Not that you could, anyway, considering that it was a library book. Well, no, techincally you could write it in but you wouldn’t dare. The longer you stared at the handful of digits, the more you freaked out. You absolutely could not afford to be fined! The whole reason why you borrowed it from your college library was so that you didn’t have to spend money in the first place!

After gathering your materials and stuffing them into your bag, you hurriedly left your local library. You fished your phone out of your pocket, scrolled through your – admittedly pathetically short – list of contacts and called the person who you suspected wad the source of your small dilemma.

“‘Sup?” Yangyang greeted.

“Be honest with me,” you said seriously, immediately cutting to the chase, “were you the one who wrote the number?”

There was a beat of silence, and then, “what number?”

“You know,” you urged as you neared the apartment complex that the two of you lived in. “The one in my calculus textbook? I borrowed it from the college library and I don’t want to get into shit if they find it.”

“That wasn’t me!”

“Oh really?” You asked in disbelief as you hopped into the elevator and punched the number to your floor. After what you dubbed as, ‘The Spaghetti Incident of 2018’ you could never be too sure with him. When he replied that he didn’t, you asked him another two times. Throughout your friendship with Yangyang, you found that the trick to getting him to admit the truth was to keep badgering him until he either: got fed up or thought that whatever he did was no longer funny.

“I swear on my Hot Wheels!”

You hummed in consideration. His Hot Wheels collection was his utmost pride and joy - second only to his large sneaker collection - especially since he owned a handful of exclusive and rare ones. They were all displayed neatly on several shelves on one of the walls in his bedroom. They were even color coordinated and everything! Sometimes, when you went to offer him some food, you found him staring at them with a wide smile, his eyes full of admiration.

“Oh,” you frowned as you grabbed your keys from your jacket pocket but before you could slot your key into the lock, the door opened. Yangyang, the dork, greeted you over the phone even though he stood in front of you, a boyish grin displayed on his face. You rolled your eyes, not able to smother your smile as you hung up and stepped inside, locking the door behind you. It was noticeably warmer than usual and the apartment smelled if something toasty, which only meant one thing. “Pizza?” You guessed confidently.

Just as he gave you an affirmative, the oven began beeping to signal that it was finished. As Yangyang brought everything to the coffee table in front of your couch, you slipped off your shoes, dropped your bag and shrugged your coat off. While he cut the pizzas into almost even slices, you grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge.

Although it was still piping hot, you couldn’t help but take big bites. Your slice of doughy goodness was diminished within seconds. Solving calculus problems did thay to you. It was your least favorite module of the semester and brought on a headache whenever you left your lectures.

“This is so good.” You remarked as you took another slice. You loved a good margherita from Dominos but there was nothing like a frozen pizza from your local supermarket—the additives was probably what made it delicious, the cheap price just happened to be a bonus. Yangyang definitely felt the same, seeing as how the two of you devoured both pizzas within minuts, silence taking over the room.

You took a sip of your soda after popping open the top. “I”–you didn’t like the mischief that danced in uour room-mate’s eyes–“dare you to call the number.”

In your haste to swallow it, the soda passed through your throat uncomfortably, as if it were a large stone. “Nuh-uh.” You said with a shake of your head. There was absolutely no way you were going to call that number! You were just going to forget that it was even there. Or maybe you would return the book and hope that the next unfortunate student who will borrow it would be the one to pay whatever fine they had for ‘defacing public property’, as the college liked to call it. You didn’t know how many people had a calculus module in their course but you sure hoped that it was a large number.

“Awh come on, y/n!” At the firm shake of your head, he folded his arms and pouted slightly. A moment of silence passed and then, “I’ll give you a twenty.”

You took another sip of your soda as you mulled it over. “How about a ten and your last mango pudding cup for a text?”

Yangyang sucked a breath through his teeth. “That’s a tough bargain.” You shrugged, he hogged the other five pudding cups for himself so if he really wanted you to call this mystery person, he would have to give up the remaining one. “Okay, what if I give you fifteen and we split the pudding cup.”

“Better than nothing.” You conceeded after a second of thinking it over.

Yangyang’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he held out his hand for you to take. Once you shook it, the two of you quickly cleaned up. Not even ten minutes later, the last pudding cup and two spoons were on the table along with the textbook, opened on the page with the number on it. Yangyang leaned closer to your shoulder, his head practically resting on top of yours as he watched you type in the number and text.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

hey! i found ur number on a textbook i borrowed from the library so i thought i’d say hi i guess?

“Now we wait.” Yangyang said as he returned to his seat and opened the pudding cup. He handed you your spoon and the two of you dug in, eventually fighting for the last bit.

The reply came when you and Yangyang were watching Into The Spiderverse. Neither of you paused the movie when you heard the notification sound your phone let out—you had seen it countless times; twice when it was in cinemas and every so often whenever it was on Netflix.

You were slightly nervous about the reply, which was silly considering that you didn’t even know the person, but you opened up the text anyway so that it would be over and done with.

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Hi. My friend just told me he wrote it in there before I transferred. I’d be grateful if you could rub it out or use correction tape to get rid of it. Also, please delete my number.

You pursed your mouth at the response. It wasn’t as if you were hoping to be best friends or anything but the prospect of befriending someone had definitely excited you. You had college friends but that was liferally what they were: friends who you only saw in college. None of them hung out with you outside of college and whenever you did offer, they would either say yes to humour you – which, unfortunately, was blatantly obvious – or came up with an excuse. Which sucked, for obvious reasons but you would survive. The only people you had actually managed to successfully befriend were Yangyang (because he was looking for a room-mate at the time) and his best friend, Dejun.

“Uh-oh,” came Yangyang’s voice. “What did they say?” He was quick to read the text after you turned your phone to show him the screen. “Whoever it is, they’re very, um,” he paused for a moment while he thought of a fitting description, scratching his head, “grammatically correct?” At your nod of agreement, he added, “at least he said ‘please’.”

You shrugged as you typed a quick reply. “I guess.”

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

sure thing

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Thank you.

The two of you refocused your attention to the movie, the texts completely forgotten once you received his reply. Later that night, you did as you were requested and used correction tape to hide the number—which was written in neat, tiny green ink. You were aware that covering the numbers in correction tape would also be considered as ‘defacing public property’ too, but it was for the sake of the stranger’s privacy. It seemed as though you were the fiest to contact the number but, still, if you were in their position, you wouldn’t like your number to be in public property either.

As for the text, you took a screenshot of it for Yangyang, who asked for it so that he could show Dejun while he typed away in your groupchat, and then erased the number from your phone.

Two weeks later, you found yourself sitting at the study desk in your room, staring helplessly at the blank answer boxes of the calculus assignment you had been told to complete and submit before the end of next week. You wanted to cry in frustration as you redirected your gaze down to your notebook where you had been trying to solve the equations. The entire page was a mess and your desk was coverd with eraser bits. It had gotten to the point where some parts of the page had gone grainy, like it always did when you repeatedly erased something on the same area. There wasn’t a single problem that you managed solve—no matter how hard you tried. It was pathetic, really.

With a sigh, you decided to take the break that you had put off, not wanting to take one until you solved a problem (ha!) as a reward. Maybe you would rewatch the entire Twilight saga again (Dejun had managed to convince you to read the series a couple of months back and the movies had become something like a guilty pleasure of yours,) because it was clear that you were going absolutely nowhere.

Just as you had started Eclipse, you heard the door open but didn’t bother moving from your spot. In fact, you hadn’t moved since you started your movie marathon a few hours ago because you were all too comfortable buried inside your fluffy blanket on the couch.

“Perfect timing!” Dejun’s rich voice bellowed, “it just started.” There was the sound of socked feet running towards the couch and then he lifted your legs, sat down and laid them down on top of his lap.

“Hey Dejun.” You greeted, raising your hand for a high five.

When he slapped his palm against yours, he asked, “how’re you doing?”

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, Yangyang spoke up. “Judging from the Twilight marathon that’s going on,” there was a hissing sound of a can opening and the audible sound of him taking a quick sip of whatever canned beverage he was holding, “not very good.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed but your your friend only shrugged, smiling amusedly. “He’s right though,” you grumbled, “I’m really struggling with calculus at the moment.” Struggling was an understatement. You really wanted to pass it because you definitely didn’t want to repeat the exam. That would be a nightmare.

Dejun looked at you sympathetically before he made an affronted noise in his throat, one that you felt deeply in your soul as he turned to face Yangyang. “The Twilight saga is a cinematic masterpiece and you absolutely cannot change my mind.”

“Okay,” the blond replied, clearly up for the challenge. “But it’s not better than Shrek now, is it?”

“Shrek?” Dejun repeated incredulously. “Shrek is an iconic classic but the Twilight saga? Definitely on a different wavelength. The scene in New Moon where Bella just sits on her chair looking out the window soullessly? Perfection! It was a fantastic book to movie adaptation. And don’t even get me started on—”

“As thrilling as your debate is becoming,” you said, interrupting the point that the brunet was about to make, “I’d really love to continue the movie so I can hear young BooBoo Stewart say, ‘newest, bestest, brightest’ to help me feel a crumb of joy.” You were unable to find it in yourself to feel guilty about cutting in. They could take their debate somewhere else while you continued to wallow in your feelings of failure.

The pair read your mood easily and shrugged at one another in concession. Dejun patted your leg lightly in comfort as Yangyang jumped on the couch to sit on your other side, giving you a quick side-hug before focusing on the movie. It was silent up until Rosalie finished telling Bella her the story about her past.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dejun spoke up.

“Uh-oh.” Yangyang muttered playfully to you, his voice purposefully loud. You huffed out a laugh before lightly digging your elbow into his side, knowing that he’s had an awful share of ideas in the past.

Dejun stuck his tongue out at him but continued with what he began saying instead of retaliating. “Why don’t you text that person? The one whose number was in the textbook you borrowed? They must have done the module or something.”

You considered what he said seriously, even pausing the movie so that you could discuss it with him. “What if they didn’t though? What if it was their friend who borrowed the textbook? They did say that it was their friend who wrote it there.”

“Then you could just ask their friend for help.” Yangyang piped up. It was a statement that you couldn’t counter but that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to.

“I don’t have their number anymore,” you said to them. “They asked me to delete it, remember?”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Dejun told you as he reached into one of the pockets of his jeans and fished out his phone. Yangyang leaned over slightly and the two of you watched as Dejun quickly swiped his finger up his phone. “Here you go!” He said brightly, turning his phone so that you were facing the screen. And there it was: the screenshot that Yangyang asked you to take so that he could send it to Dejun. There was no way you could weasel your way out of this situation now.

“Okay,” you relented, “I’ll text them after we finish this saga.”

“If you text them after this movie, I’ll pay for take-out.” Yangyang bribed, eager for this idea to take place.

You weighed out the pros and cons briefly before agreeing with him. It would be a win-win situation: you would get take-out and a possible tutor. It seemed as if time moved quicker because the movie felt as though it finished within a few minutes. As Yangyang dialed the number for a local take-out place, you slowly typed out a text, him and Dejun watching you with hawk eyes.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

hi! it’s me again. i know you don’t know me but could you please help me with calc? or your friend, whoever borrowed the textbook. please. i feel like my brain is melting

You flung your phone on the table, laid back down on the sofa and released a long sigh. It would be a lie if you said that you weren’t hoping that they would say yes. You were trying your best but it was as if your brain refused to coorperate with you when it came to calculus. If only Yangyang or Dejun were enrolled in the same course as you. It was often that you thoughr that wistfully, especially during times such as this.

It was when you were about to shove a huge lump of lo mein into your mouth that your phone lit up, indicating that you received a notification. You stuffed the noodles into your mouth and grabbed your phone off of the table, dropping your wooden chopsticks into the rest of your dish.

“What did they say?” Dejun asked as he bit into an egg roll.

“Depends,” you read out. “Would I get paid for it?” You practically exclaimed the last part. It was fair that they were wondering about payment after all, who would want to tutor for free? The thought of the amount in your bank account had you cringing, you couldn’t afford to pay for a tutor at the minute. Although, you couldn’t afford to fail your module, either. So it was a lose-lose sotuation. You sighed before shoving another chopstick full of noodles into your mouth as you thought of a reply, eyes never leaving your screen. “How can I say, ‘no I cant’t but I really need your help’ without sounding desperate?”

“You can’t.” Yangyang replied matter-of-factly, chewing on his mapo tofu.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

no but u’d have my gratitude forever???????

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Oh.

[typing. . .]

I’ll have to think about it.

[typing. . .]

Just kidding! I’ll help you out, free of charge. Would you like to do it over the phone or meet IRL?

You cheered loudly when their last text delivered. “I’m guessing they said yes?” Dejun said, smirking smugly. You nodded, grinning widely as your fingers flew on the keyboard in your phone.

to: 13X XXXX XXXX

omg ur a lifesaver!!!!! maybe over the phone?? it’ll probably be more convenient foe the both of us :)

from: 13X XXXX XXXX

Gotcha. We can discuss our schedule sometime tomorrow.

Your tutor, Wong Kunhang, was surprisingly really helpful. He was much more friendly than you thought he would be, immediately introducing himself after greeting you over the phone. For the entire three hours that the two of you were on the phone, he was nothing but the epitome of patience. Not only that, but he explained everything in a way that you could easily understand and even cracked a lame joke or two to break the tension whenever he noticed that you were becoming incredibly frustrated. By the end of the session, you felt microscopically better about calculus. While you couldn’t say that you were especially ecstatic for the upcoming lectures and assignments, it was safe to say that, while you had a long way to go, things were sort of looking up.

from: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

Same time next week?

to: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

definitely!!

[typing. . .]

also if ur comfortable with it can we pls video chat instead?? i think it would be much quicker than us sending each other pictures back and forth

from: Wong Kunhang (tutor)

That’s a good idea! I can’t believe we didn’t think of it earlier ahahaha.

As you worked through the practice problems that Kunhang prepared for you, you couldn’t help but sneakily stare at your phone to catch a glimpse of him repeatedly. It sure came as a surprise when it came time for the video call and you found yourself face to face with a Disney Prince who came to life. There was no other way to sum up how handsome he was. He somewhat reminded you of Prince Eric—what with his black hair, wide, bright eyes and kind smile. It wasn’t as if you thought or expected that he would he unnattractive. In fact, you hadn’t really wondered about what he would look like at all since you had a long list of priorities. None of which included thinking about whether or not you would find your tutor attractive.

But still. Kunhang was definitely one of those people who were blessed with beauty and brains. One of the Universe’s favorites, if you will.

“You good? Are you stuck on something?” You started at Kunhang’s voice, eyes flying from your phone to your page and back to meet his expectant look. You murmured a negative and resolutely kept your gaze on your work for the next half an hour to avoid a repeat of what had just jappened.

After nearly two months, the tutoring session had become a bi-weekly thing. Sort of. Somewhere in between you whining about every question but toughing it out and him encouraging you while also lightly teasing you, you and Kunhang became friends. One of the two sessions somehow always ended up with the both of you chatting, completely abandoning the unsolved equations in favor of getting to know one another, or, mostly recently, switching back and forth between the show that the two of you suggested to one another.

This week you would be tuning into his suggestion, Love Death + Robots. Kunhang would talk every now and again during some parts, especially when it came to his favorites, but you found that you didn’t really mind. Not when he sounded so (adorably) excited about it. The series itself was pretty good so far albeit short – six episodes in total, and the two of you were already on the fourth one – which meant that the you that you recommended (The Office because you were astounded that he hadn’t watched at least one episode) would soon become the primary source of entertainment since the two of you were only on season three.

As you stood in the snacks aisle, internally debating one which type of popcorn you should purchase (salted or buttered? the microwaveable kind or loose kernels? also, which brand? there were so many options, maybe too many,) your phone vibrated in your pocket. Swapping your basket from your non-dominant hand to your dominant one, you pulled out your phone and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Kunhang greeted back brightly, “uh, so listen, I know we have our thing later but one of my sisters is moving out of her apartment and she asked me to help. Is it okay if we cancel?” The poor guy sounded super apologetic.

“Yeah, totally! Help her out!”–briefly, you thought about offering your assistance before deciding against it because that would be awkward and weird. Weirdly awkward. Awkwardly weird. Whatever–“I mean, it’s not like what we do is a set thing, anyway. I’ll probably ask the guys to hang out instead.” You eyed your basket full of snacks and made a mental note to grab the particular brand of potato chips that Dejun liked, already predicting that he would agree.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on for hours on end. You would have assumed that the line dropped or went dead for some reason but you could definitely hear some shuffling sounds on the other side and, in a totally non-creepy way, Kunhang’s breathing.

“Right,” he finally replied, drawling the word out. There was another silence that felt extremely awkward. You wondered what facial expression he was making at the moment. It could have possibly clued you into what he as thinking. “Well that’s all I wanted to say I guess.”

“Oh,” you mumbled and then after a beat, you followed up with, “do you prefer salted or buttered popcorn? I’m trying to choose right now but I can’t decide.”

“Definitely salted. Buttered always leaves my mouth feeling weird.” You hummed while trapping you phone in between your ear and shoulder so that you could grab the generic box brand of microwaveable salted popcorn. The conversation carred on without anymore awkward pauses. You picked up a couple of items that he recommended every now and again, trusting his judgement. “Hey, you know what we should do?” Kunhang said as you queued up for the self-service checkout line, eyeing the items on display. When you hummed in response, he followed with, “we should hang out next week. In real life. We could do it on Sunday so you’ll still have one day of tutoring.”

It felt somewhat embarrassing that you agreed so quickly to his suggestion. You definitely should have played it cool but you had been meaning to ask him the same thing for a while now, so you were glad that he suggested it. “We can meet up at a café or something! Maybe have lunch? I’m paying, though!” It was only fair since he was helping you out for free.

“Lunch sounds good.”

“Great!”

“Great!” Kunhang mimicked, just as enthusiastically. “I’ve got to go but I’ll text you later?”

Both of you said your goodbyes then hung up. After tucking your phone back into your pocket, you made your way to the till that just freed up and began scanning your items. Once everything was paid for and bagged, you retrieved your phone to shoot a quick text in the group chat with Yangyang and Dejun, asking them if they felt like watching a movie franchise with you. They agreed, but only after Yangyang asked if ‘you’re weekly date with Kunhang got cancelled’ which earned him a picture of you flipping him off.

“Today’s the big date, huh?” Yangyang asked teasingly as you checked your appearance in the mirror once more, sprawled out on the couch as he made his way through his third mango pudding cup. From beside him, Dejun and Yukhei – the newest addition to your friend group since he and Dejun had to do an assignment together – gave your form an assessing once over.

Dejun, smiling mischievously, said, “obviously, can’t you tell by how nicely they’re dressed.”

You mock glared at the pair while Yukhei lightly slapped Dejun for his comment. Then he, bless his heart, beamed at you and said, “you look great!”

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling sweeting at him before addressing the other two, you firmly said, “and it’s not a date. We’re just hanging out, like the three, now four”–you corrected, glancing over at Yukhei–“of us do on a regular basis.”

“Oh, are they just a friend from your course then or something?” Yukhei asked curiously while Dejun and Yangyang hummed in unison, disbelief clear in their tones.

“No, it’s this guy, he helps me out with calculus. We’ve never met in person but he’s really nice.”

“I should hope so,” muttered Yangyang, peeling the seal off another mango pudding cup. “You’ve been crushing on him for a while now, so it would be a bummer if he wasn’t.” He said through a mouthful.

“Am not!”

“Are too!” Dejun countered for him.

“Am not,” Yangyang mimicked. “So what about all the times you’ve mentioned him then, huh?” And then he placed his pudding cup on the table, clasped his hands together by his cheeks and, in a voice that was meant to sound like yours, said, “‘oh, Kunhang told me this stuff is really good, we should try it out!’, ‘Kunhang is so smart!’, ‘can you believe Kunhang volunteers at the animal shelter and the nursery home as much as he can? Isn’t that so sweet?’, ‘Kunhang has such a Disney Prince smile!’. You gush about him all the time, it’s kinda sickening.”

You threw your arm out at him as you looked towards Dejun, hoping for some back up but you should have known better. They were your best friends after all. Dejun simply shrugged as he snatched a pudding cup from the coffee table and said, “to be fair, you do gush about him a lot. And! Whenever you text him, which most of the time, you get this goofy smile one your face.”

“Huh,” Yukhei mumbled, his tone full of thought. “This guy sounds a lot like one of my buddies.” The three of you looked at him with wide, curious eyes. When he noticed, he added, “it’s probably just a coincidence?” Although his tone suggested otherwise.

“Probably,” you replied as you grabbed your keys and shoved them in your pocket. “I’ve gotta get going or else I’ll be late.” You said as you made a beeline towards the door and slipped on the shoes you thought best suited your outfit. “Don’t wait up!”

“Why?” Yangyang replied just as you were about to close the door, playfulness evident in his voice, “I thought it was just lunch.” The other two cackled at that but you flipped him off and left the apartment, trusting that one of them would like the door behind you.

It was fortunate that you managed to catch the bus on time. After paying the appropriats fare, you made your way towards the back, earphones plugged in so that you could listen to some music along the way. Once seated, you took out your phone sent a text to Kunhang to let him know that you were on your way. His response was immediate, informing you that he was already nearby because his sister had asked him to run an errand for her, and asked you to text him when you were close.

Horizon was a cute little place that served as both a café and restaurant. It was sandwiched between a thrift shop and music store but, surprisingly, didn’t look the least bit out of place among the buildings. As you walked closed to it, you saw Kunhang standing by the entrance, bopping his head as he used his phone.

“Kunhang!” You called when you were close enough, after taking off your earphones and stuffing them into your pocket. Judging from the way he jolted slightly, you startled him. “Hey,” you greeted warmly when he removed his earphones. “You could have waited inside.”

Kunhang shrugged, a brilliant smile etched onto his face, “I thought it’d be easier if we walked in together.”

When you entered, you thought that you would have to find somewhere else to eat due to the amount of people present, but the staff who was waiting by the door only asked if you were eating in and then lead you to a table in the far corner of the room, right beside the window.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, y’know, in person.” Kunhang said as he browsed through the menu.

“You too,” you replied, peeking up from your own menu to find him wearing a hint of a smile. “I can’t believe it took us this long to be honest.”

Kunhang chuckled at that and nodded in agreement.

The meal seemed to fly by even though you left Horizon a little later than expected. You were still laughing as you headed out, thanking the waiter that served you one more time as you passed by him, at a story that Kunhang recounted that took place during his childhood. Although his texting style suggested otherwise, Kunhang was hilarious—which you knew already since he often made you laugh whenever you were on the phone with him, it was just a different feeling compared to the experience in person. You were almost sad at the thought of your time being over with him, until he jammed his hands into his pockets and, rocking back and forth on his herl, asked if you wanted to go get some ice cream since he knew a really good place nearby. And who were you to say no to that offer?

After fighting, again, over who would pay, the two of you roamed around for a bit, slipping into this store and that to window shop. Only when the stores began to close did you realize how late it had gotten. It wasn’t dark out, not yet, and you were surprised that several hours had passed since you first met up with Kunhang.

“Ready to call it quits?” You asked as the two of you began to make your way to where you would wait for your bus.

Kunhang shook his head and pointed somewhere behind you. “Let’s go to the playground over there. Race you.” And with that, he took off, leaving you to stare at him dumbfoundedly until your brain registered what he said and you ran after him.

“Cheater!” You huffed when you reached him, hands on your knees as you caught your breath.

Kunhang did nothing but through his head back and laugh at you. Attractively. It was something to ignore—his attractiveness, that was. But it was awfully difficult and all you could do was hope that he didn’t notice how you were looking at him. You couldn’t help it! Even though his outfit was relatively basic – just some gray-brown sweatshirt, black joggers and a pair of white sneakers – he looked effortlessly good. And it wasn’t just his appearance that made him attractive, either, oh no, because that just wasn’t enough. He also had to have an amazing personality.

“Let’s go over there,” he said after he sobered up, nodding towards the spring riders. “No racing this time.” He added with a wide grin. You weren’t able to suppress your own grin quick enough, rolling your eyes as you shoved his shoulder.

“I’m glad we met up today,” you admitted sincerely as you rocked back and forth on the spring ride. “You’re even better in person.”

