#it’s been ages his solo is even out but i don’t care | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satoruhour · 8 months

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HE PLAYS BASS !

a/n: modern au bc i cant handle any angst rn. i ramble a lot in this to set the scene teehee. not beta read, gn btw / tagging @crysugu @slttygeto @getousex :3

wc: 3k ish

warnings: bass guitarist!geto, soft dom!geto, he is respectful of your boundaries, both geto and reader smoke weed, shotgun kiss, sexual acts under the influence, fingering, clit stimulation, implied second round, implied cunnilingus, dry humping, praise, n*sfw under the cut

bass guitarist!geto who has had an interest in music and its instruments since being a little boy, practically begging his parents to enrol him in some guitar classes. with fingers strumming the nylon strings alongside complicated chords on the frets felt so right that since then he and his guitar have been inseparable since.

bass guitarist!geto who gets to know the guitar so well that he masters guitar solo after guitar solo, playing songs by ear in his free time and thought lead guitar was all there was to music until the age of fifteen where he stumbles across a song with a bass line that sounded absolutely heavenly — through the 240p quality of the youtube video, he watched the bassist dish out the heavy beats, always in the background yet detrimental to making the band sound complete.

bass guitarist!geto who leaped at the opportunity to buy a bass guitar with whatever money he had to purchase a Squier bass — it was a little shitty in sound but it was cheap, something affordable for a middle schooler. suguru didn’t care. he perfected the use of his bass guitar, already having the basics down from playing guitar; his room is filled with posters, picks, pieces of displaced lyrics.

bass guitarist!geto only has the chance two years later to ask his new friends if they wanted to jam out together and down the line, if they wanted to form a band. it was a clueless band of boys (with shoko of course) in some room of gojo satoru’s luxury house where his parents don’t care to ask him to keep the noise down like suguru’s parents do.

bass guitarist!geto fights to get a spot to audition for one of tokyo’s biggest music festivals a few months later. if they won they would get more recognition, more support, even if they haven’t figured out the specifics of how to operate a band. with gojo as the singer, shoko on the lead and nanami on drums, they would find out what they had.

bass guitarist!geto who breaks that stereotype of the bassist being ignored throughout a performance. he thinks it could be because of his longer hair and his newly bought gauges, and he thought he didn’t look too shabby himself — although he isn’t surprised to see most of the girls fawn over gojo as he sang lyrics of an original song, courtesy of the joint effort between geto and shoko.

bass guitarist!geto who gives judges the finger after they said they couldn’t perform originals at an audition, blacklisting them for future performances — but gojo sees it as a win when he has a hoard of new fans waiting outside to get a photo with him with autographs that differed from each paper his pen made contact with. later, he bursts out laughing when gojo says he hadn’t even thought of a proper signature yet and just ‘did whatever on their paper’.

bass guitarist!geto whose band gained popularity fast because of everyone’s good looks, singing at that same place they auditioned at, but now with repertoire under their belt. it’s then that they’re already all in university, and yet everyone’s still incredibly passionate.

bass guitarist!geto who spots you in the crowd together with your friends, jamming out to their set, but while your friends’ eyes are locked on gojo who’s loving the attention, nanami who can’t give a shit and shoko who’s too focused on her solo, you manage to draw geto’s eyes to you. he spends the rest of the set locking eyes with you, amidst other things like sending you winks and licking his lips until you’re under his spell. all throughout he doesn’t lose the rhythm, but he does slip-up from time to time and there��s a panicked look that nanami sends to geto for messing up his rhythm.

bass guitarist!geto who sees you at his next show alone, smiling up at him right at the front row while he’s trying not to mess up after the last time. this time he has a chance to show you what he’s got in a bass solo, losing himself in the music until even you fades off and you’re truly seeing the bassist for who he is. he’s easing back into the main melody of the song but not before leaning over the speakers with a knee on the floor, hovering right over you before shoko takes over and he’s back to his heavy beats.

bass guitarist!geto who brushes off the teasing after the set ends, only to be bombarded with more of it when he sees you on campus — no way you’re in the same school as him, walking around with your cute outfits and laughing along to your friend’s joke with no care in the world.

bass guitarist!geto who doesn’t have much trouble charming you into hanging out with him, already recognising him from far away when he’s got his long flowy hair and gauges and tight black shirt and tall stature — you aren’t realising he’s asking you if it’ll be okay for you to head over to his dorm room. you’re getting pushed by your friends behind you to say yes with giggles and gossip, and of course you weren’t going to reject the hot guy you missed class and ditched friends for.

bass guitarist!geto who shows you his room and tells you to let him know if he’s made you uncomfortable in any way. in the background, there’s a faded, soft song that continues to play that really completes the dorm, immediately hitting it off until he starts to roll a joint a while later, offering it to you with a raise of his eyebrow.

“oh— n-no it’s fine, geto-san, i don’t really smoke…” you sheepishly turn down the weed, settling instead to watch him and his beautiful side profile, letting him explain to you about bands and guitar and chords.

“thank you for having me, geto-san,” bowing, you’re nothing like the person in the bar that day, geto thinks it’s the lack of alcohol but he doesn’t mind, simply leaning on the doorframe as he nods down at you. his smile is intoxicating and so goddamn attractive you would’ve buckled to your knees if not for the deep breaths you were taking.

“next time, pretty?” geto smiles, a little high from smoking. his eyes are lidded (they usually are anyway) and smile lopsided. his hair’s almost out of the bun.

“yeah, next time,” it sounded so breathy, you bit your lip. “i guess you’d have to find me on campus, though.”

bass guitarist!geto who mutters how you’re a little tease to himself later when he closes the door. he swears to himself he’d get your number next time, but it’s not difficult to find you the next time, hanging around the same place at the same time. it’s like you wanted him to find you — he’s not opposed to it. it’s a few weeks down the road now, and the second time is watching him curiously as he smokes, too. you take a hit and embarrass yourself completely in front of him though, and while you’re fighting for your life, you’re not opposed to the buzz it gives you.

bass guitarist!geto who’s opening the door to you the next time, surprised to see your dishevelled state and a pillow between your arms, walking almost a block like this to the next building where his dorm was. he offers to make you some tea and you shake your head, feeling a pounding headache already coming on just from explaining that your roommate was an asshole.

“you can sleep here if you want to, okay?” you sigh, thanking him immensely because even after knowing him for such a short period of time, you’re comforted by his presence.

“at least satoru’s not here,” you laugh at that, nodding tiredly before you’re settling on gojo’s bed after insistence from the other. he wouldn’t care, he’s always going back home anyway, don’t know why he wanted to share a room with me. but before you can get settled in, you hear the familiar crinkling of the paper and the click of the lighter and the smell of weed fills the room again.

again, his hand is outstretched, holding an ashtray below him as the tip of joint glows a red, calling out to you yet reminding you of the way you coughed the other night.

you crawl off his roommate’s bed, snatching the cig out of his hand in a way to prove something to yourself before taking a big puff. this time you’re better, letting the drug flow through your system, but tolerance is another thing, because it only takes another hit for you to be smiling drowsily at the other while geto is a little high, too, eyes rolling to the back of his head when your hand traces over his arms and you giggle.

“you w’nna kiss?” geto asks quietly, a little soberly, having talked late into the night while you hang off his arm and slur your words. but now you know you’re feeling a little more sensible when you can feel your heart pound and your eyes widen despite their need to close.

“i meant it, doll. you’re fuckin’ stunning,” suguru mumbles, the coldness of his rings sending a chill down your body, but also a spark to your core, “you look exactly like the day i discovered bass.” and it’s like cupid fully shoots his arrow through your heart — because have you heard the man play? you’re speechless at his point, only mustering a nod before you’re leaning in.

he hums drunkenly as a way to ask you to wait a min, manoeuvring you onto his lap before he’s taking the almost vanishing joint into his hands. two more puffs are perfect for the cigarette to be discarded and so with a gentle hand, he holds onto your nape while he tries not to get hard from having you on his lap. slowly, your lips wrap around the other end of the joint, taking in another influx of the drug before he does too.

bass guitarist!geto who pulls you towards his lips a little roughly but he doesn’t give you what you want (what he has in mind is much, much better), rather leaving his lips ajar as he exhales the smoke from his mouth into yours, your own smoke already dissipating. weirdly, this burn is more prominent, probably because all you can focus on are suguru’s dazed eyes and the way they burn through your skull. you inhale the smoke before you feel his soft lips on yours.

geto hums into your lips, coming off of them periodically to allow the smoke to disperse, but the moment is so intimate and hot that you blow away the smoke and lunge forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

“no more pullin’ away, geto-san…” you’re trailing off, words messily whispered against his lips and you burn at the chuckle he sounds out, muttering back a question of consent. you’re nodding, reeling at the speed at which he places his hands on your thighs, dragging you further up his front until you rested on his pelvis.

“kissing me like you can’t breathe and you’re still calling me by my last name? i’m wounded.” geto pulls away and defies your rule — you think he’s the only one who can do that. pouting, suguru pushes away the hair enclosing your face. “c’mon, drink, sober up a little.”

“...i like it like this,” you murmur, ashamed as to how readily you leaned into his touch. his stare is piercing though, not budging until you’re gulping down half the cup.

“throats turn dry when we smoke, princess. we can do it more when you’re more used to it, alright?” geto explains, patting your thigh and ignoring the tensing of them around his own. he’s trying so hard to act nonchalant, but he can’t get the image of you parting your lips for the smoke out of his head. the way your eyes flutter close, how you wanted more of him.

“alright… suguru,” you sigh out the name and geto wishes he could hear it somewhere else, “but can we—” the high is getting to you, making your hormones go into a frenzy and you’re grinding on his lap. geto hisses at the feeling, of your cunt brushing against his bulge. your hips are inexperienced, but you’re going by feel, drawing little circles and moving back and forth; whatever that brings you pleasure.

“baby— f-fuck…” geto swears when you pair it with the lips tha kiss down his cheek and jaw and neck, hands on your hips guiding you as you try to chase your high. but a whine from you draws geto out of his daze and he almost cums hearing your needy voice, begging him for something, anything.

“’m tired, suguru,”

he knows, grinding is a tiring thing, so rather he opts for you to lie on him with your back to his chest. by now, the room’s filled with the smell of weed and arousal, asking once again if he could take off your pyjama shorts. geto smiles at the lack of underwear but he says nothing, eyes latched onto the strings of juices that connect your pussy to the shorts.

“my baby ready to be touched?” he feels you nod, loving the way your stomach contracts and expands at the hand that travels over your clothed tits. there, he squeezes them, rubbing fingers over the hardened nub but soon creeps towards your centre. his hand and fingers are so much larger than yours, covering your whole core easily when he cups it and the contact is enough to make you mewl.

“hurry,” your hips hump the air.

“patience, darling,” geto’s gravelly voice cuts through to your ear before he finally draws languid circles upon your clit, rubbing and pressing on your bundle of nerves. his whole body burns from seeing you react so cutely, all cause your eyes couldn’t leave his on that stage. now your eyes were rolling up and over, little moans leaving your lips just from his hands.

bass guitarist!geto who seems to know all your pleasure points in one night, kissing the spot under your ear, to talking you through your orgasm. you were enamoured by the guitarist that you’d let him do anything to you, obsessed with the way he never missed questions of “is this okay?” and “tell me to stop”. geto is just as besotted by you, the arch of your back, the call of his name. god, he was going to write so many songs about you.

“think you can handle a finger, baby?” suguru whispers, caressing your twitching thighs from your first orgasm. with a shaky “yes”, geto plays with your hole, smearing your juices around your sex and getting it all on your thighs. the bashful suguruuu! has him laughing, taking your lips into another kiss as an apology.

“sorry, sweetheart. love teasin’ ya,” muffled words are said, “goin’ in.”

your jaw drops even more when geto first inserts a finger, so much wider and longer that a long moan escapes you. the stretch is so good, everything you’ve ever imagined after watching his fingers travel over the bass strings, and you’re already asking for a second finger. when he does oblige, your hands fly to grab at his wrist.

“feel good?” he chuckles at your lack of an answer, rather responding by clenching around his fingers and leaning back more into his hold. geto sets a pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. he thinks it’s enough of staring at you and almost gets whiplash when his head turns to his hand — from the way he disappears into your dripping cunt, he thinks he’ll cum untouched, although your desperate hips also would play a part.

“feel s’good, suguru— shit…” geto groans lowly into your ear when he feels your hand replicating the circles he’s made on your clit, juices starting to collect in his palm from how wet you were.

“you keep clenchin’ around me, baby, you w’nna cum?”

your body is more vocal than your voice, twisting and thrashing from how his fingers already feel so good. the haze and the smell of geto suguru and the weed in your system is all overloading on you at the moment, but in between you’re able to nod, fingers rubbing at your clit while geto’s speed picks up a little.

your legs naturally spread, each slap of his palm against your pussy paired with the lewd noises only making the whole thing better. it’s not long before you feel that familiar feeling, using your right hand to direct him to you once more and it’s here you see the man you saw on stage before: focused, flushed, small smirk on his face. “gonna cum.”

“yeah? are you?” geto asks against your lips, still tasting the faint aroma of the joint. your eyes are so heavy and your limbs feel like lead; it’s a wonder how both your hands are moving on your soaking wet pussy.

“yeah, sugu, s’sensitive—!” geto coos softly at your whimpers before capturing your lips, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and your orgasm comes crashing down on you. suguru effectively swallows your moans, groaning on his own end when he can feel your cum running down his hand. slowly, he lets you ride through your orgasm, pressing pecks on your skin and shoulders.

“attagirl. so much cum, hm?” your chest is heaving, whining when he removes his fingers and there’s a cute little squelch from the juices, gasping softly as geto separates his fingers and there’s strings connecting his middle to ring finger. “dirty girl.”

you scoff softly with a smile, eyes following how his fingers make his way into his mouth. the other only hums before carrying you bridal style to the shower with a sweet smile on his face. geto suguru was certain he’d worship you.

“gotta taste that cute little pussy next time.”

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colourstreakgryffin · 3 months

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Teen!Reader finding Alastor all beaten and bruised after the finale and getting worried, insisting in patching him up, etc, while Alastor during the entire time is having a moment of realization like "oh, this kid ACTUALLY cares about me"

(This is platonic obviously, reader sees him like a weird older brother/father figure and looks up to him idk)

I love it. Simple, enjoyable and to be honest, we’ll just pretend Alastor had his sick solo in the finale before we showed up and I suppose Al will be quite unhinged and aggressive in this state so goddamn. Also, my second time writing about the finale

Platonic! Alastor- Reaching Out

“You son of a bitch, I am trying to help you!” You growl out, now half-wrestling with the Radio Demon himself, after his lose battle against Adam. Whilst Adam has been finally defeated at Lucifer’s hand then killed at Niffty’s knife. It’s clear as crystal that Alastor isn’t taking his own defeat well at all. He’s aggressive, completely lost his usual charismatic, well-mannered demeanour, he’s breaking down and barking at you to back off as you’re still trying to pry his own hands off the visible red bleeding wound over his chest

You’ve found this retreating deer out of pure luck and now, you’re acting on your compassion for him to try make the process of healing less painful for him

You’re the only Hazbin Hotel staff member that actually treated Alastor more than an annoyance standing there. He isn’t the best guy at there, never. No, but he isn’t as bad as Vaggie or Husk claim he is. However, right now, he’s boiling your blood with how much he is refusing to let you even touch him, despite the fact he needs to be patched up. He’s low on power, his cane is snapped in half, he’s limited and requires help

“I don’t need your help, Leitora!” Alastor barks back in possibly the most unhinged way you’ve ever seen, basically backing into a wall. He can’t even notice how worried you actually are, how you’re getting frustrated because you’re worried and you’re the only one who has been looking for and have found Alastor whilst everybody else is celebrating the victory over Adam. You’re the one looking for and now looking out for the man you actually find quite nice. He isn’t as patronising to you, for whatever reason, Alastor’s decent and it’s almost like he wants to be some type of figure in your life with how he behaves

“Stay still before you bleed yourself to unconsciousness, you narcissistic edible piece of shit!” You only say this so cruelly, sharp and half loud as to put Alastor into his place, prove to him you’re not backing down whilst you finally win the half wrestling session you have with the weakened and distressed Overlord, already beginning to check around for the entire length of the wound and use what little excess fabric your current clothing has to make a makeshift bandage for this wound

This is surprising, you’re possibly two times his age. A teenager, if not 15-16 at the oldest upon your human death and you’re acting more mature than the biologically 34 year old. Alastor just stayed quiet, tall fluffy deer-like ears still pinned back and suffering through the intense pain. He wouldn’t admit that he is quite grateful that somebody is around but at the same time, he doesn’t want to get attached to any soul

It took him a proper glance at the cute young sinner he found it fun to playfully tease, mock and behave like a clingy overprotective big brother to piss off, that they genuinely care for him. That they aren’t lying or pretending as to get something out of him like he suspects everybody in the Hotel, including Charlie, is

This is so much different than he suspected, he was believing he’d be going back to his radio tower to vent out his rage at being smacked in the face of such a pathetic opponent

Ending up being the pathetic opponent. He hates showing his weakness and he can barely keep himself from snapping but he also can feel his racking nerves ease up a bit at this strong, confident yet sweet and compassionate kid trying to take care of him when they have no actual requirement to do so

Alastor takes a few more seconds to think and speak, not even realising he was sat down by you as he was thinking frantically about how his own mischievous and mocking behaviour as some type of surrogate brother for you was more than just something down to see your reactions for his own amusement, he does feel some type of family-based affections for you

Now, that affection has been bumped up even more. He definitely owns you a lot for caring about him like some surrogate little sibling when all he does for you is annoy you. He doesn’t even know that you actually look up to him like some type of family figure… so, the familiar feelings are mutual

“Fuck… can you just be careful with the coat? This is my treasure”

(A/N: Real quick. Leitora means ‘Reader’ in Portuguese, this’ll be our name for any none anime posts. There’s two versions; Leitora as the feminine version and Leitor as the masculine version. You can use either for us! I got this from Google Translate)

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toxicanonymity · 2 months

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beach walks - prequel.

3.8k surf instructor!Billy x f!reader, night walks AU

WARNINGS: I8+, situationship angst over Joel, infidelity adjacent, forced proximity, smut (mild dubcon?), in public, voyeurism, jealousy. See Billy in action (sex): hot ❤️‍🔥 gif set by @ilovewhiteroses or this video. Skeleton Twins (2014) Feel free to skip this fic if it bothers you.

✨NEXT FIC: Beach Walks

After your late night “swim,” you’re disappointed when Joel doesn’t try to get you into his basement. But he does kiss you goodnight before you walk home. You almost text him and invite him over, but something holds you back. You don't want to mess up the dynamic and scare him away. Maybe he’ll let himself in and get in bed with you. It takes you a while to get to sleep as you realize something has shifted. You're now craving more than his dick and his way with words. You’d be happy to fall asleep in his arms, with or without the morning wood to look forward to.

After this realization, you start overanalyzing things, debating whether and when to text him, reading into how often he texts you and what he says. After a few days of nothing but a dick pic, it feels like it's been weeks. And yet, this was normal before. One night, you break down and send him a pic of a freshly rolled joint with the text, “wanna join?”

He replies “wish I could, gotta be somewhere early 😫.”

After that, he seems to text you less and less. He doesn't initiate and barely texts back. You wonder if he’s bored without the chase, so you try to play it cool. You go for walks by yourself, in case he’ll come out and join you, but weeks go by, and he never does. Some nights you hear the weights clanging in his basement, so he must be fine.

One day, you're outside, locking the basement side door, when an unfamiliar Mercedes Benz SUV pulls out of Joel's cul-de-sac. There's a speed bump just before your house, so it has to slow down, and you can clearly see a woman is driving, and Joel is in the passenger seat. Your stomach drops. He looks more put together, like he spruced himself up for her. She’s pretty. Somewhere between your age and his.

The keys are shaking in your hand as you unlock the door again. You go back inside with your heart racing. Don't text him again, you tell yourself. Don't do it. But after an hour, you do. You ask what he's up to, and he doesn't answer. He doesn't answer all day, and when he finally answers that evening, he acts totally casual, like nothing is up. Small talk. He doesn’t invite you over. Not so much as a dick pic. You leave your door unlocked and cry yourself to sleep. You judge yourself for caring so much.

You keep leaving your door unlocked at night, but he doesn't come. Then, one day, he drives by in the same SUV, with the same woman, and you're not sure you've ever seen him so happy. You’re lightheaded. It's a harsh reality check. You’ve never been exclusive, never had a talk. He'd never even taken you on a date. When you think about that, it makes you sick. Is his wife still in the picture? You decide not to text him again.

You’ve been invited on a beach trip that starts the next day, but you don’t go. You don't have the energy to pack, and part of you is still hoping Joel will just show up at your door one day. But the next few nights, when you walk by his house, all the lights are off. At first, you drive yourself crazy thinking about where he could be, but does it really matter? Your anxiety starts to fade into sadness.

You’ve got to get your mind off it, so you drive solo to catch up with your friends at the beach.

******

The resort is humble but sprawling. There are kayaks and surf lessons. You're tempted by the kayaks, but on the first day, you just relax on the beach. As soon as you lay out your towel, your friends tell you about the hot surf instructor. Then, later that day, they swear he's checking you out. You catch a glimpse from behind first, and he has a nice back.

You see the surf instructor at breakfast the next morning, and he smiles at you. It’s a devastating smile that erases all your thoughts for a second. You can’t even look right at him. You look behind yourself, and it couldn't be anyone else he was looking at. He laughs silently, then gets in line next to you. He looks at the eggs on your plate.

You’re not expecting his Australian accent. “Sunny side up. . .good to know.” It takes you a second, then your chest flutters when it hits you. “Enjoy,” he adds with a wink, then walks away. He moves like he has no worries and nowhere to be.

When you tell your friends, they lose their minds. All day they’re talking about what you could do, and speculating about his dick, and whether he’s that chill in the bedroom, too. They think he’s probably a freak. A few hours later, you realize you’ve barely thought about Joel all day, for the first time in weeks, and it feels good. You begin to think maybe a vacation fling could help you move on. Assuming that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Later that day, you're in the lobby waiting for a friend when the surf instructor comes in from the beach. You play it cool, but he sees you, stops, and takes off his shades. He approaches, and you get your first really good look at him up close. He's tall, tan, and shredded, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s got small ear gauges, and a tattoo of something with tentacles winding up his neck. He's chewing gum.

A mischievous sparkle plays on his eyes as he spreads his feet and crosses his arms. "Saw ya layin’ out, nice ‘n’ dry. . .thought I should let ya know, the real fun’s in the water."

“Oh yeah?”

He nods. "Love to get ya on a board, if ya don't surf already."

You laugh. "No, I don't."

He checks you out, then asks, “How ‘bout it?” and waits patiently for your yes.

"Maybe," you crack a smile.

"No charge. . .Name's Billy." He extends his hand. As you shake hands, he leans in closer, lowers his voice, and says, "’Lot funner gettin’ wet." As he steps away, he offers, "Come down around five, yeah?" Your tummy is swarming with butterflies as he walks off, and it must be evident. Your friend immediately assumes he asked you out.

—

You go down to the shore at five to meet Billy. Storm clouds are rolling in. Billy is looking at the sky and idly spinning a whistle on a string. He has two boards laid out. As you approach, he looks at his watch. “Punctual, aren't ya?”

First, he teaches you how to hop up on the board, something you weren’t even sure you could do. Then he demonstrates the right stance, and you can't help but notice the way his thigh muscles swell out from his swim trunks. The teal swim trunks are a little on the shorter side, which is only emphasized by the black, long-sleeve rash guard he’s wearing. Your gaze is dangerously close to his crotch when you pull your eyes back up to his face.

He looks at your stance, and asks, “Mind if I touch ya?”

“Please,” you answer without thinking.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head playfully. “Knew ya were a bad girl.”

“I mean,” your face heats up with a smile, and he raises his eyebrows. “I mean I need all the help I can get.” He indulges you with a contemplative nod.

“Sure, love.” He comes around to stand next to you. Thunder begins to rumble, and he glances at the sky.

He crouches down, and one foot at a time, you let him adjust your position on the board. As he begins to stand, he looks up at you and his hand skims up the back of your calf, breaking away at the knee.

He steps a little closer and gently presses on the small of your back. “There ya go.” Then he gets behind you and leans forward, curving his body with yours. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls them back. He’s so close you can feel his body heat. His hands slide up your sides, hitching briefly on the bottom string of your swim top. Then he slots his hands under your arms and adjusts your posture. “Good girl,” he murmurs, then there's a loud boom of thunder. Rain begins to dot the sand before you feel it on your skin. “It’ll blow over,” he reassures you.

To wait out the storm, Billy invites you into the surf shack, up past the dunes. He leaves the door open. He doesn’t turn a light on, but there are a few windows. It’s only one room. It's got surfboards, lifeguard stuff, an old TV with a DVD/VCR combo, and a loveseat. In front of the loveseat, there’s a coffee table with a bong on it. Almost as soon as he walks in, he’s taking off his long sleeves.

“Gets muggy in here quick,” he warns as he plops down on the loveseat. He pats the space next to him, and you sit down. “Suppose we could watch a movie,” he muses and picks up two remote controls from the coffee table. He puts on Jaws at low volume so you can still listen to the storm. He offers the bong, but you decline.

He faces you, resting his head in his hand, with his elbow on the back of the loveseat. You mirror his posture, and he shamelessly checks you out, once again.

You make small talk about the weather and the resort. With his free hand, he idly strokes his own sternum, slowly dragging his middle finger up and down between his pecs. His nipples are pierced – the bars are so subtle you couldn’t tell through his top.

After a lull in the conversation, you adjust your position to face the tv. He stretches his arm across the back of the loveseat, and his hand is right behind your head. He begins to lightly caress the nape of your neck with his thumb. You don’t flinch or pull away. You chew your bottom lip, and your heart races. His eyes are glued to your body, and you’re barely pretending to watch the movie.

“So,” he asks, “Could ya feel me starin’ at your arse yesterday?”

You laugh. “No.”

“Well, I was,” he nods. “When ya were layin’ out.”

Finally you look at him, and when your eyes meet, he begins to let his fingers slowly dance on your thigh, sending a rush of desire to your loins.

You’re suddenly nervous. You don't remember how to do this. You half heartedly begin to say, “Maybe I should. . .”

“Come a little closer?” A loud clap of thunder shakes the whole shack. “Nowhere for us to go now, is there?”

He glances at the window where the sky has darkened and heavy rain is coating the glass. His voice drops. “Kinda like this storm, if I’m honest,” he admits.

“Yeah,” you quietly agree.

His thumb separates from the back of your neck, then your halter string tightens for a moment before completely loosening.

“Oops,” he whispers, looking at you.

You gasp and your hand comes to your chest to hold the top up as you turn toward him again, bringing your knee up on the cushion. Your face burns and you laugh his name in mock admonishment.

"Got a boyfriend?” He asks. “Girlfriend?"

"No," you shake your head.

"Wouldn't stop me, anyway.” His hand curves lightly around your inner thigh, stroking your warm skin. His caress gets higher and higher, further toward your throbbing core. “Not if ya want it, love. What kinda feminist would I be then?” He tilts his head and slides his hand all the way up to the crotch of your swimsuit. “Nah, what she wants, she gets,” he murmurs, staring at his hand between your legs. A knuckle nudges the crotch of your swimsuit, and you’re gushing for him. One corner of his mouth twitches knowingly as he meets your eyes again. “And I think ya want it.” God, he’s hot. He’s so hot, and so right.

The hand behind you cradles your head, and his gaze falls on your lips. His blue eyes are dark with lust. He leans in, pauses with his lips about two inches from yours. You close the gap yourself, accepting the embrace of his smooth lips on yours. Soon he tilts his head, and his tongue slides into your mouth. You drop your hand from your chest, and the un-tied strings still dangling on your back precariously hold your top up. As the kiss becomes hungrier, his hand slides easily into one side of your loosened bikini. His fingers bracket your nipple as he caresses your breast then cups with a soft, “mmm,” into your mouth. You’re absolutely throbbing.

There's a clattering outside, then an unfamiliar voice. "We've got someone out in the surf, down toward the pier."

Your eyes fly to the door, embarrassed, but the man doesn't even look at you. You quickly re-tie your swimsuit. Billy adjusts himself and replies, “Alright mate, let's hop on the jetski.”

“It’s ready.” The man steps outside to wait.

When Billy stands up, you see a massive protrusion in his shorts, resting against his upper thigh, and your breath hitches. You accidentally stare, and he smirks when he notices. “Yeah?” he asks with a downward glance. He holds his hand out and you give him yours as you stand up. He puts your hand on the bulge in his shorts. It’s stiff and warm and makes you ache to be filled. “All for you, love.” He drops your hand but it stays there for a split second.

He pulls his rashguard on and adjusts his shorts, then gives you a short but heated kiss. “Find ya later.”

—----

When the storm dies down enough, you run up the beach, arms squeezed together in front of you. You grab a towel from the hut by the pool and enter the lobby. A man has just left the vending area, and you do a double-take when you see a bag of takis in his hand, but he's already walking away. Your heart jumps when you see he's wearing pj pants. But it couldn't possibly be Joel. Not this far from home.

You brush it off, but for the rest of the day, you can't get Joel out of your mind, except for when you let your thoughts drift to being in that shack with Billy. It's gotten worse than you thought if you're thinking Joel is there on the island based on a bag of chips and someone dressing comfortably on vacation.

You let yourself imagine what it would be like to let Billy fuck you. Maybe you need this.

You're restless and don't have any privacy to get off. After dark, you go out to the pool, and quietly slip into the water, ignoring the sign that says “closed.”.

The water is about nipple-height where you are. You face the pool and rest your arms on the side, letting your legs float in front of you. You close your eyes and squeeze your thighs together thinking about what might have happened in that shack if you weren’t interrupted earlier. And just when you’re picturing what Billy looks and sounds like when he comes, you hear his voice.

"Pool's closed, rulebreaker."

You look toward his voice, and he puts down a bag near your towel. You ask, "Gonna tell on me?"

He takes off his rash guard and stretches, jutting his chest and pelvis forward with his hands clasped behind his back, then he walks over and dives in the deep end. He swims underwater and comes up for air a few feet from you. When he surfaces, he tousles his hair.

He slowly approaches, wetting his lips. He looks even sexier in the dark. "Where were we, love," he murmurs. His hands start at your floating feet–he spreads them apart, making room for himself between your legs. Then his hands slide all the way up your legs as he gets closer. He pulls you against him and you loosely wrap your legs around him.

"There ya go," he murmurs, then dips his head and cradles yours. He kisses you long and hard. He pushes his hips forward, pinning you against the pool wall, and his cock stiffens against you. Then he pulls you off the wall and holds you by the ass so his arousal is firmly pressing against your tingling front. You wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks lower into the water. He kisses and sucks your neck, just above the waterline. He’s probably leaving a mark, and you don’t care. You don’t really care about anything but the mutual throbbing between your legs at the moment.

—

You feel someone watching, and when Billy goes after your neck again, you scan the balconies until you see a dark figure sitting on a second floor balcony. You look for a few seconds and can't make out anything. You scold yourself for thinking about Joel and wrap your legs tighter around Billy. His cock swells harder against your clit, and your thoughts are gone again. You moan softly as he grinds you on himself and kisses you needily, from your lips to your neck, your throat, under your chin, back to your lips. Billy pulls your top down enough to feel your nipples against his chest and lets out a sigh that makes you ache all over with need.

The man on the balcony stands up, steps forward, and boldly leans on the railing and clasps his hands, watching. He’s still a silhouette, and you try not to look right at him.

"There's, um. Someone watching," you tell Billy.

"Bother ya?" Billy asks, keeping his eyes glued to you.

You adjust your swimsuit to cover your nipples, and he says, "Guess so, huh. Drink at my place then?"

"I dunno," you say reflexively.

He whispers in your ear, “Come home with me,” then gently bites your neck and pulls you tighter against his massive erection. You quietly gasp.

“I can't, we’re going to sunrise yoga.”

