#i’m going to sneak the au tag in here too
Text
Roster Hopper
Pairings: Fem!Reader x College Au Karasuno players (separately, except for Tsuki & Yamaguchi)
Summary: You make a bet with your best friend and co manager that you can sleep through the entire Karasuno roster, without the team finding out.
Word Count: 8.4k
Warning: reader having sex with entire team lmfao, maybe reader is slightly manipulative at times? I don’t think so but tagging just incase, oral (fem receiving) in multiple different positions, light spanking, p in v sex in different positions, men whimpering lol, oral (male receiving), fingering, thumb in ass, squirting, spit, sorta voyeurism, threesome (Tsuki and Yams) virginity loss (Yams), semi public sex, brief drinking mention MDNI
A/n: Changed my original idea to just y/n trying to go through the roster bc you plus a friend is a lot and trying to write around the team not finding out would be hard SO here we are. Y/f/n = your friends name. I didn’t want to have to think of a random name. If you don’t have someone you can just slot in Kiyoko or something. I also bolded each players name so if you want to skip to a specific dude, hopefully it is easier to find. Enjoy!
“How long have they been at it?” you asked your friend as you were filling up water bottles for the third time this practice. If you weren’t so used to the sound of volleyballs being smacked around, it would probably have driven you crazy by now. It was your second year as Karasuno University’s volleyball team manager and you loved it. Water bottle fill up runs and all.
“Too long,” your friend replied, “I don’t get where they get the energy from. I’m tired just watching them.”
“Same.” You screwed the last bottle shut. “But the first years are really good. I think we have a shot this year.”
“Oh without a doubt,” y/f/n’s nodded. “And if they keep practicing like this they’ll only get better. They’re pretty cute too, not that is going to help them win games.”
You laughed. “I was waiting for your say something.” Your voice dropped a little, so none of the boys could overhear you. Not that they were really paying attention to either of you at the moment. Volleyball is life and all. “We have a really cute team, don’t you think?”
Your friend nodded and whispered back. “For sure. Who do you think is the cutest?” This is why you were glad you convinced your best friend to manage with you. Nothing passed time like gossiping about boys with a friend.
“Hmm,” you considered, “Kageyama is cute. But you know how I like dark haired guys. Nish too. Never thought I would think a short guy was so hot. Don’t tell him I said that.” You didn’t want to offend him, but you had a sneaking suspicion all he would care about was that you called him hot. Him and Tanaka were a bit girl-crazy. They were the only players that shameless flirted with you and your friend. You liked that about them; it was fun.
“No, for real! I think Asahi has to be the cutest though,” you friend replied.
You nodded. They were all pretty good looking guys, so you couldn’t argue. “But the real question is, who do you think is the best in bed?”
Your friend took a second to think about it before answering. “Daichi.”
“Really?”
Your friend shrugged. “I mean he’s one of the oldest, so he’s probably got experience. Plus he’s the captain.”
You snorted. “What does being captain of a volleyball have to do with being good in bed?”
Your friend huffed in faux annoyance. “Well it makes sense in my head. Who do you think then?”
“Honestly maybe Nishinoya.”
“I think you just have a crush on him.”
“Shut up. But also Sugawara. It’s the quiet ones you gotta look out for, you know?”
Your friend nodded. “Totally. Maybe we gotta hunt down their past hook ups and do a survey.” You both laughed, drawing the attention of Tanaka.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing!” You both answered in unison, before turning your back to the court to laugh more. As ridiculous as the conversation was, it sparked your curiosity. You couldn’t deny that you'd thought about hooking up with some of the players. You watched them run around and get sweaty for hours everyday, what else were you supposed to think about? You’d never actually done it, though, not wanting to ruin any friendships with the guys. They could be a rowdy bunch, but you did love them dearly.
That, however, didn’t stop you from hatching a crazy idea. “What if we didn’t need other people to find out.”
Your friend’s eye brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I will do all the research,” you replied. She gave you a look that told you she still didn’t understand what you meant. “I sleep with all of them and then we’ll know who the best.”
Y/f/n looked at you like you were crazy. Which, to be fair, maybe you were. “You can’t be serious. All of them?”
“Well not at the same time,” you replied, like a smart ass. Your friend rolled her eyes.
“Obviously. But that’s still crazy! There’s so many of them.”
“There’s not that many. Just nine of them. Give me the whole school year and I could do it,” you responded.
“No way you can,” she replied.
“Wanna bet?” You challenged.
“Absolutely,” your friend replied, “500 bucks says you can’t sleep through the team by the end of the school year.” Damn 500? But a big challenges calls for big stakes.
“You're on.” You shook hands. “Now let’s figure out the rules.”
After a little discussion you both agreed that besides the obvious of having to get through the 9 players by the last day of school, they couldn’t find out about what was going on. If you were to tell them about the challenge, some of the players might do it just to help you. You had to get them in bed organically. Additionally, you couldn’t request certain sex acts. You both wanted to know how they tried to please women without any bias. If you started telling them what to do, it would mess with the data. Because this is super scientific, obviously.
Y/f/n allowed you one get out of jail free card if someone found out, but it had to be contained to the one person. If the whole team finds out, game over. You didn't need to provide any proof, but you did have to share your ranking with y/f/n at the end, which you were more than happy to. Any other issues that came up, you both agreed to figure out as needed. Simple enough.
“I’m not even going to bother asking you who you think will be the easiest,” your friend said. Both your eyes floated over to Nishinoya and Tanaka, making you both snicker. “But who do you think will be the hardest?”
“Daichi for sure,” you replied, “Doesn’t seem like he’s a hook up guy, but we’ll see. And Tsuki, just cause he can be a jerk.”
Your friend snickered. “He seems like the type who wants spank girls and make them call him daddy.”
You grinned. “I guess we will find out.”
A week later you were at party hosted at the team house. It was the perfect venue to make your first move. Only the upperclassmen could live in the house, but during parties the whole team plus many others were invited. Tonight’s party was particularly crowded, being that it was still early in the year and most people didn’t have much work to do yet. The crowd would make it easier for you to sneak away unnoticed, even with other teammates around.
You set your sights on Nishinoya first. You figured he’d be easy to get in bed, plus maybe you did have a little crush on him. You were super keen on finding out how he was in bed. Maybe it was because of the drink you had, but you were feeling bold. You decided to take a super straight forward, simple approach with Noya.
“Noya, do you want to have sex with me?” you asked when you managed to pull him to a private corner of the party. You almost laughed at how his eyes bugged out of his head.
“Are you serious? Tanaka didn’t, but you up to this as a joke, did he?” he asked.
“I promise he didn't,” you replied. “Just think you’re cute. Do you wanna?”
Nishinoya thought this was better than his birthday and winning nationals combined. “Fuck yes I do. When?”
You giggled at his enthusiasm. It was so endearing. “Right now?”
God he really was a lucky guy, he thought. “Fuck.” He chugged the rest of his beer for good measure. “Yeah let’s fucking do it.” You looked around to make sure no one was watching, before slipping up the stairs to his room. Luckily, his bedroom was on the second floor, which no one really came to. The parties stay in the basement or on the main floor, so you felt safe now that you made it up unnoticed.
The second he closed the door to his room, you pounced on him. You couldn’t help yourself. To be fair, it was very much a mutual pounce. Nishinoya kissed you eagerly, bordering on desperate, but in the best way. You pulled away, both of you breathing heavy.
“Before we do this, do you mind if this stay between us?” You asked, batting your eyes innocently at him. He was putty in your hands at this point; you knew he would agree to anything to get in your pants. “I don’t want it to be weird if the other guys found out.”
“Of course, I won’t tell anybody,” he nodded. You were back to kissing him, very desperately now. You were still standing by his door, pulling clothing off each other. Instead of wasting two steps to get to the bed, Noya just spun your around and bent you over the dresser right there. He was not a patient man and you were not complaining.
He slid your underwear odd, cursing. “Fuck you don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this,” he cursed. You giggled, glad your crush had been reciprocated. Before you could get any words out, Noya was on his knees behind you, burying his face in your pussy. You gasped in surprised as he licked up your arousal, his tongue sliding through your puffy lips.
“Fuck Noya!” you cried as he sucked on your clit. His hands massaged your thighs and ass, keeping you spread for him. He hummed and groaned into your cunt as he ate you out, clearly enjoying it very much. Much like when he kissed you, it was eager and desperate and so fucking good. It didn’t take long before you were cumming all over his tongue.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he gushed, wiping your release off his face. He dug a condom out of the top dresser drawn, grinning eagerly at you.
“And you’re so fucking good at that,” you replied.
“I’m even better at this,” he replied, sinking his cock into you. Your body arched, surprised by the stretch. Noya’s thrusts were rough and frantic, clearly chasing after his high. He gripped your ass tightly, giving it a few smacks, but nothing too hard. You pressed your body back against him, loving that he wasn’t afraid to go for it. Your fingers scratched along the wood of his dresser as you tried desperately to hold on.
It was no use, though. Within minutes you were moaning his name and cumming on his cock. Noya, who was overjoyed he didn’t bust the second his slid in, let himself go the second he felt your velvety walls clench around him.
“Fuck, y/n, so fucking good.”
You gave Nishinoya a long thank you kiss before getting dressed. You agreed to go down first and then he’d come down a few minutes later so it wouldn’t be obvious you were together. You left his room grinning. And just like that, one was crossed off the list.
A week later you decided to try your luck again. Tanaka mentioned he was going to check out a frat party and you asked for a ride there, which he happily agreed to. As far as you knew no one else on the team was going to this party, so it would be the perfect opportunity to cross him off the list.
The party sucked; it was way too crowded and the music choices were awful. Not to mention, the house was a mess. It made the volleyball house look spotless in comparison. It worked in your favor, though, as Tanaka was more than happy to take you up on your suggestion to chill in his car.
“Dude I thought frat parties were supposed to be the best,” he said, closing the car door behind him.
“Did you see the bathroom? That shit had to be a biohazard,” you replied.
Tanaka laughed and nodded. “So gross. Sorry I dragged you here.”
“No worries, I wanted to,” you replied. You gave him a faux shy look. “I just wanted to hangout with you, honestly.”
Tanaka perked up. “Really?”
“Really.” And since being so honest worked the first time, you figure why not just go for it again. “Would it be weird if I said I was trying to get in your pants.”
Tanaka blinked at you, certain he didn’t hear you right. “You wanna get in my pants?”
You laughed and nodded. “Yeah, is that a bad thing?”
He shook his head. “No that’s a good thing! A great thing.”
“So...” your eyes flicked down to his lap. “Can I?”
“Right now?”
“Why not?” you replied. “We are in a dark spot. Your windows are tinted. No one will see.” You leaned in a little further, letting him peek down your shirt. “It will be fun, don’t you think?”
Tanaka did not need any convincing. Fucking his hot manager in his car? He may have dreamed about this exact scenario. Literally. Tanaka pushed back his seat as far as it would go and helped you climb on top. The way he kissed you was so similar to Noya you had to bite back a laugh.
You wasted no time pulling your top off, which Tanaka was very happy about. His face was in your tits before you could even get your shirt fully off. He sucked at the sensitive skin, flicking your nipples with his tongue. His hands gripped your tits roughly, but not unpleasantly. You rocked your hips against his, letting out a hum of pleasure. Tanaka was already hard underneath you.
“I could die happy right now,” he mumbled against your tits, making you laugh.
“At least fuck me first,” you replied, half joking. But also half serious because you were on a mission.
Tanaka took that as instruction. “Shit, I got you.” He pulled his cock out of his pants then cursed. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Don’t worry, I brought one.” You fished it out of your purse and handed it over.
“Damn you really were trying to get in my pants huh?”
You smiled. “Maybe.”
Tanaka rolled the condom on, then pushed your skirt up and underwear to the side. He let his tip run through the slick before slowly pressing into you. He hissed a little, feeling your pussy suck him in. Once he was all the way in, you pressed your hands against his chested and rolled your hips.
“Fuck, just like that,” Tanaka groaned, watching where his cock disappeared inside you. His hands ran along your hips and ass, helping you rock yourself on him. He leaned in, continuing to suck on your tits. The car windows fogged, the small space filled with the sound of your breathless moans and his cock thrusting into your wet pussy.
Tanaka wasn’t one to make the woman do all the work, so he planted his feet on the car floor bucked his hips up to meet yours. The deep spot he hit made your head fall back. “Tana-nngh-” your words were cut off by a cry of pleasure. You creamed around him, setting him over the edge. He spilled into the condom while groaning into your chest.
“Tanaka, can you do something for me?” you asked once you caught your breath. He was still buried inside you.
“I’d do anything you ask me right now, not gonna lie,” He replied.
You laughed, even though he wasn’t joking. “Don’t tell anyone we hooked up. I just don’t want the other guys judging me, you know?”
“It’s in the vault,” Tanaka replied seriously. “And if you ever want to do that again, please call me.”
Two down, seven to go.
Your next opportunity didn’t come until about a month later. You were alone with Asahi in the library studying for midterms coming up. “I need a break,” Asahi sighed, pushing his books away from him.
There was your opening. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” You replied. “My roommate is away right now. Wanna go back to my dorm and watch a movie?” You gave him a look that hinted that maybe it wasn’t just a movie on your mind.
Asahi blushed. “I-I don’t want to intrude.”
You waved him off. “You won’t be. C’mon it will be fun.” With that, you both packed up your things and headed to your dorm. You told Asahi he could sit on your bed while you set up the movie. He sat on the edge of your bed, looking a little nervous. It made you laugh that such a large, handsome man was easily flustered. “Relax, Asahi, you can lay down if you want.”
You hopped on the bed, laying down in front of him. You were in the spooning position, but not touching. You rectified that by slowing drifting closer to him. When your ass met his front, you wiggled as innocently as you possible could. You could feel Asahi shift nervously, though he unmistakably pressed closer to you. It wasn’t long before you could feel something hard poking at your ass.
“I can feel that, Asahi,” you teased.
“I’m so sorry y/n, I didn’t mean-”
“Shhh,” you hushed him, “I don’t mind.” You reached back, taking his hand in yours and leading it down into your leggings. “Maybe this will make you feel better.” You guided his hand to your pussy, letting him feel your wetness. He let out a low groan. You took your hand away, letting him touch you how he pleased.
“Do... do you want me to...” Asahi trailed off as he continued to play with your pussy.
“I think you know what I want, Asahi,” you purred his name. He cursed into your hair, breathing in the sweet scent. He brushed it aside, kissing your neck a little. You titled your head, allowing him better access. Then you got needy, so you craned your head back, allowing you two to kiss. He a gentle kisser, sweet and passionate. His hand slid up your shirt, giving your breasts a few soft squeezes. “Do you have a condom?”
Asahi’s cheeks tinted but he nodded. “In my wallet, yeah.” He fished his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling the little foil out. You wiggled your ass agains him, urging him on. He slipped his cock out of his pants, rolling the condom on. His tip nudged at your aching hole. “You sure?”
“Please.” Asahi slid into you slowly, letting you adjust. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you to him while he thrusted into you. You arched your back, getting him deeper.
“Y-you feel good,” he mumbled against your neck. You quickly learned that Asahi was not shy about moaning. Hell, he was practically whining as your swirled your hips. He was so close to your ear, the sound giving you goose bumps. It was fucking hot. When he slid his hand down and started rubbing your clit it was your tone to moan.
“Asahi don’t stop,” you said breathlessly.
“Fuck I think I’m gonna-” His voice broke off in a low groan as you felt his cock twitch inside you. He didn’t stop fucking you even as he came, which pushed you over the edge. A warm rush filled your body as you finished. You finally turned around, giving him a soft peck. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, embarrassed.
“Don’t be silly, I really enjoyed it,” you assure him. “But if it’s okay with you, let’s not tell anyone we did this. You know how the guys are. If they found out...”
Asahi nodded in agreement. He definitely didn’t need his teammates knowing he came quick. “I promise I won’t tell.”
A few days later, you were sitting in practice, reflecting on how your strategy to get through the 6 guys left. It was half way through the first semester and you only had 3 done. You weren’t too concerned yet, but you knew you couldn’t keep letting so much time pass between each guy. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t notice Tsukki come up beside you.
“I know what you’re up to.”
You startled, giving him a confused look. “Huh?”
“You’ve been hooking up with the guys on the team.” It wasn’t a question.
You tried to keep your voice even, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tsukki rolled his eyes. “Don’t play stupid. I saw you leave the library with Asahi last week. Then earlier in the semester you were sneaking around parties with Noya and Tanaka.”
You raised a brow. “You stalking me or something?”
“We are in the same friend group at a small university, it’s not that hard to put together. If you have half a brain at least,” Tsukki replied. “I just don’t understand why.”
You let out an annoyed sigh. Your back was to the wall, you had to tell him. “It’s for a bet. To see if I can hook up with the entire team by the end of the year.” It felt stupid saying it out loud, especially with Tsukki’s judgmental eyes watching you.
“So why are you hiding it? I’m sure these idiots would be more than happy to sleep with you for whatever reason,” Tsukki replied.
“I can’t it’s part of the rules,” you explained, “So if you tell anybody I’m totally fucked.”
“I’d say you’re already quite fucked,” Tsukki replied with a shit eating grin.
“Haha,” you replied dryly, rolling your eyes. “But seriously, don’t blow this for me.” He went to open his mouth but you cut him off. “And no blow job jokes.” His mouth shut, but you could see the gears turning.
“So you kinda owe me a favor, don’t you?”
“If you’re going to ask me to sleep with you, don’t bother. It’s already a part of the plan unfortunately,” you replied.
“Ouch,” he yawned. “But that’s not what am I asking. At least not exactly. I want a three way with Yamaguchi.”
You were shocked but also not at the request. You knew they were best friends, but they seemed like they would be completely different in bed. “Have you told Yams about me hooking up with the other guys?”
“No, I figured I’d keep my mouth shut until I had more information,” Tsukki replied. “But I’ve been trying to help Yams lose his virginity. This seems like the perfect opportunity.”
“Wow what a selfless friend you are,” you replied sardonically
Tsukki shrugged. “I can admit I want to try a three way for selfish reasons, too. What guy doesn’t.”
“And you think Yams wants to lose his virginity with you there?”
“Yeah, he’ll be less nervous. I promise I won’t tell him or anyone else about your stupid bet if you do this.” You agreed. Although Tsukki was annoying, you couldn’t deny that a 2 for 1 would help a lot. You just had to text your friend to make sure it was within the rules.
Y/f/n: hmm I think as long as neither of them no what it’s for, one three way can be allowed
Y/n: Tsukki knows. that asshole figured it out. I have to use my get out of jail card on him -_-
y/n: but Yams doesn’t know, Tsukki will make up some other story to tell him
y/f/n: As long as Tsukki doesn’t tell Yams and no one else finds out then I think it’s fine. Good luck with that lmao
A week later you were in Tsukki and Yams’ shared dorm room. They’d pushed their beds together for the occasion, which was honestly quite funny. Tsukki looked almost bored and Yamaguchi looked nervous. Typical.
One thing led to another and you were on their combined beds kissing Yamaguchi while Tsukki pulled your bottoms off. For his lack of experience, Yams was a good kisser. Definitely a little nervous, but sweet. You went at his pace, twisting your fingers through his hair making his breath catch.
“Watch this, Yamaguchi. You have to get her nice and wet before putting it in,” Tsukki told his friend. His fingers were rough and warm as he dragged them through your lips. He rubbed circles over your clit, making sure his friend knew that spot was very important. His long fingers easily slid inside you, pressing spots that were hard for you to reach. You let out a little gasp, which made him smirk. “Take over for me Yams, you gotta practice.”
They swapped places, Tsukki slipping his cock out when he reached you. “Suck me off.”
You narrowed your eyes. “A please would be nice.”
Tsukki gave you a fake smile. “Please suck me off.” You didn't bother arguing, taking his cock in your mouth instead. He was annoyingly big. Maybe the biggest you had yet. Asahi may have been thicker, but Tsukki was definitely longer. You used your hand on his base while your lips and tongue focused on his tip. Meanwhile, Yams was getting the hang of fingering you. He copied Tsukki exactly, his whole face and chest flushed at the sight of your wet pussy sucking in his fingers. Your moan vibrated through Tsuki’s dick as he hit a sweet spot.
“Fuck,” the blond cursed, pulling out of you. He didn’t want to cum just yet. “Move Yams, let me show you how to fuck her.”
Yamaguchi’s face flushed a deeper shade of red. “Okay.” Tsukki spread your legs open after slipping a condom on. He pressed inside you slowly and you so badly did not what to gratify him with a moan, but you couldn’t help but let one slip.
“Sh-should I put it in her mouth?” Yams asked.
Tsukki shook his head. “You won’t last. You need to be hard so you can fuck her.” Yams nodded, watching his friend roll his hips into you. “I’ll make her cum so she’ll be nice and sensitive when it’s your turn.” Tsukki rocked his hips against yours, holding your thighs wide open for him. You hated to admit it, but it did feel really good. His cock, like his fingers, hit spots deep inside you. His thrusts were surprisingly heavy for his thinner frame. A damn near devious smily spread across his face as he felt your pussy clenching around him. He rubbed your clit with quick circles, finishing you off.
“Fuck!” you cried, your head falling back on the pillow. Pleasure pulsed through you as Tsukki fucked you through your high. He pulled himself out of you with a hiss, stopping himself from finishing. He wanted to do that in your mouth.
“Your turn Yams.” Tsukki yanked his friend down between your legs. Yams cock ached as he look at your fucked out expression. He couldn’t believe he was going to lose his virginity to the hot older manager. He said a silent prayer that he didn’t cum the second he put it in.
You sensed his nerves and comforted him. “Don’t worry, Yams, you’ll do good. Let me.” You took the condom out of his shaking hands and rolled it onto him. He whimpered a little, sensitive to even your touch. “Whenever you’re ready, yeah?”
He nodded, holding your thighs like Tsukki did and slowly pressed inside you. He slid in easily, thanks to Tsukki. He let out a whine feeling your warm, wet walls squeeze him. He tried not to focus to hard on that as he rolled his hips into you. You were extra sensitive, just as Tsukki said, making each movement feel extra good.
“So good, Yamaguchi.” You had no problem encouraging the younger guy. You always thought he was sweet. “Doing so good.” Yams blushed and kept it going.
“Now, where were we?” Tsukki asked, an obnoxious ring in his voice. You rolled your eyes at him but took his cock back in your mouth without protested. You took him deeper, urged on by how his composure cracked. Your tongue ran along the vein on the underside, making him curse. Yams continued to rut desperately into you, making you moan onto Tsukki. You emphasized the sound both for Yams’ confidences and to break down Tsukki.
Tsukki used his free hands to play with your tits. He gave your nipples a hard squeeze, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made you cum again. Yams cried out your name, summing the second your walls pulsed around him. Tsukki’s hips twitched as your lips tightened, spilling into your mouth. Everyone was a panting mess by the end.
“Thanks, y/n,” Yams said as you finished getting dressed. “And I won’t tell anybody, I swear.” You exchanged a look with Tsukki, who nodded a silent agreement that he would continue to keep his mouth shut. You couldn’t help but smile as you left; you were over halfway done.
You went the rest of that semester without crossing anyone else off the list. You were okay with that, though, since you were still on track. Your next opportunity came during the last week of the winter break. Practice had started again, but not everyone was back to campus yet meaning they were smaller. And meaning Hinata was more desperate for someone to stay and throw him extra tosses.
“Sure Hinata, I’ll help you out,” you agreed. Everyone else had cleared out of the gym, glad to not be the one Hinata targeted. You tossed him for awhile, admiring the strength of the small first year. He was the biggest wildcard to you. You weren't sure if he was gonna be really good or really bad.
“Ugh, I need to get stronger,” Hinata grumbled after his last spike. It looked plenty strong to you, but it gave you an idea.
“I've heard increasing testosterone can make you stronger,” you replied, tossing up another ball for him.
“Really? How can I do that?”
“Having is sex is one way.” Hinata dropped out of the air, the ball you tossed bonking him in the head. You laughed at the surprised look on his face.
“Sex?”
“Have you not heard of it?” you teased.
Hinata grumbled, “I have! I just didn’t know it could help like that.”
You shrugged. “That’s just what I’ve heard at least.” You took a step closer to Hinata, looking him in the eye. “We should give it a try.”
Hinata’s eyes widened. “Wait are you serious? Like right now?”
“Yeah! Let’s do it and see if your spike gets better.” You knew he couldn’t resist the offer, which he did not. Hinata practically pounced on you. Have sex with he pretty manager AND improve his spike? Sounds good to him. You were all over each other as you got down to the floor. Clothes flying off as you went. You weren’t sure why you felt so particularly excited, maybe it was the risk of getting caught. All you knew is that you suddenly wanted Hinata badly.
Hinata was just as eager with you, his hands all over you. His kisses were a little sloppy with need, but you loved it. Your tongues mixed slid your hands over his toned torso. Hinata bunched up his t shirt and put it under his head like pillow. He hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you up his body. “Sit on my face?”
How could you say no to that. The second your pussy made contact with his mouth he was all over it. His tongue pressing into your soaked entrance, then his lips sucking your aching clit. You forgot yourself, rocking your hips against his face, though Hinata didn’t mind one bit. He loved how your plush thighs squeezed his face as you chased your high.
It didn’t take long for it strike you, swift and strong as lightning. You bit down on your lip as your moaned his name, trying to not alert anyone who may be walking outside what was going on in the gym. Hinata lapped up every bit of release before you slid off him. In an instant he had you flipped over, with him now on top.
“You taste good,” he grinned, his lips shining with your release. You pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on him. “I think I have a condom in my gym bag, give me a sec.” And he really meant ‘a sec.’ Hinata was back at one top of you in a flash, rolling a condom onto his hard length. You didn’t get how he was so damn fast.
You both let out content sighs as Hinata pressed into you. Hinata fucked you hard and fast. He just couldn’t hold himself back when he felt your velvety walls wrapped around him. You were not surprised by his energy in the slightest, but you were surprised by his strength.
“Nngh- Hinata! Right there,” you moaned. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping him close to you. With just a few more heavy thrusts, your orgasm was milking his cock. Hinata’s head fell back while he filled the condom with his release. A mixture of a moan and a whine slipped from his parted lips.
When you were both redressed, Hinata was already asking for a toss to see if worked. You couldn't help but laugh. Only Hinata would be thinking about volleyball after sex. You indulged him, tossing the ball, which he rocketed over the net.
“Holy shit! You were right y/n, that was so much better!’” Hinata beamed.
“I knew you could do it!” you replied, “But can I ask you not to tell anyone we just did that. If the other players found out, they may pester me to help them like that too.” Hinata agreed, happy to have his only little secret weapon for better spikes.
6 down, 3 left.
A week or so later, Hinata and Kageyama were bickering in practice, as they do. However, Kageyama seemed more annoyed than usual, so you decided to check in with him after practice to make sure everything was okay.
“Oh, yeah Hinata’s just been... particularly annoying,” he replied, seeming oddly nervous. Or maybe uncomfortable.
“Particularly? What do you mean?”
Kageyama shifted. “Well, he's been bragging about hooking up with this girl...” You stiffened, wondering if Hinata spilled the beans.
“What about it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.
“I thought he was bull shitting at first because he wouldn’t tell me who it was. But then he started going into a gross amount of detail and I knew he wasn’t lying.” You let out a sigh of relief, which Kageyama misread. “I’m sorry that was probably weird to share.”
You shook your head. “Not at all. Why does it bother you so much, though?”
Kageyama blushed a little. “Well, it’s kinda of embarrassing, but Hinata and I compete about everything. He’s hooked up with 4 girls this year and I’ve only 3. I guess it’s kinda fucked up to compete over that.” No more fucked up then your own competition, you thought.
“Not at all,” you assured him, “Friends do shit like that all the time. I’m sure those girls would have hooked up with you both either way.” In your case with Hinata, you knew it was true. They were nice, good looking guys, who wouldn't want to? “Why don’t you tell Hinata you hooked up with someone else.”
