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echo-goes-mmm · 7 months

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Ambrose and Elliot #18

Masterpost

Warnings: sickness

Elliot had an itch in his throat. At first he thought it was leftover from screaming during James’s visit, but that was a while ago and it hadn’t gone away.

He kept on with his chores regardless. It was his place to serve, and a little cold shouldn’t stop him. Master had been rewarding him at the end of every day with a shiny gold coin and Elliot didn’t want to disappoint him. It would be just as bad as the beating that would follow.

He was tired now, too. It wasn’t the satisfying kind that he’d gotten used to after a day of being a good boy. Instead of sleeping pleasant and deep, he tossed and turned at night. Cold and hot all at once, and his beloved blanket wasn’t doing its job. It wasn’t fair. Elliot had been eating more than he’d ever gotten before. He slept well. He had no open wounds (the scratches had faded just like Ambrose said), so there was nothing to infect. It wasn’t fair!

And it wouldn’t be fair to Master Ambrose to stop working. So he didn’t.

___________________

He couldn’t get out of bed. Oh gods, he couldn’t get out of bed.

The fire had gone out during the night, and the fall air chilled him. He shivered, burrowing into the quilt, blanket, and pillows. His jaw barely creaked open enough to breathe, as his nose was clogged. Why did everything hurt? His limbs weighed him down and his muscles protested at the slightest movement.

Light began to filter through the windows. Dawn was approaching. His room faced the sunrise, and it was too bright. Just yesterday, he’d cleaned the windows and now he couldn’t get up to draw the curtains closed. How pathetic.

He watched the beams of light grow longer on his floor. Master Ambrose would be awake soon. Please help me.

___________________

Elliot wasn’t up and about yet. Odd. He wasn’t in the kitchen, or the dining room, or even outside watching the sunrise.

Ambrose knocked on the bedroom door. He heard a faint whine from behind the wood.

“Ellie,” he called, turning the knob, “I’m coming in, sweetheart.”

Elliot was bundled in both his quilt and blanket. Shivering and squinting, he panted and looked absolutely awful. The fire was out, and cold.

Ambrose crossed the room, closing the curtains. Dimming the light would help Elliot’s obvious headache.

He arranged a few logs in the fireplace, striking a flint to light them. He would need to bring more wood from a neighboring room later.

___________________

“Oh Ellie,” said Master, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I’m so sorry.”

Master’s cool hand brushed away his sweaty hair to take his temperature. Master tutted, and guilt swirled in his gut. If Ambrose wasn’t panicked, it must not be that bad. If it wasn’t that bad, Elliot should be working.

He tried getting up, but Master Ambrose gently pushed him back onto the bed.

“None of that, love. Just stay in bed, and I’ll take care of everything.” Elliot was relieved. Now he could rest and obey at the same time. He’d make it up to Master later.

He let Ambrose rearrange the blankets, untangling them from between his legs. The fire was already warming the room and the pleasantness made his eyelids heavy.

___________________

Ambrose let Elliot doze as he tiptoed down the stairs. Luckily, he’d made and canned a huge batch of chicken stock for soup season. Made with roasted chicken bones and bits with peppercorns, bundles of herbs, garlic, and vegetables, the hearty stock would be perfect for Elliot. And it would provide some fluid and nutrients.

He grabbed a pint from the storeroom and set to work. He drizzled some oil in a copper pot and set the heat. Ambrose minced some garlic and ginger and tossed it in the pot. Ginger would help reduce the croaking pain in Elliot’s throat. He diced an onion while the aromatics became fragrant. He added the onion and gave it a stir. Ambrose uncapped the pint of stock, and carefully plopped it into the pot. It was so rich, it had partially congealed. Perfect.

Ambrose held off on adding potatoes. They would be fine for Elliot if cut small enough, but Ambrose knew swallowing would be tough for him. Better to start off with a thinner soup and gradually thicken it as Elliot recovered. Instead, he added some cream for protein. A generous amount of salt, and it was nearly ready.

Soon it was the perfect temperature and the scent was delightful. He ladled a portion into a wooden bowl and carried it up to Elliot’s room.

___________________

Elliot tried to sleep, but the rumble of his stomach kept the fuzziness in his brain from working. The ache in his joints was uncomfortable, and he just wanted everything to go away. He felt so heavy.

“Love, I’m coming in,” said Master.

Elliot saw the bowl and spoon as Master entered. His stuffy nose kept him from smelling anything, but even the promise of food made his mouth water. Master Ambrose sat the bowl on his nightstand, and helped him sit up. Ambrose even propped up the pillows to keep his head from lolling, and Elliot was too tired to even feel ashamed for being useless.

___________________

He couldn’t lift the spoon. Damn. He should have thought of that.

Elliot stared at the soup, despair on his face. Elliot was so fond of food, and for good reason. Sympathy panged in Ambrose’s heart. It must be killer for Elliot to be so close and yet unable to eat without assistance.

Ambrose put the bowl to Elliot’s lips, tilting it ever so slightly. He’d intentionally made it just warm enough to eat right away, thank goodness. Elliot drank, his eyes fluttering. After a moment, Ambrose pulled away to let him breathe.

