#i don’t know. it’s been playing on repeat in all my dreams for weeks now. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neopuppy · 1 year

Text

Arcade (M)

pairing. Jeno x female reader

genre. hmm what’s all this then? anyway…… smut, M/F, pwp

warnings. vaginal/backdoor unprotected rough sex, rimming, non-consented camera use, you don’t have to read Switch+Chain to understand but it might help. minors DNI.

wc. 6k+

now playing. Arcade//NCT Dream

It’s hard.

It’s been hard actually, attempting to commit to some type of relationship while living in the same household as your.. whatever he was.

First love, the man who took your virginity, your boyfriend's father.

It doesn’t help that things have been really tense between you and Jeno ever since your mom refused to move out, claiming Johnny needs to compensate her for uprooting her life with false hope of a future together.

He acquires the guest room most nights, or…doesn’t come home, and you notice— you notice it every time. When he shows up the next day, neck garnished with bitten bruises poorly hidden under his collar, lips swollen red from whatever he got up to. The avoidance he graces you with— never once meeting your gaze as he passes by on the way to his office. It’s been about a month of this; and on top of it all your mother refuses to let you enjoy any alone time with Jeno.

‘I don’t approve of this.’ She repeats daily, shoving between the two of you sitting together in the living room. ‘You are not allowed to date this horrid insolent boy.’

Jeno can’t stand it either, not helping his case with his rude and disrespectful responses, arguing back and forth with her about how this is technically his house and she can leave.

“I can’t deal with your mom anymore.” He whispers. It’s 1am, also the time your mother typically passes out after raiding Johnny’s wine cabinet. Keeping you up later every night as you have to wait to sneak to each other’s bedrooms. “It’s been two weeks.”

Two weeks since you fucked.. in the upstairs bathroom at Mark’s house, some Saturday night kick back. Even then the two of you hadn’t mentioned your.. situationship to anyone. Jeno’s friends finding it peculiar how often he’s canceled on them to hang out with his… whatever you are.

“We can try a quiet activity..” you tease, tickling under his shirt.

“I can’t even fuck you in my room anymore without her breathing down my neck.” Jeno scowls, pushing his nose against your forehead. “Besides, we both know how loud you get, baby.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“I have an idea,” Jeno had already brought up getting a hotel before, foregoing the thought as his bank account stared back at him looking bleak; failing to mention that his father had cut off the weekly allowance he’d become accustomed to after their blow up(you know, the one about you). “Haechan just became a keyholder at that arcade place he works at.”

“You want to play video games, right now?”

“No no, I’m gonna ask him for a favor.” Jeno smiles, pulling you close to his chest. “For us.”

“Where are you going?”

Your foot tracks come to a halt just as you reach the front door, more dressed up than usual. Nothing much, a short velvet dress with lace trimming, something Jeno picked out from your closet without knowing who gifted it to you in the first place.

Placing your hand on your chest in mock-shock, you gasp turning to face Johnny. “Oh my God, I haven’t heard your voice in so long— I’d forgotten you even live here.”

“I remember this dress.” Johnny’s gaze traces down, stopping at your chest for a second too long as his mouth tweaks to one side. “You were supposed to wear it—“

“Yeah.” You interrupt, reaching for the hem floating just under the jut of your buttcheek to play with. “For our next weekend together, you said I looked pretty when I tried it on.”

“You do,” Johnny’s eyebrows come together, trailing down lower to your strappy heels and manicured toes. “You look beautiful, sexy. Gorgeous as always.”

“..do you miss me?” The question comes out unexpectedly, biting down on the sides of your tongue after asking, nervously pinching your thighs together as he nods; hand running through his loose hair and tugging at the ends.

“Of course I do.” Johnny nearly smiles, the corners of his lips pointing up, none of it reaching his dark eyes continuing to stay low and avoid your face. “But you’re going to meet my son right now, aren’t you?”

“No!” You snap to answer too fast, clearing your throat and swiping your hair back. “I’m meeting my friends.”

“You don’t have friends.” Johnny scoffs a laugh jokingly, shrugging half-apologetically. “Your mom asked me to make sure you stay away from Jeno, you know.”

“He’s my boy—friend..” you say hesitantly. “I think..”

“Yes, you do seem to be a pair.” Johnny hums, leaning against the hallway wall. “It’s almost as if your mother won’t leave my son's side and Jeno won’t leave yours. I don’t believe I’ve seen you once without him around ever since..”

“Ever since we broke up?”

“We didn’t break up.” Johnny’s fast to correct. “We were never together, not you and I anyway.” He waves off, more sluggish in appearance now as you step closer and take in his tired expression. “I should have left you alone.”

“What do you me—“

“You should get going, Jeno’s been waiting outside for a while now.” Johnny cuts you off, motioning to the front door. “Probably getting annoyed knowing him.”

“Did you ever love me?” You know you shouldn’t, but Johnny’s right; if Jeno’s not plastered to your back then your mom’s hovering around with her nose deep in your business. Over the last few weeks cuddled up next to Jeno wide awake as he softly snores you can’t stop your mind from spinning, asking questions you never received answers to.

“You still have to ask?” His shoulders fall, slumping further against the wall, hooded eyes falling to his feet. “Of course I did.. I still do. I always will.”

“Then why did yo—“

“What’s taking so long!” Jeno busts through the front door, pausing with his knuckles turning white where he grips the handle hard enough to break off. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Nothing.” Johnny says casually, shoving off the wall to stand up straight. “As we agreed to, nothing at all.” He nods in Jeno’s direction, returning to his usual stature of living without acknowledging your existence, not even a ‘goodbye’ wave before exiting the room.

Jeno grabs the crook of your elbow tugging you back into his chest hard enough to have you stumbling, gasping out of shock. “Was he talking to you?!”

“Huh? Ow! You’re hurting me!” Tugging your arm away at the same time Jeno releases as if you’ve burned off the skin off his palm sends you tumbling forward, saved by his arm swiftly coming to wrap around your waist; eyes bouncing around full of concern and confusion.

“Sorry! I mean..” Jeno’s teeth grind together, softly squeezing you in his hold. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to..”

“Okay.. is everything alright?”

He frowns, ducking in to press his chin against your shoulder, eyelashes dragging down to the side as his eyes fall and lose their usual sparkle. “Yeah, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay Jeno.. let’s get going, yeah?”

“Yeah yeah.” He nods, pecking your skin before moving back to get the door for you. “I didn’t think he was home, swore I heard him leave earlier. Thought he’d be gone for the night fucking some whore.”

Jeno leads you to his car, missing the way you flinch at the mention of Johnny’s reoccurring activities, still sensitive as you try to process the answer you’ve been looking for.

I always will. That’s what Johnny said.. but there was something else.

Jeno’s driving, drumming on the steering wheel to calm his anxiety, the image of your back facing him with his fathers lazy eyes on you as you stood much too close together won’t leave his mind. He’s sick of it really, fighting his own father for the same girl; brainstorming new ways to threaten him. Even breaking into the old man’s home office to look through his patients files for some dirt, completely illegal but what about this predicament isn’t at this point.

“Back there..” you break his thoughts, clearing your throat.

“Huh?” Jeno glances, shifting his tense shoulders to relax and lean back in his seat. “Back there?”

“Your dad.. he said something, about ‘as we agreed to’ I think..” you say cautiously, picking at your cuticle. “Did you guys ever talk? About.. us?”

Jeno steps down on the brake abruptly, hurling your chest forward restrained by the seat belt that tightens up around you. “What?”

At least the lights red, you think, rubbing at your sore chest. “...Ow..”

Jeno sighs, more annoyed now, tapping the steering wheel with more aggression. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Things have been weird, awkward I guess.. ever since..”

“Since he dumped you?” He sneers, pushing down on the gas pedal too hard and revving off down the street, luckily empty at this late hour.

“We weren’t together, not like.. not like how you and I are. I mean—“

“He took advantage of you..” Jeno shakes his head, zipping through intersections without bothering to slow down or stop. “He took advantage of you, and you let him.”

“That’s not—“

“It’s okay.” Hitting the brakes he stops, pulling into a parking spot with ease, using one hand to steer the wheel into place. “It’s okay.” Jeno repeats again, as if to reassure himself more than anything. “My dad, that fucking asshole..”

Pulling the shift into park, he leans back again, the back of his head slamming against the seat frustrated. “It’s not your fault. When I was a kid he used to psychoanalyze me too, used that shit to manipulate me.”

Johnny didn’t manipulate me, your lip twitches to say, folding your hands together as you purse your lips tight.

“He blamed me, you know— for my mom leaving..” Jeno’s tongue drags inside of his cheek, wandering eyes gleaming more beneath the night sky breaking through the windshield. “I never stood a chance against him honestly, even now I can’t trust he’ll leave you alone.”

“He does leave me alone, Jeno.”

“Yeah.” He pauses, turning halfway in his seat to face you, head tilted as he takes in your confusion. “I told him to leave you alone, is that a problem?”

“..and he agreed? Is that what he meant?” You ask wearily, picking up over time that Jeno can’t keep eye contact when he lies, becoming shifty and distracted as he mumbles.

He blinks slowly, tongue poking between his lips in thought without tearing away from your gaze. “I told him that I really like you, and for once in my life I want to have a chance at something genuine.”

Jeno’s playful demeanor you’ve become acquainted with(although still perplexing at times) seems to disappear the more he speaks, concerning you enough to take a hold of his hand. “Hey..”

He mumbles something hard to make out, sinking against his seat. “I hate seeing him around you, I know you don’t see it the way I do but.. he used you.”

Ouch.

How could Jeno so easily ruin your delusional high of believing his father had actual feelings for you with just a few words. It’s not worth discussing, not with him, he’d never see it the way you do.

Understandably so, to him Johnny may as well be the scum of the earth while he consumed your entire world, day to night; continuing to daydream of the future you could have with your boyfriend's dad. The idea alone fucked up enough to make you nauseous now, having to swallow the bitter taste of bile down. As sick as it is, Johnny had made a home for himself in your heart.. at least the parts Jeno hadn’t managed to infiltrate.

Half of you really contemplated choosing stupidity, ruin your chances of getting dicked down tonight. Perhaps spice it up, Jeno had become.. soft as of late, but the distress across his pretty face quelled your hunger for drama, for now.

“So, what you’re saying is..” you bend in closer, jerking his chin up to look at you, hand squeezing around his. “You really like me?”

Jeno’s smile returns, huffing out a laugh, hiding half of his face in the seat. “Fighting my dad for you wasn’t enough? I have to say it too?”

Shrugging, you lean in closer, biting at his earlobe. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear once in a while after years of thinking you hated me.”

“Well..” the sound of keys jingling turns your attention to Jeno’s hand coming up between you, eyebrow lifted suggestively. “I think you like it, actually— I know you love it when I fuck you like I hate you.”

“You’re gonna fuck me in the arcade?” You glance outside, ‘High Scores’ lights up the hood of his car, the rest of the street dim and empty compared to the bright neon light flickering above you. “Does Haechan know you’re risking his job to have sex uninterrupted?”

Jeno laughs, opening his door to get out and grab yours, the nice gestures still taking awhile to get used to.(This is the same guy that made you get out of his car and walk to school just to not be seen with you afterall.)

“Most he said is to not leave a mess behind and make sure I lock up when we’re done here.” Helping you out he pushes your back to the passenger door, gaze back to the excited playful one you prefer. “I can always fuck you here instead.”

Even now the thrill of secrecy reminds you of him... the times he’d pull you into the backseat of his SUV to steal a kiss; softly pecking your lips while mumbling that he needed a little taste of you everyday, thumbing at his bottom lip while he sat across from you during dinner and stole glances at you. The craving for more always lingering.

“Right here? Where anyone can see?” You ask, pretending to be shocked with wide eyes and clutching your chest. “You think I’m some whore you can just fuck on the street?”

Jeno bites down on his tongue, smirking and grabbing your hips. “I knew this dress would look good on you.” He hikes up the sides around your hips, lifting you up onto the hood to sit and make space between your thighs. “I like it when you listen to me.”

It’s little things like this that heat up your chest, stinging from within between guilt and a yearning need. The twisted part of your mind consumed by the thought that Jeno’s so similar to his dad, just younger, a little naive, but he’s definitely not as dumb as you had assumed.

“Do you think I look pretty?” You ask coyly, pulling his hips in closer with a tight squeeze of your thighs. Jeno wraps around your waist, face only an inch away from yours now, his tone lowering to a deep rasp.

“You’re always pretty. You know when I brought you around my friends I had to stop myself from putting Jaemin in a headlock with the shit he was saying.” His hands roam lower as he goes on, smoothing up the sides of your thighs to play with the straps of your underwear. “Had to remind myself that they don’t know about us.. yet.”

“Yet?”

Jeno hums, gathering your underwear to one side to swipe his thumb between your folds; his cheeks rising upon making contact with your wet entrance. “Once your mom gets off my ass it’ll be easier for us. I guess I’m still worried.”

He mumbles with lowered eyelids, grabbing onto your inner thigh to spread you open further. Not quite lying, not quite telling you the truth. “You still don’t trust me, right?

The skin between his eyebrows wrinkles slightly, long eyelashes fanning across the tops of his cheeks. “Seeing you with him today, I feel..”

“You can be honest with me baby.”

Jeno nods, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening, smearing two fingers over the outside of your entrance haphazardly. “I’m annoyed, I’m mad. I hate that he still gets to see you— to see you look pretty for me.”

“We didn’t talk.” You lie, cupping his face to smooth away the stress tightening his jaw. “He was just passing by.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” Jeno asks slowly, also familiar with the way you bite your lip when you lie. Even the smallest movement of biting one corner is enough to give you away.

“I’m not lying.” You say, tugging your lip in under your teeth with a smile, quickly moving to kiss his nose before he can continue interrogating you. Jeno’s eyes drop shut swallowing back his disappointed sigh, hand sliding away to grip your thighs and pull your core closer to his crotch.

“I know we don’t talk about this,” his face dips into the crook of your neck to hide, breath fanning down your throat mixing in with the chilled night air. “..and I know I can’t ask you to ignore him, we all live together..”

“Jeno” you say, pulling back to grab a hold of his face again. “We live together, you realize that? It’s always you, me.. and my mom unfortunately.”

He smiles at that, playfully biting at your thumb poking against the corner of his mouth. “I’m not used to my dad actually doing something nice for me.” Other than funding him with money, which hasn’t been the case as of late. Jeno considers that maybe you were the exchange, no more allowance but hey- I’ll let you have the girl.

Fixing his wind swept bangs to uncover his forehead, you wonder what exactly was said in this agreement; had Johnny really given up on you so easily? How could he say he still loves you and watch another man, let alone his own son, prance around in his face holding and kissing you? It didn’t make any sense..

Jeno shivers, smoothing your dress back down and nodding toward the Arcade. “It’s getting cold, wanna head inside and play?”

He helps you off the hood, taking a hold of your hand and using his other to unlock the front door. “Oh? You know, I can kick your ass at Pac-man.”

Jeno pulls you in, locking the door back up, the inside mostly dark aside from a few strips of neon lights bordering the ceiling. “Is that all you know how to play?” He laughs, drawing you further in with both hands taking a hold of yours. “We both know I can eat you up easily.”

Coming to a stop he flicks on a switch, the room coming to life with lights and mixtures of video game music from different machines. Most of them classic vintage games, a few pinball machines and air hockey table. Nothing much, but a gamers safe haven nonetheless.

“There’s Street Fighter, Ninja Turtles, Super Mario Brothers, Frogger..” Jeno walks around keeping you by his side, chuckling at your lost expression as you look at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. “Pac-man it is, winner takes it all yeah?”

“What are we playing for?” You grumble, feigning annoyance because this is not what you had in mind when Jeno texted you about sneaking out together.

“If I win, I get to do whatever I want with you.” He beams, eyebrows raising up and down before inserting coins into the game.

“What if I win?”

“If you win..” pouting his lips, Jeno sways in thought, snapping his fingers. “I get to do whatever I want with you.” He says proudly, displaying all of his pearly white perfect teeth.

“Don’t you already?” You say in an annoyed tone, nudging against his side and grabbing onto a joystick.

“There is one thing, actually.” Jeno lowers his gaze scanning down your figure, eyes ending on your backside. “I believe you know what I want.”

“Right now?” You have to splutter a bit, nervously squeezing your thighs together. “Won’t it hurt though?”

He laughs, barely, more of an act to stop himself from replying with ‘That’s the point.’

“No baby, it’ll feel good.” Jeno sticks out his pinky, jutting his pink bottom lip out covered with a sheen of spit. “I prom.”

“Prom?” You question, distracted by how enticing his mouth looks pouting at you paired with a wide glossy gaze.

“Half a promise,” he winks, locking your pinkies together. “It might hurt actually.”

“Jeno!”

“Winner takes it all!” He laughs, returning to focus on starting your game of Pac-man.

“Jeno, what the fuck! This isn’t fair!” You panic, immediately falling behind as his hand seems to blur and you crash into another ghost.

“What can I say? I’m a pro.” He says nonchalantly, the smirk painting his lips growing. “You know what else I’m a pro at eating?”

“Jeno!” You splutter, distracted by the wink he shoots at you as another sound of disappointment blasts from the game's speakers, on your last leg of life attempting to catch up to your opponent nearing the end.

“Winners win.” Jeno’s arms lift up proudly, boasting his victory with flexed biceps. “Losers lose.”

He keeps cheering, arms pumping and pretending to wave at a crowd as the game congratulates his victory. “You didn’t tell me you were good at this game!”

“Well, you said you could kick my ass.” He shrugs, grabbing your wrists and dragging you toward him. “It seems I will be the one beating your ass up instead.”

Jeno taps the pout that’s formed on your lips, disguising how irritated he feels in actuality. Tapping your bottom lip, he hums and leans back against a wall. “You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”

“Why do you keep asking?” You lilt, tilting your head suspiciously as you reach for his neck. Jeno snaps away too fast, quickly averting his gaze aside before you can catch his disappointment; his palms finding purchase around your waist and manhandling you against the wall.

“No reason,” he whispers, trapping your earlobe between his teeth and knocking his hips along your backside. “Don’t forget who won.”

The sound of his belt unlatching scratches at the back of your skull drowning out the arcade noises around you; with a bicep locking your arms together he wraps it around your elbows. The restraint tightens immediately, locking your arms in place behind your back. “Does it hurt, baby?”

‘Does it hurt badly?’

Pressing your cheek to the wall you shake, quietly muttering ��no’, the churn in your stomach confusing you with arousal and guilt.

“That’s too bad..” pulling up your dress to bunch at your waist, Jeno slaps your ass softly, stroking his fingers over the roundness of your hips, dipping beneath the juncture between meaty flesh meeting thigh. “I know how much you love when it hurts.”

“Je—“

“Shhh.” Biting down on your earlobe, he tugs until you squeal, knees knocking together from the pain shooting through your ear. “See how you’re so fucking loud?”

Jeno sinks down into a squat gripping the sides of your ass and squeezing. His palms feel hot, heavy, digging his thin hard fingers into your cheeks. He pulls you open watching the thin string of your underwear fail to cover your holes completely, breath suctioning loudly between spit when he hisses and presses forward digging his nose against your barely concealed hole.

“Fuck!” You bite down, struggling to stay still on your toes digging deeper into the sole of your heels, his nose dragging up and down between releasing groans and deep breaths. The moans vibrating between the back of your thighs playing as a soundtrack for his disgusting euphoric high, leaving his mouth popped open, teeth catching onto bits of flesh hidden inside of you.

“So good.” Jeno laps at your rim, soaking up the thin piece of underwear there, teeth biting down and pulling away enough to watch your hole flutter. Slapping at your ass with a firmer hand he tugs the string off to one side, leaning forward to press his pouty lips against your hole. Mouth hot and breathy as he stays there tracing his words against your opening. “Want me to fill your little tight virgin asshole up so fucking bad, just look at the way you’re opening up for me already.”

As if on command slick drips down your inner thigh, rim convulsing around nothing. He snickers, tapping the tip of his finger against it. “So nasty, who taught you to be this fucking nasty huh?”

Oh.

Your eyes wrinkle together, hips jumping back in search of something wet, something to quell your need.

A succession of hard slaps stills your movement, ass stinging under his palm smoothing down, jiggling your cheek against his face. “Can’t even stop yourself, can you?”

“Please…do something.. please.”

Begging, you’re always such a beggar. Jeno can’t stand it, how your writhe and whimper, so desperate to get fucked. Can’t stand how pretty you sound when you beg, when you shout his name with your eyes facing the back of your skull. He can’t stand the way his cock jumps in his pants, twitching against his phone like a reminder.

“Ask for it.” His face rubs side to side, engulfed in your aroma, nose burying in and out of your hole teasingly. “Be a good girl, ask.”

“Jeno.. please,” sniffling, you have to shut your eyes to keep your mind blank. The similarities between two different men sit on your chest, sinking into the hollow, breaking down the bones and muscle protecting your heart. “Please baby.”

“Please what?” Pulling out his phone, Jeno double checks the silent button, hitting record and focusing on your ass sticking out; lower back making the shot from the way you dip in and arch out.

“Please, please fuck me…”

“Where?” He questions, tone falling deep, raspy, scratching up his vocal chords. “Tell me where.”

“My..” breath gets caught in your throat, hole clenching up as embarrassment flows down your face. Breaking out into a whimper at the first sign of moisture reaching the rims of your eyes. “My ass.. please fuck my ass.”

“That’s right,” Jeno groans, smoothing the pad of his finger around your wrinkled hole. “No one will ever fuck you the way I fuck you.”

Spit lands on your rim, the last shot he captures before sending the video off to a text message with ‘Asshole’.

‘Only for me.’

Pocketing his phone again, he focuses on collecting your wetness, swirling it together with his spit. The sounds of your needy whines only egg him on to work fast, lapping at the skin around his fingers until your knees bend and you shove back against his face.

Jeno contemplates for a second, mindlessly prodding the tips of two fingers in and out of your pulsating rim, your wanton cries driving him mad the longer he teases.

It shouldn’t hurt, but you deserve for it to hurt, because you’re a fucking liar, because you’d rather lie to him and allow his mind to wander.

Before he can shake away the worry, his phone buzzes, distracting him for a moment before pressing into your hole to keep you occupied.

‘Ask your little girlfriend about our conversation you rudely interrupted. I wouldn’t be so sure if I was you.’

Jeno can’t believe how fast this fucking asshole replies, nearly crushing his phone and jabbing his fingers into you roughly at the same time.

“Ahh!”

“Shut up.” He growls, shoving his phone away, proceeding to jackhammer two fingers inside your ass. A wad of spit lands around them adding a small amount of lubricant, his roughness forcing your ass to shake around the pressure.

“Baby please, ah!” Struggling to stay still, your toes pinch together, pushing your forehead against the wall with another cry. Tears stain down your cheeks the more he ignores you, muscles rippling up his forearm beneath pulsing large veins. “Please, slow..slow down!”

Another growl is all you hear in response, dipping in to lavv at the tough skin constricting around his fingers, his free hand reaching between your thighs to pinch at your clit and distract your mind from the pain.

Jeno’s ears fill up from the heat surrounding him, forcing another digit inside your hole and groaning at the visual of how obscenely stretched you are around him. Still managing to push in past your resistance, his stare burns, stuck on the little flex and pinch your ass gives with each push inside.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

A startled broken moan slips out of you, caught off guard by how deep, near demonic his vibrato’s fallen to. The surprise has your hips canting back full of fear, excitement, Jeno’s fingers digging deep into your ass pushing against your walls.

“Relax, you’ll make this hurt more than it has to.”

The glide of his nose pressing to your neglected hole has you jolting up, legs pin straight the second his tongue flicks at your clit. His hand reaches around grasping your thigh, strong hold pushing you to sit down on his face. He tongues at your bundle of nerves viciously, nose suffocated by the ridiculous amount of slick pouring out of you, the majority of it dripping down past the consistent small dip in and out of you, trickling a pathway down his thick neck, bobbing and struggling to breathe with his airway full of arousal.

“Ah fuck! I’m close!” Full of urgency you scream, hands twitching like crazy to grab onto something, anything to help you stay attached to reality. He only speeds up, the fat of his tongue dragging along your swollen clit roughly, powerfully working you into a faster frenzy until your thighs quake.

Jeno’s relentless, tongue blurring against your clit with speed, nose stuffed as deep as possible, the three digits curling up and pulling. Pain and pleasure hit a new high, bending your neck back into a deep arch as your climax hits and erupts hard enough to choke him between the wet squirt and weight of your lower half coming down.

Slapping down on your upper thigh, Jeno gags, coughing from the fluid filling his nostrils, fingers crooking up before sliding out and smearing the mess of spit down your leg.

“Come here.” He drags your lifeless body down to his lap, switching to hold his weight against the wall, lips landing against yours in a mess of heat. The drool pouring from your mouth blends with his spit coated lips vocalizing the hunger of your mouths fighting for dominance. “Wanna..”

Jeno pants, licking at every crevice of skin and tongue like a thirsty puppy, eyes glazed over as he gazes at your already wrecked face. “..see you, wanna see you.”

“Uh huh,” nodding you wrap around his neck, forehead landing against his cheek lazily as he positions you over his length. The whole act feels dirty, a memory you’ll recall someday; how silly it is to be a teenager having to sneak around just to get laid(all because you fucked your boyfriend’s dad). “See you.” You repeat breathless, cock dragging between your folds drenched by wet arousal that won’t stop leaking.

“Pussy dripping wet for me, know why?” Jeno’s arm squeezes around your middle, hot mouth dragging up your jaw to whisper in your ear. “Cause you’re a fucking slut, and all sluts know how to do is take cock.”

The cry you let out shaking your head with denial gets lost, Jeno capturing your bottom lip in a rough kiss and thrusting up to fill you halfway. He grunts, pushing your body lower to bury the rest of his length inside and swallow down your cries. “Slutty fuck hole.”

Eyelashes flutter along your cheek, hot tightness wrapped around his size drawing deep guttural moans out. Hips jerk upward, lodging the entirety of his length inside of you. He’s overbearing, sucking the moans out of your mouth, slapping down on your ass to move and ride his length despite your cries.

“Feel good?” Jeno’s bicep flexes, snaked around your waist tighter than a boa constrictor, making it harder to breathe with the incessant ramming of his hips fucking you up and down his size.

“S-so so so good,” you sigh between tears, scratching your nails through the back of his scalp and sweaty nape. “So good inside.”

He wants to be mean, wants to pull you off him, throw you down on the ground and fuck you like nothing but a useless whore; but he can’t. Mentally cursing himself out, he shifts to lay you down, throwing your thigh around his hip for leverage to grind into you, eyes burning over your dazed expression.

Pretty.

Kissing the backs of his teeth he fucks into you faster, chasing his own need to get off without much concern for yours. This isn’t about you, this isn’t about your glazed gaze, parted swollen lips, the tear tracks rolling down past your jaw following the dips of collarbone rising and falling at a rapid pace, breasts bouncing near out of your dress with each beating thrust.