“Lying would be so lame. If he realized, I’d never live it down,” Kageyama replied.
“Who said you had to lie?”
Kageyama’s brows furrowed then raised when he realized what you mean. “Are you saying...”
“I’m saying, we hook up and then you can tell Hinata you’re back to being tied without lying,” you finished for him. “We don’t have to tell anyone either. Hinata not telling you is the perfect excuse to not tell him. He won’t have to know it was a favor.”
“Seriously? Are you sure y/n? I didn’t tell you to make you feel like you had to,” Kageyama replied. He was trying to be polite but you could tell the wheels were already spinning in his head.
“I’m sure. I’d do it even if it wasn’t for a favor.” Kageyama blushed.
“Thank you so much.” No, thank you, you thought.
And so a few days later you found yourself in Kageyama’s dorm, sitting on his lap with your back pressed to his front. An interesting request, but you didn’t deny it. And now you were very glad you didn’t
“Fuck Kageya- oh,” your voice was a strangled moan as he played with your pussy. His calloused fingers moved expertly over your most sensitive spots. You felt almost like his opponent. You could tell he was observing you closely, noting every spot that made you tick. The whines that escaped your lips meant he found the perfect pressure to rub your aching clit. Your hips bucking showed him the sweet spot inside you that drove you crazy.
“You like that?” it was more of a statement than a question, really. He knew you loved it. All you could do was nod. Kageyama had both of his arms wrapped around you from behind. His middle two fingers on one hand plunged into your pussy, pressing your g spot. The other hand rolling your clit, driving you crazy.
If it didn’t feel so good, you’d almost be embarrassed at how fast you came. Kageyama felt it immediately, letting you fuck yourself on his fingers. You ground against him, his erection pressing into your ass. It made you both desperate for more.
“Need you,” you gasped, reaching back to give him a squeeze through his pants. Kageyama groaned deliciously before pulling his sweats down just enough to free himself. He was riding high from just making you cum and couldn’t wait to feel your walls squeezing him. After he rolled the condom on, he angled your hips back so he could slide in.
“Fuck,” he hissed. Even better than he imagined. You couldn’t help but immediately start rolling your hips. Kageyama sat back a moment, watching you fuck yourself on his cock. He squeezed your hips and ass, keeping your rhythm steady as you rocked your hips.
He spread your ass a little, a gasp escaping your lips as you feel him spit on you. You did not expect that from Kageyama. His thumb circled the tight rim of your ass before pressing inside.
You cried out something incoherent as the pleasure you felt heightened. Each roll of your hips felt extra intense, now that he occupied both holes. As if that wasn’t enough, Kageyama reached forward to toy with your clit again. Your body surged with pleasure as you squeezed around his cock and thumb. Even as your orgasm hit, the pleasure didn’t subside. If anything it was build and -
“Oh god,” you whine as a gush of release left you. The composure Kageyama had been holding crumbled at the sight. He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he came. Even lost in his own pleasure, he never faltered, letting you ride out your high completely. You didn’t move from his lap when you finished, not trusting your legs to hold you. “Holy shit Kageyama,” was all you could manage.
“Was that good?” This time the question sounded genuine. You almost laughed, as it sounded like how he asked the spikers if they liked his set.
“Very good.”
Two to go.
You debated saying fuck the whole competition and going back to Kageyama for seconds. It wasn’t against the rules, technically, but your competitive spirit kept you from straying from the goal. Besides you really wanted that $500. Still, you hadn’t pursued either Sugawara or Daichi yet, knowing you’d have to be careful with them. They weren't as easily... won over as the others. Little did you know, Sugawara had his sights set on you,
“Hey, y/n, need any help?” he asked. You were in the team’s storage room, taking account of all the equipment. It was part of your job to make sure everything was in good shape and put in orders for more as needed. Normally, your friend and co-manager helped you with the task, but she was sick, leaving it to you.
“That would be great, if you don’t mind,” you replied. Sugawara joined in organizing and taking stock of everything. The two of you chatted easily as you worked. Sugawara was one of your favorite players on the team. He was incredible kind and you appreciated his sense of humor.
“Hey, y/n, have you ever had like a bucket list? Or something like that?” Sugawara asked.
“Sure there’s a list of things I’d like to do,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Well... I’ve always thought it would be fun to hook up with someone in the team room. I guess that makes me a stereotypical jock, huh?”
You laughed. “Oh? So did you only offer to help in hopes of getting laid?”
“No I swear, I didn’t,” he laughed, “But this does look pretty bad now.”
“It’s all good,” you replied, “I’d be happy to help.” If only he knew how much he was help you.
Suga smiled. “I promise I’ll make it worth it.” He pressed you agains the wall, gently, and kissed you. You welcomed his soft, warm lips. His kiss was sweet and soft, but there was a hunger behind it that made your stomach flip. The next thing you knew, Suga was on his knees.
“Can I?” his warm, brow eyes looking up at you pleadingly. You nodded and he hooked his fingers into your leggings sliding them off you. Suga put one leg over his shoulder, placing a soft kisses on your inner thigh. Once he’d teased you enough, he went for your pussy. He had a gentler approach, almost like making out with your cunt, but it still drove you wild.
“Suga,” you let out a content sigh. Your hands tangled in his hair, pushing him further into you. Suga hummed approvingly, loving the pretty noises you made. Your leg went weak as Suga sucked on your clit, but his grip kept your firmly upright.
“Cum for me, pretty,” Suga murmured. With the flick of his tongue you did just that. Breathless moans fell from your lips as a warm surge of pleasure filled you. The second you finished you were pulling Suga up to kiss. You tasted yourself on his lips, kissing him deeply. Your hands went to his shorts, pulling at them. Suga chuckled at you. “Lemme.”
He pulled a condom out of his pocket before slipping his cock out. You hugged him tightly as he pushed into you. Suga rocked into you slowly at first. You kissed his neck, murmuring how good it felt. Suga hooked his hand under your knee, pressing it up so he can get deeper. The angle urged a moan from you that made his cock ache. “Feel good?”
“Yes,” you gasped into his neck. You dug your nails into him as you reached the limits of your sensitivity. He continued as he felt your pussy tightening around him. He was panting and moaning in your ear, a sound you could only describe as pretty.
“That’s it let go for me,” he urged. You couldn't help but comply, your body going slack as your second orgasm washed over you. Sugawara sounded even prettier when he was cumming. His hips stuttered as he released, holding you close. You held each other as you caught your breath.
“This will stay between us, right?” you asked.
Suga smiled. “It will be our little secret.”
Just one left.
It was spring break and the end of the school year was on the horizon. You had a lot of big assignments due at the end of the year, opting to stay on campus to get them done. You found out Daichi was doing the same, leaving him alone at the team house for a week. You knew this was probably your only shot.
You offered to work with him so he wouldn’t be alone at the house, which he happily accepted. You spent the days being each others moral support getting through your tough assignments and insuring the other person took breaks. It did help a lot, Daichi was good at keeping you on task and you were good at helping him not over stress himself. It was the last night of break and you both finally finished your assignments. The relief was palpable, but so was the tension. You got the sense that Daichi was flirting with you at times, but he was hard to read. You were anxious to finally finish your other assignment. You knew if it didn’t happen now, it probably wouldn’t at all.
“So how should we celebrate?” you asked. You were sitting on this counter, swinging your legs idly.
Daichi looked at you, catching something suggestive in your voice. “Sounds like you have an idea.” He held your gaze in a way that felt like an invitation.
“Well, I have been thinking about something...” you trailed off, smirking a little.
Daichi stepped closer to you. “Oh? And what is that?”
You leaned forward slightly, which drew Daichi closer to you. “Might be easier to show you.”
“I hope you do.” He was standing between your leg then. There was only another beat of tense silence before you pulled him in. He gripped your hips, kissing you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting Daichi control the kiss. “Wrap your legs around me.” When you did, Daichi lifted you off the counter.
He carried you to the bedroom, placing you gently on the bed. You continued to kiss as clothing came off. Daichi slipped his fingers between your legs, sliding them into your pussy. He pumped them into you, stretching your pussy and making it slick. “You want more?” he asked against your lips.
You nodded and he pulled a condom out of his bedside table. He put it on positioned himself between your legs. Daichi was really thick, maybe thicker than Asahi. Even with him fingering you, it was a stretch. “Fuck you’re tight,” he groaned as he bottomed out. He kissed and sucked your tits as he snapped his hips against yours. Once you got used to it, the stretch felt good. Your hips bucked up to meet his, pressing him deeper inside you
“S’big,” you whimpered. Daichi pressed on your lower stomach, heightening the sensation of him inside you. His thumb went down to your clit, rubbing circles over it. Your back arched of the bed as a surge of pleasure seized you. Not just pleasure, pleasure and triumph. Your orgasm was heightened with the satisfaction of winning the bet.
Daichi fucked you through your orgasm until his own took him over. He groaned into your, slowing his thrusts to enjoy every last moment. He pulled out when you both finished, rolling over on the bed next to you. “Well I am significantly less stressed now.”
You laughed. “Same.” He had not idea how much stress he just took off your plate. “Would it be okay if we didn’t tell anyone, though? The guys on the team are kinda immature. If they found out...” You let him fill in the blanks of his teammates finding out he hooked up with the manager. He absolutely did not want that mess to happen.
“Absolutely. It stays between us.”
Success.
A few days later you sat with your friend in your dorm filling her in and counting your cash. “I still can’t believe you did it.”
“I know, honestly I’m impressed with myself.”
“Okay but I have to know, how did they do?” You friend has asked you for details along the way, but you insisted on saving it for the end.
“Let me preface this by saying they were all good, and I would hook up with any of them again,” you stated. You explained that Yams was last, mostly just because of his inexperience. You would, however, not mind being with him again one on one and really rocking his world.
“You’re gonna scare the poor guy,” your friend commented.
You grinned, “I think he’d like it. Anyways...” In a surprising turn of events, Daichi was next.
“No way.”
“Yeah I mean it wasn’t bad, but he needs to do more foreplay,” you explained.
“Fair enough.”
Next way Asahi, another surprisingly low 3rd year. You explained that he lost points for cumming quick, but the way he whimpered and moaned was hot so you couldn’t be that mad about it. Next came Tsuki, who you wished could be lower, but alas it was good.
“And his dick was really big. Like the biggest on the team.”
Your friend laughed. “No wonder he’s so cocky.”
Tanaka was next. A solid fuck, no complaints.
“He is super into boobs.”
Your friend rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I think anyone who’s ever met him coulda told you that.”
Next was Suga. “He’s just like... so sweet dude. It was almost kinda romantic.”
“You really need to go on more real dates if you think fucking in the team storage closet is romantic.”
You laughed, “I swear it was! He was best of the third years by far.”
Next was Hinata. “You did WHAT in the gym?” your friend questioned.
“Yeah, I know, I know. Kinda crazy.”
“Very crazy. But please go on.”
“Unsurprisingly, he had tons of energy. But I was surprised by how good he was. I should’ve known better than to underestimate him.”
Next was Nishinoya. “He was so good. And so eager. I just know he’d be super fun in bed the more you get with him.”
“You sure it’s not your crush talking?”
“Shut up. This is all totally objective scientific work.”
“Wait... so does that mean... Kageyama?”
“Yes!” You told her about how he took you by surprise. That he was amazing with his hands and knew exactly how to work you up. And that he made you squirt.
“No fucking way.”
“Believe me, I was shocked too.”
You spent the rest of the night gossiping over the experiences and who you wanted to have a round 2 with.
A/n: this was kinda a convoluted idea and I didn’t really know how to end its lmao. But hope you enjoyed tysm for reading<3
#haikyuu smut#haikyu smut#haikyu x reader#haikyu headcanons#nishinoya smut#nishinoya x reader#tanaka ryunosuke x reader#tanaka smut#asahi smut#asahi x reader#yamaguchi x y/n#tsukishima headcanons#tsukishima x you#tsukishima smut#hinata shoyo smut#hinata shoyo x reader#kageyama smut#kageyama x reader#sugawara headcanons#sugawara smut#daichi smut
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Cinnabon
Summary: (mall rats 7, final part!) Joel ruins a special moment, leading to another stupid argument, leading to him fucking the daylights out of you on his couch. Lovingly.
Tags: AU where yeast is not dead and we can all bake and be happy. Cordyceps is no longer in the flour/sugar either (work with me) Cinnabons, 69, dirty talk, unprotected Piv, creampie because it’s me, strang3lov3. soft dom joel because again, it’s me, strang3lov3. Strange highs and strange lows, that’s how my love goes. You get it.
A/N: As always, thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️ you’ve helped me so much on this series and you have no clue how thankful I am for that. Definitely abusing your talents for the next shit I wanna write! And thank you to everyone who’s read and reblogged, commented, all of that good stuff. This was a blast to write!!!
This may not be the absolute end of these two, so you might get an update on them here and there, most likely in the form of yet another lovers quarrel. But I have so much stuff planned and I hope you continue to keep up with me ❤️ excited for the new year and to share what else i've been writing with all of you 🩷
It’s early in the morning in late December when you’re walking up to Joel’s porch, holding a basket full of ingredients and a dusty copy of Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. You knock on the door, no answer. With Joel’s poor hearing, sometimes it’s better to knock on his back door. He seems to hear it better, closer to his bedroom and all that. You make your way to his back door, where you find Ellie quietly opening the window next to the door, no doubt sneaking back from a friend’s house. You startle each other, “Ellie, hi,” you say. You wrinkle your nose, she smells like weed. You can’t help but smirk.
“Oh,” she says, “Hi. I’m not– I’m just–”
“I won’t tell Joel,” you smile. Ellie’s staring at your basket of goodies, where one of your lacy Victoria’s Secret thongs sits on top of a blue Cinnabon apron. “I’m just…baking. For Joel. Are you gonna be home today?”
It’s Ellie’s turn to smirk at you, as she opens the window the rest of the way and lifts herself inside the house. You hear her heavy footsteps before she unlocks and opens the door for you. “I can disappear,” she replies, “I require payment, though.”
“I’ll leave you a plate outside your door.”
“Deal.”
Ellie goes to her room probably to change clothes, and you go toward Joel’s kitchen. “I want two of whatever you’re making,” Ellie calls out before slamming the back door again, probably going back to her friend’s house. That girl certainly knows how to negotiate. You can’t help but love her for it.
Joel usually wakes up early, but he’s not on his recliner where you expect him to be. Must be in bed. You smile to yourself, picturing Joel coming downstairs in his pajamas, hair messy and sighing in pleasure at the sweet aroma of butter and cinnamon.
You’re making Cinnabons this morning. Well, cinnamon rolls, as Betty Crocker puts it. When you and Joel were in the Barnes and Noble at the mall picking up books for Jackson’s library, you had stumbled across Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. Flipping through the pages, you found a recipe for cinnamon rolls and thought back to that first time in the mall with Joel, where he explained what a Cinnabon was, and then lied about his sweet tooth.
There were loads of recipes, many interesting pictures too. You brought the book to Joel and pointed at a picture of some odd, translucent dome-shaped food item. He told you it was called Jell-O, and that no one misses it. You wanted to take the cookbook back with you, but there wasn’t room in the duffel bag. And you couldn’t bear to rip out a single page for one recipe. That would just be cruel.
At the end of the day, you went back to Tommy’s office with Joel. Joel usually walks you home, but he didn’t that day. Said he was running late for game night with Ellie, so he took off quickly. Tommy told you he’d walk you home, though.
As you and Tommy went through some of the books, he heard you sigh disappointedly, “What’s gotcha down, hon?”
“There was this book I wanted, but we didn’t have room.”
“What book?”
“Cookbook,” you replied, “I wanted to make a recipe for Joel.”
“Ah,” Tommy murmured, flipping through the pages of an old picture book, “Which recipe?”
“Cinnamon rolls.”
“Oh man,” Tommy groaned. He checked his watch, then looked at you with a light in his eyes.
“I’ll take you back there right now to get that book.”
“You’d do that?”, you asked.
“For you, of course. But I got my motives. Ya gotta hook me up with some of those rolls.”
There are few things that make you feel as loved and appreciated as when Tommy’s eating your food, showering you in the sweetest compliments and praises. No problem, you’d gladly share your baking with him. So Tommy took you back to the mall. You led him to the bookstore, picked up your book and went on your merry way. Tommy still hadn’t gotten to check the mall out for himself, though. So he wandered through the same areas you did, through the food court you and Joel picked through all that time ago. At the Cinnabon stand, he tossed you a blue apron with the word ‘Cinnabon’ embroidered at the chest. “Bet ya could make Joel turn bright red with this.”
You picked up what he was putting down immediately. And, thinking about it, you had a lacy thong that would match the apron perfectly. You remembered the blush on Joel’s cheeks as you tried on lingerie at Victoria’s Secret, how he mumbled something about lingerie being a waste of time before fucking you in the dressing room, still wearing your pretty pink chiffon babydoll. You wondered if faced with a big, gooey cinnamon roll sitting in front of him, and you in nothing but an apron and a thong, he’d still lie about that sweet tooth of his and his disdain for lingerie. Cause for an experiment.
–
In Joel’s kitchen, you prepare the recipe. You prepped the dough last night, giving it plenty of time to rise. All you have to do this morning is prepare the cinnamon-sugar mixture and the icing. Oh, and put on that apron and thong. Not too hard.
Once the rolls are assembled in the pan, you put them in Joel’s oven and change into your little outfit, feeling a little breeze on your bare ass. Good thing Ellie’s gone. As you’re waiting for the rolls to bake, you lean over Joel’s kitchen table and flip through the pages of your cookbook. The Jell-O still has you perplexed.
Some time goes by. You’re reading about the Jell-O, how Betty Crocker said that it was great for parties and baby showers and other things like that. The slam of the glass door behind you startles you. You whip around, and there’s Joel with bright red cheeks, looking shocked and horrified. Through the glass door, you see Tommy in Joel’s yard. He waves at you, smiling. You wave back.
“Jesus Christ,” Joel grumbles, quickly pulling the blinds over the glass door to protect your modesty, “You gonna explain why you’re bare assed in my kitchen?”
“I thought you were sleeping,” you reply.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he grumbles, as the egg timer you set prior goes off with a ding. You open the oven and pull out the cinnamon rolls with a pair of potholders, giving Joel a perfect view of your entire ass. “Oh my god,” he groans. When you turn around, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, always so dramatic. You reach for the Pyrex measuring bowl full of icing you prepared and begin drizzling it over the warm cinnamon rolls. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy. You’re somethin’ else, you know that? I never know what–”, Joel stops speaking, and you look back at him once more. He’s intrigued, eyes wide. The pastry has pulled his attention away from your nearly-bare body. “Those uh– those cinnamon rolls?”
“Cinnabons,” you correct him, pointing to the embroidered logo on your chest, “But yeah– cinnamon rolls.”
“Right,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. He reaches into one of his drawers for a fork and pushes you out of the way.
“Joel,” you complain as he steals a bite of the cinnamon rolls, right out of the pan. He blows on it first, careful not to burn his tongue. When he tastes the pastry, his eyes flutter shut. He moans softly. “You said once that you missed Cinnabons,” you explain, speaking softly. Joel reaches for another bite, right out of the pan.
“Mhm,” he mumbles, mouth full of dessert.
“What’s the verdict?”
“Cinnabon’s better,” he answers plainly.
Your face drops. “What?”
“Yeah this–”, he takes another bite, “S’no good at all.”
He’s fucking with you. Probably gonna say something dumb like how you should give him the pan, let him dispose of those no good cinnamon rolls for you. “Dick,” you punch his arm for scaring you like that. He doesn’t mind.
“You made these for me?”
“Yeah,” you say quietly, “For you.”
“For me,” he repeats, a soft smile on his face. You’re kind of baffled at his mood change, but you know what they say about men and food; the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, all that stuff. He steps closer to you, backing you against the countertop and turning off his oven, still wearing that smile, like he knows something you don’t.
“But I owe Tommy and Ellie one, too,” you continue, voice a little shaky. You’re nervous, why is he making you nervous? Joel sets his fork down and stares at you, lovingly, tenderly. “I made two batches before this, fucked both of those up. And then I ran out of sugar, actually. Tommy had to steal me some more.”
“I love you.”
His words hit you like a ton of bricks. He says it plainly, no frills. Just out with it.
“You do?”
“Mhm,” he hums, “I do. Still would like an answer as to why you’re half-naked, though.”
Your face heats up. What were you saying? The cinnamon rolls, right.
“I was– I don’t know. I had to knead the rolls by hand. The recipe said a stand mixer would be easier, but I didn’t…”, you trail off, feeling a little fuzzy, like you can’t think straight, your train of thought slipping away from you, “Didn’t have one. I love you too, actually.”
“I know,” he replies softly. He never doubted it for a second. Lord, he’s so handsome. His eyes sparkle more than usual, his fluffy curls untamed. The flannel he’s wearing suits him perfectly, and you can’t help but stare, stammering quietly. He reaches for your face with one hand, wrapping the other around your waist and pulling you close to his body, “I’m gonna kiss you now.”
Oh, fuck. You squirm out from his hold, away from the counter he held you against. Joel looks absolutely baffled as you smile sheepishly. “Can you grab me a plate for the Cinnabons?”, you ask, “I need to leave one by Ellie’s door.”
“I’d like to kiss you first, if you don’t mind,” he says, walking towards you. You keep walking backwards, around the kitchen table. Joel follows you as you look through his drawers for a spatula, opening and closing cabinets with shaky hands as you try to find a plate. Where are his fucking plates? Joel reaches for your hand to stop you. “Will you let me kiss you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
Joel’s missing something here. Has to be. You love Joel. Joel loves you. That’s been established, just like, two minutes ago. And you’ve been intimate with him many times before. The next logical step in this series of very out of order steps would be to kiss you. Unless…“Are you nervous?”, he asks.
“About what?”, you ask, “Kissing?”
“No, underwater basket weaving. Yes, kissing,” he sighs, “You seem nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” you lie, “I’d just like to be the one to do it first.”
“Oh,” Joel replies, still a little confused, “Yeah, naturally. Makes sense.” He takes you by the hand and leads you to his living room, sits you on the couch and takes his place next to you. “Lay it on me, then.”
“I can’t just–”
“You can,” he interrupts, coaxing you gently, “Come closer.” You scoot closer, but it’s not enough for Joel. Still wearing nothing but a thong and an apron, he lifts you by your ass and places you on his lap. Joel wears an expectant look on his face as you adjust yourself on his lap, feeling so awkward and out of your element. You’ve kissed people before, this should be no big deal. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous with Joel, especially when you’ve done everything else with him.
“Joel, I– I don’t know where to put my hands.”
“Right here,” he whispers, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Or here,” he moves your hands to his jaw, his patchy beard prickly under your fingertips. “Wherever you want.”
“I like your shoulders,” you whisper, dropping your hands back to his shoulders. One of your hands slides to the back of his neck, playing with his soft curls.
“S’good,” he says. And oh, his eyes. Brown and so warm, inviting, so beautiful.
“Close your eyes,” you demand, intimidated by his stare. “Sorry. Close your eyes,” you repeat, softer.
“My bad,” Joel replies, his eyes now shut. You’ve never noticed how pretty his lashes are before now. They’re gorgeous, so long. “They’re closed now.”
“Okay,” you breathe.
“You got it,” he encourages.
God, this is daunting. You close your eyes, lean forward…and smooch him right on the cheek. There. Easy.
“Doesn’t count,” Joel murmurs through a smile, eyes still closed. Fuck. You adjust yourself on his lap, lean forward and…nothing. Joel waits. And waits. And waits.
“I’m gonna kiss you now,” you say, trying to will yourself to just do it.
“Okay, sweetheart. You got it,” he whispers. But you don’t kiss him yet, and Joel keeps waiting, feeling himself beginning to grow hard as you keep squirming on his lap, adjusting yourself some more. “Hon?”
“Yeah?”
“Any minute, now.”
“I know,” you say, “I’m gonna kiss you.” But you adjust again. A minute passes with you on Joel’s lap as he waits patiently for you to finally kiss him. Another minute. And then you lean forward and – nothing.
“I’m gonna count down from three, and then you’ll kiss me. How about that?”
Yeah, sounds like a plan.
“Okay,” you reply.
“Three…two…”, Joel counts, and you prepare once more to kiss him, “One,” Nothing. Joel sighs, “You’re killin’ me here.”
“I was about to do it, Joel.”
“Uh huh.”
“I was,” you argue, “You just keep talking and–”
“Oh, you’re so full of shit. You’re the one doin’ most of the talkin’, like usual.”
“That’s not true,” you argue, but are interrupted when he opens his eyes. That’s not supposed to happen. He wears a mischievous grin as he sits up and his hands begin to slide up your sides. Your already pounding heart begins to beat even harder, faster, because Jesus Christ, he seems like he’s about to kiss you. “What are you doing?”
“Ya got three more seconds to kiss me. Three…”
“Joel, not funny,” you scold as he takes your face in his hands.
“Two…”
You’re beginning to panic, “Joel–”
And then he fucking kisses you, the bastard! No tongue, just a sweet, gentle peck. It’s despicable. You shove him back on the couch and glare at him, “You kissed me!”
“How awful,” Joel says with mock sympathy before he leans forward and kisses you again. You shove him again, harder.
“You asshole. I was gonna do it.”
“No, you weren’t,” he replies plainly. He tries to kiss you again, but you keep your hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the couch cushion. Joel’s smirking, but you’re scowling.
“Yes, I was.”
“Okay,” Joel laughs, “We can redo it, then.”
You sigh, “No, Joel, we cannot redo it. You already ruined it.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“Shit. S’too bad,” Joel feigns a sympathetic pout as he wraps both hands around your wrists that pin his shoulders, removing them from his body. He pushes your hands behind your back, holding them tightly as he kisses you again. And again, this time a little longer. Your lips begin to slide against his, and…god, they’re soft. The bastard.
“You’re ruining–”
“For the love of god, you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts,” Joel mumbles against your lips.
“I was supposed to–”
“No. You had your turn. We’re doin’ it my way now,” Joel says, “That means,” he kisses you, “M’gonna kiss you,” another kiss, “And fuck you,” another kiss, “As I please, because I love you,” he whispers. He kisses you before he maneuvers you to lay across the couch cushions, now pinning your wrists above your head under just one of his hands “And you can’t do a thing about it. Got it?”
“I–”
He doesn’t let you argue further. Always so stubborn, you. “Good girl. Yeah, you got it,” Joel kisses you again. It’s different this time. Deeper, hungrier, messier. So much tension, time spent dancing around feelings, and it’s all out there now. His tongue slides past your lips and he tastes like cinnamon and sugar. You’ve been depriving yourself of him for too long. “And after all this, I’m gonna eat some of them cinnabons you made. And I won’t share, either.”
With his free hand, Joel unzips his pants to free his cock. “You know what you do to me, trouble?” he asks, breathing heavily. “Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that squirmin’ ya did instead of kissin’ me,” Joel lifts the bottom of your apron up, exposing yourself to him, already dripping wet as he pulls off your soaked thong. You could have expected the ensemble wouldn’t have lasted long. And how are you already wet? One second you’re arguing about a stupid kiss and the next, he’s got you pinned beneath him and you’re dripping. You gasp as Joel gathers your slick with his fingers before stroking his cock, dipping his head back down to kiss you. He kisses your lips sloppily, then your cheek and down your jaw, your neck, nipping at the skin and soothing the marks with his tongue. It feels hot and passionate, and loving and dirty; all the best things at once.
“Oh, god,” you moan as he kisses further down your body, still stroking his cock. He pauses momentarily to pull the strap of the apron over your head, then lifting your ass to untie the apron in the back. He pulls the fabric away from you quickly, tossing it on the floor. He kisses your chest, dividing his attention equally between your breasts. Pinching, twisting one nipple, kissing and licking the other, then switching. He leaves them wet with his spit as he kisses down your body, stopping before he reaches your pussy. “Joel,” you whine, “Please– need your mouth on me.”