The look Elliot gave him was halfway murderous and it was almost comical if it weren’t for everything else.

“I don’t want you to choke,” explained Ambrose, and Elliot settled down. Hiccups wouldn’t help either. They were unpleasant if your throat was raw.

Ambrose fed him until the bowl was empty. Elliot had finished it quickly, drinking it down as greedily as a bottle-fed lamb.

“Let’s wait to see how your stomach does,” said Ambrose. “I’ll get you more if you can keep it down, okay?”

Elliot gave him a small smile; he understood.

“Do you want to sleep?”

“Mhm.”

Ambrose helped him lay down again. He’d have to stay by Elliot’s side today. Thankfully it was the third day of the week, so he didn’t have to put out notice that he had closed.

But as he grabbed a book from his shelves and went back to Elliot’s side, he wondered. How did he get sick so fast? He understood why Elliot was hit so hard; he was still not physically recovered from before, and the stress of the recent fight must have contributed. But these things didn’t happen overnight.

He watched Elliot’s chest rise and fall. The soup had loosened his stuffy nose a little, but he still couldn’t breathe through it. Ambrose would have to whip up some medicine to make that easier.

If Elliot had hidden his developing sickness from him, Ambrose needed to know. He’d ask as soon as Elliot could tell him.

___________________

Elliot’s fever broke as he slept, but a cough had taken its place. Ambrose dashed downstairs and hastily made a salve for Elliot’s chest. It was a sticky thing, full of strong scented herbs that would help Elliot breathe.

Carefully, he pulled back the bedclothes and reached under Elliot’s nightshirt. The salve was still warm as he didn’t wait for it to set. He smeared a generous amount on Elliot.

He barely stirred at the touch. It worried Ambrose, but at least he was sleeping.

___________________

Elliot woke up groggy. His head was stuffed with cotton but he could breathe a bit better. Ambrose sat next to him, a book in his hands. He had stayed, and that meant the world to him.

“How are you feeling?” asked Ambrose, setting aside the book.

“Better,” he croaked. And then he coughed and Ambrose sighed a little. His shirt stuck to his chest when he coughed and it felt… sticky under there. Alarmed, he clutched at his shirt and looked down. No blood. And hey, his arm was responding now. But what was it?

“What- what’s on-” he coughed again.

“Just some breathing cream. I’m sorry I didn’t wake you to put it on. You needed to rest.”

Oh. That was nice. It seemed to be working, at least.

“Do you want some more soup?”

“Mhm.”

___________________

The next few days were a blur of tissues and various teas and soups. Elliot’s fever had returned a couple times, and scared the hell out of Ambrose. He’d even gone delirious at one point and begged Ambrose to let him go. It broke his heart.

Elliot had nightmares, too. Eventually Ambrose started reading to him, and that seemed to help.

His cough had gone from a dry nuisance to a wet hack but a steady treatment of the cream and hearty, steaming food kept the worst of it at bay. At one point he’d hacked up something green and nasty and the cough significantly diminished.

Elliot kept everything he ate down, and Ambrose was proud to say Elliot hadn’t lost any weight while bedridden.

By the third day, Elliot was up and moving. His cough was gone, and the weakness subsided into a simple tiredness that could be treated with an afternoon nap. The worst of it was over, and Elliot would be fine.

Thank the gods.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#SICKFIC SICKFIC #i was ~inspired~ by both a spanish flu and a bubonic plague documentary #Ambrose doesnt get sick here bc he has an immune system with 100+ years experience and also is perpetually 25 years old #got that +75 advantage at 'resist disease' rolls #ambrose and elliot #my writing #whump #slavery whump

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voiures · 2 years

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“Le cygne noir prend son envol.”

When a person walks into a room, measure the silence that falls, they say. A minute quiet, to observe, mock and judge or an intake of breath and anticipation. When Jimin walks into a room, a different kind of silence falls.

That moment before a rollercoaster drops.

The backstage area in the Seoul Arts Centre is alive with the sound of ballerinas rushing around like rabid peacocks. The illusion of grace is that, an illusion. Jimin is a blur, like a cartoon on steroids, racing from one wall to the other, high on the caffeine, it’s unbelievable that during the rehearsals and performances, he even has grace. Tonight’s rehearsal is a variant of Swan Lake acted out in an item of shiny clothing. Jimin is the swan king and as such, he has form-fitting violet trousers with a silver stripe running down the side. He is quite not sure how he feels about it, his hair is coiffed up and swept back, frozen with tons of hairspray and glitter, matching tones sprinkled across his freckles.

He looks exquisite.

He’s exquisite. The deranged expressions are bringing out a beauty in Jimin that doesn’t exist outside of this room. It doesn’t exist outside of the crystalline white powder still dusted around his nostrils. There’s a steady flush rising over his neck, cheeks, and nose, his eyes are misty with sunlight, they sparkle like diamonds. He looks like he’s been ravaged, violated in his deepest parts. He looks helpless.