Kunhang stopped rocking on his spring ride and looked at you. “I’m glad we met up today, too.” He told you with a smile that turned into one that was more sweet and shy as he said, “we should do it again some time, y’know, when we aren’t flooded with assignments and stuff.”

“Totally!”

“How about, maybe,”–Kunhang’s tongue darted out a sliver of his to wet his lips–“as a date?”

You stared at him in shock which he met head-on, that sweet, shy smile of his still present. You could feel a smile threaten to rise and you allowed it, messing with the hem of your top as you nodded in agreement. “That would be nice.”

“Really?” He asked, his tone both excited and unbelieving. When you assured him that you would be really looking forward to it, he said, “that’s– that’s great! I can’t wait, either.” Then, he jumped of his spring ride, held out his hand and pressed a feather light kiss to your knuckles like the Disney Prince he was when you placed your hand in his.

“We should probably head home.” You said, hand still in his. Kunhang never let go, so you figured he was okay with you interlocking your fingers and swinging your hands back and forth.

Like the gentleman he was, he waited for your bus with you and waited until you got on it, blowing kisses at you through the window. Your smile was so big your cheeks began to hurt as you pretended to catch the kisses.

(Later, after you had told Yangyang about how the day went swimmingly, you received a text from Kunhang and couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh. Your room-mate shot you a curious look so you let him read the text.

from: kunhang 💘

You know Yukhei?!?!?!!!!)

#this took a much different turn than i thought it would andnsk #but i hope it was worth the read #also question: do my fics ever sound like a self-insert???? like i mean not reader insert but like y/n is me if that makes sense????????#cause i sure hope it doesnt omg its not meant to be i promise #i’ve been thinking about it recently cause of this tiktok i watched 😫#but yeah anyways i keep listening to first love + good time on repeat #when mark says ‘ur my my’ and ‘tell me tell me’ and sichengs parts in good time 🥲🥲#sicheng’s parts in good time has been my sole reason for existance lately #i felt it so deeply that AND his insta post from 2 weeks ago affected me so much that i started a draft for him #but i also have drafts for other members that im like hmmmmmmm #although i havent done a sicheng fic since i wrote that pocket!sized sicheng fic and also the smau i started #(and kind of abandoned but i’ll get back to it in the summer maybe)#also 7dream cb 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲#i’ll keep rambling if i don’t start typing the Official tags so here they are:#wayv #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #wayv fluff #wayv hendery #wayv kunhang #wong kunhang #hendery fluff #hendery imagines #hendery scenarios #nct #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct hendery

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niksixx · 4 years

Text

Patience

~Part 3. I hope you’re loving it.~

Pairing: Axl Rose/Vince Neil x Female Reader

Warning: Vince hits Reader

A/N: Please reblog for me :)

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

Tag list: @littlemisscare-all @curly-hudson @julessworldd @madamsixx @headlight-queen @metalheartofgold @ginny-baker-sixx @mickmarstookmyheart @gunsngunners @bex-tothe-rescue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride home to your house is eerily quiet. In the passenger seat, Vince leans his head out the window, slowly breathing in the cool air while a trash bag hangs between his legs.

Eyes focused on the road, your grip on the steering wheel tightens as Vince empties the contents of his stomach into the bag. Knowing that Vince isn’t phased by his antics fuels a fire in your bones.

As you park the car, Vince stumbles out to the curb. You throw open your door, locking the car, before walking past him. He mutters under his breath, most likely a string of curses, steading himself on the metal railing before throwing his body against the door.

On your couch is Mick Mars, book in his lap, glass of water on the side table. He turns his head, blinking twice at Vince who ignores him and heads for the shower, before gazing at you.

You lock the door, throw your purse, and slide down the door, face buried in your hands. You should have waited until you went to your room to let the tears fall, not wanting to drag poor Mick into your relationship drama. The boys had witnessed plenty of the fights between you and Vince, and most of the time they were at a loss for words on how to help. Nothing would be different this time.

Mick lifts you to your feet, arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you in. You go slack against him as he runs a hand up your back, dusting a sweet kiss on your head. “I’ll deal with him tonight. You rest, okay?”

You nod as Mick stalks off toward the bathroom, waiting just outside for Vince to finish up. In the fridge is a brand new bottle of Chardonnay, which you pop open, pouring a generous amount into a glass. From the kitchen you spot Nikki and Tommy in the pool, beer in Nikki’s hand, cigarette in Tommy’s mouth. It wasn’t unusual to find the boys in your house while you weren’t home.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you kick off your shoes and slide open the doors to the pool deck. When the boys see you, they stop laughing. Setting your glass off to the side, you roll up your work pants, dipping your legs in the heated pool water.

As you guzzle the sweet wine, Nikki and Tommy exchange looks before swimming over to you. Tommy rests his arms on your legs, Nikki squeezing your arm gently.

“Half the time I’m too embarrassed about our fucked up relationship to say anything,” you mumble, licking the leftover liquid from your lips. “But I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“AA?” Tommy suggests, blowing a smoke ring.

You shake your head. “He won’t go on his own. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

Even if he was forced, Vince wouldn’t thrive in rehab. The people in rehab want to get better for their friends, their families, for themselves. Vince? He wants no part of it.

“He thinks he’s invincible, and he’s not,” you whisper solemnly. “Who drinks a whole bottle of Jack and then gets behind the wheel?”

“If it helps, I tried to take it away from him at the studio,” Nikki offers, pointing to a bloody cut on his eyebrow. “I mean it didn’t work and then he punched me, but I tried. Really did.”

“Dude,” Tommy warns, shaking his head. “Not really helping, my man.”

“And then to make matters worse, he sees me with Axl and then--.”

“Wait, Axl?” Nikki asks, eyes widening. “Axl Rose?”

“What were you doing with him?” Tommy questions, frowning.

You’d never told them about your childhood best friend. For one, they wouldn't approve. And God only knows what would happen if they met Axl in the street after finding out you were once close to him.

“Axl and I go way back,” you confess, swirling the wine as the memories resurface. “He was my first best friend. We were friends all through high school too, that is until I left to move here. Since then I hadn’t spoken to him. I actually bumped into him today while I was picking up lunch. First time I’ve seen him in seven years. We went back to the store to eat lunch together and I lost track of time. And then in comes Vince.”

The picture is ingrained in your brain. Vince stumbling in. The anger and rage on his face. The surprising calmness on Axl’s. And even though you couldn’t see your own face, there had to have been a mixture of panic and horror.

“You know this gives Vince even more of a reason to hate him, right?” Nikki asks. “He’s not going to let you near the guy.”

“I don’t care,” you state, standing your ground. “I finally have him back in my life. I won’t let Vince ruin my friendship with Axl.”

“Your what?”

Slightly sober, Vince struts onto the deck in only a pair of silky white shorts. Mick follows sheepishly behind, avoiding your gaze.

“What are you doing awake?” Standing from the pool, you give Vince a hard look. Nikki and Tommy heave themselves up onto the deck, coming to your defense if necessary. “Go to bed, Vince.”

“Since when are you friends with that self righteous prick?” He questions angrily, lips curled in a snarl. “He’s nothing but trouble, Y/N. Stay the fuck away from him.”

“You don’t even know him!” It was just like old times. You coming to Axl’s defense. Only this time, he wasn’t around to witness it.

“People talk, sweetheart. This is Hollywood. You think I don’t know about him? About his fucked up childhood? How his step-dad used to beat the shit out of him? About how he was bullied his entire life? The guy’s got pent up rage brewing, Y/N. He’s a fucking hothead.”

“He’s nothing like you try to convince me he is. I’ve been friends with him since I was ten years old, Vince. I was the fucking person protecting him. We were best friends until I moved to California.”

“Oh so he’s a pussy too,” Vince concludes, arms crossed over his bare chest. “And you’ve been here for seven years, baby girl, and not once did he try to contact you. He’s a dick. Open your eyes.” Vince spits, disgusted that you’re defending him.

“He didn’t know where to find me, you asshole!” Tommy’s hand lightly squeezes your shoulder, but the touch isn’t comforting. Shoving his hand off your body, you step up to your boyfriend, who leans against the side of the deck. “The sad part is, he tried. When Axl moved to LA, he tried to find me. Asked anyone and everyone if they knew who I was or where he could find me. And if it wasn’t for you and your stupid fucking label keeping me hidden from the public eye all these years, I would’ve had my friend back.”

Vince groans dramatically, hanging his head. “Goddamn it, the same fucking conversation. You know why you have to stay under the radar.”

“It doesn’t mean I like it or agree with it, Vince!”

Mick holds out a hand. “Hey, guys, maybe we should take this inside--.”

“God, don’t I mean anything to you?” Your voice cracks. “Don’t I deserve better than this?”

Vince hangs his head, hand on his hip. “I really don’t know what you want me to do.”

Grabbing his chin, you make him look at you. His jaw clenches under your touch. “I want you to fight for me. I want you to say ‘fuck the label’ and treat me how I deserve to be treated as your girlfriend. Take me out in public, show me off, kiss me when the cameras are on us. Goddamn it Vince, I want you to love me. Why can’t you do that?”

Mick stares.

Nikki whistles.

Tommy elbows Nikki.

This isn’t how you imagined your night. The last thing, the very last thing on this Earth you wanted to do right now, was fight. Your bed had been calling your name ever since you set foot in the house. It’s eight-thirty at night and you’re exhausted. You should have just gone to sleep.

Vince had no answer. Shaking your head, an empty laugh falls from your lips. “You know what? I’m done. I’m done doing this with you. I deserve more than an alcoholic boyfriend who can’t stand up to his label, and who treats me like I’m his bitch. I deserve better. Even Axl fucking knows I deserve better, and he hasn’t been in my life for seven years,” you say, stepping back. “Maybe I should date him instead.”

Vince does the unthinkable.

When his hand collides against the side of your face, the wine glass shatters against the wooden deck as you stumble. Nikki catches you as Tommy leaps over your body, towering over Vince to shield you as Mick grabs Vince’s shoulders, watching the scene unfold in horror.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Nikki shouts, pulling you to your feet, pushing you behind him. “Are you kidding me, dude?”

“You think you’re tough hitting a woman? Huh?” Tommy taunts, shoving Vince’s chest. “Huh?! Get your shit together, man!”

Reality hits Vince as Tommy continues to shove him. Choppy breaths leave his lips, eyes wide, jaw dropping. He swallows nervously, glancing at his hand, before his eyes lock back on you. “B-babe?”

There’s no hesitation as you push past the four men, throwing open the deck doors, snatching your purse, and sprinting for the front door. They’re all shouting for you, but Vince’s voice is crystal clear as it stands out.

“Baby, wait! Please!”

He chases you out the door, but you’re already running down the street, legs on fire.

“I’m sorry! Babe! Please, come back!”

You run. You run as fast and as far as your legs can carry you, weaving in and out of people crowding the sidewalk. A few call out to you, asking if you need help, but you keep running until you end up back at your store.

And as soon as you reach the store, it begins to rain.

And then you break.

Tears mixing with the rain, you collapse on the pavement, letting the water soak your body. Your hair is damp, clothing drenched, and you don’t even have any shoes on. You’re a mess, physically and emotionally.

You remember that your car is still parked on the street from having to drive Vince’s back home, and you run to it, settling in your seat as the rain pours down from the heavens. You’re alone, and the sound of your cries is louder than the thunder that accompanies the downpour.

You can’t go home. Not yet. You don’t want to see him, you can’t. Your cheek still burns from the sting of the hit, and if you see your boyfriend again tonight, one of you may end up dead.

The notepad. It’s in your purse.

You fish it out along with your phone, dialing the numbers with your thumb. Holding it to your ear, you choke back a sob as the man on the other end of the line picks up on the second ring.

“Are you home? Can I come over, please? I need you.”

~~~

In the corner by the TV, Izzy Stradlin sits on a chair strumming his guitar as Steven Adler lounges on the floor, drumming furiously on the TV stand with two wooden salad spoons. Slash is lying on the couch, hat covering his face, while Duff sits at the tiny kitchen table, enjoying a platter of buffalo wings all to himself.

Their heads turn as Axl walks through the door, more jubilant than he was before he left to grab lunch almost four hours ago. He shrugs off his shoes, fishing around in his back pocket for a pack of cigarettes.

“Where in the hell have you been?” Duff asks as he bites into a wing. Untying the bandana around his head, Axl lets his hair fall, shaking it, and runs a hand through it. “You left at two. It’s almost six-thirty.”

Axl’s smile broadens as he heads for the couch, pushing Slash’s legs to the side. The curly haired guitarist grumbles and flips him off. “I ran into an old friend today.”

“Oh yeah?” Izzy asks, setting his guitar on his lap, full attention on Axl. He’d always been that kind of friend. The one who stopped everything and listened if someone had something to say. “Who?”

“Y/N.”

Steven and Izzy exchange a look before Steven pipes up, “Wait. The Y/N? From high school? Like, I came to LA specifically to find her and couldn’t after all these years and somehow magically ran into her today, Y/N?”

Axl nods. “I ran into her at the restaurant and I swear my heart stopped.”

“Spoken like a lovesick fool,” Slash groans, flipping Axl off once again when he knocks the hat off his face. “First time you’ve seen her in what? Seven years? What’s up with her?”

Axl grabs a cigarette from the pack, lighting it. “She owns a bakery on the Strip. Cute little shop, not much business though. It’s a shame. She’s damn good at what she does. I tried one of the little chocolate cakes on display? Best damn cake I ever had.”

“I wonder what her cake tastes like,” Steven mutters to himself, snickering at his own joke.

There was a sparkle in your eyes whenever you talked about your bakery. It was your passion. From the decor inside the shop to the variety of desserts, it was clear that you dedicated so much to your little business. If only more people knew about it.

“She look the same?” Izzy asks.

Axl’s mouth twitches. “She’s even more beautiful now than I remember.”

“Oh fucking barf,” Slash teases, sitting up from the couch, brushing hair from his eyes.

“You smashing that?” Steven grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Izzy rolls his eyes.

“Do you think of anything else?” Duff questions, shaking his head as he chucks a chicken wing bone at Steven’s head.

“Okay first off, no,” Axl points a finger.

“But you want to smash her?” Steven challenges, pointing a spoon right back at the singer.

Axl glares. “Just say fuck, Steven. Fuck. And second, Y/N isn’t just any girl to me. She never has been.”

“Then quit whining and go after her,” Izzy says, pursing his lips. “You’ve been in love with this girl since you were sixteen you told us.”

“Yeah and there’s one big fucking problem, Iz. She’s dating Vince Neil.”

Slash turns. “The bitchy blonde fuck from Mötley Crüe? Are you kidding me?”

“Their label is keeping their relationship on the downlow. Apparently it’ll fuck with Vince’s image if word of their love life gets out.” Axl sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“How does that make sense?” Duff asks, standing from the table. “Wouldn’t it harm his image if they let him run around like a madman and shag a bunch of women?”

“You’d think,” Axl agrees, holding up his hands. “But apparently, that’s the kind of image they want their frontman to have. All I know is I need to get Y/N out of that relationship, and fast.”

Axl had promised himself he’d never interfere with any of your relationships. Now, he was considering going back on his word. You weren’t happy. He could easily tell by the way your body tensed around Vince, from the sheer terror in your eyes when he was mad or cursed or raised his voice.

“Look man, I know you’re in love with the girl, but is that really your place?” Steven asks, serious for the first time that night. “What if she really loves the dude? Who are you to try and ruin something good for her?”

Axl shakes his head, leaning forward on his knees. “He drank a whole bottle of Jack Daniels and drove drunk to Y/N’s store. It might not be my place, but I’ll be damned if I sit around knowing she’s in harm’s way and I don’t do anything about it.”

~~~

“Ah, shit, sorry about that fellas,” Duff says, slapping his guitar. “Take it from the top?”

Axl nods, yawning, before checking the time on the clock. Eight-thirty and it feels like two in the morning. To wake himself up, he goes to the fridge for ice water, only to be interrupted by the screeching of his phone.

He picks it up. “Hello?”

“Are you home? Can I come over, please? I need you.”

He knows your voice without even needing a greeting. It’s soft over the phone, and Axl’s gut tells him something isn’t right. “Yeah, of course. Is everything okay? You remember the address?”