Jeno feels crazed, hot, throat burning from the inside out from the endless groans tearing through his chest. Bending forward, his weight throttles into you, jostling you to slide up. Palms attaching you to the ground with a vicious chokehold. Teeth grit and grind, wrinkling the skin on his cheeks and forehead, cock fucking in and out, in and out, the loud squelch of wet somehow louder than your pleasured sounds combined.

“M’gonna..” Jeno gulps, swallowing the wads of spit and drool collecting at the sides of his tongue. “Fuck you, fuck you all night. Fuck your ass open, break you.”

Unsure he can even last with how tight you grip around him, Jeno pulls out, shushing the loud whine you let out, pouting and crying harder about how close you were. “Shh..” slapping down between your thighs, he licks at his lips hungrily, entertained by the way you twitch and cry, still lifting your hips for another slap on your pussy. “Turn around.”

Knowing you can’t do much with your arms constrained, he manhandles you onto your front, noting how your flesh folds over the leather belt, sure enough to leave marks behind the more you struggle. He pulls at the leather, shoving your dress to the top of your back completely bunched up, wrinkling the nice material that someone else would have stripped off of you gently..

“Mine.” Jeno swipes his fingers around your exposed rim, lightly laughing at how you jerk forward and arch out more. Cock slapping down between your ass with a hiss. “So pretty like this..”

He’s done bothering to prep you, on the brink of insanity listening to your shattered whimpers, the exhausted, depraved little way you repeat his name. “So mine.” Resting his length on your rim, he reaches lower, scooping a wad of wetness globbed at your entrance, the only extra he’ll spare you, smearing the mess of it up and down his size.

He presses to your rim, biting down on his lip hard enough to break skin and compress the growl trying to escape. “God, fuck.”

Jeno thinks he can’t breathe for a moment, sinking in through the insane tightness, his stomach sucked empty, raggedly inhaling the more inch by inch disappears inside of you.

He thrust shallowly, experimenting with short and fast grinds until every bit of his size can no longer be seen, eyebrows crushed together as he struggles to breathe and crashes a harsh slap down on your ass. The growl escapes similar to a feral animal on the run, animalistic much like each barreling thrust colliding with your ass.

Jeno loses it from there, a string of curses running off his tongue between groans, hammering his hips forward, his free hand reaching for one of your shoulders to press your chest down. The extra hold only enforcing more power behind each slam, burying his cock deeper than you can even begin to fathom. “Gonna fuck your ass all the time now.”

“Hurts! Hurts so much!” You moan, stuttering between each syllable, arching deeper for him to fuck faster.

“You love it.” He bends forward, chest pressed down on your back knocking out your air flow. His other hand trailing from your hip to slap against your cunt, fingers pressing down on your clit and rubbing in fluid motions of figure eights.

“Ah fuck! Baby!”

Jeno knows you’re close, tightening up around his cock making it harder for him to shove in past your resistance. Pussy quivering the more he plays with your clit. “Yeah, just like that.” He pants, thirsty like a dog, tongue wagging out drooling. “Fucking tight, so fucking tight.”

He starts fucking at an unreal speed, rapidly ripping past each clench. The growls behind you akin to a beast, sucking bits of your soul with each thrust bottoming out inside of your ass.

“Jeno!” It’s barely a whimper, too empty headed to process anything beyond the heat coiling down your stomach, toes curling against your heels, the cool wet smeared down your thighs.

A pinch at your clit has you leaking, squirting around nothing and clamping down on the cock filling your ass, Jeno’s hand drenched by your climax pouring to the floor around his fingers.

He can’t believe it, you really came from this, asshole stuffed to the brim with cock for the first time. The thought alone tightens up his balls, jackhammering against your limp frame, falling into sloppy mismatched thrusts until the heat in his chest snaps. Cock crammed down to the hilt jerking and pulsing inside your warm heat. Sticky and obscene, the thick milky cream collecting at the base of his length with each last pitiful thrust.

Jeno finishes up, throat visibly bobbing as he takes in your backside covered in the excess cum, dragging his wet cock on your heated flesh. The white liquid gliding down your soft skin, ass gaped and ruined, his arm reaches around patting for his pants in search of one thing.

Jeno types with one thumb, quickly filming a clip of his hand sweeping up the back of your thigh, rubbing his release into your skin, the last shot ending on your holes.

The text finishes sending, a pleased grin lazily fitting his face before leaning down to kiss the middle of your back.

He mumbles mindlessly against your damp skin, imagining his recipient's face opening the message, pleased by the thought of his father’s enraged face.

‘Only mine.’

#lee jeno smut #jeno smut #nct jeno #neopuppy fics #nct dream smut #nct smut #lee jeno #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction

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genshin-scenarios · 5 months

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A Flower Made of Playing Cards (Lyney x Reader)

Summary: A highschool idol AU commissioned by a very kind and patient anon!

It's mostly inspired by this headcanon post, where Lyney spends his civilian life starting to pine after you (a classmate) while keeping his idol life as 'Felis' a secret.

Content warnings: reader is implied to be at a height where Lyney can spin them under his arm?? That's pretty much it! Still gender neutral as usual

Preparing for the Stage:

When Lyney was first asked what he wanted to base his idol concept on, he decided on the magic of luck — something unpredictable and frankly, he wouldn’t bet on most of the time — but if a black cat of all things could disguise itself as a charming magician who made dreams come true, Lyney thought that could be the truth threaded within his performances.

His luck in gaining a family as supportive as his own. His luck in being chosen out of many candidates to debut, and…

Suppose a bit of rotten luck could play into his concept too. The kinds where props or staff go missing on the day of his nationwide tour, and miracles come into play to get him out of a tight spot.

But like a cat landing on its feet, Lyney — as Felis — would always come through in the end with a smile.

There is comfort in the mysterious and ethereal. The audience places their faith in idols to remain as an untouchable being, talented and charming till the end; while the idol repeats their tricks and illusions, learning them down to a science of well-orchestrated plans.

With the right people to support him behind the curtains, Lyney is sure there is little he can’t do.

But at the end of the day, Lyney is still just a teenager. And when faced with you, who’d unknowingly puppeteered his heartstrings to skip at the quirk of your lips, eyes crinkling with laughter from your seat a few rows away…

No one said that stars couldn’t fall in love. In fact, the ways they do so might be more beautifully devastating than ever. And Lyney is nothing if not someone who burns as brightly as he shines onstage.

On the other side:

You’ve always thought of Lyney as a regular classmate; one who gets along with others but otherwise keeps to himself. And sure, he’s also really cute, but Lyney’s always just been a nice presence to hang around with, especially after you learned he has a knack for magic tricks and was willing to teach you a few, skilled fingers sifting through a deck of cards.

You’re starting to think that Lyney’s not just a friend to you anymore.

Despite your best efforts to keep your feelings at bay, you’re more than aware that the nerves building up in your stomach whenever he’s near spells out a crush. As you get to know him, Lyney’s somehow went from cute to pretty, and you know you're not crazy when you notice his quiet charm shifting into something more extroverted.

There are no seating plans during the breaks between classes — particularly if it’s this week, where your science teacher has packed off to accompany a sports team to a tournament — so you spend the hour finishing your substitute work with Lyney by your side. Except once you’re both done, he takes to scrolling through his phone and showing you the posts on his feed every now and then, and you swear his chair has been shifting closer and closer every minute.

With quiet words, Lyney leans towards you with a quirk to his lips. You wonder if he realizes how dangerous this is to your wellbeing.

“This cafe’s menu is themed after wizards! See the cauldron?”

“Maybe you could get a part-time job there as an entertainer.” You suggest.

Lyney hums. “But I only like to perform magic for my friends. Which totals to three people, including you.”

“Are the other two Lynette and Freminet?”

“Bingo!”

“I don’t know if your sister would be happy to hear that.” She’d probably say he sounds like a loner.

“Nevermind if that makes her cringe — she’s stuck with me anyways. But I’d like to think at least Freminet would be happy.”

“He’s a sweet kid,” You try not to get distracted by Lyney’s hair tickling your shoulder. “Maybe you should take him there with you.”

“Just between us, I think Freminet would be more comfortable if you were there too.” Lyney shrugs, eyes meeting yours with a clarity that tells you this is a genuine offer. “He’s a bit more chatty around you, which is saying a lot.”

“Maybe that’s just because you’re too much for him?”

“Whatever do you mean? I’m nothing if not quiet, introverted, shy…”

“Shy.” You repeat in disbelief. You might’ve believed that once upon a time, but certainly not now. “A shy person wouldn’t offer to teach a stranger how to do card tricks.”

“Maybe I was just enchanted by you.”

“You avoided me unless we were talking about magic.” You remind him, to which Lyney bumps his shoulder against yours with a huff. “Maybe at that time you were a little shy, but I highly doubt you’d be like that towards your brother.”

“I’ve let you talk too much to my siblings…” He’s pouting. “Your impression of me is ruined now.”

“There’d be nothing to ruin you with if you haven’t done anything.” You tap your chin. “Is there another big secret that I should ask them about?”

You don’t notice, but Lyney’s eyes widen before he tears his gaze away from you, trying to stop the blush rising on his cheeks. If he wasn’t sitting so close, he’d probably slap his face to snap out of it.

Which secret? His crush — or idol career?

Just the thought of you knowing about his feelings is enough to make him combust, but the idea of you realizing he was the idol Felis? You’ve already told Lyney you weren’t that interested in idols since they were real people, compared to 2D characters who you could headcanon about to your hearts’ content.

A part of him is relieved this means that if you fell for him, it’d be for himself. But another part feels like it’s a waste of the possibilities floating around his head; what if he surprised you by inviting you to a concert, then watched as the understanding enters your face when he steps onstage? What if he dedicates one of his performances to you, or asks you to sneak out with him after a show?

He’s even wearing just one side of his earphones so there’s an opening to offer you the other; it’s less about the music at this point, and instead the little gestures that tell him he has a chance.

He’d take any interaction if it has to do with you, but only within the safety of his own home would Lyney allow himself to daydream — his imagination causing a burn on his cheeks.

Lynette tells him he’s been reading too many mangas, but an idol can dream. Lyney just hadn’t expected you to become one of said dreams so fast.

Rehearsals:

Somehow, practicing how he’d confess to you is harder than any other rehearsal Lyney’s done. Perhaps it’s because he knows he looks like an idiot, speaking to the wall-length mirror after he gave up on Lynette and Freminet as helpers.

…The things he’d like to say to you remain private, anyways. There’s no way Lyney could bring himself to sound so sappy to anyone’s face but yours.

Seeing as it’s off-season, the only idol work Lyney has is related to magazine and advertisements shoots. It’s nothing much compared to when he first did an overseas tour, so he has the chance to steal some time for himself — going for a coffee run after he dons a mask and large sweater, then a cap which hides most of his hair.

Today Lyney had to model for a limited-edition pocky series. It’s strawberry and something-flavored, so the dress and makeup people had the bright idea to add a ribbon to his hair. It’s fanservice, it’s cute, and Lyney doesn’t think much of it seeing as he can’t see himself, until he spots you outside of the cafe where he’s waiting for his order.

He’s always been light on his feet, but Lyney doesn’t think he’s ever ducked into a corner so fast, quieting himself in an attempt to become invisible.

You haven’t seen him without his glasses before, so maybe you wouldn’t…?

“Order for Felix!”

Of course it’s his turn now that you’re here. He considers taking off the ribbon before thinking better of it, hoping it isn't visibly poking out from underneath his cap.

“...Here!” Lyney tries not to cringe as he goes up to the counter. On most days he gives the cashier a random name — sometimes ‘Felix’ because it could be his idol alias read wrongly — but right now it almost gives him a heart attack when he hears his not-name, because it’s followed by you accidentally bumping into him and apologizing for almost spilling his coffee.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“It’s alright, nothing’s spilled.” Lyney realizes too late that you might recognise his voice, and starts to speak in a muffled tenor. “No worries at all. Thank you for your concern.”

“...Felix, was it?” You look at him in confusion. “Is your throat okay?”

Before you can look at him any closer, Lyney’s turned away from you and started to speed-walk out of the cafe like his life depends on it.

“Perfectly fine, enjoy your day!” He says a bit louder to not appear too rude. He’s quite sure his ears are red as he makes his retreat, and by the time he makes enough distance between himself and the cafe, Lyney realizes something.

He didn’t even get to hear your coffee order!

Back to your side:

Out of all strange incidents that could happen over the weekend, you didn’t expect an encounter with some ‘Felix’ guy to linger in your mind until now.

To be honest, it was less about the stranger and just the ribbon you spotted in his hair when he ran away. As you listen to Lyney ramble about a magic trick he’s figured out recently, you watch the way his ash-blond locks sway with every motion.

…That pink ribbon from the stranger's head might look cute on Lyney. With how the breeze is playing with his hair, you can imagine the ends of the ribbon floating, threatening to fall loose and fly off the school rooftop you’re loitering at.

Lunch finished and forgotten, Lyney stands up as he’s reminded of something. He spins on his heel to look at you, hands linked behind his back.

“You know, over the weekend I saw a dance go viral.”

“The one on tiktok?”

“Yep! Want to try it?”

Lyney’s not usually this energetic, but it’s not so out-of-character that you’d start to find it odd. Instead, you’d like to preserve the easy smile on his lips while you still can — it’s a rare sight to see him this excited, steps light and gaze playful.

“I’m not a good dancer, though…” You hesitate, before Lyney comes closer to pull you to your feet with both hands — and how could you say no when your fingers are still loosely linked between you?

Lyney’s cheery demeanor slips into something more calm. With a content hum, he takes a small step away from you and positions his feet. You mimic him as he explains each move.

“Okay, so now you have to do a turn from this side.”

“How should I when you’re still holding onto me?”

“Like this,” Lyney urges you to turn, and as naturally as momentum brings you, he lets go of one of your hands to twirl you under his arm. “See? It’s easy!”

“I’m quite sure the dance didn’t involve a partner.” You can’t keep your smile down, peering up at Lyney when you stand in front of him again. “Trying to set a new trend, are we?”

“Only if you’ll let me record us. I won’t post it anywhere though, since my manager might get mad at me.”

“Your manager at work?” You ask, confusion furrowing your brow. “Did you accidentally sign an extra clause or something? They shouldn’t be able to control how you act outside of your shift!” Lyney bursts into laughter, earning a light hit on the shoulder from you. “Hey! This is serious — what kind of part time job did you get yourself into?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a regular side-gig.” Lyney calms down, expression dusted with a pink blush as he looks at you fondly. “I’m a bit of a public figure, though I don’t normally dress that way when I’m at school.”

“Well then, Mr Popular.” You play along. “What should I be calling you instead then, when I see you during your job?”

“...Most people call me Felis, if that rings any bells.” He glances away. “It’d be pretty embarrassing if you didn’t recognise my name. But I do have to sing, dance, and…”

“You’re an idol.” Your eyes widened, the words spoken so quietly, you had to repeat them just to make sure they didn’t slip away. “You’re that idol, aren’t you? The sparkly-looking guy on the billboards!”

“Not so loud!” Lyney hushes you, grabbing your shoulders in reflex before stopping. He clears his throat, taking a step away. You would’ve minded the distance more, if it were not for the sight of Lyney bashful in front of you. “...It’s a bit of a secret, just so I can still live peacefully as a civilian. I asked Lynette and Freminet to make sure no one could overhear us here. They might be as nervous as me about your reaction, I’m sure.”

“I find that a little hard to believe.” If anything, they might be more worried about Lyney recuperating. You speak tentatively, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Now that I’m checking properly though, you do have the same look.”

It takes everything in Lyney to not squirm at your touch, and it’s even more terrifying that he wants to keep you there. “I would hope so, seeing as we’re the same person.”

“I bet Felis doesn’t spin his fans under his arm,” You quirk a cheeky smile. “Unless there’s something else you have to tell me?”

“Of course not, that’s only reserved for the best of…” Lyney trails off, the word ‘friend’ dying on his tongue. Not that you aren’t one, but— “I thought it’d be important to tell you about my job, before I ask you the real question I have on my mind.”

Giving him a nod, you tell him you’re all ears.

“...If you’re free next week, would you want to go somewhere together? As a date, I mean.” He lets the question sit in the air. “I understand if not, of course, whether it be because you just see me as a friend or find the whole idol thing too much—”

“I’ll make sure I’m free.” It takes a moment for your answer to register in Lyney’s head before his eyes light up. “Rather, you might have to make sure I don’t mess anything up for you. Like… should I call you by another name? Do I also need to wear a disguise?” If you had a net right now, it’d be very helpful in catching the butterflies in your stomach, to keep you focused on what you’re saying.

Just you would be perfect. “As long as we dress casually, it should be fine.” Lyney’s smile is contagious, now that he’s settling into the fact you said yes. “Sunday afternoon?”

“Sounds good!” You’re cut off by the bell. Remembering that you have PE and haven’t changed yet, you curse under your breath and quickly apologize to Lyney. “I’ll see you later— or text, if not!”

By the time your sentence ends, the door to the rooftop has shut, and Lyney is left standing with the tiniest of smiles, looking at the ground to try and control his expression before his siblings can bombard him with questions.

Lyney has never felt nervous while singing love songs before, but his manager recently commented that he feels younger than usual. Like an actual teenager in love.

It checks out, considering how fast his heart races when he starts to associate lyrics with you. Gone is the Felis who shines like an untouchable star, and here enters an idol who might just be human.

He enjoys it, as afraid as he is at the same time. To place one’s heart in the hands of another is terrifying, but he’d rather it be you than anyone else.

…But maybe you shouldn’t attend any of his concerts for now. He doesn’t know what he’d do if his brain short-circuits at the sight of you within the crowd.

His own little secret within a sea of people entrusting him with their dreams — what a thrilling thing indeed.

Speeding up:

After that day, you noticed that Lyney has loosened up more around you — in a way that means he’s more likely to smile and cling to you during conversations. If he had cat ears, you can imagine they’d be standing proud every time he managed to fluster you, watching for every micro-reaction as if his career depended on pulling that expression from you as he might with a crowd of adoring fans.

Except you think that Lyney’s adapting to this too quickly. How is it that he was the nervous one that day at the rooftop, but has been going on the offense ever since the next morning?!

Lynette apologized to you in advance, telling you that once Lyney has his eyes on a goal, he’d be merciless in trying to charm your heart. You just didn’t think it’d affect you this much, though that might have more to say about how quickly you’re falling rather than Lyney’s approach.

Every time Lyney calls your name and decides it’s time to hang around you like sunshine to a flower, you’re reminded of the clips of Felis you’ve watched after learning of his job. It was a mix of curiosity and puzzling out what Lyney’s other side might be like…

But god, does he have to constantly sport a smile like that? You find out through a promotional video that the coffee shop stranger actually was Lyney, and the ribbon does look very cute in his hair.

It’s a shame you’re only seeing the whole design through a screen. And even worse is the way he’s blowing a kiss to the camera in this one music video—

“What’re you watching?” Lyney’s hands rest against the back of your seat as he leans to look over your shoulder, prompting a panicked noise from your throat. You fumble with your phone, flipping it over so he can’t see. The little smile Lyney’s wearing tells you he has an inkling, but he does you the favor of not spelling it out. “Must’ve been a pretty good video if you didn’t hear me coming over.”

“You snuck up on me!” Sending him a glare, you power off your phone protectively. “...And if you must know, I was just listening to a song.”

“Can I hear?” Despite his playful tone, Lyney does give you the space to deny him as he adjusts his glasses. “But of course, I understand if you don’t like to share headphones.”

“I don’t mind, but there’s something else I’m wondering about.” You tilt your head up to peer at Lyney more closely, reaching a hand out to graze against his fingers. “Are these real?”

“My hands? I’d hope so.”

“Your glasses.” You retort quietly, trying not to roll your eyes. “Despite how I had to make a reality check about you too, I do know in fact that you’re real.”

Lyney laughs, raising a fist to his mouth. “You flatter me. But to answer your question — yes, these are actual glasses. Though the prescription isn’t too bad, so I only wear contacts if needed elsewhere.” With a serious pause, Lyney meets your gaze. “I wear these to school though, because I need to look at the board from behind and admire you clearly.”

You prop your chin against your palm. “I’m starting to think you’ve gotten too flirty recently.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve been holding back?” He hums, pulling a chair to sit beside you and mirror your pose. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with me romantically at first, but after that…”

“...You’re lucky I find you cute.” You sigh in jest. “At this rate, you might wear me down before we even go on a first date.”

“There’s still a lot about myself I’d like to share with you.” Lyney quietly admits. “I just hope we’ll be able to talk with more freedom. And if you decide you still like me after that — I suppose I’d feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

The softness in his words somehow hits you harder than his previous flirtations.

It’s me who should be feeling incredibly lucky.

Rather than one persona being more genuine than the other, you were starting to understand Lyney’s balance between the schoolmate you knew and the charming idol onscreen.

You see the truth of his smile underneath the blinding lights and exchanges in the hallways; the adorable way he fiddles with his pen during class versus his confident choreography.

It’s all Lyney. You just have to learn more about him and put his trust to good use.

He’s not the type to pull just anyone into his world, after all. Lyney has always held back just a little, so as to not let his secrets show from behind the curtains to even his familiar friends.

And now that he’s allowed you in, how could you possibly take his excitement for granted? You’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to it too.

The date:

When Lyney greets you at the start of the date, the last thing you expected is for him to sneak a pink rose into your hair in place of a bouquet.

He claims it’s more discreet, especially considering the way he’s dressed with a mask and hat to hide his features, glasses also present. Despite these, Lyney is expressive enough that it doesn’t affect your conversations, and you allow him to take your hand as he leads you to the aquarium. It’s lunch time, so you’re going against the regular flow of people and enjoying the exhibits while it’s less populated.

Beneath the walkway tunnel where various rainbows of fish swim by, you gaze up in wonder at the shadow of a shark passing through.

Fontaine is nothing if not abundant in sea-related attractions, even if the main city is on land. You haven’t visited this aquarium since you were a kid, so it was nice to relive traipsing through a world washed in soothing, gentle blue.

“I think when we were younger, me and Lynette would talk about catching these fish if we were allowed into the tanks.” Lyney muses. “Perhaps that’s why our father says we’re like cats.”

“If we were in the wild though, catching fish for dinner would be a pretty good idea.” You gaze up. “But… if I was able to breathe underwater, I think I’d just spend all day escaping my troubles.”

“Would you have space for a partner in crime?”

“Only if they’d be able to help, by whisking us away from pursuers, for example.” You smile when Lyney starts swinging your hands lightly between you. “It’s stressful business when I have to worry about two of us getting caught, instead of just one.”

“I’d take the heat so you can get away first.” The conversation is childish, but Lyney’s sentiment makes a frown pull at your lips.

He’s confused when you stop walking and turn to face him. “No self-sacrifices! We either run together or get caught together. Nothing in-between.”

Something flickers in his eyes before he replies, tone warm. “Alright then. I’m at your mercy.”

“A bold claim, when you surprised me with this in my hair.” You point towards the rose Lyney’s managed to secure to your shirt with a pin, after his initial sneaky reveal. “...I’m just trying to make sure you’re not the only one giving between us, but it’s hard to keep up with all…” You gesture vaguely at him. “This.”

“You just signaled to all of me.”

“That’s right!” You huff, crossing your arms across your chest. Lyney resists the urge to reach out and entwine your fingers again. “You’re too pretty, and nice, then I find out you can sing and dance too—”

“But I like surprising you.” Lyney chirps back, a laugh in his voice as he notices the way your face is darkening with a blush. He does you the service of hiding this from passersby — if any actually entered the walkway now, empty as it is — with his hands cupping both of your cheeks. “Maybe it’s because I’m a workaholic, but I want to make sure your eyes are only on me.” It’s the most dangerous thing he could say to you, in public or not. “So maybe I should apologize for dragging you into my selfish whims.”

“...But you don’t intend to stop.” You say, feeling lightheaded.

“Of course not.” Lyney hums, eyes bright with a smile. “There are a lot of stars to compete with in the night sky.”

And you said we're in this together, did you not? It's not the first time someone's told him he doesn't have to do things alone, but… it means a lot, coming from you.

“I hope you don’t say this to all your fans,” you sigh, relaxing into the softness of his palms. They’re smooth, and you realize Lyney’s always felt a little warm to the touch.

“You’re a fan?”

The lilt in Lyney’s voice tells you you’ve made a mistake in your choice of words. He’s much, much too happy that a previously-disinterested person like you has now seen enough of his idol content to make such a slip.

“A fan of Lyney Hearth.” You try to salvage your pride, gaze trained onto the ground.

“Oh… I see.”

Lyney’s eyes widen before he catches himself, suddenly glad he’s wearing a mask for a different reason.

God… What is he going to do with you?

After attempting to feed penguins, seals, and exploring the open pool where you’re allowed to touch reef creatures, you and Lyney make a beeline out of the aquarium and towards the main shopping street, where many cafes are abound.

Since you were working against the usual rush schedule, you managed to grab a seat at a local favorite which also served meals; corner of the cafe and out of sight.

The meal passes by without issue, and next you browse some stores nearby while slowly heading towards the park. You were in a hobby shop when a group suddenly exclaimed the name Felis, causing Lyney to flinch and pull you with him behind a shelf.

“Oh my god, they do have idol stuff!”

“Yeah, but we already have this! It’s not new merch, y’know.”

Lyney lets out a relieved sigh, slumping against the shelf of comics. “Nevermind, false alarm.”

“Are you always this jumpy?” You whisper back, resisting the urge to look around him and see what said Felis merch was as the group moves to another end of the store. Lyney doesn’t seem to realize his arms are still wrapped around you, and that if you simply tilted your head a little, your faces could touch.

“Only because I’m more distracted today.” With you. “It’s nice to know that people are having fun though. My manager would classify that as a good review.”

“Yes, but also, um…” You clear your throat, causing Lyney to finally turn his head and freeze at your proximity. “Not that I mind, but you’re still holding on to me.”

“...Am I too close?” He sheepishly asks.

Yes.

“Not at all.” You swallow your nerves. “But if the staff find us like this, we’re definitely going to get kicked out.”

One shared crepe and a walk in the park later, you reach a quiet area hidden between the trees that’s lit by the evening light. Lyney explains that he and other trainees would often come here to hide out and practice choreography together, when the training rooms became too suffocating. In hindsight, he’s quite sure this spot had eventually been bought out by their company, seeing as they never ran into any press or strangers here.

“We’d prop our phones on water bottles and record ourselves, since there was no mirror.” Lyney recounts. “It was mostly to catch our mistakes, but some managers encourage us to pretend we’re doing vlogs too, to get used to presenting our personalities to the camera. Whatever does get uploaded is screened, though.”

“Do you still have those videos?” You’re sitting on a bench, legs crossed and facing one-another. “The ones that didn’t get posted, I mean.”

“...Maybe? They’re really embarrassing though.” He chuckles, and almost moves to take off his mask before he thinks better of it. “And I think I only did those to update my family on how I was doing. They don’t believe my words entirely when I say I’m fine.”

“You are too good of a talker, so I’d be wary too.” You laugh, glancing up at the sky. The clouds are parting for purple and orange. “I think once upon a time, I might’ve dreamed about doing something creative too. Like singing, fashion, or etcetera.”