He doesn’t know why he enjoys that expression on himself. “Don’t try to fucking fool yourself, you know what would she say about your sick thoughts.” He pirouettes on the spot and in the space of that single movement, has his shirt up and over his head. He keeps it in his hand, using it as a prop. It twirls like a gymnastic ribbon as he leaps into a grand jeté. “What would they do if they knew about your background?” The dance turns into an allegro, making use of the entire floor space. He throws away the shirt as his movements slow down, running a hand over his thighs, before arching himself into a starting position for a promenade an arabesque. “Call the police, tell them the truth of your mother’s death.” He turns on the spot, single foot shifting him in increments as if the floor is turning him instead. In the mirror, he is a perfect ballet dancer in a music box.

It does feel like he’s a glass figurine on a display case, waiting to be admired and bought home. But he knows better than that. He’s terrified. He’s terrified of fucking it up. He’s not terrified of fucking up the performance, he’s terrified of fucking himself up. There’s a flaw in his logic, in the way he thinks. He knows he’s avoiding the truth because he’s afraid that it will destroy his illusion. His illusion is, the way he thinks he’s gotten better, better at hiding things, better at concealing his invisible bruises. He badly wants to believe he has gotten better, but he knows the truth because a wound to the heart is also a wound to the mind.

#chapter 1 #self para #ㅈ

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honeymaki · 3 years

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I feel like jock!Sasha would share you with her team at first it's after they won the championship and things get too heated then it's after a tournament that they lost and need to blow some steam then it's before a game because they do better seeing you all messed up in the stands then it's all the time it's slow and no one really notices until it's an (almost) everyday activity of the team passing you around when they get together.

Warnings: orgy, group sex, slight degradation but no detail, strapon, oral, tribadism, squirting, overstimulation.

jock!sasha at first shares selfies of herself after a post-win session with you; messy haired, rosy cheeked and shiny chinned, your bare legs around her head and there's obvious essence dripping down your thighs. Then it moves to pictures of you in the seconds after she makes you cum, showing the group chat how pretty you are fucked out and on the verge of tears, maybe a short video of you panting and still twitching and still moaning her name.

Then Annie boldly asks for a little more - something more intimate, something just more. And Sasha goes for it, fucking - a whole 10 minutes of you bouncing on her strap with her meaty thumb pressed snug against your puffy clit, spreading you so they can all see the creamy strings sticking to your folds and to her thick black strap.

And then comes that fateful team meet when they all get a bit drunk and a bit bold, and Sasha's got you creaming on her thigh in that tight little dress and suddenly Mikasa's sat on your face and Annie and Ymir are fighting over who bullies their fingers into your poor little abused cunt first:((

They - as a team, were never ones for traditions or rituals or anything before or after games. So when Sasha brought you to the next post match party dressed in the tightest little bunny outfit complete with ears and a tail; they all decided that maybe you could become their post game ritual. Passing you around in some debauched circle, a few of them wearing strap ons with varying sizes of dick, and the rest all gagging for a taste of your perfect angel cunt:(( Historia loves pressing her pussy to yours, powerful thighs flexing under her team jersey and humping you hard, slow and strong, lewd and sticky and slick and you know there are numerous videos circling some twitter profiles of your two pussies kissing nd grinding nd sliding together.

There are times when it's not - as loving and fun and entertaining, when they loose, when Ymir comes back with a bloody nose and shoves three fingers into you without even a kiss hello, fucking you hard and fast and demanding you squirt for her. Those days are when they use you, abuse your cunt and your ass and your mouth however they saw fit, making you cum over and over because they had some sick obsession with your entire body sweating and quaking and completely at their mercy.

Before games, it's similar? But more boisterous, more 'blowing off steam so you don't punch a locker, Historia'. Your girlfriend has you on all fours, fucking your creamy cunt and pushing you hard into Mikasa's crotch, urging you to eat her out good nd wet nd sloppy cause they think it's so cute when you try so hard:(( they're all chanting and laughing and lounging while they all take turns with you, some times rough and angry and snapping at your tits bouncing in their face; and sometimes sweet and teasing, slow brushes on your swollen clit till you lock up and squeal with a strange kind of orgasm.

You become their tradition, their ritual! it's cute! how much they all love you and care for you, treat you well with their cocks nd their fingers and their tongues and their perfect pussies - but none, none of them compare to how eagerly and how sloppy Sasha eats you out in front of them all. That's always the last thing that happens no matter what, no matter the time or game or win or loose; Sasha makes sure she has her face in your cunt after everyone on the team has had a go, lips spreading yours, tongue curling perfectly and flicking your overstimulated clit. S'mainly cause you're so sensitive, so wound up that you gush and cream and squirt all over her face within seconds and no trophy or prize money can ever compare to that:((

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gaysimpsstuff · 3 years

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Could I get a Hawks in his rut headcanon?

No problem, Anon! I’m sorry this took so long, I wanted it to be perfect since I really like thinking about Hawks’ avian traits, and I know people really like it too. I hope it’s good!