“I do. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

You hang up quickly, startling him, before he hangs up and turns to his bandmates. They look at him curiously. “Y/N’s coming over.”

~~~

Your wet feet slide against the metal stairs as you ascend toward the address Axl had given you earlier that day. Looking from door to door, you shuffle down the chilled hallway, warming your arms, until you find yourself out front of apartment 6C. Christ, this place was more like a hotel with all the damn rooms it had.

You knock timidly, but loud enough to be heard.

The door opens. Axl stands in front of you, gray cutoff covering his top, white sweatpants on his legs. He looks warm, comfortable, and you want to hold him. His face falls when he sees your soaking wet figure and bare feet.

“Hey sugar,” he says softly, and it tugs at your heart. “Let’s get you inside.”

And when you step foot inside the apartment, you're greeted by four other men, all staring at you as if they’d never seen a woman before.

The first blonde shakes his head. “Damn, bro. You weren’t kidding. She’s hot.”

You laugh slightly, looking at Axl, moreso to see his reaction. His cheeks are noticeably pinker. “Steven, fuck off. That’s not even what I said and you know it.” He turns back to you shyly. “These are my bandmates. From left to right, meet Steven, Izzy, Duff, and Slash. Guys, meet Y/N.”

The one named Slash steps forward, giving you a nod. “Wanna see my snake?”

Oh, he’s bold. “Um...is that like...code? For your penis or something?”

And they all burst out laughing. Even beside you, Axl lets out a chuckle.

“No, he literally has a pet snake,” Izzy says, hiding a smile.

Oh. Whoops. “Then, sure. I guess so.”

A smile spreads across Slash’s face. “I like her.”

Axl wraps an arm around your shoulder, leading you down a hallway. His room is surprisingly neat, with only a few hats and bandanas scattered around. He rummages through a drawer and hands you a tee shirt and sweatpants. Without thinking, you begin to pull off your damp clothes.

“Uh,” Axl licks his lips. “I uh-.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen me change before,” you tease, turning your back to him. “And don’t act like you’re not enjoying it, either.”

“Hey, you won’t get any complaints from me,” Axl grins, eyes roaming over your backside.

Fully dressed, you spread out your arms, showing off the new attire. Both the shirt and sweatpants are extremely comfortable. And they smell like him, too. “How do I look?”

Axl swallows the lump in his throat. If he wanted to name all the ways you looked absolutely beautiful, you’d both be there all night. “You look like you belong in my clothes.”

You give a half smile before following Axl out into the main room. The rest of his bandmates are in different parts of the apartment, and they all give you smiles as you walk past them.

“Y/N, are you hungry? There’s some left over pizza in the fridge.” Izzy offers, pointing toward the kitchen.

“Damn it, I was planning on eating that for breakfast tomorrow,” Steven pouts, chucking what appears to be a wooden spoon at Izzy’s feet.

A chuckle falls from your lips as you settle into the couch, instantly relaxing as a blanket is draped over your shoulders. You look behind yourself just as Axl comes around to the front of the sofa, settling back in the spot beside you.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” He asks, grabbing another blanket for himself.

You shake your head, positioning yourself so that your head rests gently in his lap. It was something you did as kids. Whenever you were upset but didn’t want to talk about it, you’d settle into his lap. He’d let you lie there for as long as you needed, always making sure to scratch your head or run a hand through your hair. It was his way of letting you know he was there.

And just like when you were young, Axl’s hand finds your hair, lightly kneading your scalp. Your eyes flutter shut briefly, sinking into his gentle touch, and when you open your eyes, Steven and Izzy are standing to leave the room, sending not so subtle winks in Axl’s direction.

When it’s just the two of you, you’re finally at peace.

Until Axl asks the question. “Does Vince know you’re here?”

Chewing on your lip, you pull the blanket closer to your neck. You could only hope that Axl would leave it alone after you answered. “He’s the reason I came here.”

Why Vince truly hated Axl was a mystery. He’d never explicitly told you. Thinking about it, you couldn’t even come up with a reason.

“Did something happen?” He presses. Not that he’s nosy, but because he cares.

Sitting up, you tug the blanket around your body, legs curling in a pretzel. Axl watches you carefully, and the three words he never expected to hear crash into him like a wave on the shore. “He hit me.”

Blood drains from Axl’s face. He blinks twice, letting the words settle in his head, before sitting up straighter, body locking. “He did what?”

“It’s no big deal,” you brush it off. You had to. If not, you’d be a puddle of tears on his couch. “It was an accident. I said something and it triggered him. Plus, he was still a bit drunk from today. I instigated everything. It was my fault.”

Axl feels rage ignite in his body, fists clenching as he listens to you wrongfully blame yourself for Vince’s actions. His fingers twitch, itching to meet with Vince’s face, give him a taste of his own medicine. Because no one, no one, laid a hand on you and got away with it.

He grabs your jaw and you flinch. He sees it now. The outline of a hand on your cheek.

He softens his grip but makes sure to keep your face close to his own. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, but he knows you won’t let them fall. “I’ll make him pay.”

“Axl--.”

“No, listen to me,” he says, forehead against yours. He’s breathing deep, heavy, angrily. “I swear to you, I will make him fucking regret the moment he put his hands on you.”

The roles are reversed. Once the victim, now the protector. In this moment, this very instance where your bodies are only an inch away, noses brushing against each other, lips centimeters apart, you see Axl in a whole new light.

And there’s now a part of you that wants to find out what would happen if you pushed forward gently and kissed him. Would he pull away? Kiss you back?

But you don’t find out. Instead, you’re the one that pulls back, fingers twisting around his wrist to keep his palm flat against your burning cheek. There’s something between you. You felt it the second you bumped into him at the restaurant. A certain force, a pull, bringing you together.

“I can handle him, Axl.” What you’ll say isn’t clear. It could end in tears, in a fight. Or, on a brighter side, it could end in forgiveness. “When I see him tomorrow, I’ll just—.”

“You don’t need to go back there,” Axl says, almost pleading. If he has to get on his knees and beg he’ll do it. He’ll do anything to make you stay. Keep you safe. “Stay here with me. You’re more than welcome here. You know that.”

His heart, his caring soul, his love for you shines through. He’d turned into such a wonderful, handsome, courageous man, but even you could still see some glimpses of the boy he used to be. He wants to protect you, but he’s nervous. Nervous for you. “I want you to hold me. Can you do that?”

He nods, quickly kissing your forehead before he pulls you down, nuzzling the side of your head as you sink into the couch. It’s a tight fit, but he manages to wrap both arms around you. You’re safe this way. And after a few more moments of talking, and Axl promising that he’d come to your home tomorrow to help you bake the cupcakes for Lei’s son’s party, you fall asleep blissfully in his arms.

145 notes · View notes

aizawawhore · 4 years

Text

Brat

Pairing: Shigaraki x reader

Words: 1909

Genre: smut

Warnings: blow jobs, teasing, vaginal sex, brat taming, HEAVY degradation, light choking maybe? possible slight if ya squint non-con??? It’s just rough honestly like just fucking sin honestly, oh some mention of Overhaul and jealousy. I know Overhaul is a total ass so maybe some people don’t like having him in fics idk??? A/N: So this is based off a request that asked if Tomura would be good at brat taming. Simple answer? Yeah...but this guy is a brat as well so...it’s interesting! Sorry if this isn’t the best I just wanted to write some sweet handy boy <3

You weren't being a brat, it was Shigaraki who was being the brat. You weren't just going to play into his game of 'you're being a bad girl and now I'm going to get my dick wet at your expense' today. Shiggy though had other plans. You guessed it was a hard day of being a villain because he came into who room in a rage. Or Dabi was just being--well--Dabi. You were sitting on his bed reading something until your boyfriend came into the room almost breaking down the door while he was at it. He was panting, pissed off and ready to get rid of some pent up anger. You weren't having it today though, you were tired of taking care of his temper tantrums--at least for tonight. It must have bothered him that you just glanced at him and paid him no mind before turning back to your book to keep reading. "Hey!" Shigaraki growled and you just kept reading. Footsteps came closer to the bed and you didn't even budge. "Are you fucking ignoring me?"

You kept reading, but at this point you were more just staring at the page and not actually reading the words. "Hey you little whore, answer me!" He decayed the book out of your hands and you sighed. "What Tomura? Did something not go right? And now you're going to take it out on me?" You called him out, and he looked fucking pissed beyond belief. You would be lying if you said it didn't put fear into you, but you knew Tomura--he'd never do anything you were uncomfortable with. "You're a god damn spoiled brat, you know that Y/N? I take care of you, keep a roof over your head and give you all you could ever want, and you act like this toward me?" He yanks your hair, making you pull towards him and forcing you to look him in the eyes. "I know you're trying to act tough, but we all know you're just a little dumb baby. A fucktoy, my fucktoy. So drop the fucking act, it's not cute." You just make a 'hmph' noise before looking away from him with your hair still in his grip. "I'm going to count to three, and if you keep acting like a brat after that--I'm going to ruin that body of yours." You keep your eyes away from his, not saying a single word. "One." Tomura counts, and you keep looking away. "Two." He counts again, this time you waver, but keep your eyes away from him. "Three." On three, he throws you back onto the bed and pins you down with his body. "Are you going to behave now?" He asked, cocking his head. You looked at him, and stick your tongue out. "Fine." The man above you speaks, and the second you blink his hand minus his pinkie is wrapped around you neck and pressing down. "I'm going to have a good time making you behave little whore." You whine a little, not being able to speak and he chuckles in amusement. "No no no, you had your chance to show me you could behave. Now I'm going to do exactly what I said I would do. I'm going to tease you and fuck you until you're crying and begging me to stop. And then we'll see if you wanna act like such a stupid brat next time." You nodded, damn you were weak for him. He was so hot like this, angry and dominate. Shiggy kept his hand steady on your neck and squeezed more almost fully cutting off your air supply as he unzipped his pants with the other hand. His cock springing free, he gripped his dick and pumped it a couple times as pre-cum leaked from the tip. He was so hard, you couldn't help but think you being a little hard to tame was turning him on. You started to feel light-headed from the lack of air, and he noticed. "Here is the deal little whore--you get to breathe for the brief moments it takes for your mouth to get on my cock. After that I'm going to fuck that throat until you're gagging and choking on it. Show me how sorry you are." With that he let go of your neck, and you were immediately moving to take his cock in your mouth. You wanted to tease him for a bit and maybe on a different night you could. But the moment you made contact with his cock Shigaraki was choking you with his member, tears coming from your eyes right away at the feeling of being gagged. He groaned and kept thrusting in and out of your warm wet mouth. He wasn't being gentle, he never was but tonight he was being rougher than what you were used to, but you weren't complaining. He was right after all, he took care of you and made sure you were safe which is something you never thought he was capable of doing. You're little temper tantrum was uncalled for, but at least it gave you a hard fuck which you always enjoyed. You were drooling out of the corners of your mouth as you took his cock, you used your tongue to lick around his shaft and head of his cock and just becoming drunk off his dick. The blue haired man above you was stern still but god was he ever enjoying the sight of you being a cock drunk little slut. He loved having the power over you even if you were in a bratty mood, he wouldn't trade you for anything--even if he had a messed up way of showing it. He pulled his cock out of your mouth after facefucking you for a good five minutes, making your throat raw. Spit and cum were mixed in your mouth and you swallowed it all down. You were a mess, and basically had no mind of your own now. Shigaraki grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket and opened the camera on it. "Such a pretty little cock whore." He mumbled before snapping a couple of pictures of you with tears running down your face and cum and drool coating your lips and chin. After he was done with getting pictures of you, he chucked his phone on the nightstand and moved over to his desk chair. He sat down, and you were worrying that he was going to leave you dripping and ready for more. "Off the bed, come here." You didn't need to be told twice, you stood up and moved over to your boyfriend and so eager for what he had in mind next. "Strip, do it slowly." You gave a slight nod and reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up revealing you weren't wearing a bra. Shiggy tutted as you dropped your shirt to the floor. "Such a fucking whore, I bet no matter what man walked through that door was going to get their cock sucked by such a dirty baby like you." "N-No Tomura...only you." It was true, no matter how many times Dabi flirted with you--you wouldn't go to his room. You'd always return to Shigaraki. You would never do this for anyone else, you were his. "Really? What about Overhaul?" You had only met Overhaul once, when Shigaraki went to meet him after the incident. He wanted you there for 'eye-candy' purposes and you obeyed. You sat on your leaders lap the whole conversion. You had crossed the line when you thought you were really just playing the role of the leaders whore. You would cross one leg over the other and when you did you'd keep your legs spread just a little longer then needed. You should've known this isn't what he meant when he wanted eye-candy with him. He just wanted you there, just to sit pretty and wait like a good bitch while they worked things out. Instead you gave Shigaraki the wrong message. Let's just say he fucked you so hard that night you couldn't walk for days. He claimed you that night, and now he was bringing it up again. "No T-Tomura...I don't want him I need you. Only you." You slipped your shorts and panties down just leaving a pair of thigh highs on that Shiggy loved. His eyes were glued to yours, you stood there waiting for his next order. "Prove it again, ride my cock." He growled. You wasted no time getting on his lap, straddling him and sinking down onto his cock. You let out a moan, a soft one which earned you a slap to your ass. "Be loud, I want everyone to know you're mine." As you got into a good pace, bouncing up and down on his cock while Shigaraki sat back and watched you do all the work you let out loud moans and cries of his name. He gripped your ass with one careful hand and the other pinched and squeezed your nipple. You were on pleasure overload and you weren't sure if you could keep it up much longer. "T-Tomura...can I please cum? I wanna cum!" A dark, evil chuckle escaped your boyfriend. "You think after that little show you put on earlier I'm just going to let you cum? Dumb little baby. You're going to keep begging until I think you're sorry enough to cum. Or able I'll just leave you here horny and leaking if I don't think you're trying hard enough." You keep trying to hold off your orgasm and start begging, as loud as you can. "Please Tomura! I'm sorry I was such a brat I won't be like that again! I need to cum on your big cock. Please Tomura!" You were just hoping it was good enough, you kept moaning and begging him as you kept your speed. Even if he didn't give you the go-ahead. You weren't sure if you could hold on much longer. "Fine, cum." Oh fuck yes. You didn't just cum though, you fucking squirted all over his cock the moment he spoke. You couldn't believe it, you had never done that before. It must have made Tomura very turned on and happy, because he busted the moment he realized what you had done. His cum painted your inside walls and he let out an animalistic growl and was digging his blunt nails so deep into your ass that you knew they were going to leave marks. "That's it! Good girl!" He rasped as you crashed down and went limp, your orgasm was just too powerful and the over stimulation was also too much to handle. Your mind went fuzzy and you were sure you were about to faint. But you were pulled out of your daze by the man under you gently petting your hair and kissing your neck. "You must be tired." He mumbled, it was moments like these that made making him angry worth it. After a couple of minutes of staying still. You got the power back into your legs to lift you off of him. You were really tired, the sudden need to sleep taking over you. You fell straight onto the bed once you made your way over to it and your boyfriend soon followed, laying beside you as you peacefully drifted off. I guess he was able to tame the brat out of you after all... - END -

#shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki smut #smut #fanfic #fanfics #my writing #tomura smut #bnha smut #xreader #writing #once again sorry if this sucks i just HHHH #also i did sorta beta test it but it might not be perfect #forgive me

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writerfangirlbooks · 4 years

Text

The Aftermath

Sam vs Dean x Y/N Prompt: Sam decides to leave for good after a horrible fight with Dean and you're left to pick up the pieces.

A/N: I was going to make this a two-parter that turned into six parts, but couldn't decide where to break it up, so I just kept it all together, making it the longest chapter thus far on this endless book by a LOT. I have no idea what I was thinking to be writing from 8:30 at night to 2:30 in the morning, but that's how long this 8,000-word chapter took. Let me know if you want a second part because I have more in mind. Enjoy!

Word Count: 8k

Credit to gif owner!

Dean shut himself in the favored man cave when you ran after Sam. You knew if you didn't get back to him soon that as much alcohol as possible would be ingested. If you were able to fix this, Dean wouldn't feel the need to drink so much. He had been doing so well this past year, too. He chose coffee or tea - you feared this might have been the iceberg.

Events like this happened only twice before, but many more before you entered their lives. Dean was almost always the one that stayed, the one that got left. You tried showing him that you had no intention of ever leaving, wanting to forever be the calm in the storm. After being with the brothers for so many years, it was no surprise that they were both interested in you romantically. As many years passed, you still weren't sure where your heart remained. You knew these men inside and out and loved them dearly, but couldn't choose. You claimed it would ruin the fun dynamic of three.

Sam's door was wide open when you finally caught up to him. He moved fast, most of his belongings already packed away into a duffel bag. You leaned against the door frame, heart rapdily upset in your chest. His hair was a mess, even more so than normal, cheeks were flushed from yelling, and shoulders heaved with anticipation. He didn't glance up as he began zipping the bag.

"Sam," you began. Your voice caught. What could you say? The brothers were unusually cruel to each other. You didn't even want to remember the horrible words they spat at one another. And this was before any alcohol.

Sam shook his head. He always was the silent mopey type. He moved to the bathroom to grab a few items and you slowly entered the room. As often as you hung out in the boys' rooms, this didn't feel right. You knew down the hall a disaster was brewing. You took a breath. One tall problem at a time.

"Sam, please stop. I know you both are very upset right now and rightfully so, but don't leave. Please," you pleaded.

He walked back into his bedroom, giving you a long look. You never minded how the brothers would stare at you, but this look was too close to heartbreak. It was like Sam was memorizing your appearance. He was ready for this to be the end of hunting for him, and to him that meant cutting off all connections.

"I have to. I'm not respected here. At least not by him." That's all Sam said as he tried to walk past you. You backed up into the frame again, your short stature not able to hold him back. He was so close in front of you.

"Give it a few days apart. This place is big, you don't have to see each other. Sam, you can't go."

"I can and I am. You can't stop me, Y/N. Either move or come with me," Sam said, warm eyes gazing down at you. A startled breath escaped you. You had never dreamed of leaving this place or the brothers. They were home to you, your best friends.

"I can't do that either, Sam. We belong here." You stood firm.

"Then this is goodbye, Y/N." His voice was soft, but the words echoed loudly, like raindrops that would not stop panging the roof for hours. It repeated endlessly.

Before you knew it, Sam had moved past you. You had to speed walk to keep up with his pace as you followed him. You yanked on his wrists. You considered tripping him to prolong his leave. This was it, you thought, there was nothing left you could do. You chased Sam up the stairwell to the Bunker's exit, mindlessly piling off excuses as to why he needed to stay. He ignored each one.

The two of you reached the top. Sam paused and turned to you. A faraway look filled his eyes as he planted a kiss at the top of your head. With that, Sam left. You shouted after him before realizing it was only a whisper. You stood there a few moments, stunned. Bile filled your throat with the understanding that you had to face Dean after this.

Dean. He was undoubtedly wrecking his body with the strongest beer around and whatever object around him was likely smashed. You raced down the stairs and headed to where you last left Dean. You turned the knob, grateful he didn't lock you out. He sat facing away from the door, unmoving. As your heart felt it would beat out of your chest around Sam, now it felt like it would not beat at all.

"Dean?" You asked softly.

Oh, thank God, you thought. He moved his swivel chair to face you, empty bottle in hand. He stood up and chucked it into the corner where a trash can sat unoffended. Dean stared mindlessly at your feet. He blinked a few times before seeming to really see you. His green eyes were intensely darkened even though the lighting wasn't low and they trailed up your body before meeting your eyes. When they did, the first sign of humanity brightened in him. A small puff of air exhaled from his mouth.

"Y/N." His voice was clipped.

It took a few seconds of doubt to figure out if he was mad at you or not. You tried assuring yourself it was about his fight with Sam, not you going after him.

"If you're here to talk, you might as well leave, too," Dean grumbled.

You took a breath. This was going to be a rough night.

"I'm sure Sam didn't mean it..."

Dean shook his head once, slowly. He stood up and thankfully didn't waver or stumble. Dean took a few calm steps forward. His breathing was controlled. Maybe he had only managed to drink the one bottle in the time you had been absent. His tolerance was extremely high either way.

"He meant what he said." Dean ran his tongue over his top row of teeth and his eyes scanned the room, clearly replaying the tough moments before Sam stormed out.

"He'll come back. He always does." You kept your voice soft, hoping to be reassuring.

Dean's lips pursed and he shook his head again. "Leaving is all he has ever done. Let him be done for good. I don't care. He certainly doesn't. You know what? Good for him. That's all he's ever wanted. Let him get his white picket fence."

The air conditioning picked up in the room, making it a dozen times colder. You shivered involuntarily and for a moment, concern filled his face, his eyes seeming a worried green. That only lasted a second before it was shook off. He was too pissed to focus. As long as you were able to keep him talking, you hoped you could convince him to lie down.

"He cares, Dean, and you do too." You continued to try and search for the right words to say. Before you had the chance, Dean interrupted.

"I don't want to talk, Y/N," he snapped.

"But Dean-"

"I said I don't want to talk. You might as well have left with him."

Okay, that one stung. You needed to work harder to tell yourself he didn't really mean these words. He was hurt. He felt betrayed. He needed to know you were stable and dependable.

"I didn't," you said quietly.

You lost the confidence to keep eye contact and glanced down. You swallowed. This place was too quiet all of a sudden. How you had managed to keep out of the argument in the first place was a miracle. Yet here you were in the middle of it.

Dean ignored your comment and walked to the cabinets, pulling out a drink from his special section that was saved for special events. As his back was turned, you quickly ushered yourself onto the couch in front of his gaming screen, a few feet from his favored chair. By the time Dean was facing you, you already had your back against the cushions. His eyes narrowed as he popped it open, glancing toward the glasses.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean. Now, will you be a gentlemen and pour me a glass? Or are we going to sit down and talk?" You asked.

Your answer was unsurprising as Dean turned back, grabbing two glasses. At least he wouldn't be drinking straight from the bottle anymore. Soon, the two of you were drinking in silence. Dean moved to sit next to you on the couch. If the two of you weren't able to have a conversation, the least you could do was provide him company. You didn't want to be alone either.

You kept your ears perked, praying for Sam's return. As the night wore on, it seemed unlikely he was coming back. Maybe tomorrow, you thought glumly. At least you could call and check on him. A handful of drinks later an dyou began to forget why your heart felt so heavy. Dean eventually turned a show on the tv and you head drifted to his shoulder. You were exhausted and borderline drunk. Okay, you were drunk.

There were a handful of problems you could deal with in the morning, but now, you needed rest.

Dean woke before you. You stirred lightly, wrapping your arms around a pillow, ignoring the ache in your back. Whatever your head had been lying on changed to something softer but not as comfortable. You let out a few soft groans, upset settling in your stomach, and pushed it aside to get back to sleep.

You were successful. You didn't know how much more time had passed, but it was a couple hours short of afternoon by the time you came to. You stretched backwards and your body fell against the couch, unaware of your location. Your eyes shot open before you relaxed, realizing you had fallen asleep in the man cave. You rubbed the sleep out of them as the process of waking up hit you.

It took a few minutes of sitting still to let it sink in. Sam was gone. To ensure Dean's safety, you drank with him. Around two in the morning, you had knocked out. You knew Dean had been awake then, though it seemed he remained next to you for most of the night. Although it hadn't been the first time you two had fallen asleep next to each other, this event made you feel surprisingly guilty and it had to be simply because Sam didn't know. The three of you didn't keep secrets from each other. At least, that's what you thought before yesterday evening. You hoped most of what the brothers said to one another were lies, made up just to spite and anger the other even more. There were things they claimed to have done that you had no idea about. But no matter what either had done, they were brothers and cared for each other. To you, they were your best friends and only family.

Now, your family had been split in half. That had to be fixed, but you had no clue where to start. Once the full memories played over in your mind, it was a new type of pain that filled throughout your body. You had begged Sam not to go. He decided that was not an option and offered for you to go with him. You knew Dean's abandonment issues. Losing both of you would be even more devastating and that wasn't something you could do to him. So you stayed. You would make yourself not regret it, no matter what.

The lights flickered on, causing an annoyed groan. A small, sad chuckle sounded from across the room. Dean stood, holding a cup of coffee. Your heart filled at the sight. You hoped to be an encouraging presence today while ignoring the dread of knowing you needed to persude Dean to talk about the fight at some point.

"Morning to you too, sunshine," Dean said.

He walked over and handed you the coffee. It was fresh. Maybe Dean hadn't been up for as long as you thought. You took a few sips, relishing the heat.

"None for you?" You asked. Normally you would have teased him for the sunshine comment, but figured he could use a pass.

"Nah," he shook his head. At least he wasn't hungover. The same couldn't have been said for you.

"Dean," you started. He shook his head again and you quieted. There was a chance some alcohol remained in you because you decided you weren't in the mood to be shrugged off. "Dean, listen. You don't have to talk about the fight or even about Sam if you don't want to. Not right now, anyway. But I don't want it to be some taboo to act like he never existed. He was my friend too and if I want to talk about him, I should be able to do that."

You sighed dramatically after your small speech. Dean was quiet and you glanced to try and read his emotions. Before being given the chance, he responded. That itself might have been more shocking than his answer.

"I guess there's a small, tiny chance you might possibly, very rarely be right. And I don't want to talk about it. But if you need me to listen, I can, but I'm not holding back any sarcastic comments," he said.

You almost smiled at that. "And I wouldn't ask you too."