“Yours then,” he offers, undeterred and growing breathless with desire.

“My friends are there.”

“Mine’s just a few minutes up the beach. I'll bring ya back,” he offers, “Go to yoga with ya.” He begins to move your body against his again. God, you want that hard cock. Just a few days ago, the thought of anyone but Joel did nothing for you, and now, here you are.

You bite your lip and hum, “mm,” in contemplation.

"A drink at the bar," he offers, nodding toward the hotel bar. "Then my place."

You smile and he presses a gentle, closed-mouth kiss onto your lips. You're smiling against each other’s mouths for a second, until his cock throbs against you, and he seals his lips on yours, and your tongues need each other again. He grinds you against him for a few seconds and moans into your mouth before you pull your head away, and remind him, “Drink at the bar.”

“Alright,” he breathes. His cock twitches against you "Gimme a minute, love. . . Fuck, I can't walk in like this," he laughs.

Footsteps approach, and you pull away from Billy. The footsteps are from a man with shoulder length hair and a mustache. He's grinning, looking down. He keeps walking, and as he passes by he laughs, "hey, I didn't see nothin', man."

Billy looks up. "Tommyyy. Wanna catch a wave tomorrow?"

"Nah, we're rollin' out in the morning."

"Alright, mate. Good seein' ya.”

The voice of the stranger has jolted you back from your horny stupor. "I'm actually really tired," you say, facing the side of the pool. You put your forearms up on the side and rest your cheek on your hands.

Billy groans in disappointment, but he gets it.

"Maybe tomorrow night," you muse.

"I've got a set at Aqua tomorrow. You should come."

"A set?"

"I'm a DJ. And as for tonight. . ." He gets close behind you and murmurs near your ear. "I won’t leave ya like this. What kinda gentleman would I be?" Thank God. He snakes his arm around your front. The stiff shape in his swim trunks presses against your crack.

He cups your whole pussy, and his middle finger prods at the fabric right at your entrance. "Gonna let me in here next time, aren’t ya?" he whispers and begins to rub you over the fabric. Pleasure is building in your core. You begin to lose yourself under his expert touch. "Yeah, there we go." He slides his other hand up under one side of your top and his bare palm covers your nipple. You could cum any second with his hardness grinding against you.

He slips his hand into your swimsuit and rubs your clit as he palms your tit. Your head falls back, he kisses your neck, then you let it happen. You gasp and try not to be too loud as your final ascent begins, with Billy slowly rutting against your backside, breathing heavily in your ear.

—----------------

Joel doesn’t have a great view, and his eyes are tired from the sun, but he keeps watching. He’s convinced himself it’s not you, that he’s just been driving himself crazy thinking of you.

Even from a distance, it’s really hot to see. It reminds Joel of your last hook-up. Desire stirs in his pants, and he’s going to have to jack off. Maybe he’ll send you a jack-off video—he can do that now. Joel palms himself as he turns to go back inside. Then, you moan loud enough that he freezes with his hand on the sliding door. He’s heard that moan too many times.

. . .Did he just watch you, in the pool with Billy, hours from home? He tries not to look back as he goes inside and closes the door behind him.

He’s not jealous. Not jealous, he tells himself.

He has no right to be.

You don’t owe him anything, and he knows that.

He’s fine. Not freaking out.

Joel’s a chill guy, even without the weed. But his ears are hot, and his heart is pounding so hard he can hear it. He smacks the wall and yells, “FUCK,” as a picture frame falls. He tries to shake the pain off his hand.

What are you even doing here?

“You alright, man?” Tommy asks, muffled through the wall.

Joel rakes both hands through his hair and takes a few deep breaths.

“Joel?” Tommy asks and cracks open the door between their rooms.

“Yeah,” Joel answers as he sits down on the bed. He interlaces his fingers behind his head, elbows pointing forward. “I’m just stupid.”

------

thank you for reading!

#f!reader #night walks!reader #the skeleton twins #night walks!joel #FIWB #toxicanonymity ☠️#cuck!joel miller #joel miller angst #our favorite white boy #boyd holbrook #boyd bungalow ☠️#billy x reader #billy skeleton twins #beach walks #boyd holbrook smut #👱‍♂️

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sweet-creature101 · 1 year

Text

Kiwi

Summary: Harry recently started his solo carrier and Sarah recommmeds y/n as his lead guitarist. Harry finds himself intimidated by y/n and y/n could not care less.

famous!harry ; an enemies to lovers trope

part two

warnings: mention of alcohol. Swearing. Suggestive language and sexual tension.

“Come on Harry trust me on this. It won’t go downhill. She’s really good.” Sarah pleaded her case for the tenth time since the past one hour. Harry was certain she would talk his ear off.

“What was her name again?” Mitch asked Sarah.

“Y/n.”

“Sarah, I don’t know about this. I’ve known you all since a long time and it’s easy to work with you.” Harry said, slightly skeptical about a new addition to his team.

Harry knew who you were, a very successful songwriter and one hell of a guitar player. He knew you worked with bands like 5sos, 21 Pilots and even wrote a few songs on Taylor’s swifts album, Reputation. He saw you at a concert once and immediately fell in love with the way your presence consumed the concert wholly. No one cared about who was singing because everyone’s eyes were fixated on the young seductress clad in black leather and playing her instrument as if her life depended on it.

“You can only grow if you’re out of your comfort zone.” Sarah firmly stated, crossing her arms over her chest huffing out a breath.

Harry thought about it for a good minute. He needed someone with experience and you seemed to have it. You knew how to write and what to write. Perhaps a little experiment wouldn’t be so bad.

“Okay. I��m trusting your judgement on this.” Harry said nodding.

“Great because y/n’s in the elevator right now.” Sarah said giggling slightly. “Thank God you didn’t say no. Would’ve been a difficult conversation.” She mumbled, relived at how the situation panned out.

The apartment bell rang and Sarah jumped out of her seat startling Mitch who was sitting next to her. She took long strides towards the door.

“Y/n! Oh my gosh, it’s been ages! You look wonderful!” Sarah said hugging you. You smiled and hugged her back, glad to meet her once again after what seemed like a century.

“Thank you. How’ve you been?” You asked her, not bothering to take note of the two men who seemed to scrutinise your interaction with quite a lot of concentration.

“Same ol’ same ol” Sarah chuckled as she let you in.

“Harry, Mitch meet y/n.” Sarah introduced you to them. You found yourself in an awkward postion so you simply gave a wave and a loose smile.

If Harry was a ball of sunshine then you were a raging hurricane. The two of you were polar opposites. Harry radiated warmth and seemed to be the kind of person whom other people could talk to. Meanwhile you on the other hand were someone who kept to themselves.

Harry couldn’t help but notice your sweeping eyeliner. He observed it quite attentively, how it was winged at the edge of your eye and in the inner corner as well in a feline manner. You wore low waisted jeans with a fitted graphic black tee shirt that ended just below your navel, showing a silver of skin.

“So y/n, what’s your work like?” Mitch asked you.

“I write mainly rock but I’m open to new suggestions.” You said. Sarah nodded as if to say ‘awesome.’

Your voice was firm and authoritative as you answered the question. Harry found himself completly entranced by this complexity of a person that stood in front of him. He figured it out the minute you walked into the room with your head held high that working with you wouldn’t be easy.

“Do you have any questions Harry?” Sarah asked him. Harry only nodded no.

“Great. Im going out for a smoke.” You said leaving the three of them alone again.

“She’s scary.” Harry said once the door shut. Sarah rolled her eyes in response. “She’s a no nonsense person Harry.”

“And scary.” He added again.

“I know you’re not used to people like her. Just because you’re both literal opposites doesn’t mean she’ll eat you alive.” Sarah snorted. “You like her, don’t you Mitch?” Sarah asked him. Mitch only swallowed and replied, “I like her better on stage.”

“Oh hush both of you. Give her time.”

——————————————

“It doesn’t sound good.” Harry huffed out impatiently, staring at the lyrics he scribbled. It had been more than a week since everyone started to work on his debut album.

Harry began to habour a certain disliking for you, owing to lack of your participation and one word answers. You would sit away from everyone, scribble in your diary and would rarely look up from its pages.

“You know what guys, let’s just take a breather yeah?” Jeff, Harry’s manager said getting up from his chair and stretching his legs.

“I’m going out for a walk.” Sarah said, pulling Mitch to his feet as well. Harry was about to get up as well but Sarah mouthed to him; ‘talk to her’ as she gestured towards you. Harry looked at her with wide eyes and was ready to protest but Sarah was quick on her feet.

“Y/n.” Harry called out your name. You looked up at him, the loose strands strands of your braid fell down framing your face. You raised your eyebrows as if to say ‘speak on.’

Harry cleared his throat. “What are you writing?”

“Nothing much. Just an idea.” You said. That was the most you had spoken.

Harry noticed that today, there was no eyeliner but smudged kohl lining your eyes. You opted for a plain white tank top and a pair of mini cargo shorts. A surprise for Harry who was much too used to seeing you in black.

“I think, everyone would appreciate it if you would participate more you know?” Harry said. You only nodded and went back to scribbling.

“See! This is what you do y/n. You don’t talk. You’re so busy doing God knows what. I get it, you know you’re talented but that doesn’t mean you’re better than us.” Harry exploded. You shut your dairy hard and stared at him with rage.

“It’s been almost two weeks since you joined us. Have you contributed in any way?” Harry added, his voice reaching a higher octave and getting louder by the second.

“First of all, I don’t think I’m fucking better than you and second of all, instead of blaming me why don’t you recognise the fact that you’re scared and absolutely clueless.” You spat at him.

“I’m not scared.” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah right.” You scoffed rolling your eyes. “You’re so scared that you’re putting the blame on me just because I’m the newbie. This solo carrier is new to you and that terrifies the shit out of you Harry. So much that you can’t even work. If I have to be the punching bag then I’m fucking leaving.” You stated grabbing your bag.

“You don’t know shit y/n.”

You didnt care about what Harry said next as you walked out of the room.

—————————————————

“Was it really necessary Harry?” Jeff said, rubbing his head with his hands. The stress of not having completed the album began to increase.

“I told you, ‘give her some time.’ Did you do that Harry? No. You just had to say something.” Sarah said, flinging her arms in the air.

“I mean, was Harry wrong though? Y/n was… just there you know. She didn’t talk, she didn’t help. Good riddance I say.” Mitch said.

The whole group was torn up over this. Harry began to feel guilt overpower him, but the rage he felt at your words was far too much for him to hone. He knew you were right and he hated you for that. He hated you for the fact that you were so good at reading him. Harry knew that you didn’t talk because you were shy but because you never found yourself as engaged as the others. You were aloof, and gave the impression that nothing bothered you at all.

“It’s been what; six days since she stormed off?” Jeff asked harry.

“Seven.”

“Jesus.”

Harry was certain that you overreacted to the situation. Granted, you didn’t want to be here and Harry left no stone unturned when it came to reminding you his dislike for you.

The door bell rang, Harry got up to look through the key hole. He felt the colour drain from his face. It was you. Standing in front of the door.

“It’s her.” Harry whispered with his eyes wide.

“You know I can hear you, ya dick. Open the door or I’m leaving.” You, irritation lacing your face.

You began to hate Harry or at least develop an aggressive aversion towards him as time passed. You hated how he seemed to have enough energy throughout the day to burst into a song. You hated that he was all smiles and giggles every second of the day. The only one thing you liked about him was how intimadated he was by you. But you knew that he could be much more terrifying than you when the time came.

“Pick your poison.” Mitch said.

Harry opened the door to meet your black smudged eyes. You push him as you enter the room and slam the diary on the centre table with a loud thud.

“Here you go. You said Im no help at all. Well I beg to differ. I’ve written three songs.” You said. Harry picked up the diary and flipped through the pages.

Kiwi

Medicine

Only angel

Strange names for such explicit songs.

Harry passed the diary to Sarah who looked at the songs with amazement.

“Harry we’ve got to add these.” Sarah said, excitement lacing her eyes.

“I don’t need anyone to plead my case. If he likes them, good enough.” You said, your voice unwavering as you looked at Harry who narrowed his eyes at you.

“I like them.”

—————————————

Within a week, all recordings were done and the album was ready to launch. Jeff suggested that the four of you should to go out, let off some steam because life would never be the same once the album got released.

Everyone was quite surprised when you suggested a place to party. You were quite intent on getting shit faced because the past month had been a whirlwind to say the least.

You wore a black mini dress, encased with sequins that was backless. Your eyes were lined with heavy kohl and mascara. Your whole face was bare other than your eyes.

“Johnnieeeee!” You exclaim to the large bouncer, a smile on your face as you high five him.

“Y/n been a long time. I see you’ve got friends.” He said, eyeing the people behind you.

Sarah felt that the club you brought them to too was far too dark and dingy for her liking. It was dark and the music was blaring. The club smelt of sex, drugs and alcohol. Your natural habitat. She held Mitchs hand in hers who was amused at her behaviour.

“I promise I’ll be good.” You say, looking up at him with doe eyes and a sly smile. John chuckled and let you in the club.

“We have go to do shots.” You exclaim to all three of them. Harry was surprised at your behaviour to say the least, he never would’ve pegged you as someone who even had the ability to smile let alone laugh.

“Nope. I’m driving.” Sarah said throwing her hands up in the air.

“Jeez such a buzzkill.” You said making Sarah roll her eyes. You stuck your tongue out at her as you made your way to the bar with Harry and Mitch.

“Don’t stop till your at least ten shots down.” You said with a cunning smile and excited eyes.

“Ten?!” Mitch exclaimed.

“Six.” Harry interjected.

“Deal.”

Harry learnt a great deal about that night. Especially the fact that you have a tendency to dance with almost anyone and everyone.

He saw you make your way to the dancefloor, not bothered about the fact that you had no one to dance with. You swayed your hips to the song, your arms moving and a bright smile etched on your face. You were surrounded by men and women. Harry saw you dance with a man whom you didn’t know, he wished you would be that carefree with him.

After an hour of drinking and talking, Harry found you dancing on the table with a few other people.

“Is this normal?” He asked Sarah who snickered in response. “Yep. She’s a fun drunk.”

You spot Harry and get down from the table, stumbling forward. The strap of your heel loosened and Harry quickly caught hold of you.

“Wait a second.” Harry said, as he kneeled down to fix your strap. Once he got up he saw your glassy eyes laiden with lust and simply smirked.

“You like watching me get down on my knees for you, huh?” Harry whispered in your ear, his grip harsh around your waist as he pulled you towards himself . You felt heat rise up your thighs and stomach.

“Isn’t that what men are good for anways?” You whispered, closing any gap you two had as you put one hand behind his neck, tugging him closer to you. “Don’t think this changes anything betwen us Styles. You’re still a nightmare.” You whispered to him in his ear slowly.

You stood so close to each other that you could feel each others heat radiate. Harry’s heart raced as his eyes met yours. You were cautious with your gaze, afraid that if you looked any longer in his eyes, he might spot the hunger in yours just as you might see his making you lose any self control you exercised.

“I have someone waiting for me.” You spoke, breaking the silence. Harry raised his eyebrows in amusement as his hands wandered down your waist to your lower back. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he left a bite there. You let out a soft moan, turning into complete putty in his grip.

“I could fuck you much better y/n.” He said, his voice dangerously low.

“I don’t want to be fucked missionary style that’ll leave me unsatisfied.”

“Your moan said otherwise.”

Two can play this game.

You wiggled out of his grip, ignoring the throbbing between your legs as you sauntered towards the dance floor, blowing a kiss at Harry from a distance.

——————————————

“Hello?” Your groggy voice spoke into the microphone of your phone. Your head throbbing due to last night.

“Y/n. Where are you?” Jeff asked you.

“Home.”

“Come over to Harry’s. Got something to discuss.”

“I’ll be there in five.” You said before hanging up on the phone.

You washed your face, put on a large tee shirt and an oversized pair of sunglasses. You brushed your hair and slipped into your slippers. It was a ten minute drive to Harry’s house. The radio was silent. The windows were rolled down because you needed fresh air now more than ever.

You reached his flat and rang the doorbell.

“My my look who’s here.” Harry taunted as he opened the door to see you in an oversized tee shirt, legs bare and slippers. He couldn’t control all the thoughts that seemed to slip in and out his head as he saw your legs.

“Show me your eyes love.” Harry snickered knowing they must be bloodshot. You flipped him off and plopped down on the bean bag, groaning as you held your head.

“You seemed to have a lot of fun last night.” Mitch said, getting a stare from Sarah. “You should see the videos.” He added. Your head shot up at his words.

“Videos?”

“Yep. They’re too good.” He snickered. You removed your sunglasses and pounced at Harry who began to play videos of you dancing on table tops.

“Give. Me. The. Damn. Phone.” You said in between breathes as you attempted to strangle Harry. You were about to smack Harry but he picked you up by your waist, throwing you on his shoulder.

“Put me down.” You stated firmly.

“Only if you don’t strangle me.” Harry said chuckling at your sorry state.

“I don’t make promises Styles.”

“Too bad. I’ll post it if you continue to be a brat.” He said.

“Fine.”

Harry put you down, running a hand through your messy hair which you swatted off. He noticed how young you looked without lining your eyes, a different girl, perhaps even innocent. You looked like a doe. You looked beautiful.

“You’re drolling on the carpet Styles.” You said rolling your eyes at him.

“Am I supposed to deny that I find you attractive?” He questioned, his voice low and alluring. He spoke slow enough to make your thighs quiver. Your mind suddenly flashed you images of how his large hand felt against your waist last night.

“I’m too hungover for this.” The only defense left.

This was new to you. This feeling of loathing someone to no extent but also finding them undeniably attractive. Attractive enough to make your thoughts wander off to forbidden places and scenarios.

“What happened to your neck?” Sarah said, noticing the love bite that Harry left the other night. You rolled your head back as you rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Harry felt proud to say the least, he smirked and winked at you while you barely controlled the urge to smash his face in the table neck to him.

“Why am I even here?” You said groaning. “The work is done. The albums done. What do you possibly need for me now?” You added.

“Come to tour with us.” Jeff said, his manager persona now showing.

“What?”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t in the contract Jeff.”

“Consider this, an impromptu decision.” He reasoned with you.

“I’ll do only concerts. No interviews. No playing for videos and no recordings.” You said.

“Deal.”

You huffed a breath as you reached for the glass of water next to you. “That’s mine!” Harry whined. You flipped him off as you wore your sunglasses and went to sleep.

“Oh y/n what’s your Instagram?” Jeff asked. You scoffed at his question, “don’t have one.” You simply said. “Well, Harry follows his band members so-”

“No.” and with that you went to sleep.

—————————————

The album was a success to say the least. Everyone seemed to recognise Harry as Harry styles and not as Harry from One Direction. It was bitter sweet to say the least. Harry was excited and enthralled to be able to embark a whole new journey.

The album release party was a success. But you weren’t there, Harry had called you not once but twice asking you why you weren’t there.

“Y/n, it’s already six, why aren’t you at the party?” Harry asked you on call.

“Because I didn’t plan on going.” A short answer. Your one word answers now began to become a bit longer but they annoyed Harry nonetheless.

“The whole band’s here.”

“I’m not part of your band Harry. I helped you write your songs.” You stated.

“But you’re going to tour with us.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

And now as Harry stood in front of the stage, waiting for the crowd to pour in, he wondered where you were. You had insisted on driving to the show venue on your own instead of travelling with the band. Harry tried to persuade you but you didn’t budge.

“Is she here?” Harry asked Jeff who only nodded no. Harry was getting worried now. He was supposed to get ready, but he was much to engaged in wondering about your whereabouts. It was his first show and your words about him being scared rang in his head.

“She’ll be here don’t worry.” Jeff said.

By the time Harry got ready, he spotted you, a cigarette in your mouth as you look towards the stage. You wore a latex, dark emerald coloured waistcoat that resembled a corset. It pushed your breasts together and ended just above the curve of your waist. You wore low waisted black bell bottoms. The waistcoat and the bell bottoms gave off the illusion of an hourglass figure. Your eyes were covered in your signature feline eyeliner, curving in the inner and outer corner of your eye.

“Y/n!” Harry called your name. You looked up at him, a lazy smile on your face as you disposed the cigarette.

“My my look at you styles. A fucking prince you are.” You said snickering. Harry stuck his tongue out at you. He wore a red blazer clad with black flowers and the same pattern was all over his trousers. His hair were unruly yet only added to his charm.

“Ya scared?” You asked him.

“No. I mean, I’m just…. excited yet scared you know?”

“Hmm.”

“You stick out like a sore thumb.” Harry said, his eyebrows raised at you as he scanned you up and down.

“Excuse me for not wanting to dress up as a fucking rainbow.” You said scowling at Harry who passed you a smile. “Y’know what would really go well with your top?” Harry said, his eyes twinkling. “What?”

“Wait.” Harry ran off of to his dressing room, fetching a silver cross necklace. The cross was heavy and large, engraved with swirls and very small rubies decorating it. Harry gestured you to turn around, his hands brushed against your skin as he snapped it’s lock in place. The cross rested against the curve of your breasts, demanding attention and praise. “How about a hickey to tie your look together?” Harry questioned.

“From you? Not even in your dreams Styles.” You said. Harry smirked at you and went towards the stage.

—————————————

Harry felt alive. He felt free and invincible on stage. But you, you were the personification of sex. The minute Kiwi began to play, the crowds focus shifted from Harry to you.

You whipped your hair back and forth, your back arching, a cigarette encased in your pink lips, sweat gleaming down the curves of your waist, breasts and arms. The crowd went absolutely wild as you winked at them. Harry’s photographer, Lloyd was entranced with you. He couldn’t help but photograph you. Your eyebrows were sinched together in focus, your eyes closed, your mouth slightly open and your body fully arched.

After the first concert, the fans and media were deep diving into who you were and tried to uncover your identity. As the tour progressed, the crowd began to make posters stating things like “we’re here for y/n!” “Give us y/n!”

There were pictures of you everywhere, playing the guitar as your face morphed into an expression which Harry called your “orgasm face.”

Harry was asked about you during interviews as well, the media was left questioning about your identity and they found themselves allured by a recent stunt you pulled at a concert.

You jumped off the stage during Medicine and went up to a man, roughly around your age if not older. The man lit the cigarette in your mouth with his lighter as you winked at him and murmured “thank you love.”

—————————————

The tour had finally ended. You were in your dressing room, your chest heaving up and down. The adrenaline after the show still lingering in your blood stream. You removed your top and were standing in your bra, the minute Harry barged in.

“Knock on my door ya’dick!” You said, crossing your arms over your chest which did nothing at all to ease Harry since your breasts were pushed up.

After months of sexual tension, Harry finally felt himself crack.

“Got to teach you some manners.” You murmured.

“Really?” He tutted, pulling you by the loop of your jeans.

You understood where this was heading. “Hmm.” You hummed, moving your hands slowly on the buttons of his shirt. Harry caught your wrist making you look up at him. He looked in your eyes, deep and seriously as if to contemplate his actions. You pulled him by his neck, close enough that your foreheads touched.

“M’gonna regret this.” He whispered. He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he connected his lips to yours, his tongue swirling in your mouth. His hands wandered down the curve of your spine and lingered there. You deepened the kiss, letting your hunger overpower you. He wasn’t close enough, you needed his skin next to yours, rubbing, you needed to feel him, you needed him.

There was a knock on the door, you immediately recoil away from Harry although his hands were still on your bare back. “Y/n, Vanessa’s here for you.” Laura, his assistant said.

Vanessa and you were supposed to head out to paris the next morning. Harry felt a hole cave in his chest, remembering about your departure.

“I’ll be there.” You said.

You kissed Harry, a sweet and soulful kiss. Not the one that was ruled with consumption and the urge to mark.

“You should stay.” Harry whispered, holding you.

“I never stay anywhere for too long.”

Harry looked at you, his eyes staring into yours as you squeezed his hand. “Who’re you gonna strangle now?” You laughed remembering all the times you tried to strangle and choke him, resting your head on his chest.

“I’ve got to go.” You said, slipping out of his grip, slipping on a tee shirt as you picked up your stuff.

Harry looked at you with a look of longing. How stupid. How cruel. How unfair. He thought to himself as he saw you leave.

“When will I see you again?” He asked you.

“When it’s the right time.” You said, kissing his cheek.

——————————————

Authors note; how are we feeling about a part two? let me know in the comments section <3

#harry's house album #harry styles x reader #harry x y/n #harry imagine #harry fanfic #harry styles blog #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #famous!harry #enemies to lovers #harry styles #one direction #harry one direction #harry one shot

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xxzlushiez · 11 months

Note

Can you do tom x f!reader who's in the band and they were always like bestfriends no feelings for eachother or anything but as they get older like around 2007/08 he starts to realize he's totally in love w/ reader and tries to get rid of his feelings by sleeping w/ a bunch of girls but nothing helps because he can only think of reader? And they end up going to a party together and having fun and shii and then they end up on a balcony outside just drinking out of solo cups totally plastered and tom confesses to reader and kisses her but reader is super shocked and surprised and doesn't really know what to say so she doesn't kiss him back and just stares at him, and he doesn't take it very well he's just like "...oh.." and then gets up and reader tries to stop him and he's like "no, no I'm just gonna go back to the party" and stumbles out w/ a broken heart but in reality reader liked him back too but didn't know she did until he confesses so over the next few weeks she realizes how much she's in love with him and she goes to his room to tell him all romantic and shit and they end up having soft sex (or not wtv you're comfortable with) ty sm!! I love your writing btw!

EEEHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE IM SO EXCITED TO DO THIS (and tysm for the compliment❤️)

Miscommunication

T! Kaulitz x F! Reader

Synopsis: you and Tom have always been good friends, but he realizes he wants to be more..what’ll happen when those feelings don’t falter?

Notes: 18+, Name is in the band, flashbacks to ‘Devilish’, drinking, getting drunk, concerts, parties, jealousy, talks of unrequited feelings, Tom being a attention whore💀, insecurities, platonic! Bill x reader, oral, soft sex, underlying sub! Tom (I hate using that word but idk how else to describe it???)

A/N:tysm Anon for requesting and I hope this lives up to your expectations, I decided to right this in normal style instead of bullet points, I hope you don’t mind. This is was frustrated I wanted to get it out on the 3rd😭 bro this is a few days later and it took so long because i just hate the way it turned out im so pissed at myself rn

“I act like I don’t care, that’s cause I don’t care”

For as long as you’ve lived you and Tom have stuck together like glue, you lived a few streets away but being one of the only kids their age in the neighborhood it was hard for you to not gravitate towards them.

You guys weren’t exactly alike, but more like you complimented each other, he was all brash and broody like almost every other boy going through puberty and you were kind and sweet always helping whenever it was needed.

Soon you were invited into a band that consisted of two other troublemaking kids you hadn’t met yet, you traveled around to small talent shows and state fairs to perform music. It was a rough start; you weren’t popular by any means and were made fun of for what you liked to do.

It didn’t get to you like it got to Tom yet you let him rant and yell about it to you because you knew, along with everyone else, that it was just a matter of time before you five would be praised for your talents instead of bullied.

And you were, your band became a hit, Devilish became Tokio Hotel, garage performances became studio practices, and backyard shows slowly became country-wide concerts. Tom also changed, from a little boy who would yell at anyone who messed with his friends to a teen that couldn’t even bother with people hating.

It was different, you were all different, but it was a good difference. Bill became confident, Tom became more open, Gustav wasn’t shy, and Georg was well…Georg was amazing to begin with, it just doubled. The few fans that consisted of you guy’s parents and a few old neighbors became thousands, girls and boys alike paid to come and watch the five of you perform live.

When 2009 rolled around you were known across all of Germany and a few other countries. You couldn’t have been more successful, as the years progressed Tom morphed into someone completely different. Everyone knew of his reputation, a boy who had a new girl in his car every day.

You guys didn’t drift per se, but you didn’t talk about all the things like you used to. That was okay, some things are better left unsaid, but it was weird. You both used to talk to each other about everything and it just changed so suddenly it left you confused for a while.

But you learned to accept the fact that he wasn’t the same and took advantage of that time to get closer to the rest of the band, especially Bill. He became your number 1, always there with you whether it be shopping to helping you get ready. This was one of those instances where you ended up in your shared hotel room with him and Tom.

“This is going to look really good on your Name I promise!”

You let Bill practice his makeup skills on you, a little hesitant at first because of the particular style but when you saw how his face lit up when you agreed you couldn’t say no. Bill also said the style suited you perfectly.

Tonight, was particularly special compared to other nights. It was a large party hosted by a company in celebration of Tokio Hotel’s rise to fame. Bill made it a goal to doll you up in fancy lipstick and glittery eyeshadow before leaving, which Tom wasn’t too keen on.

“Bill hurry up the party starts in like 20 minutes.”

You looked over a Tom from the corner of your eye. He was sprawled out on your bed flicking through the channels on the hotel’s tv. He was already ready and had been ready for at least an hour now.

“Be patient Tommy not everyone can just wear whatever they find on the floor.”

Bill let out a laugh when he saw how offended his brother got at your insult before turning back and applying pretty shade to your lips.

“Tom wah wah hurry up the party starts in 20 minutes blah blah blah!”

He mocked his brother in a high-pitched voice before pulling his brother from the bed and onto the hard floor with a thump! grabbing your hand and running out of the room leaving him behind as you laugh.

“What the fuck you two! Get back here, I’m literally your ride to the party!”

———

The party was boring if you were being honest. But that was probably just you. There was no one you knew except the band and some celebrities and they were all doing their own thing so you were stuck lying on one of the many plush sofas the company had lying around.

Your eyes trailed over to Tom as he walked towards you, handing you a vibrant red solo cup while he settled himself next to you on the couch, moving your legs to lay comfortably over his lap while you stared at the contents of the cup.

“What’re you doing just sitting here? You’re always in the mood to party.”

He was right, you loved to party. It was one of the only times you could let loose when on tour. Today you just weren’t feeling it like you usually were.

“I don’t know, I think it’s the fact that I ordered a Pina Colada and got vodka. But who knows.”

He hummed as he absentmindedly observed the area. Tom had an unusual habit of wanting to be around you but never talking, preferring silence, it never bothered you so you let your head lay against the armchair swirling the drink around in your hand as you observed him.

He was never really good at taking your compliments, always avoiding them in some way with a “What’re you talking about?” Or the “Name just shut the fuck up”. You figured it had to do with the whole ‘I’m too cool for compliments’ thing he had going on, but it never stopped you from slipping up and saying something every once in a while.

“You're so beautiful Tom” and he was, honestly. His eyes reflected the neon lights that flashed above giving him that euphoric effect, the curves and dips of his face were perfectly sculpted to him. His true smile was so unbelievably cute, one that only you and the band had the pleasure of seeing, and his laugh…oh my god his laugh. You were definitely drunk. Whatever.

He gave you a quick side eye at the sudden praise before getting up and grabbing the cup out of your hand successfully spooking you.

“Let’s go smoke.”

‘Let’s go smoke’ was usually his way of saying “you're being annoying, let's get high” but you nodded and took his waiting hand as he led you through the busy crowd and out some double doors.

When out on the fairly sized balcony he grabbed a joint from out of one of the side pockets on his pants, while you flicked open your lighter that you had found stuffed under some gum and candy wrappers in your handbag.

He always enjoyed it when you smoked together, the delicate flame illuminated your face just enough to see the features that he’d always admired. Maybe that’s why he hated it when you complimented him, because he always wanted to do the same but couldn’t.

Nervousness wasn’t something he felt. There was no reason for him to be nervous. Nerves were for insecurity, anxiousness, that was bullshit to him, well until it came to you, and that oh so familiar feeling bubbled up in his stomach when you looked at him under the dim light.

He concluded that he had a thing for you pretty early on, when he was about 16. One time you pulled a fan on stage that you told the band you found particularly attractive. Bill teased you and Georg and Gustav laughed as you all made your way to the bus, but he stayed back. Deciding that the pit in his stomach wasn’t jealousy like he thought it might be and just that natural protective feeling for a friend.