“Oh, convenient. Now you want my mouth,” he breathes, teasing you.
“Please, I need it, need you,” you beg.
“Wouldn’t ya know it, I need your mouth too.”
“So? Me first.”
“God, you’re a brat. Nice try,” Joel pulls away from your body, taking off his clothes quickly, “Said we’re doin’ things my way. Tryin’ somethin’ new today. Scoot,” he motions for you to move to the side. “On all fours, now. Come on, up,” you scoot to the side where Joel tells you to, slightly confused as you take the position. Joel takes his place next to you, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to his face. “Sit,” he tells you.
“Joel,” you begin to protest. Surely he doesn’t want you to actually sit on his face, right?
“You trust me.” It’s not a question. He knows you trust him, he knows you know he’ll take care of you. Of course he will. His voice is firm, confident, “I need you to sit,” as he pulls your center to his mouth, wasting no time in pressing kisses into your folds, slick and sticky with your growing arousal. Your breasts are pressed against his soft stomach, hands gripping his meaty thighs. Freeing an arm from its place at your hip, Joel wraps his hand around his cock, rock hard with a swollen blushed tip. He uses his other hand to reach for your head, pushing your face towards his member. “Take me in your mouth,” he says. “See? We’re compromising. S’what people in love do.” What an asshole.
Wrapping a hand around his thick cock, you guide his tip to your mouth, pressing wet kisses against the smooth skin. He tastes like he always does, familiar and masculine, salty and sweaty, as you trace over his swollen veins with your tongue. Joel groans against your cunt as he parts your lips, your tongue still painting delicate swirls on his skin.
“Yeah, attagirl,” he praises in a raspy voice, “Best of both worlds, ain’t it?” Joel laps at your cunt, moaning softly at the way you taste, your arousal almost as sweet and delicious as your cinnamon rolls from earlier. He keeps you held firm against his face as he licks you, alternating between drawing firm lines with the tip of his tongue and fat stripes with his tongue flattened.
“Mmmm,” you moan, voice muffled by his cock. You’ve got him as deep as you can take him, your nose nudging his balls slightly as you cup them gently in your hand. Joel surprises you when he dips his tongue into your pussy, tasting every bit of your pussy. You stop what you’re doing, the only thing your mind can focus on is the feeling of his tongue working magic inside you.
He swats your hip, “Know it feels good, but it goes both ways, sweetheart.”
“Please, Joel,” you beg.
“You know the rules,” he says, “You stop, I stop. Keep goin’, you’re suckin’ my cock so good, sweetheart. So good. Always do, you know that?” You begin to bob your head on his cock once more, Joel rewarding you with wet, sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your pussy. It takes everything you have to focus on his pleasure when he attaches his lips to your clit, sucking gently on the sensitive spot and humming against you. It’s not long before that familiar feeling begins to build in your stomach, your first orgasm washing over you.
You gasp for air, “Oh my god, Joel,” as he works you through your climax. Joel never lets up, not once. He keeps sucking, licking your clit, his facial hair tickling your skin and only adding to the overwhelming sensation. Once more, your peak begins to build. “I’m– fuck, I’m gonna come again.”
“S’the fuckin’ point, my love,” Joel mumbles quietly, and you can feel his smirk. Despite the rules, you’re not even sucking his cock anymore, your face instead resting on his body, haphazardly stroking his length as pleasure erupts from your core. You’re a moaning mess, pussy dripping and soaking Joel’s face.
Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath. Underneath you, he places one last kiss right on your clit before he gently slides himself out from your body. You’re hardly coherent as he meets you once more, this time his face inches above yours, caging you in his arms. His cock bounces between your legs and he leans down to kiss you again. His lips are wet and you can taste your arousal on his tongue. “Look at that, I stole another one,” he taunts.
“You’re a dick,” you breathe against his mouth, your body betraying you as you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips.
“Yeah, yeah,” and in one swift motion, Joel lines himself up with your entrance and pushes into you. He kisses you again, swallowing your gasp as he parts your insides, letting you feel every inch of him. God, he feels good. You’ll never tire of that stretch, that delicious feeling of being completely full of him.
“Oh, Joel,” you moan. He pulls out slowly, then slides back in at a harsher pace, grunting when he bottoms out inside of you. He takes both of your hands in his own, pinning them above your head as he rocks his hips. It’s tender yet dominant, just how everything is with Joel. Just how you like him.
“Love this pussy,” he purrs, “An’ I love you so much,” as he fucks you deeply, intensely. You whimper through his thrusts, each stroke fluid and firm and intentional. He knows your body like his own. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. You always do.”
You writhe underneath him, relishing in the pleasure he gives you. His name and sweet whisperings of love are all you can speak, each word coming out in soft, broken cries. The wet, sticky noises of your pussy fill the room, along with your moans and Joel’s grunting, groaning, and heaving breaths. You tilt your head to the side, arms still pinned beneath Joel’s hands. You kiss his wrists and bite his skin there gently.
“Come with me, baby,” he coos, adjusting the angle and finding that sweet spot inside you, that spot he knows and loves. He lets go of your arms, one of his big, masculine hands now on your waist, the other thumbing your clit. “Give me one more, sweetheart.”
It’s all it takes. His words send you over the edge, your pussy squeezing him, walls fluttering and pulsing with every thrust of his cock. “Fuck, Joel,” you whimper as he fucks you through your orgasm. You wrap your legs around his body, the heels of your feet bouncing against his ass, simultaneously pulling him into a tight embrace with your now free arms. Everything about this moment with Joel is perfect, the way he smells, his hot skin, how close and safe you feel with him. It sends Joel over the edge, too. With your name on his lips, your cunt gushing and pulsing around his cock, he spills inside you, painting ribbons of himself deep inside you as he helps you ride out your own climax as long as he can.
He pulls out of you with a soft groan. He cleans you quickly with his t-shirt, a warm smile on his lips. He kisses your forehead, then sits back against the couch, catching his breath. You sit up too, and Joel holds out his arm as an invitation for you to curl into his side. Your head resting on his shoulder, you stare at him. All of his beautiful features, warm brown eyes, his smile lines, his aquiline nose. And then, you do it. You kiss him. Long and deep, passionate. Hours could be passing, you don’t know.
Joel breaks the kiss. He pulls away from you, no longer smiling warmly. Instead, he wears his teasing grin. “Finally,” he smirks. He holds up his hand for a high five. Fucker. You roll your eyes, lifting yourself off the couch and buttoning Joel’s flannel over yourself. You make your way to the kitchen, finding a plate and placing two cinnamon rolls on them. You reach for an old pencil that sits on the window sill, scribbling ‘Ellie’ on a piece of nearby scratch paper and leaving it next to the plate. A deal is a deal, after all.
“Don’t leave me hangin’, now,” Joel calls out to you from the living room. You turn around and he’s waving his hand, nagging you about his abandoned high five.
You flip him off. Asshole.
#strang3lov3#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller#strang3lov3 recs#the last of us#pedro pascal#the last of us hbo#pedro pascal joel miller#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal characters#mall rats!joel#mall rats joel#mall rats
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
s e v e n
p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader
g e n r e : baby daddy au
t a g s : sleazy!jk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, messy sex, half assed blowjob, rough sex, possessive!jk, he’s a jealous mess, he’s also like a lost puppy following you around, pervy!jk, dirty talk, light degradation, jk literally wants you all the time, oc is mean n cunty, but she’s also weak when it comes to him, me thinks he’s toxic, toxic!jk tag to be safe (for now LMAO), hyunjin gets put in his place three times LMAO, sex tapes, THIS IS NASTY Y’ALL
w o r d c o u n t : 5.5 k
s u m m a r y : “You know night after night, I’ll be fuckin’ you right,” or: “Girl hold on my baby daddy calling again.”
“Jungkook,” you sigh deeply, “I’m not kidding you can’t miss this, it’s his special day and he wants his dad there too,” You grit your teeth while digging through the pantry with your phone balanced on your shoulder, “No! I already told you what he wants to do afterwards we’re not just going to cancel those plans because you wanna show off when you feel like it. He’s six!”
You’re already irritated and Jungkook clearly wasn’t making things any better with his nonchalant attitude and condescending words/tone. “Jungkook–you’re not listening–”
“Baby I heard ya loud and clear, stop stressin’ that pretty little head of yours. Sounds like you’re about to pop a nerve or something,” Jungkook replies with that stupid laugh of his, “I mean I know a couple things that can help you relax.”
You close your eyes and count to three under your breath tilting your head back and pinching the bridge of your nose. “...Tell me to calm down one more time and see what happens Jeon Jungkook,” you go to say more but he cuts you off.
“I didn’t tell you to calm down, I said to stop stressing.”
“........” Oh this man had you mad already, and he wasn’t even here yet. You ignore his voice and shakily set down the bag of bread you had pulled from the pantry. This man was so fucking dead when he got here.
“Ow–! Baby what the hell?” Jungkook yelps as soon as he walks through the door, he’s holding his arms up to block the stuff you throw at him (and they’re not soft either). “Did I do something?” He whines.
You glare fiercely back at him, “Did you do something? Don’t act smart with me Jungkook, you know damn well what you’re doing. Stop acting stupid because you look stupid.” You hurl your son’s toy ball at him and perfectly strike his head, “Today is not the day you hear me, Jiho’s been looking forward to his recital and you’re not going to ruin it by being a deadbeat.” You seethe.
Jungkook raises his hands in surrender, “Baby all I said was to quit stressin’,” he walks over carefully in case you planned on throwing something else, “you know I’d never make my baby mad on purpose.” He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you to his chest, “Is this a new dress? Looks sexy.” He teases as he sneaks his hand down to your ass and squeezes it through the dress.
“Don’t change the subject,” you shake his hand away and stare up at him, “and how do you keep coming in here? Nevermind that, stop coming in like you live here.” You grunted.
“I found the key under the doormat, you should really hide it somewhere else.” Jungkook grins as he tries to kiss you but he misses and ends up kissing up on the side of your face, “ “Don’t be like that babe.” He pouts.
You grumble once more and relax into his arms, “Swear to me you’re not going to mess this up for Jiho.” You grab his face and direct it towards you, “Swear it.” You stare into his eyes with a pleading look.
Jungkook nods, “I swear.” He gently squeezes you, “I only want the best for Jiho too, he’s my son after all.” You stare at him, as if you’re trying to find any hints of deceivement but you find none in his eyes, in fact he looks sincere for once.
“Okay..” You softly reply and let his face go, “I believe you.”
He does that stupid (but charming) thing where he smiles coyly, borderline smirking, as he stares down at you with those playful eyes of his. “Now what do you say we relax a little yeah? You’re looking a little too fine for me to let it go to waste baby..” He gently runs his hands up and down your sides, slithering their way back to your ass like he had them before.
You laugh in disbelief, “You’re ridiculous, I can’t believe you.” You shake your head as Jungkook leans down to bury his nose in the side of your neck, “Fine.”
Jungkook grins triumphantly as he spins you around in the direction of the hallway where the bedroom lies. “Lead the way lil’ mama.” Jungkook murmurs in a low tone, eyes dropping down to admire your pretty ass. You take his hand and lead the way, biting back small laughs of amusement as he encircles his arms around you from behind and kisses on your neck.
You stumble into the room and let the straps of your sundress slip off your shoulders but he stops you, “No, wanna fuck you in it baby.” He whispers in your ear as he guides you on to the bed, “Damn, you look so fuckin’ fine walkin’ around like this. If only they knew how I make you mine every night baby.” He stands at the edge of the bed, hands slowly undoing his belt buckle and jeans. His Calvin Klein boxers peek out from underneath in all their glory making your mouth water a tiny bit.
“And if I said this dress wasn’t for you? I mean, you fuck me every night but do you know who comes when you’re not here?” You lick your lips with a smirk, “You have no clue what happens when you’re gone.” Jungkook’s eyes darken at that, the way he looks at you is enough to have you creaming your panties.
“Oh yeah? Like who mama? Go on and tell me,” He climbs on the bed and flips your dress up, “does he make you cum like I do? Has you shaking n creamin’ this slutty pussy all over his cock?” He yanks your panties down your legs and tosses the ruined item on to the ground below, “Let me tell you something,” he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, “he may be here when I’m gone but you always come back for this dick baby.”
You bite back your moan from the utter filth he just spewed at you, your poor pussy’s throbbing from all this and you desperately need his tongue or something on you. “Jungkook,” you quietly groan, “if you’re gonna fuck around then let go.” You glare.
“Patience, wanna savor my baby’s sweet lil’ pussy.” He hungrily licks his lips, “You got a man starved sweetheart,” he goes down between your legs, “I’ll make sure you forget all about your..friend.” He shoots a wink at you before he disappears under your dress.
Jungkook’s hot breath fans over your poor cunt and it tickles your clit and sends a shiver down your spine in anticipation. Luckily he doesn’t disappoint and his tongue dips low between your dewy soft folds, licking upwards until he circles your clit. A long sigh slips past your lips, you slide your hands into his hair and grip the curly strands as a means to hold on, “Oh fuck..” You whisper.
Jungkook hums against your pussy and buries himself nose deep while he licks and sucks at your slicked up hole. His nose brushes past your clit, bumping it gently and causing tiny little jolts of pleasure. “Mm..” You spread your thighs wider to make more room for him. You can feel his tongue prod at your sopping hole, dipping in teasingly but not quite slipping in just yet.
He curls his hands around your thighs and groans low, you can see his hips rock up into the bed as he grinds his hard cock over the sheets. The sight sends shivers down your spine as you push your pussy up into his mouth, “Kook,” you bite your lip, “need more..”
Jungkook makes some obscene slurping noises before he pulls away, panting slightly before he dives back in, only this time he aims for your sensitive clit. He wraps his lips around the bud and suckles, moaning so the vibrations travel. A shocked moan leaves you, your eyes slip shut and you roll your hips like you’re trying to fuck your pussy into his mouth some more.
His fingers trail down to push into your sloppy cunt, a low lewd squelching noise audible in the background as he fucks his fingers in and out of you steadily. Your toes curl and you hike your legs up over his shoulders. Jungkook doesn’t take it easy on your poor cunt opting to fuck his fingers in at a fast pace. He swirls his tongue around your clit and flicks it repeatedly until he has you squirming from the rapid pleasure building.
“Kook,” you moan, “fuck–hold on,” you try to push his head away but he tightens his grip on you and moves his fingers faster at godspeed. “Jungkook,” you moaned loudly and arch your back.
He pulls away from your cunt and pants heavily, “Go on, cum for me.” He licks his lips, “Get ‘em nice and wet for me.” He smirks with hazy eyes, emerging from under your dress but keeping up that rapid pace.
Your lips form a small ‘o’ and your pussy flutters around his fingers, “Oh fuck..!” You cry out and reach for the sheets, grabbing and twisting at them as you thrash around. “Mmm..! Mm,” you throw your head back and gasp as your orgasm finally hits hard.
“There you go baby, that’s it.” He leans down to capture your lips in a smooth and slow kiss, “Did so good for me.” He purrs against your lips watching as you tiredly moaned and slumped against the bed, “C’mere mama,” he helped you sit up, “need your mouth on my cock.” He shoves his boxers down enough to let his cock spring out.
It slaps against his stomach with a lewd noise, making you bite your lip in desire. “Get it wet for me,” Jungkook strokes his cock with a low sigh as he slaps the tip against your lips repeatedly, “c’mon sweetheart.” He guides your head forward towards his cock with a hitched breath.
You part your lips and wrap them around the weeping tip hearing him curse under his breath. His hand tangles in your hair and bites down on his lip, “There you go baby, look so fuckin’ sexy with my cock in your mouth.” He guides your head back and forth, hissing quietly when you gently scrape your teeth around the shaft.
Jungkook moans low when your tongue runs over a sensitive vein along his cock. You give him a harsh suck slowly pulling off his cock with a wet pop, it slaps against your lips and you smirk up at him, “Like that?”
“Just like that.” He repeats and gently pushes you back, “Open ‘em.” He pats your thighs, “We got an hour left before we gotta go.” He murmurs, “and I don’t plan on letting you walk outta here without a fuckin’.” He’s so vulgar it literally annoys you how much it turns you on when he talks like that about you.
You bite your lip and hoist your legs around his waist, reaching down to replace his hand on his cock as you press the bulbous head against your pussy, rubbing up and down while smearing your slick around. Jungkook watches you with hooded eyes as he holds himself up over you, “Go on baby, slip me right in your little pussy.”
His cock throbs in your hand and you take pity on him, letting the tip slip right in through the mess he created of you earlier. Your lips part as you guide him inch for inch until he’s bottomed out inside your pussy, balls deep and hips pressed against yours. Jungkook moans quietly and tests the waters by pressing in deeply, he rocks his hips slowly just enjoying the feeling of your soft pussy wrapped around his cock.
“Fuck me,” you sigh out and relax, this is exactly what you were craving for, you never wanted the feeling to end.
“I am baby.” Jungkook grins and pushes up into you once more, “Pussy feels so fuckin’ snug around me, ‘s all soaked for me too, bet you don’t get this wet for anyone else.” He grinds in deeply, hips circling slowly as his cock bumps into your sensitive spots and has you seeing stars for a moment.
You let out a long whimper and shut your eyes, “Oh fuck, right there Kook,” you whisper, “fuck, fuck, fuck me please.” You whine lowly and reach down to shove your dress up higher around your hips, “Need it so bad.”
“Need what baby?” Jungkook leaves tiny kisses down the side of your neck and shoulders, “C’mon, wanna hear you say it. Let me hear that filthy mouth of yours, I know how fuckin’ nasty you can get.” He whispers in your ear, hips grinding in that one spot you oh so love.
You shudder in pleasure and moan uncontrollably, “Mm right there–fuck, oh fuck, harder baby..” You whimper out, eyes shutting and thighs trembling once again. Jungkook thankfully doesn’t stall any longer, he re-adjusts his grip by sliding his hands under your ass and gripping both cheeks before he begins plowing into you.
He drives his cock deeper, his hips slap against your ass with loud smacking noises ringing throughout the bedroom. You lay there moaning unabashedly as he fucks the ever living shit out of you in broad daylight. Jungkook moans and pants softly in your ear, whispering a bunch of utter filth that only makes your pussy squeeze his cock and weep around him.
“You like that don’t you baby. Always been such a little slut for me, ain’t that right? This pussy belongs to me?” He growls in your ear and suddenly pins you to the bed with his hand wrapped around your throat, “You think you can just run off with someone else baby? Oh not afuckin’ chance, because at the end of the day you’ll always come running back to daddy won’t you?” He snaps his hips upward punishingly, striking your g-spot over and over again.
You cry out weakly and wildly buck your hips, the question flies right past you and you almost forget he even said anything from how good it felt. Jungkook doesn’t take too kindly and smacks your cheek a couple of times to get your attention as he asks you the question all over again, “Mmm–yeah,” you breathe out all high and soft, “only yours daddy.”
Jungkook rumbles quietly in satisfaction before he lets you go and sits up on his haunches, he grabs your waist and uses it as leverage, he begins slamming himself in and out of your poor abused cunt. You almost cry from how good it feels, your moans are choked up and some come out as pitiful little whimpers.
“Daddy–” You throw your head back and brace your hand against the sheets. The force of his thrusts is enough to send you shifting up against the mattress, there’s loud creaking noises to accompany the skin slapping skin. It just sounds like filthy fucking at this point.
Jungkook bites his lip and moans under his breath as his eyes lock on your bouncing tits, he digs his fingers into your waist and grips you so tight you know you’re going to bruise. He throws his head back with a long satisfied moan, “Oh fuck,” he rolls his hips quickly, “you’re gonna fucking make me cum baby.” He whispers breathily.
You squeeze around him with purpose, “Cum,” you whine, “inside.”
Jungkook doesn’t reply, not at least verbally, he lets out a series of lewd moans and whispers of promises. He smacks his hips into yours and reaches between you two to thumb at your clit, rubbing the bud in tight fast circles. Your orgasm comes as a surprise, feeling like eternity as you sob in pleasure and plead for more.
“Fuck..!” Jungkook groans loud and long. His cock throbs and he slams three more times before pressing himself balls deep as he fills you with his cum. “Shit..” He laughs breathlessly and runs a hand through his messy hair, “That was a good one..” He mutters with a slap to your ass as he collapses next to you.
You pant softly and turn to the alarm clock on the nightstand, “Thirty minutes.” You sigh and roll out of bed, “Get up we’re leaving.” You say while wobbling to the bathroom to freshen the hell up, “I mean it Jungkook don’t you dare make us late.” You call out from the bathroom.
Jungkook hums, “Let a man rest sweetheart, you practically drained my balls.” He replies with a sigh, “Probably made another kid just now.” He smirks to himself as he closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head.
“Seriously sometimes I wonder how old you really are.” You shake your head as you stand in the doorway observing his relaxed form, “And I wonder why I even let you back in either. You’re not useful for anything.”
He cracks one eye open at you and smirks, “Admit it, you love my cock too much to cut me off baby, you can’t deny I don’t rock your entire world. Without me who’s gonna fuck you till you’re seeing stars?” He sits up and ignores the fact that his limp cock lays out in the open coated in slick and cum. “Does my baby need another round?” He opens his arms with a mock pout.
“Get the hell out we’re going to be late you fucking asshole.” You grit your teeth and storm off to find your shoes you were planning on wearing to the recital.
“Ay-ay captain.” Jungkook chuckles.
+
“Mama, mama! Did you see me up there?” Jiho comes running over with pure excitement in his eyes as he hugs your legs and looks up at you with those little doe eyes of his that you oh so love (not so much on the father..).
“Of course baby, you did so good up there my little man is a star.” You coo back and squat down to his level, “A little birdie told me that we should go get some pizza and ice cream at the park. How does that sound to you my love?” You gently cradle his cheek and caress it lovingly.
Jiho’s eyes lighten up at the mention of all those things, but what really breaks your heart is the noise he makes when he finally sees Jungkook behind you. “Daddy you came?!” Jiho runs over to hug him tightly, “Did you see me? Did you see me?” He excitedly jumps.
Jungkook softens and leans down to pick Jiho up with ease, “Course I saw champ you killed it, hell I think you even did better than that Sunhye girl.” He smirks as Jiho giggles uncontrollably, “What’s so funny huh?” He coos tickling his son on the side teasingly.
“Daddy just said a curse word.” Jiho covers his mouth shyly and looks at you. Your heart melts and you reach over to gently squeeze his chubby little cheek.
“Did he now baby? But remember what mommy said? Mommy doesn’t want you to end up like daddy love.” You side eye Jungkook with a nasty little glare before going back to Jiho with a soft smile, “C’mon, daddy said he’s taking you out today.” You kiss his cheek.
Jiho lights up in excitement, “Really daddy?!” He throws his arms around Jungkook’s neck and kicks his legs excitedly, “I can’t wait! I’m going to show you my new car collection daddy, it’s so cool I barely got it last week when mama and I went to the store.” He rambles on and on before he pauses, “You are coming over…right?” He quietly asks.
Jungkook nods, “Of course,” he says immediately, “you know I will champ.” He softly smiles and presses a kiss to his temple, “Daddy will always come over when you want.” This seems to satiate Jiho who goes back to his cheerful little rambles. It shouldn’t hurt you but this time it does, and you hate the bitter feeling it leaves in your mouth.
.
The day passes by and night time soon falls, Jiho of course asks Jungkook to put him to bed after hours of playing together. It warms your heart to see Jiho this happy with Jungkook, you wish it stayed like that..
“Hey babe,” Jungkook passes by behind you with a sneaky ass grab as he opens the fridge, “finally put Jiho down, little guy was out like a light.” He chuckles under his breath fondly.
You smile softly, “That’s my favorite part of the day, listening to him talk about the things he did and the new stuff he learns.. I wouldn’t miss it.” You turn the sink off and dry your hands, “Are you staying the night?” You raise a brow.
Jungkook nods, “Eh, I figured why the hell not. I don’t have anything to do tomorrow anyways.” He says and pops open a beer, “Plus I get to spend the night with my babies.” He winks at you.
You roll your eyes, “Of course.. Don’t you dare make a mess in my kitchen Jungkook.” You warn and walk off to the living room intending to watch some TV before bed. Jungkook trails after you like a lost puppy and you suppress a sigh, “What is it now?”
“Is it a crime to wanna be with you sweetheart? I’m sure you’d love some company right now.” Jungkook huffs and sits next to you on the couch with his arm thrown over your shoulders, “Aw c’mon sweetheart, don’t give me that look. Not after what went down this afternoon.” He buries his face in your shoulder and kisses it gently.
You sink into his arms and shoot him a glare, “Only reason I don’t kick you out is because Jiho’s gonna want to see you in the morning. If it were up to me your ass would be on the curb.” You grumble and pick up the remote, “And stop getting so close to me your breath stinks like beer.” You push his face away.
Jungkook’s shoulders shake as he laughs (obnoxiously in your opinion), “Fine, only cause you said so.” He says and gets up to head back into the kitchen. He re-emerges empty handed and in his wife beater tank top, his sweater is ditched and tossed to the side. “Better for you?” He holds his arms out.
“Yeah.” You turn back to the TV, “Now be quiet I’m trying to watch this.” You mumble.
Jungkook silently slips onto the couch right up beside you again. He slips his arm around and tugs you to his side with a quiet grunt. You grumble quietly and turn to face him as you push him back onto the couch and climb on top of him, “This is better..” You mutter softly and lay your head on his chest.
You don’t miss the way he smiles at you and hugs you closer, “Good night.” He says, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. He hears a faint ‘night’ and with that he lets his eyes slip shut as he falls asleep with a dumb little smile on his face.
“Idiot..” You whisper softly, surprised at how fond you sound at the moment, but he doesn’t have to know that.
+
A few days later you’re gone for work and Jungkook comes over to take care of Jiho. At first nothing too big happens, they play some games and then have breakfast before Jungkook takes Jiho out to the mall and then they come back to have lunch. Right now however Jiho was napping leaving Jungkook all by himself.
He takes one last look at Jiho before he slips outside for a needed smoke session. Jungkook always did like the view from your balcony, it gave him like a sense of peace and security whenever he sat out there smoking a cigarette. He really did feel at ease. He spends a couple minutes looking out at the sunset and city and then he checks his phone right after when he gets bored of that.
Jungkook’s in the middle of texting back Namjoon when he hears the doorbell ring. He frowns in confusion and looks back, you didn’t say anything about having anyone over or anything being delivered. He tucks the cigarette between his lips and makes his way over to the front door.
“y/n, hey! I was wondering if–” some guy standing on the other side of the door starts but quickly stops when he sees Jungkook standing in the doorway instead of y/n.
“Can I help you?” Jungkook leans against the doorway and eyes the guy up and down, “You lost or somethin’ kid?”
“Huh? Who are you? I’ve never seen you around before and y/n’s never talked about a guy before..” He trails off, eyeing Jungkook up and down too but only this time he doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for him. Jungkook’s aware of how he looks right now, and damn if he doesn’t look good.
“I’m y/n’s baby daddy, now who the fuck are you?” Jungkook snorts and takes a long drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke in the dude’s face.
The dude looks at him with a glare, “I’m her friend and neighbor.”
“Neighbor huh, good then you don’t need to be around then. I don’t take too kindly to random ass men trying to hit on my girl like that, because we both know you see her more than a neighbor so do me a favor and turn your ass back around unless you wanna really get to know me.” Jungkook flicks the ashes at him, “Nice meeting ya.” He grins and slams the door in his face.
“Friend huh..” Jungkook chuckles.
It’s late when you finally arrive home, you make a quick stop to get the mail before heading up when you’re stopped by Hyunjin, your adorable but annoying neighbor, “Heyy, what’s up why you out so late?” You smile tiredly while sorting your mail out.