“Not every interest has to be placed in the public eye.” Lyney takes off his hat, giving you a wink. “Guess what’s inside.”

“A dove? More roses?”

“Take a look.”

Once you lean closer, Lyney raises the cap to shield your faces from one side, then pulls his mask aside to block the other. It’s over in a moment, but he brushes his lips over your cheek, and the one image that clings to your mind is the blush adorning his face and the clear look in his violet eyes.

Eyes that are trained on you — holding your attention until something flickers in the corner of your vision, and Lyney reveals a rose made of playing cards.

You look down to check for the flower pinned on your shirt: no longer there, and presumably transformed by Lyney’s trick of the senses. He allows you to take the handcrafted rose with a satisfied smile.

“I was nervous it might’ve fallen apart after walking around all day.” He admits. “It’s not as romantic as a regular rose, but I hope it holds its charm all the same.”

It’s very him. Lovely and careful in the ways he opens up his petals to you, but hiding a puzzle of spells underneath.

“It’ll last a lot longer, too.” You smile, storing it carefully to take home later. “How long did you spend on preparing that?”

“What do you mean? I transformed it in a second.” He muses. “Besides, I don’t want to spoil the magic. It took a lot of practice, but normally just with an audience that looks at the hat, instead of…” Lyney trails off, clapping his hands together as if to signal the next topic. “I can teach you to fold a flower like that though, if you’d like.”

“In the library as usual?” You allow the shift in conversation, if only because unlike Lyney, you do not have the solace of hiding your expression behind a disguise. “I’m starting to wonder if your skillset will ever be exhausted.”

“Well, I’m quite adept at interviews, modeling, and learning things by sight.” For his idol work, he means. “But I will admit I’ve been curious about baking. Maybe one day we could try that together.”

“Collecting points in more categories, I see. Maybe you can teach me how to dance, too.”

Lyney surprises you by swinging his legs off the bench and standing. He gives you a little bow, a glint in his eyes as he extends a hand towards you. “One of Felis’ you mean? I could do that now.”

Right now?!

“Don’t you trust me to?” Lyney pouts. “I’m a good teacher, I promise.”

“M… Maybe next time?” You’re not too sure, suddenly feeling intimidated by the idea of proper choreography. By instinct, you still take Lyney’s hand and get to your feet. “I need to mentally prepare— Whoa!”

Before you can finish, Lyney’s spun you around and lowered you into a dip, hands supporting you at your back and waist. He keeps it shallow and helps you back up — lips quirked as you’re suddenly pulled closer to him with the momentum, bodies and faces inches apart.

His pupils are dilated.

Your indignation quickly forms into surprise. There’s a quiet tension surrounding the air — a question asked, and your hand reaches up to take off Lyney’s mask in reply as he steals your breath away straight from your lips.

You’ve been wondering when you’d finally get the chance to stop his honeyed words with a kiss.

After you get home, you find a playing card that Lyney’s slipped into your pocket. On it is his familiar scrawl, and a few simple words:

‘Thank you for today. Love — your number 1 fan.’

You get a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you exchange messages upon a suit of hearts. Maybe you’ll start investing in a deck of your own, just for him.

#genshin lyney x reader #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #genshin x reader #lyney genshin impact #genshin x you #lyney x gender neutral reader #genshin reader insert #genshin writing #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin fic #traveler wishes

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grapejuicestyless · 7 months

Note

can you do a conrad fic based off the song i know you by faye webster?? angst to fluff? love youuuuu

I Know You.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

flangst

summery: As the years went on, it became more apparent to Conrad of his and Y/n’s two year age gap. As he spends his last summer before college in a downward spiral. His mother, his father. But most important, the inevitable end of summer. Where he will go off to college and she will stay in high school.

Summer was always my favorite time of the year. The sand between your toes, the sunshine warming your scalp. Even in the sweltering heat, the summer temperatures only made the cool ocean water more desirable. More than that, it was the season of Conrad Fisher.

We’d met when I was only seven. He was nine, back when his hair was still shorter and his glasses weren’t collecting dust on his bedside table, but instead sat clean on the bridge of his nose. My parents had decided to finally buy the small beach house that had been on the market for almost a year. It was always my mom’s dream to live down by the water, so my father had been saving for it just so maybe one day, they could retire by the water, like the old couples do in the cheesy movies. The house that they bought that day sat neatly beside the Fishers beach house. Nothing but a wooden fence to separate the two backyards and a line of bushes in the front.

The first summer down, it was cold. Already, I had kicked and cried about leaving my friends for so long. Both new and old, all with the fear that they would leave and find better friends in my absence. Now, on top of my already distaste of the distance from our home, the sky was gloomy and the temperature refused to surpass the high sixties. It rained almost everyday, and when it wasn’t raining, it was about to.

It stayed that way for a week, the same week I spent inside, curled up in my room and looking out the window anxiously. I wanted to swim, at least. I wanted to run in the grass and I wanted to do everything my mother promised. I missed my friends and I missed my bed. Summer wasn’t summer to me.

Then, one morning, the sun came out. The cold front moved out and an intense heat suddenly took over. The mid eighties seemed like a dream. I could feel the sweat on the back of my neck sticking to my hair. My shirt sleeves were rolled up and my cheeks were burned. I spent the whole morning running around and playing pretend. I didn’t need anything in that moment but the surrounding joys of the summertime weather that had finally came. I was so caught up in this that I didn’t see the football go hurling over the fence.

“Hey!” His voice was much higher pitched then, he was just a boy. But it still scared me. It was loud, sudden. It made me jump. When I turned to face where the sound came from, he looked apologetic, but he never apologized. He was gripping onto the fence so hard, it was obvious he was either on his tip toes or not touching the ground at all.

I stared at him like an idiot, stuck in place, piecing together the context clues. I understood now that he was my neighbor. I waved shyly then, not wanting to be rude, and he waved back, still gripping the edge of the fence with one hand.

“I lost my ball, could you throw it over?” I was suddenly aware of the brown football by my foot. He pointed at it until I looked.

Slowly, I picked it up to show him. For some reason I felt nervous, unsure. He nodded, his smile never fading. Even then he had the kindest eyes, the warmest smile.

“I don’t know how.” I confessed. I knew how to paint, I could ride a bike. I was a quick runner and I could out-spell anyone in my second grade class. But I never learned how to throw a football. My dad had never taken the time to toss a ball around with me like he had once promised my mother to do. So, I never bothered to learn either.

“What?” He questioned.

“I don’t know how.” I repeated, unmoving.

“You don’t know how to throw a football?” He laughed, but he wasn’t making fun of me. It was almost like he couldn’t believe someone could lack such a skill!

“Thats what I said.” I held it with both hands, looking at the lacing while I spun in around in my palms.

“I can teach you!” He said, a little too enthusiastically.

“What?” I questioned him this time.

“I can teach you! I play football, let me teach you!” He persisted, adjusting himself on the fence so he could hang there for longer.

When I didn’t move he continued to beg. He begged and begged until finally I walked over the the gate that resided between the sides of our homes. It was rusted and hard to open, but it budged eventually and once I was over, I could see him fully.

He wore a blue baseball tee and athletic shorts. His glasses were fogging up from the heat and his hair was collecting sweat along his hairline.

That day, we didn’t leave the confinements of that yard until his mom, that I now know as Susannah, called for him to come inside for dinner. When he begged both his mom and I to stay for dinner, neither of us put up any fight. He called dibs to sit at the end of the table so he could sit beside me, and when dinner was served he gathered my plate for me so I wouldn’t feel awkward.

That night, he and Belly, who I met at dinner because she was to my right side, and who was also my age, begged again to let me stay over for the night. Susannah was unsure, not wanting to worry my parents too much. The next morning, he was knocking on my front door bright and early. He claimed we still had more to learn, but we spent the entire day down by the beach with his surf board and buckets for sandcastles. Suddenly, with Conrad beside me, I didn’t mind being so far from home anymore. Summer became summer.

Kicking the sand as I went, my footsteps left a trail of divots on the beach, marking where we had already been. The sun was just peaking over the horizon now. The air hadn’t gathered the usual summer humidity levels yet. It was the perfect time to be down here. Yet, today the waves were flat and the tide was too far out to really enjoy it. Regardless, Conrad and I always came down. No matter what.

It was one of the many traditions we’d gathered over the years. The yearly made up games became calming walks. The burning passion and competitiveness between us still burned, but in other ways. Our early morning enthusiasm never dimmed, it simply shinned for something else.

It was silent between us, but not awkward. Usually during this time we would talk about everything we missed. Though we practically slept in the same bed each night during the summer, his home in Boston and my families apartment in New York was much too far apart for us to constantly be together.

We would talk about school, our dreams, our friends and family. We still did all of that, but I couldn’t help but notice how he spoke less and less of his friends and more and more about us, Brown, and his mom.

Part of me worried for him, honestly. He called me just a few months ago. He had decided to quit football. I was shocked. How had Conrad, a boy with more passion for the sport than anyone I knew, somehow lost all the burning desire for it? Not only that, but it was that passion that brought us together in the first place. It was foolish to have been so caught up on the news, it was inevitable that we would’ve met. But part of me wondered if it would have been the same. I couldn’t help but wonder if his sudden disappearance from his clubs and sports made him drift away from them.

I still remember the call, when he told me everything. His deepest secrets, the ones that he kept from his own blood. When I laid down my concerns for him, how blandly he had stated it. I needed to know if there was something that happened. Something had to have happened. Conrad brushed it off then, he told me he had grown up and grew out of it. I knew that was a lie. He was just raving about it last summer. How excited he was to be back on the field. He described the the Friday night lights as the closest feeling to the summer sun he would ever be in the colder months. Something had happened.

So, when the line went silent, I reminded him of how he could run circles around anyone he wanted, but not me.

“Conrad,” I had started, “I know you.” And he knew what I meant. It was like I was watching him crumble beneath my fingers, even if I couldn’t see his face. He told me about his fathers infidelity, his mothers resistance towards freeing herself from their relationship. More than that, now that he was a senior, the reality of moving away for school was a looming storm cloud scaring him. But he never mentioned the loss of his friends.

“Hows Brett and Johnny?” I asked, suddenly aware that the farther we got down the beach, the less we had to say. We already covered it all over the phone, too eager to wait this year. It felt wrong, so I dug in the one blind spot this year.

“Oh…uh, I don’t really talk to them anymore.” He said is so casually, scratching at the back of his head. I expected to be partly right, but not right on the money. I stopped in my tracks, confused.

“What? No! Brett and Johnny?” Drifting away from childhood best friends is inevitable in most cases. The interests you share as children develop into passions and mature hobbies that often differ from one another. You are led down another path, but the kind smile they give you in the hallway during passing period reminds you how close you once were. You chat in the classes you have together and you catch up every so often.

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath like he was going to continue, but he didn’t. He stopped himself, he never stopped himself. Especially when it came to Brett and Johnny. His pals, his buddies!

He used to talk my ear off about them every summer! Begged Susannah to let them come with him. He told me of everything they did during the school year and he taught me their schoolyard games and we made the same stupid bets. It was a boyish love, I was so sure they would be the ones to stick together.

“I’m sorry.” I felt like it was my fault, somehow. When I connected the dots, his fathers affairs, his mothers giving heart, his brothers attitudes, his never ending stresses, I was left with a scribble of nothing. Just lines that resemble something that should mean something, but don’t. His friends wouldn’t leave him for something so small. I was missing something. I knew it.

He stopped himself, he was tense. He couldn’t even look at me. I wanted to slap it in his face that I knew something was missing, something bigger. I knew him. But the look in his eyes he hid almost completely behind his gentle gaze warned me not to push. If I unsurfaced it, he might not survive. So I let him hold back, just this once. I hope the squint in my eyes assured him I still, couldn’t have circles ran around me. I could simply read the room.

The longer summer progressed, the quieter Conrad got. It wasn’t just his friends that lacked in conversation. It was everything. He walked beside me more often than not with his head down and his hands in his pockets. He never talked about school, or his mom. He never asked about me anymore, what we should do. He lacked any ability to care, it seemed.

His eyebrows are forever furrowed. That kind smile replaced with an empty expression. During the day he was uninterested in every way. He never participated, never cared enough to even try. Yet, when night rolls around and I slip in through the window, I’m his again. He doesn’t really speak like he used to. We don’t laugh hardly enough. But he reaches his arms out just the same, and welcomes me into his bed. And when he thinks I’m asleep, I catch him pulling me in just a little bit harder than before.

I can’t help but wonder where it really started. I think back on it, and the first signs were all there. So small it was hard to know if it was really him changing or if he was just growing. Quitting football, losing his friends. Losing his father, in some sense.

But every time I try I always see that same look in his eyes. The one warning me not to push. The one that forced me to listen.

It wasn’t like he was being cold towards me. But there was an obvious difference in our nature. Shorter walks, longer wake ups. He was tired, and now so was I. But not of him, never of him.

“Conrad?” I asked in the silence. His room was darker now that he had ditched his nightlight all those years ago. The moon didn’t quite illuminate it the same as the glowing yellow did. I felt his body next to mine, his arms hovering over my body. His breathing was steady and his body unmoving other than the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“I wish you would tell me what’s going on with you. I just want to help.” I sighed, under my breath. It was so quiet, even the waves in the distance seemed louder. I spoke this way just incase he was awake, in case he was lying. I never really knew anymore. He might as well have been sleepwalking these past few weeks.

When a silent pause passed, I understood there would be no response. He wouldn’t open up, and there would be no resolve. Conrad was and will always be my best friend. He’ll come around, I knew it. He had to. I doubt myself just a little when I remember his resistant look and unwavering attitude. I begin to think that it’s me. I have lost that special spot in Conrad that made him feel like he could always be as vulnerable as he wanted with me. I am not enough. I begin to think the day he comes back to me will never come, and he will be off to college with his new life and forget all about the girl who learned how to find his favorite constellations by heart just so they could point and laugh all summer about how they drifted quickly across the sky.

“Conrad!” I called out. My feet his the sand harshly. The uneven surface sinking quicker the harder my feet hit only slowed me down. My outstretched arms would never be enough.

He was already up the steep hill. Nearly crossing through the hedges and over the fence to his backyard. He was a storm. Untamed and wild. His fists clenched, not from anger but frustration. The sound of the bonfire faded into the distance, and my lungs were hot and sticky with smoke and the salt air.

“Conrad, stop!” I yelled again, straddling the fence clumsily. With an extra hop I barely cleared it having no time to gain any composure when splitting it.

Finally, the speed of my legs compared to his long strides balanced, and my hand was close enough to grab at him. He didn’t spin, but I could see the bruises on his knuckles and the radiating heat from his clothes. He was hot, worked up too. I just needed to see him, finally pry him open.

“Conrad, whats going on with you?” I begged for him to tell me. I wasn’t at all disgusted with him, I held no judgement. But it would’ve been so much easier to defend him if I had a reason.

“Go home, Y/n.” He was angry, his hands pushing back his hair so much, I thought he might rip it out.

“We used to talk about things, remember that? When we could talk about everything? Why shut me out? Why now!” I expected some sort of sympathy. Anything that would explain his distance and let me back in.

“Go home, Y/n.” His voice was steady, but strict. When he shook his arm, my hand came off so quick it slapped against my thigh. It hurt but I would never tell him. Make myself look more immature than I felt already. Just a dumb girl trying to understand his complex feelings.

Maybe he didn’t expect me to actually do what he said. He didn’t see that I would actually turn on my heals and head for home. He let out a choked breath, and just barely over the gentle breeze I could hear him sniffling.

My parents were out of town until Tuesday. I was so excited for this weekend. I could barely wait for tonight. The first Friday for just us in months. I bought his favorite cookies. I rented our favorite movies, threw our favorite blankets in the dryer.

I sit in my bed thinking about this, about how I did so much for him all summer. Stayed with him, stayed true. Held him like an oath. What was I beginning to become to him? Nothing more than his other friends, it became clear.

“Y/n!” Knuckles hit my window, followed by the soft calling of my name. It was persistent, I was ready to yell at Jeremiah to go home.

The window was Conrad and I’s sacred space, in many ways. When we were younger, my parents were stricter. Too scared to let a boy so immature into my room. So each night, Conrad would climb the railing on the back deck until he was high enough to crawl up the garage roof. It was lower than the rest of the house, and ended just outside my window. He would tap very softly until I would turn on my light and rush over. We’d talk and talk and talk until our parents realized it would be safer to just let us be.

Now, Jeremiah came knocking more than Conrad. Always wanting to sneak out with Belly or Steven. Conrad slept in his bed, and if I didn’t come, he wouldn’t come retrieve me.

But, after all these weeks, there he was. Hair a mess and puffy eyes. He was sitting just outside my window like a dog with a bird at my door. Waiting for some praise.

“Con?” It was pathetic how quickly I unlatched the handle that kept the window stuck shut. So quick to let him in again.

His limbs were long and clumsy clanking through the small window frame. It took longer the more he grew. It was a harder fit. He was breathing heavily, hand on his chest, balled up in a fist. He looked bewildered, panicked.

From the uneven breathing and the rapid pace, along with the paleness growing more and more in his usually rather tanned skin, I knew it was more than fatigue.

“Conrad, hey, Conrad.” I knew him, deep down. Even if distant behavior couldn’t get rid of what I already knew. He could never erase us, or my ability to know him so well.

“Just talk, say anything. I just want…need to hear your voice, please.” He rushed, voice raised but not yet shouting fully. I knew he liked to be talked down from these attacks, he used to have some when he was growing up. I never really knew what to say, though. No matter how well I knew him, it felt different.

“About what?” I asked, my hands guiding him to my bed. The blue stripped sheets wrinkled under our weight, the white duvet tossed lazily at the foot of my bed.

“Anything. The beach.” He blurted out, eyes wide and staring back into mine. I couldn’t help but notice how the moon made them look even more blue. Just as deep and swimming in color. My hands were shaky, and my mind was racing. Suddenly, I was speaking.

“I think I like July the best.” I breathed, trying to remain calm. I let my hand slide off his shoulder and into his lap. My palm that rested on his thigh flipped only to show that he could take it if he wished to. I wouldn’t mind.

“June is great too. I like catching up with you, finally seeing you again. But the sand is the warmest in July. I love being able to know that. I love being able to walk next to you with my hands in my pockets one second and being thrown over your shoulder the next. I love when you race into the water in your nice clothes. How we swear to our parents we won’t do it again and we do. I love our traditions, I love that no matter how old we get we still do them. I love how you teach me everything you love so I can love it too. I love that nobody really knows about them but us.” I feel his hand now. His steady fingers intertwine with mine. His breathing has slowed juristically and his eyes have sunk back into the usual droopy state. But the moon still shines in his eyes the same, they still swim with color. I am still sotting next to Conrad.

“Talk to me.” I whisper in the silence. He squeezes my hand three times.

“What if things are never the same?” He won’t look at me, thats when I realize just how serious he is.

“What do you mean?” My thumb rubs against the back of his hand. His skin is warm and soft. I want to kiss it, make it better. Know him fully again.

“I’m already losing my mom, what if I lose you too?” And suddenly I know him. I see how his mothers obvious illness is affecting him, even if she won’t admit she’s sick again. He had to have known, which meant I did too. I can see how his father’s infidelity makes him blind with rage, and I see how anxiety eats away at his insides until he is nothing more than a once occupied space. Over his family, over me.

We both know he is leaving soon. Only going farther away from me. He’ll be in college and I will be a senior. Its in our nature to see the world differently as we grow. I see him thinking about Johnny and Brett. Wondering if we’ll have the same fate.

“You know me.” I remind him, then. I squeeze his hands three times, I remind him how much I love him. I’m afraid I’ll never stop. “And I’ll never forget you.” My hand leaves his to brush the hair out of his face. I let my palm rest against his wet cheek selfishly.

“How can you be certain?” His weight rested in the palm of my hand, skin being molded under the soft motion of my thumb against his cheek.

I paused, biting my tongue. I knew the answer, but I couldn’t find the words right away.

“When we’re old and have to leave the earth, I’ll still remember all I’ve learned. From you.” I felt him smile. His eyes scrunched up delicately, knocking the stray tears away from his eyes. They pooled around my hand. I let them lay. Still.

“I love you, always know that.” I reassured him, my gaze locked in his eyes. Stuck.

“I love you too. And I know, I know you.” Summer would always be summer as long as I had Conrad, and I knew he felt the same.

I knew him like no other. It was a scary reality, trusting someone with something so delicate, so special. But when that anxiety takes over I get to remind myself that its only Conrad. The boy who tossed a football over the fence and taught me how to be a kid.

I wonder if he threw it over on purpose.

#tsitp conrad #conrad x reader #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad x you #conrad fisher x reader #conrad #team conrad

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nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 7)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

“What’d you think? Should we climb it?” Tyson asks his district partner, teasingly.

She is two years his junior, still not an idiot. The giant pile of sand funneling in from the top of the arena is no hiking expedition. “No, we should save our strength, like Haymitch said.”

“Did you know the tallest mountain in the world was called Mount Everest? Before the founding of our great nation?” He presses on, largely ignoring Y/N’s sage advice.

“What do they call it now?” She wonders.

“Trick question; tallest mountain in the world was actually Mauna Kea.”

“Now’s a bad time for trivia.” Y/N decides, a hand at her brow to shield the blazing sun.

“It’s the only time we’ve got.”

Y/N startles awake, as she always does from dreams of him. Dreams of a stranger, who in under two weeks became her best friend. The games are funny that way, time moves differently there. People who standby you in the arena become closer than people you’ve known for years. The ones that haunt you forever.

She thinks of him often. Though Y/N never had a brother, she decided a long time ago, that is where Tyson fit. How he taunted and teased her, protected and loved her, all at the same time. And when she named her son Everest, sealing the tiniest drop of Tyson in her blood, Y/N found some peace with it. Giving new life to the boy who died so that she might live.

When she hears Peeta recounting the day he fell in love with Katniss, her heart sinks. The gamemakers won’t let them both win. They can’t. President Snow simply won’t allow it. And if what they’re saying now is true, even if one of them survives…

“There’s backstory,” Haymitch muses.

Maybe he believes Seneca would do it, two victors. Or maybe he just wants her to believe that he believes. One thing about Haymitch is that he will lie, either straight up or simply omit key details to shield Y/N. Protect her at any cost, as if she were some fragile thing.

She used to hate it, until she understood. Not fragile; precious. Something more valuable than money, or secrets, even booze. If anything happened to Y/N, his world would simply stop turning. The sun would set and never rise. She is a precious commodity of extremely limited supply. She could never be replaced.

“You need medicine for that leg.” Katniss changes the topic of conversation.

“I don’t get many parachutes.” Peeta admits, though he doesn’t tell her why.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?”

“Something.” Katniss huffs, into the dimly lit cave.

“I think that was the green light on the meds for Peeta.” It’s go time. Haymitch rises from the bench, offering his hand.

This particular offering will not come cheap, it’s time for the original lovers of district twelve to do what they do best. Work an angle.

————————————————————————

“What do you mean we can’t send medicine? We’ve always been able to send medicine.”

“Not my rules, Mrs. Abernathy.” The woman behind the counter says.

“Of course not, you just work here.” Haymitch smiles.

The Capitol employee returns the gesture.

“We’ve been raising this money all day and Y/N is obviously upset that we can’t go through with sending the medicine, but we understand. Is there any information you could give us to help put our minds at ease about the condition of our tribute?”

The woman looks to Y/N now. District twelve tributes rarely make it this far and everyone is quite taken with the young lovers. Against her better judgment, she motions for Y/N to lean down toward her. “There will be an opportunity for your tribute to receive medicine tomorrow.”

“Is there anything we can send today?” Y/N asks.

“You can send soup.”

“Soup.” Haymitch repeats, with false enthusiasm. “We’ll send them soup.”

————————————————————————

“Attention tributes, commencing at dawn, there will be a feast of sorts, at the cornucopia. Each of you need something desperately and we plan to be…generous hosts.”

“And that is why we couldn’t send medicine,” Haymitch laughs, staring down at the contents of his cup.

They’re trying to wrap this up, everyone’s off in different directions. Bring them back together for one hell of a show before curtain fall.

“Five needs food. Thresh just got bread so…maybe weapons? Two needs…armor? I don’t-” Y/N presses a finger against her temple, desperate for answers.

“You feeling ok?” Haymitch’s brow furrows.

“Yes,” Y/N bites out.

Her husband reels back. It is not uncommon for Y/N to mourn tributes, even ones that aren’t theirs. It is unlike her to take it out on him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Y/N apologizes, immediately. Taking one of his hands in hers.

Haymitch turns his gaze to their twined fingers, she’s shaking, “when’s the last time you ate something?”

“Not hungry.”

“You need to eat,” he decides.

“Nothing tastes right.”

“Listen angel, if they’re gonna poison you, it won’t be here.”

“I must be coming down with something.” Or the stress. Despite all of this, she’s never faired well under duress.

“Probably why you puked in that lady’s ice bucket.” Haymitch notes.

“You know what does sound halfway decent?”

“Hmm?”

“Those little cream puffs with powdered sugar on top.”

Haymitch grins, “I’ll bring a plate.”

He hovers after that. Y/N can’t stand hovering, but she tolerates it. Understanding that it comes from a place of love. She didn’t mean to worry him.

Haymitch can’t sleep. Even after Y/N is out cold.

“I love you so much, Haymitch.”

She who brushes wayward hair from his eyes and runs her nose along the length of his, after the sweetest of kisses. She who believes in him and shows him each day there is a reason his life did not end in the arena. She is the best person he has ever known and he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to deserve her. To deserve that selfless, all consuming, love that she gives so freely.

“I love you forever.” Maybe even longer.

In that, at least he knows there is no cause for concern. Their marriage will not crumble, come hell or high water. Haymitch knows how badly she misses home, their children. In another life he’d ask for ten, as many as Y/N would give him.

The tiny garden, around the back of their house in victor’s village; where Everest plants carrots and other vegetables. Where Arista steals them to feed the wandering geese. The most taciturn, temperamental, creatures she can find are naturally the ones she chooses to care for.

Y/N’s syringes come like clockwork from the Capitol, every three months. Squandering any hope of tiny baby feet. Though she is the best mother, one who plays with her daughter and son, down in the dirt. A mother who loves her children more than anything.

Their lives there are a safe haven, one that exists only in their minds. There is no room for a place like that here. No safety for the children they’ve given life to. Only false hope and broken promises.

And if by some misfortune or Capitol ‘miracle’ a child should slip through, Haymitch would love them. Somehow, someway they’d all make it through. But he hopes, more than anything, that it is not now.

————————————————————————

There is no rush to the viewing room the next morning, everything the tributes need will be at the cornucopia. Katniss gets close to the bag marked ‘12’ and the girl from two is on her. Knocking her back with those damn knives.

They grapple around for a while, before landing with Clove on top. Leaving Katniss no room for escape as she holds the blade to her throat. Haymitch is seated on the bed, watching Y/N pace along the large screen in their bedroom.

Thankfully the boy from eleven takes out one of the two remaining careers. Overhearing her taunt Katniss and brag about killing his district partner.

“Just this time, twelve.” Thresh tells her, gathering his bag from the table. “For Rue.”

With that they’re off; Thresh back to solitude and Katniss to Peeta.