Hawks Rut Headcannons

Genre: fluff, smut

Type: headcannons (so... many... headcannons)

Warnings: animal traits, Keigo being possessive af, the commission being assholes, sickness, food, breeding kink, lots of horny times

Other: most of this is based off of real research, but some of it also comes from personal preference. @keilemlucent and their fic Best Nest very much inspired many other headcannons, check them outI They’re one of my favorite creators, and the linked fanfic is one of my favorites! Hope it’s okay I tagged you here lmao

NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy (Lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the Taglist)

Remember to check if requests are open before sending in a request. This was made while requests were still open.

Pre-Rut Behaviors

Grooming and Preening

Before his rut, Keigo starts to feel dirty. He just seems to accumulate more dust and dirt during hero work than usual. He’ll come back home grumbling about blood in his hair and little bits of concrete in/on his skin.

He will insist you clean him off. So you get to brush his hair, put creams on his face, and wash him off in the shower.

Finally, there’s the preening. If he lets you preen his wings, then you know he’s in it for life. He loves and trusts you with everything he has.

Expect him to press his nose against yours a lot.

Possessiveness and Protection

You’ll notice he gets more clingy, more possessive of you. He gets really controlling in the days leading up to his rut, so you’ll be annoyed a l o t.

Just text all your friends and family that you’ve been swamped at work, it’d be a little weird to say “hey guys, sorry I can’t hang out, my boyfriend’s horomones are crazy right now and he gets really insecure if I so much as exist near anyone but him.”

You would come home from work and he’s already on you, sniffing your body to see who you’ve been around, and to see if any of them were attracted to you at all.

If he had any kind of sneaking suspicion that anyone posed a threat, he’s literally laying on you and rolling on top of you to try and get his scent on you. Even if no one will smell it except him, he’s gonna do it.

He’s so protective of you, and if something tiny hurts you or makes you upset...

He.

Is.

Angry.

Someone was rude to you? He’s screaming at them.

Someone tries to hurt or touch you? You’ve got to hold him back to stop him from ripping that person apart limb from limb.

All that x100 when he’s approaching his rut.

One person accidentally bumps into you? He takes it as passive aggressiveness even if they’re very apologetic about it.

You stub your toe on a table? He’s smashed the table and burnt it then thrown the ashes in the ocean.

If you’re sad about something he can’t beat up, he feels horrible. He’s not the best at comforting people, so he’s just grabbing onto you and not letting go, telling you how much he loves and cares for you, and just how amazing you make his life feel.

If you don’t give him enough attention, he gets really huffy, and it gets worse leading up to his rut.

You lifted your hands from his head to reach for your buzzing phone? He’s already whining and pouting and begging you to give him more head-pats again.

Nesting

He’ll leave hints asking for you to make a nest, usually saying things like “Our bed needs some changing, don’t you think?” “Don’t you wish our space was more personalized?”

If you don’t get the hint, he’ll be very sad, and he thinks you’re rejecting him. So you’d better be good at reading into things and realizing he’s approaching mating season and wants you to build a nest.

He comes home one day and sees you piled blankets, pillows, and dirty clothes in the living room, sprayed with his cologne and you’re cologne and/or perfume. He pulls you into his arms and spins around with you, giggling and laughing.

He’s so happy you made a nest for the two of you.

He starts putting pretty shiny things he likes around the nest. Your toothbrush went missing and you found it in the mountain that was your nest.

Once, you were in desperate need of a clean shirt, and the only clean shirt you could find was in the nest. So you picked it up to put it on, and two seconds later, Keigo was in front of you, hands in your shirt, staring at you with such a fierce intensity, you felt almost like a villain.

He was very mad at you for taking things from your shared nest.

He leaves feathers all around the penthouse, but they’re all piled mostly around the nest, they’re for your protection so don’t try and throw them away.

Noises

He also gets really noisy, so he’ll be ‘singing’ and squawking and cooing constantly. He feels really bad about it so he might get you some noise-blocking headphones for when he’s screeching into the sky in the dead of night about how “THIS IS MY FUCKING TERRITORY Y’ALL MOTHERFUCKERS STAY AWAYYYY!”

You really think bird’s springtime songs are about love? Nah he’s mostly screaming about how he’s gonna fuck his partner and how the neighborhood practically belongs to him.

Someone called the police once, tired of all the shouting, but the officers backed off when they saw who was doing all the shouting. Most of your neighbors are used to the screaming during early spring.

Rut End-game

On the third and second to last day before his rut, he gets a sudden burst of energy and an increased appetite. He refuses to eat anything unless you’ve made it though, so let’s best hope you can cook at least a little.

When he was younger, his hungry times before his rut were spent either eating anything and everything he can get his hands on. The commission broke that behavior very quickly though, so he’d starve himself before his rut, which would result in him getting very sick from a lack of energy and sustenance. That plus the extreme arousal was a recipe for pain and suffering.

So when you noticed he suddenly stopped eating, you insisted on making food for him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him go hungry ever. That was the first rut in years that didn’t feel like torture.

You’re cooking almost all the time, and he’s constantly eating everything you give him, running around from room to room while he waits for his next meal. He’s basically a hobbit.