He didn’t want to think about the possibility that he liked you. You’d always been best friends and that was how it was supposed to say. He remembers how Bill would always tell him “Being best friends with someone like Name isn’t a good idea” because he wouldn’t wanna be just friends. Bill was right and that scared him.

After that realization he took notice of who he gravitated towards in hookups, they all looked in some way, like you. He thought it was weird. It wasn’t like he selectively picked out the ones with similar features as you…right?

“-Tom, are you listening? Pass the joint you hog”

You plucked the blunt from his hand and he stared as you inhaled some of it, releasing the air into his face, looking at him with a weird expression. You watched him stride forward and suddenly his lips were pressed against yours.

You pulled away after a few antagonizing seconds and hesitantly looked at him. You saw the way his face dropped, probably realizing what he just did. Shit.

“Tom I... you're drunk. It’s fine, okay? You won’t remember this in the morning let’s just...let’s just go home, okay?”

That nerve quickly turned into frustration as he rolled his eyes turning towards the entrance and muttering something under his breath before pushing through the doors back into the party, leaving you alone on the cold balcony with a burnt out joint and heart.

———

It had been a few weeks since the incident on the balcony, and you concluded that he did remember it the day after as he wouldn’t talk or even be around you alone. It was fine at first, but by the time the second week rolled around it was starting to affect everyone else.

His performance was slower than normal, and he brought more girls to the hotel who unsurprisingly leaked where he was were staying and crowded around the hotel to catch a glimpse of the five of you.

He was being so unprofessional; he didn't give you time to voice your feelings about what happened and just up and left you in the dark. Like how do you even bring that up?

“Hey Tom, yeah I know that I didn’t kiss you back even though you totally unexpectedly pounced on me and it looked like I rejected you because I thought you were full-on plastered but like I’m in love with you so could you stop ignoring me?”

Yeah, that’s a no. So, you just endured it for a while until he decided to lay off. That point happened around the 3-week mark when the band was on a small break from tour.

He made it his goal to stay inside his room the whole time, sulking as Bill told you. You were at ends meet, if he couldn’t just talk to you about it like adults then you would have to do it yourself.

This leads up to the moment where you’re standing in front of his door contemplating all your life choices.

Crrrrrreeeakkk

Are you serious, the one time you were hesitant about your decision he just had to open the door and make it for you?

“Name?”

“Hey, Tom uhh..can we talk about the party?” This is so awkward. What the fuuck.

He stood there hesitant for a second before opening up the door for you to come in. You ducked under his arm and situated yourself at the edge of his bed as he stared at you from the doorway.

“Okay um..so I’ve been thinking a lot about that moment and I just wanted to ask you something.”

He gave you a small nod of acknowledgment and you continued.

“Do you like me? Like I don’t know if the reason you kissed me was just heat of the moment and you just got upset because you were drunk and your feelings were all mixed or something but I really want us to go back to normal…I miss you a lot and it's weird not seeing you at our practices”

You watched him closely for any signs of discomfort but his face was unwavering except for a light smile at your words easing your nerves only a little.

“I like you; I’ve liked you for years And Scheiße I miss you too but don’t wanna be just your friend anymore and if that changes things between us just forget about this whole thing”

You smiled softly walking towards him and cupping his face with your hands, bringing your lips to his feeling him relax into you.

His breath caught in his throat when you grazed your fingers against the front of his pants, slightly palming him through the jeans when he abruptly pulled your hand away.

“Name I wanna do this with you…but I don’t wanna have sex like I normally do. I want it to mean something because you really mean something, I just don’t know how”

“Let me show you, Tom.”

——

Tom groaned when your lips pressed against his pelvis, muscles flexing underneath you at the feeling. You hummed in contentment before coming back up to him and giving him a quick kiss and taking off his boxers.

He’d never had someone take their time on him, it was foreign, different, you looked so pretty as you toyed with his cock. Seeing what made him shiver and what gave him goosebumps.

Laying your tongue flat you licked a thick strip up the underside of his dick watching the way his eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Mhm…just- just like that Name please mhm…keep going.”

Voice slightly weak, he begged you to continue, not like you’ve ever heard and it encouraged you to continue, hands slick with his precum you stroked him at a controlled pace, squeezing slightly at the head hearing his soft curses get louder.

“Let’s empty that brain of yours ‘mkay?”

While you made yourself comfortable on top of him you felt his hips shift under you, his hands finding place on your hips. You align yourself with his cock, sliding down and listening to the way he mutters your name like a prayer as his cock disappears inside you.

“Shit this is much better than I ever imagined… s’much better...” his eyes raked your body seeing his hips met your thighs. You push down on his legs to keep him steady and use them as leverage to grind against him. Not even minutes later did his quiet concealed groans turn into gasps and random obscenities.

Seeing your pace begin to slow he flips himself over taking you with him, letting your legs rest flush against his shoulders next to his ears. He experimentally rocks his hips finding a comfortable rhythm, laying his hand flat on your stomach feeling at the bulge.

Now it was your turn to be a noisy mess, covering your face with a pillow in an attempt to muffle yourself but it was quickly discarded somewhere on the floor by Tom.

“Don’t- don’t do that- you look so pretty writhing under me like that, I could stare at you all day…shit shit shit.. if you keep tightening around me, I won’t last long...”

You smiled as you looked up at him. His eyes were closed tight and his jaw was clenched tight, focused on how you squeezed around him. You let your hand travel to his face tracing his features. His eyes opened at the touch and he sucked in his breath, feeling his high approaching.

You were glowing, your hair fanned out on the bed, your eyes slightly glassy from his pace, sweat collecting on your hairline, suddenly every part of him felt so sensitive and his lips connected with yours before his hips stuttered letting out a guttural moan making sure you had ridden through your orgasm.

You cried out in his neck holding him against you as he continued for a little longer before coming to a halt, collapsing on top of you. Holding you against him in a vice grip.

“I love you Name, a lot”

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killshotbabe · 1 year

Text

Title | Overheated

Pairing | high school friend’s crush/bf!Jeno x reader ft. nct dream (minor appearance)

Warnings | minors dni! mention of smoking and alcohol consumption, use of swear words, reader stuck in an “uncomfortable” situation, close proximity, drunk!reader at some point, sexual tension, cheating/affair, jeno gaslights reader (or does he really?), fingering, implied solo masturbation, slight somnophilia, a bit "dub non-con" in the beginning, overstimulation, sex under the influence (reader only), dirty talk, unprotected sex (please wear protection!), implied public sex, no romance in any type of context

Word count | 4.5k

Song(s) | red - santino le saint, link up - kid travis

A.N | May or may not have dreamed about the idea of this lol. Just finished it today so happy valentines! (this one-shot won't make you blush that way...)

You’re not sure why your friend decided to it would be a good idea to go out with someone like him to begin with.

At first, you thought she’d get over him like usual, hoping it’s just a part of her “hyper-fixations” just like how she’s got maybe five crushes all at once (from what you can recall in one of those nights you spent hanging out in her bedroom) but much to your horror, it wasn’t as simple as that.

You remember her gawking at him at the cafeteria after she had jokingly pinched you, nudging you to check him out in which caused to roll your eyes and proceed to open the cap of your cold tea.

You didn’t care about crushes at all, and yes, he was cute, handsome even but the only thing that piqued your interest at the moment was that sleek navy blue motorcycle he brought to school. You’ve always wanted one and to say that you were jealous of him flexing one at such young age is nothing but an understatement — you wanted what he had even if you couldn’t afford it.

And that wasn’t fair to you. Not when he barely has to do anything when you’re out here working part-time at a pizza parlour and you can barely even pay half of the bills at home.

Him and his old money status can go to hell, you think. He doesn’t even need to show up to any of his classes and you’re one-hundred percent sure he’ll be able to get into any top universities so easily, he just has to maybe tell his parents—

“Hey, are you listening?”

You blink away from your train of thought, the faint bustle of the library buzzing into your ear.

You realize you’re still in the same place for about three hours now, trying to study with the same friend (which would be your only friend, not best friend yet though because you don’t like getting attached to things, let alone actual people) who had been yapping about him for the past hour, and you may or may not have told her to shut the fuck up in your head twice.

“Wait, sorry.” You lie, typing away as your friend broke into a sly grin after finally catching your attention. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m gonna talk to Jeno today.”

Jeno.

Him.

You couldn’t help but squint, almost bursting out of laughter.

You didn’t mind your friend at all.

She was fun, even if she’s the complete opposite of you. Loved cute things like pastel colours, calico critters and dressed the part as 1/4 of the future art majors in your campus (quirky, and she happened to obsessed with colour yellow), and collects a shit ton of squishmallows she even has a separate storage for it. She’s literally the true epitome of cute, preppy and pure.

Way too pure when it comes to that said department actually.

You weren’t even sure how someone like you were friends with her, and why she wouldn’t leave you alone but she was quite persistent with you — having to initiate things first after meeting you then following you around until you decided to just let her have at it.

Ever since then the two of you had been inseparable.

Though that didn’t mean you two were automatically best friends (even if she did say this a couple of times) and you would be lying if you saw it that way too when she mostly talked about herself, her hobbies, her interests, etc. unlike you who just sits there and listens, nodding your head off as if you do agree (mostly you don’t because you can’t relate or it’s just not your style) but you don’t really have the heart to tell her that… not when she’s generally nice and hasn’t really done anything to offend you.

You just admire the fact that she keeps dragging you around and never gave up on you. You don’t even know what made her want to work her butt off to earn your approval and have her invade your space like that, but you guessed that maybe she’s just someone you might need in your life.

…And that maybe, she’s there for a reason you can’t quite guess.

She hasn’t done anything stupid anyway.

…Until today.

“What?”

You balked, brows raised as she sighed dreamily, already planning her wedding dress for when she ends up marrying Jeno, her “soon-to-be high school sweetheart” as she mentioned just a few times and might have tried to manifest too with you in her room in front of her mini crystal collection she’s been obsessed with lately.

“I’m gonna say hi to him today! I’m sick of him not knowing who I am.”

If anything, you weren’t really surprised with this sudden revelation.

It was about time for her to finally try to introduce herself to him after crushing on him for two months now, and you do know she would have the great confidence to almost pursue anything, including him but you didn’t really want this day to come (hell, the thought of it was already dreadful) because you already knew what was bound to happen once she approaches him.

It’s like… surrendering a fawn to a den full of lions, and you can’t do anything but watch her get eaten, figuratively-speaking.

“You don’t look too happy, but that won’t stop me y’know.”

She winked mischievously, stealing a tomato chip off your lunch as you shook your head, a little smile playing on the edge of your lips.

“Do whatever you want but don’t rope me into your shit.”

You shrugged only to earn a scowl from her, her round eyes practically begging you to tag along when she introduces herself to him later on.

“But… c’mon! You don’t even have to say anything you just have to be there for moral support, pretty please?”

You could only sigh, pausing whatever you were doing just to look at her in the eye, already incapable of saying ‘no’ to her because in your defense she looked too cute.

You couldn’t afford to break her heart by saying no.

“Fine… whatever! Just get me ice cream after then we’re good.”

“Oh, I was about to say that too in case he rejects me ha ha,” she laughs off as she sipped on her watered down mango juice. “But at least I tried, yes? Then we can just enjoy our little ice cream date but I might cry…”

You weren’t even worried about that all, but you don’t say that part to your friend because guys like Jeno fancied cute girls.

Especially the innocent ones.

And your friend just might be the perfect girl for him.

To say that you weren’t right would be a goddamn lie, and you wished you were anywhere else but here, inside Jeno’s black sports car, the posh leather seat cold under your lap.

It’s been a month since the day your friend had introduced herself to him with such spark in her eyes you thought Jeno’s friends might have fallen for her too. One of them was even eyeing her from head to toe, visibly amused after seeing her short little skirt hugging her little frame.

Your friend, on top of being the real embodiment of cute, was still gorgeous and easy on the eyes, so it didn’t really surprise you when Jeno ended up giving his number to her as you tucked yourself away from his plain sight, hiding behind your much shorter friend when she confessed her feelings to him with so much confidence, it made you gag.

You weren’t really sure what happened overnight but just a week after, you found yourself on your own as your friend started hanging out with Jeno, his friends and their equally cute “girlfriends”, but she still made sure to spend half of her lunch break with you, even trying to drag you to their table but you could only reject her offer and excuse yourself because you had to catch up on an “assignment” when in reality, you would rather sit in the library by yourself than sit with them.

Then, today, you and your friend was supposed to go shopping by train but what she didn’t tell you was Jeno was gonna be there to drive the two of you so you don’t have to commute on the way to the mall and on the way back.

At first, you fumed having to deal with him being in an inclosed space as you, but it was indeed cold outside now that it’s halfway October and you certainly didn’t want to wait for the train with you friend in this type of weather (and maybe you did want to see his car up close and personal…) so you begrudgingly agreed, letting her yank you off your misery and plunge you into it all when she voluntarily pushed you to the backseat, your eyes drifting to Jeno who’s still talking to one of his friends, Mark, another guy from his group you do find just as attractive.

You could only roll your eyes as your friend wore her seatbelt on, giddily humming to herself. You gradually shifted your attention elsewhere, quite amazed with the clean and sleek interior of his car, but again it made sense.

Jeno was neat, never messy.

“Sorry, Mark was being clingy.”

You briefly hear him quickly apologize with a low chuckle as he slipped behind the wheel, his classy, citrusy scent invading your senses.

You cross your arms and looked away, trying to get him off your head as your friend’s slightly high-pitched voice cooed him “it”s okay!” and that “we can wait” ultimately, ignoring that fact that she just called him “babe” after.

This was one major thing you couldn’t bring yourself to fully admit — the fact that he’s now officially “seeing” your friend not even after a few months in which you felt no ounce of happiness about.

Your friend did inform you about it just a few nights before when she asked if you could come over and watch a scary movie with her because she noticed you were too busy and had no time with her (and you did feel bad because even if she’s always with him, she till spent some time with you only for you to run away for the most part) but she didn’t confront you about it at all.

If anything, it seemed like the usual chill nights you’d share with her until she brought him up and dropped the bomb on you without some sort of a warning beforehand especially when she can tell you’re not fond of Jeno nor his friends.

It felt like a sick joke, and it just feels like you friend is doing her best to make you change your mind about him which you don’t plan on doing so, not when you catch him doing PDA with your friend here and there you couldn’t help but swear at him in your head and look away.

The more time you had to spend with those two, sometimes with their friends, made you want to crumble or run off to the opposite direction.

They were exactly like what you imagined them to be, a couple of rich, privileged kids with filthy heads, the filth your friend is too innocent to be able discern.

They were sneaky about it too especially that Haechan guy who might have tried to get into your pants before, and you hated him so bad you had to tell him to back off you in which he called you feisty in return with the sinister promise of “you’ll want me someday.” before he left you to go smoke.

The rest of the group hasn’t really said anything to you yet. Sometimes they did but it was shallow and the girls hated your guts which is fair because you hated them as much (and with passion too). The only person you could perhaps stand in the group was Renjun.

The guy didn’t make any back-handed comments and he kept to himself for the most part but he did flash you a gaze occasionally wondering why you’re even here to begin with when it’s so damn obvious you don’t like anyone except your friend who always made sure you were included even if you tried to get away, and when you do try… it always ends with her getting what she wants.

And now you’re here, lost in your thoughts as you bore your full attention to the rows of yellow lights in the tunnel, the loud laughter your friend shared with Jeno mocking you.

He did leave the two of you alone to go shopping, and just came back to pick the you up as promised, then he’s supposed to drop you off first before her then they might go on a date like she told you earlier with so much excitement she couldn’t even choose between the two purses at a high-end store you were helping to choose from.

In the end, the two of you walked out the store satisfied — her with a new heart-shaped purse and you with a cashmere scarf you’ve been fancying on for months now that was on sale (which did hurt your bank account but your friend offered to pay half of it so you can just pay her back with instalments) this then provided some sort of a distraction for you, even offering to buy her a warm drink from the cafe as a sweet treat but since Jeno was already parked by the exit, you had to hurry.

They were still giggling as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the urge to strap your headphones around your head getting stronger the more you tuned in, even rolling your eyes when Jeno asked for her hand so he could give it a kiss as if you weren’t just there, witnessing the horrors.

Much to your looming demise, you try to relax and lay your head back with a determined attempt to lull yourself to quick nap anyway since your apartment is around thirty minutes away, so you fold your arms, turned your head to face the window and closed your eyes.

Not even ten minutes later, just when you were about to actually let sleep take over, your hear the deep rumble of Jeno’s voice.

“She’s asleep isn’t she?”

There was a slight movement from your friend, causing you to hold your breath as you feel her check on you.

“Yep, she did say she was tired.”

“She doesn’t talk much. Why are you even friends with her?”

Jeno snickered, taunting you from the rear-view mirror as you tried your best not to reach out and strangle him god willing.

He doesn’t even know you like that.

“She’s nice! Just give her some time.” You friend sighed, defending your honour which you almost snorted at but pretending to be asleep at this very moment was more ideal for you, you think.

You pushed yourself to further into the door, eyelids slightly parting just in time to see him give her a sleazy wink before you saw his hand land on her lap, making your heart drop at the sight.

You weren’t sure if you liked where this was going at all.

“She’s sleeping Jeno…”

You clawed on your sleeved, clenching your jaw when you hear Jeno whisper rather suggestively.

You knew it was meant for your friend, but he didn’t even bother hiding it, assuming you’re fully knocked out at the back seat.

“If you can keep it down, she won’t know.”

You swore you almost cried, knuckles turning white for how hard you formed into fists when you hear your friend’s shy giggles which enveloped to a series of quiet moans from the front seat when he began touching her down there as he drove, the soft r&b blaring from his speakers in an attempt to suppress the noises your friend was trying so hard to hide so she won’t wake you up, when in reality, you were very much awake to witness all of this happening.

At this point, you genuinely wished you were dead, begging for the door to just unlatch itself so you can slide off your seat and fall into the road to your death than sit here, being forced to hear your friend let out a strangled moan as he fingered her, easily dragging her close to her peak.

You wanted it to stop — for them to just cut it out and put an end to your nightmare but it only got worse as the time went by.

You can practically hear the lewd noises Jeno was making with his fingers as he played with her sheer arousal and the way he was talking to her in such a dirty manner for the sole purpose to make her cum in which she violently did just a few minutes later, an animalistic high-pitched squeak leaving her lips before she heaving and moaning his name shakily with him still fucking her with fervour, overstimulating her.

The subsequent scarlet hue spread on your cheeks, heating your face up, second-hand embarrassment kicking in as you chewed on your lip until you drew blood from your cracked ones, neck craning all the way to your side so your scarf could hide the horrified expression on your face.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or laugh — cry because he had the audacity to finger your friend at your presence or laugh because of the high-pitched noise your friend made. You think it’s a mixture of both and you think you might have gone clinically insane from that alone as this was not a part of your bingo card.

It’s only been a few weeks. Have they fucked already?

You try to contain yourself as you kept still when you hear them share a languid kiss in which your friend giggled to before she flashed you a quick gaze, making sure you were in fact, still asleep.

“She probably didn’t hear that did she?”

“I’m sure she didn’t.” Jeno’s mocking tone caused you to move slightly, but not enough to make him think you were awake all along.

Your neck became stiff after what seemed like forever, and as much as you wanted to stay in this painful position you knew you had rouse yourself up just because you couldn’t handle “sleeping” anymore, so you waited until your friend led him to your street as she navigated for him.

It was then the only time you stirred yourself up, alerting the both of them that you were now “awake.”

“Hey, sleepy head!”

You yawned, trying to look at her in the eye in the dark as you borrowed into your scarf, hiding half of your face.

“Yo.”

You diverted your to the windows and recognized your surroundings as the car halted just in front of your apartment complex, relief surging through you in sudden realization that you’re finally home.

“Thank god.”

You murmured under your breath, hand already fixed to the door handle, about to yank yourself out of there when your friend stopped you just before you can leave.

“See you next week!”

She piped up, her pupils shaking in pure excitement you almost asked what the hell she smoked to look like that when you already knew it was due to post-orgasm high.

You couldn’t help but to mirror her expression, but with a completely different reason.

You think you might want to commit right there if you kept smiling for ten more seconds, much like an unhinged criminal.

“Yeah! See you and thanks for the ride, Jeno.”

“Anytime.”

You see him nod at you, acknowledging your thankful nature (he probably though you were incapable of doing that) before you sprinted off, the two of them watching you attentively as you pushed yourself inside the lobby, cursing vehemently under your breath.

You didn’t even sleep that night, not when you find your underwear being wet from your own arousal after thinking about it again.

You don’t even like Jeno to any degree and yet, you still dreamed of him but not for good reasons.

Not at all.

And if your friend was to find out, it would be game over.

“I might have a friend who can take me in so Tony can come and fix this.”

You sigh, seeing as how the flooding got worse over the weekend due to the nonstop rainy weather and you, unfortunately, still rents the basement of a hosting family your mother personally knew but since they were on vacation in the UK and the main floor is locked, you can’t even access the floor and camp in the couch until the flooding issue gets fixed.

You’ve been on the phone with your host for an hour now explaining everything, and that they were going dispatch a friend to fix the damage shortly but still advised you that you’ll probably want to look for a friend to sleep over at for the mean time which you were okay with but you didn’t really want to do that even if you had no choice.

Hotels were costly so you dialled your only friend anyway whilst chugging what’s left from your coffee cup before tossing it in the nearby bin.

You’re in a local library now, left with nothing but a small suitcase you hastily shoved most of your every day necessities in to cover one week’s worth. Your host did say it should be okay to come back in a week or less so you made sure not to overpack, and you didn’t really want to stay there for longer, not when the slightly murky water felt cold around your feet.

“What? Are you serious!”

You sighed for what seemed like the 100th time today as you told your friend the whole situation.

“Not sure if this is going work but do you think you can take me in?” You inwardly groaned. “I can pay you.”

“Boo, I wish I can but my aunt’s over with my cousins I don’t have a space for you. Maybe after four days? They leave on Friday!”

“Well that won’t work, thank you though. I’ll go find a hotel—”

“No, no that’s going to be more expensive I can get someone to take you in though if that’s ok?”

You hummed, picking on your nail at the thought. Might as well give it a try.

“Sure…?”

“Ok, great! Give me a sec!”

You hear some sort of a movement from the other line before you hear your friend’s muffled voice once again.

“I just texted Jeno! He should be done working out right now. Where are you?”

“What?!” You let out a harsh whisper, trying to calm down realizing you’re in fact, still in a library. “Jeno—? I didn’t even agree just yet!”

“Well, he’s the only person I one-hundred percent trust with you even if you guys don’t talk but he’s got a huge place you can stay in and then he can even pick both of us up for school!”

“No,” You clutched your head in annoyance, trying your best not to hiss. “I— I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why? He already said he can do that though just now and I really don’t want you to spend money in a hotel. Too expensive. Good luck with Jeno though because he’ll say no with paying so you’re in good hands!” She laughed a little, making you huff on the other line. “Please? Maybe you guys can be friends. It gets so awkward when I’m with the both of you and you don’t even talk to him…”

“It’s just…” You try to explain. “I don’t know I feel like it’s so rude of me to just—”

“Honey, you’re not being rude! He literally said yes, and he’s got like two cars over there that you might like. If you ask nicely, maybe he can let you drive one to school? How about that?”

You wished she didn’t mention that at all, especially knowing that sport scars were your weakness in general and Jeno happened own two more aside from the one he drives to school.

You weren’t even sure if you had any ounce of dignity left at this point.

Hotels were costly, and you didn’t want to ask your mom for money to spend in a hotel thinking you’ve got a friend to cover for you, plus what you make from your part-time job wasn’t enough to foot the bill if you were to opt for a hotel.

If it was someone else, perhaps Mark or Renjun, you would probably agree without missing a beat (not like they would offer themselves in the first place, but if they did, you’d rather be with them) but this was Jeno.

The guy you’re friend is “seeing” and the same guy you thought about that night when you shouldn’t have.

You don’t even know if you could look at him in the eye anymore, and now you would have to stay over because he’s that nice?

“Heeeey, are you okay? I thought you ended the call for a second there.”

You cleared your throat, trying to make up your mind.

Am I gonna do this or not? Why the fuck would he even agree to this…

“I’m here sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I really want you guys to start talking… Don’t you think this is a good idea? He thinks it might be good too.”

“He said that?” You almost laugh. “Thank you, but…”

“He did actually and no buts! Do this for me please?”

“You… fine, fine…” You say as you give up, letting her win over you again.

“Okay! Yay!”

You hear her clasp her hands together before she asked where your exact location was again, intending to forward it to Jeno.

In the end, she simply gave your number to him so it would be easier, logically speaking, but you didn’t even want to save his number at all or have that exchange. It felt so weird to have him there, in your short list of contacts when you don’t even consider him a “friend” for that matter.

You weren’t even sure if you were doing your friend a “favour” even if she did say she trusts Jeno because deep down, you knew she shouldn’t be putting all the trust to him, not when you’re in the picture.

Especially not when you’re about to be confined in one space with no one else but him for god knows how long.

He didn’t even bat an eye when you slipped into the front seat of his car as he was in the middle of a conversation what you can assume would be Jaemin, blabbing something about some new pc game he got, so you strapped your seatbelt on quietly, not sure when would be the good time to thank him when you can’t even look at him in the eye.

“K, heading home. Talk later.”

He didn’t say anything either so you slowly fixed half of your attention to the road ahead of you and his one hand steering the wheel expertly, then gradually moved past that so you can finally glance up there, to his gorgeous side profile in which you admire a little.

He’s even more handsome this close, with his tall nose, perfect jawline and glowing fair skin — you thought you might have forgotten your words but you quickly look away, feeling the nervous energy course through your veins.

“No thank you?”

There was a slight tinge of tease in his tone, so you clear your throat, refusing to actually spare him another glance afraid that he might catch you looking more that you should have.

“Sorry… Just sad about the whole situation, but thank you for taking me in. I hope that’s okay with your parents…”

“Don’t worry.” He chuckled a little. “They’re in the Caribbean Islands right now. No one’s home.”

“Oh, that’s great.” You weren’t even sure if that offered some sort of relief on your end. “Always wanted to go there.”

“Maybe if you start hanging out with us more then I can take you there for the summer with the group?”

You think he might be joking, so you treat it as such, trying not to derail from what seemed like a pleasant conversation you two are actually having.

You knew your friend would be happy to hear the fact that you can actually get along just fine, but because of how you see Jeno and his friends in such a negative light, you’re not sure if you had the ability to stop being stubborn for once.

“Maybe.”

You sigh, now shifting your gaze to him again, noticing his muscular, yet lean upper body hugged by just one layer of his black turtle neck. You couldn’t help but to ogle a little, but you do look away, feeling the slight guilt creeping down your spine.

He’s literally one move away from dating your friend, so why do you find it so hard to look away? Not when there are more conventionally attractive guys in the group? Like Mark? Renjun?

I have eyes. I can look, that’s it. It won’t hurt.

“Oh, c’mon the more the merrier.” There was some sort of a drawl in his tone you couldn’t quite miss, but maybe you might have been imagining things. “Let’s see if I end up liking you enough though then maybe I’ll work so hard to drag you into the group and come with us to the Caribbean next summer vacation, yeah?”

Or were you really imagining things?

The first night wasn’t bad.

You learn that your friend wasn’t exaggerating when she did tell you he lives in a mansion.

There was a huge fountain in the middle of a private cul-de-sac, two mermaids made out of a slab of rock perched in right in the centre, flowing water trickling from the matching queen conches.

The gate was tall, and the impressive gigantic lot is nestled in what seemed like a canopy of endless tall pine trees. They literally had no neighbours close by and the entirety of the driveway was an actual boulevard, you think they could possibly fit another house over the area.

It felt like you entered a different dimension — the gated community of the rich didn’t feel real at all. Even the air felt expensive, and just when you thought that wasn’t enough, Jeno allowed you to spare a longing gaze to his two other fancy cars parked in a quadruple-door garage.

He did notice your obvious interest with the exterior of his cars so he lets you have your fun until you found yourselves darting inside his own floor which could pass as some sort of a penthouse.

You think he might not even see his parents even if they were in one house altogether halfway in. Hell, if there was party being hosted by him for two days in a row his parents won’t probably hear any of it.

“I have a spare room when the guys sleep over so you can stay there for now. Don’t think I’d have anyone over soon so you’re good.”

You stand in the middle of the spare room, checking the surroundings like some sort of a curious cat.

It was super neat, had some distinctive art pieces by the walls, but it did look like where they would hang out judging from the game consoles tucked into the black drawers under the gigantic screen tv and the mini fridge with a snack bar situated in a corner surrounded by neon lights.

“Thanks again, Jeno.”

You tell him as he leaned against the doorway, a pleasant expression on his face upon noticing the way you looked awestruck with the room arrangement.

“No probs. I’m just one door away so let me know if you need anything. Usually up until 1 am. My maid isn’t here she’s on vacay so just it’s just us two.”

“Sure.”

He left you alone like that, letting you bask at thought of him even having a maid. You think he might have an entire staff like a “head chef” running the house, but sooner or later you learn they’re all on vacation since they were all related which leaves you and Jeno all alone in such a big house, though despite that, you couldn’t help but feel the foreboding anxiety blaring through you like fire alarms.

There was an itch you couldn’t pinpoint and it drove you crazy the more you stayed over, and even if the first night went equally well like normal, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt wrecking through you, so for the next two days you got in touch with Tony, the maintenance guy, in hopes to hear something positive about the situation back home so leave early.

Much to your demise, it won’t be until a few days so you gave up, trying to calm yourself down as you tucked yourself to bed right after doing your homework on your third night.

Your friend visited you a few hours before but since her and Jeno had plans for the night which involved the guys, Jeno might be coming home around dawn. You couldn’t help but feel the crash of relief to be finally alone for once which was bad for you to admit since you’re literally staying in his house for free, but having him there to share a space with made you feel too damn guarded and you hated that.

It wasn’t like he was watching you either — if anything, you’re the one who was doing more of that especially when you ate together after he offered to cook, and if he did order take-out, he asked what you wanted and delivered it right to your door just because you didn’t feel like going downstairs when you should’ve offered but upon finding out he was in the ground floor from their own home gym, you decided not to.

He didn’t even bother putting a shirt on when he knocked on your door, letting you see his bare abs through the wide split of the door so you were quiet thankful you didn’t make your way downstairs even when the damage has been done and it did nothing but make things worse for you.

“The passcode is the last four numbers of you number.”

He concluded as he gave you a quick rundown of instructions in terms of the security system.

You nodded obediently, quite touched at the fact that he made you your own designated password even if you’re only staying for a couple of days.

You weren’t friends with him yet, but he sure made things easier and was quite civilized the entire time, even putting all the trust in you to be in the house but the cams were all on so he can literally see what you would be up to unless you lock yourself in your room.

You follow closely behind him and your friend now holding hands with him as the three of you entered the garage. Your friend gave you a little pat on a head muttering a “good girl” in a light, teasing tone before they eventually drove away, leaving you by yourself for the next few hours.

You actually planned to do a mini tour and explore the other floors besides Jeno’s floor but because you didn’t want to end up falling to any “trap” doors (Jeno did mention that once as a joke but you didn’t want to risk it) you chose to stay in your room instead and watched movies on netflix with a plan to reheat the leftover pizza from last night.

Around midnight, you found yourself by the mini bar, wanting to try some of the alcohol he had so you pop a Hennessy from the glass shelf into a mug instead to pair with some sun chips to munch on at midst of a thriller movie you picked.

After downing what seemed to be a couple of glasses within the passing hours, you nursed an impending headache throbbing in your head. You could only curse, the thought of being completely hangover the next day already pissing you off.

You were more of a social drinker, but you think it’s been a while since the last time you attended a party and back then, it wasn’t so bad. You were still able to walk and say sentences incoherently after a few shots but this was worse.

You’re severely tipsy at this point, gaze all hazy as you attempt to shut the tv off, squinting over the rolling credits you can barely read off from.