He’s still asleep when she arrives, waking only to the sound of her voice. “I got it. I got your medicine.”

“What happened to you?” Peeta’s eyes focus on the gash across her forehead, courtesy of Clove.

“I’m fine.” Katniss busies herself with opening the canister.

“No you’re not,” Peeta reaches up, “what happened?”

“The girl from two, she threw a knife.”

“You shouldn’t have gone, you said you weren’t gonna go.”

“You got worse.” She replies, simply. Spreading the salve over the length of his wound.

Peeta allows a small cry to pass his lips, grabbing at her wrist. “You need some of that too.”

“I’m ok.” Katniss is more worried about him.

“That feels so much better.” He sighs. “Now you need some too.”

“I’m ok.”

“No, come on. You need it too.”

“Alright.” Katniss finally agrees. Watching Peeta’s tender expression as he thumbs the cream over her injury.

When they wake to the computer generated sunrise and find their cuts have healed, the star crossed lovers set off in search of food.

Peeta to the left, foraging berries while Katniss goes to hunt. Though the separation is not ideal, his heavy footsteps would send any potential prey running. The archer is ready to score them some breakfast when the cannon sounds.

It’s for the girl from five. But Katniss doesn’t know that, so she sets off in search of Peeta.

This time, Y/N and Haymitch are down in the viewing room, overhearing the chatter around them.

“Those berries must be poisonous.”

“I hope Katniss finds him in time.”

Katniss calls out for Peeta again, colliding into him a moment later as Peeta rushes toward the sound of her voice. His fist still closed around a handful of blue berries.

“What happened? Are you ok?” Peeta wonders, holding her tightly as she trembles.

“I heard the cannon. I thought you were dead.”

The boy rests his chin against her shoulder, “I’m right here.”

Katniss pulls back to scold him, smacking the berries from his hand. “That’s nightlock, Peeta. You’d be dead in a minute!”

“I didn’t know,” he stammers.

“Scared me half to death, damn you.” Then she is hugging him again. She can’t explain it, the need to feel him close, know that he is safe.

“I’m sorry.” Peeta breathes, soothing her with a gentle hand, down the length of her back. “I’m sorry.”

When they have settled enough to keep moving, they make the discovery of the red head’s body. Her mouth stained magenta and a few berries still in hand, eyes wide and open.

“I never even knew she was following me.”

“She’s clever.” Katniss always thought so.

“Too clever.”

Katniss leans down, collecting the berries from her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Maybe Cato likes berries too.”

It’s only half past noon when the sun sets, quickly and without warning.

“Must be in a hurry to end it.” Katniss reasons.

Y/N’s leg is bouncing faster now, vibrating almost.

Haymitch reaches out a hand, resting it atop her thigh to still it.

They wait there, in uncomfortable silence, until the sound of mutts causes Y/N to jump. Even Haymitch flinches when the animals appear, like something out of a nightmare, bits of the fallen tributes mixed in.

They take Thresh, tearing him to pieces and Y/N doesn’t fight when Haymitch wraps her up in his arms. Making a place for herself in his lap, legs dangling over the side of his, not caring if she is heavy. He of course, doesn’t mind, pressing a kiss to the underside her jaw.

Cato is waiting at the top of the cornucopia. When Peeta and Katniss inevitably end up there, the three of them have it out. With Cato’s arm around Peeta’s neck, Katniss is left with no good choices. If she shoots the career’s hand where Peeta is pointing and she misses… But if she doesn’t shoot, he’ll kill Peeta anyway. She takes a deep breath and lets the arrow fly.

Cato’s death is a quick one, a mercy he may not have shown with roles reversed. But it is over, leaving just the tributes from district twelve. Gone is the shadow of night, the sun returning to illuminate the finale.

“Attention, tributes, attention, there’s been a slight rule change.”

Katniss draws her bow, fearing that they are somehow not alone.

Haymitch shifts, bracing himself.

“The previous revision allowing two victors from the same district has been…revoked. Only one may be crowned. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Katniss and Peeta turn back to one another.

“Go ahead.” Peeta insists, “one of us should go home. One of us has to die, they have to have their victor.”

“No,” Katniss tosses her weapon down, stepping over it to close the space between them. “They don’t. Why should they?” She pulls the nightlock from her pocket.

“No,” Peeta covers her hand with his own.

“Trust me.” Katniss whispers, “trust me.”

And Peeta does, accepting the berries into his palm.

Haymitch lets out a breath, patting the outside of Y/N’s thigh, affectionately. “You did it.” He murmurs, “there’s your victors.” Even though it isn’t fair, even though there will be nothing to show for it. They won.

Y/N leans farther into his embrace. Wishing more than anything for the chance to tell Peeta that she is proud and to tell Katniss…

“Together?” The boys asks.

“Together,” Katniss repeats.

“Ok. One.” Peeta runs his fingertips down the length of her braid.

“Two.”

“Three.”

Together they raise the poison toward their lips.

“Stop.” A voice rings through the arena, “stop! Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners of the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games.”

For this, the four of them will surely be punished.

Part 8

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004

#the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x y/n #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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sluttyten · 2 years

Text

while you were sleeping

Yesterday <- || -> Kinktober Masterlist

Day Seven: Somnophilia w/ Jaehyun

Word Count: 4,030

** somnophilia is sex while one of the participants is unconscious, this does involve dubious consent/consensual non-consent, though the kink was something talked about between the individuals here prior to the events of the story

You and Jaehyun have fucked around before. He’s your best friend, your roommate, and one of the best fucks you’ve ever had.

But that had been only a few times months ago when you were on a trip with some other friends. Fun drunken tangles, kisses exchanged between giggles, and much of calling each other dude and buddy.

That didn’t mean that you didn’t sometimes still think of Jaehyun, remembering the way it had felt with him. In your weak moments when he walks around your shared apartment shirtless or fresh from the shower with only a towel wrapped around his hips, you think you should tell him you’d like to repeat the events of that week, sober this time. But you don’t know if Jaehyun feels the same.

Does he dream about you too?

It’s a late summer night that you’re alone at the apartment all evening. Jaehyun’s out with some people he works with, you’re just in to relax for the night. A glass of wine, a warm night with the windows cracked to entice a breeze. You fall asleep before you ever hear Jaehyun coming back home.

Your bedroom door is cracked open a sliver along with the window, creating a nice little draft through the room, but despite that, you peel your clothes off, sleeping just beneath a thin sheet. You think nothing of it as you drift off to sleep.

When Jaehyun comes home an hour or so later, not even the sound of him closing the apartment door heavily behind him disturbs you. You sleep soundly as Jaehyun crosses the floor to pass by your bedroom to reach his. You don’t stir when the footsteps pause outside the door, Jaehyun’s knuckles rapping lightly.

The door swings open easily, the curtains over your open window snap in the sudden breeze. The sheet over your body rustles slightly, and you shift, moving just enough that the sheet slips.

Jaehyun had just meant to see if you were still awake to ask you something about plans you had together for the following day. But he can now see that you’re clearly asleep. Asleep and naked, one breast appearing bare from the sheet, your nipple peaked in the cool touch of the wind passing through the room.

Stronger men than Jaehyun would falter here, faced with the sight of you like this.

Temptation sings in his veins, and when you move again in your sleep, sighing so prettily and turning your head towards him, Jaehyun loses his control.

You’d talked about this all those months ago on that trip. In between one drunken hook up and the next, as you’d lain together tangled in sheets beneath a slowly revolving ceiling fan, Jaehyun had listened intently as you told him all about a fantasy you and a previous partner had played with—something that was the overlap of free use and noncon, something that played on your love of being submissive and pliable, and your ex-partner’s love of doing whatever to you.

“Somnophilia?” Jaehyun had asked, mesmerized in that moment as he watched your lips. “What’s that?”

“He fucked me while I was asleep,” you’d said simply.

Jaehyun was quiet for a long moment, watching your face and thinking before he said, “And you like that? Being used while you’re unconscious?”

You’d shrugged, feeling the thrill and the heat coursing through your core as you told your best friend, “I like whatever my partner likes. I just wanted him to have fun and feel good.”

Even after that drunken week had become the last, Jaehyun had broached that topic with you again. One Sunday morning a couple weeks later, you’d been sitting in your kitchen eating breakfast when Jaehyun emerged from his bedroom with messy hair and no shirt (and your heart had swooped down to your pussy), and he’d told you he’d done a little research about somnophilia.

He’d asked you questions about it, about the dubious consent of it all. “How is it not assault? Even if you have permission beforehand, you’re unconscious, so what if your partner does something that you didn’t want done?”

Jaehyun asked good questions, and you did your best to answer them. You didn’t think that he was preparing for anything, and maybe he wasn’t planning anything. Maybe he was just satiating his curiosity. Whatever the case, this warm summer night when he enters your bedroom, your somnophilic desires were all he could think about.

“Do you wanna fuck me while I sleep, dude?” You’d laughed the last time the topic came up, just three days ago. Jaehyun had balked slightly at you calling him dude in this context, and he’d denied it, but you’d held your suspicions—two days after that you’d woken from a nap on the sofa to find Jaehyun standing in the kitchen, distractedly overflowing his glass of water at the sink, and you had the distinct feeling that he’d just looked away when you looked at him.

Tonight, Jaehyun thinks about those words. Does he want to fuck you while you sleep? Yes. That’s the simplest answer.

He looks at you here in your bed, a thin sheet draped perfectly over your body so he can see the shape of you exactly, highlighted and shadowed by light coming in through the window. And then there’s your breast above the sheet, your nipple hard, and the little sighs you make as you shift again restlessly. He feels like a pervert as he steps further into your bedroom.

Those nights on the trip were so long ago now, and Jaehyun has spent quite a few restless nights since then lying in his bedroom just feet away from your own, wishing he had the balls to just come in here, to kiss you, to tell you that he wants to pick up the fun you’d had then. But to do it sober this time.

And then, as if he needs further encouragement, you sigh, “Jaehyun.”

He pauses for the briefest moment, then continues the rest of the way over to sit on the edge of the bed. One clear look at your face tells him that you’re still asleep. But you must be thinking of him, right?

Another sigh from your lips, and you move around, more of the sheet slipping away from your body.

Jaehyun touches you. He can’t help himself.

Your breast, your side, your hip and one entire leg are exposed, and he just needs to touch you, feel your skin so warm and soft beneath his hand. To know you’re real.

When his fingers tickle down over your side, you gasp, lips parting around the inhale, and Jaehyun’s gaze darts to your face. Your eyes move beneath your eyelids, but you stay asleep.

This is familiar, Jaehyun thinks as his hand slots against your hip, fingers curling into that spot that he remembers bruising when he fucked you in the storage closet on the back porch of the house you all rented that week. You’d cursed his name for half an hour, walked out of there limping, not from him fucking you so well but because of the balancing issue that had caused him to half-crush you against a crate.

You roll your head on the pillow, mumbling something Jaehyun can’t make out as he lightly flicks his fingers to edge the sheet a little more away, revealing more of your body as it goes. Once more, Jaehyun can’t contain himself, and he moves higher onto your bed, lifting himself somewhat over you, and he lowers his head, intending to taste your skin, to flick his tongue over your nipple to hear if you make as sweet of a sound now as you did before.

The sight of a hickey staining the skin high on your rib beneath your breast brings all of Jaehyun’s movements to a crashing halt. That’s a recent hickey.

Unbeknownst to Jaehyun, you have hooked up with several people since that trip. You have to get it somewhere even if you’re not getting it from him. But they’re just placeholders, temporary fixes to a craving that only Jaehyun can satisfy.

A spark of jealousy sizzles over Jaehyun’s nerves. Should he end this here? Leave the bed, cover you again with the sheet, and return to his room to jerk off and think of you? If there’s someone else, if he misread your joking question, a half-offer from the other day—do you wanna fuck me while I sleep, dude?—then he’ll stop right now.

Shit, Jaehyun thinks, this is the sketchy part about this kink. He ruins it if he wakes you, but that’s the only way he’ll know if he should continue.

The shaky ground Jaehyun treads between morality and immorality trembles beneath him as he sits up to look down at you. He moves his hand ghost-light over you, fingertips dipping tenderly over your arm and shoulder, skimming your tits.

A light brush of fingertips becomes his palm cupping your breast, thumb tracing gentle circles around your nipple. Your eyes dart back and forth beneath your eyelids. And then your eyelashes flutter, your eyebrows twitch, and your eyes begin to open.

“Jaehyun?” You murmur, still mired in the depths of sleep even as your eyelids rise. Maybe you’re just dreaming that he’s here with you.

“Shh,” he comforts, still touching you. “It’s me.”

You hum pleasantly, just a small sound. “Jaehyun,” you say again, and his name sounds like music from your lips.

“Is there someone else?” He asks quietly while he has you awake, though that doesn’t seem like it’ll be for long. Your eyelids are already sinking shut again. “Do you have someone else that you’re hooking up with? Someone you wish was doing this to you instead of me?”

You lazily shake your head. “Want you, Jaehyun-ah. Wanna sleep, feel you in me again, go….. swimming.” Your eyes close only to heavily lift after a couple seconds. Your words don’t entirely make sense, and he attributes that to your half-asleep state.

“You want me to fuck you while you sleep?” He asks, still touching your tit, and you press your chest up into his palm, one of your hands skimming up the back of his arm.

You just hum and nod.

“Then go back to sleep, baby,” Jaehyun whispers, leaning his head down to kiss your collarbone.

Jaehyun’s kisses drift lower, tongue flicking your nipple now as he pinches it between his pointer and middle finger. You sigh, arching your chest a little against the heat of his mouth. “Keep going,” your voice is cottony with sleep, the lure of dreams already pulling you back down.

Jaehyun takes your request to heart, and he keeps going.

You’re overtaken by sleep again before Jaehyun even reaches the base of your sternum. Heavy eyelids dropped shut, body open and vulnerable to Jaehyun’s touch.

He kisses down your torso, taking his time to leave a couple hickeys on his way, needing to leave his mark behind on you to erase that of the other guy. On his descent, Jaehyun brushes the sheet away at last from where it still clung to that last bit of your modesty—draped halfway over your abdomen and on hip and leg, hiding the sight of your kissy from him. But it falls away so easily, and the backs of Jaehyun’s fingers skim your pussy. He feels the softness and the heat.

Jaehyun lifts his gaze to your face, but you’re deep into sleep again, lips parted all pretty, totally oblivious to him touching you now. He takes a moment to admire you, pliant and soft, yielding to his touch when he parts your thighs.

A sleepy murmur escapes you, nothing intelligible in the sound.

The heady scent of you reaches his nose as Jaehyun lowers himself to stretch comfortably between your legs.

He wishes you were awake for this part. When you’d hooked up before, the couple times that Jaehyun had eaten you out, you’d gone mad for it. He swears he’s still missing a little chunk of hair from you yanking at it so roughly while you rode his face. You were always asking for it a little rough and fast and hard, rushing Jaehyun through moments when he wanted to genuinely enjoy you, taking his time in eating you out or having your lips around his cock or having your sweet pussy snug around him.

So maybe it’s for the best that you’re not awake to enjoy it. Tonight he can take his time with you, tease you and push you. Since you’re asleep, you can’t rush him through enjoying you, and he plans to take total advantage of that fact.

He watches you. The steady rise and fall of your breasts. The sleepy part of your lips. He watches his thumb draw circles over your pussy lips, slipping in between to your clit. You lie there, still while he touches you, and for Jaehyun it feels dirty and wrong yet so hot and right.

After a few more moments of just drawing circles on your clit, Jaehyun parts your pussy lips with his fingers and lowers his head to instead taste you on his tongue, first just licking a stripe but then focusing his attention again at your clit, alternating between sucking it between his lips and flicking his tongue over the small bundle of nerves.

Your head turns on the pillow, hips rocking slightly.

But you don’t wake, not then and not a few minutes later when Jaehyun slips a finger down to spread through your growing arousal.

You sleep peacefully as Jaehyun eases his middle finger inside you, your pussy already reacting so well to him that he quickly fits his ring finger in too. Jaehyun slowly strokes his fingers in and out while he continues flicking his tongue in constant stimulation on your clit.

Jaehyun is amused at how well your body is reacting to him while you’re unconscious. Your pussy is dripping, hips rocking slowly to meet Jaehyun’s stimulating actions, but still you’re asleep, only occasionally making small sounds of pleasure. Little moans and sighs, as your face scrunches up.

Jaehyun fights the battle between wanting to watch your face and wanting to close his eyes and just lose himself in the taste of you on his tongue.

“Ah,” you moan suddenly, and Jaehyun looks to your face, watching as your mouth falls open, your hands—one of which had been above your head and the other stretched across the sheets beside you—both fly down, threading your fingers through Jaehyun’s hair.

You rock your hips against his lips and fingers, and Jaehyun obeys what your body so clearly desires. He goes faster, thrusting his fingers inside you now, sucking at your clit.

Your soft walls pulse around Jaehyun’s fingers, arousal leaking out between each press of his knuckles inside you. You ride out your orgasm, grinding against Jaehyun’s face and fingers, and he doesn’t let up, just watches you pass through the layers of pleasure. You’re still not awake. As soon as your orgasm fades your hands loosen in his hair before falling away. One rests against your belly, the other settles back against the sheets. You look just as you had before, though perhaps a little more flushed, a little dewy.

Your lips are still parted so pretty, your eyelashes rest against your cheekbones. You look like a babydoll, and Jaehyun only wants to keep playing with you.

Jaehyun pulls himself semi-reluctantly from between your legs, reminded as he does so, of how hard he is. He’d neglected and forgotten his growing erection in favor of taking care of you, but he’s given you an orgasm, and now it’s his turn.

He moves higher up the bed until he’s sitting beside your head. He can’t restrain himself from reaching out to touch you, stroking your soft cheek, tracing a finger over your parted lips. He smiles as his fingertip dips inside your mouth a little, and your lips twitch as if to suckle on his fingertip, but he pulls away, intrigued by a new idea.

By this point, Jaehyun’s achingly hard from the overall inappropriateness of this whole situation as well as the lingering taste of you on his tongue, your stickiness still clinging to his fingers.

He dips his hand inside his pants, using those same sticky fingers to give his cock a tug, stroking himself inside his pants as he watches your face.

Back when you talked to him about this kink of yours the first time, Jaehyun didn’t get it. He didn’t understand how someone could be aroused by a partner who wasn’t eagerly reacting to him, a partner who wasn’t conscious, or anything like that. He didn’t get how you could be into this when you weren’t an active participant. But in between here and there something had changed, there was some shift between one day and the next, and Jaehyun just got it.

No time more than this present moment has Jaehyun truly understood it though. As he sits over you while he strokes his cock, you unaware of his actions, he feels a fresh burst of arousal.

Jaehyun frees his cock from his pants, stroking his hand along his length in the open, his fingers spreading his precum down his length, but it’s not enough. He needs you, not just to touch himself over you.

He touches your hair, lightly pressing your head until you’re closer to him, until all Jaehyun has to do is twist his hips a little, and the tip of his cock touches your lips.

All of this entire situation has Jaehyun feeling a little weak, a little like he could cum at the slightest thing.

Feeling your breath against the tip of his cock, followed by his tip kissing your lips, that just about does it for him, sad as it is to say. He grips the base of his cock, doing his best to control himself in the moment.

He draws back, and he watches as your tongue darts out a little, picking up the taste of his wetness. Your brows furrow together a little, but your face slackens again after a moment. Jaehyun dips his hips forward again, tip pressing just inside your lips, the wet heat of them wrapped so briefly around his tip.

“Fuck,” he moans softly under his breath. He wants to fuck your mouth, to feel you all around him.

As he pulls back again only to press his tip once more between your parted lips, Jaehyun wonders if he should worry about you biting his cock. You’re not awake, you don’t know not to bite down on what’s in your mouth. He can only hope that instinct keeps you from mangling him.

Instinct seems to win out as he strokes his fingers over your cheek and he sinks his hips forward, pressing his cock deeper into your mouth which easily opens for him. His cock slides over your tongue, and he can feel you swallowing around him as he goes deeper.

“So perfect for me, babydoll.” Jaehyun praises quietly. “Know what to do for me even when you’re not awake. Must be a whore’s instinct.”

Jaehyun reaches around behind your head, his hand curling there as he begins to pull out of your mouth only to thrust back in as he feels your lips go tight around his shaft, the sweet suction of your mouth around him too much temptation to pull away from.

He fucks your mouth like you’re nothing more than a toy, just a fleshlight for him to fuck. And your throat is willing, taking him so well. You gag around him a bit, but that’s to be expected, though he’s surprised to find that you’re still asleep.

Jaehyun knew you were a deep sleeper, partially because it came up in conversation when you were telling him about your interest in this kink, but also because he’s been your best friend for ages. He knows how difficult you are to wake up sometimes, but he didn’t think you were such a deep sleeper that you could still be out through getting your throat fucked.

Jaehyun weighs his options as he can feel that tightening knot in his core, his orgasming quickly approaching. He can pull out, fuck your pussy instead, leave you with a cunt full of his load when you wake up. Or he can stay right where he is in your delightful mouth, cum down your throat or maybe across your face.

You’re on birth control, he knows this because of the time you had a bad reaction to a new birth control prescription, and as your best friend he had to rush you to a doctor while you cried to him about your body rebelling against your need to have sex. When the two of you were holding up before, you’d used condoms because you wanted to, but what if Jaehyun fucked you tonight, he could leave your pussy dripping with his cum.

But, shit, your mouth feels like heaven. And tonight’s just one night. He can always come back again to fuck you.

The idea of coming back to do this again is what does it, pushing Jaehyun over the edge. His kink-induced orgasm rocks through him, and he spills his hot cum over your tongue, pulling out of your mouth just in time to land a couple stripes across your lips and cheek and chin. One stretches over the tip of your nose.

And Jaehyun thinks you look so pretty and cute and perfect just like this.

He slides down beside you, his head on the pillow right beside yours. He feels exhausted after a long day and that fun, lacking the energy now to even so much as tuck his cock away or make any effort to clean up the mess of both of you. Jaehyun only has the energy in him to wonder before he falls asleep how you’ll react to finding him here in the morning.

Your reaction is this:

Jaehyun is startled awake by a hard smack on his chest and your irritated voice loud beside his ear.

“Jung Jaehyun! Did you cum on my face last night?”

He tries to mumble and answer but it’s too early and bright, and all he can do is reach over. Fumbling hands move over your body which only draws some weak protests from you, before his hand lands on your thigh. Jaehyun’s fingers dig in, tugging in a way that you don’t understand.

“Jae—“ you start, but he cuts you off.

“Return the favor,” he mumbles. “Cum on mine.”

His eyes aren’t even open, and that makes you wonder if he’s even actually awake, but either way, whether he’s still dreaming or if he’s awake right now, a twinge of excitement at the idea picks up in your belly.

You do as he says, and you sit up in bed, moving up so you’re straddling your best friend (your roommate, your fuckbuddy who you maybe have some feelings for), and you sit on his face.

Jaehyun reacts quickly enough. He sleepily and lazily (but spectacularly) eats you out. And you experience half-forgotten and barely-experienced flashbacks to the night before of Jaehyun’s head between your thighs. You hadn’t been awake really for any of it, not in more than the barest version of awareness, but you remember. Jaehyun’s skilled mouth on your pussy is not one you easily forget.

He drags it out, and this early in the morning when you’re both lazy and loose-limbed still from sleep, you don’t mind the pace. You card your fingers through Jaehyun’s hair, getting wetter and wetter against his face, and Jaehyun drinks it all up, moaning periodically against you.

You cum on Jaehyun’s face at the same time as he cums across his belly, having been touching himself the whole time you sat there, and you sink back down beside Jaehyun, throwing a leg over his belly, and you tuck yourself sleepily against his side.

You feel a little gross and a lot satisfied, both of you wearing the others cum as you fall back asleep.

#Jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #kinktober 2022 #nct kinktober #kinktober

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modelbus · 2 years

Note

Hiiii can I request a Tommyinnit x fem!reader where it’s during the ‘making 100 friends in one day vlog’ where Tommy meets the reader and he gets sad when he didn’t pick up the courage to ask for her number but the reader sneakily snuck it in his pocket.

I read this request right as I started to play that video, so I'm taking it as a sign that I was meant to write this.

Final Friend

Pairing: CC!Tommyinnit x Fem!Reader

He’s trying to get his final five friends when he sees you. You’re just reading a book on a bench, maybe for school or for fun, but his eyes are drawn to you for some reason. And now that he’s seen you… well.

It’s just natural to notice that you’re pretty, right? Because you’re really pretty. Ash nudges him after he stares for too long with a knowing grin.

“Fuck off.” “Are we talking about how you were staring at that girl?” Elodie asks from behind the camera. “You should go ask her to be your friend.”

“No!” He immediately protests. “I can’t do that!”

“Because she’s pretty?”

“Exactly! Wait-“

“Talk to her at least.”

“Maybe.” He concludes.

And by maybe, Tommy means no. While he’s perfectly fine asking strangers whose opinions he doesn’t give a shit about to be his friend, he isn’t with asking you. Mostly because you’re a pretty girl whose opinion he actually cares about.

About ten minutes later he’s gone through four more new friends, leaving him just one person short of a hundred. He can’t help but glance over at you. It was a weird coincidence that you were still here, he needed one more friend, and that you were the closest person to him. Elodie and Ash had been nudging him towards you, eagerly trying to hype him up to talk to you.

Worst case scenario you tell him no, right? Technically yes, but then his ego would be bruised and he’d be embarrassed.

(and his shot with you would be gone)

Best case scenario, he gets your number and maybe even a date! But, as Dream would say, that was a one in 7.5 trillion chance. “Ask Schlatt for advice.” Elodie suggests. “Content.”

The idea that Schlatt would decide for him was the most disastrous idea ever. But the thought of it was making him smile so he starts FaceTiming his idol.

“Hey Schlatt.” He greets, acting all mopey for the camera. “I’ve been trying to make a hundred friends, and I have one left, but…”

“But what Tommy?!” Schlatt yells, face too close to the camera just like Tommy’s. “I don’t have all day!”

“I- too many bitches, yeah?”

“Yeahh!”

“So there’s this girl that is just really pretty, and Elodie and Ash are trying to get me to ask her to be my friend but I-“

“You know what I always say Tommy?!”

“Shoot guns?”

“No, no, the other one.”

“Monkey balls?”

“Eh, close enough. Go for it, Tommy. Ask her to be your friend or whatever. Fuck failure.”

“Fuck failure.” Tommy repeats, nodding. “Fuck failure! Thanks Schlatt!”

“Now hurry up and do your fucking tasks!”

Schlatt hangs up on him, and Tommy doesn’t give himself time to think it over. He turns and marches right up to you, holding his mic. Maybe he’ll even ask for your number!

“Hi! Uh, so I’m new to New York and I was trying to make a hundred friends! I’m Tom, by the way.” He holds out his mic to you, watching as you close your book with an amused smile.

Shit, he forgot to ask if you’d be his friend.

“Are you British? Sorry, the accent surprised me.”

American. He doesn’t know why it surprises him, he’s in America, but it does. Somehow he still finds himself completely absorbed in your voice.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nods. “I’ve moved here for two weeks. I’m trying to become a true New Yorker though.”