In the last day or two before his rut, he suddenly has no energy, and starts getting hot and cold flashes. He’s sniffling, curled up in your shared nest, dirty tissues surrounding him. He comes in and out of consciosness, and when he’s awake, he’s whining and complaining about exhaustion and aches.

Physical Changes

Most of these happen in the last few days leading up to his rut, so it’ll be very sudden. These physical changes is what causes the extreme hunger and sickness.

His feathers darken several shades, and they become super sensitive. They also seem to grow in size, so when you cuddle, you’re smothered by them more than usual.

He also gains an extra couple inches in height, so expect some teasing now that he’s just that little bit taller. His hair also gets thicker and stronger, that’s so you can pull on it when he fucks you.

His nails get longer and darker, and they’re impossible to file or cut. So when he holds you and touches you, he often scratches you on accident. He’s really apologetic about it, but honestly you could totally paint his nails and pretend they’re acrylics if you’re into that.

His teeth get sharper, and he starts biting you just for fun. Bites your finger, hand, wrist, neck, even your nose. He underestimated just how strong his teeth are, and he made you bleed first time he bit you.

His whole body is very sensitive, so head-pats, back rubs, wings, and even his touching his feet can get him to the verge of cumming.

his tongue is longer, and it’s a whole lot stronger. He could probably carry a full plastic water bottle with his tongue (which isn’t a lot, but for a tongue it’s very much a lot).

His voice drops a whole octave and a half- mans is sounding almost like Corpse now. Maybe Markiplier? Anyways, if you’ve got a voice kink, you’re in luck

His dick changes too, it gets bigger, and he grows a lump at the base of it, between his shaft and balls. His balls get smaller until they’re barely noticable beneath what he calls him ‘knot.’

His eyes become sharper too, so don’t try and hide anything from him.

Rut (MAJOR NSFW)

Everyone already knows Keigo has a breeding kink, but he hasn’t brought it up with you until now. It just kind of- happens. As he’s drilling into you, he suddenly starts blabbering about fucking a kid into you, and how hot you’d look all round with his kids. Might be a little weird for those of you who physically cannot give birth to children (my lovely AMABS and infertile AFABS).

He can’t control it, so it’s especially weird if you don’t even want kids. If you can get pregnant, you’d better double check that you’re taking your birth control. And get to know some good clinics just in case.

However, if you do want kids, if you want to start a biological family woth Keigo, fuck. You will not be able to handle his happiness and horniness in that moment when you beg him to get you pregnant.

He is going to mark you up. Hickies, bruises, hand prints, bite marks, plus his scent. He needs everyone to know that you are his. He wants to claim you, make sure you know you belong to him. No one else can have you but him.

Halfway through your fuckfest, he starts making animalistic noises. He’s growling, roaring, whining, chirping, etc. This is around the time when he stops thinking about you, so he’ll really rough you up during this phase.

This man was a virgin before you, so this is also the first rut he’s ever going to have with another person, so he’ll hold himself back a lot. He needs you to reassure him at every step, tell him how good you feel, how you want him to fuck you, how not only are you okay with him going all out, you want him too.

Did he just cum? You think you’re finished? HA! No way in fucking hell is he finished after one, two, five, ten... so many rounds. He just keeps going and going and going and how the fuck is he still hard? He cums so fucking quickly, so much, and then keeps going.

When he finally does go soft, his whole personality changes. it’s like he didn’t just fuck you stupid. He immediately goes into ‘protect’ mode, which includes cuddles, him spoon-feeding you, petting you like a dog, and singing to you.

He puts the nest near a window so he can keep an eye out for possible threats. Just like “gotta keep mate safe. Is that the mailman? NO FUCK NO GET OUT OF HEREEEE!”

One moment, he’s fucking you, and the next he’s leaning halfway out the window, screaming at some poor dude walking his dog. Remember, he’s still naked. You learned your lesson after that and kept the windows locked, and warned the neighbors to stay out of sight of the window, at least for the time being.

You’re going to feel very dirty, because he does not want you cleaning off the sweat, cum, and tears from your body. He likes that you smell like him, and you washing it off makes him feel rejected.

He’s going to break a lot of things, so move pictures and vases into another room and lock the fuck out of that room. Or else he will break all of it.

He thinks any clothes you’re wearing are mocking him, so wear clothes you hate when his rut starts, then get used to being naked for a couple days.

Oh yeah, his whole rut lasts one to five days. He’s fucking you for about three days on average.

He fucks you until you faint, and then keeps going until he’s out of ‘fuck’ mode and into ‘protect’ mode. A few times, he fucked you unconscious in the middle of the afternoon and then kept fucking you until the sun rose.

Yeah, he’s got that much energy.

Don’t worry, during the whole time, he lets out pheromones with a strong vanilla-chocolaty scent that keeps your body and mind relaxed.

There’ve been times when he’s just fucking into you and your water bottle is just out of reach.

During his rut, he has no shame. Let’s hope your walls are soundproofed, or else your neighbors will all know how he fucks you.

He will not restrain you or hurt you in any way during his rut. So no degredation, no collars or chains, the only thing keeping you in the nest is his weight on top of you.