Hyunjin looks bothered as he looks off to the side, “Nothing, just needed some fresh air you know? Anyways that’s not what I’m here for, I didn’t know you were seeing someone?” He says softly and when he sees your confused face he continues, “That guy up there? The one with tattoos and shit? He’s rude as hell.”
You internally groan, what did he do now.. “Yeah? Well, I’m not seeing him–seeing him…technically..” You trail off before sighing in defeat, “He’s my baby daddy.”
“Ohh, I thought he was lying or something because I thought no way would you ever go with someone like him. Much less have a kid with him.” He shakes his head, “He’s seriously a bad influence though, he literally was smoking in the house like you know how bad that can be for Jiho?” Hyunjin scoffs and shakes his head, “The nerve of him to call himself a parent.”
“Listen kid, whatever the fuck he does is very much his and my business. I don’t need your two pennies of a fucking opinion on my baby daddy, yeah, that’s my child’s father and what about it? I must have seen something in him if I still went and fucked him and had his kid. So don’t you ever speak on him again unless you want me to call him downstairs you little shit.” You glare and storm off to the elevators leaving a shocked Hyunjin in the back.
“Fuckin’ nerve of this brat.” You mutter and get your keys out, “Seriously.”
You walk into the apartment and are immediately greeted with Jungkook sitting there with a pissed expression. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You ask as you kick your heels off, “Where’s Jiho?”
“He’s sleeping, had dinner and went to bed.” Jungkook stands up and makes his way over to you slowly, “Who the fuck was that kid that came knocking earlier?” He cups your chin and tilts your head to face him, “He the one you fucking or what?” He grits his teeth.
You stare back at him annoyed, “He’s some dumb ass college kid Jungkook, and no I’m not fucking him. As if..” You mutter the last part and walk to the bedroom, “If you’re just gonna bitch about him sleep on the couch I beg, I’m so fucking tired from work I just wanna sleep okay? Bitch at me another time.” You sigh.
Jungkook kicks the door shut behind him and comes up behind you to hug you, “Mm.. Just wanna help my lil’ mama relax is all,” he says in your ear, “I already knew you two weren’t fucking anyways, he makes it so obvious.” Jungkook smirks as he kisses your shoulder, reaching around the front to unbutton your blouse, “Still he fuckin’ pissed me off.” He growls.
“I know, trust me.” You smirk softly and turn around in his hold and wrap your arms around his neck, “You’ll help me relax won’t you?” You whisper against his lips.
“I’ll do more than that baby.” Jungkook grins back.
.
Jungkook has you spread out for him on all fours, back arched sensually and your face buried in your pillows. Sweat glistens on his forehead as he moans under his breath whilst moving his hips leisurely, not in any rush whatsoever. Your moans are muffled but the sounds your pussy makes make up for it.
“Fucking shit, you look so goddamn perfect for me all bent over with that pretty ass of yours bouncing on my cock.” Jungkook grunts as he slides his hands down to your waist to steady you.
“Jungkook,” you whimper out as you lift your head from the pillow, “need it faster.” You push back on his cock and gasp shakily when he hits something inside of you, “Oh fuck baby right there,” you whimper out, “mm, mm.”
He moans in response and lands a heavy smack on your ass, “Yeah? You like it when I hit it right there baby? ‘S got you creamin’ all over my cock right now.” He gasps softly as he speeds up and fucks into your harder.
You eyes flutter shut and you stick a hand down between your thighs to rub at your clit in tiny circles, “I love it,” you sigh out, “feels so good.” Jungkook spanks you again and it causes you to moan loud over the noises of his balls slapping against your clit and your ass bouncing off his pelvis. “Fuck..!”
Jungkook sees your phone light up from the corner of his eye and he peers over, he sees it’s that fucking kid from earlier texting you shit about how he’s sorry. Oh Jungkook’s gonna make him sorry now.. He grabs your phone and unlocks it, immediately opening up your camera and recording, “C’mon baby, put on a show for me.” He purrs out, making sure his tattooed hand is in the frame resting right over your bouncing ass.
You moan louder and lift yourself up enough to stabilize yourself before you start fucking yourself on his cock just how he likes it. “There you go, atta girl.” Jungkook lands repeated hits on your red ass cheek, licking his lips when he sees his hand print linger. “Whose pussy this belong to baby? Hm?”
“You,” a tiny whimper follows, “ ‘s your pussy baby.” You moan back as you rub your clit faster, “Fuck right there,” you push back and circle your hips on his cock like you’re trying to spell coconut. He moans loud as your pussy massages his cock just right, he nearly forgets he’s recording in the first place.
Jungkook ends the video there with a middle finger towards the end before he sends it to Hyunjin and tosses your phone aside, “C’mere.” He growls out and grabs your hips before he starts fucking into you harder and faster.
The headboard slams into the wall repeatedly, the sound of skin slapping grows louder and your moans are borderline screams now. You shudder violently and fall onto the bed face first as your pussy squirts, you lay there twitching and shaking as you come down from your orgasm slowly. Jungkook’s lips fall open in a silent moan as he watches in satisfaction.
He cums a few minutes later, pressing in deep as he groans lowly, “Damn I almost said I love you.” He breathlessly says. You reach behind to smack his arm making him laugh, “What? It’s true.” He shakes with laughter, “Aaaa you’re so cute baby.” Jungkook wipes the sweat off his brow and pulls out slowly, “Damn.” He murmurs, laying down next to you, “You okay?” He pokes your side.
You tiredly roll over and stare at him with a goofy little smile, “I almost said I love you too.” You softly reply.
Jungkook smiles, “y/n…my love, mother of my child,” he begins, “I’m sorry, but can you make me something to eat? You sucked the life out of me and now I’m starving.”
“I fucking take it back you dipshit.” You glare and roll out of bed, “.....What do you want..” You ask after shuffling around the room getting dressed in your robe.
“Ramen? Please and thank you.” Jungkook gives you that little bunny smile that made you fall in love all those years back. Maybe you’re falling all over again…
TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
@Satosugu . . . ( ´ ꒳ ` )
Tags: idols!satosugu, f!reader, very very cliché wattpad 2018 plot, fan!reader, satosugu x reader, fluff, no curse au, cursing, use of petnames, mentions of stalking, clingy Satoru, kind of ooc (?), reader is 18 n the guys are 19, reader is shorter than both of them, NOT A SATOSUGU SHIP POST
A/N: Thinking about Geto Suguru & Gojo Satoru and those kpop fics I saw everywhere on Wattpad during 2018. I made it less (?) cringe. This is just for fun anyways, I still eat up the most cliché shit. I just love love love them. Pt.2 is out now frfr!!
Kaisen - JJK Entertainment ☆
- Gojo Satoru
- Geto Suguru
idol!satoru who you literally bump into on a cold winter’s night in Japan. He has this cheeky grin on his face as he saw your shocked expression. “Hey princess!” He teasingly says. You thought that he looked kind of familiar but you weren’t really paying much attention, you were too caught up trying to escape the guy who has been following you.
idol!suguru who almost immediately noticed the man all dressed in black who seemed to be keeping a close eye on you while also maintaining a distance. Suguru observed the man as you and Satoru conversed.
idol!satoru who’s fond of the way you look up at him before apologizing, as if your brain buffered for a second. “Like what you see princess?” Satoru teased. You snap back into reality and turn red, you then started to apologize profusely. “I’m– I’m sorry for staring and bumping into you, I really didn’t mean it!!”
idol!suguru who then whispers something to Satoru. He decided to take matters into their own hands. It was obvious that the man was someone you were trying to get away from and the man was obviously intimidated by Suguru and Satoru.
Before you knew it Satoru went to your side and interwined his fingers with yours. “Just follow our lead princess. We won’t hurt ‘ya, I promise.” He then began to lead you somewhere while Suguru walked right behind you.
You then start to notice some people taking pictures of you and the two random men you just met a minute ago. Suguru then went to your side to make sure you weren’t captured by any more pictures. Although, the constant camera clicks did make you curious. You looked up to catch a glimpse of Suguru and Satoru’s face. It was at that moment you realized that these two weren’t just random men—they were world-famous idols.
idol!satoru who caught you trying to sneak a peek at the both of them. Your blush didn’t go unnoticed as you realized who they were. He chuckles but chose to let it slide. Trust me, he really, really wanted to tease you, but he figured that Suguru and him should take you somewhere safe first.
idols!satosugu who brought you to their hotel room. Suguru tries to make you feel comfortable. He makes small talk as you sat beside him on the couch, asking you about your name, likes and dislikes, what you did today. You were still in shock, you couldn’t believe you were in the hotel room of your favorite idols. Although you weren’t as much of a fan as everyone else, you couldn’t deny how handsome they were.
Suguru also made sure to tell you that the man who was following you couldn’t follow you inside the hotel. Their security here was great and he wanted to reassure you that you were in good hands.
idol!satoru who wants to keep you with him forever. He’s now saying things like, “Oh princess! I wish I could keep you in my pocket and bring you back to Korea!” His words make you blush hard. But Satoru’s words made Suguru sigh, he didn’t want you to think they were like your stalker.
Turns out they planned a semi-secret trip to their hometown. They didn’t tell the world they were going there, but they weren’t exactly hiding it. You were grateful yet utterly confused. Why would they help you out of nowhere?
idol!suguru who insists on walking you home but then they get mass texts from their manager in JJK Entertainment;
manager
Didn’t I tell the both of you to not get into trouble??
Check your socials, you and Satoru were found with some girl.
I swear to god Suguru, this is a PR disaster. We’ll pick you up as soon as possible. For now, don’t go out of your hotel room.
19:27
Suguru sighed as he saw the text messages, he knew they fucked up. “Okay, never mind, we can’t walk you home. Our manager got intel that the press is looking for us in the lobby—the three of us. They saw you in the pictures and now they want to know who you are.” Suguru got on one knee in front of you so that he would be at eye-level. He took both your hands in his and said, “I’m sorry.”
idol!satoru who immediately realizes that means you have to stay with them. “So that means you have to stay with us princess!” He happily states, “But– but maybe the pictures aren’t clear enough! I could sneak past the press and–” you were cut off by your own self as your gaze fell on Suguru, still on his knee holding both your hands.
idol!suguru who sweet-talks you into staying with them. “We’d feel much better if we know you’re safe here with us. Some fans can get crazy y’know.” Suguru spoke as he looked into your eyes. He really wanted to give off that yearning vibe. Which again begs the question, why were they so keen on helping you?
“Okay.. I’ll stay..” you hesitantly replied.
idol!satoru who then steals you from Suguru by hugging you tightly. “Great choice princess!” He was so happy, it was contagious. The both of them didn’t even mention being idols they just talked about their manager as if they had normal jobs. That was until Satoru decided to be cocky about it, “Y’know princess, most fans would’ve said yes immediately! Are you perhaps not a fan? Or even—a hater?!” He said dramatically.
idol!suguru who has a scowl on his face because Satoru stole you and because of Satoru’s question. “That’s none of our business Satoru.” He scolded his friend. Satoru only laughed in return.
idol!satoru who speaks in the most dramatic way possible. “But we’re world-famous idols Suguru! Surely this cute little princess is one of our fans, right princess?”
Gojo Satoru—the Gojo Satoru looked at you confidently as he waited for your answer. It made you a bit nervous, “I– I am a fan! I just didn’t want to be a bother..” you replied. “Plus you can never be too sure about people, I can’t just trust you because you’re idols!” You then sighed at the irony of that statement, “but I did because there was no other choice.”
idols!satosugu who listened to you speak attentively. They were very touchy and loved being close to you. It’s like they lacked physical affection. Suguru in front of you and Satoru beside you, such a cute duo.
idol!satoru who is the whiniest man ever. “So you think we’re bad people? I thought you were better than that princess..” he pouted. “No I don’t! I’m just saying you can’t trust too easily!” Satoru only laughed as you tried to defend yourself. He hummed, sarcastically agreeing to your words as you finished.
“Okay princess, whatever you say.” He mocked as he pulled you onto his lap, embracing you by the waist.
idol!suguru who tries to keep his best friend tamed. “You’re too touchy with her Satoru.” To which Satoru replies with a pout. “But she likes it!” He whines, “don’t you princess?” You turn red at his words. Suguru only sighs, he holds your hand, hoping you aren’t done with them. He just wants to help you.
idol!satoru who knows no personal space and props his chin on your shoulder as he continued to hug your waist from behind.
idol!suguru who rested his head on your lap, tired. At this point he didn’t bother telling Satoru off. He was just reduced to a big sleepy man.
idols!satosugu who were now all over you, both derived of physical affection. You couldn’t escape the idols now.
Comment 🪩 to be on my taglist !
#jjk#gojo x reader#geto x reader#satoru x reader#suguru x reader#satosugu x reader#geto suguru x reader#gojo satoru x reader#suguru geto x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo#geto#suguru geto#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#geto suguru#idol au#no curse au#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu#kaisen#jjk x reader#kpop#kpop idol#satosugu#tojifile
474 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧
summary — you and remus lupin have become really good at stealing each other away from parties.
or but if you're too drunk to drive and the music is right, she might let you stay but just for the night....she might want a kiss before the end of this song.
warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, modern!au, friends to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mutual pining, oblivious!reader, oblivious!remus, drunk!reader, drunk!remus, alcohol consumption
note — this is inspired by lovers rock by tv girl!!! i think this is the longest thing i've ever written. I do very much like it as of right now. that'll probably change in a week.
word count — 12.4k
“Thank Godric, you’re here,” Mary groans from her position on the front porch, Marlene leaning into her side. Both are clearly enjoying a cigarette away from the din of the party. You can tell what type of night it’s going to be already. Not that you’ve arrived two hours late anyway.
“I’ve never seen you so happy to see me, Mary,” you giggle, crossing the threshold of Sirius’s front lawn, careful not to trip on his collection of stolen garden gnomes.
“I’m always happy to see you, lovely.” She extends her hand, the cigarette between her lovely red nails on offer.
“You know who’s going to be even happier?” Marlene coughs, as you take the smoke thankfully, taking a few calming puffs.
You pretend like you have any idea who she’s referring to, “Jamie? Haven’t seen him in a while. Miss that boy,” you laugh, voice strained through the thick smoke you exhale.
“No, you idiot.” Mary pipes up and you hand the smoke back, “Remus. He hasn’t shut up about you all night.”
“That’s if he’s sober enough to even notice you’re here,” Marlene laughs and so does Mary. You smile, small enough to not show how happy you actually are that you get to see him. It’s been too long.
“He’s drinking?”
“Absolutely hammered. We were hoping you’d get here earlier so he wouldn’t drink too much. Please go look after him.” Mary throws her arm around Marlene and she snuggles in closer. They both look content enough to fall asleep right there in the cool summer breeze.
“I’m sure he’s doing okay.”
“I’m sure he will be when you get inside.”
You move to toe your shoes off at the front mat, kicking them away so they’re not a tripping hazard.
“When has Sirius ever done that at your house, Y/N?” Mary laughs, looking down at your socked feet
“Oh, no. This is for me. Don’t want to get my shoes dirty.” You laugh when you grab the handle of the flyscreen, swinging the door open.
The girls’ laughter becomes a distant murmur when you enter the kitchen, met with mostly everyone sitting around the dining table. A deal of cards in everyone’s hands, and piles of coins and sweets sat in the middle.
James and Lily laughing and glowing under the downcast of the orange lighting, appearing to seemingly be winning. Sirius and Frank having their own side bets, throwing coins around before both calling tails. Then, there's Remus. You try to ignore the hitch in your breath when your eyes land on the sandy-haired boy.
He really does look drunk, eyes droopy but still bright when he hiccups a laugh at something James says. A quiet, airy chuckle that has his mouth creasing and eyelashes kissing his cheeks. A smile so pretty, you have to fight your own.
His head is propped up on the table by an elbow that looks like it’s about to slip off the edge, so you sneak up behind him and place your hand against his arm to stop him from falling face-first into the wood.
He looks up at you, a little startled for a second, and you can see the moment it clicks in his head when he realises who he’s looking at. He smiles, all surprised but content and you melt. The last time you had seen him was only for the third time ever at another one of Sirius’s parties. You hate to admit that the only thing you look forward to now is when you receive an invite from your workmate and you have another excuse to see his lanky best friend.
“Y/N! When did you get here?” Sirius chants, flicking his last remaining coin at Frank. He shoots him a well-deserved glare.
“About thirty seconds ago,” you smile.
Sirius looks down at your socked feet and frowns, “You took your shoes off again. How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to do that.”
You roll your eyes, “You’re gross, Sirius.”
Remus looks down too, the top of his head pressing into your side, a crush of his curls tickling the bare skin of your arm and you almost shiver. “Cool socks.” Is the first thing he says to you. You giggle.
They’re a dark cornflower shade, moons scattered across the material at random. They crease when you wriggle your toes, “Thanks. Got them from mum for my birthday.”
“She has good taste.” He moves off of you, slouching down in his chair until his knees are pressing Lily’s legs.
His head lolls backwards, neck bared under the warm light. You think you feel dizzier than he does. Even when he squeezes his eyes shut.
“What have you done to him?” you laugh, hand flat against his forehead to brush away his loose hair. He keens, sighing deeply under a hiccup.
“He’s very awful at poker,” James laughs, flicking a pastille across the table. You look at his high pile, and then Sirius and Franks’ which are almost of equal height. Then you look in front of Remus, the table almost bare. You laugh.
“We like to play a little differently,” Franks states over the rim of his bottle.
“Basically, you take a shot every time you lose,” James says, sober as ever. You think maybe he hasn’t lost yet.
“And Remus has lost every hand,” Sirius adds to the chime of details.
“Have not!” Remus finally pipes up, finger pointed at James instead of Sirius, too distracted staring at the ceiling. “Frank lost the first.”
“Anyways, Moons. You just lost and I think you owe us another.”
Remus groans, but sits up to reach for the bottle of Sambuca sitting in the middle of the table. You gently swat his hand and push him back into his chair.
“I think you’ve had enough,” you say, turning to place the bottle on the kitchen bench, along with the empty bottles.
“C’mon, one more,” Remus giggles, making hands for the bottle in the air. A child, you think.
“Yeah, Y/N! One more!” Sirius agrees, smiling boyishly.
“You’ll make yourself sick,” you chide with a small frown. Remus slumps against you, much defeated. He might fall asleep on you if you stand there any longer. You poke his cheek where it’s pressed into your clothes.
“He already is sick.” Sirius is smug when he speaks and you fret about what else he’s about to say, “Sick in love.”
You laugh. Could’ve been worse. But it still has your heart skipping in your chest. You really do hope Remus shares the feelings you hold for him. But then again, Remus is drunk and Sirius, is well, he’s Sirius. Despite the name, he hardly ever is.
“Boo. Awful.” You frown in faux offence, ignoring him when he winks at you. Sickening, really.
You lean down so your mouth is in line with Remus’s ear, “You wanna go lay down?” You realise you’re in quite a predicament. Coming over to parties to see Sirius’s best friend. Looking after him when he’s drunk. You’d hoped he would do the same.
“Please, no sex in my house,” Sirius states, standing to grab another drink. James guffaws.
You roll your eyes, “He’s drunk.”
“So, you do want to have sex with him?” he adds.
You almost choke on your tongue, “No, it’s just. He- Stop it.” You have to stop yourself from saying something wrong. It wasn’t a lie, you did want to. But you wanted much more than that.
“Leave her alone,” Remus chides, leaning back off your stomach. “You’ll scare her off and I’ll never see her again,”
He was right, his friends did intimidate you. But you’d hoped it would take more than not yet warming up to them to get you to never see Remus again.
Remus stands and you’re surprised he doesn’t stumble when he takes your hand to lead you away from the table and out into the lounge room. You poke your tongue out over your shoulder when you hear James make some sort of crude comment to Frank. Lily smiles warmly at you as an apology.
He sits down with all the gracefulness of a baby elephant and you have to bite back a laugh. He looks up at you, pretty eyes all droopy and a lopsided smile, and you feel like you’ll never come back from these feelings ever.
Before you can overly admire him for too long, he’s patting the space next to him with a floppy hand. “C’mon.”
You oblige probably too willingly, flopping yourself down next to him with a small oomph, your thigh pressing into his. He shuffles down the lounge to rest his head atop your shoulder, neck craned a little to reach it. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. His face is warm and it presses into your collarbone that’s peeking from out the top of your shirt. His light stubble tickles your skin and it’s weirdly soothing. God, you know you’re in deep.
“You smell good.”
You breathe in subconsciously, “You do, too.”
Under the strong scent of stale beer and sambuca, you can think you can discern a hint of his cologne. Woody and something like cinnamon. Mixed in with the light scent of his laundry detergent, like fresh linen and lavender. He's dizzying.
“I smell like beer,” he groans, hand finding its way between both of your thighs, your skirt tangled in his fingers.
“You smell nice,” you laugh.
You watch the doorway where James gets up to turn the dial on the vinyl player. The current song now loud enough to be heard where you’re sitting.
Humming along, you say, “I love this song.”
Remus gawps, “Me too. S’my favourite, actually.”
Remus having the exact same favourite song as you makes your head spin. “No way.”
“Yes way.” he smiles. If he were soberer, you’d gush to him over this. It’d have to wait.
He shifts his head from your shoulder and startles for a moment, eyebrows raised, “I didn’t even ask if you wanted a drink.” You get whiplash from the change of subject.
You sigh, very amused at his intent to be nice to you, despite being half-cut, “I’m okay. I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight.”
He frowns, wrinkles his nose and you want to kiss it. God. “Why did you come, then?” The fact he thinks you came to get drunk and not just to see him makes you want to laugh.
The smile you’re still trying to fight every time he speaks makes your cheeks ache, “To see Sirius.”
He frowns even more and you think he wants to shift away from you. He roughly scratches at his face and you almost regret messing with him.
“Sirius?” He hiccups.
“I’m kidding.” You poke his bicep, “I came to see you.”
There’s a silence and then Remus is breaking out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen. You’d have the decency in you to blame it on being drunk. Nothing else.
“Me?” He hiccups, again. You place your hand atop his thigh and trace the thick seam of his pants.
“Yes, you.”
His smile dials back but doesn’t fade and his face relaxes. He leans down to place his head back against your shoulder, cheek all smooshed.
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Thank you.” he hums, hooking his elbow behind yours, completely squished against you. He thinks you must be cold in a skirt and a small T-shirt. “I like it when you’re here. You make it bearable.”
You want to accept his compliment, but when he hiccups for the third time, you remember he’s drunk. “That’s a bit mean, Remus. Will I tell your friends you can’t bear them?”
Remus stiffens and you stop rubbing his leg. Drunk Remus is very gullible. Sweet, but gullible all the same.
“Stop it. You know what I mean.” He pushes further into your shoulder and you feel yourself dip down against him, head almost falling against his. You wouldn’t mind if it did, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable, you assume.
“I don’t think I do,” you tease and Remus pinches your side, which results in a stifled yelp.
“Don’t be cruel.” He strains.
“I would never.”
When you shiver in your spot, Remus wonders what your answer would be if he offered you his jacket. He thinks he should test his theory.
“Are you cold?” he asks but doesn’t move his head from your shoulder.
“A little,” you yawn. Which then causes Remus to yawn. You laugh animatedly.
“Do you,” Remus blinks slowly, eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he attempts to keep his eyes open. “do you want my jacket?”
You’re glad Remus’ head is still propped on your shoulder lest he sees the blush creeping across your cheeks. Drunk Remus is gullible. But drunk Remus is still just as kind as he is when he’s sober.
“Then you’ll be cold,” you reply, giving his thigh a squeeze. You crane your neck to look at him. He looks tired.
“Better me than you.” He moves to take it off and before he can even get one arm out, you sit forward and place your hands on his chest. Fingers twisted in his cotton shirt, your turned knee pressing into his.
“Remus, I’m okay.” You give him your most reassuring smile. Being cold is no one’s fault but your own. You don’t want to be an annoyance.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Remus sits back, albeit begrudgingly, hands wrapped around the zipper of his jacket. The further he pushes back into the lounge, the more he looks like he’s about to fall asleep.
“Remus?” you murmur. Voice quiet under the din of the party. Sirius is a loud drunk, his laughter roaring at something stupid James is doing.
His head begins to dip into the edge of the cushion, headed for the arm of the chair. If he kept this up, he’d have a crick in his neck in no time.
He hums and you pat his cheek to encourage him to sit up. It’s bemusing how quickly he can drift off. You’re very envious. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.
“What’s up?” he murmurs in return, peeking from one eye, the other scrunched up. He’s adorable and you’re in too deep.
“You seem tired.” You poke his face this time and he beams, all warm and dozey under the mellow light of Sirius’s living room. A line of curls falling into his eyes and the apples of his cheeks a tinge of peach.
He hums again, much thicker than last. “M’not.”
You hold out your hand, all five fingers spread. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
He struggles, but pulls his hand from his lap and holds it up to yours, tangling your fingers. Palm flush against yours and much warmer in comparison. “Feels like five.” He pulls your entwined hands back down and you laugh.
You try not to shy from his actions, pretending like it doesn’t make your heart skip, and then almost stop completely when his thumb rubs circles into the top of your hand. You can feel the warmth seeping from his into your own and your fingertips tingle.
“Do you want to go home?” You twist so you’re completely on the edge of the lounge, hand still wrapped in his. You stop, “Or are you staying here tonight?”
He brings his arm up - with yours still tangled - and rubs his face with the back of his hand. Dragging you up and down. You giggle at his tired actions before pouting.
“I think.'' You can tell he’s trying to stay alert enough to hold a conversation with you.
When he wakes up in the morning he won’t remember being so tired here and will think you both had the best conversation. You’ll be okay with this. “I think Sirius was supposed to take me home, but he’s too drunk now.”
“You’ll sleep on the couch?” You frown and he blinks.
“I think I might have to.” He throws his head back and sighs. Strained and raspy.
You look at the size of Sirius’s two-seater and then Remus’s stupidly long legs. It wouldn’t work, and he’d end up with either a sore back or a worse-off neck than whatever it was he was doing right now. You don’t even really think before you say, “I can walk you home.”
Remus looks a little more alert, “You can’t sleep on this.” You prod the squeaky leather and it bounces back with absolutely no recoil. You’ll be sure to scold Sirius next time for having a horrendous couch, though enough money to buy everyone in the room ten of them. You know he won’t appreciate the exaggeration. But it’s for the sake of his friends’ backs.
“You don’t have to do that.” He sits up properly now and tries to situate himself to look convincingly comfortable. “I’ll make do.”
“It’s no big deal.” You shrug. “I’m walking home anyways.”
Now he’s sitting forward, his knees pushing into your leg and you almost stumble off the seat, grabbing his arm for purchase. “You just got here.” He almost frets and then coughs to hide his worry. He’s not very good at achieving a smooth, cool demeanour when half-cut. Not that he ever achieves it sober, he thinks.
“No, but I think you need to go home and sleep.” You look out into the kitchen that’s now surprisingly quieter. Lily looks like she’s about to fall asleep, leaning on James’s shoulder, who’s trying to play a horrible game of go fish with Sirius and Frank. Absolute party animals.
“I live too far away, anyways,” he says, leaning down to tie his shoelaces. “You’ll have to walk me home and then walk back, you’ll be walking for at least an hour and a half.” Why Remus is so afraid to suggest you can stay the night at his, he doesn’t know.
You squeeze his shoulder as he struggles to loop his lace through his fingers. He decides to go for the simpler, bunny-ear option. “That’s okay. You can stay at mine. I only live ten minutes away.”
When Remus sits back up after tying his laces too tight, his face is pink.
-
Remus Lupin has never been one for sitting comfortably, ever. With long, lanky limbs, he always has his legs sprawled out and his arms thrown over something. Anything he can take up comfortably, with enough space to spread, he’ll sit willingly.