You yank your crewneck over your head after feeling too hot, opting for just a mid-length slip as you tumbled out of your room, wanting to head to the bathroom with the sudden urge to splash some icy cold water on your face but you weren’t fully thinking as to where you were heading until you managed to somehow push into Jeno’s room, arms splayed in the dim-lit space.

You stumbled your way into his own bathroom adjacent to his bookcase, locking yourself in.

You were about to pass out inside, suddenly too sleepy to function but still made it out of there only to end up locating his equally large, yet better bed, his sheets cool under your skin which eased up the liquid fire running in your bloodstream.

You weren’t really sure what you did next, but the faint smell of his citrusy scent from his nice, cold sheets, you didn’t care about anything else and instead, slept through the great comfort of it all.

Unbeknownst of you, Jeno did end up going back home earlier than planned, but without your friend this time.

He was too exhausted to even notice that something was truly off by the time he got into bed, shirt off, sleep knocking him out a few minutes in.

“She won’t know.”

He placed your arms on the curve of your back as he pinned you to the wall in a hallway absent of any light.

You feel his sweet, minty breath on your nape, his strong hand tight around your wrists in a vice grip with the intention of not letting you go.

You were so breathless now, letting him do what he wished, his free hand tracing the outline of your thigh as he yanked the hem of your dress upwards, groping you from behind, whispering sinisterly in your ear before kissing the slant your shoulder, his hand snaking dangerously inside the silk fabric until he replaced your bra with his, playing with your breasts in a manner that drove you nuts.

“You’ve thought about this haven’t you?” He pressed, as you whimpered helplessly, back arched with your behind brushing against his. “Answer.”

“Y-yes…”

You sigh, unable to control the soft moan emitting from your throat when he eventually slid his hand in your underwear, callused fingers rubbing your clit now covered with pure arousal, spreading it all over your aching sensitivity.

“I didn’t even have to spit.” He hissed sardonically. “But I think you’ll like that, yeah? What do you think? Do you want me to spit on your pussy?”

“F-fuck… yeah…”

You feel him pull his fingers off you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact when you hear him spit behind you, immediately sliding his hand back into your soiled underwear after doing so, messily mixing the glob of his spit with your slick arousal you think if he kept this up, you would cum in no time without even having him fuck you at all.

“You’re disgusting…” He hummed in satisfaction, ultimately parting your pussy lips so he can pump a finger in, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your spine. “I like that.”

You hear him groan at the feeling your tight walls around his long, slender fingers, a series of swears rolling off your mouth when he began fingering you, fucking his spit into your throbbing hole all desperate for him and him only.

You rubbed your thighs together in a desperate attempt to itch the pulsating sensation between your legs, the bundle of nerves you eventually pressed on in your sleep made you whimper softly, the pleasurable feeling intensifying the more you rubbed yourself.

This was the second time Jeno had unmercilessly plagued your dreams again — like an incubus haunting you in your sleep, but in the end, he gives you what you desire — to come so hard you thought you’d black out.

You’ve never even drawn yourself to that type of high before you even knew who he was, but after what happened in the car, you couldn’t help but think of how good it would be to have him fuck you instead of your friend.

You did feel guilty for having this type of thoughts about your friend’s own boyfriend, but having him wreck havoc in your head after hours, was mind-numbing, it was almost addicting.

You’ve tried and fought so hard to stop thinking about him, trying to replace his face with someone else like Mark, or even Renjun or some other celebrity you fancied but when you’re just a minute away from reaching your peak, you can’t help but bring him back and let him take over you, his face alone making you come so hard your legs would shake as the raw lust mixed with shame riddled all over your skin.

Tonight was the same, except you were actually in his house and on his bed, touching yourself without any awareness about your surroundings and absolute care in the world, not when you had creeped your finger inside your now wet underwear, intending to finger yourself on your side, but before you could do that, you tucked yourself under the comforter seeking for warmth, back flat on the mattress as you slide your hand back in, moaning at the contact once again, legs propped with your knees bumping against each other as you played with yourself, eyes tightly shut.

“It hurts…” You whimpered lightly, still dreaming as you tilt your head to the side, brows furrowing in frustration. “I need…”

Jeno, who had been sleeping just right beside you, eventually stirred, turning to face you with a sigh, starting to be aware with the noises you were making but thought it was a part of what seemed like a dream for him too so he made no move until you inched closer and closer, now only one move away from touching him.

You’re facing him now, his familiar sweet scent elating your senses, it being the only thing to make you move faster, your middle finger playing with your growing wetness before you eventually slid it in, biting your lip at how tight you felt and wishing it was him doing it for you instead.

“Jeno…” You huff, you free hand snaking under your slip to grope your breast, hissing from how hard your nipples had gotten.

Jeno, now half-asleep, responded with a tired “hmm” as he hovered closer, his hand landing on your hip to pull you closer to him, sealing the small gap between the both of you with his face now resting on the curve of your shoulder.

He hears you purr sweetly, fingering yourself faster when you feel him lay a light kiss on your bare skin, his hand finding your jaw so he can tilt your chin up, kissing you there but deeper.

You didn’t even care anymore. No shame surging through you thinking this was a mere wet dream even if it felt too real, so real you could actually see him in the shadow but because the lights were so dim, you couldn’t make a face but his beautiful scent and warmth was more than enough.

You just needed to feel him, have him ruin you more just like how he does in your dreams.

“Aren’t you tired?” He whispered huskily, realizing you were fingering yourself when he circled his own around your wrist, stopping you. “What are you doing?”

“I want…” You mumbled, distress coating your tone when he yanked your hand from your underwear ever so gently. “I want to cum…”

“Want to?” he cooed, keeping his eyes close as he parted his lips open to suck your slick arousal from your fingers, earning another moan from you before he let you grab him on the shoulder, his own hand now snaking inside your underwear.

“Fuck, just-just put it in, please…” You begged, circling your arms around his neck as you lifted your leg, resting it on his hip.

You hear him hum, the deep rumble of it making your head go numb.

He wasted no time, pleased with your whines when he slid his finger inside your soaked pussy, fingering you slowly until you found yourself in a verge of breaking out of a sob, your knuckles turning white on his shoulder as he fucked you faster and harder at your request, fully attentive with the way you were squeezing him, sucking him further into your throbbing cunt, making him go crazy for how increasingly wet you’ve become.

“J-jeno!”

You half-screamed, back arching as he hovered on top of you, his head disappearing on the crook of your neck to kiss you right there before you feel his teeth bite the strap of your slip, yanking it down your shoulders.

He was going way faster now, fingers curving up to rammed on your sweet spot as you struggled under him, thighs closing tightly around his flexed arm just when you’re about to reach your peak.

“Don’t you want to come?” He smiled sleepily, sucking your left nipple with so much want it only drove you closer to your orgasm. “If you’re a good girl, you will, won’t you?”

It was scary how it feel too damn real — you could even hear him up close and personal and it was too overwhelming, but you couldn’t open your eyes, not wanting this dream to ever end, not when he’s about to make you cum so hard like this.

So you pushed through it, the lewd squelching of your wetness from him fucking into you the only thing you could hear, his equally pleased moans gracing your ears when you tell him you’re almost there.

“Fuck, fuck…fuck! I’m,” You cried, shaking violently as you finally snapped, hands flying on his in an attempt to stop him from fingering you in a brutal pace but he didn’t allow you.

Instead, he forced you to ride through it all as you cursed, head thrown back until you began sob from overdrive, thrashing and squirming under him only to make him pin your arms above your head, your slip pulled all the way to your neck, letting him feel your bare skin, your underwear being torn by him, tossing it on the marbled floors.

“I’m fucking you.” He growled, eyes parting slightly, unable to see you fully but the feeling of having you all naked and weak under him made him a little crazy. He wasn’t even sure if this was just a dream anymore, but he had his own personal desires needed to be taken care of. “You’ll let me, right?”

“Please…” You begged as he lifted your dress all the way to your face, turning it into a blindfold causing you to spread your legs wider for him, too aroused with the way he was trying to limit your senses. “Fuck… just do whatever you want, please…use..use me…”

“Can you even take me?” He smirked, tracing small kisses from your jaw all the way to your sternum as your breath hitched. “You’re this desperate, huh?”

You hear him unbuckle his belt as you begged, wanting him to give it to you already, afraid that this dream might come into an end.

“Please, Jeno…”

“Sounds better when you say it like that…”

He sighed, giving himself a few generous strokes before you felt the tip of his hard cock rub your pussy, giving you a few jabs before he slowly slipped inside you just halfway, wanting you to get used to his size so he waits for a tap which came just a few moments later, and gives it to you, a matching lustful moan being knocked out from yours and his.

“So b-big…”

You grabbed his biceps as he held his breath, trying his best not to fuck you like a wild animal for how amazingly tight and warm you felt around him, squeezing around him repeatedly, almost drawing him to the edge.

“Your pussy can take it…” He whispered, fucking into you slowly. “If I fuck you like this, you’ll take it…and if I go faster?”

“Ah!” You cried as he snapped his hips into you, the wetness of your pussy coating his entire cock, drawing him deeper into your cunt. “Don’t stop… fuck, f-fuck feels so good, so so good.”

“I know, baby…” He hissed vehemently, face buried into the crook of your neck as you let him fuck you faster, the slightly deep baritone of your tone intensifying the fact that he wants to ruin you, even if this wasn’t reality because god knows what he will do it had been, but for some reason, he didn’t felt any type of shame if this wasn’t a dream— just the carnal desire he felt for you, the girl who seemed to hate him for no valid reason.

You clutched the sheets as he pistons in and out of you, ultimately driving the both of you to each other’s peak.

He doesn’t let you touch him, his hand fixed to your wrists on top of your head as your jaw went slack, breath hitching as your legs trembled, alerting him that you were there.

“Fuck, spread your legs wider.” He demanded through gritted teeth, strong thighs stuttering against yours as you obediently did what he asked. “That’s it, pretty girl.”

It didn’t take long when the two of you finally came, you being the first to snap as he followed-through just a few seconds later, pulling out of you so he can cum on his bed sheet instead.

You immediately fell asleep right after, smiling through it all just like he did, the looming taste of regret awaiting to ruin everything in the morning.

Or would it?

You awoke to an unfamiliar bed, already panicking upon finding out you’ve been sleeping in his room the entire time so you quickly pad down the silent hall, disappearing inside your own room with a huff.

You ignore the throbbing headache in your head as sat on your bed, a little shaken and not knowing to go about explaining what just happened if he was aware of it, but you think he’s not even home or if he was, did he end up sleeping elsewhere?

You grabbed your crewneck and fixed yourself in front of the mirror, about to head downstairs and find him when you feel something odd, so you lift the hem of your dress, discovering that you didn’t even have an underwear on.

The memory of him taking it off you haunted your train of thought — last night felt too raw, too real and you think it maybe because you’re starting to be delusional, using the advantage of staying in his house and touch his stuff that weren’t yours.

You assume this might have catered to it all and you weren’t even sure if that’s something to be happy or angry about.

You figured it wasn’t — in fact, it was too wrong and you wanted out so you immediately text Tony for an update before heading downstairs to find Jeno.

Jeno, you learn, was not alone.

It was a Saturday after all, and he happens to be on the phone by the living room, his full attention watching the glowing fireplace in front of him, energy drink on-hand as your friend darted from the kitchen, immediately seeing you.

“Oh, she’s up!” She announced, running to hug you with a beam. “Jina and I are going to get our nails done and she’s picking me up, you wanna come?”

“Oh, um… that’s okay.” You falter as Jeno turned to look at you, gaze unreadable. “I’m leaving soon anyway, like going back to my place.”

“Oh! Well maybe next time? Jeno is leaving soon too but won’t be dropping me off. Jeno, help her okay?”

You avoid the way he’s looking at you now, quite embarrassed with the fact that you literally just slept in his bed and even dreamed of him fucking you. You just hoped he had no idea, and if he did know, you knew you couldn’t bear to show face any longer.

“I’ll plan us another date. Just you and I. I promise!”

You let your friend drag you to the entrance and albeit dazed from the unholy thoughts you were suddenly having about Jeno, you managed to brush it off and watch your friend leave, waving her a small good-bye, the guilt surging through you once again after seeing her.

You were just about to lock the door when you feel him hover behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the sound of his deep voice invading your cloud of thoughts.

“I’m gone for one night and you’re suddenly touching stuff that aren’t yours?”

So he did know. But does he know?

“I’m sorry…” You exhale, sighing regretfully but refused to look at him in the eye. “Got a little drunk then looked for the bathroom—“

“See… that wasn’t the only thing I’m upset about though.”

You gulped as you feel him walk closer so you slowly back away, the shocked gasp leaving your lips as you feel the pressure of the door behind you, him towering over you now.

“What?”

“Do you know what I’m talking about?” He questioned, a little on edge. “Don’t act dumb now.”

“I said I was drunk and I’m sorry.” You apologized sincerely, the overwhelming silence skyrocketing your anxiety. “If there was any damage—”

“No, that’s not…” You hear him chuckle as he drove his hand to the door, cornering you like a predator, but you remain still, stopping yourself from looking up or it was going to over. “Do I have to explain?”

“I don’t…”

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

Your eyes rounded in shock, immediately tilting your chin up so you can look at him in the eye this time, suddenly angry at his accusation.

“What made you say that?” You snapped, watching him shake his head in amusement but you weren’t buying it. “Jeno.”

“You’re something else.” He whispered softly, eyes searching something in yours before you feel him inch closer to your ear, his lips brushing across the shell of your ear. “You’re insane. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Jeno, what the fuck?”

You pushed him off you but he could only laugh, head tilting to the side, a smirk now evident on his face.

He was too handsome, it almost drove you nuts if it wasn’t for the way he just insulted you.

“Guess I’d be the first but don’t worry, I’m not that angry, you know?”

You clenched your jaw, watching him advance to you again with an intent to pin you against the door.

“You’re full of shit. I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about when all I’ve done is —”

“We fucked.” He sighed, reeling closer when you clamped your mouth shut, looking away from him. “Why, you thought you were dreaming?”

“You’re joking.”

“See, I’d like to think I was. The whole time I thought the same until I find you in my bed in the morning.”

You faltered, unable to think straight when you feel him trace the outline of your jaw, grabbing you by the chin gently to make you shift your attention back to him.

“Jeno.”

“You said my name too. Just like this.” His darkened gaze pierced yours, pupils blown. “You like me that much?”

“We can’t do this.” You grab his wrist, pushing him away with a huff. “It was a mistake!”

“I’d like to think the same but for some reason…” He took another step, completely caging you in just like you were always meant to be for him. “You’re fucking everything up.”

“How is that my fault —”

“You should’ve pursued me first, that’s all.”

Your eyes widen as he cradled your face, drawing you completely speechless.

Turns out, he was crazier, even more sinister with the way he’s touching you so inappropriately right now you feel like pushing him off and running out to escape but you simply couldn’t. You knew you wanted him too even if you shouldn’t.

Not when the damage has already been done, and you’ve opened a pandora box, unleashing his hidden desires on board with yours, the sinful thoughts you’ve been trying so hard to seal away for no one to figure out.

“You don’t give a fuck about her?” You swallowed a lump in your throat, a pained expression on your face as he kept up with his ministrations, his hand now holding yours. “Why are you touching me…”

“I like you.” He confesses with a shrug like it was something so simple to do, his piercing gaze meeting yours again. “You think I’m into your friend?”

“You’re sick.”

You say through gritted teeth, raw anger still there but the more you allowed him to stare you down like this, the more it dissipated. The desperate hold you had around it vanishing to thin air.

“And you think you’re not?”

There was that same fiery edge to his tone now, his grip around your hand tightening. You try to break free from his grasp until you hear his phone ring. You were just about to use that as way to completely push him away, but he cut you off, demanding you to stay still.

“We’re not done.”

You watch him answer the call, fear on your eyes when you discovered it as your friend asking if he could pass the phone over to you just because you weren’t answering yours.

“Talk to her.” He demanded, his stern tone sending shivers all over your body when you placed his phone near your ear.

“Hey,” You greeted your friend, trying to sound as normal as you could before shying away from the way Jeno’s eyeing you right now. “Was in the shower. What’s up?”

You let your friend take-over, asking if you wanted anything from a specific shop near the nail salon she was in and had been trying so hard to get your mind out of the gutter for the past minute that seemed to flow by in forever. You found yourself stuck in the middle — part of you wanted to tell her about what you did just like that no matter what the consequences were but the other half simply haunted you, did you really want to stop? When the guilt should be burning you alive right now but for some reason, you hardly felt anything and you weren’t sure what to make of that.

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

“The one with stars is cute but you don’t have to— it’s okay,” You shook your head, completely missing the fact that Jeno had gotten even closer. You catch on to him before he lowers his head to the side of your face, about to murmur something.

“Stop.” With the phone away from your lips, you attempt to get away but he only holds you still, hand fixed to the curve of your waist. “Jeno—”

“Just tell me the details later!” Your friend squealed over the phone. “And tell Jeno to read my text!”

The call ended just before you could utter something but the phone from your hand was snatched away in a millisecond, suddenly finding yourself gasping when Jeno placed his knee in between your thighs, feeling you up with his clothed knee, his hand now groping your breast.

“Quit it, won’t you?” You bit your lip, hand fisting his top as he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. “You want to run away so bad but I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do so don’t lie to yourself.”

“Jeno, stop,” You begged, arousal already pulling in your underwear when he forced you to grind down on his thigh, holding all your weight up alone with just that alone. “Jeno…”

“I’ll let you go f that’s what you want.” He grunted as you began to grind on him, growing more aroused with the way you were whining, struggling on his thigh. He challenged you, even if he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist all of this.

Resist him.

You whimpered as he removed his thigh between your legs, letting you off but you don’t make a move.

“You want to go?” You could only gaze back at him, completely in trance as he grinned down at you, his sardonic expression reeling you in. “Then go.”

It didn’t take long until you finally snapped altogether, crashing yourself to him to latch your lips on his in sheer frustration, an audible groan coming from him as he nibbled your bottom lip, lifting you up, hands all over your body.

Sooner or later, you found yourselves in bed, having to have exhausted each other but there were no words shared after it all.

You weren’t even sure what to do next as you laid there beside him, watching him sleep on his back, head turned away from yours. It was then you felt your heart crumble into pieces, the immense jolt of pain suddenly waking you up from trance.

Do I really want to do this?

You left the next morning just like that, not wanting to pursue this wrong deed at all, and without a word other as you hailed a taxi. You deleted and blocked his phone number and made a plan to somehow try to avoid him and your friend for the next few months, but it wasn’t simple like that, and yet, you tried to stay away.

For the next six months, it was like that — with you and your friend slowly falling apart because you no longer shared classes for second semester and you made no amends to even see or spend time with her, having to have met other friends you shared classes with and then her, with the boys and their girls.

You were also thankful of Jeno not pursuing anything with you too. You barely saw him around due to the fact that he did sign up for more sport-related activities so naturally, he disappeared from your sight. He must have thought that it was clearly a mistake just like you did, and you fought to repent for your sins and you wished he did too.

You didn’t keep track about anything that had to do with them anymore and decided to focus on your studies like you’ve always had from the beginning to prepare yourself for graduation and university requirements. Your great efforts did pay off in the end, having to graduate with almost on top of all your classes and getting into one of your top three universities.

Life seemed great for you — quite elated for the next journey you’re bound to go on for the next two years now that senior year was over and so was the evening dinner you had to attend because it was mandatory despite wanting to opt out of it but you made sure to leave early as you had no plans to sit in the fancy banquet of a five-star hotel and “get entertained” when everyone either sat around to chill or lose themselves in the dimmed down dance floor.

By 11 pm, you bid your goodbyes to a panel of teachers, one of them being your favourite, just in the next room in the hall, then gunned down to the parking lot where you parked your car.

You dug your keys in your purse, humming to yourself when you spot someone’s slick black shoes right next to your car so you stop and blink, shifting your attention the wide plain of his familiar broad back, his white dress shirt being the only article of clothing he has on with some tailored black plants that probably cost five months worth of rent.

“Jeno.”

“Nice ride you got.” He drew the cigarette away from his lips, grey smoke hitting your face as you slowly took a step back, unable to form any coherent sentence upon realizing that he’s standing before you now. “New model too. Gift, maybe?”

You do know you’ve been trying to avoid him.

As much as you tried however, he was there, always in a crowd and you never missed a handsome face like his. He burned in the back of your head so easily, but it was too difficult to get him out no matter how many distractions you could come with, and even if most of it worked in your favour he still lived inside your head like a parasite.

A parasite you may never end up getting rid of.

“I’m going home.” Was all you said, trying to stay stoic and unaffected as he advanced to you, even more irresistable now that he’s worked out more and grew his hair a little longer, a strand from his gelled back fringe curving on his forehead and it did nothing but clench your jaw.

He was just too handsome, you were close to believing no one would be able to resist him at all, not even the new arm candy he brought as a date to dinner since your he has apparently broken up with your friend a month before graduation due to a sudden drastic change in her family’s living situation.

You soon find out she was never coming back, and apparently “long distance relationships” wasn’t Jeno’s thing.

“This early?”

There was a coy smirk on his face, cigarette resting between his lips. You stood there, liking the smell, reminding you of your father back home so naturally, you stayed where you are, feet starting to hurt from the five inch heels you regretfully wore to dinner.

“Yeah, I have work the next morning.”

He’s one step away from you now, his full attention scanning your red dress from head to toe, liking the tight fit around your soft curves. You try to stand your ground anyway, albeit about to burst into shivers from the way he narrowed his eyes to you now, blowing another puff of grey you ended up inhaling into your system as well for how damn close he’s gotten, invading your comfort zone.

“That’s a shame.” He circled around you like some sort of a predator, but without touching you until you feel him stop just inches away, his hard chest brushing against your back. “Well go on, your car is right there.”

Your breath hitched as you began to walk to your car, unlocking the back door to throw your purse into with a slam. You don’t say anything as you placed your hand on the handle, chewing on your lips as he quirked an eyebrow, wanting to know what seemed to make you look a little stressed and all tensed up.

“Your date.” You slowly met his amused gaze. “How long?”

“Didn’t sleep with her if that’s what you were wondering.” You didn’t even want to lie — the wave of relief crashed through you, engulfing you in so you let go of the handle and headed to him, letting your burning desire drag you all the way to his arms as he pulled you into a suffocating embrace. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Jeno flung his cigarette off his lips to kiss you hungrily causing you to moan in his mouth, tasting the peppermint candy he’s had and the slight bitterness from the cigarette but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care until he threw you in your backseat, ripping your underwear off you so easily and gave it to you right there and then, until you were in a verge of tears, unable to think straight as you moaned his name all over again like some sort of a mantra, dragging the both of you into eternal hell.

And to hell with him it is.

#jeno x reader #nct jeno smut #jeno smut #jeno x you #nct dream smut #nct smut #kpop smut #lee jeno smut #one shot smut #killshotbabe

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oonajaeadira · 6 months

Text

A Welcome Home At Resolution Ranch

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle / Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

Pairing: Jack Daniels x reader

Reader: Adult female. Former agent, now the manager at a guest ranch. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T. Fluff.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, but on the edge of healing

Summary: When the news comes through that Jack met his end in Cambodia, you know better.

A/N: Well howdy, friends, and welcome to a good, soft, fix-it fic. What inspired this? @writeforfandoms did when she sent in an ask for a game....

"I wish you would write a fic where Jack is fine and nothing hurts and there are stars in the sky and there is plenty of banter and softness. Maybe horses."

Since her birfday is this week and writing Jack for each other is a love language, this is especially for her. <3

“You sure I’m ready to go on my own?”

Charity is a good girl. A little accident-prone at times, sure, but it’s mainly out of a lack of confidence. She’s got a real knack with the horses though, and you’ve learned to let her be on hand whenever the ranch has new guests check in; that million-watt smile of hers is worth a welcome mat covered in gold. She is Jack’s kin in every way, except he sucked up all the ego in the family and left little over for his niece.

Handing her the roster clipboard, you grant her an approving grin. “You grew up on these trails. You know them better than I ever will. You’re every ounce the guide any of us are. Now you’ve got eight guests riding with you this evening, two of them are about your age, and pretty handsome young gentlemen. You’re about to win the hearts of some suitors with that sweetness of yours…and if not, then for sure their grandparents. Have fun. Oh,” you remember, pointing to a name on the roster, “this lady here is a bit of a tick, but she has it bad for Morgans. Put her on Sasha and she’ll be shining so bright there’s nothing gonna dim her stars.”

“But Sasha’s your horse.”

“She won’t mind. Now get. And remember–”

Charity rolls her eyes. “Don’t let anyone tell me that they know horses better than I do, I know.”

“Good girl. Now you do a good job on your first solo run and I’ll have a big surprise waiting for you when you come back, hear?”

“I’m not a kid. I don’t need a reward.”

Turning the girl around by the shoulders and sending her off in the direction of the stables, you refrain from swatting her playfully, showing her the respect of a coworker. “And I’m not baking you cookies either. I’m not going with you tonight because I have something I gotta do. You’ll get the benefit of that thing whether you do a good job or not. I was trying to be encouraging.”

Her black braid swings down her back as she walks off to her task–both excited and scared, clutching the clipboard with both hands.

“Oh, and Charry?” She stops to turn and listen. “Don’t put anyone on Whiplash. Leave her in the stable tonight.”

Once she’s given you a nod and marched out of sight, you wander back into the main lodge and relieve everyone for a few hours. You’re ready to take the front desk on your own. No worries, you explain, there’s only one guest booked to come in in the next hour and everyone else is out on the twilight ride. You’ll take it from here.

Once the lobby is quiet, you prop yourself out on the porch in a rocking chair with your boots up on the railing, tip your hat down low, and keep your eyes on the horizon--gradually more pink and gold by the minute--where any cars coming over the mile-long driveway can’t pass your notice.

It’s been six years now since you were secretly decommissioned from Statesman and your agent status revoked. Emotional trauma is a hell of a thing, and some agents take a beating. When head of the organization deems an agent unfit for duty with needs of long-term recovery and care, it’s their call to order it and–with the help of one other top officer–secretly install the probationed agent in a situation where they are anonymous and removed from any society that they could harm or could harm them. The organizational file would relate how the agent was killed in action, with the true story being kept by the two in charge. A total erasure of personage, total disappearance.

If and when the agent passed an evaluation and elected to return, they became extremely valuable as a secret operative, since everyone would assume they were deceased.

If they decided not to return, the agency made sure they were provided for. For life.

Sometimes they came back; thrill of the hunt, what they know best and all that. But overall, the return rate was low. Something about a slow down calls after a life of deception.

In your case, Jack was chosen as Champ’s second and–having always been one of the only agents that damn cowboy liked working with–suggested you head up his family ranch for your rehab period. Tasked you with making it a nice working vacation ranch for families. Came out and visited you often enough to make sure you were getting on.

And, of course, to make sure you were getting off too.

There was a lot of hay on property, and Jack was a damn nice rolling partner. Said that he liked that he never had to pretend with you. Not now, not ever.

And you always felt exactly the same.

But the timing was never perfect. And the world had always needed one or the other of you to save it.

Distractions.

After the requisite five year probation, Champ and Jack made the ceremonial trip out and asked if you’d like to be re-evaluated and “reborn”. As much as you’d been itching during the first couple of years to get back in the game, the quiet life had softened your body and won your heart. You’d gained the trust of the employees. Knew all the horses and their idiosyncracies by heart. It had become your home. Walking away to spend days without sleep, lying, taking lives without stopping to think twice….just didn’t appeal anymore.

With Champ’s understanding, you had respectfully retired, and with Jack’s blessing, you’d planted yourself permanently. The ranch was your calling. Your heart. Even with some of Jack’s relatives working and living here it could get lonely at times, but then you’d catch yourself watching the fireflies in the sunset or riding Sasha through a particularly pretty meadow and everything seemed right with the world.

And hells. If the lack of companionship was the only thing you had to complain about, well the universe must have heard. It’s rung the hospitality bell for you.

Taking the letter out of your pocket, you glance over it one more time. An announcement of an agent down. Cambodia. Drug conspiracy. Agents Galahad, Galahad, and Merlin of Kingmen, London. Agent Whiskey showing mental trauma and poor judgment. A violent engagement. A meat grinder. Signed by Head Agent Champagne.

So that’s the story they assigned him, huh. A meat grinder? Really? So stupid. But then, you got to assist in penning your own death, so it makes all the sense in the world that Jack got to have a say in his. Of course he was going to go out in the corniest way possible, of course he was.

Tsk. A meat grinder. Jesus.

Before long, the stars are starting to peek out and there’s a plume of dust on the horizon. Then a black car at the core of it, making its way along the drive. By the time it pulls up in front of the porch, you’ve hidden the letter back in your pocket, stood and made your way to the bottom of the steps.

Two doors open. From the front a driver emerges, short and sturdy, young and hale, heading for the trunk to retrieve luggage. But when the back door opens, there’s the duo of a boot and a Stetson which emerge together then unfold into a tall, cool drink of Jack Daniels.

It’s a showdown at twilight, but you both keep your hearts in your holster for the time being and instead reach for your sass. “Driver? This here’s a working ranch, so you can just leave the luggage. Guests here are required to haul their own.”

They do as they’re told with a nod, dropping two suitcases and a duffel in the dust. The whole time Jack stands, unmoving, hands on hips, watching with a bemused incredulity as the driver then simply gets back behind the wheel and literally drives off into the sunset, leaving Jack's bags like carrion.

“Well shit. Is that any way to welcome a man home?”

“Maybe I just wanted you all to myself, cowboy. You ever think of that?”

There’s a delicious moment underscored by cricket strings that allows for both of your grins to stretch to full capacity.

But still, he’s a man whose wind has abandoned his sails and you both know why he’s here. It doesn’t mean he’s not still Jack Daniels though. And while he might not come at you with an oppressive swagger, he still comes to you, the cockiness giving way to a genuine fondness.

“Well. Hello, gorgeous.”

“Let me guess,” you tease, opening your arms to guide him to his landing, “You have a pack of cold ones and your roomie’s out so I can scream your name as loud as I want.”

His embrace is more than just happiness to see you. It’s heavy with relief, with longing. He needs it from you as much as you from him, and he hums low into your neck as he lifts you so that your toes just leave the ground before plopping you back down. This is the point where the usual hug might end, but he stays. He stays just a few more breaths and you can tell he’s taking a cure in the moment.

“Come on, cowboy,” you hum into his shoulder. “Let me help you with these bags. I prepared the best room in the house for you.”

Silently, you both heft a suitcase and he takes the extra duffel, and you make it up the stairs of the main house to the biggest bedroom and flip on the light.

“Isn’t this your bedroom, Brandy?”

Throwing a suitcase on the quilted bed you shake a finger at him. “Uh uh uh, that’s not my name anymore, Whiskey.”

He follows suit, unburdening himself. “And that’s not mine. Belongs to Ginger now.”

You can’t--and won't--hide your delight. “Well hot shit. Good for her. She’s always wanted to go out into the field.” But it’s also bittersweet. It's been six years. “How is my girl?”

“Oh, she’s doing real fine. Took over as Champ’s right hand when I went out and Tequila hopped the pond to work for those Brits.”

“Damn. Well, I’m proud of her. I wish I could tell her. If I could have just had one more agent to keep in touch with….wait.” Something in Jack’s little smile gives you pause. “Waaaaait a minute. Did she–???”

He finishes the thought for you. “With the transfer of title, she also became Champ’s number two. So she’s got access your retirement file. I’m sure she’ll be booking a vacation here soon enough.”

Turning to the window and clamping a hand over your mouth, you hold your own reflection and do your best to keep the tears for later. It’s been six years and your old friend is in Kentucky right now, finding out any day now that you’re not dead after all, that you’re only a plane ride away. A long dreamed-for reunion is coming. Oh god.

But Jack’s here now, and he’s going to need your support. And of course he’ll demand your attention–”You never answered my question. Where are you sleeping if I’m in here?”

Turning to him, you wink. “Who said I was moving out of this room?” His blush signals that you’ve just out-Jacked Jack Daniels. Stepping in closer, you take his hand. “Hey. I just wanted to give you a view of the stables. If you want me here, I’ll share the room with you. If not, the guest room is free and I’m comfortable sleeping there too. This is your home now, cowboy. I want you to see the sun in the morning. Give you a reason to get up every day.”