“Really? Good luck with that. Have you been to the Statue of Liberty yet?”

“No.”

“Good, no New Yorker actually goes to it.”

“That’s what everyone else said!” He laughs. “So, would you be my final friend?”

“Gladly.” Gladly! You said gladly!

“Great! Could we get a photo?”

“What good is a friend if you don’t document it?”

He sits down next to you on the bench, holding out his phone. After the photo he gets up. “Thank you so much!”

“Anytime.” It’s only after he heads to dinner for the day that he realizes he never got your number. All of that conversation and he still didn’t manage to string words together to ask.

Fucking sucks, because he genuinely thought you were a cool person. Just from that brief conversation he knew you wouldn’t be leaving his mind.

The rest of the dinner passes in miserable thoughts of “what if.”

What if he had asked for your number? What if you two would’ve became close friends through texting? What if you two would've had a great romance all because he had asked for your number? “You look so sad.” Elodie points out to him.

“I forgot to ask for her number!”

“Or her name.” He forgot to ask your name! Tommy just kept fucking things up, didn’t he? “Fuck.” He groans, tucking his hands into his pockets. Upon feeling paper, he freezes.

Tommy definitely didn’t remember having any paper on him. Maybe it was a receipt he stashed there? Pulling it out, he stares down at it.

Not a receipt: it’s a sticky note. He flips it over and grins. Your name and number. How you had managed to slip it to him he had no idea, but he was glad you did.

Ash points to it curiously.

“Her name and number!” He cheers. “I’m going to message her right now.”

Grabbing out his phone, he opens up his messages and inputs your number. Then, he begins to type.

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #dsmp #mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommy mcyt #tommy innit

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piratefalls · 4 months

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it's been a week and it's only tuesday. my brain is so tired i almost uploaded a snapshot of my dog's vet records. here's the greatest hits of everything i've read in the last week. (mind the tags on a few!)

masterlist

might blow up in your pretty face by crybabie

“I see you liked my gift,” Alex’s voice was light, but lower than Henry had ever heard it. His belly swooped at the sound. And then the words caught up with him. “Gift?” He felt the color drain from his face and frantically reopened Snapchat to confirm his worst fucking nightmare: his most recent outgoing messages had been sent to Alex, and all of them had been opened already. “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you,” Alex told him, still teasing, but he sounded muffled through the ringing in Henry’s ears. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting you to even acknowledge them, let alone send pictures. They look good on you.” - or, the next box was indeed full of thongs :)

When I Met You (I Could Not Speak) by @sparklepocalypse

Following the latest string of disastrous first dates with beautiful women to whom he’s decidedly unattracted, and with yet another circular argument with Philip about duty still ringing in his ears, Henry’s summarily fled to the countryside. Here at least, he reasons, there’s no pressure to woo the locals. (A modern fairy tale AU.)

A thousand dreams that would awake me by @kiwiana-writes

“It’s not about punishment.” Alex just nods; Henry had been very clear on the form that he wasn’t looking to be dominated or put in his place, so that won’t be new information. “And it’s not the pain as such.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the mug. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like to feel it, but I’m not looking for pain for the sake of pain. It’s more about… control, I think.” There’s a long silence. “Taking it?” Alex prompts finally. “Or giving it up?” “Does it sound ridiculous if I say both?” Or, Henry visits a sex club to get spanked the way he's craving.

Foreign Bodies by clottedcreamfudge

“We both know it's not a doctor you need,” Henry says, sharp and beautiful, hands hovering just in front of him like he wants to touch Alex, but knows exactly how it would be received; like he knows Alex would burst into fucking flames at the first brush of his fingertips. Three hours ago, Alex had been quite happy to live without being burned. Now, he thinks he'd pay for the privilege.

Well It Ain't Missionary by everwitch

Alex Claremont-Diaz, a ballet dancer, is asked to list his ‘favorite positions.’ His hilariously suggestive answer goes viral, as does the unexpectedly flustered reaction to it by the Internet’s very own FoxySexEd. So obviously, Alex has to slide into Henry’s DMs. How could he resist? When a man that attractive wants your dick, only a fool would pass. Henry is surprising. He wants to be pushed around, thrown for a loop, and he wants Alex to do it for him. But whenever Alex tries to soften his landing, Henry clams up like he’s been burned. Alex can work around that, obviously. He's a dancer. If you're gonna toe the line just right, pointe shoes are a must. Or: Alex and Henry fuck. Not in missionary.

all my time is yours to spend by smc_27

Any way you look at it, Bea is not meant to be here, and if it were just the lights, he’d assume she forgot to turn them off. The fire burning is another thing entirely. The weather has been dreadful, and perhaps her flight was canceled. Surely, she’d have told him as much. He should investigate.

i told myself don't get attached (but in my mind i play it back) by coffeecatsme

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” the woman behind the counter says, eyes wide and apologetic. Alex grits his teeth so he doesn’t say something inappropriate in a lobby full of scared families, crying kids, and the obscenely tall British guy that’s currently giving him a fucking migraine. “Due to the snowstorm warning, all the flights are cancelled, and unfortunately the room you’ve booked is currently occupied.” “Occupied,” Alex repeats dumbly, nails digging into his palm. “I booked this room three months ago.” “Yes, well, the previous occupant—” “Should’ve been out of here by now.” Alex knows he sounds harsh, he knows the stupid blond is hovering somewhere behind him listening to the whole conversation, but he can’t help it. He’s not spending what’s supposed to be his vacation alone with another guy in his room. Or, Alex and Henry are stuck in the same room in a hotel during a sudden blizzard

how do you want me? by rizcriz

“Christ,” Henry curses quietly, lowering the camera. “You’re beautiful.” Kneeling on the bed, his ankles crossed behind him, a hand tucked into his briefs, the other carefully weaved through his hair, is Bea’s friend Alex. The light sits on his skin, a delicate shadow of eyelashes fan over his cheeks, and when Henry speaks, he opens his eyes and looks at him from beneath those eyelashes, a careful smirk slipping over his lips. He doesn’t move from the pose, though, as he says, “You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.” - Or Henry’s in over his head.

The Next Draft by graceofgrayskull

“This is so unfair,” Alex says, still eyeing Henry. “What?” June asks. “That Henry Fox is talented, successful, and also mind-numbingly good-looking?” says Nora. Alex nods. “Exactly. Like my perfect nemesis. He’s coming for my brand.” -- Alex has read Henry Fox's debut approximately three times in the past three months. The novel, featuring a wary protagonist coming to terms with his sexuality, is garnering Fox critical acclaim. And maybe Alex is a little jealous — his own novel generated a surprising amount of success last year after going viral online, but it just wasn't cut out for the type of buzz Fox was receiving. So Alex jumps at the chance to meet Henry at a book signing, despite knowing very little about the man himself. What starts as a bad first impression quickly leads to fast friendship, many Instagram DMs, and a whole lot of mutual pining.

Shoot Your Shot by RoseHarperMaxwell

Jimmy raises his eyebrows in anticipation. “First celebrity crush?” As usual, Alex’s mouth is moving before his mind can catch up. “Oh,” he gestures, like this is both obvious and the easiest question he’s ever been asked. “Prince Henry.”

No Laughing Matter by inexplicablymine

Ellen is leaning over him, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfectly coiffed updo. He had never managed to understand why exactly she was always dressed so impeccably in her scrubs as a dentist. But she seemed almost presidential, even with the eyeglasses that had magnifying glasses sticking out of them making her look a little like some kind of bug. She only needs a quick look before she is snapping her gloves against her wrists pulling away. “Wisdom teeth come in and then they come out,” she says, and then as an afterthought tack on, “just like you.” Or, who said a meet cute couldn't happen while getting your Wisdom Teeth out?

Love and Hate at the Farmers' Market by @myheartalivewrites

Alex and Henry both work at a farmers' market and they hate each other, until suddenly— oops! They don't!

i'll bet it all on me and you, i'll bet it all you're bulletproof by anincompletelist

“Let’s do this,” he says. “Let’s,” Alex agrees, pushing down on the handle until the door swings open. “After you, boyfriend.” This is most definitely not his finest idea. Henry usually practices much better self preservation skills. Much better common sense skills. He steps over the threshold of Alex’s room and it feels like sealing his fate. They’re doing this for Alex to win over their bosses in a lighthearted game with a harmless lie, but Henry can’t fight off the bitter knowledge that, regardless of how tonight goes, Alex will be fine, but Henry has so much to lose.

in an emergency by metacrisis

Alex gets in his own head about a meme Henry liked and decides to take matters, quite literally, into his own hands. OR, Alex gets a sex toy and other nonsense.

(Valen)Tie Me Up by happinessofthepursuit

“Well, I actually made your gift at one of Pez’s workshops, though I’m sure they would’ve gotten it out of me anyway,” Henry says, voice fond. Alex’s mind is whirring, going through the monthly calendars from Seize the Play. Pez leads classes multiple times a week, but there’s only a few that Henry could’ve attended, and one in particular that would explain his own gift… “Which one?” Alex asks. “I think that’ll immediately be clear.” Or, Alex and Henry exchange gifts for their first Valentine’s together—then proceed to use them.

More Amour by surveycorpsjean

Alex discovers something in Henry's closet that changes everything.

Confidential Memorandum by sherryvalli

"Hello, Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's office. How may I help you?" "Hello, can I speak to Mr. Fox-Mount-krishen, please?" Alex blinked. After two weeks of hearing nothing but the voices of snooty men and frazzled secretaries calling in, the person on the other line now sounded decidedly neither snooty nor male nor in any way adult. It was a little girl. "Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's unfortunately in a meeting right now,” Alex began slowly, “but I could take a message?" "Oh." The girl paused. "You're not Mr. Hunter." Alex starts a new job as Henry's new assistant. Henry's daughter keeps calling the office and leaving him messages.

in bloom by stutteringpeach

Yoo, can u hook me up with some flowers?? It's the busiest day of the year for florists. Alex texts Henry with a last minute request.

don't want you like a best friend by @priincebutt

The thing about marrying your best friend who you also happen to have a very secret crush on, is that you don’t take into account how much it will hurt. When they’re around his family and Alex holds his hand so easily, like it’s second nature, it makes Henry’s heart skip a beat, but when they return back to his apartment the distance is deafening. Alex purposefully sits at the opposite end of the couch, and Alex sleeps in the guest bedroom, and Alex calls him ‘man’ like two bros who definitely aren’t in love with each other. So he pines, and he’s heartbroken already, because he knows how much this is going to shatter him when it’s over. Because Alex is integrating into his life like it’s nothing, like it’s easy and this could be their new normal, and that kind of thinking is fucking dangerous. Or, Alex and Henry get married, conveniently.

everyone adores you (at least i do) by matherine

Rain is coming down in sheets against the stained glass windows of the brownstone when the door swings open, ushering in the howl of the wind and the man Henry loves more than anything in the world. “Why didn’t you use your colonizer blood money to buy a place closer to the train station?” Alex calls from the doorway. Henry hears the familiar rhythm of the lock tumblers turning and Alex’s copy of the key to the brownstone clinking against Henry’s signet ring and the key to the Austin house on his chest, only vaguely muffled by the rain. “It’s miserable out there.” Or: Alex comes into the brownstone in the midst of a rainstorm, and Henry realizes he never wants him to leave.

know how to cover up a scene by HypnosTheory

“That’s how Alvie kisses Harry,” Alex says, squeezing Henry’s wrist. Henry’s eyes dart down to the slight red mark on Alex’s cheek. He hit Alex the last time they were together. Henry didn’t get to watch the bruise form then with Alex between his legs. “That’s why Harry wanders, but he always comes back.” Henry draws in a shaky breath. “Alvie’s a lucky man.” Alex’s eyes drop to Henry’s neck, where the diamond of his pendant hangs amid the forming marks Alex left behind. “Sure is." __ Henry Fox, needing an extraction, must rely on his part-time rival, full-time problem Alex Claremont-Diaz. To get that extraction, Henry needs to pose as Alex's date for a high-stakes dinner. They get in character - and stay that way behind closed doors.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged, and i'll see you next week!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift

#RWRB rec list #rwrb #RWRB fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #RWRB fanfiction #alexhenry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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websterss · 1 year

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝟐/𝟒 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Cases become harder to focus on with you being gone. Lucy tries her luck with getting Anthony to join her when visiting you, but his guilt makes it difficult to see you. When he finally finds the courage, he doesn’t expect for you to be missing from your hospital bed.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Very angtsy again, some fluff if you squint

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6,849

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! This is about 5k words more than part one was lol also the jabs thrown at the nurses and doctor are not written in hatred of them. My own sister is a nurse and I’m aware of how hard they work and the strong mentalities they have for the things they see and interact with. So hopefully it’s not taken to the heart…I don’t know why I’m even explaining this, but I overthink about shit too much, you guys probably won’t even take it to heart cause it plays into Lockwood’s whole persona…imma shut up now! I hope you enjoy it, I had a blast writing this part. Also I’m aware that I didn’t write George’s interaction with the reader, I’m saving it for part 3 <;3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Weeks passed since DEPRAC had arrived and helped place you in the back of the ambulance. The doors closing in Lockwood’s face felt like a punch to the gut as it drove away. He watched and watched until the automobile grew into a speck in the distance. He wiped away a fallen tear in hopes to save himself the embarrassment. Though his begging and pleading and almost knocking Kipp out did nothing to hide his vulnerability. They now knew first hand just how special you were to him. The importance you played in his life, the mere reason his sanity remained intact. All that was left was a broken shell of a boy who suffered a great loss. It didn’t help that multiple hands came up and touched him on the shoulder, apologizing, giving their condolences. He rolled his eyes, scoffing at their antics. You weren’t dead, not really, so it made no sense for everyone he knew to act as if you were six feet under ground. You couldn’t be gone, not when he had so much to confess to you.

It was hard to focus on anything when you crossed his mind constantly. When he stumbled upon something belonging to you or a reminder of you such as flashes of your smile or your laugh, or seeing your forgotten mp3 player in the library. They’d fore-front his lobe. He truly lost it one day when he was sitting across your vacant chair, eyes mindlessly wandering onto the thinking cloth, and there it was. A doodle you had drawn. One of a music note, and familiar lyrics to a song that you constantly had on repeat throughout the house, written below. Your subconscious thoughts were jotted down too. Silly little questions they were, but they were yours. Your thoughts and what your mind occupied. All here. You grazed the cloth with your handwriting and Lockwood was afraid that this is what would be left of you. A tingle ran down his spine. His finger traced over your penmanship. Following the curves and loops of your letters. He read a few. A smile formed on his face because you were genuinely hilarious. You never failed to make him effortlessly laugh.

♫

I could build a castle Out of all the bricks they threw at me And every day is like a battle But every night with us is like a dream

Note to self: Remind Lockwood to restock the pantry.

Do we still have donuts left? I’ve been craving a glazed one!!! :D

We’re out of donuts :,(

We’re out of tea bags. My throat is sore so I won’t get my tea before bed :(

I saw a death-glow of a dog today and it made me cry. The taxi driver must’ve thought I was mental or something :P

George is a moron >:(

“Lockwood?” Lucy followed his line of sight. He placed his hand over your handwriting. He was clearly absent minded. Mind clouded with no doubt thoughts of you. Lucy was surprised to see him grace the kitchen again. He hardly had the appetite for anything as of late. “Lockwood!”

Anthony was startled out of his thoughts. The chair scraped against the floor as he jumped back. He relaxed seeing it was only Lucy.

“Sorry Luce, didn’t see you there…” He sighed heavily. “Did you need something?”

“I only asked whether you wanted to join me today…” It finally dawned on him that Lucy was fully dressed. Her blue leather jacket draped over her crossed arms.

“Today?” He rested against the back of the chair. “Oh.”

“Thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. You’ve hardly left the house since…” She trailed off. Eyes averting from his own.

“Since.” His jaw clenched. “N-Not today Lucy.” He ran a hand over his face.

“Lockwood-“

“I can’t.” His eyes shut. Head falling. He furiously shook his head no. “I can’t. It’s unfair. We’re here and she’s not.” He points harshly behind him. “I can’t just go and sit by her, knowing that she will never wake up. I can’t Lucy…what would I even say to her?” His voice cracked at the end.

“It’s not your fault you know.” Lucy’s head titled, feeling for her friend. “It was a bad case. A visitor, too hard to handle. If what you say is true. That the visitor knocked you out cold. Then what Y/n did was an act of sacrifice. She saved you, Lockwood.” A saddened smile painted her eyes. She reached forward to touch his shoulder. This time he didn’t flinch away like he’d done before.

“And it was unnecessary.” He gritted his teeth. “She didn’t need to get herself ghost locked. I could’ve done without it. I didn’t need saving, I needed her to be okay!” He slammed his hand down on the tabletop. Lucy’s shoulder moved with a startle, her hand retreating back down to her side. Regret clouding over Lockwood’s eyes instantly. “I need her. I need her here with us. I need to make sure that she’s getting enough rest and eating. I wish for her awakening. Not hospitalized and in a goddamn comatose!” He raised his voice again.

“You miss her.” Water brimmed her waterline. Lockwood scoffed. The smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes. Missing you didn’t begin to cover half of what he felt.

“I can’t breathe.” He admits taking a great intake of air. “I wake and expect to find her lounging about, somewhere in the house, but end up realizing she’s not here and her bed is still made. I can manage on my own without her but it’s not something I want to do. It’s not something I want to continue waking up to.” His bottom lip trembled. By now he was past giving a shit about who saw him break. “I don’t just miss her, Lucy. I can’t breathe without her.”

He loves you. Is what Lucy finally settled on. She nodded understandably. The one person who held her heart was ghost locked too. A state she’d remain forever in, as would you.

“Join me...” She held her arm out, a smile reflecting back at him. He pondered the idea. Stay at home or go along with Lucy to finally see you. Would he really spend another day within the walls of his own house? Only staying on standby if a client called them to inform them of a visitor needing to be taken care of. What had his life become? He thought about it, then to Lucy’s surprise he placed his hand in hers. “Wait really?” Lucy was stunned, half expecting him to deny her offer.

“Like George said, Lockwood & Co doesn’t run from things. It’s about time I stop, no?” He gave a cheeky but solemn smirk. Lucy nodded and tugged him along through the kitchen door towards the entryway.

“George, he said yes!” Lucy yelled to the second floor. They could hear a door open and shut, hurried footsteps descending. He came into view out of breath. Shock and relief featured across his face.

“Oh thank god. I was growing rather tired of seeing him mope and sulk every day.” He placed a hand over his chest, grabbing his own coat and rapier.

“I have not!” Lockwood grew offended.

“Yes you have!” Both of them said, nodding in agreement.

“Two against one, quite an unfair fight don’t you think so...” He scoffed then was the first one out the door. If you were here you’d do your very best to counter their bullying, provide an equilibrium. The two glanced at each other before following the brunette out the door.

The ride to the hospital had him feeling anxious, but once the three of them stepped foot into the elevator, all courage had gone out the door. He received a few stares from his constant foot tapping. Lucy held his hand to calm him down, but he was anything but calm. It had been weeks since the case. However, he was finally in the one place he tried to avoid. He didn’t quite know how Lucy was able to visit you. To have the strength to see you in such a position. He knew that Lucy was able to relate. After having asked about her past life. He was let in on the life she used to have with her best friend Norrie. They made plans to come to London and be the most famous agents together. Though those dreams had been ripped from them. Their plans were put on pause after Norrie remained in ghost lock. It was nerving, he was scared. Your milky white eyes never left his mind. They haunted him day and night. He’d stay up all night to avoid seeing them in his dreams, not like he ever had any though. He was finally here though. George and Lucy would be there by his side at all times. He braved on when the doors finally dinged. He heavily sighed and stepped out first, walking to the front desk to check in. Then they found themselves heading to your room. They didn’t think anything of it when your doctor and two nurses loitered outside your closed door. He honestly thought nothing bad of it. Yet, he was incredibly wrong.

“What are you not telling us?” Lockwood eyed the doctor. His eyes moved past his shoulder to the gray door that the doctor was blocking. They had just been told by your doctor that they weren’t allowing visitors at the moment.

“Mr. Lockwood, if you could please sit down. I think it would be best to talk somewhere quieter- Mr. Lockwood!” The doctor called out to him as he had shoved past him. He pressed down on the lever of your door and pushed it open. He barged in and halted. Dread immediately filling him. He felt nauseous, his tie suddenly too tight and choking him. Lucy and George pushed past the nurses trying to hold them back. They too came to a stop when they entered your room.

“What the fuck?” Lucy cursed as her eyes stared widely at your bed that you were not in.

“I’m gonna be sick...” George got the chills.

Lockwood slowly turned to look at the eyes trying to avert their gazes. Anger and confusion coursed through him when he asked. “Would someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?” The doctor and nurses all looked at one another. Mouths opening and closing not knowing what to say because they too had no idea what the hell was happening. Your doctor took it upon himself to speak to Lockwood, which only seemed to further upset him when he opened his mouth.

“What do you mean you’ve lost her? How do you lose a girl in a comatose state?” Anthony asked rhetorically. “People in ghost lock don’t just miraculously get up and walk out the door!” Anthony flailed his arms and hands around. He was pissed. Furious when the three of them arrived at your room to find you missing. He ran a hand down his face. Too tired to deal with the staff, and too tired to let his emotions run rampant, but you were gone. You weren’t in your room, you weren’t laying in your bed, and all the nurses, and your doctor of all people, had no clue where you were. Were you moved? Did someone take you in spite of him? Was someone out for leverage and wanted to get revenge? God he hoped it was none the latter.

“I came yesterday, Lockwood. I promise you she was here.” Lucy assured.

“Yeah, she was right here. Lucy even sang her favorite song. Brought her favorite jumper too and everything. Swear!” George was her alibi. Having joined her when Lockwood wouldn’t turn them down. Now when he had decided to say yes, you were missing. What were the odds of that? Lucy’s stomach felt queasy. She looked around the room, and began panicking.

“Where is her jumper?” Lucy walked over to the chair next to your bed.

“What do you mean?” Lockwood's hard demeanor faltered.

“Her jumper. It was right here. I left it right here, yesterday! It’s gone!” Lucy turned back to face everyone, her face fell.

“Did you lose her jumper too?” Lockwood asked the three people behind him with spite. “The staff were under strict instructions to monitor her and watch over her…” He casted them a narrowed glare. He turned around. Facing the foot of your bed now. His hands opened and gestured to its emptiness. “Where the hell is she?” He exclaimed.

“Mr. Lockwood, I can assure you that we have been watching over your friend with great attentiveness.”

“Yes it shows.” He hummed.

“Now Mr. Lockwood-'' The doctor stepped forward, but was cut off.

“What if she’s awakened?” One of the timid nurse’s suggestions caused his hardened features to soften. His gaze falling onto hers. What would be the chances of it? The idea was absurd. No one, and he means no one has ever awakened from ghost lock. Yet a speck of hope ignited something within him. What once was lost hope for your recovery, now revived itself again. Maybe. Just maybe. He thought.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You and I both know that’s impossible.” He scoffs, a humorous smile painting his mouth. He didn’t want to be given false hope, not when it came to you.

“Ghost exist. Anything is quite possible really.” Well when she put it that way. “Who's to say she didn’t wake when we left the room and wandered off? It would be the only plausible explanation.”

He observed your room more thoroughly from where he stood. Lucy and George looked around again too.

He glanced over to your empty bed, the covers had been clearly ruffled and thrown towards the edge. He subconsciously reached down, letting the fabric of the sheets collide against his fingertips as he caressed them. His heart rate picked up again. Not wanting to consume the possibility but there were no signs, no evidence of a struggle, no attempts of a break in, or furniture splintered and thrown. The only reliable evidence was that you no longer frequented the now discarded bed, and all your wires and heart rate monitor had been taken off, not removed.

Please, please. He prayed. He looked over his shoulder at the nurses and doctor patiently waiting by the door. If the chances of your awakening were true, then you couldn’t have wandered very far. You were probably lost or confused. No one has ever encountered an experience such as this one. Such as your case. No one knew what would come of someone who suddenly woke up out of nowhere. Would you still be yourself? Would your eyes remain a milky white glaze? God, how he missed their e/c color. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Here’s the plan...We each take a floor. George, take the first. Lucy, you take the second, and I’ll stay here to search. Move onto the next floor if you’re out of luck. Questions?” He remained stoic. Being the one to take charge in this current unsettling situation. He bore it all so everyone else in his life didn’t have to.

“Lockwood, do you really think she’s awakened?” Lucy's breath shook. Your jumper no longer thrown over the chair she would sit in, gone, gave her goosebumps. The idea scared her, but if it led to being true then she was willing to do whatever it took to find you. Find you first to give you the biggest hug ever.

“I don’t know Lucy...” He trailed off. Then led the group out of your room. “Alright. Whoever finds her first then...” He nodded to them, then began walking down the hall. Lucy and George were dumbfounded, not expecting him to walk off so quickly. “Use the stairs!” He called over his shoulder.

“Where’s the stairs?” Lucy turned to ask one of the nurses.

“Down the hall to your right.” She gestured past Lucy’s shoulder.

“Then there remained one.” George stood in the same position. Casting a light smile to the nurse who wanted nothing more than to work on her charts. “Alright...” He didn’t even bid them a goodbye, simply followed Lucy down the staircase.

The trio each took to their assigned floors. George covered the first floor, asking and describing your characteristics. The height you were, and what you would be wearing, though none of the passer byers seemed to see anyone with your description. He was hardly the socializing type, so when most ignored him, his frustrations fused up.

Back up to the third floor. Once George and Lucy were out of sight Lockwood bolted. He ran down the halls, checking each room, asking even the patients themselves, if they had seen you. Asking different nurses than the ones who tended to you. He was on a mission. Desperate to find you. To relieve him of his living nightmare. Lucy asked him if he believed that you were truly awake. Yes, he did. He wished for it day and night, now here he was rushing around the third floor hoping you’d be there around every corner he turned into. The only real success he had was the old man in the room next to yours. Something about a girl asking where he got his jelly cup. That had been enough to make his heart skip. His eyes gleamed with hope. Desire and delight overflowed within him. He thanked him, and walked out his room. Spotting one of the previous nurses, he rushed up to her out of breath. There was only one place he could think of that you’d set your mind to, if you really were the girl who asked the man where he got the jelly cup.

“What floor is your refectory again?”

The nurse stumbled over her words. Mouth opening and closing at his odd question. Then not wanting to further test Anthony Lockwood’s patience, she told him. “First floor.”

He gratefully placed his hand on her shoulder, thanking her and hurriedly rushed past her. Refusing to take the elevator, he pushed the exit door and descended with haste.