He gets upset if you try to touch yourself, things it’s you trying to tell him that he’s not satisfying you enough.

He wants you to cum as many times as him, which is difficult because of his increased sensitivity, so he’s using every skill he knows to get you cumming again and again and again.

Most of the time, he’s going hard, rough, and spilling absolute filth from his cock and mouth, but in the last few hours of his rut, he suddenly gets emotional.

He’s rocking up against you, holding you close to his body and blabbering about you

How much he loves you

How good you make him feel

How he wouldn’t want anyone else by his side for his rut

How you’re his mate for life

How he’ll protect you and keep you safe.

Please be gentle with him, he’s very vulnerable near the end of his rut, and he’ll cry very easily.

When he’s nearing his last load, he makes out with you sloppily, trying to talk as he shoves his tongue down your throat.

He finishes off by pushing his knot all the way inside you, and stays there for an hour.

This is the softest moment, and he’s covering your body in kisses.

His knot pushes these small eggs inside you, and you have the lovely job of pushing them all out the next day.

Post Rut

When his knot deflates, he finally pulls out and starts cleaning you off.

He’ll carry you around and finally gives you a bath, constantly making sure you’re okay.

He’ll give you lots of massages and he’ll cook for you. He’s constantly thanking you for helping him, telling you he didn’t deserve it.

Just kiss him on the cheek, tell him you had fun, and that you love him so very very much.

He needs the most reassurance now than ever before.

He’s also very tired, so you’ll be taking care of each other.

Then his ‘post-rut’ resets, and he sleeps for hours.

Then he gets super hungry, and the two of you make huge meals and just kinda binge eat for a day or two.

Then his physical changes go back to normal, and you have a happy lil bird boy who simps for you so hard

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miekasa · 3 years

Text

six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex.

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team.

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.”

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #armin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #armin smut #armin fluff #eren x reader

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munsnz · 3 years

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TRICKS OF LIFE — STEVE HARRINGTON

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢. — 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠?

Tags: @itsnottilly

Summary : after the troubling interrogation, Y/N sets back off, possibly created contact with an ex-friend, a bully, a douche bag. Learning the conflict and grudges, tension is brought to them.

Navigation — Mixtape

“Y/N, Y/N. Y/N!” A shout flickered the girl back to the futile, cold office, accompanied by the principal, chief, and the officer, who seemed slightly worried about the girl who seemed to have dozed off into the abundance of memories and thoughts overflowing her own emotions, a sense of guilt welling up on her, “Are you listening?”

Her eyes blinked, watching the concerned adults, who were looking back at her. She shakes her head, her brittle hair moving from side to side, trying her best to hold back tears, not wanting to know of the possibilities of Will not being safe. Remembering a bit of the event that carried on last night, she spoke forward, “I-I only remember leaving early, since I had to be home by six. Will was with the party, so I don’t know much from there.”

Callahan cleared his throat, taking the seat next to her, “Do you know what street he usually takes to go home?”

”Mirkwood,” Y/N fixes her jacket, watching her dad rolls his eyes, remembering the fuss the party made while they interrogated them about a few hours ago. She looks around, the diplomas displayed on the back, tears slightly welled up in her E/C eyes, feeling a pit in her stomach, “I-I’m sorry. Is there any way I could help?”

She snapped.

Heavy streams of tears dropped onto her pale cheeks, now one of her responsibilities of whom she had promised to take care of was gone. If she should’ve stayed a little longer, just an hour more, she could’ve prevented it. It’s all her fault, all her fault. No wonder she was a failure, maybe those dorks from years ago were right. It was all her fault her mom ever divorced Hopper. It’s everything, all her fault-

“Y/N,” A large hand rubbed her back up and down, making her try to feel better, the girl that had her hands buried into her face, looked up to see her dad, sitting beside her, “You just have to keep a brave face, and no investigating okay?”

Her heavy eyes drift towards the bearded man, watching her sternly beside her, she frantically nods. Later then, she provided a bit more information about Will and his family, now that she’s been with them for five years now. Ever since that broad decision was made, it would become one of the most treasured moments in her life, the strong bond brought them together.

Excused from the staff, she strolled back to the hallway, barging through her cluttered backpack to try to find a fresh pack of cigarettes, but none were to be found. She sighed loudly, to swing her backpack to its default position and pacing along the hallway. The realization kept hitting her, her eyes burned, while she quivered, biting her lip. That same feeling inside the principal’s office, the guilt. What was there to be guilty about anyways?

“Oh, won’t you look who it is!” A cocky tone appeared from afar, Y/N gave no shit to turn to the voice but instead continue watching the shiny floor, reflecting the lights above, “I guess Hopper is weeping for her mommy. Oh right, she doesn’t have one.”

Furious at the remark, her eyes darted across to find a brunette, with ‘perfect’ hair, leaning against the metal lockers. Steve fucking Harrington. This boy had it all against the girl, ever since those harsh words being repeated over and over, like a broken cassette, threw her into the lowest state. Y/N’s expressions turned bitter, her nose wrinkled, and pursed her lips, “Stop acting like you’re ten, Steve.”