“Sunshine’s wherever you are, partner. It’d actually be real nice to have a reason to stay in bed.”

His words spread through you like a good bourbon. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” It’s a warm moment, new for both of you. Instead of the thrill of the promise of sharing a bed and the obvious adventure that awaits, you have something now that you both never had before–time. Time to hold. Time to breathe. Time to heal and take it soft and slow. “Come on, cowboy. I wanna show you something.”

Picking up his Stetson from the bed, you place it lovingly on his head, your fingertips lingering as they trail down his sideburns. He wears the hat well, and the facial hair. And the deep adoration. Before he gets lost in the moment, you lead him out of the main house and down toward the stables.

“So. A meat grinder.”

He grins as he watches his feet, big hands swinging at his side. “Can’t blame a man for people wanting to remember his demise. That one’ll be talked about.”

“Little over the top, isn’t it?”

“That’s the way I went in, apparently.”

“Stupidest death I’ve ever heard of.”

“But you’ll remember it, won’t you.”

Rolling your eyes, you lead him to one of the front stalls of the stable. “Yeah, but I’d never believe it. Jack Daniels? Taken down by an unarmed, unstable agent and his apprentice? This hulk of a man tossed around and yanked into a grinder as if there’s one big enough to take you?”

“You’re real hung up on the meat grinder part, aren’t you. You do know the target was actually processing people and making them into burgers, right? I don’t see why it’s so unbelievable–” But he stops like stone when you reach your target stall. “Is that…Well slap my chaps. That’s the prettiest mustang I’ve ever seen.”

“You like her?” Clicking your tongue, the lithe and beautiful bay immediately comes to you, tossing her mane, ready for the apple you’ve got on offer. And when you hide it behind your back, she knows to put her nose to yours, to nuzzle you gently. “This is Whiplash. Fast as a shooting star and twice as bright. Picked her out myself. Helped Charity to train her up, which is why she’s also sweet. That girl has the patience of a saint. Must get it from the other side of the family. But this mare was a passion project for both of us. Thought you might like to claim her,” you say, handing the apple over to him and, with it, Whiplash’s attentions. “Anytime you need to clear your head, she’ll run you to the moon and back.”

Jack holds out the apple reverently with one hand, running the other along the mare’s neck. “Always wanted a mustang. Thought I’d have to settle for the automotive variety. They’re not the kind of horse you keep at a pedestrian ranch for just anyone to ride.”

“I know. It was meant to be a surprise for your next visit. But now that you’re here to stay, she’s even more yours than she was before.”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to hold those tears for later, his beautiful brown eyes gathering up all the rising moonlight. Swallowing hard, he gives you a nod, a thanks that he can’t put into words just yet. Instead, he deflects. “Where is my favorite niece?”

“Your only niece is out leading a twilight ride. It’s her first lead. I told her I’d have a reward waiting for her when she got back as long as all the guests are alive and kicking. She doesn’t know you’re coming yet.”

He nods. Goes back to petting Whiplash. The full day and the journey finally come to settle on him and all his thoughts seem to rise to the surface and float in his tired expression.

You reach out. Hook a finger in his belt loop and give it a coy tug. “Hey. Can I ask you...what happened, Jack?”

He has to take a breath. Two. Then he gives Whiplash a final pat and takes your hand, weaving it through the crook of his arm, and you wander out into the darkening pasture together.

The mission was nearly doomed from the start. With Tequila down and Harry still recovering and Eggsy still green, it was just a mess. It didn’t help that his heart wasn’t in it, that he kept thinking about his loss so many years ago, that maybe it was better if all the addicts were just taken down in one fell swoop so they could stop hurting themselves and everyone else. Running the New York branch and distribution on top of fucking saving the world every five minutes–the burnout was getting to him and just made him fixate more.

Harry saw through him but misinterpreted his reluctance. Harry shot him to take him out of commission, knowing full well that Ginger could fix him. Jack went back into action too soon, too hot. Went straight to Cambodia. Joined in the fray. Ended up taking out his rage on Poppy and brutally jamming a needle in her neck, overdosing and killing her rather than neutralizing her and taking her in as he should have. Harry and Eggsy were kind. Stood up for him with Champ. Helped to corroborate a story so he could step down. Jack let the record show that they were the heroes so they could go back to the Kingsmen in triumph and he could heal in peace.

This is what surprises you the most.

That Jack let himself go down as the bad guy.

“You could have just said you were taken down by one of Poppy’s men and walked away a martyr.”

He simply watches the first fireflies come out in answer to the first stars, squeezes your hand a little tighter, shakes his head. “If I’d had my head in the game, a good agent wouldn’t have died. Merlin. His name was Agent Merlin. Damn fine man. And if Harry and Eggsy hadn’t been the excellent agents they are, my lapse of judgment could have killed a lot more folks. This is my way to atone.”

“And there’s no way in hell you’d let anyone think you got taken down by some nameless thug.”

“Shit. Got me there.”

All you can do is show agreement with a knowing nod. “You know, when I first came out here, I couldn’t wait to leave. But you knew, didn’t you. You knew that I needed this.”

“I did.”

“Cocky bastard,” you mumble in loving admonishment. “Did you understand that you were nearing the end too? That you were sending me out here to give me time to be ready to bring you home?”

“I wasn’t aware of it at the time, probably a little too confident to ever think I should stop.” He turns to you, a sweet little apology in the corner of his smile. “But maybe a little part of me knew.”

“Yeah, that little part of you has gotten me into trouble before.”

He huffs a little laugh, tilts your chin up with a knuckle. Still holding your hand and sliding it inside his jacket against his chest he whispers, “Ain’t the part I was talking about, sweetheart.”

When he kisses you, it’s a different Jack than the one you used to settle for on occasion. This Jack is ready to put down his revolvers and his whip, ready to concentrate on himself, on you, on a life far from trouble. His kiss holds in it the promise of summer sunsets and long trail rides, of barbecues and lemonade and lazy mornings sleeping in. And there will be stars that are brighter...and nights under them for just the two of you. It’s a kiss that leaves no doubt that there will be many more to follow, each one with its own brand of sweetness and a happy ending well-earned.

No more distractions.

Time enough.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

#a birfday fic with love #kingsman golden circle fanfic #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #fix-it fic

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royboyfanpage · 2 months

Text

Snowbirds Don’t Fly- Drugs TW (Obviously)

Recently, I created this post about Snowbirds Don’t Fly being told from Roy’s perspective in the Green Arrow 80th anniversary special, and I thought I’d make a separate post with some specific panels from the original Snowbirds. I’m well aware that a lot of people haven’t read the full comic and may only know this-

-infamous slap panel, I myself only read the original 1971 comic recently. So, here’s some other panels from the comic.

For starters, when Ollie finds Roy amongst drug users, his immediate reaction is “oh, Speedy must be undercover!” This could be interpreted one of two ways- trust, or denial. Either one makes his reaction to finding out Roy’s addiction understandable*, since if it’s a reaction based on trust then Roy’s essentially betrayed that trust or, more likely, if it’s a reaction based on denial then finding Roy shooting up is an immediate shattering of the illusion. While this comic obviously focuses on drug use, it’s also common for tons of different issues, be it mental health, sexuality, whatever. Parents like to live in denial about their kids’ issues and, particularly in the 1970s when the idea of ‘gentle parenting’ was a rarity at best, when that illusion is broken it can cause parents to lash out when faced with evidence of what they’re denying. Even if you don’t personally see Ollie and Roy’s relationship as father/son, that is very clearly the dynamic portrayed in this comic.

*note the wording; understandable, not justifiable. Are Ollie’s actions justified? No. Are they understandable based on the circumstances and time period? Yes.

I’m putting these two panels together because I think they fit well. A common misinterpretation I see for the circumstances leading up to Roy’s heroin addiction is that Ollie was neglecting him. However, it’s stated in the comic that Ollie’s not seen him in one month, and while Roy’s age isn’t specifically stated, he’s an adult at this point (I don’t have any sources for it, but I believe he was living on his own at this point). A parent not seeing their adult child for one month isn’t neglect. In Ollie’s eyes, he hasn’t done anything wrong. The aspect of neglect comes from Roy. I’ve talked about Roy’s fear of abandonment in my pinned post, so check that out for more. Roy has a need to be surrounded by the people he cares about- he’s very rarely a solo hero, and is the most vocal objector whenever the Titans disband. So what Ollie would have seen as giving Roy space and letting his now-adult son have his independence, Roy saw it as a sign that he was no longer wanted. Is this either of their faults? No. And not to keep bringing up the 70s again, but it was the 70s. Would a young-adult superhero tell his father/mentor that he was scared of being alone? Absolutely not, that would have been seen as emasculating, so he bottled it up meaning Ollie had absolutely no clue as to what Roy was feeling whenever he’d leave.

And then this is the page following the slap panel, which essentially sums up my point in my last snowbirds post. Ollie’s immediate reaction after “kicking Roy out” (another thing I commonly see Ollie haters using- again, Roy lived on his own at this point) is blaming himself, the fear of having failed Roy, and then the stifling of that blame, justifying it to himself mentally. Honestly I think this panel is more significant in art than dialogue in a lot of ways- the way Ollie turns his head away when Roy’s talking to him, he knows he’s in the wrong, but admitting he’s wrong would go against the “father knows best” ideology of that time. And then in the third panel, the conflicting emotions is visible in his eyes. He doesn’t know what to think, the illusion is broken, and he can’t ignore Roy’s issues any longer.

And then there’s Hal, the narrative foil to Ollie in this comic. Unlike Ollie, Hal doesn’t have that illusion, at least not as strongly as Ollie does, since he’s always played the role of a supportive uncle figure, but never a father. He’s able to recognise that Roy was speaking from experience, or at least had a hunch, and actively sought out Roy afterwards. However, he also doesn’t have a saviour complex. He knows that he personally doesn’t have the skillset necessary to help Roy, so he brings him to someone who does, recognising that its more important that Roy gets the help he needs rather than Hal stepping in and doing it himself in typical “hero” fashion.

This panel doesn’t tie into my overarching argument, but I just wanted to take a moment to criticise Roy’s recovery story in the New 52. The idea that Roy was suicidal before Killer Croc (???) dragged him to rehab/AA, and would not have gotten better without being forced, is a major disservice to Roy’s character (then again, what in RHaTO isn’t?) Roy made the decision to get clean himself, and you can feel his resolve even despite him clearly not being in his right state of mind. Roy Harper got clean because he accepted help, and because he himself made that choice. Back to your regularly scheduled programming.

And then, of course, there’s the most significant person in Roy’s recovery; Dinah. Keep in mind Dinah and Roy barely even knew each other at this point, I’m pretty sure in Arsenal #1 it’s shown she didn’t even know his name was Roy until Snowbirds (though there may be other sources that contradict this). Dinah was 100% Roy’s biggest supporter in his recovery- she took him in when he was at his lowest, and as a result they developed such a strong bond and relationship. While I disagree with the concept of Dinah as the ‘Arrowmum’, mostly because A) she didn’t even know Roy until he was already in adulthood and B) it’s a gross oversimplification and diminishment of her character, there are undeniable aspects of their relationship which are mother/son-coded, and I believe she has referred to Roy as “my boy” in later comics, though again I don’t have sources to back this up. Either way, Dinah and Roy’s relationship started with Roy’s lowest and has continued as mutual care and respect and I love them a lot.

And finally, the ending page. Ollie *listens* to Roy at the end of Snowbirds. Now that the illusion’s already lifted, that there aren’t lies and rose tinted glasses separating them, Ollie’s able to actually listen to what Roy’s saying without immediately shrugging it off because it conflicts with his own perception. And he feels *proud* of Roy, proud of his recovery, and proud of his beliefs. If Ollie were truly the neglectful, abusive guy some fans paint him out to be, he wouldn’t be proud. Hell, he wouldn’t even be there. Keep in mind this final scene takes place at the funeral of one of Roy’s addict friends who overdosed earlier in the issue, a funeral Ollie attended.

Snowbirds Don’t Fly was written to show the audience addiction through someone they’re familiar with- Green Arrow’s sidekick, Speedy, someone we know is a hero and one of the good guys. It’s made to contradict the belief that addiction is a moral failing, that anyone could develop an addiction under certain circumstances. And what it shows the readers, it also shows Ollie. Ollie sees someone he cares about going through addiction, and it causes him to reevaluate his own biases and beliefs.

In conclusion, while the slap was definitely not justified, it was also not the part of the comic readers should focus on. The story of Snowbirds Don’t Fly, at least for Ollie, is one of a hero being forced to face one of his own beliefs, to struggle to reconcile said beliefs with new information, and eventually to change his beliefs as a result of new experiences. It’s called character growth, and that’s what Snowbird’s about. So stop calling Oliver Queen an abuser.

#tw drugs #roy harper #arsenal #red arrow #speedy #dc comics #green arrow #oliver queen #snowbirds don't fly #dinah lance #black canary #hal jordan #green lantern

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oftenwantedafton · 1 month

Text

A Consolation Prize - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 1

Rating - Explicit

Word Count - 5k

Summary - William Afton’s never really noticed you before tonight. Now that he has, he can’t stop looking.

Content/Warnings - dubious consent, creep game verse William Afton smut, oral sex, masturbation, touching, grinding, voyeurism

Also available on AO3

William Afton really craves a cigarette.

He’s already used up the last pack he’d squirreled away for emergencies and he hasn’t yet had a chance to get another one. His wife hates it when he smokes, but he doesn’t particularly care about that anymore. It’s not like she’ll get close enough to him to even notice any lingering scent, let alone taste. Several times a week turning to once a week shifting to monthly and now…well, he’s lost count, to be honest. Just like she seems to have lost interest. It’s always The kids will hear or I’m too tired. As if he isn’t tired, too; as if running a restaurant isn’t as much effort as raising children, one nearly grown and the middle not that far behind. It’s become a solo routine now. Just a quick release. Barely enjoyable.

So he’s made up his mind he’s just going to step out for a bit from his pizzeria and pick up a fresh pack. Maybe two. Fuck it, an entire carton. And that’s when he bumps into you by the rear exit that leads to the employee parking lot.

Shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Tears spilling down your cheeks. Well, fuck.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Afton, I know I’m supposed to be inside working, I just…”

“What happened?”

“My boyfriend just dumped me.”

He sighs. Teenage drama. Hardly his concern. But you’re so clearly distraught and it makes him feel something. Instinct taking over. He’s always been good with young people. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He said I was taking up too much of his time. He wanted to see more of his friends.”

“Without knowing the young man, I’m going to make a blanket statement here and say that boys his age are immature. He’ll regret his decision in time.”

“You think so?”

A hopeful note in your query. You still want to be with him, then. “Perhaps. And if he doesn’t, well, he’s an even bigger fool. Not worth your time. Certainly not worth all these tears.”

You sniffle, scrubbing at your cheeks. “I guess.”

The handkerchief in his shirt pocket doesn’t see much practical use; it’s become more of a fashion accent than anything. The last time he can recall using it was when his youngest had taken a tumble in the parking lot and had skinned his knee. Now it seems tonight it’s going to be put back into service. Dark purple nestled against the lighter violet shade of his dress shirt slipped free. He hands it to you and you hesitate.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Easy enough to wash.”

You seem a little embarrassed. Some of the pink coloring in your cheeks not from sorrow. A hasty swipe across your face, your runny nose quickly wiped.

The owner glances at his watch. It’s only an hour until close. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? Go home, take a shower, get a good night’s sleep. I won’t deduct it from your wages,” he adds.

“He was my ride home.”

“Well, I’m heading to the store. I can drop you off on the way.”

“You…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” He fishes for his car keys, dragging them from his pants pocket.

“I have to go get my stuff.”

“Sure. I’ll wait.” A tentative smile from you. Pretty. You were pretty, even with your slightly puffy eyes and dripping nose. Afton leans back against the brick and mortar. The door clicks shut. Thumbs hooked into suspenders. Head tipping back to admire the evening sky. Nice evening. Early spring. The perfect temperature.

The door beside him reopens. You’ve got a backpack on your shoulder. He guides you to his car. Large sedan. Roomy. Necessary when you have a family. You settle into the passenger seat. “You can put your bag in the back if you want.” Waits for you to get settled, seatbelt secured. Starts the engine. A deep rumble of sound.

Your eyes linger on his bare forearms. He’d rolled up his sleeves earlier, finally surrendering to the warmth indoors. Pink scars beneath the dark hairs. He doesn’t even notice them anymore. But of course you do. Only natural to be curious. An accident. That’s what the rumor mill generated. And it was true enough, so he’d left it at that.

William pulls up to the gas station. Too many lights. So overwhelmingly illuminated. Lit up like fucking Christmas, a beacon in the otherwise dark stretch of road. “I’ll be right back. Want anything?” You shake your head. You’re still clutching the bit of fabric he’s lent you. But the tears have ceased. Your features are dry now. He leaves the keys in the ignition, depressing the lighter before he exits. They’re out of the cartons of the brand he likes, so he settles for a couple of packs. Tosses a candy bar down. He’s never known a woman to turn down chocolate. Sees the bucket of long stemmed roses on the counter and adds that to his purchases. Crimson petals. Baby’s breath. Tightly wrapped in plastic sheeting. Hands it to you when he gets back in the car, along with the candy. You’re hesitating again, tentatively reaching for this latest offering.

“You’ve had a shitty night. You deserve a treat.” Maybe he shouldn’t use profanity in front of you. You look a little wide eyed.

“Apologies. I tend to have a bit of a potty mouth when it’s this late. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s okay.” You glance down at your gifts. “You didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”

The older man nods, pulling on the bit of plastic to unwind the top casing of one of the packs of cigarettes. Cranks the drivers side window down partially and sits a cigarette between his teeth before pressing the glowing ring of the lighter to the tip of the paper wrapping. A grateful inhale and exhale aimed towards the open window. He replaced the lighter back in the slot and glances over at you. “Another bad habit. I try not indulge too often but…” A sort of apology. You shrug.

“My boy—my ex never got me anything.” You’re still looking at his purchases now resting on your lap.

He grunts. “How long were you together?”

“Almost six months.”

He shakes his head, taking another drag. “I think he’s probably done you a favor by leaving, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now. Doesn’t know how to treat a lady. Immature punk didn’t deserve you in the first place.” Said a bit vehemently. “You can do better.”

You don’t look entirely convinced, but that’s to be expected. You’re young, yet. You’ll learn.

“You ready to go?”

You nod. You live close by. Simple directions. Barely enough time to finish his cigarette. He pulls into your driveway, reaching over the seat to retrieve your backpack. You unzip it and tuck the rose and chocolate inside carefully. The plum handkerchief still resting on your thighs, carefully refolded so that your bodily fluids are discretely secured in the innermost portions.

“Just leave it there.” You follow his instructions, dropping it into the cupholder.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Afton. And…everything else.”

“My pleasure.”

Afton waits until he sees you’ve made it safely into the house. Withdraws a second cigarette from the pack before he shifts the vehicle into reverse. Another hasty shove at the lighter to heat the coil. Glancing over at the now vacant seat you’d occupied. Funny how he’d never really noticed you before tonight. He’s not even certain where you work. The prize counter, maybe? He’s trying to recall seeing you on the cameras in his office. Still uncertain. Lights the cigarette and inhales deeply. Smoke clouding the car. Back in the rear parking lot behind the pizzeria. The last of the dose of nicotine consumed. Still remaining seated.

Thinking.

***

Time heals all wounds. Or so they say.

William isn’t certain he agrees with that sentiment, but in your case it seems to be holding true. He’d been correct. You do work the prize counter. Collecting tickets and distributing trinkets to the customers. The solemn line of your lips curving more easily into a smile now that several weeks have passed. Your movements lighter, less burdened. He watches you in person. On the cameras in the privacy of his office. And it’s not just your features he’s admiring now, either. The black work pants cling to your ass when you bend over. Sometimes he’s lucky enough to view you coming through the employee entrance still in your school uniform. Plaid skirt. Blouse and jumper. Knee high socks. His mouth waters. He shouldn’t be looking. But he can’t stop now that he’s started.

It’s been a long while since Afton’s jerked off. Trying to get his wife to surrender even for a brief session but she’s still uninterested. His pent up desire is taking its toll. He needs release. He could just stroke to some porn. Easy enough to pull it up on his computer, especially at work, where no one else has access and he can do as he likes without fear of someone seeing his browsing history. But he doesn’t want to watch some actress pretending. Even the alleged amateurs feel scripted and staged and unnatural. And he doesn’t really need any of that anyway, does he? Because there you are. Onscreen. Real. Vibrant. He makes certain his office door is locked. Eases suspender straps over his shoulders. Thumbs open the button of his fly and drags the zipper down. Shoving the hem of his dress shirt out of the way. Was he really doing this? Jerking off to one of his teenage, barely legal employees? Apparently so. Because his cock is already fully erect and in his hand. The gnawing guilt suppressed by his unsated lust. Is this what he’s become? Dirty, perverted old man, he scolds himself silently. But his dick doesn’t care. It’s already drooling at the sight of you. Precum making his fingers glide over the glans, smearing over that delicate underside. He can’t remember the last time he’d been this level of aroused. Maybe the night he’d made his last son. That thought might have stopped him right there, but his mind knows how to twist that idea back away from his wife and family to you. Imagines breeding you. Filling you up. He’s willing to bet you’re a virgin. He doubts that loser you’d dated had ever gotten you off. How he’d love to try his hand. His mouth. Impale you on this fat prick of his. That plush ass riding him. Inhaling sharply through his nostrils, his body automatically moving to the edge of the desk where the monitors are stacked. Pumping faster, his cock sliding in and out of digits that form a tight ring, then loosen and caress the head. Over and over. Pushing into those pretty pink lips of yours. The ones he can view right now. The ones he can’t. His balls tight. Building pressure. He’s going to do it. You’re going to make him.

Cum shooting across the scant space between his cock and the screen. Spraying over it. Over the image of your body. His free hand grasping the edge of the desk. Fuck. So much jizz. He’d waited too long. He should do this more often.

Should he do this more often? This or…

Cleaning the glass. Wiping whatever was left off his cock, his hands. The handkerchief seeing use again. He reaches for the smoke alarm, dragging the nine volt battery out if its compartment to disable it. Sits heavily in the swivel chair behind the desk and lights a cigarette.

Thinking again of you. Impure thoughts. So many.

***

William’s waiting for you by the employee entrance when you arrive after school the next day. You smile and greet him, already moving to the restroom to get changed when he halts you, his hand heavy on your arm.

“I’ve been going through the employee files and I’ve just realized you’ve never completed the training videos.”

“Oh. Well, I mean, there’s not much to running the prize counter. I think I’m good.”

He doesn’t remove his hand. “They’re not that kind of training video. More like…what to do in an emergency situation. Fire safety. Disaster protocols. That sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Another little breath of sound. “So, is it something I can watch at home? Like a video?”

“Afraid not. Company property and policy wouldn’t allow it. I’m supposed to supervise the viewing. There’s a written exam portion as well.”

“So when can I view it, then?”

“I’ve got someone covering the counter. You can get it over with right now.”

“Okay.” Is there a flicker of doubt in your eyes? Maybe. But you still trust him. He’d never given you reason not to. He’s never been anything but kind to you, after all. “I’ll just go get changed. Where am I going to watch it?”

Afton wishes there was an excuse for you to remain in your skirt. But there really isn’t any that he can readily think of. “My office.”

The doubt a little more visible this time. “Are there a lot of people that got missed?”

“A few. But they’re not on today. It’ll just be you and I.” A smile that is less than savory. He can’t help himself. He really can’t. “I’ll be waiting in my office.”

You change quickly. You’ve never had a reason to be in his office before. He sees you looking around the space. Noting the only chair is the one the owner is seated in. The stacks of monitors. The television and VCR on the wheeled cart positioned within view from his chair.

“Shut the door. The noise, you know.” So innocently explained. Such a lie.

You do so, walking uncertainly towards his desk. “Should I go get a chair or…”

“Not at all. Have a seat.” The older man pats his thigh.

Openly skeptical now. “I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“Nonsense. It’s not going to be for long, anyway.”

“I’ll just stand.”

“You’ll sit.” A dark edge to his tone now. His teeth flash in a mock consulatory grin. “Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

He sees your throat shift to accommodate the thick wash of saliva you’re shoving down. So nervous. He imagines you heartbeat is quite rapid, like his own. Moving reluctantly. Barely touching him, hovering, really. “Relax, get comfortable.” As if being perched on your employer’s thigh was such. Your legs are tightly tucked together until he shifts and they spread over his leg, close to his knee, one hand splayed across your front to stabilize you. Fingers just shy of anything dangerous. Merely spread over your waist and stomach. The television screen illuminated when he thumbs the remote with his unoccupied hand. There actually was a safety training video; he hadn’t been lying about that.

You’re so tense against him, your spine ramrod straight. His cock is already hardening but it’s you he devotes his attention to. Lifting his leg ever so subtly. Your crotch warm against him. The faintest response back. Your thighs tightening. Clutching him. Perhaps feeling the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. The volume of the television is low, barely audible. He’d heard you’d reconciled with that boy again. Lesson apparently not learned. And he’d cheated. This time you’d been the one to leave. He imagines you feel hurt and betrayed. Unsatisfied. Still searching for something you keep being denied. Why not get a little revenge? Anyone can forgive a rapid rebound. He’s murmuring these things to you now. His free hand squeezing your thigh, just shy of your crotch. Your body tightening around him again. The grinding motion unmistakable. You want it. You want him. So feverish against his thigh. Damp now. Your arousal saturating your panties, your work slacks, straight through to his own. His cock screaming for attention, straining against the zipper. Not yet. As much as he’d love to just ruin you right now, he’s going to wait. Make you want it even more.

Your fingers close over the ones still draped over your thigh. William squeezes them. Whispers somewhere along your back, near your shoulder. “Good girl, you’re such a good girl, so beautiful…” A needy sound escapes your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me, let go…”

Your body shakes violently against him. You’re louder than he’d anticipated. Perhaps he should have locked the door. Now rag doll limp against him. Panting. Maybe not the first time you’d ever climaxed, but your first time getting off with someone else. Using him. So wonton. It’s going to take him absolutely no time at all to spill his seed after this little session. The video has ended, the screen now a solid state of blue.

You seem to have recovered. Sliding free. A definitely wet spot on his trousers. Your cheeks flaming red when you see that mark of debauchery. Flicking to his crotch. He can hardly blame you. He’s larger than average and it’s certainly demanding attention. You look hurriedly away.

“You can go now. You’re all set.” Your boss shuts the television off, standing to push the cart back to the side of the room.

You’re staring. Mouth open. Breathing still a little haggard. “What about the exam?”

“You’ve passed. I’ll be sure to mark it down in your file. Shut the door on your way back out, please.” You seem confused by his sudden dismissal. That’s to be expected. It’s just as far as he’s willing to take it right now. The start of your descent with him. Leaving innocence behind.

As soon as you’re gone his cock is in his hands. Afton’s staring at the wet stain you’ve placed on him. Another orgasm that leaves him breathless and cursing.

***

The restaurant closes for the evening. William’s car is in the shop. An unfortunate break down on the way to work. His business partner has conveniently chosen that day to visit, only too happy to offer a ride, the man’s wife in the passenger seat after Afton volunteers to sit in the back with a fellow employee who also needs a ride.

You, of course.

You’re seated close to the door, as if you’re ready to bolt from the vehicle at any moment. No one in the front of the car is paying you any mind. Conversing with each other, with the pizzeria owner. Talking and laughing. William’s left hand is stealthily unfastening the front of your pants. A quick, panicked look from you that he senses rather than sees in the near darkness. Fingers deftly dipping beneath the elastic waistband of your panties. His first time touching you like this. A little gasp that goes unheard beneath the layers of talk. Of course you’re already slick. He’s circling your clit. Feels you moving, perhaps involuntarily, perhaps not. Trying to get him deeper, further down. But he’s not violating you tonight. His middle finger rests beside the nub and begins rotating it against the bone beneath. Another gasp, this one much louder. His lips by your ear, laid along the nest of your fragrant hair. “You’re going to need to be quiet when you cum this time, love.”

William’s name is uttered from the front of the vehicle. He’s lost the thread of conversation. Apologizes and resumes the discussion. You rest your elbow on the narrow shelf of padding at the top of the door, curled fingers in your mouth, your teeth clutching your index finger. Your employer quickens his pace. Feels the tremors beginning. He can only imagine how tightly you’re biting down to keep silent. Relentlessly fondling your hooded button. Your thighs squeezing together, trapping his hand when you explode. He persists in fondling you until he’s certain he’s wrung you out. Finally withdraws, leaving you to refasten your pants. You’ve arrived at your destination. You murmur a quick thanks to the driver. Your eyes find Afton’s. “See you tomorrow,” he says cheerfully. The fingers that have touched you between your legs are brought to his lips. Long tongue curling around them. Eyes rolling back in rapture at the taste of you. You escape indoors, safe from him for tonight.

Tomorrow will be a different story.

***

On Friday and Saturday evenings, the pizzeria is open for an additional hour, but that often gets pushed closer to two. Midnight. Witching hour. The final stragglers finally exiting the building.

You’re locking the cabinets at the prize counter, ready to depart too.

William makes his way to you in such a way that it looks casual. Unintentional. Just heading in that direction, past staff that are scurrying to finish clearing the tables. “Don’t go anywhere.” Low under his breath. You have that look of going tharn. Deer frozen in headlights. Frightened little rabbit. He strides away. Assists with the last of the clean up. Whatever it takes to get people to leave faster so he can be alone with you.

Front and rear door closed and locked. Lights dimmed. It’s just you and Afton now.

Casually lifting a chair from beneath one of the tables. Red vinyl padded seat cushion. Twining curls of dark stained wood for the back support. He sets it at one end of the prize counter. You’re still behind it. Had been fussing with things, making yourself look busy if anyone happened to be curious as to why you were delaying.

He rounds the corner and approaches. Advancing towards you. Sees you retreat until you bump against the glass casing. “I heard you’ve reconciled with that boy again.” His voice low. Disapproving.

You blink, swallowing nervously. “He said he was sorry. He’s been doing better.”

“You think he meant it? Better how? Is he buying you things? Taking you to nice places?”

“No, but—”

“Is he satisfying you? Making you cum?” You flush. A little gasp. Still a virgin, then. Afton inwardly sighs with relief. “Well? I’m waiting for an answer.”

“No.”

“I thought not.” He unfastens the button of your fly and roughly drags the zipper down. “Do you think you deserve to be touched? After you keep going behind my back with this boy? I guarantee you he’s not faithful. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“You’re a cheater, too,” you mumble.

The hand reaching for your panties freezes. “Only because my wife won’t go near me. So it’s come to this. And I hardly,” he jerks your underwear and pants down over your hips in one go, “think you’re in any position to pass judgment on someone who’s your elder.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Afton.”

He grunts. “Are you, though? I wonder. Take all of this off.” He steps back, looking at you expectantly.

“What, like everything?”

“Yes, like everything. Not a stitch on.”

He sees you hesitate and scowls. “You’re disappointing me,” he warns.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur hastily. He watches as you pull your shirt with the restaurant logo over your head and set it on the counter. Unhook your bra and shyly slide the straps over your shoulders. Finish removing the garments covering the lower half of your body after unlacing canvas sneakers and pulling off your ankle socks. Completely nude now. His eyes roving over you appreciatively.

“Let’s get you up on the counter here.” He has to assist you, hands at your waist, lifting you to sit on the glass surface. You’re avoiding his gaze. “What is it about that boy you like so much?”

You shrug uncomfortably. “He loves me.”

“He says he loves you,” William corrects. “What else?”

“He kisses me.”

A feral grin. “Is that what you want? Someone to lie to you and tell you they love you? Do you imagine a teenager fumbling at your mouth is better than an adult, experienced man?” Another shrug. “Look at me. Look at me,” he repeats, gripping your chin and turning your face to his. “I will only say this once. He is nothing. You will leave him again, and you will not go back.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you are mine. If you do not comply, I’ll be forced to take more…drastic measures. Understood? Don’t make me repeat myself. Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Yes, Mr. Afton.”