"You look like you need something to eat. I'm starving. Wanna go to the burger joint nearby?" Dean asked.

It was a change of subject. Not a very graceful one, but you figured that would be as much of the Sam topic that could be handled at the moment. You nodded and got to your feet. You were hungry too, after all. You insisted on changing outfits, especially after noticing Dean had. He responded he would be waiting in Baby.

When you made it back to your room, you eagerly found your cell phone. You opened and went to the notifications, disappointment coloring your cheeks as you observe no word from Sam. You figure you have a few minutes, though if you took too long, Dean surely would guess you were trying to contact his younger brother. You decided on shooting him a text instead.

Hey.

Once in nicer smelling apparel, you grabbed a small bag and tossed your phone in it, along with your wallet, lip balm, and pocket knife. Your usual bag. Some things never changed and some weren't meant to yet they did.

Time passed by.

You would have been surprised by the hours, days, and weeks, but felt too numb to do anything. You and Dean slowly began to fall into a routine. The two of you would be up in time for breakfast together, spend the long days researching or reading. That was mostly you, especially since you decided to carry the burden of filling two jobs. Dean spent most of his time in front of the television with a beer.

Occasionally the two of you would practice sword fighting. An hour usually went by before the first vase was broken. There were too many of those around anyway. You two would go to a shooting range. You claimed it was just good practice, but you knew Dean needed to let off steam. He would make lunch the days you two hung out, usually sandwiches. Attempting to be adventurous for dinner, you would spend a couple of hours in the kitchen trying to find something new. Other times, Dean insisted going for a drive and sitting down at a restaurant.

It was around a month before Dean found a case. He had been channel surfing and landed on the news station, reporting on mysterious deaths about five hours away. Making your go-bag was surprisingly difficult with the lingering knowledge that you would be sitting shotgun. The fact was glanced over by Dean, who seemed to be in better spirits. He put in his rock CDs and the pair of you had a two person concert for most of the drive. It was nice to have the windows down, wind blowing your hair back. It was the most relaxed you felt in a long time. Dean even had a real, genuine smile once during the trip. You were belting some very inappropriate lyrics out at the top of your lungs, enjoying the music, and Dean happened to glance over at you, and the sight made him smile.

The job ended too fast. The two of you split up, Dean talking to the police department and morgue while you went to interview the locals on foot. This was the first-time in over a month you had actually been separated, no longer in the same building. It was an easy solve and once the regular salt and burn was completed, it was time to head back.

It was nice to hear Dean talk about the case on the way back home. He had been so quiet lately. Although he said he would be willing to listen if you wanted to talk about Sam, you'd only done it once since then. That had been a few days later. You attempted to casually bring him up in conversation, making some stupid joke. Dean had been paying attention, but it was clear he had zoned out. There was no point in trying if he wouldn't make an effort.

That went for both brothers. You tried calling Sam a week after he left, but the phone said the line was busy. You had tossed your phone onto the desk in frustration. It was difficult not to take their actions personally. You knew as fact they were beyond pissed with each other and that it was totally okay to take some space from one another for a small time. It was fine to regroup with a clear headspace. But that was if they were willing to work through their issues and by the look of things, that wasn't happening.

You tried not to be hurt. Dean didn't mean to stop talking as often as he did. He even said that a few times. It was just that he wasn't sure what to say and after what happened, he was tired of saying the wrong thing. That was easier to forgive, especially after a long, much needed hug. He rested his chin on the top of your head and the two of you stayed like that for minutes, comfortable in one another's arms.

Not knowing how Sam was doing was difficult. It wasn't just Dean that he left. It was you too. Their words and actions against each other had consequences that went beyond them. It was hard to forgive someone that didn't apologize. It became much easier when said person called, however.

Two nights after returning from the hunt, you were laying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You knew it was late, but it was just one of those nights. You had been tossing and turning for hours when your phone rang. It was an unknown number. There was a chance it was a solicitor and you should let it go to voicemail. Instead, your hopes got the better of you and you answered.

"Hello?" You greeted, trying to tone down the eagerness.

There was a hesitated breath on the other line. You doubted it was some creepy stalker. It took a few more moments, but the voice finally responded, ensuring you would not be sleeping tonight.

"Y/N, hi." It was Sam.

It was your turn to be speechless. You needed to think of something before he decided to hang up. Fortunately, Sam continued talking.

"I- uh, I'm sorry I haven't talked to you. I changed phones. I, I really need to apologize, and make sure you know that my leaving is about me, and Dean, and not you," he said.

His voice was hushed like someone might be listening in. The stutter made you question if he was nervous to be talking to you or if he was possibly in a bad situation and needed help. Your mind naturally went to the latter, dreading the worst.

"Go ahead," you offered.

There was a light chuckle on the other line. "Well, I'm sorry about the way I left. I wish you and I... I wish we had been able to figure some things out sooner. Dean and I have crossed lines with each other too often and there was going to be a breaking point. I'm sorry you had to witness it. I'm sure he hasn't been easy to deal with."

"I don't want to talk about him right now," you said. You knew you should be saying more, that you should be thrilled he reached out to you. You mostly felt sad. Hearing his voice brought a new level of longing you hadn't yet experienced.

"Okay. How are you?"

You could see him now, standing outside, pacing on the phone. He would be glancing around, always aware of his surroundings, and smiling as if you were actually in front of him. He would run a hand through his hair when he thought you didn't want to talk to him.

"I'm alright, I guess. I miss you," you said. Honesty is a good start. The most disappointing part of the conversation is the one that won't happen. You know one conversation won't convince him to return.

"I miss you too."

You wanted to run down the hallway and grab Dean. You wanted Sam here. You wanted this relationship fixed and your family back to normal.

"Are you okay?" You asked. You sighed quietly, berating yourself for still not being able to get more than a few words out each time you answered.

"Yeah, yeah. I am. I'm in Missouri right now. I'm still figuring things out, what I want to do and all that," he said.

Depending where he was in Missouri, there was a chance he was only a few hours away. You knew better than to get your hopes up, but couldn't help yourself when saying, "You could come home."

Sam sighed. "The Bunker isn't my home anymore."

You bit your lip and glanced around your room as it began to blur. "Sam, our home has never been a building. It's always been one another."

There was a prolonged pause. You knew he wasn't considering it, you knew that. You shouldn't even think that's what he was doing. He must be searching for a way to let you down gently. Maybe this phone call would be the final goodbye. Maybe Sam had been preparing himself for that this past month. You didn't want that.

"You're right. And I know next you'll say Dean and I are brothers so we need to forgive each other and move on. I guess I have forgiven him, but I've also moved on. I'm tired of always fighting. You have been such a blessing in my life, Y/N. I'm so grateful for all the years we've been together. I hope that you and I can still continue to see each other, every once in a while. Maybe once I'm more settled. But I'm not coming back."

You slowly let out a breath and closed your eyes. You had managed to make it this long without crying, you didn't need to start now. Your pain had different plans as a tear slipped down your cheek onto your shirt and shorts. You hadn't felt this alone in a very long time.

"I can't say I agree. This isn't what I want, but I guess I can see your decision. I hope we can see each other too. You will never need to lose my number, Sam. We're friends, please don't ever forget that. You know I love you, right?" You said quietly.

"Friends, yeah. I won't forget. And I love you too. I'll call you later, okay? I've got to go." With that, he hung up.

Putting your head between your knees, you curled yourself together. Unable to hold back your sobs, you let the tears flow. Your family really was gone for good. Even if you were able to see Sam, it wouldn't be the same. It was you and Dean now.

Deciding not to be alone, you decided to head to Dean's room. You knocked lightly on the door and when there was no response, you pushed it open enough to glance in. You learned a long time ago to be weary going into Dean's room at night. Luckily, he hadn't ever brought anyone to the Bunker before, which meant going to others' places, or choosing to be with Sam and you instead. You favored the latter much more.

You creaked the door open further, letting the light from the hall shine into his room. Your gaze finally settled on the bed centered in the middle of the room. Dean often slept in such strange positions as he was tonight. You closed the door behind you and crept over to him. Despite tousled dark hair, Dean looked peaceful as he slept. It wasn't a sight you were used to. You felt weird just crawling into bed next to him, so you decided to poke him until he woke up.

"W-what? Huh?" Dean groaned and stretched, pushing his arms back. His nose scruntched as worked to see in the dark room.

"Got room for one more?" You whispered.

Dean's eyes met yours. For a few moments, you forgot why you went to him. Dean nodded and scooted over, an arm outstretched. You fell against him easily, tucking your head against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you after pulling the blankets to your shoulders. Although you still felt awake, you closed your eyes and snuggled against him. You remained in his arms the rest of the night.

The next morning, the two of you woke around the same time. Being so close to one another made it hard not to wake when the other did. You didn't mind. Dean's arm was a surprisingly comforting pillow and with one arm over your stomach, he was quite the heater. You considered the effort of getting up and decided to remain next to him a bit longer.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

You both knew the other had been awake for at least fifteen minutes, but you remained unmoving. You weren't sure how you were feeling. You knew you needed to tell Dean about the phone call, but thought it could cause a large backtrack on the progress he had made. Would it be better to know he was forgiven if Sam wasn't even coming back? You weren't even sure if he had forgiven Sam. Dean was quite skilled at holding grudges. You didn't want to be on the receiving end of a silent treatment.

"Sam called last night," you said quietly.

Dean's hand pulled away. Cold instantly covered your skin, along with piles of doubt and insecurities. He sat up, leaning against his bed frame. You did the same. You weren't sure why, but you felt the urge to grab his hand as proof that you were still staying with Dean. You had done nothing to betray his friendship.

You watched Dean go through the motions. His first instinct has always been to close himself off and pretend specific events didn't happen. He breathed heavily through his nostrils before seeming to calm down. Dean's tired gaze met yours.

"What did he want?" His tone matched yours, if not a bit more distant.

"He said he was sorry. That he didn't mean for things to go down the way they did. He misses us... but he's still out." You managed to not say everything in one breath, which was good. You told the truth and you did it sooner than later. That's all you could do.

Dean nodded. His pajama pants brushed your legs as he made his way out of bed. You watched him move, unsure of what to say. You forgot how many scars he had on his chest and back. Your hand had been on his bare chest while you slept yet you weren't able to feel them. Some wounds were superficial and others weren't so evident.

"I'm sorry, Dean," you finally said.

He paced for a few minutes before you spoke, glancing at you every once in a while. When you apologized, a joyless smile covered his face as he looked at you with such sad eyes. "For what? None of this is your fault."

"Dean..." You saw it too late. He was beating himself up.

"It's mine. It's always been my fault. I'm the big brother that's never been able to protect him. I've always messed up. That's why dad... It doesn't matter now. They're all gone." Dean sounded broken.

You got out of the bed and walked over to him, wrapping your arms tightly around his large build. He stood motionless, so you pulled back to look at him, keeping your hands on him. Dean looked down at you, his green eyes too bright in the dark room.

"It's okay, Dean. It's okay. Sam's fine. He wants to be on his own for a while, okay? And you haven't messed up. You've kept the both of you alive for so long. Dean, I need you to realize you are not responsible for your brother's actions. You are a good brother and you did your best."

You had more planned to say, but Dean was willing to return the hug at this point. The two of you remained silent, letting this moment break the final barriers.

"I love you, Dean," you sniffled.

Dean shook in your arms. His voice croaked. "I love you too, Y/N."

That could have been it. You could have stayed in his arms the rest of your life.

But life goes on. Soon enough, the two of you were getting coffee and donuts. This day dragged on longer than most. You felt less productive than normal and that wasn't saying much either. Dean seemed to be doing better, closer to accepting Sam's decision. It wasn't that he needed to forgive Sam, it was that he needed to forgive himself.

You spent more time together, doing more random activities, and sending more uncertain smiles to one another. You would spend hours in silence, reading, or just lost in thought. You started to spend more nights together. The only times you weren't asleep in his bed was when he stayed up late to watch a sports game or got lost in a book. You became less interested in hunts and more interested in just being around Dean.

Two months passed without word from Sam. You began to analyze each word from the phone call. Was there something you could have done differently? You doubted it, but there was always that chance. It was while you were out of state on a hunt that your phone rang. You were sure it was yours because you had deliberately made yours sound different than Dean's. The two of you were snug together one night in a motel room when the ringing startled you from your slumber.

Dean groaned. "Who the hell is calling this late at night?"

You reached over to the nightstand and dug out your phone. The caller ID remained the same as the last call, not that you had memorized it. You looked between the phone and Dean and back again. Dean closed his eyes, wanting to settle back into sleep.

"Go back to bed, I'll be in the hall," you whispered.

You put on your slippers and grabbed Dean's flannel that was placed on the chair nearby. You threw it over your tank top as you stepped into the hallway. You hit answer, tapping your foot expectantly.

"Y/N?" His voice rang out, eager.

"Sam, if you and I are in the same time zone right now, you have some explaining to do." That might not have been the nicest greeting, but you were tired.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize it was close to midnight. I've been working on a project and wanted your thoughts," he said, a bit more dejected.

You sighed. "I'm glad to hear from you, but honestly, I would like it to be more often. What's the project?"

"I get that. I guess I've just been forgetful lately. Not of you, of course, just in general. The project is- Hey, where are you? Your background sound is real shaky, not like the Bunker," Sam said distractedly.

"I'm working a case," you yawned.

Sam hesitated. "Dean there?"

"In the other room. The project?" You asked. You tried not to sound short with him, but my goodness were you exhausted. You swore you were able to hear Sam nod.

"Right. Well, I'm sure you need some rest. A tired hunter is a dead one, right? Anyway, why don't you give me a call when you're back in town? We can meet somewhere in the middle if that works for you. I'm keeping this number."

"Yeah, okay. That works for me. I'll talk to you soon then."

The line clicked.

You smiled to yourself as you went back into the room. Dean was already snoring.

You waited until after the hunt to tell Dean about the phone call, which was another three days. He forgot all about it. He stayed quiet as you talked and looked at you when you were done. You joked he needed to keep his pretty eyes on the road or he would lose them.

"So you're going to meet him?" He asked nonchalantly.

You took a breath. "Yes."

Dean nodded, suddenly agreeing to stare at the road ahead. "Do you need me to drop you off somewhere?"

You were surprised by the offer. Dean probably wanted to see Sam, though he would never admit it. You swallowed. Sam didn't particularly seem interested in seeing Dean.

"I was thinking about taking one of the cars in the garage, since they never get used," you said.

Dean agreed. He seemed hesitant for you to leave.

It was a day after you returned from the hunt that you called Sam to schedule the meeting. You wanted to catch up on sleep first, though that wasn't easy when the thought of seeing Sam again was on your mind. He answered after the second ring.

"Y/N, hey. I think I found a good spot to meet," he said.

Sam sounded excited. This conversation was shorter than the last, but it left you in higher spirits. You had a plan to drive and meet Sam tomorrow in the afternoon. You fixed eggs and bacon the next morning for you and Dean. He knew bacon meant news. You filled him in.

"That was fast," he mumbled.

"Dean, it's probably only going to be a few hours," you assured him.

He begrudgingly agreed, giving you a hug before you left. The drive was longer than expected and much quieter than you preferred. There were no CDs, only radio stations that played nothing but advertisements. When you pulled into the parking lot, you searched for the car missing from the Bunker's garage. And there it was. You parked next to it, disappointed to see he wasn't in it. You grabbed your bag and headed inside.

You glanced around slowly, scanning. It took too many moments to find a man as tall as Sam. He raised his hand to gather your attention. When you finally saw him, smiles lit both of your faces. You nearly ran into his arms. It had been over three months without him. You gasped when you stepped back and realized it was no wonder you didn't recognize him.

"Sam, your hair!" You exclaimed.

It was gone. Well, it was still there, just cut so much shorter.

He grinned sheepishly, a light blush on his cheeks. Excitement swarmed his bright eyes. "I know, I know. I figured it was time for a haircut. Come, sit. Let's talk. Tell me how you've been."

So you did. You told him again how much you missed him and he returned the sentiment. You briefly went over the cases you and Dean worked, knowing that was probably not something Sam wanted to hear. You talked about some new books you had read. You moved back to the subject you were more interested in, being Sam. He filled you in on what he had been doing the last few months. He'd been traveling. He spent some time doing odd jobs, fixing things. He was looking for somewhere nice to stay. The project he had mentioned was surprisingly mundane and rather boring. You actually began to zone out during the hour he spent talking about it.

Sam seemed happy. He still talked with his hands. He still started sentences with So get this. But his hair was cut. And he was in a strange t-shirt that wasn't plaid. His shoes looked like they were made for walking around buildings, not running into danger. Sam really had changed.

He saw your hesitancy and invited it, asking you questions. The boundaries were gone. You appeared as two friends catching up and you realized that's exactly what you were. The thought made you ache on the inside, but you kept your smile. You answered his questions and he answered yours.

You had missed your best friend. That much was evident, especially after when the two of you finally stepped outside, the sky was dark. Worry filled your stomach as you made your way to the old fashion cars. You smiled fondly at the one he had chosen. It was a good one for sure.

"It was really nice seeing you, Y/N. I want to see you more often," Sam said.

"You have to call more for that to happen," you laughed. "I'm happy you're doing well, Sam."

You felt at ease around Sam, forgetting the worries and the troubles of the world. The pair of you parted after a lingering hug and you sped back to the Bunker, not making it back until close to three in the morning. You entered the building with a deep sigh. You discarded the keys, taking your purse in your hand.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until having to walk down the long stairwell to enter. The hallways filled with bedrooms seemed so far. Knowing the library was closer, you went there and stumbled onto the couch. Although there was no blanket or Dean to keep you warm, it would do. You soon drifted into a heavy sleep.

A few hours later, your name was being called. Choosing to ignore it, you buried your head closer into the cushions. Footsteps grew louder as the deep voice shouting your name grew more worried. They passed by and you remained silent, begging your brain to let you fall back into your dream. All too soon, the lights were on. A sigh of relief could be heard from across the room.

"Y/N, there you are." Concern and relief were heavy in Dean's voice.

You rubbed your eyes, squinting as you gazed at the man moving toward you. He looked more tired than you felt, which you thought was impossible. You groaned again, still unmoving. You swore Dean looked happy for a moment, but his eyebrows furrowed and it was gone again.

"Y/N, are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine, Dean. I'm tired," you mumbled.

"I thought... You didn't call... You said it would be a few hours." Dean barely managed a sentence, agitated.

"I thought it would be. I didn't pay attention to the time," you yawned and sat up.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It took a few moments to realize it was now longer than Sam's. That startling thought helped wake you.

"What are you so worked up about?" You asked.

"When did you get back?" Something in his voice sounded hurt, but you couldn't place it.

"Don't answer a question with a question."

"I'm worked up because I thought you would be gone a few hours and waited up to make sure you were okay," Dean snapped.

"If you were so worried, you could have called," you said.

You stood up, not wanting to have a disagreement this early. You yawned again and faced Dean. His jaw was set.

"Maybe I didn't want to interrupt," he suggested.

"Interrupt what, Dean? Two people talking?" You asked, exasperated.

His shoulders set back. You should have toned down, but were too exhausted to think straight. He was pestering you far too much, too soon, too early.

"Why are you mad, Dean?" You pressed. "You said you were fine with me going to see Sam."

"I am! And I'm not mad."

You were getting frustrated. Of course he was mad. Why else would he act like this? It wasn't his job to be protective over where you were or how long you were out. That was one of the reasons you worked so well in the past, neither of you asked a bunch of questions and provided needed space.

"No? You're not mad?" You laughed. "Forget it. I need to use the restroom."

You began to walk around Dean. His movements were swift. He moved his arm out, intercepting you. He stood before you, eyes staring uncertainly into yours. You registered what was about to happen and leaned in, closing the gap. Your lips pressed together and Dean and you were kissing. Dean and you were kissing. His hands covered your cheeks, intently needing this moment. Your hands found his hips, steadying you.

Whoa.

Dean decided to make his feelings clear. As simply as possible, he said he was in love with you. He has been for a long time and needed you to know. He wasn't mad that you saw Sam. He was jealous. After informing Dean that he was silly and ridiculous since you saw him everyday, another bombshell was dropped. Dean claimed the reason he never made a move on you before was Sam had confided in him some years ago that he thought he was in love with you too, so he thought yesterday that Sam would convince you to go with him.

That was a lot to take in. Your feelings for Dean were solidified after that kiss and about a dozen more. You already knew you loved him. You were guessing this was what it was like to be in love with him as well. But your feelings for Sam were less certain. Of course you loved him, you always had. Truthfully, he was easier to talk to. But you knew regardless you wouldn't change your mind between staying with Sam or Dean. Sam could make it on his own, be successful and happy. Dean only knew hunting. That was a depressing life in and of itself. He needed someone.

You were sure of that. You decided to take the idea of a relationship slow with Dean. He was happy to go at whatever pace you were comfortable with. He seemed more relaxed now that you knew the truth.

Once again, you and Dean fell into an easy routine. Your life became more domesticated. That was just as shocking a realization, when you never thought that was a life you would have. It was Dean wearing a kiss the cook apron and reading to one another. It was becoming wonderful very quick.

About a week later you got a call from Sam. You spent at leat half an hour on the phone this time, talking more about his project that you weren't interested in. It was nice to hear him talk though. He sounded peaceful, without worries. He wanted to meet again. You paused before agreeing, determining it would have to be either closer to the Bunker or much earlier in the day to give you plenty of time to return home before nightfall. Sam agreed.

"No promises, but I'll try harder this time to be home before dark," you told Dean with a smile.

He playfully narrowed his eyes. "I'd say so. You should know bad things happen in the dark."

You laughed. "Bad things happen day or night, Dean. I'll see you soon."

With a kiss goodbye, you left to see Sam.

The two of you met about an hour closer to home. Sam noticed you were happier and commented, asking if something changed. You faltered. You wanted to tell him about you and Dean. Besides the relationship being so fresh, you didn't want to risk this being a wall between you and Sam. If he still had the same feelings for you that Dean claimed he had all that time ago, what if he didn't want to see you anymore? It was too much to risk.

You ended up telling him you just felt better overall, that you were thinking of convincing Dean to get a kitten. Sam laughed at that.

"Good luck. I've been trying to have a dog all my life."

"You could get one now, couldn't you?" You asked.

You thought the question was innocent, but Sam gave you a funny look. "Yeah, I guess I could."

"What was that?" You asked.

"What was what?" He questioned.

"What is it with you boys answering questions with questions? You changed when I suggested adopting a dog," you told him.

Sam offered a small smile. "I'm just surprised you aren't trying to convince me to go back, that's all."

Oh.

"Should I be? Sam, you made it pretty adamant you don't want to come back. If you've changed your mind, that won't be held against you-"

"No, no. It's not that. Just surprised. You're right. I should think about adopting." His smile was more clipped and he glanced down.

You weren't sure what it was, but something in your friendship felt different. There was distance between you two that hadn't been there before. You didn't mean the drive either. Or the table. Something happened in the conversation that led Sam to back down and you didn't know what.

You decided to take a risk.

"Sam, if you are considering going back to the Bunker, don't feel ashamed. It's your home if you want it to be. I stopped bringing it up because I thought that's what you wanted. Your family isn't going anywhere," you assured him.

His wide smile was back. You leaned back, feeling comfortable again. He nodded. The conversation moved along.

Keeping an eye on the time, you told Sam that you needed to head back. His shoulders sagged with disappointment, but he accepted it without argument. The two of you hugged once more, this time a bit tighter than before. At least you left confident this would not be the final goodbye, if there ever would be one.

You made a pitstop to grab ice cream before arriving home to Dean. The two of you were watching a movie when a strange sound caught your attention. Grabbing your weapons, the two of you went to the entrance. You glanced confused at one another as the door unlocked. Sam stood at the top of the stairwell.

Your mouth parted involuntarily at the sight. Dean stiffened beside you.

"Mind if I come in?" Sam asked with a nervous laugh.

A smile etched itself onto your face. It had been nearly four months since the brothers had been together. No matter your relationship with Dean, their relationship was just as important, if not more.

"Welcome back, little brother," Dean said.

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missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

Year 3 Part 9- Duel with Barnaby

Hey guys!

I enjoyed writing this one immensely because I feel like JC has butchered or reduced Barnaby down to an intelligence even lower than that of Patrick Star or Forest Gump. I feel there's a lot more depth to him even if he's not the brightest bulb on the porch. And though I give a lot of attention to Merula, he deserves a greater amount of coverage and nuance as well

So for those of you who like Barnaby, this one's for you. Enjoy!

How to approach a potentially hostile Slytherin: that was the ultimate question.