”I see you’ve been listening,” He raises his eyebrows, snarlingly commenting, shifting his hands to his pockets in his khaki jeans.

“So?” Y/N spoke back, slowing her pace down to be able to talk to him although feeling like the need to ignore back again. Why was she going to bother her time with him?

Oh right.

Steve, her old friend. Accidental friends after he was helping his mom bringing in the groceries on a cool December day, back in her elementary school years. After the kind offering Y/N gave during a small ride around town, it evolved to an odd friendship, one to which Y/N had been too attached. Steve might have found it odd that a girl, a girl, like Y/N Hopper would be around him so much. Clingy, was the word he gave her, was it offensive?

Maybe.

But due to stereotypical construct, you would’ve guessed everyone calling them annoying names, couple names, like two romantics although they were only like, twelve. From “When are you going to marry her?” and the “Where’s your girlfriend?” Honestly, no one else was surprised by Y/N’s small reoccurring crush on him. Stuck like glue, Steve didn’t like this bubbly, excited Y/N anymore, she was pushy. Sick of the repetitive comments to him and meeting new friends, who were dickheads in the girl’s eyes, he wanted to push her away, she was annoying, bratty, and clingy. He listened to those kids, these kids that Steve considered ‘friends’ were total assholes, persuading him to become sort of like them. Only the beginning of the 6th grade. They were stupid, naive, reckless, are what other parents claimed to be, couldn’t they move on.

To this day, she still reckons why she ever told Steve, why was she so dependent on someone with who she’d only been friends for months? Why Steve? Why out of all the friends she supposedly had, why him? It seemed like an utter dependency she had for him, she even knows she must’ve scared him off for being well..... her. Y/N was young, it was one mistake to tell a secret to someone you somewhat knew would tell everyone, right?

”Can I tell you a secret Steve?” Y/N crossed her legs in front of him, playing with her fingers nervously. Awaiting for a bit of truth to be let out. As everyone has supposedly known, Y/N had a supposed mother and sister who were alive, and together. Everyone believed that the Hopper’s were the happy family, her sister was alive along with her mom that was still with them. Truth was, Sarah was dead, Diane divorced Jim when the girl was eleven years old. A broken family, from papers to fighting for custody, it was all crumbled to pieces, unlike close and tight-knit families.

Steve looked up from the ground to meet the girl’s eyes. He slowly shuffled closer to her, “Yeah okay tell me.”

Y/N breathed in and out, before leaning into his left ear, “I don’t have a sister nor a mommy.”

”What?” His chocolate eyes widened, scooting away from her, getting up rapidly to avoid contact, “That’s weird! Everybody has a mom! You’re a freak!”

Frazzled, Y/N sat still, watching him running away, feeling a bit hurt due to his reaction. She thought maybe she trusted him with her life although he didn’t feel the same, she thought that he could’ve been more supportive. What if he was right? Anyways, it was ok, it was his first reaction, it’s normal, right?

Nope, it wasn’t. After finding such intimate information about this girl he wanted to get rid of due to popularity, he set off to tell every single kid at school. Maybe this was for the best, he would get her out of the way to focus on his supposed friends. Creating such influence in the school, he somehow got ahold of everyone to turn their backs on Y/N. Oh, what entirety of hurtful words that they targeted poor Y/N with. Everyone excluded her, the freak, weirdo, dumb girl that didn’t have parents and a dead sister. Everybody no longer liked the lonely Y/N, just a bit of trust would be one to ruin a life. It consequently grew worse, it wasn’t even verbal teasing, it became physical. Steve being stupid and reckless had ruined her life, and for what? Just getting rid of her. Realize, how the effect of one's words to make a benefit can create a rumble over people, they were young and stupid..... can’t that be a proper excuse to move on?

Everyone knows Y/N. Y/N Hopper, the stubborn, tired and selfless girl who held grudges against everyone. They all knew she wasn’t going to move on anytime soon. Subtle changes to herself and her personality, she became quiet, reserved yet so outspoken about her opinions. Everyone seemed to have moved on, back into high school, more mature and old enough to hold responsibilities, but Y/N. A slow hatred burned inside her, even though it was years back, everyone liked Steve. That stayed the same for sure, he was more prissy and above it all, unlike Y/N. It may have seemed like........ they never knew each other. Strange, maybe it was better that they stayed apart.

Gallantly watching her feet stay still under her, she looked back at him cheekily smiling as if nothing had happened. Why did he forget everything? “Shouldn’t you be in class, since when has the Y/N Hopper been so rebellious?”

”I was called to the office,” Y/N mumbled, shrugging her shoulders, trying to drift off into the narrow hallway, “What about you?”

”Thought I could skip, Mrs. Wyatt doesn’t do shit.”

Without spatting anything back, the annoyance of the school bell rang for the third period, students piled out of the classrooms in the crowded hallway. Girls and boys trudged along the place, like birds migrating to their destinations automatically, it may seem like a normal fall day in town, but it would be a life changing experience for some. No one knew Will Byers, why would they care anyways?

Before Steve could look back at the girl, she disappeared into thin air, never to be seen for now, back to the boring classes, but with a small change of Will’s disappearance. One disappearance that could change the whole fate of small-town Hawkins, Indiana.