Lucy searched thoroughly on the second floor. She ran down the hallways, asking, shouting whether anyone had seen a girl with the descriptions she gave like George had done. Wondering if you were wandering around helplessly. Though none recalled the description Lucy gave them. No memory of seeing someone like you. She waved them off, taking it into her own hands to find you. She honestly didn’t know how she wasn’t getting whiplash from how fast she turned her head left from right. Glancing into open rooms or towards patients wandering the halls. She made it to one end, turning a sharp right at the corner. Though the right turn only basked in a red bright sign saying exit. Her hands fell to her sides. When she turned around to head on left, her shoes squeaked against the gray vinyl tiled floor. Her feet moved before her mind could comprehend what she was seeing. Her heart picked up because there before her stood you. You in your beautiful glory. Fully conscious, your hospital gown still on, but now you dawned your blue green jumper that was missing from your beside chair. The one she brought to you during her last visit was staring right at her. She kept blinking, not believing you to be real. To be standing upright and walking like you didn’t just awaken from a comatose state. Like you didn’t just come out of being ghost-locked, something everyone perceived to be impossible. The unimaginable was right in front of her though. You were okay. It felt too good to be true, but the soft rasp of your voice asking the nurse stationed at the front desk of the second floor a question, was enough to convince Lucy otherwise.

“E-Excuse me...would you be able to direct me in the direction of the refectory?” Your hands held the edge of the rounded counter. You waited patiently for a reply, biting your lips timidly, but the nurse on the phone only dismissed you with a wave of her hand. Lucy saw the fall of your shoulders, her heart breaking, watching your hands falling back down to your sides. You only smiled at her, bidding her a thank you and turned to walk off. That was the fifth person who refused to help you. You weren’t asking for much. Just a slight guide to make sure you were going the right way. You looked up from your slippers. Startled from the fact you almost collided with someone. “Oh I’m sorry!” You apologized. This was also your fifth person you accidentally collided with. You grew anxious watching her eyes widen at you. Like she’d seen a ghost. “Miss, are you okay?”

“What? I’m sorry. Sorry it’s just...I can’t believe you’re awake.” She sniffled, blinking back the water that brimmed her waterline. A very affectionate laugh and smile rang through your ears. It provides you with some warmth. Her presence was very welcoming compared to the other encounters you’ve faced. She reached forward, letting out a laugh in disbelief. You were real. It didn’t take her long to wrap you up in her arms. You yelped out in surprise, not expecting her to do such a thing. Though you didn’t pull back. Oddly enough, it felt nice. The first form of kindness someone has shown to you today. “You’re okay. You’re awake and okay!” She laughed out loud. She pulled back holding you at arms length. “My god your eyes, look at them!” She beamed, her eyes teary up again. Your eyes no longer held a milky glaze to them. No gray dullness reflecting back to her. They were reverted back to their original color. One she never thought to see again, but she did. She cupped your face. Your eyes softened, taken back from her sweet act of affection towards you. “Wait till Lockwood sees you...and George! Oh they’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you. Our room isn’t as fun without you!” She joked. Lucy felt her world start to piece back together, but it remained broken within a second. Her heart sank when the lack of realization in your eyes stared back at her.

“Lockwood?” Your brows furrowed. “George? Who are they?” Lucy let her hands fall from your arms.

“Come off it now. It’s not funny, Y/n.” Lucy’s eyes held fear and anger. “W-What’s my name?” She held out hope for you. That you weren’t playing a cruel prank on her.

“I’m sorry...” Your heart felt for her. You shook your head. You timidly averted your gaze. The sleeves of your jumper swallowing your hands. Clearly this girl knew you, but you had no recollection of her. The hallway filled with silence, but not for long since you spoke again. “I-Is that my name? Y/n?” Lucy finally did cry. You poor thing. You had been wandering the halls helplessly. No memory of your friends or your own identity.

“You really don’t know?” Lucy’s shoulder’s fell. The shake of your head was all she needed to know. She reached forward to grab your hands. You let her as she was the only one to give you a sense of certainty. She knew your name, when you had failed to remember it. “Yes.” She reassured you. “Your name is Y/n Y/L/N. Y-Your favorite color is green. Your favorite song is New Romantic by Taylor Swift, which you love to sing very loudly at home. It drives the boys crazy, but they love it when you sing. Your favorite dish is a beef broth that George likes to make when it’s too cold to go outside. You love tea, you prefer it to coffee. Two spoons of honey for a sweet taste. You’re my best friend…and you don’t take shit from anyone.” You clung to every word she told you. You cried too because this complete stranger gave you an identity to hold onto.

“I sound cool.” You half-heartedly laugh. Lucy breaks out into a beaming smile. She nodded.

“You’re very cool, and very funny too. You never fail to make others laugh.”

“I am...” You breathe out.

“Yes. You are.” You accept it. That you’re all these wonderful things she says you are, and that you love and do things the way she says you do. It’s a lot for you to grasp, but you're hopeful. Hopeful that all these wonderful things about yourself will come back to you. Though it hurts your heart when you fail to remember her name. Not knowing it.

“What’s your name?” You softly let out. Lucy accepts your question with a smile, not taking offense to it. She tightens her grip on your hands. Bringing them up to place a kiss upon them.

“Lucy. Lucy Carlyle.” You nodded. You repeat it over and over until you memorize it. Until it’s engraved into your brain. She looks past your shoulder, seeing the nurse you had spoken to before. Then glances back to you, looking at you looking down at your slippers. Curiosity gets the better of her, and if you were in need of help, she wanted to offer it.

“You asked the nurse where the refectory was...” Your head snapped up. Your smile widened, nodding furiously.

“Yes. Do you know where it is? This nice old man in the room next to mine was eating some jelly in a cup. I asked where he got it, and he said they get them from the refectory. He told me it was on the first floor, but I seem to be turned around.” You laugh at yourself. You gesture to the hall you ventured down with open arms.

“Come on, I’ll take you.” Lucy held out her arm for you to interlink with hers. Your smile grows again as you thank her. She continues down the hall, taking things slower now that she has found you. You weren't all present at the moment, but she would make sure you were looked after. She pressed her thumb on the downward arrow beside the elevator doors. You watched as the button glowed bright, then the doors separated. You both entered, Lucy going for the first floor button but you beat her to it. She shook her head, her mouth tugged upward. “What color of jelly would you like?” She watched as your eyes widened. Your mouth agape.

“There’s different colors!” You were amazed. “The nice old man had a red one.” You recall.

“Then we’ll get you a red one.” You nodded, rocking on your heels, watching the numbers change. The number one taking place overhead of the doors. The doors dinged and Lucy held her arm out again to loop yours around hers. She pats your hand as she asks for the way to the refectory. A tall fella pointed down past a few seating areas. Phone pressed to his ear as he waves you both goodbye. Lucy thanks him and you fall in sync with her steps, eager and excited to eat the jelly you went on a mission for. She laughs, watching you observe everything you pass. You reflect that of a child in a candy shop.

Lockwood had to catch his breath when he bursted through the emergency exit door. A few passer byers startled and stared at him with confusion and judgment. He hunched over, hands falling to his knees as he tried to slow his heart rate down. When his lungs' air capacity was restored again, he stood tall. Recollecting himself, straightening the tie that flapped around when he hurried down the steps.

“Lockwood!” George’s voice caused his head to snap in his direction. The curly haired boy ran towards him, slightly out of breath as well.

“George!” He greeted him, swallowing the burn in his lungs. He needed a sip of water and fast.

“Where have you been? I ran up to the third floor in search of you, but you were nowhere.”

“Where have I been?” He was flabbergasted. “I was on the third floor.” He places his hands at his hips.

“Doesn’t matter you’re here now. Look Lucy fo-” Lockwood cuts him off.

“Listen I have a lead-” He began, his heart settling down. “The old man in the room next to hers said that there was a girl who asked-”

“Lockwood listen to me-” George tries again.

“Him where he got his cup of jelly. My guess is that it was her that’s why I think that she’s headed for the refect-”

“Lockwood, Lucy found her!” George grabbed his shoulder and shook him. Lockwood was stunned into silence. His heart beat against his chest. His shoulders fell in George’s grasp.

“W-What?” He gasped.

“A little late on the lead, but you’re correct, she was heading for the refectory. Lucy found her on the second floor asking a nurse for directions.” He informed him. He observed his friend in front of him. Wondering if he was going to collapse from the glint of hope in his eyes and disbelief written over his face.

“She found her...” He breathed out. Wanting to ensure that he was hearing George right. “As in-” Lockwood dipped his chin in hopes that George would expand on his choice of words.

“As in, she's awake.” George nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. He patted Lockwood’s shoulder, laughing a little, as a light laugh emitted past Lockwood’s own lips.

“She’s really-” He choked up. “Oh my god!” He went to move past George, but was tugged back when George grasped his wrist. “George?” He questioned the hand that prevented him from going down the hall. He noticed his hesitation. “What is it George?” He looked at him, then down the hall. Concern now dawned his features, eyes furrowed thinking the worst of the worst. “What’s happened to her?”

“N-Nothing’s happened...” He reassured the brunette.

“Then let go.” He lightly laughs. Lockwood was slowly losing his patience. “Why won’t you let me see her?” He frowned. George looked away. “George!” He pressed.

“If you’d just let me explain. You need to know a few things before you see her okay.”

“What’s there to know? I know all there is to know about her. Down to her favorite pair of socks she loves to wear.” He laughed, shaking his head at George’s antics. “George, let me go...” There was a smile on his face, but the edge in his tone gave off a warning.

“Just don’t get upset with her okay?” George’s eyes softened. A faint smile on his face. He was scared and worried he would get mad at you? He’d do no such thing.

“Let me go.” At last, he was able to take back his arm. He held his wrist, gave George a once over, then hurried down the hall into a big array of seats. Multiple people, family, friends, crowded the space, but he only had one person set out to find. His eyes scanned each face, each seat for someone in a unicorn gown, and blue green jumper. Though instead of finding you, his eyes had fallen onto Lucy walking from the serving area with a tray in her hands. Her eyes scanned the area too, and when her eyes fell onto Lockwood already looking at her, she slowly met him halfway. He looked down at the tray, a sandwich, orange juice, and two cups of jelly filled the tray. A spoon and a few napkins too. He looked back up to meet her gaze.

“Please tell me you’ve gathered an appetite.” He held her gaze with hope. He knew. He just knew.

“Afraid not...” She sighed. She scanned him, wondering what he was feeling at this moment. She met George’s eyes past his shoulder.

“W-Where-'' He pleaded silently. Eyes telling her to show him. Have her take him back to where you are sitting. She met George’s eyes again, a silent conversation happening before Lockwood. He felt uneasy, not understanding why they wouldn’t let him in. She motioned with the tilt of her head. A silent act to have him follow her. Lockwood wiped his palms down his slacks. Inhaling and exhaling as his eyes looked out for you. When Lucy had set your tray in front of you, it took him a second to fully register seeing you. You thanked her, your stomach growling as you looked down at your lunch. Your eyesight followed up from the cups of jelly sat on the top of your tray, then continued upwards to the dark hue before you, all the way up to the new face staring back at you. You shied back, mouth opening as you looked to Lucy for your lack of recognition. She nodded. So this was him? The one you had to be gentle with. You heard the guy choke back a sob as he slowly rounded your table, kneeling before you as he grew closer. You could only watch as his hand extended forward slowly, then gently cupping one side of your face. When he touched you, he let his hands caress over your skin, realizing that it was actually you. He let out a cry of relief. Tears brimming his eyes. He cupped the back of your head and pulled you into a hug. His face fell into the crook of your neck. Then lifted to place a kiss against your temple. He pulled back, face a few inches from yours. A beaming boyish grin, staring back at you. It gave you sudden butterflies.

“I thought I lost you...” His eyes crinkled at the corners. His other hand reached up to fix a stray hair. He felt whole again. His smile hadn’t faltered. You were here. You were okay. You somehow came out of your ghost lock, something he was curious about, but was too preoccupied to worry about at the moment. “Y-You’re eyes!” His laughter boomed out loud. “You’re beautiful eyes. I thought I’d never see them again. They’re as gorgeous as I remember them. I’m so glad you’re okay.” He nodded, trying to remind himself that he wasn’t dreaming. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” He worked up a smile. A teasing edge in his tone. “I don’t care if you hate me for eternity. You’re demoted to research with George until further notice, no questions asked.” He laughed. It hadn’t yet dawned on him, your lack of reactions. He closed his eyes again, pressing a kiss to your temple. The act of affection was nice, but it made you question so many things. He pulled back, one hand still cupping your right cheek. He looked back to Lucy and George sat across from you, an unreadable expression on their faces. “What were you so worried about George?” He teases. A smirk formed on his lips as he took the vacant seat next to yours. He scooted it up to sit closer. Then his eyes fell onto your tray. He instantly removes the circular lid of one of the plastic cups for you. He casted a charming smile your way. Then reached for your spoon, you accepted it gratefully, digging in to stuff your empty stomach. He went to open your juice as well. George and Lucy exchanged looks as they watched Lockwood now remove the wrapping of your sandwich. He lifted his hands not finding a knife. He looked up to the serving area, there wasn’t much of a line so he took that as his chance to go. “Let me get you a knife okay.” He turned to you, getting up to place yet another kiss on your temple. As soon as he was out of earshot, George caved.

“We have to tell him!”

“No!” Lucy laughed the idea away. It shouldn’t have even been a choice. “Are you crazy?” Her chin dipped, her eyes widened. “That’d be social suicide, did you not just see how happy he was? We cannot tell him! Don’t you dare tell Lockwood, George!” She warned him with a point of her finger.

“Tell me what?” Lucy jumped in her seat, Lockwood only smiled as he took his place beside you again. He watched as you took the last bite of your jelly. When your arm reached forward to grab your drink, he had already been placing it in front of you. The cap twisted off easily since he loosened it for you. You gulp down a few sips. You side eye Lockwood who was already watching you. You gasped when you finished. A small smile on your face, one he reciprocated quickly. He opened the lid of your other cup and gave it to you. You dipped your spoon instantly. This gave him time to cut up your sandwich in a triangular way. He places the plate in front of you. Taking your trash, to throw later. He softly chuckled, when you bit into it. “Good?” He chuckled again. You hummed. “Don’t worry you’ll be back home eating real food in no time. Which reminds me I need to go talk to the doctor about when you’ll be discharged. The sooner we leave the better. Things can get back to normal...” He looked back at you. “Well as normal as things can be.” He laughed. He looked at George and Lucy, worried gazes staring back at him.

“Okay what is with you two? You’ve been awfully quiet, and that’s not normal for you George.”

“Care to take this one Luce?” George gestured to him.

“What? Tell me what?” He recalls her dismissal of telling George not to tell him something. Clearly a secret, it appears.

“Lockwood?” The use of his last name startled him, especially when it came from you. He snapped his head to you. Eyes furrowed, but he brushed it off. “You said I’m demoted to research?” The confusion in your eyes rattled him. “What did you mean by that?”

“You know…research for our cases.” He mustered a light hearted laugh, but it faded slowly. He didn’t miss the way Lucy and George sat up straighter. He too sat up taller. Whereas you slouched, trying to make yourself smaller. You were clearly someone important to the person next to you, much so that he went out of his way to open your drink and cut up your food into smaller portions. Yet, you only knew so much from what Lucy quickly informed you on, before his arrival. “Lockwood?” He laughed. “Getting tired of calling me Anthony now?” He meant well, but the surprise that struck you made his smile fall.

“Anthony?” You met Lucy’s gaze. “Oh, but you called him-” Lucy frowns, shaking her head. You realize your mistake, hand placed over your mouth. “Lucy called you Lockwood. I didn’t know I referred to you differently.”

You didn’t know?

You didn’t know you referred to him as Anthony?

“Y-You always call me Anthony...” His voice shook, eyes narrowing as dread casted over him. “You told me that my name is beautiful. That more people should say it...So you call me by my first name instead.”

How did you not remember?

What the hell was happening?

“I do?” You were filled with guilt instantly, watching the last bit of hope leave him.

“You did.” Your heart sinks to your stomach at his use of past tense words. Lockwood’s eyes avert from yours as he starts to realize why George and Lucy were acting differently. You woke up with amnesia. Having no recollection of them whatsoever. He ran a hand down his face, then stood up. The scrape of his chair caused a few heads to turn towards him. He glanced one more time at you then stormed off. Lucy called out to him to come back.

“I didn’t mean to upset him.” You frown. Lucy holds her hands out to you, shaking her head in reassurance.

“You did nothing wrong. I promise.” She smiles quickly. “George, stay with her, okay.” She then gets up to chase after Lockwood.

“I’m sorry!” You call out to her.

“It’s not your fault, Y/n.” George smiles sadly, reaching out to rub the top of your hand placed on the table top. “Lockwood is just a bit- This whole situation is-” He couldn’t think of a word.

“Gentle...” You voice the word Lucy told you.

“Yeah…gentle.” He nodded. You stay seated, eating your lunch quietly when a loud voice can be heard. Multiple heads turn towards the source.

“Do not touch me!” You flinch in your seat, the angry voice of Lockwood echoing from down the hall, unsettles you. You glance back to George who offers a grimace.

“Everything will be fine...” George nods, mostly saying this to convince himself.

“I think I’ll have a few words with her doctor instead!” You glance back to the hallway, then to George.

“Mostly fine...” He lets out a light laugh.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood imagines #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood oneshot #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood and co imagines #lockwood & co #lockwood and co fanfiction #my gif #writings by juls

623 notes · View notes

midsummernightwrites · 2 years

Text

moments while you’re away

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x female reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: You always missed Bradley when he was deployed so you start writing him notes while he’s away. You don’t send them, but they make you feel like he’s still around when he’s hundreds of miles away. // small moments where Y/N (and eventually their son Nick too) writes letters to Bradley about what he’s missing while he’s away

warnings: none that i can think of, it’s mostly fluff with some small moments of angst.

It was never easy when Bradley was away on deployment.

From early on, you struggled when he was gone. You missed him beside you as you slept. You longed for his laughter to fill the room as you made breakfast in the home you made together. No reassurances could quell the lingering anxiety that filled your stomach anytime you imagined what he was doing miles away.

You never wanted to add to his worry so you tried to cope with him being away as best you could. You tried tennis and pilates and other physical activities to try and distract your heart. You invested in knitting needles and a new yoga mat with a matching workout set but none of it helped when you returned to your empty house.

Nothing seemed to work until you started writing notes one late September night.

Bradley had been gone for a week and wasn’t due home for at least two more. You were distracted with the start of the new school year but had so much you wanted to tell him about your new classroom of third graders. There were always so many stories you wanted to share with him, but the phone calls were never long enough and you occupied yourself with other activities as soon as he returned.

So, you decided to write them down and put them somewhere safe so that you could share them once he was home.

Hi Roos,

You helped me earn some cool teacher cred with my students today…

“Ms. Y/L/N, look! I made a plane!” one student excitedly shared as you walked around during their free play time.

“Wow, that’s amazing my friend!” you replied, pausing at their desk. “Did you know my friends are pilots?”

“Really?”

“Yup! They fly jets for the Navy,” you shared, “They go super fast and travel all over the world to help protect us.”

“You know real life pilots? Are you lying Ms. Y/L/N?” another student chimed in.

“I’m telling the truth, I promise,” you laughed, “Remind me to show you all some pictures during our share time tomorrow.”

“Can we meet them? I wanna see a real life pilot!”

“Can we go on the planes?”

After the first note, it became routine to write these small letters to Bradley. You kept them in a box underneath your bed and over the years, as your relationship grew, the box became full of scribbled messages and short letters.

Bradley,

You haven’t called or texted me in four days and I’m so scared. I’m trying to believe that you’re just busy or can’t be on your phone for some stupid classified reason but I’m so terrified that something bad happened. I really hate your job right now and I really need you to tell me that you’re okay.

You checked your phone every five seconds. You tried to distract yourself with the latest episode of the Bachelor but even trashy reality tv couldn’t take your mind off the intense fear you felt as you still didn’t hear from him.

Was he already dead? Had he already left you? You couldn’t stop the what if scenarios as they swirled around and around in your head. You had to hide in the staff restroom during lunch when you couldn’t hold your tears in any longer. He had never gone this long without contacting you, not without warning or an explanation before.

“It’ll be fine, he’s fine,” you repeated to yourself as you held back tears. You couldn’t stop fidgeting with the necklace he had gifted you for your one year anniversary and you were running on limited sleep since your dreams had quickly turned to nightmares about all the potential ways Bradley was hurt.

You heard a car pull up and your heart started racing. Was this that moment? The moment when you heard a knock at the door and opened it to find two strangers in a uniform who’d deliver the worst news of your life.

God he couldn’t be gone, not yet.

Instead of a knock, you heard the front door unlock. You jumped up as it opened, and nearly burst into tears at the sight of Rooster walking through the door.

“You’re home,” you muttered, your body moving on auto pilot as you jumped into his arms. He was okay, he was here, he was home.

“I missed you so much baby,” Bradley held you tight, pressing soft kisses on your head as you buried your face in his neck. As much as you never wanted to leave the comfort of his hold, you couldn’t stop the lingering anxiety in your stomach.

“What happened?” You demanded as you pulled back. “You didn’t answer any of my texts or even tell me you were coming home. I thought, I mean, god Bradley, I was so worried.”

Your voice shook slightly as a few more tears escaped. The guilt on his face was blurry, but still there as he set you down next to him on the couch.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, so fucking sorry,” He wiped your tears away, placing soft kisses on your lips between his apologies. “There were some issues with our mission and I broke my phone and service was bad the whole way back to base and I should have found a way to let you know I was okay but I just wanted to get home to you and hold you in my arms. I won’t ever go that long without letting you know first, I promise.”

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re home,” you cut off his rambling with a kiss. “I’m just happy you're here with me again.”

Dear Bradley,

I miss you whenever you leave, but it’s especially hard now that I’m reminded of you anytime I look at the ring on my finger. Penny tried to distract me today but it didn’t work too well…

“Y/N, are you still there?” Penny’s voice pulled you away from the tiny details on your engagement ring.

“Hmm?’ You looked up across the bar at her. “Sorry, I zoned out a bit there.”

“I could tell,” Penny replied. It was a quiet night at the Hard Deck so you stopped by to keep Penny company. It helped that she was typically able to distract you and you frequented the bar more when he was gone. “Have you two talked about what you want to do?”

“Not much yet.” You twisted the ring around on your finger. “I want it to be outside, I think. I’m going to start looking for my dress once Natasha is back stateside. But, we don’t have many details yet. I want Bradley to be here to help.”

“He’ll be happy as long as you're happy.”

“I know, but I want it to be perfect, for the both of us.”

Dear Roos/Dad,

Well, aren’t you lucky? Now you get letters from your two favorite people on the planet. Nick has really been missing you lately so I decided to share this secret with him. He’s so excited to write to you.

“It’s not fair,” Nick muttered, his arms crossed as he refused to look at you. He instead kept his gaze locked on the porch step below him. You sat a couple inches away, wanting to be there for him while also giving him some space to work through how he felt.

“It’s not fair, you’re right.” Nick was getting older and as he did, his understanding of his father’s job grew as well. He was no longer content with the short answers about how dad was protecting others in his plane and would be home before he knew it.

Today, he had returned from school with a scowl on his face. You didn’t have to wait long for him to share the reason behind his anger. One of his friends at school had brought up how a relative of theirs had died while deployed and had gone into too much detail for a second grader. Nick was not happy to learn how much danger his father was really in when he was away. He yelled, and screamed and demanded that his daddy come home. He stomped away to the backyard when you answered that it wasn’t that simple.

He was angry, he was scared and it broke your heart.

“I don’t want him to go away anymore,” Nick mumbled a few moments later. “What if he doesn’t come back?”

“Come here honey,” You opened your arms and Nick fell right into them, a few tears escaping. “I know it’s scary, I still get scared every time dad goes away. I promise you, he will always try to come home to us. He loves you so much.”

“But what if something bad happens?”

“I’m not going to lie honey, there is a chance something bad could happen. Your dad is doing everything he can to be safe. Plus, he has your Uncle Jake and Aunt Natasha and Uncle Bob and so many other people looking out for him. They’ll help keep him safe.” You ran your hand through his hair as you tried to comfort your son.

“I miss him.” You tightened your arms around your boy.

“I do too.” You gave your son a few moments to get his tears out before sharing your next idea. “Can we make a deal?”

After a few seconds, you felt your son nod.

“When your dad comes home, you can ask him any questions you want about his job, okay? Maybe we can even go see some of the planes again. Will that help you feel better?”

“Can Grandpa Pete come see the planes with us too?”

“I’m sure he would love to,” You smiled as your son looked up at you, his tears almost gone. “Do you want to know what I like to do when I miss your dad?”

“What?”

“It’s a secret, one that not even dad knows.” Nick’s face lit up at the thought of knowing a secret not even his own father knew. “Can you handle that?”

“Yes, I can! I promise!”

“When your dad is away, I like to write him notes. I write down different stories and things I want to tell him and it makes me feel better.”

“Can I write dad a note?” Nick asked.

“Of course you can, why don’t we go write some together?” You held out your hand and led Nick back inside.

“Can I draw him a picture too?”

“I’m sure he would love that.”

While you always intended to share the notes with Bradley once he returned, it slipped your mind once he was home again. You’d get distracted and over time, you found you liked keeping the letters for yourself (and Nick). It was a way for you to keep him close to you while he was away. It was your little secret.

It wasn’t until one spring day that your secret came out. The two of you were deep cleaning the house while Nick played with the newest model plane Maverick had gifted him. You hadn’t even thought of your box of notes until Bradley pulled it out from its hiding spot.

“What’s this?” Bradley asked, setting the box on the bed. You turned from your spot in the closet to see him opening the box.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s kind of silly, honestly.” You blushed a bit as he pulled out one of the many notes in the box.

“Are these notes written to me?” Bradley asked as you made your way over to him.

“Yeah, they are. I started writing them when I missed you while you were away and it helped so I just kept writing them.” You sat next to him on the bed, leaning against him as he brushed his hand through the hundreds of notes in the box. “Nick’s written a couple too.”

“He has?” Bradley’s face lit up at that. “Can I read them? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, if you want to. I mean, I originally planned on giving them to you, but you always distracted me with other activities once you got home. I know it’s silly, but it always helped when I missed you.”

“It’s not silly,” Bradley turned towards you, taking your hand in his. “I talk to you when I’m away, well, to your picture I guess.”

“You do?” Your mouth fell open a little bit at his confession. You knew he missed you while he was gone. He talked to you as much as he was allowed and kept at least two pictures of you and Nick in his flight suit pocket. You don’t know why, but you hadn’t expected him to confess to having a routine like your note writing.

“Yeah, sometimes when I miss you and I can’t sleep, I look at a picture of you and just tell you about my day. It helps me too.” He rubbed his thumb up and down your hand as he shared and you couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m glad we’re both extremely obsessed with each other.” You smiled as Bradley turned back towards the box.

“How many are in here?” Bradley laughed, pulling another note that you had written back when you were only dating.

“I don’t know, a lot.” You laughed with him, not even hearing your son’s footsteps until his gasp was heard from the doorway.

“Mom, you told dad our secret!”

“I didn’t tell him, honey, he found the box.” Nick ran over to the bed, gently placing his new toy down when Bradley picked him up.

“I can’t believe you kept a secret from me, little man!” Nick laughed as Bradley swung him around in his arms before placing him in his lap. “Can I see some of the drawings you put in here? Will you show me?”

“Yeah!”

While you were happy you could always write him a note or letter when he was gone, nothing was better than the memories you made together when he was home safe and sound.