“Good girl. Now that that unpleasantness is sorted, we can turn to other matters. I’m willing to bet that pussy of yours is already drooling all over that counter you’re sitting on. Shall I check? Or maybe just…” He grabs your legs, lifting them up and then dragging you until you’re near the edge of the cabinet. Your skin squeaks against the glass. “Lie back.”

You’re shivering. He runs his hands over your thighs. “Relax. You’re going to enjoy this, I promise you. Having a real man take care of you.” His hand heavy on the back of your neck. “You want a real kiss?” You nod. He smirks. “Open your legs.” A slight parting. “No, that won’t do. Spread them the way you do when you touch yourself and you think about me. Don’t look so surprised. I know that’s what you do. Maybe as soon as you get home from work. Rushing up to your room claiming you’re tired, you have homework. But that’s not it, is it?” His fingers snake along the inside of one thigh. “Rubbing your clit and wondering when the next time I’m going to touch you will be. I don’t even need to touch you for you to come, though, do I? Just sitting on my lap was enough. Debasing yourself like some cheap whore. Open your fucking legs.” The teasing tone abandoned, the last sentence uttered through gritted teeth. You hastily comply. He slumps into the chair, hands cupping your hips and dragging you still closer until you’re barely on the edge. Tongue darting out to stroke along your inner labia, parting them, scooping up the fluids pooling at your entrance, dragging up to your clit. Your back arches off the counter and you whimper, your thighs reflexively trying to clamp together but he’s holding you open now. There’s no escaping his mouth. And now that he’s had a taste of you, he’s not going to stop.

“You’re soaked. That ripe cunt is begging for it.” Sucking the bundle of nerve endings. Lewd sounds when his tongue flicks across your flesh. Around and between the pink petals, darting lower, then moving back up to tease the swelling hooded area. All too soon he can sense your orgasm building and he retreats, the strokes of muscle less rapid, less firm. Soft brushes of his lips. Kisses along the inside of your thighs. On your mound. You’re brave enough to seed your fingers in his hair. Pulling him more firmly against your pussy. “You want to cum? You think you deserve it?”

“Please, Mr. Afton…”

You sounded so needy. So eager. Whining. Begging. It’s music to his ears. He continues teasing you. Prolonging. Bringing you to the brink and then dragging you back from the edge. Over and over. The muscles in your legs tremoring violently. The forearm that extends so you can clutch his hair held taut. Your neck craning up to watch what he’s doing before dropping back down, thudding loudly against the glass. Shifting the contents below, the cheap toys in the bins jostling together. Stuffed animals taking a tumble. His tongue fucks your opening. Mouth closing over your clit now. Sucking hard. Relentless this time. You’re keening. Pulling his hair, mashing him against you even tighter.

“Mr. Afton…oh my God, I’m cumming, oh fuck...” Now there’s a word he hasn’t anticipated you uttering. Sullied so easily. Not so pure now, and he’s only just begun your lessons in corruption.

William releases your trembling thighs and rises from the chair. He could eat your delicious cunt all night and be perfectly content but he knows you have to return home soon. Parents expecting you and all that. So he’s going to make his own release quick. You don’t even need to lift a finger. Just lying there like a blank canvas waiting to be painted. Jerking off right in front of your flushed sex. Spilling white over the pink. He wishes it was inside of you. He’s halfway tempted to scoop it up and feed it to that ravenous pussy of yours. Shove coated fingers deep inside you. That urge to breed you surging through him. He misses it. Swollen belly and milk filled tits. Fuck. A few last pumps and he’s finally drained.

When you’ve both recovered, he helps you down from the counter. The glass a streaked mess. He sees you looking at it. Waves a hand in the air. “Don’t concern yourself with that. Go get cleaned up.” You gather your clothes. Disappear to the nearest restroom. Afton grabs a bottle of spray ammonia and a roll of paper towels from the nearby cabinet, scrubbing until the surface is crystal clear. Decides the interior can be straightened out tomorrow. Returns the chair to its proper place and ensures he’s all put together again. Shirt tucked neatly. Pants fastened. Suspenders and bowtie in place. Hair smoothed back into place, face cleared of any of your residual fluids. Again, not that anyone at home would notice. He doesn’t really know why he’s bothering.

You’re standing by the rear exit. Your boss is surprised, thinking you might already have left. Waiting for permission, maybe. He nods and you reach for the handle. “Wait.” You turn back to face him. Looking a little wary. Wondering what else he’ll demand of you tonight.

Fingers tucking under your chin, lifting it. His lips brushing yours. You’re tense at first. Then relax. Melting. His tongue parts your lips, licking you open. A soft moan that he echoes. He likes this. He should have kissed you sooner. His cock stirring again. He wishes there was more time. He wonders what you think of the taste of yourself. If you’ve already sampled the honey from that nether region, out of curiousity, of lust.

“Goodnight,” William says roughly.

Do you seem a little reluctant to part? Or is he imagining it? “Goodnight, Mr. Afton.”

Then you’re through the door. Gone. He locks it behind himself. Walking to the only car left in the parking lot, yours already departed. Lighting a cigarette before he leaves. Nicotine laced with your nectar heavy on his tongue.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #dividers credit @ saradikagraphics

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humblequestvinyl · 10 months

Text

halloween

HALLOWEEN, FISHER!BROTHERS X SISTER!READER

APART OF THE ‘WE’LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER SERIES’

SUMMARY: when it’s susannah fishers favorite holiday, the youngest fisher tries to honor her mother, but it’s impossible when she feels haunted by it.

inspired by halloween by noah kahan

◀ ⏸ ▶

lowercase intentional! wc: 1.7k

warnings: implied/written in age (because it is the youngest fisher) HEAVY drinking, fem love interest! a breakdown, mentions of death, swearing

a/n: HELLOOO this is connecting to the view between villages blurb, so if you haven’t read that pls do! if you don’t no worries either!! loving this series so far omgomgomg also this desc isnt great (sorry) & BACK TO DECEMBER TV IN THE TRAILER IM LOSING IT.

IT WAS LESS THAN A WEEK LATER WHEN SUSANNAH’S FAVORITE HOLIDAY CAME,

and it would be the first year the fisher siblings wouldn’t be able to spend it with her.

it was late in the afternoon as y/n sat down on the beach, sipping on the only beer conrad had picked up the entire time they had been in cousin’s, waiting for her brothers to come back from the store.

it had been over an hour since they had left, and throughout that entire time, Y/N had stayed in the same place, drifting off to a place she always feared. she had seen it happen to other people, and always heard about it but had never experienced it herself.

the girl broke out of her thoughts as she heard footsteps heading towards her, and her head snapped behind her, seeing conrad walking towards her with a beer in his hand.

“is that for me?”she questioned as he sat next to her, and he chuckled before shaking his head and taking a sip of it. “you’re not even supposed to be drinking that.”

“maybe don’t leave beer where the sixteen year old can get it.”y/n shrugged, before the two sat silently, with an understanding that’s how it had to be right now to even try and get through the girl.

conrad and y/n always understood each other. maybe it was because they both had aquarius sun’s, or it was conrad knew how y/n felt when she quit volleyball just because of their father. ruining the one thing she truly loved the most besides her mom and cousins beach.

the two watched as the waves crashed against the sand, and fizzled out, representing the feeling the two felt.

y/n always joked that when they were talking about what taylor swift songs represented them, he was the archer, and she was the one who was trying, while jeremiah a mirrorball.

the three fisher siblings; the one who never grew up, the one who got wasted like all of her potential, and the one who when they break, it's in a million pieces.

“what do you think belly, laurel and steven are doing right now?”y/n asked quietly after a while, and conrad chuckled, taking another sip of his beer before the two heard a voice behind them.

“laurel’s probably writing while belly’s with taylor, and steven i know for a fact is with their dad.”jeremiah spoke up, and y/n watched as he sat next to her, sipping a can of coke the fisher boys had picked up at the store.

“what are our plans for tonight?”jer questioned, and y/n looked back towards the water, with emptiness filling her.

“there’s a party going on down the shore at michael’s.”y/n spoke up, and she saw the look both of her brothers were giving her, knowing where she was talking about was some weird guy who was only popular because his parents had money.

“after last summer you still wanna go there?”conrad questioned, and y/n shrugged, not really caring as long as there was alcohol, “i’m going either way.”

the two fisher brothers watched as she stood up, and walked back towards the house with an empty bottle of beer in her hand, and more grief than anyone could have imagined.

“we’re both in agreement she’s not going to that party right?”jeremiah questioned, watching as conrad took a sip of his beer, before doing a quick nod.

“absolutely.”

—

SOMEHOW WITHOUT HER BROTHERS KNOWING, Y/N ENDED UP AT THE PARTY.

with a red solo cup in her hand, and shitty synth-pop music blaring through the speakers that were in the living room, the h/c felt like she had succeeded in her mission of escaping her brothers.

she was sick and tired of their worried looks, and them wanting her to be okay when in reality nothing was okay. it was in absolute shambles, and scattered everywhere in little shards, almost like a mirrorball.

memories that once glimmered and brought the girl so much joy, now stabbed her and opened up a new wound everytime she thought about it.

like dress shopping for the deb ball.

this year was supposed to be her year to do it. this was the year she was supposed to pick out her white dress, learn how to courtesy, how to have the proper manners, and to be escorted out and to dance with whoever she chose. as her mother always said, it was her turn to be ‘in bloom’.

instead, she felt like she was shriveled up and dead. she felt like those flowers that you had left out in the sun for too long, never gave any water to, and when you finally remembered that you had them, they were depressing looking, with the petals falling apart.

taking a sip of whatever alcohol she had in her cup, her nose scrunched as it burned going down, knowing this was a constant cycle of today. y/n didn’t know how many she had already, and she didn’t really care as long as it ended with her being passed out drunk later that night.

she had been there for almost two hours, and the room was already spinning on her. stumbling towards the kitchen, the girl finished her drink before going to pour another before blue eyes met hers, and she stopped.

“how many have you had already?”the girl in front of her questioned, and y/n placed the bottle of vodka down on the counter, and pursed her lips as she stayed silent for a few moments.

“who cares emerson.”y/n finally spoke up, watching as the girl in front of her pulled her brunette hair back into a low ponytail, just like she always did.

emerson scott. the girl from last summer y/n had spent as much time as she could with, when both girls weren’t working or at the beach. the girl who had shown up for her when others didn’t.

the girl she loved the most.

“well, obviously me.”emerson pulled the red solo cup away from the girl, and leaned on the counter, “i don’t want you to get alcohol poisoning.”

“yeah well i do.”y/n stated as emerson handed her a bottle of water to try and lessen the girls hangover, “at this point, i’d love it.”

“well too bad.”emerson told her, and y/n rolled her eyes, not really giving a shit on what the girl in front of her thought.

“will you let me take you home?”the brunette questioned, causing y/n to glare at the sixteen year old, not wanting to leave and go back to the beach house she was convinced was haunted.

“absolutely not.”y/n denied, before starting to walk away, but emerson was right by her side, “emerson i’m serious.”

“i know you are n/n.”emerson told the youngest fisher as she walked through the house to get towards the exit, and started to walk out, “if you’re going to leave can you at least let me get you ice cream or something?”

“why!”y/n threw her arms up in frustration, wanting nothing more than to be left alone and down her sorrows, “i’m not going home and i’m sure as hell not in the mood for you to say we’re not going back to my house and then we end up fucking there!”

“y/n,”emerson gently grabbed ahold of the girls hand, trying to make sure she didn’t stumble into the street in her drunken state, “i’m being serious. if you don’t want to go back we won’t. i wouldn’t lie about that.”

“everyone fucking says that!”the h/c cursed, as her bottom lip quivered, “first it was conrad who told me last summer that everything was fine, and dad just had to go on a trip on the fourth when in reality my parents were getting a divorce because my dad is a piece of shit!”

“next it was my dad who claims he’s not disappointed in me for quitting volleyball when every time he looks at me it’s filled with disappointment and makes me feel like a failure!”she yelled, ripping her hand away from emerson, as she continued on her rant, “finally it was mom who said that her cancer wasn’t back, but guess-fucking-what! she lied because now she’s six feet under in some cemetery in brighton!”

“i’m sick and tired of being lied to because everytime someone lies to me, it ends up going to shit!”she screamed, before a sob escaped her lips, and emerson wrapped the girl in a tight hug.

“i can’t do it anymore emmy.”the girl cried, clutching onto the brunette tightly, “i can’t continue being fucking lied to.”

it was awhile before the e/c girl sobs turned into cries, and those cries turned into whimpers, and emerson was able to get the girl into her car, with taylor swift playing softly in the background.

my tears ricochet started to play, and y/n looked out the window as emerson had started to drive away to god knows where, but y/n didn’t care. she watched as they exited out of cousin’s, and towards the city y/n adored so much.

boston.

the remaining fisher girl watched as a murder of crows flew over the skyline of boston as they entered it, and the city of boston reminded y/n of a ghost town.

as they entered the city, presumably to just drive around and get the girl away from cousins, her eyes started to become heavy, and she slowly fell asleep as the sound of taylor swift’s voice reminded her of a soft lullaby.

emerson looked over at the girl, seeing her finally be relaxed since her mom had passed, and a small frown was placed on the blue eyed girl’s lips.

it wasn’t halloween, but the ghost of susannah fisher knew how to haunt y/n.

#conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #the summer i turned pretty angst #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher angst #susannah fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher angst #we'll all be here forever series #fisher brothers x sister!reader #conrad fisher x sister!reader #jeremiah fisher x sister!reader #the summer i turned pretty

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itshannjisung · 3 months

Text

• Like A Volcano | Part One | •

Han Jisung Mini Series

♡ itshannjisungs masterlist ♡

Series Masterlist

Chapter Genre: Fluff 💕Angst⚡️ Crack💥

-Bestfriends to Lovers Trope-

Summary: being best friends with the kings of kpop always has its ups and downs, and when you're offered a spot on the next European-American book tour to promote the publishing of your new book, there's one kpop king in particular who just doesn't want you to go.

Pairing: Idol!Han Jisung x Female Reader x Bestfriend Skz

** Includes two of my own original female characters, both whom are romantically involved with two of the members. Chan x Jo / Minho x Ash **

Warnings: a lil bit of fluff. angst. swearing. sexual innuendos. use of alcohol. best friend skz. selfish han jisung. lots of crying. the boys do not use honorifics.

Word Count: 9.3k

**this chapter is unchanged**

Enjoy!

Lately you’ve been feeling like you were the last of your kind.

You sat slouched back in a drunken haze, your eyes glaring at yet another group of girls as they squealed annoyingly with one another. One of the females, a tall blonde with long hair and even longer legs, had just emerged from a dark room with a male idol you didn’t care enough to recognize. The male removed himself from her side immediately and disappeared into the crowd of people that littered the large house, no doubt looking for his next target, while she was carried away by her friends towards the nearby bathroom. The girls all giggled and whispered in not-so-hushed voices, vying for the dirty details you doubt any of them would experience themselves.

You sent a hard glare to the closed door they locked themselves behind and took a long swig from your red solo cup. Even over the music and ever-growing chatter around you, you could still hear the flock of airheads screaming relentlessly in excitement for their friend.

Girls your age have always been so fucking dramatic and it annoyed the hell out of you.

“What’s wrong y/n? Can’t handle a little competition?” a familiar voice cooed softly in your ear as the cushion next to you sank and a muscular arm hooked itself around your neck. Changbin planted a kiss on your cheek before taking the cup from your hand and chugging the rest of the liquid inside. He gave you a satisfied look at your drink of choice as he swallowed before tossing the empty cup onto the table in front of you. “I never pegged you for the jealous type.”

“Come on Binnie,” you joked, lazily turning your head towards him. “You know I put all those girls to shame.” It took a couple of seconds for your mind to catch up to your movements and you were left giggling at the delayed response of your own brain.

It’s been a while since you’ve been this tipsy and damn, did it feel good.

“You’re damn right you do.” Jisung hopped over the back of the L-shaped couch you were stretched out on and settled himself beneath your legs. He had two red cups in his hands and he handed one to you out of habit, which you happily accepted. “Those chicks don’t even come close to the level you sit on, Bubs.” he purred, his hand coming to rest on your thigh.

You smiled at his words, loving the way your ego grew as each syllable left his mouth.

“And that, my dear Sungie-” you leaned in towards him and flicked his nose. “-is why you guys are my best friends.”

Jisung gave you a wide smile in return and pushed his dark hair out of his eyes before he began toying with the strings that were hanging from the multiple rips in your black jeans.

“Because I’m devilishly handsome and put you on a pedestal not even God can reach?”

You let out a sigh and fell back into the side of Changbin’s body, resting your head against his shoulder for support and cuddling into the warmth his strong torso always emitted.

“Because you guys always lie to me so perfectly that I have no choice but to believe it.” you corrected him before chugging back whatever Jisung had filled your cup with.

You swallowed in disgust as the tequila burned the back of your throat. This was definitely going to be your last drink of the night.

Jisung just smirked at you, choosing not to respond to your words as his hand rubbed up and down your leg soothingly, absentmindedly tracing soft circles on whatever skin he came across.

Changbin, however, took immediate offence to your words, as he usually did, and wasted no time speaking out against your claims.

“Yah! We’d never lie to you, Bunny!” he protested, his phone momentarily forgotten as he frowned down at you.

You turned your head up to give him a blank look.

“Binne, you guys literally lied to me last week about going to the gym.”

“No we didn’t.”

“Yes. You did.” you deadpanned. “I asked if you guys wanted to go and get ice cream, and the two of you claimed you couldn’t because you were meeting Chan for arm day.”

The two boys exchanged a look of confusion before shrugging their shoulders at you. You rolled your eyes at them.

“I literally caught you guys eating ice cream together, at the ice cream place, without me. Do you know how much I had to pay Innie to come with me that night? Dude doesn’t like to be rented out for cheap, I’ll tell you that much.” you muttered before taking another long, treacherous drink from the cup.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders again and gave you a guilty look.

“To be fair, Bunny, the last time we went out for ice cream together you ate half of my sundae.” he stated, as if that made everything better. You glared at him, resisting the urge to punch him in the arm.

“Yeah, because you ate half of my cone. In one fucking bite!” you bit back.

“Hey now, it’s not Changbin's fault he’s got such a large mouth.” Jisung reasoned. Changbin took the opportunity to make the joke you knew would come the second the words left Jisung's mouth.

“I’ll show you something else that’s big.” he smirked down at you, his eyebrow raised mischievously as he popped his chest. You rolled your eyes and let out a groan.

“You guys are pigs.”

Jisung frowned at you. “So mean.”

“Says the one who lied to me.” you shot back, trying to stop the grin that fell on your face as you pulled a pillow out from behind your body and threw it at Jisung. You loved bantering with these two. You sure were going to miss this.

Jisung caught the pillow with his one hand and threw his other up in surrender, nearly spilling his drink in the process.

“Okay, okay, we’re sorry! We did go to the gym, but decided to have some guy time before coming home. You know, just us dudes.”

You feigned offence, turning your mouth down into a frown and pouting at Jisung. You knew your actions would immediately tug at your best friends heart strings, but you continued to push your lip out further for added effect.

“We’ve been best friends for nearly six years now. When did I get downgraded from one of the dudes to just some basic bitch?” You saw the way Jisungs face softened at your pout and you felt victorious. That is until Changbin opened his mouth and made you nearly spit your drink out directly into Jisungs face.

“Since Jisung realized he’d rather fuck your brains out than fist-bump you.”

Both you and Jisung turned to stare at Changbin.

“Oh my god! Binnie! What the hell?”

“Dude, come on. What the hell?”

You and Jisung spoke at the same time, your face twisted into a look of utter shock, while Jisung looked as if he wanted to beat Changbin to death right then and there.

“What?” Changbin laughed, smiling between the two of you as if what he said was the most natural sentence in the world. “I’m just saying.”

“You guys are pigs.” You repeated your earlier statement, rolling your eyes at him and squishing yourself into the corner of the couch.

“Maybe, but you love us.” Changbin said confidently.

“Well, that’s certainly debatable.” you retorted. Changbin just stuck his tongue out at you before pulling his phone back out of his pocket and going back to scrolling, indicating the conversation was done and he was satisfied with the havoc he caused.

You glanced over at Jisung, his face flushed with embarrassment as he chugged his drink back in one gulp. You were going to reach out to reassure him everything was okay and that you knew Changbin was only teasing, but just before your hand reached his, he jumped abruptly from his spot.

“Need another drink.” Was all he managed to mumble out before he disappeared into the crowd.

You glared over at Binnie. “Nice going, Bin.”

Changbin rolled his eyes in annoyance before standing up and straightening his clothes.

“I’ll go take care of it.” he muttered, shaking his head as he shoved his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. You called after him to be nice, but you doubt he heard you.

You took another gulp of your drink, finishing it off completely as Felix then approached the couch with a pout. His lower lip jutted out further than yours had and he looked incredibly cute.

“Lixie," you drawled, concern lacing your tone as you reached out for him. "What’s wrong?”

His eyes were red and glassy, his blonde hair was slightly disheveled and he looked so disappointed in himself you thought he was going to cry.

“I lost against Minho in beer pong.” He immediately took your hand and fell to his knees onto the couch before crawling up your body. He nuzzled himself in between your legs, his head resting on your soft stomach while his arms curled comfortably around your waist. Your one hand instantly ran itself through his slightly damp hair while the other rubbed his arm.

You smiled down at him as he propped his chin up on your belly, his frown growing impossibly bigger. You loved how much of a cuddle bug Felix was with you. It was so comforting and relaxing and nice.

“What did you guys bet on this time?” You questioned with a raise of your brow, knowing full well that Minho would never play just for the fun of it. There always had to be a prize to be won, one that he could hold over the loser for the rest of their days.

Felix let out a whimper.

“My black Chelsea boots.”

You tried not to laugh, but the sound escaped you anyways, earning a groan from Felix as he shoved his face back into the fabric of your shirt.

“It’s not funny, y/n.” he grumbled. You laughed again and patted his head.

“I hate to say it, but you did it to yourself Lixie. You know better than to challenge Minho to a drinking game. Didn't you learn your lesson after you lost your sweater?” you joked, your fingers still running through his hair.

“I just wanted to see him drunk. He’s always the only sober one out of all us males. It’s not fair. And now I lost my favorite shoes because I was a fool.”

You laughed at Felix’ words. Despite him being annoyed and upset, his words came out in a delicate sigh as he relaxed into your touch. Running your nails up and down his scalp only made him sigh again and relax even more.

“Don’t worry, Jo will get them back for you.” You reassured him. Your eyes scanned the crowd until you found Jo standing over on the other side of the room with a soda in her hand, situated across the beer pong table from Minho. She had a mischievous look in her big brown eyes as Chan held her lovingly at the waist.

“In fact, I think she’s about to win them back for you right now.” you continued, watching Jo sink her ball into one of Minho’s cups on her first shot. Minho glowered at her like a delinquent as he proceeded to chug back his drink.

Felix lifted his head from your stomach long enough to glance back at the two of them as they faced off in the intense game of beer pong. He chuckled lightly before laying his head back down.

“She’s so brave.” he whispered in amazement. “No wonder Channie loves her so much.”

You let out a laugh in agreement as your eyes stayed glued on your life-long best friends. They were disgustingly cute, and it made you want to throw up and squeal in adoration at the same time.

You watched as Jo then made another shot, sinking another ball, and Chan congratulating her with a kiss to the side of her head, her colored hair swaying as she laughed victoriously.

“She’s the only one I know who can go toe-to-toe with Minho and actually win.”

Felix laughed before curling his fingers into the back of your shirt, squeezing you tighter.

“I’m going to miss you so much, Bunny.” he whispered, his voice suddenly soft and sad. You glanced down at him and took in the look on his face. You could tell he was drunk from the way his eyes couldn’t quite focus on you, but you could also tell he was a second away from crying. Felix always got more emotional when he drank.

“I know Lixie. I’m going to miss you too.” you murmured.

He swallowed roughly, no doubt trying to prevent the lump in his throat from becoming even bigger.

“What am I going to do without you for the next eighteen months?” he asked. He didn’t even give you time to answer before he continued on his rant. “Who’s going to play video games with me until three in the morning and then help me bake cookies afterwards instead of going to bed? Who’s going to cuddle with me like this while we watch our shows and tell me to shut up when I talk through all the important parts? Who’s going to go on early morning walks with me and watch the sunrise from the roof? Who the hell are Seung, Hannie, Binnie and I supposed to flirt with now?”

You gave Felix a look of confusion at his last words, but he didn’t even glance up from where his eyes were now focused on the fabric of the couch. He just rambled on.

“You’re the last single female in the group you know. If we try to flirt with Ash, Minho will threaten to kick our asses for just looking at his fiancée, and if we try to flirt with Jo, she’ll literally kick our asses. You’re the only safe, tame option available. What are we going to do?”

You let out a sigh at his words and gave his head one last scratch with your nails as you braced yourself for the conversation you knew you needed to have. As much as you loved the boys and their naturally flirty nature, you were now officially no longer single, and you needed them to know that their shameless flirting was doing more harm than good.

“Actually, Lixie, about that. I’m not single anymore.” you spoke slowly, bracing yourself for his reaction. You felt his entire body freeze for a moment before his head popped up at the sudden news, eyes wide with shock.

“Wait, you and Seojun made it official?”

You couldn’t tell whether or not he was grimacing at the news, but you gave him a hopeful grin regardless.

“Yeah, we did last week after dinner.”

Felix smiled, though you noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it usually did when he was happy or excited. “Congratulations Bunny.”

You tried not to let his lack of enthusiasm affect you. “Thanks Lixie.”

“Guess I should stop doing this then, hey?” Felix then awkwardly pulled away from you before you could stop him, repositioning himself so he was sitting on the couch with your legs stretched over his lap, much like how you were sitting with Jisung moments earlier. Though, unlike Jisung, Felix’s hands stayed on your knees and didn’t wander. You felt your heart drop at the sudden change in the atmosphere that surrounded you two, but chose not to comment.

Your new boyfriend Seojun never got along with Felix, or any of the other single males in your friend group for that matter. He made an effort to be friendly with Minho and Chan, as they were already happily taken, but he struggled to get used to the idea of you being surrounded by six single males twenty-four seven. Even though Hyunjin and Jeongin saw you more like a sister rather than a potential romantic interest, Seojun was wary of them too.

He was trying to be alright with the idea, you knew that and you appreciated it, but you also knew that he wasn’t going to get used to it overnight, so laying down a boundary with the guys was a must if you wanted this relationship to last.

Felix cleared his throat awkwardly and sent you a hesitant laugh when you glanced his way. “Seriously though, Bun, what are we supposed to do now if we can’t even flirt with our best friend?”

You rolled your eyes and cracked a smile at his question.

“Oh, I don’t know Lixie. Maybe you guys should exert all the energy you use flirting with me into finding actual girlfriends while I’m gone?”

Felix granted you a look of complete and utter disgust, the tension that hovered in the air between you momentarily forgotten. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You sighed.

“I’m sorry Felix, but Seojun is growing less and less fond of you guys by the second, which isn’t good considering he wasn’t very fond of you all to begin with. Anytime you guys open your mouths and make a pass at me, he gets more and more agitated. You guys gotta stop, or at least tone it back.”

Felix let out a snort of discontent. You heard him mumble something about trust and relationships, but just as you were about to question him, you were interrupted by the sound of the music being cut short and microphone feedback echoing loudly off the walls.

You and Felix, along with everyone around you, all jumped at the noise and looked towards where Chan was now hoisting himself up onto the DJ’s stage that sat in the far corner of the living room, microphone in hand.

“Excuse me, can I have everyone's attention please?” he spoke loudly into the mic. The bodies that filled the room all turned to look at Chan as he waved at everyone to quiet down so he could talk. “Guys, please, if I can have a moment?” he tried again.

Groups of party-goers began sauntering out of the kitchen while clusters of people sat down along the staircase and others emerged from rooms looking guilty and disheveled. You were always jealous of how easily Chan could captivate an entire room of people in a matter of moments.

Changbin suddenly plopped back down onto the couch next you, wrapping his arm around your neck once more while Jisung took a seat beside Felix. He looked a little less flustered now, but far more intoxicated than he was before.

Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin pushed their way through the crowd and came around the side of the couch, settling themselves at your feet with drinks in their hands, while Minho plopped into an empty chair across from you, pulling Ash into his lap as he did so.

In a matter of seconds, the entire room was quiet, watching Chan in awe as he flashed his dimples and began to speak.

“Thank you all so much for being here tonight. The guys and I could not have asked for a better turn out. I’m sure a lot of you thought that the guys and I threw this party to celebrate our most recent comeback, but this party is actually a going away party we are throwing for one of our closest and dearest friends.”

When Chan made eye-contact with you and suddenly lifted his finger in your direction, you cringed and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Everyone's head turned your way.

“Y/n, Bunny, would you please join me on stage?” He beckoned you to join him. You resisted an eye roll and sighed as you looked up at Chan, your face flushed. You did not want this to be such a big deal.

“Bunnnnnnyyyyy,” Chan teased a second later, smiling at you expectantly. You shook your head and sent him daggers, begging him not to make you stand up in front of all these people. He didn’t let up though, and instead, he jumped down from the stage and pushed his way through the crowd towards where you sat, giving you a look that you knew all too well.

“Touch me and you die.” you threatened.

Jeongin and Hyunjin leaned out of Chan’s way once he reached the couch, and before you could fight back, Chan grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to your feet. He immediately ducked and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing at all.

He held you firmly with one arm, laughing maniacally as he turned and retreated to the stage, ignoring the way you kicked your legs and begged him to put you down.

“Put me down you fucking heathen!” You squealed, trying to wiggle out of his tight grip.

He didn’t set you down until he was back on the stage, this time joined by Jo, who made sure to give your ass a loud smack before your feet even touched the ground. You glowered at her, but she just smiled and winked at you in return.

She was your absolute best friend in the whole world, like two peas in a pod. She was the Ying to your Yang, the Sugar to your Spice, the Minho to your Jisung, so it was impossible for you to stay mad at her for anything, big or small. Still, you glared at her as she smacked your ass once more before she wrapped her arm around your waist and smiled proudly up at you.

“This girl right here is one of my oldest friends.” Chan announced then, putting his arm around your neck and leaning his head against yours. “She’s one of the coolest, most down-to-earth and loving people I’ve ever met, and tonight, we are celebrating her last night in town, as she leaves for her first ever European-American book tour tomorrow!”

You felt your cheeks and the tips of your ears redden as the crowd of people you mostly recognized but barely knew all erupted into cheers. A lot of them were other idols and groups that trained with Chan and the boys before debut, and they all looked genuinely happy for you, but there were a handful of those who you didn’t know, friends of friends you guessed, who cheered regardless just to feel included.

“This is something she’s been working towards for the last three and a half years! Not only is this her first published book, and first tour ever, but Under Our Stars has just hit number two on New York Time’s Best Selling Books of 2022!”

Again, the crowd burst into cheers at Chan’s statement, your friends being the loudest and proudest of them all, and you fought back a wave of emotion that suddenly entered your body.

“She will be gone for the next eighteen months, so everyone, please, if you respect me and love me, please bid our Bunny goodbye and wish her luck on her journey before you leave tonight.”

Chan paused to grab his drink and raised it in the air.

“To y/n!” he toasted, and everyone in the room toasted along with him. "I am so proud of you Bunny. You deserve all of this. You’re going to kill it out there.”

You smiled awkwardly at the unexpected applause you received, trying to hold back your tears as you planted a peace sign to your dimple and gave the crowd a goofy grin in thanks.

Chan pulled you into a tight hug while the crowd continued to clap for you. You could hear Felix, Minho, Ash, and Seungmin scream your name as Hyunjin and Jeongin began clapping manically. Jisung and Changbin let out a ‘That’s my baby!’ somewhere in the background of the noise, but you were too focused on Chan and his now glossy eyes as you pulled back from his embrace.