For David it presented a unique challenge, one untested until this very moment. For as long as he had attended Hogwarts, Slytherin House was an enemy, an antithesis to everything he believed in and a hindrance to finding the vaults along with his brother. Merula was the primary source for that picture, but it wasn’t only her. As Bill and Hagrid pointed out, many children of Death Eaters still attended the school, the overwhelming majority of them in Slytherin. And the ones that weren’t tended to be odd, reclusive, self obsessed, or alarmingly ambitious. It wasn’t a coincidence.

And yet in order to win over Barnaby to their side, he needed to drop these prejudices, at least for the moment. He still wasn’t sure this was a good idea but Tulip’s ideas, though often eccentric, tended to see things that others often overlooked. He would trust that instinct for now. The real problem was how to approach him.

Despite the huge Slytherin being seemingly more approachable, David was still quite hesitant. After all, they had opposed each other at least twice already and in both instances Barnaby was left either smelling like foul eggs or on the ground covered in snow. One wrong word might backfire immensely. He opted to try and talk to him in a more private setting but that proved to be impossible, as he was almost always with Merula and Ismelda during and after potions neither of which he had a desire to speak with at the moment.

So he tried a new approach, one more befitting of a Gryffindor but with a reasonable amount of tact. During lunch on a Wednesday, quiet by Hogwarts standards, he took the opportunity to walk over to the Slytherin table (with great caution) when Barnaby was alone and not flanked by the two girls. He was well aware of the dirty looks he received from the older students and some looked ready to curse him into oblivion, but he knew they wouldn’t, not with teachers everywhere. Most seemed content to ignore him.

“Barnaby?”

The teen looked up from his massive pile of roast beef and potatoes and gazed upon David with intense curiosity.

“Wat oo yu ooing er?”

“You might want to try swallowing.”

Barnaby did so and repeated the question though it was not hostile.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

At this point, some of the Slytherins were looking over and had their wands withdrawn but a silent hand from Barnaby eased that tension.

“About what’s been going on lately. And the vaults.”

Barnaby narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

“You know I stunk for weeks after that dungbomb. I’ve never taken so many baths in my life.”

“I’m sor-”

“And I mean three times a day. I didn’t know it was possible to bathe that many times. My mom said just once is usually enough.”

David paused at the childlike reasoning of the giant teen in front of him.

“Err...right. Sorry about that.”

Barnaby shrugged as though it had never happened.

“Tulip promised me a box of Peppermint Toads if I talked to you. What do you want?”

Good old, Tulip. She bribed the moron beforehand

“Do you like working for Merula?” he asked him directly.

Barnaby blinked stupidly at the question.

“I don’t work for her. We’re partners.” The statement sounded more like a question, doubt evident in his deep voice.

“Sure that’s why she considers you lesser than a bowl of tripe. But has she ever let you make a decision? Does she ever share her plans with you? Has she ever thanked you for anything?”

Barnaby thought for a second.

“No...no...and I forgot the last thing you said was.”

Resisting the urge to sigh, David continued on with his case.

“You should work with us, Barnaby. Not Merula. And notice how I said ‘with’ not ‘for’. I don’t treat my friends like objects to be cast aside.”

The Slytherin seemed to be taken aback.

“Why do you think I can help?”

“For many reasons, but above everything else you’re powerful and can duel better than most sixth years. I know firsthand how difficult it is to break into a cursed vault. We could use that kind of strength.”

It was quite clear from Barnaby’s reaction that no one had ever bothered to pay him that kind of compliment before or even if they had, it was few and far in between. He took his large fingers, which were covered in silver rings, and began rubbing his chin.

“Uh..you alright?”

“I’m thinking about your words.”

David made a final appeal to get the message across.

“I’m not going to boss you around or call you names like Merula does. I just want your help to find my brother. That’s all.”

Suddenly, a wide smile stretched across Barnaby’s face.

“I like you, Grant.”

“You do?” David asked, surprised it could possibly be this easy.

“Yeah! We should fight.”

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy

“What?” he said in a nonplussed tone.

“I need to prove I’m tough enough to help you and you need to prove you're tough enough to be my new partner,” Barnaby reasoned.

“But I’ve technically already beaten you.”

“That was three on one,” the burly teen shaking his head. “It doesn’t count. Group fighting isn’t the same as one on one.”

He finished eating the last of his lunch, stood up, and clapped a giant hand on David’s shoulder.

“Meet me on the training grounds this Friday after lessons. If you can beat me, I’ll ditch Merula and help you enter the next vault.”

“Why not just do it now?” David asked genuinely.

“Wouldn’t be fair that way,” Barnaby told him. “We both need time to get ready. See you on Friday!”

The third year Gryffindor could only watch as the Slytherin grabbed his bag and began to whistle cheerfully as he exited the Great Hall. It was only when a piece of bread was chucked at him along with an expletive he realized he needed to remove himself from Slytherin territory.

What he didn’t realize was what he had gotten himself into.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Rowan and Ben found out what he agreed to with Barnaby, both cautioned against it.

“Dave, no offense, you’re a good dueler, but Barnaby is the best in our year for a reason. It’s not a good idea to go up against him.”

“What if he seriously hurts you or something?” the blond asked nervously.

“Mates, I’ve explained this already. Barnaby isn’t trying to harm me he’s trying to test me. If I beat him one on one he’ll join us and stop hanging around Merula. We’ve got nothing to lose.”

David was looking over his last bit of notes in the Gryffindor common room before meeting Barnaby for their duel. The weather was surprisingly sunny, and the conditions ideal as you would find in late winter.

“But if wins you’ll just end up in the Hospital Wing and we go right back to where we started from,” Rowan pointed out. “And what then? I haven’t finished deciphering the notebook yet.”

“And Merula will just come after you even more,” Ben added.

David put on his jacket and hat while pocketing his wand. Classes were done and he was ready. Barnaby might be twice as large and physically stronger but he couldn’t back down now.

“You guys worry too much,” he told them with a somewhat cocky smile. “If I can handle three Slytherins at a time, then I’m going to be more than fine against one.”

“Just be careful,” his best friend told him. “We don’t know if we can trust Barnaby yet. Keep your guard up.”

David smiled knowing full well Rowan was just looking out for his well being and he appreciated the gesture.

“I will. Now wish me luck and watch me as I win this duel.”

As he exited and pushed past the portrait of the fat lady, Ben couldn’t help but sigh with jealousy.

“He asked for luck but still has full confidence that he’s going to win the duel. I wish I carried myself like that.”

“Don’t envy everything about Dave,” Rowan said wisely as he read his Magical History book. “He’s more complicated than lets on.”

“But...he’s the most competent person I know save for the teachers. He’s taught me so many things.”

“I’m his best friend, Ben. But even I don’t know all that he’s been through.”

The blond appeared puzzled.

“What are you saying? As far as I’m concerned, he’s a hero.”

Rowan shut his book with a soft thud.

“Even heroes have demons.”

Neither boy spoke much after that but each seemed to consider that the leader of their group had a cocky streak that hid something much deeper.

Even if he would never admit doing so.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sure enough, Barnaby was there waiting for him upon his arrival. By now the snow on the ground had begun to melt a little and the grass below them was little more than a muddle cesspool. But neither minded so much as the milder weather provided the perfect chance to duel without the howling wind or hail. David greeted him in a friendly manner to start things off on the right foot.

“You showed up,” the Slytherin said simply.

“Well yeah, it’s a duel after all.”

This seemed to cater to Barnaby’s simple way of looking at things as he smiled once more.

“I like you, Grant. You keep being nice. If you beat me in a duel, I know you’re tough for real.”

“And then you’ll stop working with Merula and help us find the next Cursed Vault?”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

David paused for a second, confused, though he tried to be as patient as he could be. After all, Barnaby probably didn’t remember what he had for breakfast.

“It was your idea, Barnaby…”

“Oh, right. I’ll do my idea then.”

David by now knew enough about the gargantuan teen to be aware that he was not taking the mickey and also the sincerity of his personality. Certainly a different kind of opponent than he had taken on in the past.

They took positions about thirty feet from each other and each withdrew their wands.

“I’ll warn you, David. I’ve never lost a duel,” Barnaby said with a confident grin.

The Gryffindor could only grin back.

“That’s funny, neither have I.”

Without warning, however, Barnaby struck first sending a disarming spell his way, which he managed to avoid. But unlike his other opponents, Barnaby didn’t rest on his laurels. Spell after spell and ‘Expelliarmus’ after ‘Expelliarmus’, the barrage was relentless and it was so quick David barely had time to recover and send anything back.

After the six stunner, he managed to fire off a Knockback jinx but it only threw back the Slytherin back a few yards and he stayed on his feet.

“Son of a…”

He never had time to finish the swear as Barnaby sent a slew of ropes towards him which missed but then caught him with a blasting curse, the impact of which sent him sprawling on the ground.

Not giving up, he leapt back up and fired back.

‘Depulso!’

The spell sailed over Barnaby’s right shoulder and he responded in kind.

‘Convulsio!’

The spell hit his left leg and it began spazzing as though he had a charlie horse. The sensation was incredibly uncomfortable but David gritted his teeth and managed to dodge another one of Barnaby’s spells, ‘Restricta!’

Ignoring the pain, he tried to use a time old tactic: distraction.

‘Fumo!’

Smoke temporarily blocked Barnaby’s view but with a wave of his wand, he cast it aside and sent another stunner before David could follow up a blasting hex.

Okay, this isn’t working

The burly Slytherin hadn’t been lying: he was good and it was also easy to see why he never lost a duel. His spellwork was precise and accurate, but also fast and nearly impossible to sidestep. The incantations combined with flicks of the wrist and a strong stance made Barnaby the toughest opponent he yet faced.

As he was forced to dodge yet another spell, this one blue in color, he flicked his wand forward and managed to hit Barnaby in the stomach with a tickling spell in order to buy time. To his shock, however, the effect did little other than to cause him to clutch his stomach.

“Those kinds of spells won’t work on me,” he called out. “I just so happen to be immune to tickling.”

It was the first thing Barnaby said all the while they were dueling, a refreshing change of pace from Merula, but the irrefutable fact remained. The Slytherin’s relentless battering ram style was unlike anything he faced before and only raw brute strength would take him down, strength that was failing him.

David was forced to bend down onto one knee when Barnaby yelled out ‘Stupefy’ in order to stun him. Clearly he was intent on ending this soon as his left leg had already given out.

No, not yet

Taking aim, the teenage Gryffindor did the only thing he felt was available to him. He knew the incantation and though he never attempted it personally, felt there was nothing left to lose. Either he would succeed or Barnaby would win the duel.

‘Stupefy!’

A powerful blast of red light shot forward and caught Barnaby square in the chest, uplifting him off his feet and onto the ground in a massive heap.

Breathing heavily, David limped over to Barnaby with the last he could give on his bad leg and offered his hand to the utterly dazed and confused opponent.

“Wha…”

“Come on, big guy.”

Once returned to his senses the Slytherin pushed himself back onto his feet and almost took David with him, who could barely stand as it was, causing him to grunt with pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, David.”

Barnaby cast the counter curse and instantly his leg went back to normal.

“Thanks.”

“Blimey, I thought you had to be mean to hurt someone that badly,” the Slytherin spoke aloud rubbing his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Are you kidding? This is nothing. A few of us Slytherins start every day by doing what we just did. They say it gets you in the right mindset.”

“Mindset for what?” David asked, very curious as to what kind of culture he was dealing with.

“To toughen up and be the best,” came the simple reply.

He elected not to press the issue and instead emphasize his victory respectfully in hopes that Barnaby would finally acquiesce and willingly join his team.

“Well there’s no doubt you’re tough, Barnaby. Will you help me with the cursed vault?”

Barnaby smiled, although he was still in some pain from the duel. They both were.

“You’ve proven you’re strong enough to beat me. You have a deal, David. But on one condition.”

Oh Merlin

“And what would that be?”

“We celebrate with a butterbeer,” he said cherrily.

“But there’s no Hogsmeade visit this weekend.”

“I can never remember when those happen,” Barnaby said, scratching his head. “But luckily, I always keep some on hand.”

He summoned two canteens from his back pocket and handed one to David, which he took with a degree of surprise.

“Cheers!” the Barnaby said, clinking his canteen against his and taking a large sip. “Let’s take a walk around the grounds.”

David obliged and together, the two began to traverse around the perimeter of the school, taking in the light breeze and bright blue sky which was beginning to turn into a reddish, gold. The young teen didn’t know what to expect but he indulged Barnaby all the same, who appeared quite content.

“I love a good butterbeer after a duel. They say it heals all bruises and broken bones.”

“Who says that?” David asked, raising an eyebrow.

Barnaby shrugged.

“I can’t remember. I’m sure someone said it.”

Resisting the urge to openly chuckle, David again marveled at the simplicity that his newfound acquaintance operated under. It was stupidly charming in a way. Given this fact, there was a question lurking in his mind he felt he had to ask him.

“You say I’m nice, but you’re quite friendly yourself. Too friendly to be hanging out with Merula. How did you two end up being friends?”

Barnaby’s face turned frank and even a bit solemn.

“We have a lot in common. Both of our parents were Death Eaters.”

David had to resist choking on his butterbeer.

“Wait...really?” He knew Merula’s parents were locked up in Azkaban but this was new information to him.

“Why are you so surprised? Everyone knows Slytherins have the most interesting childhoods,” Barnaby stated as though it were obvious.

“Interesting is one way of putting it I suppose.”

“Do you mean being the children of Death Eaters? Because you’re not wrong. There’s a lot of us in Slytherin. We have to stick together because no one else will.”

David never considered this aspect before. There was something very raw but also very poignant about what the burly Slytherin was saying.

“I never thought of it that way, but you might be right.”

“That’s why I believe Harry Potter will be a Slytherin. Someone that powerful as a baby has to be in our house!”

“Who knows,” the Gryffindor said with a half shrug. “He could be incredibly brave too. Sounds more like my house.”

“It’s power that helps protect yourself and people you care about. It’s better to be strong than weak.”

David suddenly realized these weren’t only Barnaby’s words.

“Look I can’t believe I’m saying this, but not every Slytherin has to be obsessed with being powerful. You don’t seem that way. So why focus on it all the time?”

“Because it’s what my dad taught me. His words. ‘It’s better to be strong than weak.’ Anything that can make you more powerful can only help in that.”

He sighed as he put his canteen back inside the pants pocket.

“You probably think my family is mad. I don’t blame you.”

“Far from it,” David reassured him and suddenly they stopped in front of the Whomping Willow, a dangerous tree liable to strike anything that came near it.

“They were Death Eaters. To be a Death Eater, everyone says you have to be mad.”

“I can relate to unstable family members. Try me.”

Barnaby considered this for a second, silver rings glistening in the sunlight one of which was inscribed ‘Vires In Virtute’. Far from being a simpleton, this time the Slytherin was considering how to properly explain things.

“My family’s crest follows the creed of strength. We’ve also been pure blood for centuries. For my dad, it was an opportunity and a duty to remain both. He followed the Dark Lord more willingly than others….I saw him once, actually.”

David almost didn’t register that last remark. It was one thing to read about the darkest wizard in many generations but to see him? He almost did a double take.

“You saw You Know Who?”

“He stopped by once as a little kid. At first I was afraid but my parents told me if I could become as strong as the Dark Lord, I could be anything. Mum was nice, but dad always said I was slow. It was the best way for me to be good at something. So I’ve spent my entire life doing so, even after they were both arrested.”

“When did that happen?”

“Shortly after You Know Who died. Didn’t take long for the Aurors to catch up. They were well known for doing a lot of horrible things.”

Following the duel in the foggy snow, David remembered feeling a pang of sympathy for Barnaby when hearing Merula insulting him. That pang was now a large wave.

“Barnaby, mate. There’s more to life than being strong. And those other kids aren’t the only ones to take after. You should do what makes you happy rather than what pleases other people...including your mum and dad.”

He looked up at the willow alongside Barnaby, studying its bare branches and thick, gnarled trunk.

“I know what it’s like to try and live up to an older family member. I’m trying to find him right now. And that’s what I need your help with.”

“Your friends won’t hate me? Or think I’m mad?”

“No. If anything it’s the opposite,” David said truthfully. Even uninformed people thought Barnaby to be stupid but not crazy or cruel. “Besides, if I can ingratiate Tulip into our group I can with anyone.”

“What does ‘en-gradiate’ mean?”

David again had to stifle a chuckle but it was not a demeaning one. On the contrary, he was beginning to enjoy the way Barnaby’s mind worked.

“It means that I want you to join our little group...as a friend.”

He held out his hand in a final gesture of goodwill, which the burly Slytherin took, cementing their new friendship in a masculine bond.

“Thank you.”

It was settled. Somehow or another, David had convinced Barnaby Lee to switch sides, a huge victory no matter which way you sliced it. It was one step closer to solving the ultimate mystery they had yet to solve.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #david grant #barnaby lee #ben copper #rowan khanna #gryffindor #slytherin #hphm mc

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kookiepleasee · 5 years

Text

Hostility.

Pairing: Yoongi x Female Reader

Genre: Tsundere, growing yandere tendencies, angst

TW: death

Summary: Being best friends and going to the same college can make Yoongi realize some things.

Yoongi closed his eyes, the music filling his ears and the empty space around him. The university’s music department was always left abandoned when final exams week rolled around, and it allowed Yoongi to finally express himself when he never could.

He opened his eyes again, focusing on the black and white keys in front of him. His fingers played so delicately on the refurbished piano. The university didn’t find a need to buy a new one, but Yoongi was content with the aged musical instrument; it had character.

He continued the motions with his fingers, his hands playing the most beautiful notes. It was a shame no one was here to hear it.

Yoongi considered joining the music department and fulfilling his dream, but he knew financial-wise it was going to get him no where.

But as he sat in front of the piano, he forgets that he almost failed statistics twice, forgets that he regrets majoring in business just to get school over with, and forgets that his mother will never be as proud as him as she is with his brother. He solely focuses on the keys being pressed, and the resounding music flowing in the spacious room.

His foot carefully calculates when to push down on the piano pedals as he closes his eyes once more, his fingers diligently working themselves.

He found solace in the way he himself created such a beautiful noise. A domino effect in which his fingers meticulously pressed onto the white keys, then on the black keys, then working his way down to the white keys again to create the music he cherished the most.

Oh, how he wishes he could live in the mountains. Alone and at peace with a piano by his side.

Never mind that, he won’t be suffocated by his overbearing mother with her expected high standards and judgements.

Then he finally remembered that he did fail statistics twice, and that he regrets majoring in business, and that his mother will always see him as substandard. He harshly bangs his hands onto the keys, the music becoming harsher and faster than what the original piece called for. Yoongi pursed his lips, his foot slamming onto the pedals. His whole body moved as his fingers worked harder than before, aggressively making the music bounce off of the walls.

Yoongi was left heaving when the piece was finished. And all that was left was him and the thoughts of failure in his mind. His hands slide away from the keys and onto his lap. His black hair covers his eyes, but he doesn’t make an effort to move them out of the way.

“That was good, kind of sloppy at the end, but good.” Yoongi jumps from the sudden voice behind him. He doesn’t turn around, finally recognizing it was you, his best friend critiquing him.

“Thanks asshole.” He gruffs out, his fingers gripping onto his shirt. He tries to act as if he just didn’t pull himself out of a self-wallowing pit of despair, but his stature was too noticeable for you.

“Who pissed you off this time?”

“No one.”

“Min Yoongi.”

“Y/N Y/L.”

“Yoongi~”

“Fuck off.”

You, his best friend; an odd label since all you both seem to do is argue, walked up behind him, your hand inching towards his shoulder.

Yoongi felt it coming, your empathetic side whenever you notice his odd behavior. He hated that he depended on your soft touches, but his exterior never allowed you to realize that he did in fact, need you.

“So are you ever going to tell me what had your panties in a twist earlier?”

“I don’t wear panties.”

“You don’t?” You smile at your own comment before swallowing down your sandwich. Yoongi glares at you before he engulfs a spoonful of his own yogurt.

“Yoongi, you know what I meant.” You become serious again, watching his eyes close in frustration.

“I am going to key your car if you don’t shut up about it.”

“Hostility is going to get you no where, you know.” You muffle out, trying your hardest to not spit out any food.

“Sure it will.” Yoongi sarcastically claims. He disregards the leftover yogurt in front of him and looks at you to make a point. His breath hitched when he saw you sat before him, bread crumbs littered across your lips and a hoodie draped over your body.

The denial that ran through Min Yoongi’s body shot through the roof as he analyzes your features. For so many years he has been able to look the other way and become the apathetic and sarcastic best friend of Y/N Y/L/N, but not today. At this very moment, in a booth tucked away in the cafè, Min Yoongi can say that Y/N was the one.

Maybe Yoongi was a bit disappointed that he finally broke his record for being able to restrain his feelings from you. His cold, apathetic exterior only being shown and nothing more.

“Hello~ Min Yoongi.” You wave of what was left of the sandwich in front his face, making him jump from the sudden realization he has been staring for far too long.

“What is it?” You ask.

“You have crumbs all over your face. Clean yourself up, hobo.”

You roll his eyes at his comment, lazily wiping the back of your hand across your lips. Yoongi continues to eat his yogurt, noticing that you were packing up your books.

“Where are you going?” Yoongi didn’t mean to sound so hopeless, and his cheeks redden in embarrassment.

“To class, idiot. You should be going to stats or you’re going to have to take it a fourth time.” You tease, “Meet me at my car so we can hangout.”

Yoongi scowls at you. Flipping you off as you turn your back to leave, he counts down the minutes until you return.

Maybe if you hadn’t invited him out to your car after class, his hands wouldn’t be shaking. Min Yoongi was a tough boy, as his mother would like to call him.

A tough boy who listens to no one, not even their mother.

But why did this tough boy have a best friend who had a heart of gold? Someone who had a future and a well rounded personality.

Maybe you were sent by the gods to shape him up- slap him into his senses.

Or maybe you were sent to show him he will never have anyone like you.

Nonetheless, Min Yoongi allowed himself to bond with you over the years. No matter the amount of stupid little arguments you two shared, Yoongi enjoyed the bickering. It was intimate, really. Being able to throw jabs at each other and laugh about it afterwards was better than just awkwardly hanging out and asking about their day.

“Where are you taking me?” He asks, rubbing his hands over his jeans to relax himself.

“To the woods to murder you, Min Yoongi.” You rasp out in an ominous voice.

“Jesus Christ.” He mutters out, suppressing the smile behind his fist. Yoongi looks out of the window, still trying to deny that he did in fact, want you.

“What the hell is this?” Yoongi questions, eyeing the modern building in front of him.

“Shut up for once and follow me.” You grab his hand, leading him to the building. Yoongi notices the overflowing people circling around the entrance waiting for their tickets to be scanned.

“Y/N what the hell did you bring me to.”

“A piano recital.” You claim, watching his ears turn red.

“Why?”

“Because... you like to play the piano? Do you not want to watch it?” Now it was your turn for your ears to turn red, embarrassed that he might’ve not liked the thought of it.

“No! I mean yes! Yes, I want to watch it.” Yoongi stumbles over his words.

Honestly, Yoongi couldn’t care less about the piano recital, but since you had thought of him-

you thought of him. You went out of your way to bring him here.

“Did you like it?”

“You could tell his fingers were stiff. Mediocre.”

“Yoongi, that’s rude.”

“It’s not rude if I am simply criticizing.”

You swing the car keys with your hand as you two walk back to the car. The concert was boring, but you managed to keep your eyes open.

Unlike you, Yoongi stared at the artist on stage, engrossed by the music.

“What do you think he thinks about when he plays the piano.” Yoongi randomly asks. You look up from your textbook, confused for a moment.

“The pianist from yesterday’s concert? The hell would I know? What do you think when you play?”

Yoongi shrugs from your question, regretting he had asked in the first place. You wouldn’t understand. Returning his sight on his laptop screen, it had looked like he was reading something important, but he was disassociating. Wondering if the pianist too forgot about his worries, as if there was nothing else in the world. Just him and his piano.

You also wouldn’t understand that his feelings has grown for you. Every splitting second wondering about your whereabouts, who you were with, if you had eaten already. Maybe you would, but Yoongi couldn’t stand the rejection. He’d throw himself out of the window out of embarrassment.

“Let’s hangout after class.”

“No.”

This was new to you. Yoongi refusing your little adventures. You tilt your head, awaiting for his smile and telling you he was just kidding, but he never did.

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing. I just don’t want to hang out.” “...Okay.”

You look at him for a bit longer hoping he’d throw an insult and say sike! but Yoongi remained in his spot, unmoved.

You were tired of Yoongi being dismissive. How can he just disregard you? After being friends with him since highschool, he couldn’t just throw you away, can he?

“Yoongi. It has been days since you have insulted me or hung out with me for that matter. What is up your ass?” You stomped up to his dorm and spoke your mind once he had opened his door.

“Nothing is up my ass.” He mumbles, turning around and leaving the door open for you to enter.

“Jesus christ, this place is a dump.” You kick around a pair of shorts on the floor.

“Then leave.”

“Yoongi, stop being a big baby.”

“Leave.”

It was no longer an option but more of a demand.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” You ask.

What the hell has gotten into him? Yoongi could ask himself the same question. He can’t even carry out simple daily tasks without thinking about you. Denial is what has been making Yoongi get out of bed and go to class. If he had succumbed to his thoughts, he would be closed off in his dorm, wishing about you.

You would never understand if he had explained, so he instead ignores your question and plops himself onto his bed.

His roommate is gone, which only left you two and a shut door. Yoongi closes his eyes in disgust. How could he have these heinous thoughts about you?

Yoongi could take you here in his dorm room, on his bed, blessing the sheets.

His eyes open once more when he hears the door slam shut. You had left.

Maybe Yoongi would have gotten over you if it hadn’t been for the fact that you were the only thing on his mind now. He had no interest on playing the piano anymore, because when he did try to play, he was too focused on the keys when he rather could be focused on you.

Yoongi thinks thats when the cord snaps. Realizing this pit of regret was eating him up. Maybe he was right, god had sent you just to rub it in his face that he’ll never have anyone like you.

But he will.

He pounds on your dorm door this time, his fingers fiddling with each other as he hears the doorknob wobble.