On one hand, he’s thankful you convinced him not to sleep on Sirius’s couch. He didn’t need a repeat of New Year’s. Though, on the other hand, he could’ve made do.
Nothing was like sitting in your bedroom. He wouldn’t say he was uncomfortable, though deep down he was a little, a pit of anxiety creeping up his chest. He felt like he had little room to move - despite you owning a double bed - because he didn’t want to look stupid. He could take up space and not notice it.
Remus has trouble not taking in every detail he can in your room. Like your little trinket dishes filled with miscellaneous items, signet rings and seashells. The stuffed rhino toy in the middle of your pillows that you had told him - shyly at that - was named Clarence. Not before giggling at the poster of Twilight that you swore had been there since you were young. Your current read splayed open on the end of your bed, along with the stack of records in a blue milk crate in the corner, were things he promised himself he would ask you about when he wasn’t half tipsy and could hold a proper conversation.
In his admiration, one that was making his anxiety spread into warmth that seemed to be seeping from his bones. He’s too busy pretending like he isn’t taking in every small detail one shouldn’t when they’ve only known someone for only a month, and doesn’t notice that you’ve changed.
He looks over at you, in a pair of shorts littered with tiny daisies and a shirt that almost eats said shorts. Your hair pulled back and your face still sort of wet from where you obviously washed off the day's grime, causing the hairs around your face to curl. He doesn’t know if it’s the fading alcohol that’s causing him to hiccup even more, or if it’s seeing you all fresh and content from being at home that has his breath catching.
Remus Lupin is still a little drunk but he is also quite clearly growing to like you even more. That doesn’t change. He thinks he's done everything backwards. Meeting you, then seeing you now but too inebriated to say something redeeming, and then seeing you in the comfort of your own home before he even gets to ask you on a date. He also thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Remus?” Your voice is as calm as you look when you speak and he melts.
“Hm?” He blinks, shaking his head.
“You okay?” Warm light washes over you and paints you amber as you patter across the room, the moon socks that are still on your feet pressing into the white fabric of your rug. “You’re not feeling sick?” He thinks he should blame his daze on a fake sickness, but he doesn’t want you to worry even more, so he decides against it.
When you press the back of your hand to his cheek, that’s only warm because he’s a little overwhelmed, not because he’s feeling poorly, he can’t find it in himself to hold your gaze. “I’m okay.”
“I was saying I don’t think I have any clothes for you to change into.” You remind him after it felt like you were talking to a brick wall a minute earlier.
Remus pushes his hands into the rough material of his black jeans. He doesn’t see himself sleeping in anything else. “That’s okay.”
“You’re not going to sleep in those are you?”
What else would he sleep in if you have no other clothes? “Uh.”
“You wear boxers?” you grin.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He wishes he was still a little drunker so he could blame his bumbling words on the effects of downing half a bottle of sambuca. Now he’s realising that’s just how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed by you.
“Sleep in those. I don’t mind.”
Your confidence, and your confidence only, is how he ends up pantless and under the covers of your bed. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You have a lovely way of making him feel at ease. He thinks that’s why he likes you so much.
You smell different than earlier in the night when your shirt tickles his arm. Like fresh face wash and night creams, and maybe even roses. He’d hate to think of what he smelt like in comparison to you. Probably still like beer, and maybe like sweat. He should’ve asked if he could’ve showered. That might’ve been too much, he’s definitely overthinking.
“You’re very quiet,” you say into the dimness of your room. He’s lucky your bedside lamp is so muted, lest you see the goosebumps raised over his skin and how his cheeks haven’t returned to their normal colour since he crossed the threshold of your room.
“M’thinking,” he returns, just as quiet. It feels wrong to disturb the calmness blanketing the room.
“I can tell.” He can hear you grin, “What about?”
He swallows and he wouldn’t be surprised if you heard it, “You.”
You huff a small laugh and push down into the pillow behind you, “Me?” Your voice is a little strained, and not louder than before. Maybe even quieter.
“Yeah. Thinking about the next time I’ll get to see you.”
“You haven’t even left yet and you’re thinking ahead to the next time we’ll see each other,” you tease, getting comfortable underneath your plush quilt and sheets. Probably too much for a summer night but there’s still a chill in the air, flowing through your open window.
“I’m just hoping I won’t be so drunk,” he admits, hating how he still actually does sound drunk.
“Hopefully,” you smile, “But that’s okay, we can blame it on James.”
“If only I wasn’t so shit at poker,” he laughs in a strained and animated voice, trying to hold back a yawn.
He finally gets comfortable, hands fisting the sheets around his body and head balancing restfully against the plush of your ivory pillows.
You can see his eyes flutter in an attempt to stay awake. You think it’s endearing but you also think he needs to sleep. “Remus,” you say, firm but caring at once.
“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyebrows pinched.
“You should sleep.” You push itchy locks away from his forehead and he sighs at the caring touch of your fingers.
“Don’t wanna.” He scrunches his nose, “I think I’m finally sobering up. Wanna talk t’you.”
You smile at his absolute urgency and think he’s adorable. Truly. “Please, sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“You’ll be here?” This, you actually laugh at.
“Of course, Remus. You’re in my room.”
He closes his eyes, eyelashes kissing the freckles of his cheeks and his tired, darkened skin, “M’kay.”
When you wake up in the morning, almost midday, Remus plagued by the effects of alcohol, you too content to wake whilst being next to him, you both have separate texts from Sirius.
Your own chat log reads, aren’t U glad you came out? You don’t reply, not wanting to encourage him in any way.
Remus’s phone, on the other hand, reads,
uncle pads has a ring to it don’t you think? xxxx
He does in fact reply, too used to Sirius being a twat.
Nothing happened. Ur disgusting and I hate you.
what do U mean nothing happened?
I was drunk. She helped me basically stumble home.
U both stumbled. in her sheets.
Fuck off. Idiot.
Neither of you mention any of Sirius’s messages to each other the entire morning. Too busy enjoying each other's company.
-
The week spent after Remus had drunkenly stayed the night, you could pleasantly, though maybe even with a smidge of embarrassment, admit that he was all you thought about since.
It was a new feeling. You’d never felt it before. The endearment, but also the nerves, of realising you actually like someone. Some days it made your cheeks ache from smiling, and filled your chest with warmth. On other days, the warmth cracked your chest open, an aching chasm pleading to be filled and a head clouded with apprehension.
You were eager and scared all at once. But you were happy either way because Remus made you feel things. Good things.
You had spent the morning, forcing him to eat something, telling him it would make his hangover feel much better. He’d argued for no longer than two minutes before agreeing. Saying, who am I to argue with a girl like you?
“Like me?” you’d replied, mouth full of half-eaten pancake, pushing his own plate across the marble of your kitchen bar.
“Smart,” he smiled, picking at a blueberry, “Pretty.”
And after it was your turn to babble like a fool, he’d eased you open. Asked you about the record collection in your room (he was proud of himself for remembering). You’d rambled off your favourite artists, a lot similar, and he knew he’d be an idiot if he didn’t give you his number before he left.
And he did. Wrote his number on your hand as you stood at your doorway and he thanked you for breakfast. And for walking him home, drunk. You kissed his cheek and watched him press his fingers into his skin until he rounded the corner.
You wrote the number down on a piece of paper, magnetising it to your fridge as soon as you shut the door. Though your hands were sweaty - obviously because you were around Remus - and the last number had smudged. Was it a 3? Or an 8? Or a weird looking 5? You couldn’t tell and told yourself that was a problem you could deal with later.
It was later. A whole week later and you still hadn’t called him. If it was due to your nerves or the fact you had a missing number, that was your business only. You left the last space blank, the empty spot a blinding reminder of your stupidity. You’d just have to try every number until you found Remus. It would take no more than ten attempts.
Numbers zero through four were all wrong numbers. You were only met with a piercing tone before the line went dead. When you got to five, you were met with, what sounded like, a grumpy old lady. You tried to hang up straight away, well aware it wasn’t him, but she screeched and persisted that if she had a prank call one more time, she would phone the police!
Turns out, it was a 6 after all. The lovely tone of Remus’s voice rings down the line and you sigh in relief.
“It’s you.” Your voice is airy and Remus isn't sure he knows who it is.
There are only a handful of people who have his number. His friends, most of them called and checked in regularly, except Mary, who's always one to stop by instead. His parents and his neighbour had it too. But he seriously doubted the latter, unless his flat had been ransacked.
And then he remembers he'd given it to you and he laughs. All these thoughts happen within the span of two seconds. He hopes it's you, he's been anticipating a call all week. He was beginning to maybe think you didn’t actually want to hear from him. That he'd embarrassed himself in his drunken stupor. But then he remembered how nice you were to him.
You’ll make yourself sick.
“It is?” he laughs, still hoping it is in fact you. The image of his flat turned upside down, the spot on his mantle where his small TV is, now empty, flashes across his mind.
“Remus. It’s me!” you chirp and he pushes his phone closer to his ear as if it’ll make him hear your pretty voice even clearer.
”Me? I don’t think I know any me’s” he teases, fighting back an eager smile. Teasing you could be fun. Could become a constant. He’s imagining the warmth of your cheeks, and hopefully a small smile.
“Y/N,” you correct and he can almost hear the roll of your eyes.
“Oh. I know an Y/N,” he smiles, leaning against the lip of his kitchen bench. “She’s very pretty,” he pauses, wanting to drag it out, “and she’s super-”
“Remus,” you plead. Half wanting him to continue, half wanting him to stop to save your phone splitting in half where you’re holding it too hard. “Stop.”
Hearing your smile isn’t enough for him, “Super cool. Actually probably way too cool for me and…”
Remus sighs, very happy with himself.
“You done?” you ask.
“Maybe.”
“You’re a nuisance.”
Remus decides to not argue, you’re half right anyways. “I’m sorry. What’s up?”
You pause, thinking. You’ve forgotten why you called him for a moment. Too happy with just listening to him talk. You think you could do it all day if he let you. “I was wondering if you were coming out tonight? Drinks?” You feel silly asking now. It was drinks for James, he’d gotten a promotion, but of course, Remus is coming, they're best friends.
“Are you?”
You grin, “Yes. Yeah, I am.”
“Great. Me too.”
The excitement you feel when you know you’ll be seeing him again is palpable. Giddiness mixed with a number of nerves is always there whenever you think of him. He makes you feel like a schoolgirl again and you know he’ll be the cause of your undoing.
“Great.”
A face-splitting smile erupts across Remus’s features. If only you could see each other.
-
The amount of time you spend getting ready in the afternoon for James’s get-together is silly. After what's an almost stupid amount of time rustling through your closet to find something, the final thing you settle on you hope isn’t stupid. A red skirt that ends mid-thigh, a white tee and a leather jacket. Boots that you hope actually do your legs justice, not just how they look in the mirror.
You know exactly why you're making such a fuss with your appearance. Spending an extra amount of time making sure loose hairs are sprayed down and a fresh coat of nail polish that's applied probably a little too late before you make your way out your front door.
You think that maybe if you didn’t know if Remus was attending or not it'd be a lot easier on you. Or maybe worse. God, you're a mess. You just really want to make him like you.
Arriving at the pub a little early is probably a bad idea in the long run. You greet James and Lily with equal delight. You hadn’t seen them since his shindig at least two weeks ago. Sirius, pint in hand, greets you loud enough to let the entire pub know of your arrival. Frank and Alice are absent. In-laws. You feel as though you had finally found the perfect group of friends.
James had told you that Remus was probably going to be late.
Which gives you too much time to down an inappropriate number of vodka-cranberries, much to Sirius’s delight. Pressed into a corner booth, settled next to James and Sirius who have now also transitioned to fruity drinks.
When Remus finally arrives, the sun now set, you're at least five cocktails deep. The pub is a little loud now, though you’d never struggle to hear any of your rambunctious friends. They're probably half the noise. You're a giggling mess, warm from the effects of alcohol. You feel ridiculously happy like you expected to, but you haven’t even seen Remus yet.
When you sip back the last dregs of your drink, the rim pressed into your nose, determined not to waste a single drop, your eyes finally settle on Remus who's selfishly been admiring you from afar. Your eyes light up like a delighted puppy and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.
He walks to the edge of the table, wet and sticky wood pressing into his jeans and he grimaces. “Finally he arrives,” James cheers, mojito raised in the air.
“Moony! Looking as ravishing as ever, my boy!” Sirius cheers with equal flare.
Remus ignores both of them with a tiny smile, too used to their words it’s like second nature to ignore them. “Sweetheart,” he smiles at you and you light up even more.
“Remus! You’re here.”
Sirius gets up and slides along the wall to make room for Remus next to you, “He looks ravishing, wouldn’t you say, Y/N? Good enough to eat,” he repeats
“I am hungry,” you admit with a giggle as Remus settles down next to you, only enough room for a sheet of paper to fit between your thighs.
“Having a good time, lovely?” Remus gestures to the empty glasses taking up the table in front of you. Your lips are stained red and he has to lick his own.
“Amazing!” You lean into his side and your hair tickles his neck. Your warmth seeps through Remus’s skin and he doesn’t have a single problem with how close the two of you are sitting. He’d be kidding himself if he said he did.
“I’m glad,” he says, hands settling atop the table.
“Are you?” You blink, eyes bright and welcoming. He has to avert his attention to your nose instead. Feeling as if you’d swallow him whole.
“I am now,” he grins.
Distracted, the half-empty glass in your hands spills when you twist its stem a little too quickly. A puddle of cosmo seeps into the half-polished tabletop and you cringe.
“Oops.” Quick to act, despite how sapped you feel from the cocktails, you grab a too-big handful of napkins from the dispenser in front of you.
With little to no flare, you push the entire pile of paper into the split drink and probably make it worse. The napkins almost turn to pink sludge and you only spread the drink further. A cold, sticky mess.
Remus laughs and grabs your wrists, pulling them up from the mess, “What have you done, hmm?” He puts your hands in your lap and you slouch, defeated.
“Accident,” you huff. You watch Remus’s hands swipe across the table, much better at cleaning up your mess. Like it wasn’t even there in the first place.
Upset that your drink is now empty, when Sirius isn’t looking, too distracted talking quidditch with James, you reach forward and snatch his mojito. Cheering internally, too happy with yourself, you sip slowly.
“He won’t be too happy with that,” Remus laughs, pushing the serviettes to the side.
You shrug, pushing further into the leather of the booth seat, “Accident.” you repeat.
Remus chuckles. You scull back the last of Sirius’s drink and Remus braces his hand on the skin between your shoulder blades, with a gentle “Take it easy,”
You turn to him and wipe the line of drink from your chin with the back of your hand. Smiling before gently slamming the now-empty glass back to the table, a ring of condensation splashes across your palm.
You wipe it across Remus’s leg unthinkingly and he wrinkles his nose. A dark stripe up his thigh. He takes your hand by the wrist again and grabs another napkin. Dabbing your palm gently and you act unaffected by his attentions when you trace the water on the table with your free hand.
“Am I the one who’s going to be doing the babysitting, tonight?” Remus counts the glasses that hadn’t been collected yet. Five. Six, now counting the one you stole.
You nod, gleefully.
“Saves me, then.” Lily takes another swig from her Pimm's, very happy. James presses into her side and throws his head back.
“Merlin, I’m tired.” he huffs.
“Boo. No fun,” you pout, eyeing only his third drink that he hadn’t touched in way too long, “You drink too slowly, that’s your problem.”
He snorts, “I don’t have the drinking problems, lovely.”
You gasp, hand to your chest, sticky fingers pressing into your skin, “Just because I’m having fun!”
You notice the beginnings of a frown across Sirius’s face, clocking the glass in front of you, green to your past pink drinks, “You little sneak.”
You pout, “Okay, I’m sorry, let me get the next round.” You move to stand and when you’re upright, the room spins. You grab Remus’s shoulder for purchase and he grabs your forearm. His grip is grounding, flesh between his slender fingers.
“Okay, let me get the drinks,” he says, standing. The love-hate relationship you have with his height hurts sometimes.
“No, let me.” You rummage through the purse over your shoulder, through sickles and spare tampons, and pull out a measly fiver. You hold it up to him with a frown, paper crumpled in your hand.
Remus chuckles and places his hands on your shoulders, “Sit.”
You do what he says and ignore the warmth in the pit of your belly.
As Remus stands at the bar to wait for the drinks, he turns to watch you with a content smile on his face and a warmth spreading up his chest until it begs to swatch his cheeks. He watches as you cover your face with your hands, giggling madly at something James is telling you.
He thinks his heart is messing with him when it skips in his chest. When you throw your head back, neck bared and your eyes squinted, your shoulders raise like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard (it could be but he doubts it), he thinks his heart has an actual fault. Almost halting completely when your eyes meet his and he thinks he’s been caught, but you smile contently and he has to look away before it jumps out his throat.
He knows he’s truly done for.
He returns with a tray of drinks, mojito’s for his friends and a pint for himself, a packet of crisps pinched between his teeth. If he doesn’t choose to drink cocktails with everyone else because he wants to be sober to keep his eye on you, that’s completely his business.
He places the drinks down, a hum of thank yous and cheers follow, he opens his mouth to let the crisps fall into your lap. You startle and look up at him, bemused.
“You said you were hungry.” He smiles.
You beam, hiccuping what he thinks is thanks.
“Where’s my fuckin food?” Sirius calls, voice very clear above the din of the pub. He throws a cube of ice at Remus and misses.
“Up your ass.”
Sirius goes to reach for a crisp and you clutch the foil bag close to your chest. He doesn’t try again, thinking you might bite him. “Fuck, I need a cig.”
He stands and stops Remus from sitting as he climbs over you. Squeezing past with almost zero care. You laugh, he seems hangry.
When he almost steps on your toe, “Look out, you prat.” Remus scolds.
“C’mon. Outside.” Sirius drags him away before he can even protest.
-
“You gonna ask her out, or what?” Sirus leans against the wall of the smoking area and flicks his ash.
Remus groans, “Don’t say it like it's easy or some shit.”
“Is it not?” Sirius laughs like it’s obvious. Remus envies his natural charm some days. He wished it came easy to him.
“No. She doesn’t like me like that.” Remus toes the gravel beneath his boot with a crunch. Watches as it skips across the ground and to the firepit. A distraction from the scolding that he’s expecting he’s about to get from Sirius.
Sirius coughs on a thick exhale of smoke, pushes himself off the wall. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
“What? No.” In some delusional, fucked up way, no, Remus is fucking with Sirius. Not since 7th year, anyways.
“She's mad about you,” Sirius laughs around the filter of his cigarette, “It’s sickening really. I mean she’s gotta be half dumb or something.” After another exhale he flicks more ash to the ground.
“Fuck up.”
“Whatever.”
There’s a beat before Remus says, “She doesn’t feel that way about me.” His head rests against the red brick behind him and wishes it would swallow him up. He wishes this was easier.
“What, you think she wears her best red skirt for people she doesn’t love?”
He lifts his head and glares at Sirius, “You really are a fucking twat, you know?” He steals the cigarette from between Sirius’s fingers and ignores his grunt as he inhales deeply. As deep as he can until Sirius swats his hand.
“I’m fucking kidding.” He takes it back, grimacing at the butt of what’s left.
“Still a twat,” Remus grunts.
Sirius flicks the orange filter to the ground and squashes it under his leather boot. “Seriously, Moons. Make a move already, it’s starting to get sad.”
He sighs, and Sirius almost wants to slap some sense into him. He doesn’t, remembering how he’d reacted last time he did. “I can’t. I’m not ruining anything.”
He decides to pat his shoulder instead, a gentler approach, “You’re a miserable sap.” He squeezes his sad friend, “She likes you, a lot, and she’s really good for you, y’know?”
“She is, isn’t she?” Remus sighs, lovelorn and dizzy, “Fuck, she’s so amazing. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Have you seen her when she laughs? Fuck sakes.” He has to stop himself before he rants too much.
The both of them start to make their way back into the pub. “Alright, put your fucking cock away.”
Remus opens the door to the bar, “Get inside,” he laughs.
“If you don’t make a move soon, fuck I might.” Remus’s face goes slack and he pushes his dickhead of a friend towards their table with a little too much force. He stumbles with a hearty chuckle.
Left alone in the middle of the bar, a little incensed, he turns to look around and spots what looks like your aforementioned red skirt, standing in front of the claw machine.
Bemused, but more intrigued, he beelines for you with slow strides. When he stands behind you he places his hand to your shoulder. You turn around and smile warmly. You’re standing, more like swaying, with both hands inside your purse.
“What are you doing, dove?” he asks and squeezes your shoulder. You push back into him, probably for the stability you lack. He braces you with his thigh behind yours.
“You smell like a chimney.” You wrinkle your nose and he laughs. It reverberates through your chest and you have to blink away the way it makes you feel. Sleepy.
“Sirius is a horrible influence,” he says with an equally wrinkled nose.
“I’m looking for a coin,” you answer his question, looking back down into your purse. “Want to win you something.” Remus’s heart swells tenfold.
Before he can pull one from his pocket as an offering, you bend over and tip your entire purse to the paisley carpet, contents spilling everywhere. Wizard money, bright pink tampons, chapsticks and gum wrappers sit in a pile and Remus steps back with a disgruntled sigh.
You turn and crouch down to sort through everything, Remus looks down and gawps for a second. Half amused, half displeased. He bends down with you and helps as well.
“Do you think it'll take sickles?” you question, moving bandaids to the side. It’s looking like a lost cause.
Remus shakes his head with a laugh, “I don’t think so, honey.”
You frown.
“Here,” He handles a few items and places them in your purse, “I’ll help you clean this up and I’ll win you something, hm?” Remus thinks you’re a bit like Mary Poppins with how much stuff you have. He’d say this to you because you probably would understand the muggle reference, but you seem too upset over your lack of coins.
“Was gonna win you some chocolate,” you laugh, picking up more stuff.
The last few items fall back in with little organisation and he stands. You take his outstretched hands and let him gently tug you back up with a ruffle of your hair.
He pulls a coin from his pocket and slots it into the machine. You stand around to the side with your hands pressed to the glass like a little kid. The flow of colours washes you fluorescent as you point to a cherry ripe in a perfect spot.
He grips the joystick and moves it to where he thinks it hovers right above it.
“More to the left,” you say with your finger smooshed against the machine.
“You’re drunk,” he says before he pushes the red button on top of the stick, not moving it to where you’d said.
You laugh as it doesn’t even graze the chocolate. Claw coming back up with nothing. “Whatever.” He has two more chances at grabbing it and he’s determined.
The second time he does listen to you but still misses by the width of a hair. You both hold your breath as the claw gets lowered for the final time. You bend over to get a better view and watch as it gets picked up, not cheering until it gets dropped in the chute.
You clap as Remus cheers, taking the chocolate thankfully, opening it immediately with a crinkle of red foil. “Thank you, Remus.”
“Anytime.”
You break the chocolate in half and offer him the bigger portion. You both stand there, chewing on cherry and coconut and chocolate. You look at your sticky fingers and the worst of the after-effects of six cocktails suddenly hits you in a wave of nausea. Not enough to make you want to throw up, but enough for you to groan and grab your stomach.
“I think I should go home,” you whine, placing your half of the chocolate back into the wrapper and into your purse, probably just to melt and make a mess. A later problem, you think.
“Feeling okay?” he asks, turning to check you over. Etebrows pinched in concern already.
“I think I had too many cocktails,” you laugh, weakly at that.
“How are you getting home?” he asks.
You laugh, having flashbacks to your last encounter. “That’s my line.”
“It’s a good one.”
“I don’t know how I’m getting home,” you say.
“I’ll call you a taxi.”
You sigh, “That’d be lovely.”
-
After saying goodbye to the rest of the group, after they’d moaned about your fifteen-minute disappearance with Remus, Thought you’d gotten stuck in the cubicle! James had laughed. Drunkenly, you’d missed the joke. Remus had smacked him up the back of the head. But now, the both of you were making your way to the front entrance.
Remus has to drag you out the door, holding you upright as you stammer and trip on things that aren't there.
“Be careful,” he tuts, holding you closer under his arm.
“There was a frog!” you explain, very much exasperated.
“No there wasn’t,” he laughs.
“Was so!” you strain, fisting his shirt behind his back, sure to stretch the cotton.
“You just want me to hold you tighter.” He’s smug when he says it and can’t really help it. He has Sirius’s words ringing in the back of his head.
You stop at the gutter and kick a stone with your boot, “Maybe.”
Your knees ache, wanting nothing more than to crouch down to the ground. You think it would probably be a bad idea. Though with sore knees and a spinning head, bad ideas turned to the best.
You pull yourself from Remus' hold and bend your legs to crouch in the gutter. Remus’s eyes blow wide and he looks down at you. Not again, he thinks.
Before he can ask what you’re doing, thinking you've passed out, you look up, “Head rush,” you giggle with a huff of air. He sits down next to you, knees almost pressed into his chin.
Remus tugs your knee so you turn towards him, legs pressed together. He keeps his large palm over your thigh because being crouched in a gutter leaves little to the imagination to the drunks walking past and he’s not going to ask you to get up if you’re dizzy.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
You rest your head on his shoulder much like he had the last time you saw him. He hopes he had more care than you do with your cheek cruelly smooshed into his skin. “I’m just a little drunk.”
Lucky for Remus, before he thinks you’re about to fall asleep on his shoulder, your taxi is pulling up. He helps you stand, opens the back door and ushers you in.
Listening to your murmur of thanks Remus before he clicks you in.
“What’s your address, dove? So I can tell the driver.” You give him your address and he passes it off.
Before he can close the door for you, you grab his wrist.
“When can I see you next?” you ask brightly. Hopefully.
“Call me when you’re not hungover,” he laughs, brushing his fingers across your arm. Your grip hardens.
“You’ll answer?” He almost laughs again at how drunk you sound. Of course, he’ll answer.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
You lean across your seat, seatbelt pulling taut as you press a kiss to his cheek. Warm and buttery-soft just like last time, but maybe even worse now that his feelings for you are stronger. It burns.
“Thank you, Remus.”
“That’s okay, lovely.”
-
You in fact did call Remus, a couple of days after your night out. Expected, you were hungover so you waited a day after to talk.
Remus hadn’t really been expecting you to call him, despite how eager you seemed, he had talked himself out of believing you had any feelings for him. Like he’d imagined it or something.
So, when his phone rings, he’s not expecting it to be you at all. He answers with a sigh, thinking it’s James or Sirius.
“What do you want?” His voice is void of any excitement or joy you’d been selfishly expecting. You were also expecting a more welcoming greeting.
“Remus?” you say, and his hand stills in his cupboard where he’s distractedly putting clean dishes away.
He shuts the cupboard’s door a little too abruptly and cringes, clears his throat so he can speak, “Y/N! Shit, sorry. Hey.” He cringes even more at his stupidity.
“Expecting someone else?” you laugh.
He nods like you can see him, “Yeah, sorry.” He swallows and tries to fix himself, “How are you?”
“I’m good,” you say with a little sigh, “Really, really good.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah, how are you?” you question.
Remus’s voice goes quieter, “Amazing.” Then there’s a small beat like you’re both thinking, “So, what’s up? Everything okay?”
In his mind, his stupid, paranoid mind, there’s a possibility that all you’ve done is pocket-dialled him. Or, accidentally pressed his name in your contacts, maybe mistaken the name Moony for Mum.
Is his name Moony in your phone? Or is it just Sirius’s friend? God, he wants his thoughts to shut up.
“I wanted to ask you something!” When it sounds like you actually want to talk to him, what almost feels like relief washes over him. Paints him bright as he settles on his sofa, beaming like a schoolboy when he says,
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah!” Your excitement is dizzying. “Are you free this weekend?”
He has to swallow before he speaks, eagerness bleeds through his skin. His foot taps and he picks at a loose thread on his battered shirt. “Yeah, I am.”
You chirp a happy noise, “Awesome! Cool. Um, there’s that gig on at The Red Lion if you wanted to come?”