“Bang Christopher Chan, are you crying?” you teased quietly, not wanting to draw attention to him. He all but nodded and buried his face into your hair, pulling you in for another tight hug.

“Y/n, you’re one of my closest friends. I’ve known you and Jo since we were in diapers. Writing has always been what you wanted to do, and you’ve spent your life working towards this accomplishment. You got to watch me and the kids live out our dreams, and I’m so excited that we finally get to watch you live out yours.”

The music started up again and people had gone back to what they were doing prior to Chan's dramatic speech, but you were too awestruck by his drunken words to return to your spot on the couch with Changbin. You gave him a frown as the tears escaped his eyes, and you reached up with the sleeve of your sheer shirt to try and wipe some of them away before you hugged him one last time.

“I love you Channie,” you whispered. Chan sniffled once, twice, almost three times before crushing you into his arms, causing Jo to step forward and grab him as he cried.

“Okay Big Guy, let the girl breathe.” she rolled her eyes as she thankfully pulled Chan away from you. “We aren’t saying goodbye until we drop her off at the airport tomorrow. You gotta’ save your strength so you can hold me when I inevitably end up blubbering like a little bitch.” she soothed, the tears still falling dramatically down his face.

He didn’t even care if he looked pathetic. He was so happy for you.

“I’m just so happy for her,” he voiced, practically sobbing into his girlfriend's shoulder. She shushed him and handed the microphone back to the DJ before wrapping her arm around him and pulling his large figure off stage.

You shook your head at him, thankful to have him in your life, before you jumped off the stage yourself and returned to your spot on the couch. People smiled and patted your back as you passed them, congratulating you on your success and wishing you luck, which you awkwardly thanked them for.

When you reached the couch again, you plopped back down in your spot beside Changbin, cuddling into his side. Felix had retreated to the floor with the other three, all four of them watching tiktoks together, allowing Jisung to take his place under your legs once again. Almost immediately after you laid back, Jisung bent his upper body to lay next to you, his head resting on your shoulder as you pulled out your phone and began checking your notifications.

The rest of the night went by like this. You, surrounded by your closest friends, laughing and drinking and enjoying the last few hours of peace you’d have before your life turned into one big stressful puddle. A puddle filled with book signings, late flights, early mornings, meet and greets and more. And even though you acted as if the entire tour wasn’t at all a big deal, deep inside you were scared to death.

*****

You have always been enamoured by Han Jisung.

Ever since you met him pre-debut, you knew he was the type of friend you’d inevitably have for a lifetime. His hard-work and dedication, his playful personality, his big brown eyes and gummy smile. The second he introduced himself to you at Chan’s backyard barbeque, you knew his presence in your life would be infinite.

Sure, he came across as an asshole during his time on the survival show, but you knew right away his attitude was nothing but a façade he had put up in order to protect himself, to mask the anxiety in his brain that never seemed to have an off switch.

But off camera, he was nothing but an introverted goofball who just wanted to be liked by everyone around him. He craved attention and praise, and as he and Chan and the other members who would eventually make up Stray Kids bonded, you and he bonded too, and quickly at that.

It had taken him no longer than two months to worm his way into your heart, and that’s where he snuggled up and stayed, taking up a permanent residence right next to Chan and Jo.

The two of you did everything together. Going out for food, clothes shopping, karaoke, late-night ice cream runs, bike rides, road trips, vlogging on your crappy iphones for no one else except for you two to see. You helped him find beauty in the smallest of things, creating inspiration for his music, and he helped you see the world in a different light, bringing you inspiration for your book.

You two were quick to become the best of friends, the perfect combo, like peanut butter and nutella; loveable on your own but together, you were unstoppable.

You never could pinpoint the exact moment your enamourment with Jisung grew into something more, only that it was after debut, when he really started to find himself. One day he was your best-friend, the next you looked at him as if he hung the stars, because for you, he did.

For you, he would.

Never in a million years did you think he’d feel even an ounce of something in return for you, and when he began bringing home random girls and disappearing into his room with them every Friday night, you knew you’d never be anything more than his best-friend.

But you were okay with that. The affectionate and loving friendship the two of you shared would suffice for the next one hundred years if it had to. You’d take him however you could have him, and if that meant watching him be happy with someone else, then so be it.

It took you a long time to get over some of your feelings for him; some days you still felt like you had a long way to go, but when you met Seojun at the most recent Authors Convention nearly five months prior to this fateful night, it immediately felt easier.

Suddenly, Jisung wasn’t invading every thought, causing a hitch in every breath, being the sole reason for every laugh that bubbled up from your throat. You loved Jisung more than you’ve ever loved anybody else, but with Seojun, it just felt easier to exist, and that was what helped your feelings for Jisung slowly begin to fade.

So, when Jisung wrapped his arms around your waist and snuggled his face into your neck in a drunken stupor, pulling you from your racing thoughts, your breath hitched in your throat, just like it always did. When he planted a soft kiss against your neck right below your ear, small enough for no one else to notice, you froze in place. When a soft whimper left Jisung’s mouth involuntarily, followed by a whispered plea, “Jagiya”, you thought your heart would stop beating right then and there.

Just like it did every time something like this happened.

Before you did something you’d both regret, you had to remind yourself that Jisung was intoxicated and just looking to get his dick wet, that he didn’t actually want you the way you wanted him.

A wave of guilt washed over you.

You knew you needed to tell him about Seojun. As much as you wished Jisung would do it again, you had to remind yourself of the romance you had decided to chase, a promise of a long-lasting relationship with someone who actually liked you back.

You weren’t about to throw that away for a one night stand you knew Jisung would regret in the morning when sobriety took over, no matter how badly a piece of you wanted to.

You needed to tell him, but this was not the time or place.

You gulped as your nerves sprung to life at the mere thought of the conversation, and Jisung picked up on your change in mood instantly. He lifted his head up to look at you in concern as a shaky breath left your mouth.

“You okay, Bubs?” he whispered quietly as to not draw attention to the two of you.

The house was emptying out slowly but surely as the clock drew closer and closer to midnight. A lot of the guests had early morning interviews and practices, so you didn’t expect anyone to really stay past one. But just because loads of people had already said their goodbyes and left, it didn’t mean there weren’t dozens more still lazily hanging about.

The music had dwindled significantly, leaving the room filled with nothing but noisy chatter. Chan and Jo were beginning their slow clean up of the house, accompanied by Minho, Jenn and Felix, but it still felt too crowded to have such an important talk.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” you gave him a reassuring smile, ignoring the way his hands ran up and down your sides. “Can we maybe go somewhere a little quieter? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Jisung gave you one of his goofy, gummy-filled grins and nodded before pulling himself up and off the couch. He grabbed you by the hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he pulled you to your feet and dragged you away from the crowd.

“I’m actually really glad you asked. There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you and I think now is the perfect time.”

You were silent while Jisung pulled you up the staircase and down the hallway towards his bedroom.

“I finished this song yesterday and I really need your opinion on it.” he spoke again as he pulled you into his room and shut the door behind you. He guided you excitedly to his desk and pushed you down into his computer chair, ignoring the way you sighed at him as he opened his laptop and loaded up his music file.

“Sungie, this isn’t really the ti-”

“Please Bubs? Please?” Jisung interrupted, a hopeful look on his face, his hands praying for you to hear him out. “Please, I just need three minutes of your time and then you can have the floor for as long as you want. It’s really important to me.”

You couldn’t help but give in after seeing the twinkle of anticipation in his eyes. You always loved how excited he got over the tracks he made, and how you were always the first one he showed them to. Sure, you knew almost nothing about producing music, just the basics you learned from Chan and Changbin, but Jisung always took your feedback seriously and worked his ass off to make sure each and every track was perfect.

“The working title right now is Volcano. It’s my favorite track yet.” he explained. He handed you his big headphones and helped you place them comfortably on your head before pressing play.

Jisungs expression while he watched your reaction was a mixture of anxiousness, enthusiasm, and hope, and you knew by the intensity of his gaze that this wasn’t just another track he’d stirred up in a day's time. He slaved over this track for months and your opinion and feedback alone would either make or break his decision to release it publicly.

The song was absolutely incredible. You never heard a song so raw, so passionate, so intense before, and you felt yourself get goosebumps along your arms and legs with every word.

You closed your eyes and allowed your entire body to get lost in the beat, the emotion behind Jisungs voice overwhelming you so much that you found tears building up in the corners of your eyes as you listened to the melody, the tune, the lyrics.

It made your heart flutter and clench in pulses, and when that chorus crashed back into your eardrums one final time, you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest and explode.

It was fucking phenomenal.

And then it was over way too soon.

Jisung was quiet while he watched you, smiling while he brought his hand up to wipe away the tears that managed to escape down your face. He waited patiently as you hit the replay button and listened to the song again, not once, not twice, but three more times.

Immediately, it became your favourite song.

After your fourth playthrough, Jisung waited patiently while you salvaged your composure, breathing through the emotions that had hit you like a brick.

“Sungie,” you whispered, shaking your head in amazement as you finally turned to meet his gaze. “That song is-” you trailed off, unable to even find the words to describe what you were feeling right now.

Despite the tears in your eyes and the proud look on your face, Jisung was still nervous.

“Did you like it?” he asked while wringing his hands together.

You let out a huff of laughter, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Like it? Jisung, it’s fucking beautiful. I love it.” you told him honestly.

A breath of relief left Jisungs mouth before his face fell into one of the brightest, cheekiest smiles you’ve ever seen.

“Thank fuck.”

Another laugh bubbled out of your mouth and you gave him a look of endearment.

“What? Was my opinion really that important?” you teased, knowing full well that it was. You were completely unprepared for the next words to slip past his lips.

“Well yeah, I wrote this song for you, Bubs.”

You froze in place, your eyes on his once again as your smile fell.

“What?” you asked.

Jisungs grin grew impossibly wider, his eyes beaming with adoration.

“A fucking beautiful song for a fucking beautiful woman.”

You suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe.

This is not where you wanted this conversation to go.

“Jisung, I don-”

You were cut off abruptly by the sound of your phone ringing loudly in your pocket. Confused and frustrated at the interruption, you pulled it out and felt a sharp pain stab through your chest.

Seojun.

Of fucking course it was Seojun.

“Shit, sorry Ji, I have to take this.”

You didn’t bother waiting for an answer before you jumped from your seat and paced towards the door, trying to keep your voice low. Jisung bit his lip and watched you anxiously, listening in to the one-sided conversation you were having.

He knew the second he saw Seojuns name pop up on your phone that something was up.

“Hey Seojun…. Yeah, I’m doing good, still hanging with the crew… Yeah, I’ll be heading home in the next hour or so to pack… You know I procrastinate!... Well, maybe when I’m home we can facetime and you can help me pack?.... God, you’re so wonderful…. I’ll call you when I’m home okay?… You too…. Bye.”

Jisung tried to keep it together as he overheard you speaking in a low, hushed voice. He tried to keep cool, but he could practically hear his heart shattering as each word left your mouth. You and Seojun were no longer just friends, and all plans to confess his ever-growing feelings to you after pining after you for so long suddenly dissipated.

All the years Jisung spent trying to make you jealous, trying to get your attention, trying to make you see that you were everything to him and more, was in vain. All his advances and relentless flirting had no effect on you.

You had found someone else.

It was game over for him.

Jisung felt ill.

“Sorry Sungie, wha-” you stopped short when you turned back towards him, noticing the way his head was now hung. His unblinking eyes stared at the ground as wetness pooled at the corners of them, causing panic to set in your bones.

“Jisung, what’s wrong?” He was picking at his thumbnail and didn’t even glance up when you spoke.

He was silent for a moment before, “I don’t want you to leave.”

His voice was quiet and sad, and it shook slightly as he responded. He knew trying to convince you to stay was useless, but now that he knew you and Seojun had taken the next step, he was desperate to grasp at straws. He needed you to stay.

You frowned at his words and sat next to him in the chair, taking his hands in yours. You rubbed your thumbs over his knuckles, urging him to stop picking at his skin.

“I know Sungie. This next year and a half is going to suck, but we’ll survive it. We always do.” You reassured him. You were completely oblivious to the reason behind Jisungs sudden change in mood, and it was making him feel worse. He hiccuped and a drop of water fell onto the back of your hand, followed by another, and you felt your heart crack.

Jisung was crying.

“Sungie, what’s wrong?” You asked him again, instinctively pulling him into a hug. His arms snaked around your waist without hesitation and he buried his face into your neck. You could feel his tears soaking your skin and you found yourself holding back a sob of your own as your hands ran slowly up and down his back.

“Please don’t leave me. Please, Bubs. I need you. I need you here with me. Please stay.” he cried. He hated groveling, hated being weak like this, but he had to find a way to stop you from leaving with a man who didn’t love you the way he did. He’d do anything.

“Ji.” you whispered as you pulled back to look at him, brushing stray hairs out of his eyes as you wiped at his tears. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Jisung shook his head and let out another choked sob before he swallowed and did the last thing you ever expected him to do. He quickly brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and pressed his lips against yours roughly, pouring every ounce of love and adoration he had for you into the kiss he’d been waiting years for.

His lips were warm, soft, and felt like heaven against yours, but the shock of his actions caused you to pull away from him in total confusion.

“Sungie, what the hell are you doing?” you asked, unsure how to process what had just happened. Jisungs hands stayed glued to your cheeks as he pleaded.

“Please, don’t go. Not with him.”

You froze at his words. Dread and confusion turned your stomach to mush and you felt like you were going to throw up as Jisung continued to speak.

“Seojun's an asshole. He’s not good for you. I don’t want you to go with him. None of us want you to go with him.”

You pulled your face out of Jisungs hold and leaned away from him, a look of betrayal and shock clear across your features.

“I’m sorry?” There’s no way you had heard him right. “What do you mean none of you want me to go with him?”

Jisung wiped at his face, trying to dry the tears that continued to pour out at your silent rejection.

“The only one who likes him is you, Bubs. The only reason we even tolerate him is because Jo asked us to.”

You blinked at his statement, feeling another wave of confusion wash over you, followed by irritation and then downright annoyance. Your brain was honestly still trying to process the kiss you two shared, but your mouth was five steps ahead.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“Do you love him?” Jisung abruptly asked.

“Jesus Jisung. I don’t know! We haven’t even been dating for a whole week, you idiot!”

“So you don’t love him?”

He knew he was being an idiot now, sputtering out any type of bullshit he could to try and save this. He knew it was useless, but he always told himself he wouldn’t go down without a fight, and a fight is what he got.

“What the fuck, dude?” You threw your hands up in exasperation, growling at his stupid inquiries. Jisung winced at your change in tone.

“I’m sorry Bubs. I don’t like him. He’s not good for you! You and I both know the only reason you’re with him is because he got you published.”

That was a low blow, he knew it. But the connection from his brain to his mouth had been severed and all he could do was ramble, letting his emotions take control.

“Are you-? Are you saying the only reason I was invited to go on this tour is because of him? As if I couldn’t have done any of this myself?” you spat, feeling your anger boil. Jisungs eyes widened as you misunderstood what he was trying to say.

“Jesus, Bubs, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just-” he paused and ran a hand through his hair, pulling on it roughly in frustration before letting everything out, rendering you speechless.

“I am so fucking head over heels in love with you, y/n. Can’t you see that? I’ve been in love with you since before debut. I have spent years trying to get your attention. And suddenly, this asshole shows up out of nowhere and kicks me to the curb? I should be the one going on this tour with you, travelling with you, making memories with you, not him. I should be the one beside you, holding you while you live out your biggest dreams. It’s always been you and me.”

At Jisungs sudden confession, a new wave of emotion overcame you. The anger, the annoyance, the irritation all drained from your body and you were left with nothing but tears suddenly pouring out of your eyes the same way they were pouring out of Jisungs.

You had waited for so long to hear those words come from his mouth. You had dreamed of him confessing to you and kissing you the way he had so many times, in so many different ways, so why was your heart breaking impossibly more instead of soaring the way you always imagined it would?

Why was he doing this?

Why now?

You let the tears fall down your face freely, not bothering to wipe them away while Jisung sat on the stool, staring at you with so much conviction in his big, beautiful eyes. Anger, sadness, adoration and love, regret, hurt. All of those emotions shone back at you and you felt every single one of them as if they were your own.

“Why are you bringing this up now, Sungie?” you whispered, desperately searching for reason. “When I’m less than twenty-four hours away from going on the biggest adventure of my life. Why?”

Jisung’s face softened as he reached forward and grabbed your hand. He watched you hiccup and sniffle while he rubbed his thumb over yours in an attempt to help you calm down.

“Because I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered.

If his confession didn’t throw you for a loop, this last sentence definitely did, and you found yourself jumping out of your seat, the bubble of anger suddenly returning.

“That’s bullshit Jisung! Are you fucking kidding me right now?" you spat out in disbelief. "I have known you and the guys for almost six years. I have done nothing but support you and cheer for you from the sidelines while you’ve been living out your biggest dreams on stage, becoming the superstar you always said you were born to be. I have stayed up with you for nights on end, helping you make your mark in this industry, watching you create and produce beautiful music. I have stayed behind while all ten of you guys go on tour without me and I haven’t complained once because it’s been your dream, and now that I’m about to go live out mine, you’re telling me you don’t want me to go? Do you know how fucking selfish that it?”

You began pacing around the room, searching for something to punch while simultaneously trying to resist the urge to break anything you could find. Jisung sat planted on his stool, staring at you.

“I’m sorry.” he spoke low enough that you almost didn’t hear him. You did though, and his words caused you to whirl around on him once more, your face now covered in mascara-stained tears while every emotion you were feeling brought an unruly red to your face.

“No, you’re not! If you were really sorry, Jisung, you wouldn’t have even brought this up in the first place! So why are you? Why now? If you’ve felt this way about me for as long as you’ve said, why now? Why not a month ago? Two months ago? A year ago? Three years ago? If you’ve felt this way about me since debut, why haven’t you told me?”

Jisung’s face scrunched up into an expressionless laugh as he crossed his arms and gave you a sceptical look.

“Do you honestly believe if I had told you how I felt all those years ago, you would’ve had an ounce of feelings for me in return?” Jisungs face was quizzical and sour, his voice dripping with a sudden poison as he glowered at you.

He was oh-so impossibly wrong.

It was your turn to let out a humorless laugh.

“Contrary to popular belief Jisung, yeah actually, I would’ve. I did.” you answered. In a split second, Jisungs demeanor flickered, his eyebrows softening at your words and a puzzled expression found its way to his face.

“Wait, you what?” he asked in surprise. You hesitated for a moment before spilling out your own confession to him. You two were already this deep into the fight, there was no point in holding back now.

“Jisung, I have loved you since the moment I first met you. I fell in love with you after watching you work your ass off every damn day, doing everything you possibly could do to make sure you’d survive another week on the show. The hours upon hours of dedication and hardwork you put into being the best version of yourself possible. Being the most vulnerable, unapologetically, truest version of yourself. I watched you fall and fail, and I watched you fail better. I watched you grow from this small, innocent little dickwad of a teenager to this confident and cocky grown ass man who oozes charisma and charm and happiness everywhere you go. I have loved you since day one, so don’t tell me I wouldn’t have.”

Jisungs eyes widened at your confession, his eyebrows disappearing behind the hair that hung across his forehead. He choked out a breath, shaking his head at you incredulously.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You swallowed roughly around the lump that sat idly in your throat, willing your tears to stop.

“Maybe because I had to watch you stumble back into the dorms with a different chick on your arm every Friday night for four and a half fucking years! Yes, watching the one person I loved more than anything else in this world hook up with some random bitch who didn’t know the first thing about him really instilled a lot of confidence in me.”

You saw the way Jisungs eyes fell at your use of words, and you had to force yourself to look away from his face before you changed your mind.

“Wait, loved? As in-”

“Past. Tense.” You lied, glaring at the Han Quokka plush that sat on his dresser. Another one sat directly beside it, wearing a pink shirt and a tu-tu, meant to represent you. Quokka Prince and his Quokka Princess.

“Fuck.” Jisung spat, bringing your attention back to him as he removed himself from the stool and rushed towards you. You glanced at his face and regretted it upon seeing a new wave of waterworks streaming down his puffy cheeks.

“No, no, no, no.” he begged quietly, his hands coming up to cup your face once more. “Please, Bubs, I’m so sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry. For everything.” He planted a soft kiss to your forehead and you restrained yourself some melting into the feeling. “Please, stay with me tonight, yeah? I can fix this. We can fix this. We can talk about this and figure it out. Please.”

You hated the way butterflies tore through your stomach as soon as his hands rested on your cheeks, his big brown eyes staring into yours in a way you always wanted them to. You hated the way your head tilted up towards his automatically, silently screaming at him to just kiss you again. You absolutely despised the way you trembled under his touch as the pads of his thumbs wiped at your wet cheeks.

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You would not let yourself do that to Seojun, and you sure as hell weren’t about to pass up the opportunity of a lifetime that waited for you, no matter how much he begged. You couldn’t. You weren’t going to throw away your dreams for him.

But with the way Jisung was holding you, it was nearly impossible for you to say no. Which is why you pulled your head out of his grasp once again and furrowed your brows together.

“You’re not listening to me, Jisung.” you whispered, your head now falling forward as you forced yourself to break your best friend's heart the way you always promised him you wouldn’t. “I don’t love you. Not like that. Not anymore.”

It was the biggest, filthiest lie that ever left your mouth, and for once, Jisung didn’t catch onto it. He didn’t hear the tremble that caused you to stutter over the words ‘I don’t’, and he sure as hell didn’t hear your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces as you spoke.

You stepped away from him and turned to leave. You needed to get out of this room, this house, before your emotions got the better of you and made you stay. You had an adventure waiting for you, you had fans to meet and books to sign and conventions to attend and memories to make, and you knew that if you stayed for even a minute longer, your resolve would break and you’d never leave Jisung or his room ever again.

“Where are you going?” Jisungs broken and defeated voice was small, but you stopped in your tracks as if he’d yelled.

“I’m going home to pack my suitcase and then I’m leaving for my tour. If this is still something you want to talk about when I get back, fine, but you’re not ruining this chance or this relationship for me. I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow.”

You took another step towards the door when Jisungs next words cut through you like a knife. His voice was hard, sharp and clipped.

“No, you won’t.” You knew if you turned back around, Jisungs face would be that of a total stranger. Stoic, numb, emotionless. His words forced a sob out of your throat at his abruptness, but you didn’t dare turn around

“I’m sorry y/n.” your name already sounded so foreign coming from his mouth, and it was then that you knew nothing between the two of you would ever be the same again. Chan always said the infamous Han Jisung loved hard and hated harder, and boy was he right. You could practically feel the daggers he was shooting into the back of your skull.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say goodbye and let you run off with someone who doesn’t love you the way I do. I can’t let you run off and make the biggest mistake of your life. I won’t.”

You bit your tongue and swallowed hard, forcing tears back as your blurry vision found the polaroid picture of the two of you Jisung had sticking out from his lightswitch cover.

It was a candid photo Hyunjin had taken of you guys at the beach nearly three years ago. The two of you had your hands interlocked and you were dancing and laughing along the shore of the beach, the sun setting beautifully in the background. Neither one of you even realized Hyunjin took the photo until two months later when he gave it to Jisung as a birthday present.

It was your favorite photo.

The lump in your throat grew bigger as you ripped your eyes away from the memory, knowing you’d never get that feeling of happiness with Jisung again. Not after this.

“Fine,” you sniffled one last time at his harsh and hurtful words. “I guess I’ll see you next June.”

And with that, you left.

Here we are, back at part one again!!!

Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did!

As always, feedback & interactions are always welcome and greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

Hannji Asks: what was your favorite part from Part One?

lmk in the replies or with an ask!

See you soon for Part Two!!

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

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wardenparker · 3 months

Text

At First Sight

Alan McMichael x female Reader

Rating: G for General Audiences, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Alcohol, flirting, period manners, fluff, scheming family members, undesirable dance partners. Summary: Alan's sister Eunice is finally engaged and their mother is throwing a grand ball to celebrate. It is the last place that he wants to be...until he meets a young lady who wants to be there just as little as he does. Notes: It's been so, so very long since I wrote anything solo. Please be kind -- all errors are my own, and this is definitely not beta read. It's just a little piece inspired by my downtime at work and countless rewatches of Crimson Peak. Alan deserves some happiness, so I wanted to give him a bit. If there's interest I'll try to write more for these two, but I'll understand entirely if there's not. Thank you so so very much for reading! Dedicated to @julesonrecord for her tireless patience in putting up with me babbling about this character and how he deserved better. And to @ruflirtingwithme for always letting me keep Wade in my pocket wherever I go. There's a bit of him in this as well, for sure.

Despite the tailoring of his tuxedo, the familiar weight of the costume, and the well-traveled ballroom he finds himself standing in, Alan McMichael shifts uncomfortably. He’s lost weight this past year, worry and injury taking their toll, and the tailor assured him that it could barely be seen but took his jacket and the waist of his trousers in anyway. He isn’t as fit as he once was. He isn’t as strong. Not since he followed Edith up that mountain in England, only to bring her back down again to dual hospitalizations and true exhaustion. The doctors at the sanatorium don’t allow him to visit anymore .They say it causes episodes of hysteria.

So now they must live inside their own heads separately, and his mother has taken that as meaning it is time to push him to move on. “It’s for the best.” His mother had said. But Alan couldn’t be sure. Still, he was forced to resume his everyday life, and now it has been a full year since that fateful trip to Crimson Peak.

Eunice’s engagement has been a blessing to distract Mrs. McMichael. Her ploy to whisk her daughter off to New York City in the early summer had paid odd and now Eunice is engaged to the son of some banker who claimed to have an ancestor lead the charge at the Battle of Cowpens. They were all, Mrs. McMicheals told everyone in earshot, quite proud.

Now it was Alan’s turn to once again have marriage prospects pushed on him, and he stood in the ballroom ready to receive guests alongside his father with a false smile and a belly full of dread.

* * * * * *

“I thought you didn’t like Mrs. McMichaels?” The question hands in the air as you finish getting ready for the ball this evening. Spending the Christmas holiday in Buffalo with your aunt and uncle had been your brother’s idea – trying to see that you were taken care of without directly saying that having you in his house would be a burden. So you had reluctantly agreed, giving most of your staff the better part of three weeks off and taking only your maid with you to Buffalo.

It’s not that I dislike her entirely, dear heart,” your aunt Joan insists. “I adore her soirees.”

“How foolish of me.” It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes but your maid recognizes the expression and smiles privately. “I ought to have known. You and Uncle Christian will want to stay until daybreak, won’t you?”

“Certainly.” Aunt Joan quips, appraising herself in her vanity mirror. “Her cook makes the most divine fruit crepes.”

You could point out that her usual overt piety discourages desire and gluttony, but at near seventy years of age, your great-aunt has earned a little indulgence from life. Instead you hum a non-committal agreement and pick up your gloves., “Then it will be well worth staying until breakfast,” you encourage, offering her a smile instead.

“Indeed.” She seems most pleased at the prospect and shoes your maids away with finality. “Your dance card must be full tonight, child,” she warns with an alarming hint of mischief in her voice. “If we want you engaged before the worst of winter snows threaten to keep us all at home.”

* * * * * *

The McMichael’s ballroom shimmers with candlelight and each guest who is announced at the door is another jewel in the crown of the evening. Mrs. McMichaels flits about like a bird with a rare and precious seed, showing it off to everyone around her, and the guests who have eagerly arrived first bask in the shared glow of witnessing such good fortune. Fortunately, very certainly it is a fortunate thing, your Aunt Joan and Uncle Christian do not believe in arriving early to parties. They believe in leaving their home at the time the party is listed as beginning in order to appear both desirably busy and aloof, which means that your trio is squarely in the second half of arrivals to the McMichael house this evening. Even if it is only by a measure of twenty or thirty minutes, the less time you must spend with eligible men being foisted upon you, the better.

“Mr. and Mrs. Christian Tate,” are announced along with your name, and Aunt Joan practically shoves your out in front of them to make sure you’re seen. Not that anyone would have noticed you otherwise, so perhaps it’s wise. The peacock colored gown you chose shimmers softly in the gaslight, but the ballrooms of Buffalo do not have the large, expansive windows and glass doors that you are accustomed to in Newport. It is all mahogany and walnut paneling here, and all the ladies but you – in their pinks and creams and honey yellows – knew better. You will be lost in wainscotted corners in your deep blue, green, and purple hues. Though perhaps it is for the best. This is not your society anyway. You have no intention of ending your time in Buffalo engaged no matter what Aunt Joan might intend.

The two gentlemen at the center of the ballroom could not be anymore obviously father and son, but where the father jokes and jovially signs dance cards at praise of his skills in the country dances, the son seems dour and aloof. His pinched smile does not precisely forbid conversation but it certainly does not encourage it, and he all but sighs in resignation when your Uncle Christian seems happy to see him.

“My wife’s great-niece,” you hear him saying, just before you are shuttled forward again. “Visiting from Newport for the holidays.”

“A pleasure,” the man intones, though you cannot think he means it.

“Is it?” You offer your hand only because your aunt clears her throat so pointedly. But it is at this point that the skyscraper with blonde hair you are being introduced to chuckles. The sound is broken but warm, and you are not so displeased with being here that you miss the way his blue eyes sparkle like aquamarine in the flickering light.

“Perhaps,” he muses, catching the dance card dangling from your wrist before you can take your hand back. “Perhaps you are the first young lady to arrive tonight not to simper and curtsy over the supposed honor of being my mother’s guest. And perhaps I can recognize a fellow soul was was strong-armed into attending.” He looks tired, the heaviness of it hanging deep in his handsome features. Because yes, he is handsome. Intriguingly and admirably so. But that isn’t what is drawing you in to him like a rope tied into your ribcage that tugs you forward whenever he speaks. It’s something else. “Perhaps we will be allies tonight, you and I.”

“Allies?” You watch his hand as he claims both waltzes on your dance card, the first gentleman to do so and claiming what are arguably the most intimate of dances. “How terribly Napoleonic of you,” you droll in response.

He laughs again, a little more deeply, and shrugs his shoulders. “I would avoid the elder Mr. Davies if I were you,” he advises, clearly demonstrating his intent as that very ally he has claimed to be. “His wife passed last spring leaving him with three young children. He has become so desperate for a wife that he is inclined to propose to almost any new young lady he meets.”

“How very concerning for the young ladies.” You murmur back, glancing over at the man being subtly pointed out to you. He is squirrelish and balding, all the hair on his head seeming to have fallen to the bushy mustache adorning his upper lip. “Is there anyone else I ought to be wary of?”

“Oh, a dozen at least.” The mischief returns to this man-shaped mountain’s eyes and he offers you his arm. “It is well worth discussing. Perhaps over punch?”

“Mr. McMichael, I think you are using me as an excuse to abandon the receiving line.” You hum in amusement, not really able to say you blame him for such a thing. Or that you mind.

“Perhaps.” His grin has a shade of mischief and guilt to it. “But perhaps you are using me to avoid the attention of other guests who might bore, annoy, or otherwise rankle you, or even step on your shoes. Which I’m sure are quite beautiful and not to be defiled. This arrangement seems better for us both, don’t you think? I can promise you with surety that it has been more than a decade since I trod on a lady’s slipper at a ball.”

“I had intended to feign lightheadedness from the crowded ballroom halfway through the night,” you confess with a sly expression all your own. “Perhaps I still will. Or perhaps this mischief will prove diversion enough all on its own.”

* * * * * *

There have been many dances in your life that have made you terribly glad for the barrier of gloves between you and the man leading. Whether it was their manners that were unsuitable, the sweat of their palms, or some unsavory odor lingering around them like a drought-stricken pond, there seemed always to be some partners with whom dancing was as undesirable as an overturned stagecoach.

Tonight you fear it might be you.