Your face appears from behind the wooden door, and a frown is instantly found on your lips.

“Yoongi.”

“Listen-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You were being a dick.” Before you could close the door, Yoongi shoves his foot between it. With his limb now in the way of you being left alone, you glare at the boy in front of you.

“Can’t you just listen to me?”

“Like how you listened to me when I went to your dorm?” You spit, annoyed that he had the audacity to even ask you that.

You expected him to stare at you with his soulless eyes and walk away and sulk about it for a week and come back to you as if nothing had happened. (Like he always does)

What you had not expected was the door to fling open as Yoongi slams his palms onto it.

“Yoongi what the fuck!”

“You’re going to listen to me.” He demands. His body mere inches away from yours.

“You- you have been infecting me. You did something to me and I don’t like it at all. I feel things- things I have never felt before for you. I’ve been trying to wash away these feelings but holy shit Y/N, I can’t. I love you.”

"Yoongi...you’re my best friend.” The boy shuts his eyes in frustration and purses his lips. So fucking what if they were best friends? Your voice makes him focus on you. “Also, I’ve been talking to someone.” You look at your feet, too afraid to be so close to him.

“What- what do you mean talking?”

“Kim Seokjin, the senior in our class-”

“Kim Seokjin? That narcissistic asshole?”

Yoongi could never stomach the thought of physically hurting someone, but here was, repeatedly thrashing a wrench onto ‘the Kim Seokjin’s’ face.

“I had confessed my feelings to her and she told me she had eyes for you. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

He continues his assault in the senior’s dorm room.

“-how fucking embarrassing it is to be rejected?”

The senior had no words as he was unconscious and blood was pouring out of his mouth. Yoongi was nervous as hell when he entered the boys room without warning, earning Kim Seokjin to jump from his desk chair. He stayed quiet as the senior repeatedly asked him what the hell he was doing before the iron clashed into his temple.

“Just you fucking wait, she will never set her eyes on you ever again.”

Yoongi heaved as he saw the mess he had made in the now dirty bedroom. He looks around to see how he could clean it up, but opts to just drop the wrench into the sink and allow the water to flow from the faucet. He washes the tool, noticing that he finally did something right.

“You were so ignorant when you had said hostility gets you no where. Look where I am now- winning.” Yoongi says out loud in the empty room, a dead body now laying a few feet away from him.

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serzhantkris · 4 years

Text

Something Worth Fighting For- 15

Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice. Third installment of the Worth Fighting For Series.

Words: 1170

AN: TWICE IN ONE WEEK?!? And yeah, okay, I know the gif is from endgame. But i needed this. Oh, and there’s a bit of smut but nothing too... smutty.

Part 14 Masterlist

Sunflowers reach toward the rising sun, petals shining golden as the first rays of daylight kiss the land. The morning dew drips down their stems and into the earth, feeding the lush greenlands that spread for miles toward the horizon. The water reflects the painted sky, rippling quietly as fish nibble at the surface. Beyond the lake, the grass is untouched by man. It waves in the light breeze, brushing against the legs of the rhinos that graze on the hills.

It’s quiet, here, and Steve thinks it’s the most beautiful place he’s ever seen.

He stops next to Bucky, inhaling the scent of the water and forests around them. Steve stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket, glancing back over his shoulder. The city is shielded from here, a ghost to the naked eye.

“So you’re finally putting a ring on it.” Steve bumps his shoulder into Bucky’s, grinning. “You’ve only been engaged, what, seventy years?”

Both men chuckle, the wind dragging through their hair, pulling the tall grass in their direction.

“Pretty nice place to do it,” Steve nods, looking to the mountains that rise in the south.

“Y/N’s getting sick of the bleach smell, I think.”

In the distance, the rhinos call as long shadows stretch over the plains. The sky melts from orange to blue. “You’re sure about going under tomorrow?”

Bucky inhales deeply, his chest tight. “It’s the only way to move forward.”

Steve looks at Bucky, for the first time that morning, his brows tugged together. Bucky’s eyes are trained on the sunflowers, a somber look on his face. “You worried about her?”

Bucky snorts, shaking his head. “She’s tough. And she’ll be too busy keeping you out of trouble to worry about me.”

Steve laughs, and the sound of rustling behind them causes them both to turn over their shoulders. Shuri, T’Challa, and Ramona start down the side of a hill, their faces smiling. Bucky stiffens as Steve moves closer, pulling his hands out of his jacket. T’challa claps a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, standing between him and the water with a book in his other hand.

You come last, rising over the hill brighter than the sun.

James Barnes was twenty-six when he fell in love with you. He didn’t know your real name yet, didn’t know what the future had in store for the both of you. He was young, and the world was much wider than he ever dreamed it could be. All he knew was that he needed you to be a part of it. He didn’t know back then how many times he would lose you, how many times he would be lost. How many wars you would fight, how many you would lose. And now, here you were standing in front of him, the most beautiful woman the world had ever seen- it was a miracle that you were here at all, and when you reached out and took his hand, the fact hit him full force, and he forgot how to breathe.

“Bucky,” your voice sank through the fog in his mind, pulled him from the river he thought he was drowning in. “You okay?”

He swallowed, nodding, because if he said anything he was liable to weep.

You gripped Bucky’s hands, like he might be torn away at any moment, knuckles turning white as T’challa spoke. Every word faded into the wind, lost to the beating of your heart, to the blue eyes looking back at you. Nothing anyone could say- T’challa or Steve or any of the seven billion other people in the world- could match the way he looked at you in this moment.

The sun climbed into the sky, hanging over their heads as a silent witness. There was not a cloud in the sky, not a drop of rain or beat of thunder. And for once in their lives, they were nothing but happy.

Bucky looked at his wife, memorizing the shape of her lips as she smiled, the flutter of her lashes as they caught joyful tears. The image of the lace on her bodice and the way her hands curled around his as they kissed was locked deep in his subconscious, tucked neatly between the way she tasted like sugar and the cool touch of her ring on his cheek as she cupped his face.

There was no telling how long it would be before he saw that smile and felt her warm, comforting kiss again. He kept it, where the dog tags hung low around his neck on a chain with a black, vibranium ring dangling beside his heart- the place he kept everything that would give him dreams while he waited for the day he would be with her again.

The stars twinkled outside the open window, the soft breeze making the curtains dance along the floor. The cold air gives rise to goosebumps on your skin. A soft sigh escapes your lips and Bucky’s arm around your waist tightens, pulling your back harder against his chest.

“It’s late.” Your voice is but a whisper, and Bucky hums to himself in response. His fingers toy with the ring around your finger, the vibranium acting almost like a magnet to his metal hand. “The sun will be up soon.”

“I’ll have plenty of time to sleep tomorrow,” he says.

Tomorrow.

Bucky’s head dipped down, placing an open kiss on your shoulder. It sent shivers over your flesh, the hairs on your arms raising. One after the other, his lips left kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach. His stubble tickles your neck, and his hands gripped your waist and pulled you down as he slid out from behind you.

The blankets pulled down, exposing your body to the cold air as he crawled onto his knees, hovering over you as he kissed his way over your body. He’d kissed you a thousand times already tonight, and he’d kiss you a thousand more before the sun peeked through the curtains.

Bucky was heavy, his hips pressed against yours, erection growing as your hands grazed over his chest. You’d had your hands on him all night, tracing the etches on his abs, the curves of his muscles, the softness of his lips. But it never ceases to get a rise out of him, never stops the groan from rumbling in his chest when your legs wrap around him and pull him into you. His body moves like the ocean and burns like fire, every movement leaving its mark on you forever.

He reaches between you, fingers curling inside you like he’s opening the sky- pulling the stars down into your eyes. You throw your head back and see the moon, hanging by a string outside your window. His breath freezes the sweat on your chest; his hair feels like silk between your fingers. The stars shine brighter when he moans in your ear, and when he comes, the brightest star streaks across the sky.

Tags Open

@sallyp-53 @cloverrover @yknott81 @feelmyroarrrr @ipaintmelodies @lostinspace33 @nuvoleincielo @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @creideamhgradochas

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Internal Disputes ch.6 (baon)

Summary: Something strange is afoot. Edge isn’t sure what, but he can guess he isn’t going to like it.

Notes: Here we go, last chapter. Who's up for a little easing of that ongoing angst, yeah? Add some more comfort to that hurt.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch didn’t know when Red left them. Truth was, he didn’t even remember falling asleep; one moment he was laying in Red’s lap and the next thing he knew he was waking up to a firm knock at the front door.

Snugged up almost on top of him, Jeff stirred, blinking sleepily as he sat up and there was no telling how long they’d slept curled up together on the sofa like a coupla lonely oversized hamsters, but it must’ve been a while because the light outside was coming in through the opposite windows.

That firm knock came again on the front door, shit, and Stretch untangled himself from Jeff and started shambling over.

“Wait, let me get it!” Jeff tried to scramble past him and for a second, Stretch didn’t get it. Until he did, and he could only shake his head in weary exasperation. This was what he got for letting Jeff go work at the Embassy with Red and Edge, he should’ve gotten him a job at the Bun Bakery where superhero tendencies didn’t go much further than rescuing cinnamon bunnies.

“don’t you start with the overprotective bullshit, andy,” Stretch caught the tail of his shirt and yanked him back, ignoring his yelp. “the door has a peephole and i’ll look, but my guess is ninja assassins don’t generally knock.”

Jeff nodded sheepishly, but he still crowded in close as Stretch checked out the front porch. It was a Monster that Stretch didn’t know, the curling tentacles that made up their ‘hair’ pulled back into a neat ponytail, but they were dressed in the same generic suit that all of Asgore’s personal bodyguards wore, so it wasn’t much of Jeopardy question to guess who sent ‘em. Last Gyftmas, he’d sent them all Ray-ban sunglasses, and gotten a politely worded ‘thank you’ letter back. He still wondered sometimes if they’d gotten the joke.

It couldn’t be bad or Asgore would have come himself. Even if Stretch had been a dick to him earlier, he would have—Stretch opened the door a little, poking his skull out, “yeah?”

“Good afternoon,” they began formally, in a calm, fluting voice, “apologies for disturbing you, I’m sure you’re busy--”

“can we cut to the part of the speech where you tell me what you want?” Stretch interrupted tiredly, “because if you’re selling vacuums, i’m not interested. i’ve been having a hell of a day, and i’m not up for giving a golf clap for the effort.”

The Monster only nodded, and that bland expression shifted to faint sympathy. “Yes, of course. I came to tell you that the Ambassadors’ plane will be landing in about an hour and if you’d like to accompany me to the airport, you can meet them there.”

“seriously?” They must’ve taken off the moment he and Tori got off the phone to get back home so fast and Stretch wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Tori said they were all okay, but wouldn’t the authorities want them to hang around for a while after an incident? That was the vibe he always got about police bullshit, unless…unless they needed to get back to Ebott because this was where they kept the Monster hospital. Or maybe it wasn’t safe to stay, that could be it, right? He didn’t know, could keep guessing all day but the Monster in front of him was waiting for his answer with a bland smile that didn’t reveal shit.

Anxiety was churning inside him, not much he could do about that, but maybe it was time to channel a little Edgy-calm. He’d been living with Edge for a while, and this wasn’t exactly the way he’d imagined trying out a little roleplaying, but fuck it, worth a try.

If it was Edge here, he wouldn’t go borrowing trouble; he’d head over to the airport and wait patiently to see what the fuck was going on.

Patience might be asking a bit much of his acting skills, heading over to the airport wasn’t. He’d never been to the airport himself, there wasn’t much point. All those movies that showed happy couples meeting at the gate with flowers and kisses were a load of bullshit as far as Stretch knew. All that shit was on the other side of the security checkpoints these days and Edge always told him he preferred to come home and get his kisses there rather than down at the basement levels, surrounded by grouchy travelers in the dirty baggage claim.

He thought Edge might be proud of the way he nodded and said evenly, “yeah, i’ll come.”

The Monster nodded placidly. “I can take you now, if you like. It’s already been cleared through Security.”

Which meant Red was doing the voodoo that he do so well and thought it was safe enough. Good to know. Stretch glanced down at himself and grimaced. His clothes were made up of about 75% wrinkles and 25% moldering grape juice, not exactly the best reunion outfit.

“let me change real quick?” Stretch asked. They nodded and made no move to come in, so he closed the door. Only to nearly walk right over Jeff, who’d been practically plastered to his back the whole time.

“I’m coming with you,” Jeff said stoutly. Even with everything running down the tubes around him, Stretch couldn’t help smiling a little. Jeff wasn’t a big guy and he looked about as fierce as one of those little weenie dogs, but Stretch would bet his favorite lighter that nothing was gonna pry him away, certainly not one of Asgore’s goons. Kid was loyal and that was a fact.

“i wouldn’t even try to leave you behind, handy andy,” Stretch told him sincerely. He waited until Jeff nodded and then shortcutted upstairs directly into the closet, not even bothering to try the stairs. The sleep helped but his soul still felt raw and bruised, aching faintly in his ribcage. That meant everything else ached too, and as comforting as sleeping next to Jeff was, the sofa wasn’t really great for extended cuddling.

Eh, but he might’ve been weird about it if Stretch suggested going upstairs to the bed. Humans were awkward about that shit, and Jeff might’ve agreed just to make Stretch happy. Better to stick with what he knew wouldn’t wig out his best bud.

As he pulled on a fresh sweatshirt, he wondered glumly if he’d be taking another trip to visit Alphys’s lab for a deeper peek at his soul. That his visits to the therapist would be going back to twice a week for a while wasn’t even a question, but he didn’t much want to think about it right now. Now, all he really wanted was to see Edge. Tori’s reassurances were nice and all, but he wasn’t going to believe it until he had that asshole in his arms.

When he came downstairs, Jeff was attempting to clean up the stains the grapes left on the carpet when Stretch dropped the bowl. He wasn’t making much progress, the faded purple splotches looked like a Rorschach test. Butterfly, Stretch decided, but Edge would probably only see a dirty mess.

“I put the grapes in the fridge, they seem okay, but I don’t think this is going to come out,” Jeff said apologetically.

Edge was gonna have a fit but that’s what happened when you ditched on your anniversary and almost got blown up for fuck knows why. Only the darkest humor lurking in Stretch thought that little joke was funny, but hey, he was a tough crowd for himself today.

“don’t worry about it,” Stretch told him, helping him to his feet. “edge probably has a secret formula to shout it out.” And if thinking about Edge grumbling while he scrubbed the stain made a flare of affection rise in his soul, welp, that was probably only a sign of what an idiot in love he was.

The car was sleek and black, one of those fancy ones with a glass partition in between the back and front seats. There was a mini-fridge and lots of buttons, and normally Stretch would have made it a mission to push every single one of them because one of them had to be an eject button, had to be.

Today he buckled up and let his head drop back against the rich Corinthian leather seats. He was still tired and the only food he’d had today was less than a handful of grapes. Edge would have a fit if he knew, he would be in the kitchen in a flash to stir something up, bitching at him the whole time that it wasn’t good to go without meals and could he go for five minutes not thinking about Edge, it wasn’t fucking helping and--

“andy?” Stretch said, low.

Jeff, who’d been exploring the buttons that Stretch ignored, jerked guiltily. “Yeah?”

That anxiety was rising, clenching in his chest and making it hard to breathe, “can you talk to me?”

“Um. Sure,” he bit his lip, considering, “About what?”

“anything,” Stretch swallowed down the pleading that tried to leak out, “make my mind shut up for a little while.”

A warm human hand settled over his own, squeezing gently. “I can do that. Okay, check this out, back when I worked at Classic Books, we had this guy who would come in every once in a while. He was a little odd, but a nice guy, and he’d usually hang for a while to chat. Anyway, this time he comes in and--”

Stretch closed his sockets and listened as Jeff rambled on about the grueling adventures of retail customer service, telling him about the guy who’d dreamed about a book and thought somehow Jeff should be able to find it.

Before he could find out how the quest for ‘the blue book with gold writing about Jesus riding dinosaurs’ ended, he felt the change of speed from the car leaving the expressway. The airport was right off the ramp, but they didn’t go through the main loop where Delta and American Airlines hunkered and instead, they were directed to a hanger off to the side.

He wasn’t really surprised. Money talked, sure, that was part of it, but for reasons of sheer practicality the Ambassadors always took a private jet. Not like many of them were going to fit in coach and even first class would be asking a bit much of Papyrus and Edge’s knees, along with Toriel’s girth.

The car pulled up in front of a single building off to the side that looked brand-spanking new. When Generic Driver and Bodyguard led them to the door where two of his huge brethren stood with unsmiling solemnness, it proved to be comfortably warm inside, with furniture that included a table set up with coffee machine and a plate of sandwiches in plastic wrap. One of the squashy chairs held Asgore, who was still dressed in his weekend casual. He was holding a coffee cup that looked comically small in his large hands. Red was sprawled out on a sofa and he gave the two of them a mocking little salute as they came in.

“c’mon in, join the party. get something to eat, honey bun,” Red called, “came right from the embassy cafeteria, it’s good stuff.”

“from the embassy cafeteria?” Stretch grimaced. He’d eaten there a couple of times and if he’d been allowed to review it on his twitter, it would have gotten a 5 on the barf scale. “you sure it isn’t poisoned?”

“The food quality has greatly increased since Edge hired Hussain to take over leadership,” Asgore said quietly. He didn’t look up from his coffee cup, probably afraid Stretch was gonna spit in his face, but his anger of this morning seemed distant as a fading dream.

“hussain? from the beanery?” Stretch poked one sandwich with a long finger even as Jeff inspected the supposedly-tasty largess hungrily. “edge didn’t tell me he did that.”

He’d noticed Hussain’s absence at the Beanery, but only in the periphery, vaguely assuming it was his day off or maybe he had class. No one else mentioned it to him, either, probably thought he already knew. Why hadn’t Edge told him—

Red only snorted, interrupting his unraveling thoughts, “he prolly forgot, he don’t have time to tell you all the shit he does. quit fussing and eat a sandwich, brat.”

Not the worst advice he’d had today. He grabbed a random one and took a seat on the empty sofa. It turned out to be some kind of curried salad. Pretty good, but his magic seemed reluctant to incorporate it, letting each chewed bite sit for too long until he was close to choking. He managed to gag down about half, ignoring Red’s beady look. Next to him, Jeff scarfed down his own and when Stretch handed over his leftovers, he took it without question. At least someone should get a decent meal.

Asgore didn’t look like he was going to take on that role. He only sat with his too-small coffee cup, staring into the depths of it without taking so much as a sip.

The room was so painfully quiet, Stretch wished there was a radio or a television or a fucking mariachi band. Anything so he didn’t have to sit here in this smothering silence. A quick check of his phone showed there wasn’t a single message or missed call, definitely not his normal. He suspected that a little gremlin somewhere was holding back his messages, but all Stretch could work up about that was reluctant gratitude. Let the frantic texts and well wishes come later when he could better deal with it.

He hesitated over the twitter app and decided not to open it yet, tucking his phone back away.

No one spoke, all of them surrounded in a choking hush only broken by a sofa creaking whenever someone moved or the occasional shuffle of a shoe. Waiting was not one of Stretch’s strengths, coupled with his lack of patience and his feeble endurance and half those noises were from him squirming around.

The furniture was probably perfectly comfortable in reality, but to Stretch it was about as cozy as sitting on freshly hardened cement. He shifted, crossing and uncrossing his legs, picking at his shoelaces and wishing he’d thought to grab the pack of smokes Andy gave him earlier. Smoking was the best timewaster he’d ever had to miss, and his magic was pleading for a nicotine fix.

That Asgore was sitting right there made it impossible not to look at him, not unless Stretch wanted to close his sockets like a toddler, tempting as that was. Every involuntary glance revealed tired unhappiness tempered with worry, and it wasn’t a king

(murderer)

sitting in this little waiting room, nothing of the cheery, dignified ruler. This was someone whose ex-wife and kid were nearly killed, someone worrying about friends and family, and Stretch was unfortunately very familiar with that.

The muted, aching hurt in his own soul wanted to reach out, to offer what comfort it could, and finally, Stretch gave in and did. Because he knew would make Edge happy.

“i talked to tori,” Stretch said, slowly. He didn’t have his lighter, nothing to fidget with and instead kept his eyes on his hands, picking at his knuckles. “she said everyone is okay.”

Out of the corner of his socket, he saw Asgore nodding slowly. “I haven’t spoken to her directly, but all the information we have thus far is clear that there were some injuries, but nothing critical.”

Critical was a horrible word and as soon as he could, Stretch was starting a twitter campaign to have it ripped out of the dictionary.

“do we...i mean…” His fingertip slipped and dug in too hard against his knuckle, sending a sprinkle of dust into his lap. Next to him, Jeff made a soft, stifled sound of dismay and reached over to take his hand, stilling him. Giving in to those overprotective instincts he was starting to take on, but Stretch let him, ignoring the tiny throb in his finger. “do you know what really happened yet?”

“not yet,” Red interrupted, all laconic ease as if the coiled tension in him wasn’t practically dripping from him like a leaky faucet. “got ‘em all on radio silence until they get back. right now, looks like just your basic monster hater attack that got lucky, but it ain’t nothing that’s been even a blip on our radar. i don’t like that shit, but the useful info is low to the ground yet.”

“yeah, sure,” Stretch muttered unhappily, “i get it, i don’t have clearance.”

A sharp kick against his shin made him yelp and Stretch jerked up to stare at Red in disbelief, who only glared back. “as soon as i know what happened, you’ll know,” Red said bluntly, “you deserve that. and if my bro doesn’t tell you, i’ll do it myself.”

“i…okay,” Stretch stuttered out. Asgore made no protest of that, only took a sip from his probably ice-cold coffee.

Red relaxed back against the sofa cushions. “for right now, we’re keeping communication on the down low until i can talk to everyone face to face. they’re out of range of monster cell towers and i ain’t taking any chance of anyone listening in.”

That made sense, it did, but some part of him still didn’t believe that Red of all people didn’t have an inkling of what happened. Or maybe it was too frightening to think it, Red knew everything, he was The Spy, and he only needed an eye patch over his cracked socket to cosplay as Nick Fury. That and a hovering base of operations, maybe Sans could get on that—

The muted roar of an engine interrupted that rambling thought and as one they turned towards it.

“They’re here,” Asgore shifted his weight, starting to stand, but Stretch was already on his feet, shortcutting outside to watch the plane taxiing towards them.

It seemed to take forever and if he’d ever taken a gander at the inside of that plane, Stretch would’ve shortcutted inside, fuck security protocol. He didn’t know how Red was resisting the urge. But he stood next to Stretch, impassive as ever as they waited while a crew of Humans wheeled a ramp up to the door and it finally opened.

The first one off the plane was Blue, and Stretch’s soul skipped a beat as his brother never hesitated, running down the ramp directly towards him as he cried, “Papy!”

Catching him as he flung himself at Stretch was automatic, the same as he’d done a hundred times before in Underswap and all the wrenching emotions Stretch had been bottling up since Red showed up in his living room that morning finally slipped its cork. Drowning in a crushing wave of guilt and relief, he hugged Blue desperately tight, burying his face into his shoulder and breathing him in.

“hey, bro,” Stretch whispered hoarsely. His arms ached from the force of his grip, holding Blue as he’d never been able to after the resets, never able to show him the depths of his grief. Blue didn’t so much as squirm in protest, clinging just as tightly. His suit was rumpled, his tie missing, and he smelled like smoke mingled with the burnt sickly-sweet remnants that came from straining magic to its limits. “don’t do that to me again, okay?”

“I never meant to do it the first time,” Blue choked out. He drew back, Stretch reluctantly letting him lean away, and his smile was tremulous. There were dark shadows beneath his sockets where none had ever been, like a week’s worth of lost sleep, but not quite. Bruises, Stretch realized with shivering horror, Blue had the skeletal equivalent of two black eyes, but the soft blue-yellow lights within were shining stars, “Come on, Edge should be next. I know you want to see him.”

Heavy guilt filled him, followed by a ghostly memory of his brother weeping that he missed him, was it possible that was only a couple days ago? But Blue only squirmed down from his arms and pulled him over to the ramp, his warm smile nothing but sincere.

A back appeared first, not Edge’s but a Monster that Stretch vaguely recognized as part of the entourage. He was guiding a gurney down the ramp and Stretch could only watch mutely as it was carefully brought down from the plane. There was an IV bag hanging from a short pole, glowing softly, and the occupant became clear as the battered curve of a skull came into view.

He barely noticed Asgore and his guards skirting around them to go up the ramp into the plane. All that freed emotion from seeing his brother coagulated in his chest in a dense, frozen ball.

Distantly, Stretch could only think that Edge looked so impossibly small. Edge was only a little shorter than him, but he always seemed like this larger than life presence, one that Stretch could tuck himself into and trust to keep him safe, not only from the world but from the demons in his own mind.

To see him like this, so very still and buried in blankets with wide straps over the gurney to keep him secure. His hands were on top of the covers, bare and battered, there was even a spot that looked a bit charred, but Tori was right about one thing, there were no new cracks. Only plenty of darkly mottled bruises and scrapes surrounding his closed sockets, awful and undeniable. A wild, impossible impulse rose up in Stretch, to grab hold of Edge and shortcut off with him, to take him far away from everything, to keep him safe. Stupid, useless urge, but for one brief moment it was overwhelming.

Fuck, if that was how Edge felt all the time, no wonder he could be an overprotective prick.

Blue took his hand and Stretch startled so badly he nearly jerked away. But his brother only held on, squeezing gently. “I know, he looks a little worse for the wear, but I promise you, it’s nothing serious. The ambulance should be here soon to take you both to the hospital and--”

“hospital?” Stretch repeated thinly. “but you said…”

“Yes, hospital,” Blue said firmly. “He’ll be fine, but he was injured. I did what I could and Toriel is a skilled healer in her own right. He still needs to be checked over and they should at least keep him overnight.”

Okay. Okay, yeah, that sounded right and Stretch nodded dumbly. Maybe the change in atmosphere was registering because Edge stirred, shifting against the straps. His sockets opened, his eye lights wide and diffused, filling his sockets with swirling crimson. For a moment all Edge did was blink, looking all around him before focusing on Stretch.

Stretch smiled and managed a weak, “hey, babe.”

As he watched, that bleary confusion abruptly turned into a happily beaming smile, which only ranked at about the third most disturbing thing that had happened that day.