Remus doesn’t see himself as a cool person and it definitely doesn’t show when he says, “Yeah! I’d love to.” in a tone pitched higher than normal.
“Great. I think Sirius is coming too, I told him about it the other day and said he should invite the others. I wasn’t sure if he had asked you yet.”
Oh.
Remus feels like the biggest idiot ever. You weren’t asking him out, why would you?
He leans down between his legs until all the air is forced from his lungs, he covers the receiver with his hand and groans, long and suffering in self-pity.
Is coughing to clear your throat and hide your disappointment a good thing? Because his voice is a little squeaky when he replies. When he sits back up his head spins. “Sounds great.”
He hears some shuffling on the end of your line before you say, “Amazing. I’ll see you then. Sorry, gotta go. Bye Remus!”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
Remus has about thirty seconds of wallowing in self-pity before his phone is ringing again. He wants to shove it in between his sofa cushions and forget about everything. But he sees Sirius' name flash up on the screen so he answers.
“Moony!” Sirius’s voice pierces the phone line and Remus cringes. “Remus, my good friend.”
“Did you just get lucky or something?” Remus gruffs.
“Huh?”
“You’re too happy. Calm it down.”
Sirius groans, “You’re so content with being miserable, Remus. Just because you can’t get your dick wet.”
Remus wished his stupid friend could see the displeasure on his face, “What do you want?”
“You’re free this weekend, aren’t you?” He questions and Remus hums a yes, expecting to hear the exact same question you had just asked him only three minutes ago.
“Well, you, me, the gang, and a few pints at The Red Lion. Sounds like a plan?” Remus detests his friend's happiness. Or envies it. He feels miserable and doesn’t think Sirius is deserving of his lack of enthusiasm just because you didn’t ask him out.
“Yeah, Y/N already asked me,” he replies.
“Well, don’t get too excited.” Sirius huffs a laugh.
“No, sorry. It’s just I thought she- never mind. Sounds good.”
“Awesome. I’ll send you the deets.”
Remus almost laughs, “The deets? Wait until I tell Marls you talk like that.”
“Shut up.”
“Bye, Sirius.”
Sirius hangs up before he can.
-
Remus spots you before you do, again. Watches where you lean against the bar on your tip-toes, talking to the bartender about something. He’s making you laugh and he feels the stupid need that it should be him instead.
He does what he always does; walks up behind you and presses his shoulder into your back. You chirp and turn around. Then, your eyes do that thing that they always do that makes him bite the inside of his cheek. They squint, confused, and then light up when you realise who you’re looking at. Remus could swear that they sparkle, but that’s just something he imagines in his lovesick head.
“Remus!” You smile, mouth upturning until the apples of your cheeks swell. You wrap your fingers around his bicep and pull him into your side. He lets you, willingly.
“Y/N,” he says probably a little too quietly for the setting. The pub is starting to fill quickly while the band does sound check, the general hubbub of the patrons mixes in with the strumming of guitars and the feedback from the mics.
“You’re all wet,” you giggle, pressing your fingers into the underside of his arm.
“Yeah, it’s starting to rain out there,” he says.
“You walked?” You frown, pulling your hands from his arm. He can still feel where your fingers were wrapped. A burn against his wet skin.
“From the bus stop.”
“You know there’s this thing wizards can do, I’m not sure if you heard of it. It’s called disapparition,” you quirk, mouth upturning into a teasing smile.
Amused, Remus says, “I don’t usually like muggles to watch someone appear out of thin air.”
You reach forward to grab some napkins from the dispenser on the bar, probably too many. “I would’ve picked you up,” you say matter-of-factly.
He doesn’t reply, just stops still when you reach up to brush away the damp hair from his eyes. There’s water bunching in his hair and falling in tiny beads down his face, over his top lip. You laugh when he licks it away before you dab across his forehead and then his cheeks.
“I missed you,” you say, bunching the paper into a ball.
Remus smiles, too hard he thinks. “You saw me last weekend.”
You think he might be teasing you, though you’re not sure. You feel like you’ve overstepped. Demure, your eyes widen at your error. “Sorry,” you laugh, airy and quiet.
Remus pokes you in your side, “I missed you too,” he laughs.
You nod your head and bite your lip. You feel eased. But embarrassed in the first place. Scrunching the ball of damp napkins in your hands until it pinches. Still, you’re overjoyed.
“What are you drinking?” you ask, splaying your hands over the bar, leaning where it comes up to your chest. You try to ignore everything. The way Remus is making you feel, the busy pub that’s teeming with rowdy people.
“Not sure,” he quirks, eyeing the taps at the end of the bar. “What about you?”
“I think I might just stick to squash,” you laugh knowingly.
“You’re on it tonight,” Remus laughs, splaying his fingers around your shoulder.
“I’m not having any repeats of last week.”
“Damn,” he pouts, “Drunk Y/N is cute.”
You warm, “Drunk Y/N is messy.”
He squeezes you, a funny pinch. “I think you can be both.”
You lean into his side while he orders your drinks. His hand doesn’t move and you don’t want it to. It’s warm and grounding and feels too good to be true. How touchy he is and how you love it. You imagine a world where he doesn’t just touch your shoulder. Imagining what he’d do if you were together. How ruining he would be.
Distracted by his grip on your arm, before you can even reach into your purse to grab your money, he’s paid.
“Remus,” you scold, pushing yourself off the bar.
“Dove,” he smiles, placating. He grabs both of your drinks, in one hand, fingers twisting. The other snakes down to grab your hand to guide you through the crowd of people.
“Stop paying for my drinks.” Someone bumps into you and Remus digs his elbow into your side to stop you from tripping. You smile thankfully.
You let him weave you through patrons, your hand flexing around his until you get to your table. Once you've sat down, he says, “Sorry, didn’t think a fiver would cover it.”
Faux scolding, you shove his arm. “I have more money on me this time.”
“Good,” Sirius pipes up, “you can buy me that cocktail you owe me.”
“I’m sorry, Sirius.” You act like it genuinely does upset you. Though the thought of how you acted when you were drunk last week, is worse. “I’m a really annoying drunk.”
“Sirius is being dramatic,” Remus sighs, leaning back against the booth. He throws an arm behind you, pressing it up against the wall. You stay sitting forward, not sure if it’d be too much to lean into him. Despite him making the first move. “You got your cocktail.”
“Yeah, you bought it,” Sirius faux scoffs. It’s hard to believe that he actually cares about a stolen mojito, easier to believe he’s determined to tease you until you die. “Doesn’t count.”
“I’ll buy you a cocktail if you really want me to, Sirius,” you lilt, happy to get him to shut up. It works when Remus shoots him a look you don’t understand. Sirius bites his tongue and sits back in his seat.
By the time James and Lily get back from the bar, the band has started their set and you’ve had enough time to think too much on whether or not you should lean into Remus’s side. His weight behind you feels like a magnet. The more you want to pull away the stronger the urge is to just give up and fall against him.
Much like everything is with Remus. The more you allow yourself to think you really do like him, the harder it is to keep to your regular ways. You’ve never allowed yourself to be so openly affectionate and loving towards someone without second-guessing every single thing you do.
Not that you don’t. Every time you speak to him, touch his arm for too long or allow yourself to wrap your own arm around his back, there’s that voice in the back of your head that’s screaming at you. Telling you that you’ve let your guard down too much for a boy you’re not even sure likes you as much as you do him and you’ve embarrassed yourself.
It’s totally overwhelming and constantly feels like a back-and-forth battle. Because, sure, it's no secret anymore to anyone who isn't Remus, that you like him. You just wished it were easier.
As if he can hear your head reeling, or he’s just noticed how quiet you’ve suddenly become, he nudges your leg where it’s crossed with his own jean-clad one.
“You okay?” he asks. His face is soft. Too soft for your dismissive and relentless thoughts to ebb. It’s suddenly painful to even be looking at him and you’ve only been around him for no less than twenty minutes. He’s always had that ability.
The nod you give him is unconvincing and your smile is even worse. His eyes flicker and you open your mouth to speak before he can, “Yeah, jus’ thinking.”
“I can tell.”
“You can?”
You chance another look back at him and regret it instantly when he’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. “Yeah.” He nods, “You’re making that face you always do when something’s eating at you.”
Hating being read for filth, you turn to take a sip from your drink, filling your mouth with your straw lest you say something stupid. You drink it too quickly, and once it’s down to its last dregs, your head aches. Brain freeze. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to distract yourself when you say, “What face?”
“Your lips part and your eyebrows pinch. Sometimes I have to double-check you’re not crying.” Remus is a lovely, horribly attentive boy. And if he keeps saying things like that, things that let you know he does actually pay attention to you, you’re not going to last. When you said you wondered how ruining he would be, this isn’t what you had in mind.
Remus says something to you again, but you don’t catch it. The band transitions into a much louder song and his words fall on deaf ears. You do, however, catch the look he shares with Sirius again over your shoulder.
Confused, you suddenly think fresh air would be better than to pain yourself through whatever’s happening around you. “I’ll go get that mojito,” you mumble.
You weave yourself over Remus’s lap, careful where your shoes and hands land, careful to also ignore where he stables you with his own hand on the back of your knee. You try to make it discrete as you beeline for the bar, taking a small turn to head for the back doors.
The warm air cast from the setting sun slowly dwindles away and you cross your arms over your body, leaning against the railing to the left of the smoking area. When the door shuts behind you, the music from inside slowly dies down and you’re grateful to be the only one out here.
The fear you have been feeling throughout your entire friendship with Remus does its best to claw its way up your throat. Makes your breathing staggered and your palms itch. You suspect if you spent any more time with him inside you would’ve only embarrassed yourself more than you feel like you already have. Best you do it out here instead.
The muffled music slowly grows louder when you hear the door open and you pay it no mind. Not until there’s a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and turn around, pushing yourself against the railing.
“Shit, sorry. Just me,” Remus smiles, pulling his hand from your shoulder.
“Remus,” you breathe, hand to your chest, “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he frowns.
You pause. Trust him to notice your departure. You hope he doesn’t ask you any questions, you don’t expect yourself to hold anything in anymore if he soothes you over.
“You okay?”
Fuck sakes.
“Um, yeah.” You nod. Remus moves to your side, arm pressed up against the railing and you follow him. Turning so you’re face to face.
“You sure? You just kind of up and left.” he laughs weakly, stopping when he notices you don’t join in.
“Sorry,” you apologise.
“What for?” he asks kindly. You once more detest his kindness and his ability to get you to open up.
“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning further into the railing and it rattles, “I’m being weird.” You’re not opening up like you’d expected, though the words you want to say to him are at the back of your mind, where they were once pushed away, slowly crawling forward. If he keeps looking at you like that, they might spill.
“You’re not.”
“I am. I’m thinking too much and it,” you heave a calming breath. You want to tell him how you feel, not ramble, “it hurts.”
“Hey,” He traces a line over the hinge of your elbow, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm? Care to let me in?”
You swallow, “That’s the problem. I can’t find the words.”
“That’s okay.” He squeezes your arm, “Take your time.”
His gaze is soft though it still burns where it’s settled over your face, his grip on your arm is worse. Still, it’s grounding. You blink and take a few calming breaths.
The door opens up again and the band’s music spews back outside. It’s the same song that was playing the night you sat on Sirius's couch and you’d freaked about how it was both your favourite. In some cheesy, cliche way, you take it as a sign.
“I’ve never been one for showing, let alone telling someone how I feel about them,” you begin, “I’m not sure if that’s the most obvious thing ever, or if I’ve gotten really good at hiding it but…”
Remus is smiling widely, more smug than anything. It makes you nervous and you advert your gaze to the ground. Over the ash-strained brick tile under your sneakers, “Stop looking at me like that or I won’t be able to finish what I’m trying to tell you,” you sigh.
“Like what?” he asks like he’s oblivious. Like his mouth isn’t now upturned into the slyest smile.
“That!’’ Your face grows warm and you have to press the backs of your hands into them. You can feel the thrumming of your heart in your fingertips.
“Sorry, you were saying,” he chuckles.
“God, where did you get all this confidence from, Remus?” you ask, a little dazed. Maybe it’s the setting or the fact you’re both finally sober together that brings out a different side of him, though you can’t be sure.
Remus shakes his head, “I’m sorry, you just look so cute when you get flustered.”
Your mouth parts, a shocked, demure gasp slips past them. Gawping, you say, “You’re not drunk, are you?” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it's the first time it feels different.
“Not this time. For once,” he laughs knowingly.
“Right,” you pause. Taking in a shuddered breath. In what world you would ever expect this to be easy, you’re not sure. You’re also not sure that doing this with Remus makes it easier. Easier, because he makes you feel secure and appropriately worked down to tell him anything; harder because it’s him you have to let your emotions go with. It’s him you have to let know of your heartachingly, sore feelings you have. He can’t just be there on the sidelines guiding you through it.
Remus watches you slip away into your shy, quiet self again. He can almost hear your thoughts reeling, “God, you’re worse than me.”
You giggle nervously, all pitched up and light, “You make me nervous,”
He steps forward and if your eyes weren’t stuck on the ground, you wouldn’t have noticed it. He’s smooth. “Do I now?” He hooks a knuckle under your downwardly pointed chin and gives it a tap.
You look back up, catching his gaze, “I hate you,”
“No you don’t,” he says matter of factly. Like its the most obvious thing ever. You’re sure it is.
“I don’t?” You blink slowly.
He closes the gap between you some more and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by him. The smell of his laundry detergent, something familiar and heady, mixed in with the cologne that you swear follows you home. Where the toe of his boot almost touches your sneaker and where the sleeve of his sweater catches on your bracelet because he’s as close as possible. Though you still think he’s not close enough.
His voice mixes in with the same song that’s playing inside and you can barely hear him when it builds to a crescendo and he says, “You weren’t about to go on some rant about how you love me?”
“Remus…” you murmur, quieter than the thumping of your heart in your chest,
“No?”
You bite your tongue, but it does nothing to stop you from saying, “God, yes. Just- kiss me, please.”
“What?” he asks, more shocked than you’ve been this entire interaction.
“Kiss me, Remus. Before the song ends.” You lean into him, up on the balls of your feet and pull your hands between your bodies.
Face to face, lips hovering over yours, he murmurs, “You sure?”
“Completely,”
It’s the last thing you say before Remus kisses you so hard, so deep, that you forget how it was even possible to form words in his presence before now. Snakes his arms around your back and holds you so close your shirt rides up until your skin presses into the soft material of his sweater.
He tastes of stout, a weird mixture against the lemon on your tongue. You can’t find it in you to mind when he hums into your mouth. A desperate, pleading sound that has you squeezing the flesh of his hips. Compared to the reserved and diffident relationship you’ve held with Remus up until now, the kiss you share is nothing alike. It’s passionate and heated. Longing.
The song ends and with a final tug of your bottom lip, he pulls away panting. Eyes skipping over your face, a little glassy and bouncy. “Fuck,” he murmurs.
Tugging on the hem of his sweater, you say, “What?’' with a light chuckle.
“If I…” Remus has to compose himself lest he says something embarrassing. Completely forward. “If I knew kissing you would’ve been like that…I would’ve done it ages ago.”
“I think I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a really long time,” you confess, giddily rocking back and forth on your feet. Canvas sneakers crushing into the ground.
“Yeah?” he hums. Smugness still ever present.
“Yeah.”
“Thoughts on me kissing you again?” he asks, still not letting you go where you’re held against his torso.
You look over his shoulder, “I think if you kiss me again, Sirius’s jaw might fall to the floor.”
Remus turns and spots Sirius and James almost pressed to the glass window. James doesn’t look as pleased, shoving a crumpled note into Sirius's palm. Turning back to face you, he rolls his eyes, “I think they had a bet going.”
“Should we give Sirius his money’s worth?” you giggle.
“I’m going to kiss you. But, not for Sirius.” Remus says, “Only because you look insanely beautiful right now and if I don’t do it again, my brain might go numb.”
“What are you waiting for then?”
“Nothing.”
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x female reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x yn#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin oneshot#marauders fanfiction#the marauders fanfiction#marauder x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
. . . 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 ! ˚₊✩‧₊
— pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader
general tags: college! au, established relationship, fluff, suggestive
content warnings: period cramps, reader is a baby, ellie is patient, kissing, allusions to sex, brief mention of dealer!ellie + not proofread and also not my best work bc i was in pain !
note: this is super self-indulgent bc i am, unfortunately, on my monthly, and so, i am making it everyone’s problem >.<
ellie’s annoyed. actually, she’s concerned—maybe, slightly, kind of more than that too, but right now, she’s annoyed. this wasn’t like you—not answering messages, not answering calls.
she’d understand it if you were busy, especially since finals season was steadily approaching as the days passed, but she knew you didn’t have any plans today. that much was confirmed the last time she’d spoken to you, which was, if she could recall (she could recall it perfectly), last night at 8:00 p.m.
future wife 👰♀️: gn baby, see you tomorrow for breakfast! get some sleep ok? <33
ellie: alr goodnight baby. i’ll come get you at 9 ok? don’t oversleep this time, wanna get some french toast before all the athletes take it :/
future wife 👰♀️: never gonna let me live it down, huh?
ellie: never!
future wife 👰♀️: god alr, i won’t oversleep!!! promise :3 now gn fr this time!!! gts!!!
ellie: ok bossy i’m going to sleep 🫡 love you
that was the last message she’d sent to you that night. this morning, however, she made an effort to send you a slew of follow-up texts before making her way over to your dorm:
ellie: good morning sexy, you up?
ellie: it’s french toast time ☝🏻
ellie: don’t tell me you’re sleeping…
there was five minutes sent in-between each message, and yet, still no response. that’s when she got the bright idea to call.
“alright, this should wake her up,” she raised the phone to her ear, pacing around her apartment while waiting for the line to go through. to her dismay, it rung a few times before going straight to voicemail—to which she almost got excited over because you’ve got one of those annoying ass voicemails that sound like someone picked up the line.
“hey […], this is (name). sorry you can’t reach me right now, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you as soon as i c—”
“fucking hell.” ellie pinches the knot between her brows and sighs, ending the call before voicemail you can finish your sentence. again, she calls, thinking this time you’ll answer, but to no avail. it goes right to voicemail.
“the fuck…” she doesn’t even bother leaving a message. beelines right to her closet and grabs her sneaks, a hoodie, and her wallet, then heads out of her apartment building and begins the trek to your dormitory.
when she gets there, she buzzes in with her student keycard, and pads right up to the security desk. just as she’s about to open her mouth, one of the guards sitting interrupts her.
“can i see your proof of residence, please?” he says blankly, raising a fig bar up to his mouth.
“randy, really? you know me, i’m here almost every other day—just without my girlfriend—who i’m actually here to see,” she raises a finger, forearms leaning forward over the desk. randy feigns indifference, and opts to stuff the last of his bar in his mouth.
“you’re not a resident here, ellie. sorry, but you know the rules.”
“how about you shove the rules up your a—actually, that’s alright. my buddy right here will sign me in as a guest.” she grins devilishly at the dark haired man across the lobby, blinking once, twice, before flashing him a smile.
“jesse! my life saver, my best-friend, my messiah, my—“
“what do you want, ellie?” he rolls his eyes, pulling out his student keycard to flash randy. ellie purses her lips as if she’s been found out, then pulls jesse aside by the cloth of his jacket. she leans in real close so that what she says is out of earshot.
“sign me in as a guest and i’ll give you free weed during your next visit,” she bargains, wiggling her brows like she knows the offer is too good to pass up. jesse doesn’t answer her right away. instead, opts to tease her. puts his index finger on his chin, and opens his stance as if he’s really mulling it over. ellie’s not impressed.
a beat, then, he shrugs, mumbling a quick ‘better keep your word williams’.
ellie grins, something real big and cheshire-like, because she knows him. who’d be stupid enough to pass up free weed? exactly, no one. especially not a stressed college student, that’s for sure.
“thanks man, you’re really doing me a solid, you know,” she pats his back, to which he mutters a knowing ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’. she watches intently as he signs her in under his name, then makes a face at randy when she hands over her student keycard for him to keep.
“see ya later rand’!” the auburn haired girl says with the flick of a hand, turning the corner of the desk to get to the elevators.
“yeah, whatever.”
. . .
once the elevator comes to a halt on your floor, ellie gives jesse a final thank you before departing. as she walks down the winding hallway, she can’t help but to think the worst. what if you were unconscious? what if you’d been axe-murdered? what if you’d been kidnapped? all very unlikely, she knows, but not impossible.
when her mind sifts through a few more frightening scenarios, she realizes she’s already made it to your door. should she knock? she feels like she should knock, but then she figures if all her previous attempts to wake you up were unsuccessful, then who’s to say a few measly knocks would do the trick?
she decides against it. instead, she unhooks her carabiner from her jeans and fiddles around with her set of keys until she finds the spare you’d given her. until now, she’d never used it. the day you’d given it to her, you’d told her it was strictly for ‘emergencies’, and what better time to use it than now? this was surely an emergency, right?
the door unlocks and she immediately goes to twist the knob, pushes the door open and then shuts it closed behind her.
“babe, you here?” she calls out, walking through the kitchen, “you alive?” turns down the hall, “you in one piece?”
a beat. silence—save for the heavy padding of her boots as she makes her way towards your bedroom. the door is cracked open, just by a sliver, but she can see—or at least somewhat make out—the beginnings of a sleeping silhouette.
she pushes the door open and ambles to your bedside. you were fast asleep. curled up into a tight little ball with the duvet pulled up to your chin, and a mean little pout on your lips. it was adorable, and it made ellie’s heart twang with relief. at least now that she was able to verify your safety, she could forget all those terrible thoughts that she was getting herself all worked up over.
“hey, sweet girl,” she cooed, brushing the pad of her thumb over your cheek. your brows cinched in response, but you didn’t move. not even an inch. “baby,” ellie drawled in a sing-song voice.
she let her hand fall from your cheek to your back, and she rubbed it in slow, steady circles in an attempt to rouse you. after a while of this—a combination of her rubbing and cooing—you started to react.
“mmm,” you groaned, curling your knees up higher, “it hurts.”
“what hurts? what’s wrong?” opening your eyes, you were able to pair the voice of concern with a familiar face.
“ellie? what are you doing here?”
she lets a small chuckle escape her lips, then raises a hand to rest atop your head.
“what am i doing here? what are you doing here? had me worried sick about you,” she smooths a hand over your head, “missed our breakfast date.”
sighing, you slap a clammy hand over your head, then reach over ellie to grab your phone from the nightstand.
ten messages. three missed calls.
“god, i’m sorry, bellie. took some midol and melatonin last night so that i could beat these cramps, but i guess they worked a little too good, huh?”
“yeah, you nut.” she takes a glance at your nightstand and picks up the bottle of pills, shakes them around before settling them back down. “how many did you take?”
“just two…maybe three?” ellie’s eyes widen in disbelief.
“three? babe, these are 500 mg. why would you do that? the bottle says take two every six hours, and here you are taking more than the recommended amount, on top of taking melatonin,” she chides, though, it’s more out of genuine concern than it is her actually being upset.
you laugh at your own expense, but it’s short-lived because a second later, you’re clutching for your belly and writhing in pain.
ellie sighs, kicks her boots off and fully climbs up onto the bed and under the covers. once she settles into a comfortable position, she pulls you into her side.
“i know, baby, let me take care of you,” she strokes your back soothingly, “but next time, please don’t take that much. were you planning on sleeping forever?”
“maybe.” you jest, snuggling further into her warmth. admittedly, mixing both of those drugs was kind of stupid—maybe really stupid, but in your defense, you were in pain!—and really desperate. when you have cramps this bad, sometimes death sounds like mercy.
“oh, yeah?” the laugh she lets out is a deep rumble, and you can feel the vibrations of it as you lay on her chest. it’s soothing. a remedy that you should’ve utilized sooner, and you would’ve, had you been in the right headspace.
“mhm…” you purr, looking up at her, at her lips. ellie scans your face for pain, then dips down and pilfers a kiss from your lips. it’s slow, and sweet, and ends far too soon for your liking. before she can pull away, you tug her by the collar of her shirt. look up at her with pleading eyes, and fist it tighter between your knuckles.
“more,” you drawl, pulling her back down to meet your lips. she indulges you, because of course she does, and pushes you onto your back.
“thought,” a kiss, “your,” another, “cramps were bothering you?” she queries, breathless as she holds herself up above your sprawled out body. she thumbs with the hem of your shirt, waits expectantly for you to answer.
“they are,” you say, “so why don’t you make ‘em go away?”
and what kind of girlfriend would she be if did otherwise?
© arachine 2023
#:: — LEXI WRITES !#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x reader fluff#ellie williams fluff#ellie william x you#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
damnation (peek V?)
Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.
Characters: Neige LeBlanche, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit.
Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.
Note: Should I be posting this right now? Probably not. Especially since Scarabia isn’t completed, but I haven’t posted anything in a while and I’ve been more motivated and inspired for Pomefiore lately. Maybe seeing comments and opinions on this might boost my energy and make me write more and complete both Scarabia and Pomefiore. Hopefully. Anyways, I wanted to post this anyways because technically it was part of the first sneak-peek before I edited it out so I could make its own and make it longer too. That, and after seeing fanart by a mutual, I wanted to write even more. I’m finally getting the chance now. So I’ll be writing right after I post this. Go check out the most recent fanart I got for this specific part of the project. Oh, and if you have no idea what this is, you might want to check the first sneak-peek post (the “I” below) and my previous posts under the #damnation twst au tag. One last thing. None of this is edited, I just copy and pasted from the draft I have so yeah, just in case y’all see mistakes it’s because I haven’t gone over it yet. I usually go over everything once it’s completed.
I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII
THE BEAUTIFUL KING
A dark robe. Wrapped around your shoulders was a black cloak, like wings folded in. Speaking of feathered appendages, there was a single shiny feather tucked behind your ear. You had felt it tickling your earlobe, leading you to pluck it out of your hair to examine it. It was long and black, huge in size, making you imagine it came from a beast of a raven. Slowly you looked up, confused to find yourself at a desk surrounded by books, bottles of odd colorful liquids, and there was even a cauldron in the corner of the stone wall!
Returning your attention back to the feather, you were perplexed but quite liked it so you placed it back behind your ear where you had originally discovered it. Upon standing from the wooden chair, you noticed your change of outfit. A simple white ruffled shirt and black pants, although nearly every inch of you was covered by the black cloak on your back that reached all the way to your ankle and draped around you like a curtain. Lifting up the cloak, you could feel a short sword strapped safely and securely in a hilt on your back hidden away from sight. What was this place…? Why were you dressed like this? Why did you have a sword? What was going on? Was this your punishment?
Just then, your eyes drifted over to a book stand where a heavy leather tome sat open to prying eyes. Your prying eyes, to be exact. Curiously you stepped toward it, your fingers ghosting over the crisp pages of the aged book as you squinted incredulously at the words printed on the surface in a large font, occasionally dotted with red ink. “Poison apple…?” Beside it was the painted image of a ripe red apple, and in its shining reflective skin was the distinct shape of a skull. “One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever in the sleeping death.”
But that… that was from a fairytale! The story of Snow White and the Beautiful Queen! This page about a poisoned apple, the tome, this basement filled with ingredients and suspicious concoctions… So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... what role did you play? Lifting your hand up to your ear, you suddenly felt the familiar soft sensation of the black feather accessory and realization dawned on you. Didn’t the queen have a pet raven…? Could that explain why you were here in these strange but fancy clothes? Of all things, why did you have to be the raven?