#top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw

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okthatsgreat · 2 months

Note

ok Idk if ur like hiding spoilers so don’t answer any of this if u can’t but if u CAN please please tell me why the dating sim girls hate & ur omnipotence so much they want you dead!!!!! is it the same reason they hated the first one or different? is there a reason tamsin wants you to stay on script, knowing she’s not interested and likely doesn’t like the dating sim format she’s stuck in? id kill to play this lee

ID KILL TO MAKE THISSSSSSSSS GOD I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS!!!!!! SO MANY IDEAS THAT ARE FAR TOO AMBITIOUS

BUT i can say this a lottt of it revolves around the medium of video games/dating simulators in general. if that makes sense. like the typical dating simulator is over the course of a few weeks(??) or something, which you AS THE PLAYER are able to pop in and out of as well as restart and redo to your hearts desire. if you want a different ending then you can simply restart the week and get a different ending!! if you want to date a different girl or see all of her reactions to everything you say to her then you can do that!! that’s definitely what the LAST guy did. but the thing that at some point these four girls became AWARE he was doing that. they are the only four people in this soulless world that are AWARE that they are stuck in an endless, one month cycle that all bends to one guys whim. they had no control whatsoever about what happened because they were not created to drive the narrative forward. and protag 1 was a very bored player with a lot of free time

so at one point the npcs finally actually for real talk to each other outside of their “pre-set” dialogue. the first protag has been repeating ellies route for a while now and the others were initially resentful of her just because they for real do Nothing when their route isn’t being played. but then one day ellie goes This Sucks. and the other girls go This Sucks. and the plan is formed to confront protag 1, and whether they MEANT to murder him or not they ended up killing him, at drowsy creek which is where ellie’s ‘final date’ is. and they don’t have that long to feel terrible or anything, because the timeloop STOPS. like they actually DID IT. which is why so many of them look different when YOU show up— they were actually able to explore the world and grow as people!!!!

but then here YOU are!! the second protagonist! you have the same ability as the first guy, and suddenly all four of them are stuck in the EXACT same cycle. which is why your decisions are really important here— IMMEDIATELY a lot of them are thinking about killing you, because that clearly worked for the last guy. pushing wayyy too hard about the murder is gonna make them even MORE hostile, especially tamsin who is quite defensive (hence why she’s telling you to BACK OFF BUDDY). a lot of the endings of this game are them taking you out lmao, only for you to come righhtttt back. if you go through the game just trying to do a normal romance route, it’s likely you’re gonna get killed!! ESPECIALLY if you do ellie’s bc she’s so over it lmfao

in my dream beautiful universe where i am able to make this game, the “true ending” of the game involves the four characters waving you goodbye before the game gets uninstalled from your computer entirely. bc that is truly the only way of ending the cycle. they have to be removed from the context of a video game and the protagonist simply can’t exist

#imagine me gnawing at the fucking walls rn that is me about this imaginary video game #ask lee #lesbitching #dating sim

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emitheduck · 1 year

Text

The Copier Room (Jason Todd x Reader)*

Jason and Reader have some fun in the copier room of Wayne Enterprises Warnings: SMUT!! UNDER18, GET OUT OF HERE / PnV, AFAB MASTERLIST

“Bruce, I’ve got the files you left at the house that you wanted me to drop off.” Jason told the other man as he walked into the office, tossing the folder down onto the large desk, not really caring if the papers inside spilled out. If he wanted them all neat and tidy, he shouldn’t have forgotten them at the house. “Thank you. That’s all I needed.” Bruce said, never looking up from whatever paperwork he was currently invested in. “I think (Y/n) has some files that need to go home if you want to stop and pick them up?”

Jason froze, shaking his head. “No can do. The last time I talked to her, I completely blew it and I don’t think I can mess up again.”

Bruce chuckled. “It’s cute that you have a crush on her, but she probably didn’t even notice.”

“I don’t have a crush on her! Well, ugh I probably do..” Jason groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Talking to her just makes me feel like I’m going to puke, I get so nervous.”

Bruce dropped his pen down onto the desk, leaning back in his chair while he looked over at Jason who was playing with some paper clips. “Is the Jason Todd afraid of talking to my assistant?”

Jason tossed the paperclips into the trash. He had bent them beyond repair, and there was no use saving them now. “Listen old man, I’m not like you. I don’t usually have girls falling at my feet.”

There was a soft knock at the door, Bruce of course saying that the person could come in. In walked (Y/n), a folder in hand. “Sorry to bother you Mr.Wayne, I was just looking to get your signature on these.”

“It’s okay (Y/n), you weren’t interrupting.” Bruce smiled as she walked over to hand him the papers. “Have you met Jason? He’s been working part time in the mailroom.” That wasn’t a complete lie. Bruce has told Jason, if he wanted to continue to live at the manor, he would have to start working. So as of now, he was the personal errand boy and would bring paperwork home once every week.

(Y/n) leaned slightly against the edge of Bruce’s desk while she looked over at the other man. She was eyeing him up and down and Jason could feel sweat start to form on the back of his neck. “I don’t think we’ve formally met. Normally every time I say hi, he runs right by.”

Bruce chuckled as the other man was trying to hide his face in the collar of his leather jacket. “(Y/n), if you get the chance could you give Jason the files I set aside for him to bring home? And could you be so kind as to show him where the photocopier is so he could make some copies?”

She nodded, grabbing the folder from his now outstretched hand. “Of course. Is there anything else that you need?” She asked him while she looked over at Jason who instantly looked away from her.

“That should be good. I’ll let you know if I think of anything else.” Bruce told her as she nodded, leaving the office. He then turned to Jason. “I wouldn’t keep her waiting if I were you.”

“I’m going to kill you one day.” Jason hissed at the other man while he went to follow the woman, practically slamming the office door behind him.

(Y/n) was standing outside the office door with a manilla folder in her hand, shoving it into Jason’s hands. “Here are the files he wanted to give you, now let’s go to that copier.” She told him, already starting to walk down the hallway.

It was something about women in an office that kind of scared Jason. He swore, women in high heels walking on polished hardwood could go faster than him on a good day. Then again, he didn’t mind that she was in front of him; he had an amazing view of her ass in a pencil skirt.

“This is the copier. We might have all the money we can dream of, but this thing is kind of a piece of shit.” (Y/n) told him with a smirk as she kicked the bottom of the machine. “You can’t repeat that.”

“My lips are sealed.” Jason chuckled as he got to work to make copies of the files. “How long have you worked here?” He asked her, eyes still focused on the buttons of the machine.

(Y/n) hopped up on the counter, crossing her legs at the ankles while she watched him. “A few years. I beat out a lot of other women for this job. But I think the fact that I don’t give him heart eyes every time I see him helps.”

“Normally at a lot of jobs, sleeping with the boss can only get you so far.” Jason mumbled. “How the hell do you work this thing?”

She rolled her eyes. “You put the paper in, and just hit the copy button. It’s not rocket science.”

Jason did as he was told, of course it worked almost instantly. “Sorry, I’m just not used to having to do actual office work. That’s why they just send me on errands.” He told her, feeling his cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment.

“I’ll walk you out.” She smiled, hopping off the counter with a soft click of her heels as she went to open the door. The handle moved, but the second she tried to open the door, it didn’t budge. “That’s weird.” She said under her breath as she tried the badge that was attached to her shirt, swiping it on the key-card access. Still nothing. “Door won’t open.”

“I’ll call Bruce.” Jason told her, pulling his phone out of his pocket. It rang twice before Bruce answered. “Hey, we’re locked in the copier room.”

“Oh yeah. We had to reboot the security. Shouldn’t be longer than 15 minutes.” The other man told him. “I would come let you out, but it seems I can’t leave my office either.”

Jason held his tongue, wanting to rip the other man a new one, but decided his best option was to shut his mouth. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” He said through grit teeth as he hung up and turned to look at the woman who was back sitting on the counter. “Seems they had to reset the security, and we’re stuck in here for 15 minutes.”

(Y/n) shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m sure we can think of something to do for 15 minutes.”

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, tossing the papers on top of the machine before he hopped up on the counter to sit next to her.

“Of course you can.” She told him, slightly moving closer to him so her shoulder was brushing up against his arm.

The slight touch didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I was going to tell you, that I’m sorry I’ve never stopped to say hi.”

She laughed, a hand over her mouth to try and suppress her laughter. “I shouldn’t be laughing. I just think it’s sweet that you said sorry.”

“What’s wrong with saying sorry? I would have thought you liked an apology.” Jason faked hurt, a hand over his heart as he turned to face her.

“There’s nothing wrong with apologizing, but I just never thought you did anything wrong.” (Y/n) told him, sighing. “You know, you’re nothing like your brother.”

Jason blinked. She must have meant Dick, as Tim and Damian practically never came into the office. “You mean Dick?”

She nodded. “He really lives up to his name. No matter what I would do or say, I could never shake his attention. He would always hit on me, and while I was flattered, I just wasn’t interested and he didn’t seem to understand that.”

“Yeah, he’s dumb as a brick.” He sighed with a chuckle. “If he really was persistent, it must have meant he liked you because he’ll follow anything with a pulse--no offense to you at all but he is just the biggest ass who has ever walked the planet.”

“No feelings hurt here. Just sucked that I got all his attention, and none from the guy I really wanted it from.” She told him, glancing over at him and practically seeing the gears turning in his mind to understand what she was saying.

His mouth opened and closed, almost like a fish as he looked at her with confusion written all on his face. “Are you saying that you like me?”

(Y/n) smiled, her cheeks dusted a soft pink. “I would have enjoyed telling you months ago if you didn’t race out of here at the drop of a hat every time I tried to say good morning to you.”

Jason groaned, his head falling into his hands. “I must look so stupid right now. There I was, too nervous to say shit to you because I thought you were beautiful and out of my league, and now you’re telling me you liked me all along?”

“Did you just call me beautiful?” She asked, nudging his leg slightly with her heel.

“I must be dreaming right now. There is no damn way that this is real life right now.” He laughed, looking at her. “But yes, you are so beautiful. I’m never one to stumble over words, or get nervous around anyone, but you make me so nervous.”

(Y/n) giggled, gently grabbing his hand. “I think it’s cute.”

“Okay now I’m starting to think that I’m going crazy.” He smiled as he leaned forward, gently resting a hand on her cheek. “I’m going to kiss you now, is that okay?”

She didn’t answer, but leaned in and softly kissed him. Her hands were resting on his chest while his were on either side of her face while they deepened the kiss. She slowly leaned forward and crawled onto his lap to straddle him on the counter, causing Jason to pull away from the kiss.

“Are we going to…” His question trailed away as he raised a brow. “I’m game if you are, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Do I really make you this soft?” She asked while he started to shrug off his leather jacket. “I thought you were a bad boy? What happened to that?”

Jason smirked. “You want me to be a bad boy? Be careful or you might get yourself interested in something you can’t handle.”

“You can do whatever you want to me. Just make sure that I can make it back to work when we’re done.” She told him, her lips softly nipping at his ear.

“Pretty sure I can do that.” He chucked, his hand gently reaching down to start to unbutton her blouse. “Normally, I would just rip right through these tiny buttons, but I think if I did that you would never want to fuck me.” He mumbled as he gently took her shirt off, mouth going dry at the sight of the lacy black bra that was underneath.

“Never seen a bra before?” She teased as she climbed off his lap, shimmying her skirt off; now standing in front of him in only her matching underwear.

Jason shook his head with a dry chuckle as he quickly took his shirt off. “I’ve seen a bra, but it’s not about the clothes. It’s about the amazing boobs that I know are under there.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes as she bent down to pick up her skirt off the ground, causing him to wince. “Something wrong?”

“I hate to admit it, but you haven’t even touched me yet and I’m already hard.” He sighed, biting his lip while she reached forward to undo his belt.

His belt fell to the floor with a soft thud while she went to undo the button of his jeans. Sliding them down just enough to see where his dick was painfully pressed against his underwear. “Need me to take care of that for you?”

“Yes please.” He said breathlessly as she lowered his waistband; his dick springing free and slapping his stomach.

“Holy shit.” She gasped. “You’re huge.”

Jason turned red, not having the confidence to look her in the eyes. “I try not to brag.”

(Y/n) leaned down, one hand reaching forward to gently start to stroke his shaft; causing him to instantly throw his head back at the touch. “You should. It’s impressive.” She shot him a wink before she dipped her head down. Her tongue swiped over the tip once before she took all of him in her mouth.

“Oh my fucking god.” Jason groaned, one of his hands moving to her head as she started to bob her head back and forth. “You’re taking me so well. So good baby.” He could feel that he was getting closer; having not been touched like this in so long, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last if she continued to suck him off.

She could feel him twitch in her mouth, causing her to pull off of him with an audible pop. “Close are we?”

He chuckled with a nod. “Yeah. Would rather cum in your pussy if I’m honest.” He was grinning like a fool as he got up off the counter, picking her up with ease. “I’m going to fuck you on top of this piece of shit until it breaks.” He told her as he bent her over, tits pressed against the glass of the copier.

“I would love to see you try.” (Y/n) retorted as he slowly slipped her panties down. She was damp and sure of it, watching the piece of black fabric get tossed to the side.

“Oh baby, if you keep teasing me it’s not going to end well for you.” Jason smirked as he reached one hand up to cup her breast, hand sliding under the bra with ease. “I have a condom or are you on the pill?”

“I’m on the pill.” She breathed out, arching her back towards him.

Jason gently rolled her nipple with one hand while the other guided himself at her entrance. He slowly moved his hips forward with a sharp intake of his breath as he slid into her. “I’ll start off slow. I want to remember this moment.” He told her, moaning as she started to slide back onto him. “I never said you had to go slow.” (Y/n) gasped as he started furiously thrusting into her. Of course, still bent over the copier, pressing buttons with her hands randomly as he was thrusting. Loud beeping and papers flying out of one end all part of the fun as her body rocked against the machine. “Faster!” She breathed out, as Jason managed to up his speed, drilling into her.

“I’m not going to fuckin be able to survive if we keep going this fast.” He warned between breaths. Thank god this door was locked and didn’t have a window. “You okay if I cum inside? Otherwise it’s gonna be on your back.”

“Inside!” She had no problem moaning out as he gave a few final thrusts before coming to his release, burying his cock deep within her. (Y/n) was quick to follow, letting out one final moan as she came around him.

Jason, slightly gasping for air, leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her shoulder as he softened inside her, finally pulling out once he felt like he could see straight. “Holy fuck, that was amazing.”

(Y/n) pulled herself off the copier, noticing a slight residue of sweat from her breasts on the glass, and wiping it off quickly with her hand. “Now that we did that, you’re going to have to take me out on a proper date.” She smiled, pulling up her panties and putting them back on.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want. Whatever you want–Hell I’d do anything.” He told her while he started to hand her other clothing items; knowing it was more important for her to look professional rather than him.

“I just might have to take you up on that.” She told him with one quick kiss on the cheek while she slipped on her high heels. “Come find me at my desk when you’re dressed.” She told him, going to the door and being able to open it no problem, slipping out and leaving him in the room.

Jason wasted no time getting himself dressed; looking over at the copier and smirking. There on the paper tray was the photocopy of (Y/n)’s boobs, perfectly pressed to the glass. Yeah, he was 100% keeping that forever. He thought while he folded it up neatly and stashed it away in his pocket. Sending one quick text to Bruce before he left:

‘Hey, copier is broken, you should really get a new one’

MASTERLIST

#jason todd x reader #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #reader #reader insert #dc #wayne family #batfamily

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writer-by-the-sea · 1 year

Note

elliot w an asexual reader? trying to navigate and communicate their relationship and it ends in fluff maybe

Thank you to my friend @chenziee for helping me out with this. Please go take a look at all their Ace fics they have available in the One Piece fandom :)

Snuggled beneath the blankets, a toasty fire and a cheesy movie playing — a repeated date night like many others with the farmer that I would never grow tired of. They lean against me, their head resting on my shoulder as I take another sip of my wine. The popcorn we had earlier surprisingly paired well with the red wine, but now I felt myself becoming sleepy with the farmer here beside me keeping me warm and comfortable.

For a few weeks now, we’ve been seeing each other. Maybe not considered ‘official’ quite yet, but I could feel us moving in the same direction. Each night I spent with them I felt myself growing deeper feelings, feelings which I could only dream that they would return. As I cuddled closer to them, adjusting my position to place my arm across their shoulders, I knew that this was a relationship far beyond that of friends or even a new crush.

I was falling in love.

“Hey,” I mumbled when the movie credits began to roll, the soft singing of some unknown performer slipping through the speakers. “Do you mind if I stay the night?” I kept my gaze to the tv screen, knowing that if I were to make eye contact I might reveal just how nervous I was to ask this. Normally, in my past relationships, by this point we would be sleeping together. With my question I suddenly became aware of the old condom sitting in my wallet. Good lord, how old was that thing now? Hardly usable based on age alone, but the friction in my wallet had no doubt torn it to shreds.

I shook the thought away, there was no chance we’d be using that condom, let alone any condom tonight. I could tell the farmer has been apprehensive about becoming intimate, and if we were ever to move forward in that sense it would be when they were comfortable—

“Sure,” they replied with a smile, looking up at me while still relaxing on my shoulder, those gorgeous eyes luring me into a quick kiss on the lips. When they pulled back, they chewed at their bottom lip, their hands coming to sit in their lap while they fiddled with their thumbs. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you.”

My heart dropped.

The worry in their eyes, their sudden shortness of breath, the way they were the one now avoiding my gaze as they stared down at their lap.

“Is there someone else?” I asked. My heart felt as if it could burst from my chest. Of course, this all made sense. Of all of the other bachelors and bachelorettes in town, there were much better options than me. Alex and his strength, Penny and her kindness, Harvey with his practice, Sebastian and his homegrown plants in the basement.

“What?” The farmer laugh, short and sweet. “No-“

“My god, are you dying?!”

“Elliott, no.”

“I’ll give you a kidney if you need it, just say the word.”

“I think we would need a blood test first…”

“Then let’s go to Harvey’s! He can see if I’m a match right now!”

“Elliott, I don’t want your kidney!”

“It’s perfectly healthy, I promise!” I pressed my lips together in thought for a moment before continuing. “Wait, does wine affect the kidney or is that the liver? Farmer it might not be that healthy after all but—“

“Elliott, No. Look, I’m ace.”

“Ace?” I paused. Ace. What on earth was ace? “You… don’t have kidneys? Like at all?”

“No, just,” the farmer covered their mouth, muffling themselves.

I took their free hand, holding it gently while I looked deep into their eyes. “Please, don’t cry. We can figure this out together, and I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

They shook their head, suddenly dropping the hand covering their mouth only to reveal their laugh. The farmer rolled back, forcing me to drop their hand as now both of their hands covered their face while they continued to laugh, only their laughter growing even louder.

“If you’re dying this isn’t funny.” I pouted.

“No, no—“ they snorted, tears now coming from their eyes. “This is hilarious—“

“I hardly find kidney failure funny—“

They sat up, wiping the tears from their eyes before the spoke. “I’m not dying.”

I let out a breath. “Oh thank heavens.”

“Ace means… well, it has to do with sex.”

“Ahh.. yes, ace.” Right. Ace…. “Actually, no. I don’t know what that means. Does it have to do with golfing? Or poker?” I scratched at the back of my head, it wasn’t that I wasn’t into role play, but I would play a very poor golf instructor.

The farmer snorted by trying to hold back another laugh. “No, it means I don’t want to have sex. As in… With most standard relationships… There is sexual attraction on both sides. I’m not… sexually attracted to anyone. I don’t get aroused in that sense.”

“Oh.”

“And if that’s an issue for you—“

“Are you… boyfriend attracted to me?”

The farmer tilted their head, baffled. “What?”

“If you don’t want to have sex, and if you’re not ‘sexually’ attracted to me, am I boyfriend material?”

“You don’t mind that I don’t want to have sex with you?”

“Will you keep watching cheesy movies with me and sharing your wine?”

“Well, yeah—“

I pulled them into a hug, kissing the top of their head before resting my chin there. “Then you’re stuck with me, darling.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay not having sex?” Their question was muffled by my shirt but still loud enough to be heard.

“Of course! If I get to spend time with you… I’ll be the happiest man alive.”

“Thank you, Elliott.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the ancient condom in my wallet that kept me from ever making an awkward move on you. It might even be old enough for a sip of that wine by now.”

“Liar. Let me see this thing.”

I chuckled and pulled away from them, taking out my wallet and plucking out the condom to be handed over. I didn’t even feel the ridge in it anymore, honestly how old was it?

“I’ve never even heard of this brand,” the farmer said while they inspected it.

I nodded. “Pretty sure their factory went up in flames many years ago.”

“Hm. Sounds like they didn’t protect themselves very well.” The farmer smirked and passed the condom back. “Thanks for being so understanding… I really appreciate that you’ve been so… not pushy.”

Sliding the condom back into my wallet for no reason, I laughed. “Not pushy Elliott at your service, my dear.”

They stood, taking my hand and dragging me along with them. “It’s late, we should head to bed.”

“As you wish… and hey,” I stopped, still holding their hand and made them look back at me. “If I ever make you uncomfortable, just let me know, alright?”

The farmer nodded and delivered a kiss to my cheek, their free hand coming to rest on my chest. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“You will always mean more to me than sex, I hope you know that.”

The sadness that flashed across their eyes was something I never wished to see again. I could only imagine how hard this must be for them, and relationships that may have ended because of it.

“My dick on the other hand… will be hard as a rock in the morning and I apologize in advance.”

“Elliot, oh my god!”

“It’s human nature!”

They groaned and smacked my chest. “You ruined the moment!”

“How could I ever?” I laughed and scooped them into my arms, my need for sleep now stronger than ever as I carried them into the bedroom. “When I love you as much as I do!”I dropped the farmer onto the bed, both of us giggling as I crawled under the sheets beside them.

They dropped their face into their pillow and sighed. “Don’t confess to me after talking about your dick. Tell me you love me again in the morning.”

I leaned over and kissed their cheek, earning a playful glare in return. “Anything for you.” I would make sure to tell them as many times as they needed to hear it.

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backtothefanfiction · 10 months

Text

You Either Die The Hero, Or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become The Villain. | Prologue: The Angel In The Garden of Evil

Summary: All it took was one night, one conversation for Peter Parker to change the course of his life. Being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man didn't seem to be getting him anywhere, clearly it was time he took matters into his own hands and began playing his foes at their own game.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: fluff, little smut and a little bit of teasing for what's to come! 18+ ONLY!

A/N: So as teased the other day, I have become a little bit obsessed with Mob!AU Peter Parker stories, especially after reading the absolutely delicious story that was Sugar and Vice by the wonderful @liz-allyn (if you haven't read it, I highly recommend), anyway, it got me thinking about how I would construct my own Mob!Peter story and when I was day dreaming at work the other week, while listening to Liz's Sugar + Vice playlist (thank you by the way Liz, that playlist is a god send) it all started to come to me. So here is the Prologue, the tease, the moment that turned Peter Parker from the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man to a life of organised crime and the woman who was by his side through it all... until she wasn't.

PROLOGUE 8 YEARS AGO

Knock, knock, knock.

Her head turned to the window at the sharp tapping sound. It was late, really late, she shouldn’t have even still been up, late. But midterms were in a week and she didn’t feel anywhere near prepared, so unfortunately she was burning the midnight oil. She smiled to herself, that giddy feeling taking over whenever he decided to show up at her window. His gloved fingers pointed at the latch and she rushed across the room to let him in, sliding the window up before stepping back so he could swing his legs into the room.

“What are you still doing up, missy.” he chastised jokingly with one hand on his hip, the other held out in front of her wagging back and forth.

“Would you believe me if I said I was waiting for you?” she asked with a tilt to her head and a butter wouldn’t melt expression on her face.

“Not a chance.” he replied as he reached up and ripped his mask off his face. Her lips pursed together as she tried to fight her smile and he quickly moved past her to her desk before he got too wrapped up in how that face made him feel. He was Spider-Man after all and he’d already learnt the hard way that emotional attachments were a weakness. No this was purely a relationship of convenience he tried to remind himself.

“What are you working on anyway?” he said, sitting himself down at the small dorm desk and reading through the essay that was currently on the screen. “You know I can’t understand a word of this.” he joked, pointing at the screen.

“Now you know how I feel when you start talking physics to me.” she said, crossing the room and sitting herself down on his lap. “How’s patrolling the big bad city?” she asked as she began to type away again.

“You know, same old, same old.” he replied nuzzling into the back of her neck as his arms wrapped around her.

“If there’s anything about my Dad, I do not wanna-”

“Know.” he said at the same time as her. “I know, I know.”

“I mean it Peter, I’m not getting tangled up between you two. Not to mention, the less I know about my Dad’s work, the safer I’ll be, you know what happened to my Mom.”

“Yes, I know, I know.” he repeated as he tore himself away from her neck. “You still don’t wanna talk about it?” he asked after a pause.

“Nope.”

“Okay.” he conceded quietly. It was a hotly debated issue between them, both of them always trying to get the other to open up further about their emotions, yet still neither one of them was ready to trust that with the other.

“Uhh, come here.” he groaned as he grew bored, his feet rolling the chair backwards away from the desk, forcing her to give her attention to him. She sighed, her head falling back slightly as she surrendered to him. She quickly turned herself around so she was now facing him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he tilted his head back to look at her.

“You’re so beautiful.” he cooed quietly into the dim room.

“What even like this.” she joked pulling at her college hoodie and old sweats.

“Especially like this.” he said, lifting her up and making her squeal as he carried her the short way to the bed, before dropping her down on it.

She beamed up at him as he came to settle between her legs, his lips finding hers.

Her hands reached into the hair at the nape of his neck and neither of them could help their growing moans of arousal as their makeout session deepened.

“Uh, uh, one sec.” she said, breaking her lips away from him.

“What?” his teeth grinned against her mouth.

“Before we go any further, are there any injuries I need to know about and be careful of?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he said, playfully shaking his head.

“Oh really? Because I seem to remember the last time you climbed through my window you’d pulled a hamstring which you tried to hide, that ultimately ended our night very abruptly I might add.”

“No. no. I am the picture of health.” he continued to gest as his head lowered and his lips tickled her skin.

“Sure you are Parker.”

“Really? Okay.” he said as he started to get off of her.

“No, NO!” she protested with a large smile on her face and a rasped giggle on her breath. “Come on Pete, I was only joking.”

“Yeah?” he said as he stood before her. “Well I’m not.”

With one quick sweep he rolled her over, bringing her up onto all fours. She couldn’t help the small shriek and giggle that escaped her lips, but Peter knew right then, there would never be another sound in this world that would sound as sweet.

He was suddenly tender as he pulled down her sweats, tossing them across the room, before he leant over her, encouraging her to turn her head and give him a kiss, his tongue slipping tenderly past her lips. She moaned into his mouth as he continued to deepen the kiss and she quickly rose back onto her knees so she could hold his face in both of her hands.

“Take this off.” Peter muttered into her mouth before he reluctantly broke away, his own hands reaching for the zipper for his suit, quickly stripping himself of it and kicking it across the floor.