“Hiiiii!!” Edge exclaimed with loud glee.

Uh. Maybe Blue was wrong about how serious his injuries were.

“Ah, yes, he was hurting quite a bit and being stubborn about it,” Blue said dryly. “We may have slightly overdone the pain relief. Enjoy it while you can, I’m going to check that the ambulance is on its way.”

“wait, what??”

But Blue was already trotting off, stopping to grab Jeff who was standing awkwardly back and dragging him along, his chatter fading away.

Edge was still grinning with unsettling cheer. On his usually stern face it was like the beginnings of a nightmare and Stretch almost expected maniacal clowns to start crawling out of manholes and portacabins around them. Fuck it, that might make it less weird, at least then all this would make sense.

“I know you!” Edge went on happily, one hand reaching out towards him. Then his brow furrowed in battered confusion, his hand falling to hang limply off the gurney’s side. “Do I know you? You’re pretty.”

Smooth fucker, wasn't he. Very carefully, Stretch took his hand, gentle with those scuffed, bruised fingers. “you know me okay. i’m your husband, yeah?”

He brightened like a light bulb, practically glowing from within with soul-deep delight. A well drugged light bulb and he latched on to Stretch eagerly, his grip bordering on feverish. “My husband? That means I get to keep you!”

If anyone was stupid enough to ask, Stretch wouldn’t even be able to begin describing how he felt about everything right about now. All his emotions were in wild conflict, battering against each other for dominance. But fuck if he could hold back from that. He grinned, helplessly, rubbing his thumb over Edge’s somewhat tarnished wedding band. "sure does."

“Sans!” Edge shouted suddenly, loud enough to make Stretch wince, but when he automatically tried to take a step back, Edge’s grip held like Velcro, weirdly loose and still implacable.

Red stepped up next to the gurney, hands tucked into his pockets. “right here, bro.”

Even with being strapped down, Edge still managed to lift his head enough to look down at his brother and say gleefully, “You see my husband?”

“seen him a time or two, yeah,” Red said. For the first time that day the clouded grimness that surrounded him seemed to lift a fraction and his permanent grin widened.

“I get to keep him!”

“sure do,” Red agreed, “no catch and release on husbands.”

Edge flumped back on the gurney hard enough to make Stretch wince even as he sang out enthusiastically, “He’s reeeeeeally pretty. Isn’t he pretty?”

“uh huh, he ain’t bad.” Red gave him a leering look and Stretch felt a hot flush crawl across his cheekbones, glaring back. Not that he’d ever doubted Edge thought that, but it was always nice to hear. Kinda.

Edge scowled at Red comically, holy fuck, that much expression on Edge’s face? He was going to give himself a new crack if this kept up.

“You’re just jealous,” he grumped, holding on tight to Stretch’s hand as if he thought Red might try to scoop him up and head for the hills to start up a new horrifying chapter in the mocking fairytale that was this day.

“must be,” Red agreed, an odd note to his voice, but Edge ignored that, cheering again quickly.

“Mine!” Edge said happily and before Stretch could puzzle through any of that exchange, he was busy squawking as he was abruptly yanked onto the gurney.

“woah, hang on, handsome!” Stretch tried to squirm away, but whoever’d had the foresight to buckle Edge down should’ve included his arms in the deal. Despite the good drugs and the visible bruises, he was pretty damn strong and clinging to Stretch like living duct tape.

“Mine, mine, mine,” Edge chanted like some kind of musical, maniacal supervillain and where the fuck had everyone else gone? They didn’t need a damn parade to get an ambulance. Red was only watching with great interest, picking idly at his gold tooth.

“a little help here?” Stretch yelped as Edge started nuzzling happily at his collarbone. Okay, it was a little tempting, but for crying out loud, Frisk and Toriel could be getting off the plane anytime now and who knew what high zoom lenses were out there getting a frontpage picture for the gossip rags. No assistance was coming from the outside avenues, so Stretch went for the ‘hail, mary’ pass and tried coaxing Edge, instead, “come on, babe, you gotta let go now.”

“No!” Edge sulked, and fuck if that petulant sullenness wasn’t incredibly damn adorable coming out in his deep, raspy voice, “You said I get to keep you.”

“you do, promise, i’m all yours. but—" Just then Edge found the bottom of his sweatshirt, warm, clumsy hands suddenly petting his ribcage and Stretch’s squeal took on a panicked note. “damn it, red!”

“me? i ain’t doing nothing.” His glee nearly matched Edge’s, that asshole.

“that’s part of the problem, you shit! he’s gonna hurt himself!”

“hurt himself?” Red scoffed. “you could take off one of his arms and use it as a tennis racket and he wouldn’t notice right now.”

“that isn’t helping!”

“never said it was, honey bun.”

Most of his face was buried into Edge’s chest but the little he could see through blankets and bone made Stretch snap out in disbelief, “are you recording this??”

“fuck, yeah, i am. this shit needs to be in high definition.”

“he’ll kill you!” Stretch tried to sound threatening, but it wasn’t exactly easy with Edge’s unusually graceless but eagerly insistent fingers trailing over his hipbones. The combination was unfortunately arousing and if he popped a boner while Red was recording, someone was gonna pay. Probably him, in horrifying shame. “i’ll kill you!”

Red did not sound properly threatened, considering that he only chuckled out, “gotta get loose first.”

It turned out to be a grateful moot point. Before he could figure out how to get loose from the wild groper his husband became under the influence, those hands slowed, going lax. By the time Stretch was able wriggle free little, Edge was out like a light, already snoring faintly.

But the moment he tried to climb off the gurney, that grip tightened again and Edge mumbling out a complaining grunt. Stretch gave up and sank down, hey, a wee little base humiliation wasn’t gonna dust him. Just so long as they kept away from dying shame, he’d manage.

But he did whip around to glare at Red’s grinning face, demanding, “delete it.”

Not like his threats would penetrate Red’s elephant hide, only rolled off like so much baby oil. “nah, don’t think so, this is for my private collection.” His glee turned pensive. “you know, i don’t have much from the old days but i do have a thing or two. maybe a few old pictures and shit.” He paused, adding with a certain slyness, “might have some pics of the boss here as a baby bones hidden away someplace.”

Yeah, Stretch knew when he was beat. “i will pay any price.”

“that’s what i like to hear.”

Just then, he heard the ambulance pulling up, fuck, finally! The back doors opened and Blue climbed out, the attendants at his heels, “All right, let’s get Edge loaded--Papy!” Blue scolded, “He’s injured, you shouldn’t be letting him exert himself!”

Stretch only grinned wryly. “sorry, bro. he, uh, didn’t give me much choice.”

Blue harrumphed, but he didn’t demand that Stretch get down, which probably cost his full allotment of sympathy points. Worth it. “You two are going ahead and we’ll be behind you in the second ambulance.”

“second?” That made him sit up despite Edge’s murmured complaint, “who else was hurt?”

Blue’s smile turned fixed even as the paramedics bustled around them. “I’m not supposed to say too much, yet, but.” His voice softened, hardly above a whisper, “I don’t know how Edge knew. We were hardly off the plane and they’d sent a car to pick us up. There must have been something he saw or felt, because he turned back to us and…and then…” He swallowed hard, the luminescent shine of tears limning his sockets. “He shielded Toriel and Frisk, and Papyrus shielded me and Sans. He did the best he could, but he…Papyrus was hurt, Papy.”

“fuck,” Stretch whispered, horrified, “papyrus, is he—"

“He’s fine,” Blue said firmly. “He was resting comfortably the whole flight. Sans is with him right now and we’ll get him to the hospital, too.”

It sounded like he was hurt worse than Edge, shit, shit, “he should’ve come out first!”

“Sans told us to take Edge,” Blue followed along as the gurney started moving, the attendants pushing it along. “Papyrus is asleep and perfectly stable. He was already with his brother and Sans said you’d need to see us.”

Fuck, but he owed Sans a very big favor.

It was only as they were loaded in that Stretch realized Red was gone. He wasn’t in the front seat and didn’t climb in before the doors closed. Then there wasn’t time to worry about that as the ambulance pulled away and Stretch only settled down next to Edge, holding on with as much gentleness as he could muster.

The ambulance attendants were both Monsters and quietly competent, neither suggesting that maybe Stretch could ride along on one of the cushioned seats. Good thing, because Stretch wasn’t going anyplace without extensive use of a crowbar.

He didn’t budge until they got to the hospital and only then did he reluctantly detangle himself from Edge. The docs took some time to look Edge over, peeling back the blankets and Stretch could only wince at the sight of a neat splint on one of Edge’s leg, at bruises scattered over his battered bones. But they only confirmed what Stretch already knew. Toriel and Blue had healed Edge as much as they could, probably too much for their own good considering Blue’s bruises and exhaustion.

Rest and time was what he needed now and that didn’t need a prescription.

Edge never really woke up again, drowsily groping for Stretch whenever he roused, but for once Stretch kept back, letting the doctors do their thing. They finished quick enough, writing on their clipboards and offering reassuring smiles as they left.

Exhausted as he was, Stretch resisted the urge to crawl right back in next to Edge. He felt like a sticky, filthy mess and a quick shower sounded like a lemon slice of heaven right now. At least the room had a very nicely appointed shower, though he didn’t linger, washing up quickly and snagging a set of the hospital issue jammies from the bathroom cubby.

He kicked his clothes under the sink, those could be a problem for Tomorrow Stretch. But he only opened the door a crack before freezing as he caught sight of someone else at the bedside.

Red was standing next to his brother, watching him sleep. His back was to the bathroom door so Stretch couldn’t see face, only the weary slump of his shoulders. As he watched, Red reached over and picked up one of Edge’s hands with tenderness Stretch never suspected Red possessed, inspected his slim, scarred fingers. Likely he didn’t see them often, even Stretch didn’t and they lived together.

He wasn’t supposed to be seeing this, couldn’t look away as Red only held Edge’s limp hand in both his own, pressed a kiss against those lax fingers before setting it back down with deliberate care.

“always come back to me, kid, you hear me?” Red murmured, a low, desperate rasp, He was gone in the next moment, vanishing into an eerily silent shortcut and that was Stretch’s cue.

Edge was sound asleep and there was a large, comfy chair pulled up next to the hospital bed that Stretch promptly ignored, gingerly curling up next to him, as close as he could get without disturbing him. For the first time since Edge sat him down to tell him about this trip, his soul settled, that achy, raw feeling easing.

Exhausted as he was, Stretch only lay there, looking into that battered, beloved face, tasting the sweet salt of his own melancholy tears as he whispered a plea of his own, “don’t ever leave me. please.”

He didn’t expect Edge to stir with a sleepy sigh, his sockets opening to show a sliver of crimson as he slurred out, “Won’t, love. M’ yours.”

“mine and yours, like his and his towels,” Stretch whispered back, stifling a teary giggle and when Edge sleepily held out an arm, he took the invitation. Snuggling in with his skull resting on Edge’s ribcage, an arm strung loosely around him as Stretch listened intently to the soft, steady thrum of his husband’s soul.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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pcygoldenchild · 5 years

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The Racer

🥀summary: Sehun loves going fast. All his life he’s been in the fast lane, in first place. But he’s got his eyes on a prize that isn’t his and plans on getting it.

🥀genre: smut&angst//mafia/racer au!//adult themes//sexual content//Sehun POV.

When you buy a new car, you get a sense of keeping it for a while. Wanting to make new memories with it and cherish it for as long as you can. A cars life can be as long or short as the person who drives it wants it to be. The driver has all the control. What a fucked up relationship.

I may be a drift racer. I may push my cars to the limit. But anything they feel, so do I. And there is no better feeling than going fast. Fast enough to feel your heart race through your fingers on the wheel. That’s when I’m one with my car. When I feel everything she feels because it’s one heartbeat.

I’ve been racing for a long time. Since I could remember, I’ve loved cars. But racing was something cars brought to me. They pointed me in the direction of the fast lane and I haven’t left since.

But racing isn’t all I do. No, I’m a wanted man all over. Racing has its demons, it’s illegal. But racing is the purest thing I do. I’m a killer. A man of no morals or mercy. That’s just the mentality you have to have in a world like this. This dark life where you can’t trust anyone or anything to be as the face it shows. But it’s not so bad. Look at me, I’ve managed.

In fact I’ve managed pretty well. You see, I’m a big shot. A fast man with fast tendencies. I’m quick with my actions. If I want something, I get it. If I see it, it’s already mine. And that’s how I’ve come to be the man in my position. The fastest on the coast and the most dangerous.

But every man has a weakness. You’d think mine would be cars, and it is. But I’ve got another prize I need to get. It’s a real fine prize. One in a million. So rare I can’t get it out of my mind.

Y/N. She’s a boss among men. A woman among girls. I’ve had my fair share of pussy to keep me going. I’m not much into relationships. But I’d be willing to give her anything she wants. But she’s got someone doing that for her already. But he’s so fucking bad at it.

I first saw her at a race. I wasn’t racing but I always attend. I’m a living legend, why wouldn’t I show up?She was with her pathetic excuse of a husband. He’s nothing. She’s more important than he is. He’s short and muscular but one hideous man. They married for a deal and now he parades around with her like he’s hot shit. But he’s the most scared little thing. An ego of a child and the mindset of a idiot. What she sees in him is not a question. She sees him the same way everyone does. An imbecile.

I didn’t say anything to her that day. She was too distracting. All I could do was stare and admire from a far. And I couldn’t let anyone know who my next move was on. She’s been approached by a lot of men. None have been able to even make her laugh. Not even blink an eye at them. I love it.

Tonight there’s a race across the city. It’s a pretty loaded race. A new batch of rascals to fall in love with the asphalt on their tires. I’d be a fool not to go. Besides, everyone treats me like some celebrity. What kind of role model for these kids would I be if I didn’t show up?

But in all seriousness, I could care less about those kids and their rebellious needs to drift race with their parents cars. I know she will be there. Her husband pretends to like racing and goes for every single one. And she accompanies him just in case something goes down, she will protect him. If she were mine, she’d never have to worry.

The streets are dark but the track is lined with cars. All different colors and styles. I decided to go with my classic Porche. It’s new but it’s classic in the sense that I don’t race it. I just ride around in it and if I happen to need to push the limits, I will. Black and sleek with dark windows. The inside is spacious for a coupe and red interior leather. A real beauty.

I make my rounds. Greet the guys who have been with me on this journey but hate me because they wish there were in my position. Ignore the girls that I’ve fucked and left alone because they were dumb enough to believe I was actually interested. Intimidate the kids who look far too young to be wasting their youth on illegal racing that could put them in jail for the remainder of their young adult lives. But none of these people are worth my time. I go to sit back on my car scoping out the premises. The race would start soon but there is no sign of my prize.

“One day I’d like to see you race, Sehun. See what all the hypes about.” a voice said from next to my car. And I knew who it was. I didn’t even care to look at him.

“You have. You bet against me remember?” I said. He was being the annoying little shit he is. He’s seen me race plenty of times. And he’s bet against me twice.

“Maybe. If I did it’s been a while. Memories a little foggy.” he said doing his dumb waddle to come in front of me. And there she was being dragged along with his arm around her petite waist. Looking just killer. She wore a black leather jacket and a white v neck with jeans. It was a simple look but her body and attitude was enough to make her look ten times better than anyone you’d ever seen.

“You lost 20 grand. Twice. I know you remember. I’d take you as a better gambler than that. But then again no one takes you as a good anything.” I laughed at him. He was the type to be tough outside but a bitter shrewd on the inside. Not a bone to be scared of in his body.

“Nice car.” she said. Her voice. Goddamn her voice. It wasn’t all high pitched and girly. It had character. It had roughness to it. It was a voice I’d like to hear every second of the day.

“Wanna take a ride? She’s a smooth one.” I smirked at her and I could have sworn I saw her smirk back. She did. But her little Mr. Penguin turned her away.

“She’s got a great ride.” he said. And I couldn’t help but laugh. Was he insinuating he’s a great ride? That’s a joke for the books.

“I highly doubt it.” I said. And she laughed. I could go on and on about her laugh and her smile and her mannerisms all day but you get it.

“I’d watch your self Sehun.” he said. As if anything his empty threats did were make you feel bad for the pathetic bastard.

“Or what? What exactly will you do?” I try to say seriously but the smile on my face was slowly deteriorating his ego. A smart man wouldn’t step to me. But I don’t expect much logic from him.

“Gentlemen. Let’s not cause a scene we will have to finish.” she said. Her voice cutting me like a knife. It exposed my very soul to a new world and she wasn’t even trying.

“What’s so wrong with a harmless drive little man? Don’t you trust your wife?” I tease just a bit. This was fun. And she was actually speaking to me with amusement. I made her laugh at the expanse of her own husband who was standing right next to her.

“I trust her more than anything. She is my wife, Sehun. But I don’t trust one part of you. You’re a ruthless scum.” he said and I could taste the disgust in his words. But the only disgust was that he wasn’t me. And that sounds like a personal problem.

“Leave it up to your wife then. What can I do that she can’t control? You may be the least threatening person out there little man, but she’s a fierce being. Fire in her just like me.” I say as I look at her. Her gaze was hypnotic and angelic but so devious. I didn’t care that I was clearly flirting with her in front of her husband. And neither did she.

“I’ll go. And I don’t want to hear a word of this.” she said looking down to her dumbfounded partner. The look in his face was priceless. But he let her go. It’s obvious who wore the pants and the power.

As we pulled out of the lot, she laughed. Her laugh burned. I imagined the burning of rubber on the streets as the feeling of my heart whenever she did anything. Anything that let me see her different from what others did.

“What’s so funny?” I ask gripping the steering wheel tight enough to hide my excitement. Because in all honesty, I was more than excited to have her in my car on her own will.

“You making my poor husbands vein pop out of the side of his temple.” she said smooth as day. Voice like honey. Words like poetry.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before.” I said. It was an impulsive response. A response based solely on my reaction to the sound.

“Well that’s because you’ve never given me anything to laugh at Sehun.” she purred. My name coming from her lips was seductive even if she wasn’t trying to be. I would see her look over at me everytime I spoke or she spoke. Her attentiveness making my limbs go numb.

“You’re a tough cookie. Needed to make sure my material was right before I gave it a shot.” I said after a while of smirking to myself. My own brain going against me making me picture the way she’s taking in my features as her eyes lock on my jaw or my eyelashes. I look over at her at a red light. The red reflection on her golden skin as her eyes meet mine felt like being on a drug. Her lips were plump and all I could think of was how wasteful it was for them to be used on a man like her husband. We just stared at each other in silence. The light seemed to stay red way too long. Her stare was unwavering. Her eyes only leaving mine to look everywhere else on my face. She let out a hum of appreciation or content, I can’t tell, just before the light turned green on her face. I broke away.

“I think it’s time to show me your skills if you want us to fuck in the back seat Sehun.” she said. And the words made me hard. But the confusion really made that hardness die down. It was written all over my face. It was a surprise to say the least. But she was always straight to the point. And I had to swallow the excitement dancing on my tongue trying to force a smile that she would love to see.

“Seatbelt.” I demanded. I was going to show her a good ride. A game is nothing new to me. And this was my area.

We sped off into the street and I figured why not go the route the racers would be going. We cut through a lot of streets and alleyways to go all the way around the track and cut through the middle. My turns were sharp and precise. The squeal of my tires like music to my ears. It was effortless to me. I sat relaxed and at ease with her right beside me. It’s a shame I need to pay attention to the road going this fast. The times I looked over at her, she looked exhilarated. The same joy I felt when I first went fast. We reached the third quarter of the track in less than 10 minutes. Record time as it takes 47 minutes to get there the way I came.

“You know, I’ve always admired you. Besides being the only attractive racer out here, you’re smart. I guess you have to be in your line of work. Aren’t we all smart killers?” she said after I put the car in park.

“I’ve always admired you. But who doesn’t. Never would I think it would be this easy.” I said honestly. I wasn’t calling her easy, she was far from it. I was just saying that this did not require the amount of suave you thought you’d have to pull out.

“Sehun I’m in your car because I want to be. If you want to call it easy, then it’s easy. But I see it as this. I’m giving you a shot that many want. I finally gave you a chance to win me over. So what will you do to claim your prize Sehun?” she said turning to me. She pushed off her leather jacket and raised an eyebrow at me. The moment seemed surreal. The effect of having one less layer on her body was making my neck hot. Her body was only covered by so much. My hands trembled to touch her. To claim my prize.

“What was it you said earlier about fucking me in the backseat?” I asked because this is what she was hinting at. We’re both adults, no need to play games or beat around the bush.

“I don’t know. Let’s get to the back seat and find out.” she said smirking. And I was down. I mean this could have been very well an attempt to kill me. But chances were, I did not care. I’d die a happy man.

She climbed to the backseat. Her small body easily fitting through the seats. She sat in the middle and stared at me with her bottom lip between her teeth. When I went to join her, she held her hand out for me to stop.

“What do you think about when you see me?” she asked. The question caught me off guard. What do I think about when I see her? Honestly, nothing. I can’t think straight.

“Nothing.” I said. To anyone that would be a pretty alarming response, but to her, she knew what it meant. She smirked and began pulling her shirt up over her head. Her skin looked so soft. She wore a black lace bra, of course she did. Her collar bone looked so enticing, so inviting. Her waist and hips created the most delicate curve.

“What are you thinking now?” she asked. Her voice never ceased to make me melt.

“You look so beautifully innocent to be so deadly.” I said breathlessly. My heart was racing. I just wanted to be back there with her, feeling her. She laughed her angelic laugh and ran her hands down her body to her jean button. I watched as she undid them and pushed them down letting her long soft legs bask in the moonlight. Her panties were see through and black. My eyes couldn’t help but devour her lower half. I wanted to leave marks on her inner thighs. Wanted to taste the heaven between her legs.

“Sehun there’s something I’ve always thought of when I saw you.” she spoke as her hands went to the clasp if her bra.

“You’re a handsome devil yourself. A devious man who gets what he wants.” she said as the bra straps fell from her shoulders. My heart couldn’t stop it’s attempts to leave my chest. My cock uncomfortable in my pants, I need to take everything off.

“But you never came for me.” she said letting the bra fall. Her beautiful breast on full display. Her nipples hard and begging for my lips. I was too in shock to realize that I was still fully clothed.

“And you are still not moving and fully dressed while I’m here waiting for you to take me.” she said pulling her panties down and spreading herself, all for me. I looked at her in silence for a minute or two. I’ve never been so speechless in front of a woman. She was beautiful from her head to her toes. Every inch of skin sculpted to perfection. I could tell that my stare did something to her. Her chest rose and fell deeper the longer I stayed silent. But I couldn’t stay silent for long.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to get you.” I said sitting up a bit in my seat to take off my jacket and shirt. Her eyes immediately going to my chiseled physique.

“But a prize this perfect takes time to acquire.” I said as I unbuttoned my jeans only pulling them and my briefs down enough that would tease her. I made my way between the seats and to the back. She moved to the side as her eyes stayed locked on mine.

“And I’m willing to go any length to make sure that prize stays mine.” I said. Her hands were gripping the seat and I wasn’t even touching her. But then I was.

I pushed my lips to hers. Push isn’t a good word, I devoured her. Her lips, her tongue, her jaw and neck were all enticing enough that I had to taste it all at the same time. Her hands played on my skin, up my abs and chest, down my back and spine, on the bit of skin I exposed to her at my waist.

“I want the entire length Sehun.” she whispered as her hands came to the front of my jeans diving into them and my boxers. Her small hand wrapped around my length. Her small, small fingers.

I shiver at her grasp and wish nothing more than to give her what she wants. I push my pants and briefs down in one smooth motion letting myself free. Her eyes break from mine and meet my cock. Her lip going between her teeth as her throat whines. All at the sight of me. The sounds she’d make with me inside her...

I push her back and waste no time in grabbing her legs. I spread them apart and then pull her to me. I’m rough when I have to be. And she made it impossible not to be.

“I need to hear you. Don’t hold back sweetheart. Because I won’t.” I said as I lined up with her. Her warm cunt soaking my tip. It was euphoric. I dived in before she could respond but she listened. Her choked scream and the way she wrapped around me making my dick twitch. She was so tight and warm. Her small body being fucked by me, someone twice her size. Her hips so small I had to grip hard to fuck into her how I needed to. Her movements of her hips doing everything as she tried to control her breathing. It was driving me crazy watching her body move and her voice tremble as I fucked her. I couldn’t help the way my rhythm faltered everytime it got to be too much. Every time she tightened around me to the point where I could cum. Every time I went so deep inside her that she screamed louder than the last. Everytime I brushed against her spot making her thighs try to close. It was all working for me. Every last bit of her was tearing me apart. Her nails dug into my wrists on her hips. Her pleads and cries of pleasure.

I took my time with her. Slowing down when she needed it. Speeding up when I felt like it. Fucking her and rubbing her clit until she shook. Only to stop and start again until she did it again. I could have went on for hours like that. Making her a mess as her screams bounced off my windows. Her screams so high pitched they could shatter the glass. But she couldn’t take it. She made me cum when she did. Her power of tightening around me and not letting me breath was more than I expected it to be. She had full control over me. Her eyes meeting mine as she did so. It’s like she knew I was done for. Like she knew this was her time to make me cum. Her tight pussy only getting tighter making me cum inside her. I came a lot inside her.

I couldn’t catch my breath. I pulled out and let my cum fall from her hole into my seats. I didn’t care. It was a sight to see. She sat up and more spilled out of her. She grabbed my face and pulled me to hers. Her lips grazing mine in a smirk.

“I think you’ve claimed your prize. But I’m non refundable.” she smirked. I let out a breath. I don’t know what I was expecting but that wasn’t it.

“So what does that mean exactly? Don’t start using code now. You’re always so blunt.” I said honestly as I grabbed her face with one hand. I needed her to say what she meant. Say it to me.

“I’m yours.” she said looking into my eyes. Cars speeding by as their headlights passed on her face. The sound dull under the thudding of my heartbeat.

She’s mine.

#exo smut #sehun smut #sehun x reader #exo fanfic #exo #pcygoldenchild #exo scenario

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fromcabin13 · 4 years

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what a rush!

pairing: Jerome Valeska x fem!Reader.