Dr. McMichael — Alan, he has insisted that you call him Alan — is a divine dancer. The grandeur of his stature does nothing to inhibit his grace and as he twirls you both about the ballroom you have the oddest sensation of floating that has ever been. But as if grace and poise were not enough, the man has a damning and wicked sense of humour as well. It has taken only the smallest encouragement from you to earn you scathing reviews of the other partygoers from you. The descriptions have you nearly in hysterics in his arms, but worse yet is the way that he smiles. It is a sly and puckish expression that makes his eyes light and sparkle in the candlelight, and every time he aims it at you, you can feel yourself sweat in the most unbecoming and unladylike way.

Moist palms or a damp dress back do not make for a desirable partner, and all you can do is hope desperately that your gloves and corset are providing ample barrier so that he has no idea how deeply those smiles and jokes and bright eyes are affecting you.

“I must sound deeply cynical,” he comments after a pause. He has just told you the story of the two Misses Shrewsbury and their positively ghastly attempt at conning the attendants of a seance he attended in Albany some years ago. “I am not. Or at least I do not mean to be.”

“Is it society that you disapprove of? Or faith?” Neither question is a judgment on your part, but you tilt your head to him conspiratorially as you dance. “I have found myself weary of both in the past, that is why I ask.”

“It is neither,” Alan admits, though he does so with a wistful sigh. “I think perhaps I yearn for times past when I reveled in dancing and philosophical pursuits. When the contents of conversation at a dinner party provided fascination for days afterward.” Subtly, so that you can feel it but it is not seen to the plain-eyes observer, he shrugs. “Life soldiers on, I suppose.”

“It does.” You cannot dispute that, and you would not try. You know the trudging on of time as well as any other touched by tragedy. “May I ask what changed? Or is that impertinent?”

“It is not impertinent.” He casts his eye around the room then back down at you. “But I am afraid it is not polite, either. I would not shock you so, to tell it all. I will only say that I lost my dear friend very recently.”

“Then I am very sorry to hear it, but I have every belief in your humanity. Your taste for society, your faith, and your fascinations will return.” The look on his face says he wonders how you can be so sure, and you half-smile. The hint of sadness in your eyes keeps it from becoming full. “Take the word of an orphan of two beloved parents, Dr. McMichael. You will come back to life again after the loss of your friend. It may simply take time.”

“Alan,” he presses softly, reminding you of his insistence. “And I am sorry to hear of your sadness, as well. But it seems that perhaps God or the ghosts of our past have seen fit to introduce us tonight. Whichever it is that you believe in.”

“Whichever it is, I welcome their intervention.” It seems to you at this point that he does not care much for spiritualism or ghosts of any kind, so you will not speak your mind on that topic. As for God? His guidance has not been the one you sought in many years. No, tonight you will not give credence to any of it, if only to keep the mood light and perhaps make Alan laugh again. “I think, however, that I shall ascribe it entirely to my great-uncle. As he was the one to see us introduced.”

“So he was.” As the song ends, Alan bows quite deeply in deference to his admirable partner. “I believe I shall have to thank him for it.”

* * * * * *

“Why don’t I know the girl your son has been doting on all night?” Mrs. McMichael is behind her fan to her husband from the edge of the dance floor, inspecting the dancing and overseeing the needs of all her guests. Her guests. Which is why she is so perturbed not to be able to identify this young woman immediately. “Who is her family? She must be with one of your business associates, yes?”

“Let Alan flirt.” Edwin McMichael waves one hand dismissively, not even looking in his only son’s direction. “It’s good for him. He’s been too dour for too long.”

“I don’t care if he flirts.” Ellen ruffles, her lips pursed and ready for an argument. “So long as he flirts with the correct young ladies.”

“How do you know she is not correct?”

“Because I do not know who she is or who she came with.”

“She is Christian Tate’s great-niece.”

Ellen’s nose wrinkles. “The orphan?”

“The orphan with an eight million dollar inheritance and a palatial cottage in Newport in her name.” Mr. McMichael raises one eyebrow as he peers down at his wife, knowing precisely the sort of affect this news will have on his wife. After all, she married him for his fortune — why should Alan not marry a fortune as well? “Let Alan flirt. It makes him smile.”

* * *

He finds you again later, outside of the ballroom when you’ve wandered away to breath air that hasn’t come from the mouths of five other people first and doesn’t smell distinctly of stale cigars and brandy. He finds you when you are slumped, unladylike, in the window seat of his father’s library gazing out the window at the snow as it drifts lazily down from the pitch-black sky.

“I thought you’d run away on me.” His voice is light but the undercurrent of worry, or else embedded sadness, is there if you listen. Like a weariness that had taken hold in him sometime since the loss of his friend that he had not been able to shake. Rather than apologizing for it or paying it any mind, Alan simply holds out one of the delicate cups of mulled wine that he brought with him when he went in search of you. “I’m very glad to see that isn’t the case.”

“I had to make myself scarce from the quadrille,” you admit, having the good sense to look at least a little sheepish about it. “That Mr. Davies…the one you warned me about? He caught sight of the fact that I had been left out of the dance before and attached himself to me.” Though the conversation could not be considered so terrible to be characterized as harrowing or torturous or anything as dramatic as all that, you still had not enjoyed his overbearing presence and unfortunate lack of manners. “I’m afraid that I feigned a headache to excuse myself.”

He laughs. Truly and thoroughly, and from his belly. Alan McMichael laughs so entirely that you bury your face in one hand after you accept the offered drink from his hand and you sigh audibly. “I’m sorry…” he chuckles, gasping for a dramatic sigh when he can catch his breath. “ It’s just that you’re so terribly apologetic and sweet about it. No one would be cross with you for avoiding an impertinent man old enough to be your father.”

“I see you have not met my Aunt Joan.” With a dutiful but resigned sigh, you stand from your place of respite and sip the rather delicious drink that he has brought you. At precisely 4:02 in the morning it is both horrifyingly too late for such a drink and far too terribly early – a dichotomy that delights you. “She has done her best to see me partnered with every single man here tonight. It is only my ill luck that I encountered the only desirable partner so early in the night. To dance together a third time would expose us both to comment.”

“So?” Alan sips his own wine and gazes down at you curiously, wondering whether or not you actually give a damn about all of this convention and these rules that seem to have been mutually agreed upon by the same people who determined what food is served at each course at formal suppers. That is – someone very long ago and far away that no one can remember any longer. “I’d like to dance with you again. And you just said that you’d like to dance with me. So who gives a damn if someone talks about it?”

“Won’t your mother be cross with you?” He had said something earlier about his mother wanting him to dance with just every young lady at the ball tonight. And you know for certain that he has not just as you have not danced with every single man.

“My mother is routinely cross with me.” He admits, enjoying a laugh at the truth of it. “I try not to let it disappointment me too much.”

It is all you can do to consider him – broad shoulders stretching that jacket of his and bright eyes sparkling with mischief, the tilt of his smile and the invitation of his outstretched hand – before you are sighing in a rather dramatic show of resignation that barely shields the actual delight written on your face. “Very well,” you acquiesce, taking his hand and giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Let us be the object of idle gossip tomorrow. Let tongues wag. I will be gone in a week anyhow and that will be the end of it. For tonight, at least, we shall have a bit of fun.”

______

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fanfic-obsessed · 2 years

Text

Time for the Clones to love Obi Wan

I was thinking…and maybe one of the SW series (Not this Crude Matter by thebitterbeast, it’s fantastic. You should read it) that I am reading is in the middle of the hurt but we haven’t hit the comfort, so I want something to soothe that. Now I shall inflict the results of that upon all of you. Be aware that some of these tropes don’t usually go together but I think if you walk with me you’ll see where it all connects.

We start with a tried and true, the clones are sent back to their younger selves at death. They arrive something like five years before the clone wars are to start and man are they all deeply traumatized. Using all the collective knowledge they have (Rex was the last standing and he died of old age, living long enough to see Ben Solo’s birth after they fixed the accelerated aging. He was physically 110 when he died and living off of spite) they quickly take control of Kamino, dechip themselves, move the entire operation to an uninhabited world in the outer rim (Look there are a lot of inhabitable worlds and only so many sentients in the galaxy). They make it abundantly clear they consider Boba their brother (though he did not have his older self’s memories) and that Jango was allowed to come with them as Boba’s father but the rest of the clones consider him both Dar’buir and Dar’manda, as well as just shy of Demagolka. He may have just watched 1 millions young adults, teens, and children wearing his face efficiently take over a planet, kill all but a handful of the trainers, and within days have a new planet to make their home out of. It has reawakened his Mandalorian adoption genes (and several other parts of his personality he would have sworn had been killed by slavery and Spice years ago) and he rather desperately wants to prove that they can call him Buir.

The thing about having come back from years and decades into the future, they know where all the bodies are buried. The former Coruscant guard, particularly, knows where to find proof of all of Sidious's dealings, even five years prior to any of them meeting him. This is a highly trained, highly efficient army. Within a tenday they have released proof of Palptine’s misdeed onto the Holonet. Before the fallout could fully affect the Sith, Palpatine is shot and killed with three slugs from a slug thrower sniper rifle; the perpetrators are never caught. The Vod’e are careful never to confirm exactly where Fox, or any of the Coruscant Guard were in the time before or after the assination that it would have taken to get to Coruscant or back (They did not actually do the deed, it was an assassination attempt that Palpatine had easily dodged in the first timeline, he was just a little too distracted by his business being aired in this one).

The initial plan of the Vod’e was to get settled and eventually approach the Jedi. Their Jedi. They didn’t know how to convince the Jedi to trust them (whether the Jedi remembered or not) but they intended that eventually the Jedi would not go on missions alone any longer.

That was the Plan

This is where the second trope comes into play. Groups of Senators, desperate for anything to distract from the fact that the Chancellor they backed turned out to be planning Genocide (It could be argued that being Sith was not actually illegal, and every single one of them did). They found a set of Blue laws that, combined with the fact that the Fett Clones (as they were generally being called) were on paper ordered by a Master of the Jedi Order, meant that the Senate could marry (really it was assign as a hostage but it was worded as marry) a member of the Jedi Order to a member of a group they had wronged for the sake of an alliance.

FUN FACT: A Blue Law is a US State law on the books that is no longer enforced, mostly forgotten, and sounds a little ridiculous. I also personally believe that it remains on the books because in order to have it removed, someone has to stand in front of a state legislative body and actually say the law. Two examples come to mind: In Alaska it is illegal to push a moose out of an airplane and in Massachusetts a parent can call the police to have their children arrested for being unruly.

Now back to the regularly scheduled Madness

Now the Senate does not want to send someone too important to the Fett Clones. In fact if they could choose someone that would be a subtle insult, all the better. They choose a youngish knight, who had only been a knight less than a decade, with a Padawan. They choose a knight that, on paper, is not that impressive. Reports from his younger years indicate he was a decent, if slightly aggressive, initiate. Nearly not chosen. Mission reports during his padawanship were sparsely written and mentioned him little. Having taken a padawan younger than average, he was temple bound more often than most during their first years of knighthood.

The Senate chose Obi Wan Kenobi as a spouse. While he was somewhat famous within the order already (for the fight with Maul, his rocky apprenticeship, and taking Anakin on before he was even officially knighted) outside of the Order he was a random Jedi, remembered fondly by those who met him personally but not well known by the galaxy at large.

Had this happened with any other group, the insult would have landed as intended. However this was the Vod’e. The Vod’e remembered General Obi Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator. And while almost every Vod’e would claim that their Jedi was the best Jedi, the best General, the best Jedi General, and the best sentient in general, everyone could agree that Kenobi was amazing (the 501st would like it understood that they have a…complicated relationship with the memories of their general. On the one hand he led the march on the temple, on the other, even as Vader he tended to treat them better than he did Nat borns. Not well by any measure, plenty of brothers died at Vader’s hands but it did always seem as if he was just a hair less likely to throw a tantrum that would hurt them then he was to do the same to the nat born officers). To a man every member of the Vod’e is ecstatic that they are sending The Obi Wan Kenobi to them.

When they had been first told that they were being given a Jedi to marry they kind of shrugged at each other, in spite of the efforts of the best efforts of the Jedi and the previous timeline, most of the Voe had no real concept of how Nat borns operate, and even the little bit they did know seemed to be contradictory. They figured they would adjust who of the Vod’e would be the ‘spouse’ based on the Jedi sent (Since everyone knew that Bly would kill the person who wasn’t him who got to marry Aayla), so upon being informed that Obi Wan Kenobi would arriving within a tenday they restructured the government so that Cody could take up duties as Obi wan’s spouse (They envisioned the marriage being Cody mostly following Obi Wan on Jedi missions, so he had to be able to be off planet for long stretches of time) and Cody is practically vibrating with excitement (in between rushes of nauseating anxiety and crippling guilt) at being able to woo his Jedi.

So we now have three very disparate groups with three very different ideas about what was happening.

The senate knew next to nothing about the Fett Clones, save that they are clones of Jango Fett so likely would have a grudge against the Jedi (Obi Wan the sacrifice/hostage). They do not know, or (for most of the senate) particularly care what the Clones do with their Jedi Hostage. Internally it is known that the chosen Spouse cannot be killed within the first six months of the marriage, but makes no other caveat for treatment.

We have the Jedi, who also know next to nothing about the Clones. They actually know little more than the Senate, and anticipate that the Clones might be unhappy about Master Sifo-Dyas actions (the Clones decidedly are not). They believe that violence will be done on Obi wan’s person, and they do care. But, like in the clone wars before them, none of the Jedi believe that they are able to do anything about it. With a heavy heart, they decide to treat this as a suicide mission, in that when Obi Wan leaves he likely will never be heard from again. The entire council vows to take on the tuition of Anakin Skywalker, now fourteen. They are able to make it clear to young Anakin that there is no choice, that not a single one of the Jedi have a choice in this matter.

The sheer raw emotions that Anakin could feel, exacerbated by the fact that no one, from Yoda on down, had ever realized that the Senate could do this, helped tie him closer to the Jedi. They were not unfeeling, but they still stood, mourning his master before his death. He was still young enough to remember the helplessness not being able to help other slaves and thinks that this feeling is very familiar.

And we have the clones, who do not know that they have just been gifted a Jedi that the other players expect to be dead with a rotation. They are so…so happy to see Obi Wan. How each member of the former 212th had been racking their brains for days for every detail of Their general’s likes and dislikes (there are a string of missions to make sure there is a good stock of the best tea they could find). That there had been a day-long tournament on who got the honor of going to the Core to collect their Jedi (Cody cannot because they are still shifting duties so that when his husband took missions again he could go with him).

When Obi Wan boarded the cruiser that would take him to his new husband, he expected crackling, icy anger. He expected the brittleness in the Force that had always meant hatred to him. Instead he was buffeted by fondness and glee. By a strange twist of relief. The cruiser was small enough that he was traveling with a total of 10 people. Each of those 10, at some point in the short trip, would stop and the Force around them would become distress. They would stare into the middle distance for several moments, then, upon coming back to themselves, would seek Obi Wan out and ask for a hug.

Even arriving on the still unnamed planet, Obi Wan is greeted by people who are ecstatic for him to be there. It is unnerving, to expect hostility and receive hugs and joy (Well, Jango does radiate hostility into the Force, but he is well aware he is on thin ice. And he may not know why but his Ad, no he is not allowed to call them that out loud, clearly loves the Jetti). His husband (there was no ceremony, just paperwork signed by the Vod’e and the Republic) stands a respectful distance away and keeps making aborted motions like he also wants to hug him. They have stocked his favorite teas and ask questions about his padawan and various other Jedi and seem almost desperate for the answers. They even give him a comm unit for his room, which he does not have to share with his husband, they say to contact his family in the Core (He never uses it, he can’t possibly trust it). The closest thing to violence that happens is when the Medics tell him if he doesn’t give a reasonable amount of sleep they will sedate him. This is so much better than he thought.

For the Clones part they can tell he is low key freaking out. Which in turn is freaking them out. They go round and round, what if he remembers what they did? But he doesn’t give any indication that he did, that those memories exist. Well, what if he only subconsciously remembers. The last time some of them saw him, they were shooting him off a cliff. Cody, in particular, is full to the brim with Anxiety. He desperately wants to hold Obi Wan, to ground himself in the Jedi’s heartbeat and try to forget a dusty world and the words ‘Blast him’ and all the horror that came after.

Four months pass, as Obi Wan slowly relaxes and accepts that at the very least the clones do not want to hurt him, personally. He can’t quite believe that they have no designs on the Order as a whole and is still fairly awkward around all of them. This is compounded by the fact that they seemed to know his preferences better than he does (leading him to believe that the entirety of the Vode are obsessed with him and obsession turns to darkness so easily). It all comes to a head when Jango picks a fight that reveals that the entire Jedi Order thought that they were being forced to send Obi Wan to die at the hands of the Vode. That all of Obi Wan’s awkwardness is based on this fear (and the fear that they were going to use anything he said to hurt other Jedi) as well as the fact that he had no choice in the matter, he has no memories of the previous timeline.

There is a very long moment where every Vod’e in the room just stares at Obi Wan, before a collective panic attack the likes of which this universe has never seen spills into the Force. It goes on for 45 seconds before Fox manages to get everyone into at least some semblance of calm (Both Jango and Obi Wan are watching all of this, wide eyed. They are temporarily on the same page in the land of What the Fuck). Fox manages to clarify that 1)no the Vod’e do not hold any grudge against the Jedi, they were made for the Jedi and had in fact rebelled to protect the Jedi 2) Obi Wan was in no danger here and they would not keep him here if he wanted to leave, 3) what they (the Vod’e) thought was happening when they were ‘given’ a Jedi (They had thought that this a somewhat normal occurrence of a trope called ‘marriage of convenience’ where the only thing that was going different was that Cody could legally insist on going on missions with Obi Wan) and 4) inquired if this was why they were having a hard time getting in contact with the rest of the Jedi (Yes. Yes it was.). Fox also asked, on behalf of the rest of the clones, exactly which senators voted to send Obi Wan to them (The moment their panic faded, the 212th was going to be on their way to Coruscant and he wanted to have a list of targets ready).

Obi Wan told Fox that he didn’t know who voted for what, but offered to contact the Jedi right then. He did, on the main communications relay with more than half the Vode leadership looking on. Using his own personal codes saw the call connecting immediately, with several members of the High Council visibly bracing themselves for whoever was on the other end(No one could be sure what condition Obi Wan would be in, if he was even the person using those codes). Obi Wan explains the months long misunderstanding (He had not clarified, as he did not want to rock the boat and remind the Vode of the torture option if they had ever planned to go that way. The Vod’e could tell Obi Wan was freaking out and they were trying to be considerate). There was much rejoicing as it became clear that Obi Wan was being treated well. It is decided that several members of the council (Yoda, Mace Windu, Yaddle, Plo Koon, and Shaak Ti), Anakin Skywalker, Quinlan Vos, and Eerin Bant would come to the still unnamed planet to clear up any further misunderstanding (Also the Vod’e had been building a temple for the Jedi as a surprise and wanted to show it off).

In the meantime, with the revelation that they were not going to hurt his family, Obi Wan fully relaxed around the Vode. It became obvious once he was paying attention (and not splitting his focus by trying to keep himself aloof from people who were so happy he was there) that his husband was trying to Woo him, and also date him. He found himself not opposed (the potential for love was there, but from his perspective he had effectively been sold to Cody and had spent four months half convinced that any information that he gave would be used against the Jedi). He found that he was particularly fond of the way Cody blushed when Obi Wan flirted with intent (as opposed to the absent minded flirting when he wanted a potential enemy to be off balance. Obi Wan had no idea how Cody was able to tell the difference, but he could). Throughout Vod’e of all ages would seek Obi Wan out and request a hug, though always respectfully (generally the 212th, and mostly after they had nightmares of the previous timeline).

While this turned out more serious than I had actually intended, I just want you to go out and imagine teenage clones, freaked out because they had a nightmare about Utapau seeking a bemused Obi Wan for a hug, because he is alive.

#star wars #star wars au #star wars the clone wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #codywan #order 66 #fix it #fanfic #time travel

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lxstfathier · 8 months

Text

Midnight Sky

Master! Luke Skywalker x Padawan! Reader

Summary: noticing a sudden change in your behavior, master Luke decides to have a private talk with you at night. But it turns out way different than expected.

Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, mutual masturbation, age-gap, slight angst, Kylo being a bully.

A/N: this is not canon, i just wanted to have fun without worrying about timelines and all that. Luke is supposed to be in his late 40s and the reader in her early 20s, but you’re free to choose any age you want. Hope you all enjoy this!! 💗✨

Jedi training is hard. Specially when you’re a padawan under the wing of the one and only Luke Skywalker.

All of his students are expected to be perfect in every single aspect; from the impeccable robes, polished boots, well groomed hair, and clean lightsaber hilt, to the excellent behavior, calm and elegant in any situation, never faltering with fear or anger.

Everyone is just like that. Except you.

Ben Solo likes to mock you almost every single day for that reason, laughing at your shyness and weak combat skills. And you try you best to find a justification for it. Maybe it is because him, and all the other students, come from powerful families with a strong jedi bloodline, and you’re just a random girl from a far away planet who happened to be born force-sensitive for some weird reason.

Or maybe it’s because you’re not meant to be a jedi. Who knows, whatever it is, you can’t help but feel a little bit upset seeing all your classmates improving while you’ve been stuck in the same place for weeks.

That’s how you ended up here, sitting under a tree at lunch time like you always do, sharing a meal with Grogu, away from all the other loud teenagers around the bonfire who can’t stop laughing at their own stupid jokes. And if it wasn’t for the little green kid, you would feel completely alone.

But you’re really wrong if you think that Grogu is the only one who cares about you.

Master Luke has been watching you for a while, sensing your negative emotions and troubled thoughts, growing worried with that sudden change in your demeanor, thinking about what would be the best form to approach and help a young girl like you.

“Patu?” Grogu says, offering you the last roasted frog, pulling you away from the deepest corner of your mind.

“For me? oh, thank you so much Din Grogu, i appreciate it” you say with a smile, taking the little frog snack that is supposed to be only for him, but you put it in you mouth anyway, savoring the weird taste and crispy texture.

And you’re too into it that you don’t even notice Luke walking in your direction until a pair of black boots appears in your peripheral vision, scaring you slightly, feeling you heart beat faster as you lift up your gaze to look at your cloaked master.

Are you in trouble? you don’t think so, but before you can ask something he speaks first.

“I want you to meet me at midnight, by the pond. It’s not necessary to wear you robes or bring your lightsaber, i just want talk. Understood?”

Oh hell, you’re definitely in some trouble now.

“Yes, master” you answer, trying to stay calm as your mind overthinks all the possible scenarios. And after hearing those affirmative words, he turns around to go back with the rest, leaving you there with teary eyes.

You know that you’re not his best student, so you’re probably getting expelled from his Jedi Academy. Everything is ruined and your effort has been in vain. But you don’t want to upset Grogu and cry in front of him, so you do your best to hold your tears and fake a smile, letting him eat the rest of the food while you just sip on your drink.

After that, the evening goes fast, doing your usual routine of meditating alone, read on your holo-pad, take a quick shower and brush your teeth. Still with the horrible anxiety sensation in your chest.

When midnight finally comes, you just put on an oversized shirt and small shorts, adequate for the warm weather. Why would you care about wearing something nice if you’re getting kicked out anyway?.

So you get out of your room, walking under the moonlight, admiring all the pretty luminous insects flying above the grass as a way to distract yourself from your own nervousness.

Once you get to the pond, master Luke is already there, sitting on a fallen log. And you feel even more anxious than before, but you need to stay calm under any circumstance, remember?, so you take a deep breath, reuniting the courage to walk up to him.

“Take a seat, young padawan” he says, motioning for you to sit on the ground in front of him for a quick conversation.

You follow his orders, getting comfortable on the soft grass, playing nervously with your own sweaty hands until he finally decides to speak again.

“Do you know why i told you to come here?”

“To expel me out of the jedi academy? maybe?” You answer in a low voice, accepting your fate.

But he just smirks. Something he doesn’t do often.

“Why would i do such thing? you’re the best student here.”

For a moment you can’t believe what you just heard. He called you his best student. And you don’t know how you’re supposed to feel, your emotions are mixed, you’re happy but extremely doubtful at the same time.

Maybe he’s saying it out of pure pity. There’s no way that you’re the best when all the others have an excellent conduct and fierce combat skills that could put yours to shame.

“I don’t think so” you say, shaking your head. “I’m behind everyone else here. They all see me as an easy target, and Ben likes to remind me everyday that i’m too weak and fearful to deserve being trained by his uncle.”

Suddenly, that friendly smirk on his face disappears and a stern expression takes its place, noticing the way he clenches his jaw, along with a tightening of his gloved fist, clearly unpleased with the way his nephew has been treating you.

“Don’t listen to those teens. They’re still kids, they talk hurtful nonsense just for fun” Luke says, with his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward to make eye contact. “And they also have a lot to learn from me. All of them are reckless and aggressive most of the time, thinking that their worth is only found in how many combats they win. But not you. You’re different. You’re quiet and mindful, and that’s what makes you a great jedi. So please, don’t believe their words.”

Out of everything you thought he would tell you tonight, this definitely wasn’t it. And before you know it, a warm tear is rolling down your cheek.

You don’t know what to tell him. Perhaps you don’t need even need to, cause soon you feel him getting closer, with a big hand cradling your face as his thumb wipes the wet trail.

It’s weird. But you like it, you crave more, getting lost in his gentle touch and beautiful facial features illuminated by the pale moonlight, awakening some sort of new emotions in the depths of your soul.

“I want you to have this” he speaks again, this time offering you a rose gold lightsaber. “It belonged to my sister, princess Leia Organa.”

You’re hesitant about it, but you take it in your hands just to feel its heavy weight, cold in contrast with your skin, admiring the beautiful shiny hilt. All while wondering why would he want you to have such an important piece from his family.

One thing for sure is that, if everyone sees you using Leia’s lightsaber instead of your own, it’s going to cause jealousy, specially in Ben.

“Thanks, master. But i can’t accept it” you give it back to him, finally feeling brave enough to tell him what’s been going around your mind for days. “Actually, i think i would like to take a break from my jedi training, at least for a few months.”

Luke never thought he would hear those word come out of your pretty lips, even less after seeing you so worried thinking about getting expelled. But he understands you, better than anyone. His training can get quite demanding sometimes, and if you need some time to recover from it, he will give it to you without a second thought.

“As you wish, young padawan” he answers, with a kind smile to make it clear that he’s not mad at your decision. “You’re free to go away and come back whenever you feel ready again.”

No. You don’t want to go to any other place, you want to stay here, in a beautiful planet, with Grogu… and him.

“I never said that i wanted to go away” you whisper, looking directly at the ocean of his eyes. “I want to stay here with you.”

Maybe it’s the heat of the moment. Maybe it’s all those years of pent up yearning. But you act by instinct, closing the gap between the two of you, pressing your soft lips against his.

It feels great. You could swear there are real buzzzers inside your stomach. However, you regret it immediately, thinking that he might reject your romantic advances, not wanting to get involved with one of his students who is way younger than him.

To your surprise, that doesn’t happen, and before you can push away, he puts a hand on the nape of your neck to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

You tongues dance in sync, tasting each other, feeling that burning desire grow stronger with each movement of your mouths.

It scalates pretty quickly, leading to something more. So you climb into his lap, straddling his hips, immediately feeling a pair of big hands caressing your bare thighs in such a delicate way.

You move your lips to his jaw, and then his neck, biting slightly as you start moving your hips back and forth, humping his clothed bulge, desperate for some friction.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy” Luke tells you, in a low husky voice that you had never heard him use before, playing with the hem of your shirt as if asking for consent to take it off.

So you allow him to read your thoughts, letting him know that it’s ok, that you want this as much as he does and that you can’t wait to get your body claimed as his.

Giving in to your most passionate wishes, he helps you take off your shirt, letting his hands roam every curve of your waist and back until he finally finds the clips of your bra, unclasping it effortlessly, admiring the way your gorgeous breasts are set free in front of his eyes.

You throw the clothes to the ground, and he doesn’t waste a single second, squeezing your soft tits, slightly pinching your nipples, sending waves of pleasurable pain straight to your core.

As he has his fun, you work on his black pants, unbuttoning and pulling down the zipper, just enough to take out his cock, realizing that it’s a little bit bigger than you thought.

He’s fully hard, hot and heavy at touch, already dripping beads of pre cum, twitching notoriously when you run a finger over his prominent veins and sensitive pink tip.

You wrap a hand around his thick cock, pumping it slowly, and then you feel it, his warm mouth licking and sucking one of your nipples, making you gasp at the delicious sensation.

“Master, please” you whine, unable to resist more teasing.

“Please what, pretty girl?” Luke asks as he moves a hand between your legs, pushing your shorts to the side to explore your wet folds with two of his fingers. “Use your words.”

“I need you to fuck me already, please. I’ll be good, i promise. ”

You have no idea how he’s still calm and collected while being jacked off, and you’re there, being a total mess as his fingers barely stimulate your sensitive clit.

But he enjoys it nonetheless, smiling at the way you’re shivering at his touch, begging for more.

“Who am i to deny you, hm? go ahead and take what you want” he says, stopping his ministrations on you before leaning back, licking his own fingers to have a taste of your sweet juices.

You get off his lap, hurriedly getting rid of your shorts, and then straddle him again, this time guiding his cock to your entrance, slowly sinking down on it, whining as he splits you open so nicely.

Luke grunts when he feels you too, so tight and warm around him, squeezing your soft ass with his hands as a distraction to not cum in that exact moment.

“You’re too big, master” you say shyly, holding on to his broad shoulders. “I don’t think i can take it all.”

“Yes, i know you can” he answers, gripping your hips to push you down, sinking deeper into your cunt until he’s fully sheathed inside.

You could swear he’s all the way up to your guts, but you tough it out, fulfilling your promise of being good for him. And once you get somewhat adjusted to it, you start moving your hips at a steady pace.

Your mouths find each other again, kissing sloppily as you ride him, with his hands on your waist and yours tugging at his now disheveled greyish hair.

A minute later, you’re bouncing on his cock, just like one of those pornstars that you used to watch on the holo-net, letting out obscene moans when you feel him hit that soft spot inside you over and over.

The squelching noises are also pretty loud, your arousal being enough to take him easily, causing a creamy ring to appear on the base of his cock, slowly dripping down his balls.

It feels too good. Both of you are already close to your orgasms, drunk on each other, chasing your own releases, getting messy, rough, and absolutely nasty.

“Cum for me, love, come on” Luke says with a raggedy voice, using his gloved thumb to rub your clit, bucking his hips to fuck you harder.

The way he’s ramming into you, stretching out your tight hole, and his fast movements on your bundle of nerves are enough to make you come undone.

Without a warning you clench hard around him, moaning his name as you squirm and dig your nails on his black clothes, almost euphoric on the immense pleasure he just gave you.

Luke follows right after, releasing with a deep grunt, twitching hard inside your tight heat while he spills his seed as deep as he can, stuffing you full of hot sticky cum, not caring about the consequences.

After that, you go limp on his arms, riding the last waves of bliss, with your cunt still spasming around his softening cock, just hiding your blushed face on the crook of his neck while hearing his heavy breathing.

What you just did was out of the Jedi code, but neither of you regret it, specially not him, who had been dreaming for a moment like this since the first time he saw you on your home planet, so beautiful, young and innocent.

“Luke? am i really your favorite student?” you ask him in a low voice, exhausted and already sleepy.

“Yes. And my favorite girl too” He answers kindly, running a hand along your bare back.

Those words are enough to make a stupid smile appear on your lips, happy to hear him say what you’ve been longing for years, finally closing your eyes as you rest your head on his shoulder and your fingers trace at his black robes, not taking much to fall asleep like that, with your bodies still connected.

And even though you’re on a planet with a hot weather, it gets a little chilly at night, so Luke wraps his cloak around your exposed body.

He swore to protect you forever since you became his padawan, didn’t he?… so now more than ever he’s going to take care of you, it doesn’t matter if he needs to fight a damn exogorth to keep you safe.

But, in this moment, he only needs to let you rest and keep you warm, preventing you from catching a cold. Just holding you close as the stars shine in the dark midnight sky.

#luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker smut #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction

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