How did the story go again? The Queen was vain and wicked, she wished to be the most beautiful of all. It was said that she consulted her magic mirror every day and would inquire as to who the fairest of them all was. Should the mirror ever reply with another’s name instead of hers, she would find a way to kill her rival and would only be satisfied once the mirror answered her name. So when her step-daughter, Snow White, grows to become the fairest of them all, the Queen goes mad with jealousy and has a huntsman attempt to kill her. When that fails, the Queen takes matters into her own hands, eventually turning herself ugly as a disguise and even causing her own untimely demise by falling off a cliff and being crushed by a boulder, her remains left as feed for hungry vultures. That was the Queen, but what about the raven? Well, it’s never disclosed as to what happens to the bird, at least to your knowledge. The last the raven is seen, it was being tormented by the wicked Queen as she was creating the poisoned apple. Actually, maybe being the raven wasn’t so bad afterall… At least it didn’t perish or receive some other horrible ending.
Knowing this brought you much relief. At least you didn’t end up as the raven in that other story about a sleeping princess. That raven was turned to stone! You pity any poor sucker that might’ve ended up in that position. This outcome was adequate, for now. Perhaps it was best to venture outside, to attempt to find this beautiful queen. To be honest, it was a little exciting. You had always wondered how beautiful she was, since the novels always claimed they could never do her justice. But that's besides the point. Once meeting her, you then had to decide what your next move would be.
Keeping all that in mind, you climbed the spiraling stone staircases just barely lit by candles. You winced whenever you heard the squeak of a rat or spotted a rotting corpse of a forgotten prisoner still in chains. Quickening your pace until you reached a wooden door, and stepped into the sunlight. It was warm and delightful, the sun’s rays shining on your skin. You felt free. As of now, this was far from punishment. But knowing that you were sent here to be punished or even die, was what kept you from being completely at ease. You could almost just relax here in the calm and beauty of this garden–– key word, almost. Shrieking and many voices shattered your temporary peace, even scaring away the white doves that had flocked in the open courtyard.
Grumbling, you followed the sound of the commotion. It sounded like it was coming from over the high palace walls. There was one portion of the wall that was shorter than the rest, if you climbed onto the smooth edges of the railing by the stone steps, you could successfully scale onto the top of the wall where you decided to lounge about and spectate the action. On the other side of the wall, you could see a young man getting closer and closer, nervously waving at a large group giggling and following him. It was obvious that he was a little uncomfortable, and that he was trying to lose them without hurting their feelings by how he continued to smile even as he picked up the pace.
When his eyes landed on you, he appeared surprised, and as he walked the path he was getting closer and closer. Feeling pity for the lad, you sighed and stretched your arm down, to which he hesitated a moment before finally deciding to place his hand in yours. You heaved him up and slid down to the safe side of the wall, the palace side, just before his apparent fans could catch him. Their whining and complaining was amusing.
“Thank you…! You saved me!”
Oh, right, he was still here. You glanced over at the young man peering happily up at you with the brightest smile on his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly began to notice his features. Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, dressed head-to-toe in rags… No way––
“Ah, I know you!” He exclaimed, delighted as he took a step closer. “You’re my elder brother’s attendant! I’ve seen you around the palace countless times. You are always working so hard that I’ve never gotten a chance to properly meet you! Of course you must already know but my name is Neige, it’s truly so wonderful to finally talk like this with you!” He performed a small but polite bow. Such manners for a prince in rags. “I never knew you were so kind! Is there any way I can repay you?”
“Ah, no, there’s no need for that…” You studied his face, attempting to make sense of it all. If this Neige was Snow White, it did make total sense. His skin was flawless, it looked like a marshmallow, so pristine but soft. He was cherubic. His beauty was more of a one of innocence and cuteness, and it seemed the townsfolk noticed his looks judging by how they focused on his physical features instead of his attire. You force your gaze away. This was the prince who the Queen would try to kill. But there’s a chance it may be King in this version, because you’re fairly certain that Neige had just mentioned something about having an elder brother that you apparently worked for. “It was nothing.”
“Please, don’t be so modest! Your actions were selfless and heroic. Had it not been for you, I’m afraid I would’ve been stuck outside all day with no choice other than to interact with all those that followed me. And I couldn’t have that! I promised my brother that I would do my chores.” A sad frown appeared on his face as his gaze traveled back over to the wall, “Although I do regret having just left them without so much as a goodbye…”
So he was kind… Makes sense. Most princesses, or prince in this case, were kind-hearted souls that were far too naive or trusting and had the strangest ability to communicate with woodland creatures. However that last part worked, you weren’t entirely sure.
“The doves of the courtyard gathered by the well with me this morning! And we all made a wish! I, well… It's a bit embarrassing, but I wished for something truly special. And I believe that my wish may have come true!” A pretty pink blush made his cheeks rosy as he clasped his hands together, looking so truly content as he peered up at you.
“Is that so…?” Well, magical animal talking ability, check that off the list. He really was like the princess from the fairytale. But you didn’t like where this was going. You outgrew fairytales a long time ago, but when you read something so fantastical and magical in your innocent imaginative youth, it sticks with you. Perhaps that was a good thing, because even now you could recall the small details of the story.
In the beginning of the story, Snow White is cleaning the courtyard when she meets the doves at the well where she makes a wish to meet her true love. Not too long after, the prince appears on horseback, hearing the princess’ song that leads him to climb over the palace walls to get to her. When you got older, you quickly realized how creepy that actually was. The prince crept up on her like some sort of stalker, and essentially trespassed on private palace grounds. But that’s besides the point right now. The point is, Snow White made a wish to meet her true love which happened to be the prince. Well, right now, you have yet to see another so-called dashing prince or princess. There was just the courtyard and you were alone with Neige, and he was gazing up at you through his lashes and with a pretty smile that appeared too fondly. The Queen, or King, really needed to stop cooping up Prince Neige within the palace walls. It was dulling his sense towards social cues and common sense.
“Hey! What the hell are you doin’...?!”
Surprised at the sudden presence beside you, you looked to see another stranger. This one you couldn’t automatically connect to a role. It was a short young man with a cuteness that could possibly even rival the prince. He had such wide blue eyes and odd soft lavender curls that framed his face. Unlike you and Prince Neige, his outfit was of much finer detail which consisted of a white tunic and long dark blue sleeves from the shirt he wore underneath. A red cloak was draped over the shoulders of his small frame, the ends brushing against his simple pants and boots. But despite his fine clothing and adorable appearance, he spoke with such brashness, irked for whatever reason.
“Ah, you must be Epel! My brother speaks often about you! He says he sees great potential in you!” Neige interjected, oblivious to this Epel fellow’s irritation. Epel… the name didn’t ring a bell. You could accurately deduce what Neige’s role was based on his appearance and the fact that his name meant snow in French. But you still had no idea who Epel was supposed to be. Again, Neige bowed his head in polite greeting as he exclaimed, “Today must be my lucky day! Not only have I met you now, Epel, but I’ve also met–– Um…” He paused, turning to you and inquiring softly, “I’m sorry, I’m so excited that I’ve forgotten to ask your name.”
The lavender-haired boy quickly snatched your attention away from the prince, grabbing your cloak where your arm would be as he hissed in a whisper so as to not involve Neige. “Are you crazy? Talkin’ to the prince…! Vil is gonna fly off the handle!” Not-so-discreetly gesturing to the window right above them with his eyes darting to it and back to you, but not moving his head, so as to not alert the onlooker behind the glass.
You froze, not moving your head but your eyes moved up to where Epel had been glancing at. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely make out a tall and thin figure in purple standing at the large window, holding the red curtains open with both hands. They were watching, and just as you moved your head the tiniest bit to get a better look, you only caught a glimpse of a deep angered frown before the curtains were abruptly shut, barring you from seeing anymore. That could’ve only been the beautiful royal, the monarch in charge that sees Prince Neige as a rival. When you looked back at Neige, he was still smiling at you with his hands folded in front of him, patiently awaiting an answer. Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming.
“We gotta go, or Rook is gonna drag us back himself…!” Without even waiting for you to give Neige your name, Epel took your hand and ran like a bat out of hell. Making a beeline straight for an entrance to the palace, you attempted to keep up with him. He was surprisingly strong for someone so small.
Behind you, you heard, “W-Wait, I never got your name…!”
Well, that’s a crying shame. Focusing your attention on where you were heading, you began to lose track of all the twists and turns within these palace walls. Epel led you forward, he certainly knew where he was going. But you? You hadn’t a clue. That is, until after a few minutes, you arrived at a long hall where at the very end there were double doors already opened. The few soldiers standing guard paid no mind to you and the lavender-haired fellow, probably because in their eyes, you belonged here. And yet that couldn’t be further from the truth.
You felt so incredibly out of place as you stood on the lengthy blue carpet that stretched forward toward a small yet intricately designed throne of gold and jewels formed in the shape of a magnificent peacock with its feathered fanned out. But what was more entrancing than the priceless throne, was the person sitting atop it. Oh, how the novels did not lie, they truly could not do the monarch any justice in portraying their beauty. The King, who must’ve been Vil, could’ve been a world-famous model. His face looked like those perfect sculpted marble statues, it was the type of look that would incur the envious wrath of gods and goddesses in mythology. There was not a single blemish or flaw. Not even a single hair of his golden locks fading into lavender was out of place. The long purple robes under the longer black cloak flowing down his body, complimented the color of his amethyst eyes. Those eyes looked even more shiny than the golden crown perched atop his skull. You weren’t a simp but wow.
The King appeared less than pleased, it actually made you incredibly nervous when he bore a frown and silently beckoned you closer with a single curling movement of his index finger.
Walking past Epel who stood by the door, you took a deep breath as you recounted what knowledge you had on etiquette during this time period. Once you were a few feet in front of him, you began to kneel, when he spoke and caused you to freeze.
“Don’t.” Intense gaze glued to your form, he watched you carefully as he instructed, “Come closer.”
You slowly stepped forward, closer to him.
“Closer.”
Hesitating, you took another step so one foot was on the step in front of his throne.
“Closer.”
Pausing, you inched forward, now standing on the same elevation as the throne. Now you were just centimeters away from him, and it was putting you on edge. When he appeared seemingly satisfied, that’s when you finally kneeled in front of him. With a bowed head, a common sign of respect in customs with monarchies, you greeted simply, “Your Majesty.”
The King peered down at you, silent for a moment as you kept your head down and eyes glued to the ends of his purple robes and how his black cloak that matched yours, but his was much longer, pooled around his throne to look like a black void. After a few moments, you felt his hand at your chin, his slim fingers urging you to look up. When you did, he hummed, “Well, my lovely pet, have you had your fun with my little step-brother?” He gave a question, but it became obvious that he didn’t want an answer. At least not yet. This king must not be too fond of the prince. As his thumb stroked your chin and raised it so your head was almost at his knee, he continued slowly while gazing down at you, “You know that I loathe sharing, don’t you? So why would I share you with my step-brother, hm? Have you perhaps… begun to favor him over me?”
It struck you then that the royal must be an extremely envious person. Not only did they want to remain first in standing when it came to beauty, but he also wanted to monopolize people’s attention so that they may focus on him. Replying carefully, you spoke while keeping your eyes glued to his enchanting yet intimidating gaze, “Of course not, Your Majesty. It was merely a coincidence that I encountered him. I cannot be as easily swayed as the masses.” For a moment you hesitated, seeing that he seemed unconvinced as you proceeded, “... My loyalty to you cannot be broken by a prince in rags.”
After a few moments, the tension in the air evaporated as the king graced you with a smile that made your breath hitch. You had said the right thing. Tempted to glance at Epel for a possible clue on what to do next, you refrained and instead remained still as a statue when the king reached forward with his other hand to remove your hood. “Let me see your face, my retainer.” As soon as the hood was removed, he examined your face in the light. It took an incredible amount of calm to keep composed and not squirm in place under his intense scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he frowned and sighed, “I’ve been keeping you confined beneath the castle for far too long. You’re beginning to look ghastly, and I can’t be seen with someone beside me that’s less than appealing to look at.” Removing his hands from your face, he motioned for you to stand, which you did. “You’ve done enough. Getting rid of our guests and covering it up must’ve been challenging, especially for you to do it all on your own. This time, Rook will take over while you will be receiving enough sunlight to revitalize your complexion. Do not overdo it. Rook.”
Guests? Cover up? This wasn’t in the story. There wasn’t any time to fully process what you heard before you detected yet another voice just right beside your ear.
“Good day, petit corbeau!” You felt your soul leave your body for a single second when these words were said beside your ear by a voice, an extremely close and unfamiliar voice. When you jumped, startled, you noticed there was another young man literally only an inch behind you. When did he even get there? You didn’t even notice him until now! When you stepped to the side out of the way, you furrowed your eyebrows at his smile.
The young man was blonde, with hair styled into a ridiculous looking bob-cut but he somehow made it work as he wore a wide-brimmed brown hat with a black feather. Over his shoulders and back he wore a large hunter green cloth that wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf and extended over his back like a small cloak. Underneath, concealed by the cloth, was a dark tunic and black pants with a belt and knife at his hip. However, what unnerved you wasn’t the knife at his hip or the bow and quiver chock full of arrows on his back. It was his eyes.
His forest green eyes were glued to you, and he bore a wide and charming smile. “Ah, to see you without your hood and out of the undercroft, what a rare sight! Marvelous! I must thank you, Your Majesty, for making this possible! It is not everyday we see your dutiful, striking, mysterious little raven. It is truly a spectacle to behold! I will treasure this rare moment where I’ve not only heard you speak, but have seen your visage without being shrouded by shadows and concealed by your hood!”
You did not like this. The way he was looking at you as he spoke so dramatically made a shiver crawl up your spine. Yes, he spoke nothing but praise in such an honest tone and declaration, but there was something in his eyes. Something that placed you on edge as his smile turned slightly ominous and his eyes narrowed at you. There was a twinkle in his green eyes as he tilted his head at you inquisitively, as if sensing your unease without you even saying a word. This had to be the Rook fellow that Epel mentioned offhandedly, and now it made sense as to why he ran back so quickly just to avoid encountering him.
Much to your relief, Vil sighed and interjected without even standing from his throne. Furrowing his eyebrows, he scolded in an irked tone, “I didn’t summon you to pester my little retainer, Rook. Stress from you is not what my retainer needs right now. It causes wrinkles.”
“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Rook chuckled, obediently turning to fully face the royal as you stood stiffly beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two.
Behind you, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Epel quietly closing the doors once Vil gestured for him to do so. It seemed the king wanted privacy, he wished to say something not even the guards outside the thick wooden doors were allowed to hear. The only ones that would be witnesses to his words were you, Epel, and Rook. You had to wonder what was so secretive that he didn’t even want his soldiers stationed outside to hear, and why were you allowed to hear? Was it because you were supposedly in the role of his trusted retainer? Maybe it had something to do with that cover-up he mentioned just a short time ago.
The tension in the room was thick, it disturbed you and you can tell it bothered the short purple-haired young man too if his growing perturbed frown was anything to go by. Despite this, he took up the space beside you. The blonde with the bow, Rook, who you now were assuming to be a huntsman if his attire and weapons were any giveaway, continued to smile without much of a care. Rook was on the left, Epel was on the right, and you were in the center, and still on his throne was King Vil. With luck, you’ll be able to keep up this act. It wouldn’t do for a retainer to fail. It might cost you and be the slip-up that would put an end to this charade of survival.
“I’ve decided. Rook, the duties I normally give to my retainer will be passed onto you today. You’re much more suited for this job. It involves my little step-brother, Neige.” The way he said the prince’s name made it sound like it pained him just to utter it, like it burned his tongue just to mention him. But he continued. “It seems he’s been working hard at completing his chores, hm? He’s been begging for a day out, and he adores flowers so… Rook, you will take him far into the woods, a secluded meadow where he can pick as many wildflowers as his little heart desires.”
Once you processed his words, you froze. It dawned on you that it was happening, this was the moment in the story when the beautiful queen commanded her huntsman to murder the princess in the woods. Vil must’ve already consulted the magic mirror and was told that he was no longer the fairest in all the land. That title now officially belonged to Neige, but it wouldn’t for long if the king had anything to say about it.
The other two loyal and trusted by the king had no idea, as Epel appeared vaguely bored and disinterested while Rook seemed elated. “Of course! I’ll see to it that it is done, Your Majesty––!”
“I’m not finished.” Vil interrupted, frowning tersely as his gaze turned cold. Tapping his well-manicured nails against the armrest of his throne, his eyes narrowed and he leaned an inch forward while instructing, “There, you will kill him.”
The shock was immediately evident on the face of the two beside you. Epel, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, finally broke his silence with a small gasp as he moved to cover his mouth with one hand. But it was too late, everyone had already heard him and seen his stunned expression. And yet, no one seemed to really care. Everyone was far too engrossed in what was just said by the king.
Rook appeared just as confounded before disbelief took root, as if he didn’t even wish to believe his own two ears. Removing his hat, he held it to his chest and lowered his head respectfully as he placed a hesitant foot forward. “Your Majesty, our beautiful and lovely Vil, you can’t possibly mean–– our prince Neige…!”
“Silence!” Immediately standing from his seat, he scowled, the prince’s name only making his rage more bitter. And then, he said something unexpected, something off script and never in the story. Gesturing to you, he hissed, “My loyal retainer here could make six souls vanish without a trace, why can’t you do it with one mere prince? Must they do everything? Must I have to dirty my own hands? Hm?”
Lowering his head further, the huntsman replied quietly, somberly, his smile now gone. “Of course not, Your Majesty. Your delicate hands aren’t meant to be soiled…” It’s as you suspected. Rook stayed alive and was one of Vil’s closest servants because he was witty enough to think of something on the spot that was complimentary enough to appease the bitter royal. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the moment. For now, you were grateful you weren’t him. Some people who read the story of Snow White liked to theorize that the huntsman was murdered by the vicious queen for failing to assassinate the princess.
Vil was quiet, not completely calm judging by his sneer but he was composed enough not to say anything more. Standing tall, his gaze honed in on you and Epel, to which he spoke, “My loyal, diligent retainer, escort my successor out. I need to have a word with Rook, privately.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
#yandere#neige lubanche#neige leblanche#epel felmier#rook hunt#vil schoenheit#twisted wonderland#twst#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#twst writing#work in progress#damnation twst au
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Replaced MC AU
Authors Note: the amount of support I’m getting is insane and I am so thankful! I didn’t expect my first series to blow up like this! Comment if you would like to be added to the tag list (which is something I never expected to have) and of course, enjoy part four!!
TW: none really except MC and ??? Shit talking the brothers and royals
Part 1-Part 2-Part 3-Part 4(you are here)
Someone who feels the same way
??? POV
“Chef! There is someone sleeping in the alleyway next to the restaurant!” A demon said, “if you let homeless people just sleep outside people are going to stop eating here. This is a prestigious restaurant, not a homeless shelter.” The noble demon scoffed at the other
“I will go take care of it.” The chef sighed, grabbing his coat and umbrella from his office before exiting the restaurant and checking the alley beside it. Sure enough, there lays a boy, looking to be physically around the same age as the chef, and he looks like shit
“How long do you plan on sitting in the alley? Humans get sick easily.” The demon spoke, moving his umbrella to cover the soaked boy
“You gonna eat me?” the human asked, not even moving his head up to look at the demon
“Eat you? Ew.”
“Don’t mess with me, I know how demons are.” The chef shook his head, leaning against the wall across from MC
“If I was going to eat you I would have done so already. Aren’t you the precious little exchange student? Weird to see you without one of your guard dogs.” He scoffs as he mentions the seven lords
“Please don’t bring me back there. Who knows what they will do if they found out I was causing a noble demon trouble” MC sputtered, still not making eye contact with the mystery demon
“Ew.”
“Ew?”
“Those lords are as incompetent as the young prince who rules them.” The demon replied with a roll of his eyes “I’m Lawrence by the way. Why don’t you come into the restaurant and get cleaned up, the back room should have some spare clothes since yours are… gross”
“Are you sure your boss would be okay with that?”
“My boss? No, he won’t mind” Lawrence tosses his jacket at MC, still covering both of them with the umbrella
“If you’re sheltering me with an umbrella why do I need a jacket?”
“Put the hood up, hide your face and, since I wear this jacket often it should mask your scent as a human. A lot of noble demons are dining here, if you don’t want the lords knowing you’re here you best hide.” Lawrence explains, helping MC up off the ground
“Why are you helping me? You could have killed me at least five different times now”
“Because you looked pathetic. And I can’t have homeless people outside the restaurant, it will make it look… poor”
Small time skip
MCs POV, first person
I finished getting changed after successfully sneaking in… but now what? Sure I’m all cleaned up but was it all just to go out onto the streets again? Sure I could go to Purgatory Hall but who knows if they have been manipulated by Amelia too. I need to get a job and find a place to stay, even if I just hotel jump until the end of my time here…
“The uniform looks good on you.” A voice spoke from the door behind me “ready to get working?”
“What? Your… offering me a job here? But how will I go unnoticed!? And I’m a human, so won’t the demons be inclined to avoid this place with me working here!?” I ask, shocked at the sudden declaration that he was giving me a job
“An illusion spell, I put it in the uniform before you get changed. To me and any other demon you look and smell like a demon. No one will recognize you like this.” Lawrence explained, it’s as if he was prepared for this
“Oh… well I guess that makes sense, but why offer me a job? This just doesn’t seem right, you are a demon correct? Why help a useless human this much?” I asked, not fully trusting in this random demons intentions
“You ask so many questions, it’s annoying. I just felt like it, that’s all. This is my restaurant so I can give anyone I please a job.”
“Your restaurant!? You own this place!? The lords came to eat here many times, saying this was the fanciest restaurant in the Devildom!”
“If I could ban them from coming here I would. I had to work overtime any night you all came. That gluttony demon is a real problem for any restaurant he comes to. And don’t get me started on that prideful fuck, he can rot for all I care, he had the gall to tell me I was being too conservative with the serving sizes, at my own damn restaurant” Lawrence rants on and on, it was almost comforting to find someone who hates them as much as I do now “the only tolerable one is the young lords butler, at least he seems to have a shred of respect, unlike the other eight. Not even the prince can respect other people enough to not shout everything he says like he is the most important being in the three worlds”
“You seem to really hate them, don’t you?” I chuckle a bit at his tangent, not expecting someone who looks and acts like he does to go on such a heated rant
“Hate is such a… gentle word. I loathe them, they think they are the best demons ever because one of them was born into power and the other seven used to be angels. Well that doesn’t mean shit in the long run, and they will learn that sooner or later when their little exchange program backfires and the Celestial Realm fucks over both the Devildom and the human realm by extension. If there is one thing I loathe more than the nobles here in the Devildom, it’s the celestial realm” he sighs “we have gotten off topic, do you want the job or not? I live in a two bedroom apartment above the restaurant that you may stay in until you have made enough money to get your own place out until the exchange year comes to an end. Truthfully it would be foolish of you to refuse” he was right, it would be incredibly stupid to turn down this offer.
Tag list; @t-misaki @melpomenelurks @gallantys @skei2p @terodactu @atomsminecraft @cutest-tenshi
#obey me#obey me angst#replaced mc#obey me replaced au#obey me oc#obey me mc#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon#obey me solomon#obey me luke
251 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling
⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence
♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.
♡ word count: 5,310
⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧
a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡( ε:)
There’s a rose on your vanity.
The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!
Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.
Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.
“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”
Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.
A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.
“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”
Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.
“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”
When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.
“Are ya sure?”
“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”
She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”
“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”
After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.
“Promise ya’ll play nice?”
An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.
“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.
“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”
Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.
“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”
A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.
“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.
Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.
As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.
You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.
“Hey, I’m heading out!”
“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”
“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.
“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”
Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.
“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”
“You too!”
His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.
“Hi Howdy.”
“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.
“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.
Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.
When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.
The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.
Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.
With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.
“Mx.”
Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.
“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”
The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.
It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.
Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.
When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.
And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.
“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”
The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.
“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.
Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.
“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”
Don't have much of a choice, do I?
“I’d love to.”
Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.
Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.
“Do you remember the night we met?”
The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.
“How could I forget?”
The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.
And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.
As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.
“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”
Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.
“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"
He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.
"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"
The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.
"It's alright, Barnaby."
The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.
"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.
"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"
"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."
You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.
"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."
Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.
"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."
Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.
"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."
Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.
“I knew because of your eyes.”
The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.
“Pardon?”
“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.
“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”
It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.
He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.
“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”
True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.
There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.
It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.
The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.
Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.
“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”
The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.
“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”
“I see…”
He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.
“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”
Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.
“A neck?”
At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?
“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”
Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.
Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.
“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."
No.
“Wh– what? Settle down how?”
“To get married, silly.”
You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!
“Get married? You mean– to me?!”
“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”
You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.
“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”
Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.
“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”
That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.
“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.
Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.
“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"
The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.
"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"
"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”
You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.
“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”
All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.
Oh shit.
The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.
You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.
“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”
Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.
“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”
With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.
It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.
Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.
#🐇 penned#🌈🖼️ wh#feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic#welcome home#welcome home x reader#wally darling x reader#x reader#reader-insert#yandere x reader#i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine#cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like#so he can be whatever i need him to be#yandere wally darling#yandere wally darling x reader#welcome home mob au#clownsuu
411 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hit’s 1K 2K DTIYS!
Edit*** WE JUMPED SO FAST TO 2K?!? My mind is blown on how many of you guys just showed up. For 2K I’m going to use the same art for my 1K to save me some time (I also just love the goobers)
Same rules and outline applies to the 2K as before, so have fun guys!
There’s so many of you guys now, it’s crazy! So to celebrate the milestone I have a DTIYS!
You guys also get a sneak peak at spitfire Hana and her design for the AU (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Rules:
• the image above is the outline but if you want to change things like “poses” “outfits” “colors” etc. then you’re welcome too!
• if you’re a writer or not an artist, other submissions for the dtiys will be just as appreciated
• there’s no deadline, this is just something fun for followers to participate in if they want too
• if you post anything please use #hits2kdtiys and or #hitsdtiys so that I see it. You can also tag me directly too!
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
With that said, have fun and thanks guys for 2K! Here’s a song I listened too while making this DTIYS ⬇️
#geez it’s still weird to think there’s that many of you guys looking at my silly little posts (*≧∀≦*)#hits2kdtiys#hitsdtiys#dtiys#rottmnt dtiys#my art#rottmnt oc#donnie x oc#tmnt x oc#rottmnt x oc#tmnt hana#hanashi#tmnt art#rottmnt donatello#HD#rottmnt donnie#tmnt spitfire au#tmnt spitfire#rottmnt spitfire#rottmnt spitfire au#rottmnt#tmnt#rise tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles
170 notes
·
View notes
Text
Before I Leave You (Pt.64)
(Sneek Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”
Tags: Angst, Blood, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort.
W/c: 7.0k
A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter will be a little shorter than usual after such a long weight but i literally could not finish the second half of it in time. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. idk when that will change, this might just be the new reality for me 😭 when i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!
Previous part - Masterlist - First part
~-~
Chapter 64 Sneak Peak: Pawn and King
The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old streetlamp lights punctuate the darkness. But through it there are husks of metal rising like soldiers. The sky orange behind them from the distant lights of the city,
Jin’s car is there. Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as his headlights roll over it. And then further in the darkness maybe 50 feet away, Jimin's car. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.
You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine, casting everything, the river, and this building into a grey-slanted light.
You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in it. Tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.
“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out. He stares at it.
"Hobi," he looks up at your face, and you flick the safety off. "Sink or swim?"
His hand finds yours. "Swim."
You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him. squeezing it once then letting it go. You don’t waste another second arguing. "Stay behind me."
You head off following the disturbed dust, Hobi trailing behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.
He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe. He's spent the last few months fixating on it- and you of course too. Too fixated to notice the small things that he sees plainly right now. There are facts here that Hobi has not noticed.
The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be the only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin? But the way you walk; completely silent as you transfer your weight from one foot to the other, is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly.
It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms, like a dancer's ballet fingers. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger and index finger along the barrel.
Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Jimin. Hobi had almost forgotten about it. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? there are some things that you never forget, and trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are- but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you, you do not have a tell.
Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.
That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you. You've known he shouldn't since you picked up Jin's call.