summary: Everyone has a favorite side when it comes to the dynamic of the villain and the main characters, some people love the thrill of a good sarcastic murderer that doesn’t consider death as powerful as everyone say it is and some people adore the dorky hero that has the casual thoughts of a five year old even if they end up saving the world. Your childhood best friend, Jerome, always wondered which character was her favorite, I guess he found out once he became the main character of their own mystery book. 2.5k.

note: i was thinking in turning this into a series lmk what u think i absolutely love getting constructive criticism or just thoughts that people have about what i write so pls do interact with me :(

Being in the circus wasn’t as fun as it seems. If you weren’t a talented child you got stuck taking care of the animals or taking care of the assembling. That was what bonded Jerome and _. The quiet guy that didn’t want to spend any more time with his mother and glorified the times when she was out of their trailer practicing or being on stage because he could finally find the peace that her lover's fists didn’t give him.

“Good evening, ladies and gentleman!” He would scream with a smile upon his face, pretending that the broom was a microphone and the public was only _. Showing her the real face behind his mask and boosting his ego every time her eyes sparkled at the sight of his devilish smile.

“You are really good at this.” She used to say. Making her way to the guy only to caress his cheek with a playful smirk. “You’ve got the looks and the attitude. The only thing that’s missing is your catchphrase.”

“My catchphrase?” Back when he was still a little innocent, he asked provoking her to jokingly tap his nose with her index finger.

“Powerful people have a catchphrase, something that makes everyone say 'Oh, that’s Jerome’s thing'. It doesn’t have to be a catchphrase necessary; it has to be something that represents you. Like...” she began enlisting the things that could represent him and tracing the path with her fingers. “Your majestic ginger hair,” her hand made her way to his hair only to make a mess with it just to watch it go back to its place. “your cold eyes,” the eyebrows seemed to be the best way to gesture his eyes, convincing his grin to come out. “or your perfect shiny loud smile. You do have a pretty smile. You know that, right?” Jerome seemed pleased with how she was complimenting him. He did like how smooth and confident she always showed to be when she flirted. “And your laugh! Oh, your laugh is my favorite thing in the world.”

Of course, _ didn’t realize that she was letting out of the cage the sound that would cause many nightmares in the future. She also didn’t realize that her compliments were only encouraging the need for attention of his psychopath best friend that, surprisingly, had a soft spot for the lonely tough girl that softened up from time to time only for him. But then again, how could she know? He was a boy with dead eyes that only smiled if he was with her. She showed him how funny watching practices were because of the chaos that the families usually created, he’d laughed for hours enjoying watching them punching each other. Secretly desiring watching them do more than fighting.

“You want them to kill each other?” She laughed when he finally confessed his thoughts. “They don’t have a strong mind to put up with death.”

Jerome liked that she constantly read books about mystery, always complimenting how dumb the killers were both in Gotham as in the books. He didn’t know the real reason behind her reading those novels, whether she wanted to be a cop or an evil mastermind. How ironic was life that gave him the answer the second he walked inside her and Mrs. Cicero’s trailer.

She flinched, getting closer to the redheaded with extreme cautious inspecting his hands covered in blood only to take them staining her as well. The answer came to his mind when instead of calling the police as any right mind would’ve done, she pulled him into a hug not even caring that he was smirking covered in his own mother’s blood.

The teen only said what he did to her mother without any further explanation; he just casually commented that he brutally murdered his mother with cero details. The fake psychic gasped hearing the scene that was happening in front of him, offering to help by thinking how to take care of the homicidal weapon. He ordered the eighteen year old friends to wash away any trace of blood that could trace them to the woman and _ asked herself if he was a secret serial killer because of how steady his voice was. She sort of understood how helpful Paul was not minding that he became accessory to a murder because she have wanted to do the same thing Jerome did since she first laid her eyes upon the woman.

Once the blind man was out of the place (trying to get some air to get his things straight), the girl glanced eagerly to the matricidal boy wanting to know the whole story but gave up when she was being pushed by him into the bath that was filling with cold water. There are some things that are better left unknown until the time is right.

As the water dripped from the tap, the smile from the face of the killer wore off leaving in its place a tired look filled with anger and grief. The girl knew it was for a good reason, he had to put up with his mother and the angry fists of her multiple lovers every night.

Both sat in front of each other, shaking the cold water away and scratching any trace of blood from their feet to their chests. He watched her silently as she analyzed the situation by looking at an invisible point on the wall, then the boy proceeded to gently wash away the blood that ended up on her face.

“How can you be so… calm?” She hesitated. Her childhood friend seemed long gone now that she knew what he had done. In front of her there was a man whose pulse didn´t tremble slitting his own mother open. She could wrap her mind around the idea of Jerome growing out of the mold of the perfect son that had to look into the devil’s eyes almost every day and still be calm about it, she always knew he eventually was going to explode but didn´t knew it was going to be like that.

“How couldn´t I? I´m free.” He laughed, letting the mischievous chill that his laughter had go down his friend’s spine. Suddenly the room felt as cold as the water they were in and she didn’t do anything else but to laugh at how things went down.

They chuckled their way until a few centimeters were between each other, he caught the glimpse of fear inside her eyes and suddenly his hands were around her throat until they weren´t. He let his arms fall to her back and hugged her as hard as he could without hurting the only human being he actually cared about.

They left the bathtub and he grabbed the change of clothing he had on her wardrobe, he used to stay over every time his mom brought home a guy that could actually hurt him really bad, like the time a drunk guy that was twice Jerome’s size walked through the door and he ran away horrified before having to be hospitalized.

_ adjusted the collar of his shirt, slowly trailing up with her eyes as she passed through his neck swallowing hard, to his playful smile and finally landing on the wink that made her lips curl up and raise her eyebrows.

“I need to confess that blood does look good on you.” That comment should’ve of gave her nausea but instead it unraveled on her a feeling that made her warm up inside.

After they followed the plan of the old man, the pair of the soon-to-be adults moved on with their daily activities such as helping put in the circus. Ignoring every question about the location of the snake dancer restraining themselves from telling the truth. For the first time, _ felt part of something greater than her; a murder was a big thing to commit and often did end up in many more serious things.

The thing was that she didn’t feel anything, she didn´t know if it was because the victim in question was a horrible person or because she was a mentally unstable person that would do anything for her best friend. She pushed the last idea aside, smiling at the ginger every time their met just like the routine they had, everything felt good and calm. She wished things could stay that way, she wished they could move on scratching Lila out of the picture saying she abandoned Jerome and live happily ever after in a future where both could get marry and pretend that the boy, that she had feelings towards to, wasn’t a psychopath that could commit a coldblooded murder without even blinking.

As expected, things didn’t go as she desired. The show began and they locked themselves in the trailer not knowing what to say, trying to play it off by lying down on the couch that he called bed. She rested her head on his chest, hearing how the steady heartbeats filled her with feelings such as confusion, fear and attraction. _ looked up, finding his eyes already staring at her.

“Have you ever imagined doing what you did?” her voice smoothed her way into his ears; the question resonated in his mind trying to think a way of sugarcoating his constant homicidal thoughts.

“When I’m angry.” The words came out harsher than he thought but she didn’t look surprised, deep down as she watched his mother yelling at him, she recognized that spark of madness in his eyes.

Instead of trying moving away from Jerome, she found a way to get their faces closer. “Have you ever imagined yourself murdering me?”

“The only scenario I imagine myself hurting you is one where we both want it.” He guffawed at his own comment, spreading his smile to her and accomplishing the goal of soothing the waters as she hit him playfully on his chest. That sooth environment quickly replaced the feeling of home for concern when they heard knocking on the door.

She placed a jacket over him giving him a side hug as both opened the door, taking care of her best friend considering the possibility of the knocking on the door being the GCPD ready to throw him on jail.

It was the GCPD. Luckily for them they didn’t know anything but had concerns about the disappearance of the woman that Jerome killed hours ago, the boy played the part of the soft boy worried about his trophy mother. The cop believed him, playing a game with his eyes glancing from Jerome to _ and making his way back to the boy’s eyes again, multiple times. Then Jerome had to send everything down the sink, announcing that she couldn’t of have been gone on a spree without any of her personal belongings.

She tensed her whole body until she felt his hand trying to interlace their fingers together, gladly corresponding to the poor attempt to calm her. It was working until they let loose the snake.

“The body is far away, _. The snake’s only going to escape and case closed.” He whispered onto her ear as they began to follow the animal. He was wrong and Sheba, the reptile, managed to find the body of the woman.

A collective gasp was heard within the crowd, the girl’s included, and Jerome burst into tears. At first, it hit her with confusion wondering if he was really regretting killing her, but as she kneeled down to hug the boy she knew it was all an act. He rested his forehead between her neck and her shoulder so she felt on her skin the smug smirk that gave her goose bumps.

GCPD took only Al at first right that instant while the actual murderers got inside of the Valeska’s trailer with sad eyes that turned into smiles when the door closed. The girl couldn’t help but to burst into cackles that were silenced by Jerome’s hand prisoning her to the wall looking worried.

Letting his hand fall slowly to her waist, he murmured right above her mouth without taking a chance of ungluing his eyes out of her lips. “If they hear us laughing, show’s over.”

Luckily for them, silence filled the room with honor because kissing didn’t make that much of a noise. She made her way, that day had been strange enough; she could make it weirder than it already was by making a move on the guy that she had had feelings for a long time. At first, it was an innocent peck on the lips of her best friend but, as soon as her best friend realized what was going on, he grabbed her by the back of her neck to pull her in for a deeper kiss.

As the tongues tangled together and casual smiles popped out of nowhere (or out of how much was the time they have been longing for that), his hands danced through her back to her waist and she lightly pulled his hair causing a moan to escape through the tiny gap between his lips, fomenting her to do it harder and taking advantage of the head falling onto her hand so she could kiss the now fully exposed neck.

The couple didn’t know what to do but to kill the time while waiting for the cops to come for them as soon as the acrobats disarmed the stage feeling sorry for the kid that lost her mother. But, on the other hand, killing time seemed fascinating as now Jerome’s neck was covered in bites soon to be hickeys and his hands replaced the girl’s waist for her hips and finally her thighs. The place where they draw the limit and realized that the adrenaline was addicting to the point of total chaos. If she’d only know that chaos, in a future, would be redefined by him.

The knock on the door that morning wasn’t as unpleasant as the last one since they had fallen asleep together and remembered the things that went down hours ago from then. They even laughed seeing through the window how they took every people in the circus with handcuffs.

“I bet you would look good on handcuffs.” He flirtatiously played the comment off as a joke, meaning what he said and taking a minute to look into his partner’s face for reactions.

_ smirked pushing him to the side so she could be the one that would open the door. “I bet you would look good putting me in handcuffs.”

They didn’t know what was happening, were they something? Could they call themselves “a couple”? Should they deny every assumption of them being together or should they laugh and shrug as they used to do? In all honesty that could’ve of matter in some other time but they were being escorted to the police precinct only the next day from when Jerome killed his mother and _ helped him to cover his tracks. Anything made sense, why would they?

There was something about having her knees bumping into Jerome’s inside a squad car, it made her dissociate with reality making her remember the night that she spent with him. Without even realizing it, her hand rested on his thigh making him raise an eyebrow while trying to hide his surprised face. Muffling the laugh that came out of his mouth with the sleeve of the blue sweater.

#gotham #gotham x reader #jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x you #jerome valeska smut #valeska brothers #gotham fic

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verai-marcel · 5 years

Note

i’d like to request something purely self-indulgent, as i work in a library. but an arthur x reader where the reader works in a library or bookstore and arthur is a patron and one day he corners her when she’s alone in the stacks 👀 i love your writing so much and i check constantly to see if you’ve updated ❤️ keep up the amazing work

Reading Between The Lines (RDR2 Fanfic, 18+, Arthur x Fem!Reader, DubCon)

Summary: You’re the assistant to a bookstore owner, in a used bookstore off the beaten path in St Denis. It is a store with books stacked to the ceiling, the stuffed shelves creating the many nooks and crannies in this labyrinth of a shop. It is in one of these nooks that Arthur finds you.

Author’s Notes: Oh anon, you gave me such a delicious prompt. I started this off with a softer Arthur, but in the end, he’s selfish when it comes to you. Thus, a softie low honor Arthur.

Tags: smut, seduction, low honor Arthur, dubcon, semi-public sex, D/s undertones

AO3 Link here!

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“I’ll be gone a couple of days. You going to be alright alone?”

“I’ll be fine, sir,” you said, smiling with confidence. The shop owner always asked you this before he left on his trips to buy and sell rare books, and every time, you had no problem handling business.

The old man nodded at you. He was a kind man, with no children of his own, and his wife, having passed a year ago from consumption, had left him with only his store and his love of books to keep him company. But he wasn’t depressed; he accepted life with its ups and downs, and carried on with his hobby. You expected him to keep going on these trips until he died. It was the only thing that truly brought light to his eyes these days.

Since he had hired you last year to help him mind the shop, it had grown in popularity and was actually bringing in a profit, as opposed to barely breaking even like it was before. You hoped that you’d continue this upward trend, but mostly, you hoped that more people would learn to read so that more books would be written.

You helped the old man into the coach and turned back to the shop, just as a familiar face rounded the corner.

“Hello Mr. Morgan!” you greeted cheerfully as the man opened the door for you.

“Hey there, sunshine” he said, giving you a smile that you secretly loved. Pulling a couple of books from his satchel, he placed them on the counter in front of your till. “Would these be worth anything?”

You looked through them; unfortunately, they were common books, but they were in good condition. You told him as much.

“Oh well. Can I go browse a bit? Maybe I’ll get somethin’ next time.”

“Sure,” you said, watching him head off to the art section. You were always surprised by the books he took an interest in. Every week, sometimes twice a week, Mr. Morgan would come in with some used books to sell, and would buy a book when he had enough credit.

You remember when he had first come into the shop; you were alone, like today, and felt terrified. He looked like the type of man to rob you, with the guns in his holsters and his gruff appearance. But you need not have feared; he had quietly asked you if he could browse your collection, and had placed a few books on the counter to see if he could resell them. When you told him that he’d get more for them in store credit than he would if she were to buy them off him, he gladly took the store credit.

For the past two months, he had grown into one of your favorite customers. Beneath that tough guy facade, you got to know a man who was charmingly self-deprecating, snarky, yet keenly observant. He could put together a sentence with more wit and beauty than most of the folks who stepped into the store.

Looking at the time, you knew that at this late hour, you’d be lucky if one patron showed up between now and closing time. Taking the pile of books at your counter, you wrote them all down in the new inventory list and went to place them on their proper shelves.

***

As you walked down the shelves, you remembered when he had first called you ‘Sunshine’. It was a gloomy day, and as the rain poured outside, you sat at the window in your yellow dress, smiling as you saw him shuffle into the store, stomping his feet and taking his coat and hat off to hang on the coat rack next to the door.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Morgan!” you had greeted him brightly.

“Howdy, miss.” He looked you up and down, taking in your dress and your smile. “Yer as bright as the sun. Maybe I should start callin’ you Sunshine.”

You laughed, bringing a warm smile to his face.

“Not sure if I’m that bright, but I’ll take it,” you responded happily.

He had walked closer to you then. “You always make my day brighter whenever I see ya.”

For a time-stopping heartbeat, you had stared at him in shock as he gave you a flirty smile and then wandered off to the art section.

***

You had one last book to put away, and it was almost time to close the store. At least you’d be able to lock up without having to stay late; you trusted Mr. Morgan to not steal from you while you busied yourself around the shelves. As you made your way towards the back of the shop, you looked down the aisle where the art books were.

He was still there, perusing a rather large book on wildlife in the Southwest. Looking up as you walked past, he blinked his eyes, as if he had been staring at one spot for too long. He probably had been.

“Is it time for me to go?”

He sounded a little sad and it broke your heart. “Almost, but you can stay until I have to lock up. I’ll let you know.”

He nodded at you, and went back to his book.

You found the section of the shop that had the romance novels, and realized that the only free space was up high, where you couldn’t reach without grabbing a stool or a chair. Sighing, you reached up, hoping that maybe you could slip the book in without having to go back. You shifted you grip to the very corner of the book, hoping the extra inch would be enough to let you squeeze the book between two others. You got on your tiptoes and stretched.

The book slipped from your grasp and bonked you on the head.

“Ow!” you yelped, holding your head as you bent over to pick up the book from the ground. Grumbling that you’d have to go all the way back to the front of the store to grab a chair, and then have to carry it all the way here and all the way back, you stood up, only to find Mr. Morgan standing before you with a quizzical look on his face.

“You alright?”

Your face heated up from embarrassment, and you nodded quickly. “I-I’m fine, just…” You tilted your head and had an idea.

“Could you…” You trailed off and quickly looked away. It was a dumb idea, anyway.

He looked at the book in your hand and looked up at the shelf. He stepped closer to you, holding his hands out. “May I?”

You nodded and started to hand him the book. Instead, he took you by the waist and lifted you up, high enough that you could put the book in its rightful place. Once you got over the shock, you quickly put the book on the shelf, and he let you down slowly, almost as if he was prolonging the contact. Once your feet were firmly planted on the floor, his hands lingered on your waist. You looked up at him, confused and a little bit flustered when you saw how he was looking at you; there was a heat to his gaze, a longing for more than just this temporary touch.

“Mr. Morgan?”

He blinked, the look in his eyes returning to that gentle ocean blue that you found so refreshing as he let you go, his hands falling to his sides. “Sorry, I, uh, got lost in my own head for a moment,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

You tilted your head; you did that when you had a strong thought or idea, as if the weight of the idea pulled your head to one side.

“What were you thinking about?” you asked, naively. You thought perhaps he had problems in his day to day life, and came here to the bookstore to recuperate, calm his mind. Perhaps he even used books to escape from whatever he had to deal with when he wasn’t here. You ignored the look from before; that couldn’t have been directed at you. Maybe he was thinking of a lost love.

But then that heat returned full force and aimed straight at you. There was no ignoring it this time as he took a step closer. “Sunshine, you can’t ask a question like that and expect me to answer.”

“I…” You swallowed and tried again. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just… curious.”

Ever so slowly, he reached for you. You didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. But once he touched you, you let out a breath, as if you had been waiting your whole life for his touch. Cradling your cheek in his big palm, you leaned into his warmth and closed your eyes, almost moaning as his calloused fingers massaged behind your ear.

“Like a sweet lil’ puppy, ain’tcha?”

You absentmindedly nodded into his hand.

You heard the sound of his boots as he stepped closer. The heat emanating from him felt like sitting in front of a warm fire, and you leaned towards him. His other hand rested on your hip, and he almost imperceptibly pulled you ever closer. Sliding his hand up your back, he trapped you in his embrace, leaning down to run his lips over yours.

“You shouldn't let yer guard down,” he whispered.

You blinked. “Wait, what—”

Too late. He kissed you, devoured you, consumed you like candy. Taking two steps forward, forcing you against the wall, he crushed you with his whole body. You pushed back at him, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

"No one's here, pet. Just you," he kissed your cheek, "and me." He kissed your other cheek. "All alone." He ran his hand down your neck, your shoulder, to your breast, cupping it gently as he kissed your lips once more. His other hand took your wrist and held it against the wall.

He pulled back to look at you, your lips parted, your chest heaving as you took a much needed deep breath, and your pupils dilated with desire.

"What a good lil' puppy," he crooned as he ran his fingers through your hair. He marveled at the feel of it. "So cute and happy to see me."

"W-wait, Mr. Morgan, I-"

He placed a finger on your lips. "Shush. Call me Arthur."

And then he kissed you again as he let go of your wrist and grabbed your hip. His other hand moved up and lovingly caressed your neck. You let out a soft whine, unable to stop yourself from responding to his touch.

"Want more, sweet?"

You weren't sure what to say.

He started to unbutton your blouse.

Reaching up to grab his hands, you found your voice. "We can't."

He stopped moving. "Why not?"

"We barely know each other!"

Arthur smiled. "Then let's git to know each other." He leaned in close. "In the biblical sense." Then he continued to unbutton your blouse.

You tried pushing him back, but ended up just grabbing at his shirt as he leaned in and kissed your neck, then your collarbone. His hands moved down, revealing your skin to the light of the oil lamps around the store. Arthur became greedy with need, yanking your blouse and chemise off your shoulders, exposing your beasts to his gaze.

"Beautiful," he muttered as he palmed your breasts and leaned down to lick a sensitive nipple. Plucking at the other one with his calloused fingers, he smiled as you whimpered with need, leaning into his touch as desire swelled in you. He kissed you again as he teased your willing body, undoing your skirt and drawers as he kept you distracted with his skillful lips.

You were soon nude, your clothes in a pile at your feet, and you didn't even care as Arthur continued to touch you. He wrapped his hand around your throat and held you against the wall. Making sure he had your attention, he reached down and took off his belt, then unbuttoned his fly.

"You ever been with a man, pet?"

You nodded as you looked away. You had, but they had been temporary paramours when you were younger, fooling around when you had been barely out of school. Now that you were older, you didn't sleep around; you thought you didn't have that fire in you anymore. But then Arthur came into your life. That lust that you thought had been extinguished came back to life whenever he touched you. But you hardly knew him. Was this really okay?

Arthur grasped your chin and forced you to look at him. "Don'tchu worry about nothin' else. Right now, I'm havin' you, and ain't nothin' gonna stop me."

He took your lips once more as his hands wandered down your body. You felt his knee pushing your legs open, then his fingers finding you wet and eager, even if your mind hadn't caught up to your body. You wanted this, but it was going so fast, and Arthur was just so intense in his desire for you, it was overwhelming.

"Yer almost ready for me, darlin'," he mumbled as he pulsed his fingers in and out of your wet channel, his thumb flicking your clit, shooting sparks of pleasure through you. "Get me ready for you."

You tentatively reached inside of his fly and grasped the velvet steel of his cock. Freeing his member from his pants, he groaned as you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking his sensitive skin.

"Guide me in," he ordered as he grabbed one of your legs and lifted it, pressing it against his hip. You helped him slide inside of you, both of you letting out sounds of pleasure as he connected with you, his cock thick and hot as it stretched you, making you his.

"You feel better than I dreamed," he gritted out as he pushed the last inch into you. "Gonna fuck you real good."

"Arthur!" you exclaimed, both turned on and surprised by his filthy words.

He chuckled as he began to move inside of you. "You knew I weren't a learned man," he grunted. "I'm a bad man, a selfish man."

As he told you this, he lifted you up easily and started pounding into you, forcing you to wrap your arms and legs around him for support as he took you aggressively. All you could do was cry out as the intensity of his craving for you overwhelmed your senses; his moans, his panting, his huge body shielding you from anyone that may come in and find you. All anyone would see are your legs and arms, wrapped around this big man as he thrust into you.

“Good girl,” he said softly into your ear as he sped up, barrelling towards his peak. “So close, sunshine.”

He pulled out of you and dragged you onto the ground, laying you on top of your clothes. Then he spread your legs and entered you once more, burying himself inside of you with a voracious need, almost as if he were possessed.

Then he lifted himself up and sat back, keeping himself inside of you as he continued to thrust, slowing his hips to a lazy roll. Grabbing your wrist and putting your hand at your folds, he made you touch yourself, made you feel him entering you.

“Feel that, darlin’? I want to feel you let go around me.”

You did as he asked, touching yourself as he watched, his hands gripping your hips. You bucked your hips as your pleasure came crashing through you, your muscles clenching around him as you came, whining and moaning.

He moaned wordlessly with lust before falling upon you, rutting into you like an animal as he completely lost control. He ignored your whimpers, his covetous thrusts filling you too hard as you thrashed under him, your body overstimulated beyond sanity, tears filling your eyes. It only seemed to turn him on more as he grabbed your wrists and pounded harder into you, until finally he pulled out at the last moment, rubbing himself up and down your wet slit as he came, spilling his spend all over your belly.

Arthur let out a shuddering breath as he let go of your wrists and lay down next to you. He dipped a finger into his spend on your skin and drew idle circles.

“That was a close one,” he said, laughing softly. “Was pretty tempted to finish inside of ya.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you for sparing me,” you mumbled, too wrecked to do anything but lay there and breathe.

He held himself up on an elbow and looked down at you. “Only for now, sunshine.” He leaned down and kissed you; this time it was gentle, soft. “Next time, we’re doin’ this in a proper bed.”

He leaned in to speak low in your ear.

“And next time, I’m takin’ you completely.”

You shivered. Whether it was in anticipation or apprehension, you weren’t sure.

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End Notes: Look up DG Wills Books in La Jolla. That was my inspiration for this bookstore. If you’re ever in the area, I highly recommend visiting. Hope this fulfilled your request, dear anon! This was a pleasure.

#rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #nsft #writing #fanfic #lemon fanfic #dubcon #tumblr request

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