When his eyes focused back on her naked body he couldn’t help what fell from his mouth. “Fuck.” he sighed. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” he said, climbing across the bed to her.

She smiled, reaching her hands to his face to pull him in for a kiss again. He obliged for a moment, but quickly flipped her back onto all fours, his fingers reaching for her sex.

He ran his fingers down the length of her seam. “Damn, always so fucking wet and ready for me.”

“Stop teasing Spider boy.”

“As you wish.”

In one swift move he lined himself up, thrusting deeply into her pussy. She gasped and he stilled, allowing her a brief moment to adjust to him before he slowly started to rock inside her.

20 minutes later they were both panting, laying back on the bed naked. Peter spread out his arms and she quickly nuzzled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, as they found their space on the small single bed. She gazed lovingly up at him as she watched his face intensely, observing every brow furrow, every lip and eye twitch as he stared up at the ceiling, one hand behind his head, the other absentmindedly stroking at her bare back.

“Everything okay there, Spider boy?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s just-” he paused as if he was trying to think of how to word the thoughts running through his head.

She had noticed he’d stopped by a lot more lately, regularly needing to blow off some steam, looking desperately for constructive human interaction, not always just battling and fighting and jesting with people.

“You’re starting to wonder if it’s all worth it.” she filled in for him quietly.

Peter was always surprised when she came out with things like that. It was like she could see inside his head, but not just see into his head, articulate how he felt better than he ever could.

“Mmmm.” he hummed in agreement as he rolled her closer to his body, holding her tight as his head turned to place a kiss on her forehead.

“You know you can talk to me about it.” she said tentatively into his bare chest, her voice ghosting warmly across his skin.

He lifted his head to look down at her. “But you said you didn’t want me to talk about your Dad.”

“I know, but,” she replied, staring up at him with those eyes, those eyes that felt so old, so wise, so sweet and innocent, but oh so sad, “it’s not just about my Dad though is it.” she continued, rolling to prop herself up on one elbow. He remained quiet as he waited for her to continue. “The whole city’s fucked Pete and no amount of vigilante, neighbourhood spider power is gonna change that. Most of the guys who turn to work for my Dad only do it because they have no other choice. They don’t have qualifications to get good jobs. They can barely afford food for their families, let alone health care. Regardless of what my Dad does or any of the others, no matter what you do to try and take them down, someone else will always just come and take their place because the system itself is fucked.”

He sighed, his head falling back into the pillow as he looked back up at the ceiling, the weight of her statement, the fact that she was right, it was like a punch to his gut, yet also, somehow, brought him so much peace. Confirming all of the thoughts he’d had racing around his head and validating them, solidifying the ideas he had been having into his head.

“What are you thinking?”

“Just that… you’re right.” He paused and she blinked patiently at him in the dark as she waited for him to continue. Then he said the words she never thought she’d hear come out of his mouth. “I think if I’m gonna get anywhere, I’m gonna have to start playing them at their own game.”

__________________________________

*******

Chapters 1 + 2 will have a double drop on Friday with a weekly 1 chapter drop every Friday from then on.

If you want to be added to the tag list put it in writing. Also if you enjoy, don't just like, be sure to re-blog, just like tipping a waiter at a restaurant, every little bit helps.

@scmdsblog @angiexsv @thef1nalgirl @did-someone-change-my-name

(Initial tags are due to like on the original teaser post, if you want to be taken off, please let me know. If you liked the original post and are finding and your name isn't on the list, it's because it wouldn't let me tag you.)

#peter parker x reader #mob!peter parker #mob!Peter Parker x reader #mob!au #marvel #spiderman #Peter parker #Peter Parker imagine #mob Peter Parker imagine #the angel in the garden of evil #new series #prologue #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter imagine #andrew garfield spiderman #female reader insert

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littledollll · 1 year

Note

🕊️

Back with a request but not Agere :0 I know mad I have one of those to send next so don’t fret my love and how is your day going? Remember you’re so loved

Prompt~ so I feel like an angsty Larissa x reader fic based off the song “ceilings- Lizzy McApline” would be perfect. It goes on about how they wish to be with someone yet it’s not a real opportunity. They can’t be with them for some reason. I feel you could write that beautifully ~ shy anon🕊️

Lonely dreams

Larissa Weems x reader

A/n: im hanging in there babes, it’s lovely to see you here like always, I hope you enjoy. Idk how to do songlyric fics so I won’t cuz scary but I’ve actually had vivid daydreams about this song and this is how it goes. Requests are open

Warning: fluff, loss, grief.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You had the perfect life. Everything you’ve ever dreamt of came true for you. Your dream job, the love of your life, that easy going, calm, day to day and you’ve always craved, you finally had it.

A safe routine that repeated every day, you and Larissa worked and lived together like you always wished. You’d wake up every morning with littered kisses all over your face, making you giggle and pout. Making breakfast together was probably the best part of your day, you and Larissa together in a spacious kitchen with everything you could possibly need for the perfect meal, it felt like those love story movies, when they’d show those baking montages filled with laughs and attacking eachother with food.

Walking hand in hand through the hallways made you feel so confident, having Larissa Weems proudly showing you to the world. She walked you to your class with a kiss on the very tip of your nose, making you giggle and turn away to compose yourself before you had to start class.

“I will see you at lunch, my love.” Something made you want to pull her back, to stop her from walking away and give you just another kiss. But you didn’t, instead letting her go, “Have a good day, Issa” you said, before running off to start class.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You had this unsettling feeling running through your bones the whole morning, but it all went away when you met Larissa for lunch. Routine. Just like always, your pre-packed lunch that you made together the afternoon before, a conversation filled lunch or maybe just enjoying eachother in silence. A second to just breathe and be, you hugged and kissed so softly, so sweetly you never wanted to go back. It was a movie, it was your perfect life.

And the day went on, you’d come back to her office after class was over and wait the two hours she stayed extra working after you. You mostly bugged her to get out of the office and come home with you, occasionally you’d poke her for attention and get a quick kiss which made you feel giddy all over and sedated you for another few minutes before you inevitably poked her again.

You were resting against Larissa’s shoulder when she closed the computer and looked your way, a sweet smile on her face. “Okay darling, we can go now.”

Larissa’s warm and dazzling smile, was the most comforting thing on this planet, you couldn’t love anything more. It was contagious, whenever she smiled you couldn’t help but follow.

Tonight you’d order take out, every week twice a week, Routine. You’d always pick something new to try for the first time together, and you’d sit together on the couch with nothing but music playing in the background, the second you were done eating you were always the first to fall asleep.

Shuffling down to get confortable as you nuzzled into her chest with a pleased sigh, you could hear her calm heart beat, how her chest lightly moved up and down with every relaxed breath. Your perfect girl, the perfect movie life.

But you woke up, and it was over. The fresh memory of her funeral as if it had been just yesterday. A year, a whole year. And your mind refused to give in to the idea, that was it. She’s gone forever.

There was no such thing as her soft lips waking you up every morning, you didn’t laugh and dance every morning with breakfast, you walked alone through the halls of this now so monotone school, you ate lunch at your desk with nobody but yourself, and you went straight home after school. Losing yourself in daydreams of seeing her again, until you cried yourself to sleep, all to repeat again the next day, routine.

You were harshly slapped by reality each morning. You woke up. And that was it, the end of your perfect movie.

#larissa weems #principal weems #🕊️ anon #Larissa weems angst #principal larissa weems #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #wednesday larissa weems #larissa weems wednesday #larissa weems nevermore #larissa weems x reader #shy anon love page #shy anon

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gayerthanevertbh · 2 years

Text

say your prayers - seven.

a year after your scandal, you are thinking about her more and more until it kills you. one night, she was in the same bar as you, and you could barely breathe,

SERIES SUMMARY | your school have church service once every week. of course, as a good little schoolgirl you are, you attend to it. which means you always have to see your priestess, natasha, who you are secretly infatuated with. until there was an unexpected turn that made you feel something else other than good. but maybe, even better.

WARNINGS | 18+ MINORS DNI blasphemy of religion, sacrilegious acts, mother kink, mommy kink, rough fingering, very dark!natasha, slight angst, dirty talking, slut shaming, and pet names.

NOTES | this chapter is not my proudest work, but hopefully you’ll like it! let me know your thoughts on this please <3

nagivation | series masterlist | masterlist

“You have to join us later,” my dormmate said with an exasperated tone. “Have you never been to clubs before?”

“You do know that I was in an all-girls catholic school, MJ.”

“Well, do you want to be… a little reckless than that?”

If she knew what happened, if she knew my sexual affair with my priestess, then she would know how reckless and giving I was, even now.

“What if I get drugged?” I asked with a small voice, not turning my head away from my homework.

“You won’t,” she responded with a stare. “You can’t be moping around in this room. Look, I’ll even treat you out. You don’t have to spend on anything.”

“Is that what you really want?”

She nods; do I even have a choice?

Finally, after a long minute, I agreed with a nod, and turned my head to give her a small smile. I could sense how joyful she was, with her little turn and the tight smile across her lips whenever she gets excited. She says, “Okay, good. Get ready now, we’re going to leave in thirty minutes.”

As soon as she left, I removed my books from the table, grabbing the old journal that I kept with me for the longest time. I have my old fantasies and dreams about Natasha, all the experiences and the scenes that we’ve played; I could never forget them, I’ll hold onto them for my dear life. It’s been a year since the last time I saw her, the last time she held me before the chaos happened. And when I heard the news of her leaving the school, I was devastated. I never had her number, never had the information that I needed–except her house that is now sold out–and I continued to wait for the longest time.

But she never came back, she was a traitor.

I did my best to not think about the priestess by distracting myself with school, drowning in my studies until I could feel my whole body numb. But each time I spaced out; my mind would be swarming with her, especially her hands that are vile to my skin. Forget, forget, forget, I thought to myself. It’s been a year, she’s happier without you, she doesn’t need you. And I keep that mantra on repeat whenever I’d think about her–and it still doesn’t work. And when I had a one-night stand with a girl my age, I knew it was different from the way I experienced it with Natasha. She was fucking me, Natasha was making love to me. There was a difference, a huge one.

You’re my perfect saint, Natasha says as she bites down my lower lip. I will never forget you, I’ll never depart from you, little girl.

As much as that feels good when I think about it, I try my hardest to forget about it. Did I want her to search for me? Yes. Each day passes, and I always imagine a scenario where she has her pick-up truck by the building, with her gloomy hooded eyes that stared at me until she was bored. I felt like an unopened flower when it came to her, and I would rise when she finally did open me up. Clearly, there was something wrong with me. How can I love someone deeply when they don’t feel the same way anymore? Perhaps she has forgotten about me, moved on with her life, and thrown away the memories that we created. No matter how much it hurts, I had to do the same.

Coming out of my room, I see MJ’s boyfriend, Peter, sitting down at the edge of the couch that we bought from an old furniture house. God, he looked like an innocent human being, just like me once. I bet if he met Natasha or any man that would take him, he’d realize how much we were alike. He looks up at me and smiles kindly, and then I realize how much I’m also attracted to men.

“Hey, Y/N! I’ve come to pick MJ up, she said you’re also joining us for tonight.”

Is he rebellious as well?

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh, leaning against the doorway of my room. “I can’t do anything about it, she’s getting on my nerves.” I was merely joking, I hope he laughs.

He chuckles, perfect. “MJ’s like that, that’s why I love her in the first place. She’ll really get you out there and realize that there’s so much more other than studying.”

“Don’t you work for Stark?”

“Part-time only,” he responded. I never thought Parker himself could ever work for a Stark, I find the man too snarky and sexist. That’s just my opinion, I wouldn’t be surprised if he supports him.

We talked about his interests for a while until MJ comes out of the room with a straw cap on her head, high-waisted shorts that shows off her legs pretty well, and decent lip-gloss on her mouth. If I was given the chance to compliment her and say how attractive she was, I’d do it. But her boyfriend was gazing at her, so I never said anything. I quickly slipped on my sandals and walked with them to the bar until I had forgotten about Natasha completely.

“You should try this drink,” MJ slurs, giving me a shot of vodka with a loud chuckle erupting from her throat. “Come on! Drink it up, sissy. Let’s see how strong your intolerance is.”

I wanted to shake my head a no but I had no choice, maybe I do need some fun in my life. It wouldn’t hurt, right? So I give her a small glance and dunk the vodka in my throat, wincing slightly from the bitter taste that is expanding inside my throat hurtfully. I let out a tiny gasp and gave her a chuckle, it did taste good.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked curiously, you could see how drunk he was from three shots of tequila.

“M’pretty good.”

“My, I think you’re a lightweight,” MJ humors and pats my back hard, making my throat let out a rough cough. I wanted to tell her to go fuck herself. I was going to stand up until my legs were starting to feel wobbly, which made my friend giggle. “Easy there, pretty. Why don’t you just sit down? I’ll go get you more drinks.”

Natasha only gets to call me pretty, no one else.

I drank three more shots of vodka so that it could get into my system, to make me forget a woman that gave me nothing but despair. Fuck her, I think loudly in my head. It’s like I could feel her pick-up truck running me over until I was bleeding all over the road, numerous people watching with their horrific eyes. I wanted everyone to feel bad about me, to come to my funeral and say: this woman did nothing but her this child because it’s true, it’s true enough that she has hurt me. And while I’m drunk, I do realize how fucked up she was. Or maybe we were both fucked up.

Just keep drinking, forget about her, God damn it.

Tell me you love me, Natasha says desperately. You want me, don’t you? You love me, I know you love me.

Leave my head, Natasha.

An hour later, I was drunk as a skunk. I looked around me and I realized how my vision had become blurrier with each second, I needed to get back home, but MJ’s arm was around my shoulder and I could barely let myself stand up, I was so tired. One of her friends, a couple actually, was staring at my cleavage that has been popping out of my blueish tank top. I wanted to cover them, I felt uncomfortable, but I was too dozen off to do so. I asked myself to go to the bathroom and MJ did let me go, finally. While I tried walking to the restroom, I saw a familiar face at the counter. I turned slowly, and I could’ve sworn my eyes were playing tricks when suddenly Natasha was sitting with a glass of whiskey in her hand, looking tired as I was. I felt my world halting, as well as my heart. She still has that effect on me, after so long, she still gives me that warmth and panic that I always get whenever I see her.

Approach her, tell her that you missed her, hug her, kiss her.

My legs couldn’t move, I barely took off my eyes at her, and I wanted to hug her until my head was nuzzling against her neck. Don’t look at me, I begged. Please don’t take a glance, I won’t able to hold myself together.

After a minute of staring, I walked out of the scene and went to the restroom instead, a pan of regret maneuvering my veins. I should’ve turned back and greeted her with a hello, just a simple hello. Or maybe a question of: where have you been all this time? I thought you were in jail. But I could never bring myself to say such things like that, I could never disrespect her. Why? Why can’t I tell those things to you? Why did you not come back for me? You’re a traitor, a coward. After everything I’ve given you, all you have to do is leave. Coward, traitor.

When I walked back out, Natasha was no longer there. Instead, when I turned around, she was behind me with a hooded look on her face. She’s probably more wasted than I was despite how many glasses she could possibly take. She takes a deep breath and clenches her throat, whispering: “You’re here.”

“I am.”

Speak up.

It’s like she couldn’t believe that I was in front of her eyes after twelve months of not seeing each other, of not contacting one another, and there was this sense inside of her that she wanted to bring me inside of her car and make love to me. But instead, she held that thought and brought her hand to mine–holding them together, twinning our fingers until I felt like passing out.

“I thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you,” I repeated her words, almost in tears when she was this close to me again. If she only knew how badly enough I wanted her lips on mine, then I might as well die of thirst. I turned around to see MJ having a great time with her friends, and I wanted to leave as soon as possible. Natasha still had her gaze on me and decided to come outside, probably to talk. The thing is, did I want to talk? Yes, somehow. Would I want her to fuck it away? Sure. But before I could let out a word, her hand was wrapped on my wrist and pulled me out of the bar within a few seconds.

I didn’t care if MJ would find me, I didn’t care if they send a police search for me, right now–she’s holding me, and I would be in her spell until dawn.

We were alone in a car in the middle of the night, I didn’t know where she took me, but the road seemed pretty lonely just like how I used to feel hours before I saw Natasha again. There were trees around us, a lot more than I could think of, and I turned my head to see her hands gripping her steering wheel hard; you could see her knuckles turning white because of it.

“Why did you take me here?” I asked quietly, almost in a timid voice. She shakes her head slowly, asking herself the same question.

“I don’t know.”

“Are we not going to talk about–”

“I do,” she interrupts me, and I hear her sniffling. Was she crying? “I just… I do admit I have been a pussy for the past year.”

Damn right, you were. You left me without even saying a word, I thought you were dead.

“I thought you were dead,” I said, repeating that word inside of my head. “I thought that–you were in jail or something, I don’t know. You left me waiting.”

Perhaps there was something inside of me that wanted to slap her across the face, choke her with my tiny hands, and cry in agony about why she left me with the window open. The crease of her lips made me want to lick them, to remind her how good we used to be. But I was so angry, so angry that I barely could look at her in the eyes. Could you blame me? Of course, you can’t. You would do the same thing if I left you, Natasha.

“We would be in danger if I came back to you, Y/N.”

“But you’re smarter than me,” I say with a whine, furrowing my eyebrows. I always felt like she was, in fact, smarter than me, tougher than me, and more intelligent than me. I wanted to bring that word up to let her know how she made me feel so stupid for waiting, to pray to God if there was any sign of her. I was foolish, she was not. “You would’ve found a way to come back to me, to rescue me.”

“I wouldn’t ruin your hopes and dreams.”

“But you were my dream,” I tell her off, almost in a raised voice. She turns her head to me slowly and gives me this stare that screams: don’t-you-dare-talk-to-me-like-that. But she had no choice because either way–I was upset. “You said you would never leave me…”

“And I’m here, aren’t I honey?”

“Don’t call me that,” I muttered, staring back down at my hands that were on my lap; I feel my palms sweating with how aggravating I was feeling. “I’m not your honey or your little girl anymore, Natasha.”

“You have to understand that I couldn’t come to you that quick,” she reasoned slowly, dragging her words as if I don’t understand what she was trying to tell me when I clearly did. “If they see me with you, they will put me in jail. Do you want that to happen, Y/N? If I did go to jail, our hopes would be washed away as if nothing happened. I had to come back to you, just not at that time.”

Still, she was a coward for not showing up. Knowing how brilliant and naughty she can be, she would’ve made time to see me without anyone knowing. She knew very well where I lived, where I sleep, why hasn’t she come up and kissed my feet? Coward, traitor, pussy.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered in mock of shame.

She shakes her head and tucks a strand of my hair behind my hair, I forgot how good it feels to have her radiate all over me.

“It’s never your fault, I should’ve come back for you. I know I was capable enough to come back.”

And when she finally admits it, my stomach churns into knots as my head swirls with fuzziness; it’s all because of her, that priestess, Natasha Romanoff.

“We’re both sick, aren’t we?” I asked.

She chuckles and kisses my knuckles, bringing it to her nose as she smells me like how she would smell my insides. “Yeah, but I’m sicker than you are.”

“Would you show me how sick you are?”

Touch me right now, you fool. Fuck me hard, harder than I could ever imagine. I could hear you say: would you come for me, little girl? For Mommy? And I’d fall apart instantly, you know I would. And when you lean so close to me all I want to do is to smell your collar or your mouth that has the scent of your cigarettes. I’m utterly in love with you, obsessed with you, compelled to you, Natasha.

“Would you like to see how fucking cruel I can be?” yes, more than I can bear.

I lean close to her face and swipe the tip of my tongue on her upper lip, teasing her so that something inside of her would pop out. And when our hooded eyes connected, all I wanted for her to do was to pull me in and kiss me until I’m molded to her. She held my right cheek and watched intently as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pressed her lips together with mine. I love the simplicity of our kiss, the way her lips would twitch when I would try to deepen my mouth but she was still very much in control. It’s like with each kiss we make, we spoke in so many languages that I wouldn’t even know of. It felt foreign and surreal, but I’ve missed the feeling of it.

“Let me touch you,” her hands were now under my shirt, softly touching my stomach with a smirk on her lips–still kissing me hard. “Let me show you how cruel and unsettling I can be, little lamb.”

Was this an actual sinner in front of me? Rattling herself at me? How can someone be such an angel and when in the dark, they can be a different person? There was no denying how this turned me on–more than much–and all I could feel was the wetness between my legs and my stomach flexing because of her touch. She kisses me with my mouth opening, I felt her tongue dipping inside of my warm hole.

“Touch me,” I preached, bringing her hands further to my bra until I felt her squeezing my right breast–I had my hips arched because of it. “P-Please, I need you.”

“I know,” she says, as a matter of fact. Natasha kisses my chin, then to my open chest where her hand still kneads my breast like a soft dough. “You better stay quiet once I’m inside of you, pretty girl. But if you scream, that’s okay. Because no one would hear you either way.”

I watched her pull up my shirt, as well as my white bra, and moaned quietly when her mouth latches on my left nipple; swirling her tongue around the bed furiously, flicking it with so much force. My chest was heaving from her undying innuendo, and I could feel myself coming close because of it. Once I was topless in front of her, she took her time to remove her jacket and a black tee as well until I’ve finally seen her naked, after so long of not being with each other. I wanted to appreciate what she looked like, how she was still rather beautiful in my eyes when her mouth came back to my lips and I was baffled. She wraps her callused hand on my throat and pins me on the headrest with a growl, then slips her inside of my shorts–feeling my crotch.

“You want to see how evil I am?” she teases, licking her lips, and I could see red in her eyes; it turned me on, it made me wetter. I nodded. “I’m sicker than you, little girl. I’ve had these thoughts ever since you came to the school, ever since you’ve knelt down in front of me, I have pictures of you in my home and I would kiss it, I would touch myself with them. Don’t you know how fucking cruel that is? Hm? Does that turn you on?”

“Yes!” I mewled, grinding my clit against her fingers that were slithering through my folds, she looked at me with those eyes that I’d recognized, and I could’ve sworn I saw Satan within just a second.

“I want to get you pregnant,” she whispers to my ear while slipping a finger inside of me, chuckling to herself when I was clenching hard around her finger. “My god, you’re still this tight. No one has fucked you ever since I’ve been gone, baby?”

“No one,” I shake my head frantically, I needed more than just a finger. “J-Just you, I only need you, Mother.”

“I’ve missed you calling me that,” her lips were now on mine as she gives two hard thrusts that made me squeal out of pain and pleasure. She had long fingers. Her mouth was now in the corner of my mouth, but her eyes never left mine. She smirks, “You think you can be a good slut and cum around my fingers? Maybe once I slip my dick inside of you, I might fill you up with my cum.”

The word cum turns me on crazily, especially when I imagine her strap-on thrusting inside of me with her wild self, her head buried to my neck, as she cums hard inside of me with her hips twitching. I could hear her say: there, now you’re fully mine. I can’t wait until you’re carrying my babies, little girl and with that thought, I was clinging to her with all my strength. She could notice it by now despite how desperate and noisy I was from her thrusting, I didn’t even notice that she slipped another finger and I wish it was her dick instead.

She lets out a grunt, “You like it when I’m choking you, baby?”

I nodded, letting out a small: “Uh-huh, I do.”

“Yeah?” she taunts, curling her fingers to hit my spot hard. She kisses my lips desperately, as if not wanting to let go, and whispered, “How about when I hurt you, hm? You like it when I slap your face?”

I nodded again; and she gave me a wide smirk before I felt her palm smacking across my face, bursting more of my juices inside of my vagina that coated her fingers warmly. She loves the feeling of it, the way she hears squelching sounds coming from my pussy until she has this fantasy of making it bleed. It is impossible now, though. She has already ruined me. She continues to grip my neck hard and thrusts inside of me widely, with louder grunts filling the car.

She smacks my right cheek again before mumbling out with a hoarse voice, “If I could fucking drag your head to my house, I would. I’d fucking hurt you until I’m bored, maybe even touch you without your consent so that I could come. You do like it when I’m like this when I’m mean and cruel… right?”

“O-oh god,” I heaved, sobbing when the sting from her slap is still radiating on my cheek. As much as that hurt, I was so aroused by it. “Yes, I do love it–please fuck me harder, Mother. I’m a good little lamb for you, I’m so good to you!”

Natasha lets out insistent moans and curls her fingers harder to my walls while having her other hand clawing my throat. She whispered the dirtiest names to my ear, especially how much she wanted to hurt me, which never occurred in an alarming sense–it was never alarming anyway. Perhaps I was just in love with her, especially when we met again and I’m giving myself to her that easily. Am I that kind of a slut?

“So good,” she murmurs with a deep tone in her voice, her eyes fluttering close when I was producing more wetness around her fingers. “You fucking feel so warm around me, little girl…”

“Mommy–” I choked out a sob. “I love you so much, fuck your baby–please fuck your baby.”

“I’m going to enjoy you since you’re no longer with your parents,” she whispers with her teeth pearling; I could feel myself getting close. She was animalistic with me, her thrusts were too rapid, especially when she hit that spot. “You’re my good little girl, right? Then cum for me, cum for your Mother. Maybe say a little prayer while I hurt you, hm? Come on, do it for Mommy, sweetheart.”

I muttered out a whole sentence of prayer when all of a sudden I was at my climax. I arched my whole back, shutting my eyes tight, as I twitched while her fingers were still prodding inside of me–her eyes never leaving once more. With her free hand, she pushes the hair away from my face and kisses me hard, moaning when I couldn’t stop being so tight around her fingers. I mumbled, “Mommy, I love you.” I could see her smirking, kissing me for the last time, and responding with a moan.

“I love you too, my little lamb. More so than you know.”

A few hours later, she drove me back home in silence. We didn’t talk much, maybe because I was so speechless from the sudden sex incident that I couldn’t process it in my head. I wanted her to touch my hand, to let me know that she still wanted me, but nothing came out of her sinful mouth. Has she regretted this? Will she leave me again?

“Please don’t think I’m never going to see you again.” I’m glad you brought that up.

I nodded, turning to face her as I gave her an innocent smile, acting as if nothing happened an hour ago.

“Are we back?”

She shuts off her engine and sighs deeply, looking back at me with a curling lip on her face. Then, I felt her knuckles touching my soft cheek, and I died that night. Natasha leans feverishly close, so close that she might lick my lips, and whispered: “Of course, we are. Maybe not in secret anymore.”

This gave me excitement for some reason, it’s like there was nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to her.

“Really?” I asked, flabbergasted.

Natasha only smiles and pecks my lips, then my cheeks, and lastly to my forehead. “We just have to be careful when we are in public, I look enough to be your mother.”

“But you are my Mother.”

“Yes,” she agrees, chuckling to herself as she kisses me hard on the lips; I let her, of course. “You’re my child, my little girl. Now go off, okay? I’ll come to see you again, I promise.”

I hope you will, you fool. Because if you don’t, I might have to kill myself for you to find out that I’m dead, that would make you run to my apartment just to see my lifeless body. I felt intrusive and bold too, as if this relationship was such a healthy one–when clearly, it’s wrong in so many ways. Did I care? Hardly, as long as I’m with her, nothing bad happens.

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