Jimin is easy to find if only because he’s sitting in one of those puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet whimper when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway and Your hand on the gun goes slack
“Minnie!” you forget the gun and run to him, tucking it back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding water-dark fabric. Not water- blood.
Hobi stays there, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor, bubbling. Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The little bit of blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, a puddle of it. Jin is nowhere to be found.
Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek.
“Hey pup” he murmurs, he laughs a little, half delirious with pain. He flinches like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs, "did you bring Tae?”
You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”
Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed, pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.
“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her that I’m sorry. Could you-" jimin's coughs overtake him, and fresh blood drips down the tips of his fingers, finding home in the soil below.
"Could you tell her for me?”
Coming Saturday December 9th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)
#bts x reader#bts mafia au#bts a/b/o#bts fluff#bts poly au#bts polyamory au#bts omegaverse au#bts gang au#bts au#bts#taehyung x reader#hoseok x reader#namjoon x reader#bts smut#bts hurt/comfort#bts d/s#bts omegaverse#kim taehyung smut#taehyung x y/n#park jimin x reader#bts assassin au#bts angst#bts imagines#bts fic
197 notes
·
View notes
Text
Together Again | JJK *part 1*
Pairings: Jungkook/Reader
Genre: Mature themes. Romance. Angst. Arranged marriage AU. Childhood best friends to lovers AU.
Warnings: cheating, reader is a rope bunny (ALLEGEDLY), hard!dom JK, switch!reader, reader likes to be slutted out, drunken sex, unplanned pregnancy(this is in the end dw😅), cunnilingus, oral (both receiving), fighting (talk shit get hit) daddy!kink, praise!kink, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling. Just all around nasty y’all.
Summary: After reader finds her long-term boyfriend in bed with their mutual friend. She moves back into her family home, but under one condition. She has to marry her childhood friend that has been arranged since their childhood. For a wedding gift they go to a mountainous getaway with a group of friends, reader is told that ex and mutual friend get invited, so reader and jk decide to pretend not to know each other to avoid any confusion or miscommunication.
Authors note: Hi! Sorry it’s so late but here it is. I hope you guys enjoy. I’m making this into a series. I feel like it’s a little unprofessional not to have a masterlist but I’m working on that too. Just bare with me please in new to this lol. Also feel free to ask me any questions, or express your honest opinions Im all ears good or bad. Should I make a tag list?
——————————————————————
‘How the fuck did I get here’
You thought as you sat in you car, filled with you things. You had just left the home YOU bought after catching your boyfriend Yunwoo cheating one you.. With your supposedly best friend. Sitting there thinking, you should’ve saw the signs. They were there right in front of your face. You felt like a fool. Luckily you’ve always kept a cool head, or else you would’ve done something you’d regret. You honestly wished you did. You wanted them to hurt just as much as they hurt you, but you knew if wouldn’t change anything so why stress yourself out about it. But silence is the best way to get under someone’s skin isn’t it. No matter how much he cried and apologized. You didn’t turn back, you’ll never go back to him. That a promise you made to yourself on you journey back home.
Earlier that day:
“Hey y/n what can I get you” the barista, you’ve gotten to know over the years asks, “Let me have my usual please Janine, oh! And can you serve it really hot please, thank you.” You were making you your normal daily rounds that day, which normally started out with a hot coffee at your favorite cafe when you realized you forgot you wallet back at the house. “Ah actually scratch that. I seem to have left my wallet at home.” You say, making the sudden realization. “You know what don’t walruses about it it’s on the house,” Janine says with a smile. “That you so much I appreciate the generosity, but I have to go back home anyway. I’ll come back and pay for the coffee.” You just couldn’t shake this strange feeling telling you to go back home. Your boyfriend of 5 years seemed was acting strange this morning. Being overly sweet all of a sudden, waking you up, making you breakfast. It just seemed like he was trying to get you out of the house.
when you pull into the driveway you see his car still out front, but you didn’t find that as strange as you best friend, Cristal car along side his. “Strange,” you say to yourself as you pull into the driveway. She never texted that she was coming over, but you check you phone to be safe. But you still can’t shake the uneasy feeling you have in your gut that something fishy is going on inside your home without you knowing. The calm rational you is telling you to just walk in your home as if it’s nothing, but the bad bitch part of you is telling you to unlock your fence and sneak in though the back door. So that’s just what you do. As you’re sneaking inside your house you notice clothes spread all across you living room floor training up the stairs to your bedroom. “Oh hell nah I know these motherfuckers ain’t- okay.” You whisper to yourself as you tiptoe up the stairs.
As you reach your bedroom you hear the faint sound of laughter behind the door. You decide to listen in on the conversation before letting your presence known. “Why don’t you just leave her already. She can’t make you happy the way I do.” You hear Cristal say. “I’m just waiting for the right time Cristal you know how she can be. She so clingy, she acts like she can’t live without me,” Yunwoo explains to Cristal. You scoff to yourself as head this. “Mmcht yeah right like this isn’t my house you’re freeloading it.” You number to yourself as you lean in closer to get a better listen. No one knew that you were he one that made all the money between you two. Yunwoo didn’t have a job and was too embarrée to move back in with his parents after he dropped out of college. So you bought this home for the both of you to stay in. You on the other hand were and heiress to one of the most biggest, prestigious designing companies in the world. In other words you’re the 1 percent of the q percent. But you’ve always kept it a secret, because it is taboo to mention your wealth in front of other people who are less fortunate.
“well I just don’t see how it’s right to keep pretending and leading her on like this. Im starting to get annoyed just looking at her. She’s so pathetic.” At this point you e already opened the door. They look at you in shock to see you home this early. “Y/n-“ you hold up your hand. Not trying to hear a single word coming out of yunwoo’s mouth, already disgusted. You don’t speak of give them the time of day. Of course you have lots to say, say you listened to their conversation you realized that these people were below you. These people betrayed your trust, and defiled your home. They’re worth less than the dirt on a dog’s paw. And what do you look like speaking to those who aren’t even worthy enough to lick the dirt off of your dogs feet? “Y/n please let’s talk about this like adults.” Yunwoo pleads. All you can do is scoff ass you go around the room and gather your things.
“Yunwoo baby just let her go. You don’t need something like that anyways. She’s not worth the time,” Cristal says picking through her nails. “You know what Cristal you’re right. I don’t need this. I deserve better and y/n baby you can’t give that to me. I’m on to better things in life. While you’re going to be stuck a sad, lonely, bitter, insignificant, bitch no one can stand. So go on. Leave.” Yunwoo, who has more than audacity says to you. You, the classy person you are smile at him, gather your clothes, jewelry, and dog walk away. Leaving everything behind.
#bts jk#bts ff#btsedit#jung hoseok#kim najoon#kim soekjin#kim taehyung#park jimjn#bts army#jungkook x reader#cheating au#childhood friends au#jungkook fanfic#fanfic#friends to lovers#bts au#jungkook#jungkook smut#bts smut
657 notes
·
View notes
Text
Raincheck
woozi x fem!reader | seventeen ff.
[one-shot]
!!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here }
tags: fluff
cw: hogwarts!au, slytherin!woozi, prefect!woozi, sly gf testing jihoon's nerves lol, teasing, couch cuddles, you're different houses with jihoon, established relationship, fluff!
note: this is an old piece I wrote! just wanted to share it here as well :3
! also, not that comfy w/ 2nd POV, tho hope 3rd POV is good for y'all ♡
word count: 1.1k
do not repost © yutasbimil (2018)
The rain pouring hard outside can't seem to be heard well in the Slytherin common room.
The only thing that can be heard from the dimly lit room was the mild crackling embers by the fireplace, and the blond Slytherin humming along as he got himself comfortable on the couch.
Maybe it is actually the resounding, non-stop downpour outside or is it that Jihoon got too engrossed in a book he got from the Restricted Section that got him too preoccupied, that he didn’t even notice someone creeping into him.
"What are you doing here?" He says, almost a hiss at the figure of the person he's so familiar with.
He almost flinched at the sudden presence, as if she apparated in front of him. His voice reverberates a bit too uncomfortably due to the lack of people occupying the room, it's as if both their breathing echoes along the droplets of rain.
Y/n just comes in and sneaks into the Slytherin common room as if it's her usual thing— quite a common… room occurrence to put that pun lamely out of the box.
Well, it might as well be, but it isn't as settling for the older male as she's so casual about it.
His eyebrows remained knitted together, looking at the girl standing before him. He was so sure that everyone was out since there are still classes on-going...
"Y/n, seriously, this is not the time that..."
She shushes him quickly. Not even bothering about the daggers he's shooting at her as she quickly makes herself comfortable on the couch.
This is definitely not the time I am in a particular mood to see my girlfriend busting into another house’s territory. Let alone her breaking the rules.
‘Rules are meant to be broken,’ a smug tone rings in his ears. Jihoon could already hear her mischievous lips saying those exact words to retort to him.
He remains his glance over her, following her every move like a hawk hunting for its prey. He suppressed a sigh. Even seeing her in her pajama pants, feeling way too comfortable and home-y to be even in a different house common room.
Jihoon just grips on the book at hand and then settled to place it on the table nearby.
“Come on. I’m asking you. Answer me,” he pressed with a tone full of authority.
But she gave no flying broomsticks about it.
“How bossy,” she snickers, finally talking after being silent at Jihoon.
He just glares at her.
“Come on. Jun told me how to get in… And I know things around here already.” She says nonchalantly, as if it’s gonna convince him. He just puffs, way too distracted to even go back to the book he’s reading.
He stares right at her.
“Have you even forgotten about that ‘raincheck’ we talked about, Ji?” she slightly tilts her head sideways, then puts her lips into a thin line. “Earlier? …this week?”
More staring.
“You told me? Because you were busy and…” She bits her lip, necessarily pausing to give time for him to put the puzzle pieces together, but he’s just left with more pieces. Y/n suppresses a huff. “Nothing…?”
She crosses her arms when Jihoon looked more confused than he already is with handling plants in their Herbology classes. And FYI, he got an E on his O.W.L.S. result.
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says in defeat. Y/n only nods absentmindedly, leaning in close to him to remind him of some things.
“You told me that I can come by this week since your schedule’s more free, and that if I can come by at my convenience… I can then spend time together with you in the dorms...” she says, as if laying out a parchment of proof for him to remember. Exams might’ve taken a huge toll on his brain power hence being so absentminded.
Jihoon goes back to his stern look at her, as if he really can’t trace back on anything that he might possibly said.
Y/n slumps her shoulders yet again.
“At least look like you’re happy to see me.” Y/n cooed, gesturing a bit of affection to trickle out of the male’s sharp expression.
Finally, Jihoon’s features soften.
Okay, he does remember some of it coming off his lips, but I didn’t mean it in a sense you barging in here like a mad woman… He holds back a sigh.
“Well, I am, but still…” He looks away for a moment, worrying his lower lip. Being a prefect he is… he’s also bothered of course. She might get in trouble. Not on my watch that she’ll get away with it, that is.
“Stop worrying too much, and let me be…” She says in retort, automatic as if reading his mind. But that’s full of guts for her to express. “Besides, the seniors know me too well. I assure you I am safe here.” She stretches a bit, and even gets comfortable by the toasty fire nearby. It contrasts with the cold stares the older male is giving her, along with the cold weather cooping them inside.
He rolls his eyes at her, letting out a chuckle.
“This is why you get issued on how much of a Slytherin you are.”
“And do you think I care, Oppa?” Y/n sat right up at that, then pouts her lips, playing with the ends of her sleeves. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing though.”
“Like I said, so Slytherin-like of you.”
Y/n emits a soft laugh at that, standing up to even do a curtsy for him. “Thank you, my good Sir.”
It remained quiet after a while.
Even as she gives him a smirk, she still gets silence from the older male. The coldness surrounding them reflects the feeling like the foggy glassed walls enrapturing the muddled stares between them. It’s a distinct type of tension, no words are needed to be exchanged to reveal it.
Y/n shakes her head lightly, perking a brow at him followed by a cheeky smile. “So that means to say I am welcome here anytime then, huh?”
That finally got a reaction from him.
“Unbelievable.”
“Dude , you’ve been seeing bizarre, floating things and disappearing objects on and off for almost two decades,” she throws her hands high, then gesturing at him and to herself, “and you do not believe in an enchanted lady like me?”
“I do agree with the ‘enchanted lady’ part.” He responds and then clears his throat.
Jihoon avoids his gaze as he begins to feel he’s letting himself loose. He shrugs off the blush across his ears and cheeks with a question he had been throwing at the younger.
“What actually brings you here, Y/n?”
She laughs at that, putting both her hands behind her. “Oh, come on, babe. No need to sound so casual.” Y/n smiles.
He just sounded stiff there at his probe.
She pats him on the head. “Lighten up a bit.”
In these instances, he begins to question if they really switched houses. He gets quieter and curious-er whenever she’s around, and her being the sneaky and more of the talker between them.
“I will, now that I got you here.”
Without a word, Y/n envelopes Jihoon in her arms, giving him a light peck on the side of his face. Jihoon wraps his arms around her as he kisses the top of her head.
He breathes in her scent, feeling her legs wrap around his. Jihoon stares at her. “You missed me too much, huh?”
Y/n just warmly beams, nodding in response.
Jihoon then puts a stray hair of hers behind her ear, tucking more of her hair behind her jumper. He leans closer to her again, seeping in more of her warmth.
She scrunches her nose at that, with Jihoon’s eyes forming into light crescents as both of them are immersed into each other’s world again.
They just let the sound of the loud pouring rain seep into them, letting the warmth of each other be enough to ease the coldness they feel.
“What are the odds to have both our classes cancelled, huh?” Jihoon asks after a while, content as the sound of the rain is still evident outside. Y/n finally has done her explaining to him.
“And what better way to spend it like this then.” She leans more on his chest, breathing in his fresh scent with ease as she felt vibrations from him as he lets out a chuckle.
“It does feel nice…” he says, more of a thought out loud.
“And come on, champ, let’s not use our spare time thinking about that and just spend it wisely instead.” she prompts with a pat on his shoulder, scootching closer till they’re no longer hair strands apart. So clingy.
“I’m just saying.” Jihoon moves his arm above the shoulder, playing bits of her hair.
She feels his shoulders relaxing as he heaves in a deep breath.
It feels nice here, it gets more comfortable as time passes, she thought, closing her eyes.
Like home.
She lets the silence envelop them, a smile slowly forming a similar curve on both their lips.
Maybe she does belong here after all.
She accepts her Slytherin side more so in these instances.
And imagine if they were in the same house though… She can get all the time she needs and wants to have him at arm’s length and look after him.
But for now, she can manage very well to slither in their dorm to her convenience.
※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※
#woozi#lee jihoon#seventeen#svt#woozi fluff#woozi x reader#slytherin!woozi#hogwarts!au#kpop imagine#fanfic#enjeiwrites
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
i'll tell her you stopped by
happy birthday to one of the most talented, intelligent, hard-working people on this planet <3 kezie it is such a treat to get to be your friend and i’m so so glad we met and im just so lucky you picked me! you’re amazing and i hope you have the best birthday ever bc i know you deserve it :)
so, obviously, this one goes out to @keziahcore / @winterrrnight bc i love you so so much
summary: rafe just wants to hangout while you study- is that really a crime? (aka: three times he tried to sneak in while you were studying, and the one time he succeeded... kind of)
pairing: soft!rafe x fem!reader
wc: 1.5k
tags/warnings: soft!rafe (bc ik how much you're a sucker for it kez ;)), highschool!au, established relationship, not much else? idk one mention of teen pregnancy (it's just mentioned, it doesn't actually happen lol) so stay safe out there y'all
a/n: this is doubling as my day seven for obx week bc it is a 3 times/1 time but i'm posting a lil early bc it's my girls birthday :)
masterlists // nav
requests
join my taglist here
One
The first time Rafe tried to sneak in to see you, you were studying in your room. Headphones in, you were absolutely dead to the world as your boyfriend took the classic approach of throwing small rocks up to your window, the stones dinging off the glass repeatedly with no notice from you. He tries calling, again, but your phone is still on silent. You didn't want any distractions- as much as you would have loved to see him, you were busy.
After about ten minutes Rafe is startled by the back door to your home opening, jumping back from the sudden sound.
"Rafe, you gotta go, buddy. You'll distract her. Head home." Your dad says, gesturing to the side of the house for him to go around.
"Yes sir. I, uh, I'll go." Rafe nods at him, giving him a quick salute before quickly heading for the gate.
Your dad sighs with a fond smile on his face, shaking his head as he closes the door again and locking it behind himself.
Two
The second time, a few days later, Rafe was coming to your house with a better plan. Making noise wasn't an option, so he had to be extra careful as he scaled the siding of the back porch, trying to get up onto the roof to reach your window. You shared fond memories of climbing out when he was over, when you weren't busy with exams, sitting on the shingles and looking up at the stars and out at the vast and infinite ocean. However, Rafe had never tried to reach your window from below before.
He made it up, just barely after almost falling no less than three times. He brushed off his knees and stood up, creeping past your parent's window towards yours. He can see you now, your room dimly lit with the flashes from Gilmore Girls playing on your TV and a candle flickering next to your bed as you sit there reading. He smiles to himself, almost there when he hears a window sliding open behind him. "Rafe, honey, is that you? It's late." Your mom whispers and he silently curses himself, quickly turning back to face her as she leans over the window's ledge.
"Hi Mrs. Y/L/N. How are you?" He asks, awkwardly glancing over his shoulder towards your window again.
"I'm well, Dear, but it's too late for you to stop by. Y/N has a test early in the morning, and she needs to focus right now." She smiles sympathetically at him. "I'm sorry."
"No, no, of course. I'll go home." Rafe nods, giving her a quick wave and watching his step as he heads back to the pillar he climbed up from.
"Hey, no, don't climb down that way. You'll fall and break your neck, come in and use the door." Your mom chuckles, stepping back so he can fit inside the window of her room.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you." He says, looking toward the light seeping through your window one more time before climbing in to follow your mom down to the front door.
"I'll tell her you stopped by in the morning." Your mom nods at him, gently closing the door behind him as he says a quick thank you.
Three
Maybe Rafe had been overcomplicating his break-in attempts. He realized as he drove home that night that night was that the one thing he hadn't tried, was using the door. Well, the back door. Which is why he was determined this time for his plan to work. Especially since your parents wouldn't be home. Although, they had told you not to have anyone over.
You had told him earlier in the day that you would be busy that night, and he knew that just meant you had homework. No harm in him joining you, he swore to himself that he would just be silent company, he was more than happy to watch Gilmore Girls again while you went over readings and notes from earlier in the week.
At this point, he knows where to step on your back deck in order to not make a sound. Or, that's what he thought. The light is on in the kitchen, and it's about eleven o'clock- no one should be up except for you anyway. With the first step he took onto the deck, the board creaked and his eyes flew up to the kitchen window to double confirm to himself there was no one there, but he was unlucky today. He makes solid eye contact with your big sister, now standing in the kitchen with a mug in her hand. Your parents must have asked her to stay with you while they were away- despite you being far too old for a babysitter.
There's a solid three seconds of eye contact before Rafe or your sister make a move, but it happens all at once when she breaks his gaze to look at the door, seeing it was unlocked. She looks back at him, and in a split second Rafe is bolting for the door as your sister drops her mug in the sink and sprints for the door, reaching it and turning the lock right as Rafe grabs the handle.
Through the glass she laughs quietly at him, shrugging and mouthing 'too slow' to your boyfriend on the other side of the window.
"Come on, this isn't funny." Rafe groans, pulling at the handle hopelessly.
"I can't let you in. I promised my parents, sorry." She shakes her head with a slight laugh.
"Please? I promise I won't distract her. I won't tell them. Come on." He begs, voice muffled by the pane of glass between them.
She shakes her head again. "Nope, she's not getting pregnant under my supervision. Not happening. Go home, she'll see you tomorrow."
"Ugh, fine. You're no fun, I get it." Rafe raises his hands defensively, stepping back from the door.
"Boohoo, Rafe. Go throw yourself a pity party at Tannyhill." Your sister mocks him, rolling her eyes with a smile and closing the curtain over the door as he sulks away back through the yard.
One
Rafe was so caught up in the idea of a romantic surprise to visit you late at night, throwing pebbles at your window or climbing up to it and letting himself in, even overlooking the idea that hearing someone walk in the back door when you're meant to be home alone may scare the life out of you. Another thing he hadn't tried was just asking you.
"Hey, can I come over later?" He asks you, walking you from his car up to the school.
You look up at him, about to nod before you think about it. "Well, I'd like to hang out but I think I should get ahead on my chem homework." You resign to answering, not pleased with it either.
"We can study together, like a date. Come on, it'll be fun." Rafe insists, slotting his hand into your free one.
"That's what I'm afraid of." You giggle, squeezing his hand gently and swinging them between you. "Studying isn't supposed to be fun, it's supposed to be productive."
"I can be productive." Rafe nods, smiling at you smugly.
You squint at him, unsure of how true that is. You give in anyway. "Okay, fine. I'll unlock the door for you."
"Yes! Thank you, it'll be good. I promise you won't regret it." Rafe smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek before dropping your hand to open the front doors of the school for you.
"I better not." You laugh, shaking your head at him as you pass him in the doorway.
That night, you crept downstairs after your parents had gone to sleep, and as promised, unlocked the front door. Nonchalantly, you walk into the kitchen to make a cup of tea while you wait for Rafe to arrive.
Rafe was already outside, having parked down the block and watching from behind the neighbour's fence to see when your silhouette would come down the stairs and up to the door, remaining only for a few moments before turning and walking towards the kitchen. He gives you a moment before throwing his backpack over his shoulders, and standing up straight ready to head up to the door.
You're just pouring your tea when you hear the front door crack open, quickly turning to go meet Rafe at the door so you can head straight upstairs- curbing the risk of your parents seeing him.
Rafe slowly, delicately closes the door behind him as you walk up, eyes drawn to the small handful of flowers he holds- freshly picked from the neighbour's garden. Your cheeks burn as he holds them out to you, smiling as you take them silently before gesturing for him to follow you upstairs.
Your mother let her book fall into her lap as she listened to hushed giggles and whispers coming down the hall, quieting as they faded away towards your room. She smiled to herself and shook her head, lifting the paper back up once more to continue from right where she left off.
taglist: @bookishbabyyy, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @lovelyxtommy, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn,
#rafe obx#rafe imagine#rafe x reader#rafe cameron fluff#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#rafe fic#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron#outerbanks rafe#obx x reader#obx imagine#obx#obx fic#obx netflix#obx fanfiction#outer banks
373 notes
·
View notes
Text
thinking abt fic ideas as someone who can’t write is painful…. like. i’m obsessed w modern aus rn
(i have a few mutuals that write so if you guys wanna……….. 👀 take inspiration from this…… 👀 tag me so i can read it !!)
Lance and Hunk work at a library and like to people watch, guessing what genres they like to read. a grunge/punk guy with the worst RBF walks in and they’re really surprised to see he’s checking out classic romance literature.
idk something with public transportation? like they take the same train/bus/subway every day but they never actually talk— just eyes that meet occasionally and a polite smile but nothing more. until one day, the other guy just.. stops showing up? and Lance is pretty bummed but what can he do? (and then he sees a familiar mop of black hair at the grocery store or a café or something and is like “!! it’s you!!”)
The trio go out to see the next installment of their favorite movie series, but Lance keeps sneaking out of the theater to buy more snacks (and definitely not to talk to the hot guy running the concession stand)
Keith works at a convenience store/gas station and this tall, beautiful man comes in occasionally, but no matter what he buys, he always always always gets a bag of candy that just so happens to be Keith’s favorite too— he always has a bag at his station so he can snack on it throughout his shift. One day, the man is in line without the candy and he honestly looks like shit— he’s definitely not his usual, happy self. Keith asks about the candy. The man replies, “Oh, i couldn’t find any today... You guys must be out.” So Keith gives him a bag from his stash. “You look like you need it more than me.”
Lance goes to the campus library to check out books for his literature class, but every single time, without fail, someone else has taken the last copy. “What do you mean someone else checked out the last copy?? Who??” “That guy.” *insert Keith* (it would be funnier if Keith isn’t even reading them for class, he’s just reading classic literature for funsies)
Lance checks out a novel from the library and there’s an envelope inside with a name written neatly on the front of it. it looks like it’s important so he resolves to find and return the envelope to K. Kogane, whoever that is (another library one?? yeah sorry idc i love public libraries and books and love stories . sue me.)
Keith is a barber/hairdresser and Lance’s regular stylist isn’t available so he’s stuck with Keith -OR- Lance takes his nephew to get his hair cut and Keith looks kinda scary but he’s actually?? really good with kids?? (insert mullet joke here)
Keith meets Pidge’s friends from a different class. Keith is super into Pidge’s hot, tall friend but is discouraged from acting on it because he’s constantly glued to Hunk’s side and making comments like “this is why I love you, Hunky” and (wrongfully) assumes they’re dating (but Lance is just that kind of guy! yk! he says “ily” to his friends all the time!)
bartender Keith is so good but think abt bartender Lance……… yeah….. need i say more??
#ao3#fan fiction#fan fic ideas#klance#voltron#vld#keith kogane#lance mcclain#lol#blorbo#blorbo from my shows#klance fic#seriously though#if you guys write abt any of these i want to know
76 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii If you still take requests for bnha and you feel comfortable can I request yandere? Villain Deku (or normal if you want) or toga you can choose with a shy timid cute s/o? Sorry I just need fluff in my life (I know yandere isn’t fluffy but I’m not the greatest at requesting 😅)
I can do an evil Deku! I've always liked that au tbh!
Pairing: Villain!Deku x Fem!Reader
Tags: possessiveness, obsession, forced kiss, confession, forced cuddles, injuries, yandere Deku
A/N: Villian Deku is one of my fav aus of all time. So much potential for this cute, happy guy to just be... fucked up.
Deku can't stop staring at you from the moment he meets you
He's constantly finding an excuse to be by your side
At first it was cute, he was like a little puppy following you around and hanging onto your every word
He was very protective of you and would always look for you on field missions
Really wanted to get the same missions as you but sadly he couldn't
Texted you a lot when you were apart which is the first time you noticed things going wrong
He seemed jealous of the heroes you partnered up with, even if they were his friends
Was very touchy with you when you saw each other again
Looked you over like you were a pet he was checking for injuries
He asked a lot of questions about who you were hanging out with
Would make an active effort to sit closer to you, his smiles are still the same, his cheerfully tone too, but there's something about his eyes that makes him more... unsettling
Has a separate book that he takes notes about you in, like his notebook about heroes, just as detailed
Will and has caused more damage then necessary and sometimes injured himself just so you would dote on him
Injured you too on occasion but he always says that it's because his powers are hard to get a hang off
Starts to get more demanding of you time and blows up when you can't hang out with him
His grip can sometimes get too tight, resulting in bruises and injuries
He's very apologetic and even panicking about them, insisting on you staying here so he can make you feel better instead of going with others
Starts sneaking into your room at night
He knows he isn't supposed to be there but he just wants to make sure you're doing ok
You squirming away from him makes no difference, he's much stronger then you are, besides he won't do anything bad, he just wants to cuddle with his crush
Admitting that he's in love with you is a little embarrassing but maybe now you'll start to see why he's doing the things he's doing and you can return his feelings now that you know of them
Smothers you in kisses, lots of them
Shy about kissing you on the lips but might as well, you'll be dating from this point on anyways so there's no point in him holding back o his affections anymore right?
#boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia x reader#deku x reader#yandere deku#izuku midoria x reader#izuku x reader#midoriya x reader#deku imagine#deku headcanons#yandere izuku#yandere midoriya#mha x reader#mha headcanons#bnha x reader#bnha imagines#villian deku#villian midoriya
589 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cystalyoo
Awesome_Crystal
oleskellybones
President of What?
uglylaugher
Uglylaughter
ventiella
prissy and prim
devildumbasses
Obey me fukujuu sasetera omae no kachi!