#Steve Harrington #steve Harrington x reader #steve Harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington angst #Steve Harrington fluff #Stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #steve Harrington x you #steve Harrington smut

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alixdelcourt · 3 years

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Hello hello againnn, tysm for yesterday’s request, I love your writing!<3 I have a new idea I just thought of, tamaki + mha guys/girls (of your choice and if you write fruity fics too) with a reader who draws a lot? And maybe they get caught or they see a sketch of them? If it isn’t so much to ask for- ty!!!

MHA boys x reader who draws a lot

Some fluff and sweetness to brighten your day (I hope so)

Ft : Tamaki, Izuku and Denki

(First pic credits : Peachimis on TikTok)

It’s a beautiful day. The weather is fine: clear blue sky and warm sun. You and Tamaki are strolling in a parc, admiring the nature around and the ambient calm. Your boyfriend carries a wicker basket for you, holding your lunch and stuff in. When you two got hungry, you just settle under a big tree, unwrapping a blanket and having lunch in the branches’ shade. This was the kind of perfect dates that makes you so in love with Tamaki. He’s quiet, and like peaceful time, just like you. Birds of a feather flock together, isn’t it ?

Tamaki’s reading, comfortably leaning against the trunk, and you are scribbling some sketches in your sketchbook. Drawing is a passion, and you can’t help but try to picture whatever’s near you. This sketchbook is your private garden, and Tamaki respects it. He never presses you to show him what you had drawn, he just knows that if you want to, you would come up to him, asking for his opinion about it.

And today, you want to show him the picture of a cute bird who was perched just above your head. You wanted to know if it’s resembling to the model or not. You need an outside look.

“Tamaki ?”

He raised his nose from his book to look at you.

“Yes, (y/n) ?”

“Could you take a look at something ?”

“Of course, honey”

You hand you sketchbook to him, but when he took it from you, a wind blow turned the pages, loosing the small bird’s sketch. And Tamaki came face to face with… himself. It was him, on the drawing. His purple hair, his elf ears, his thin hands… But he was pictured as an angel. It was… really well done, and absolutely lovely.

You quickly shut and take back your sketchbook, brick red colored cheeks. But it was too late. He saw it. And he was hard blushing as well. You were embarrassed. You felt obligated to apologize:

“ I am sorry… Just forget about this… You should never have seen that. It’s bum, anyway… I am sor-”

You can’t continue, because Tamaki arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you to his embrace. He’s still blushing, and can’t hold your gaze, but he wasn’t mad. Not at all. He was softly smiling, burying his nose in your hair. This drawing was the most precious confession you made for him. Even if it wasn’t on purpose.

“It’s not bum. It’s perfect. I love it.”

And before you could add anything else,

“I love you, (y/n).”

Izuku Midoriya is sick again, and stuck in the infirmary. He had a hard time training when he did push too much on himself, and he needs to rest for a few days. You went to check on him with some friends, and poor baby was so anxious about skipping school and having trouble caching up what he missed.

You have a huge crush on Izuku, and in order to help him, and maybe score some points to him, you decided to take double notes in class, writing down in a new notebook, just like those used by Izuku himself. You’ll give to him after school, so you’re not obliged to lend him your messy notes, and he’ll be able to catch up studying in the infirmary. It was a bit hard to order and organize your note taking, but you want it to be well presented for him.

You struggle at the beginning, but get used quickly to write faster in order to double note on your book and his. Even Aizawa noticed and asked what were you doing. He lowkey congrats you for your “team spirit”. You did it all day long, in every class. You can be pride of yourself, it was a great idea.

But you didn’t notice. You didn’t pay attention to your bad habits. You’re an airhead, having trouble concentrating, and you need to focus your mind on something and keep your hands busy with some repetitive moves. Like fold and unfold the corner of the pages, clicking your pen, or just randomly scribbling on your pages’ edges. Little doodles that you don’t even look at. Oblivious drawings of what’s in your head.

Shiny smiling on, you head to the infirmary immediately after the bell ringing. Recovery Girl let you visit Izuku, who was better than yesterday.

“Izuku-kun ! How are you today ? Better ?”

“Yes, thank you for caring, (y/n)”

You took the notebook out of your bag, and give it to him. His name was beautifully calligraphed on it. He blushed a bit, looking at you for some explanations.

“I did this for you ! So you can study like us, even if you are not taking classes. It’s yours, you can keep it ! But since you’re not coming back tomorrow, Recovery Girl told me, I’ll come in the morning to get it back and to take note for you again. Does it sound okay for you ?”

After long minutes of embarrassed and grateful thanks from Izuku, you left him alone to study and rest.

The next day, as promised, you picked his notebook from his nightstand, since he was asleep, and nearly arrived late to your class. You sit at your desk and prepare yourself to take notes. When you open Izuku’s notebook, a fold paper drops from it. Your name was on it, so you unfold it. You freeze, eyes and mouth wide open, skin turning to a scarlet tone. Matching the redness of the heart that was drawn on the paper. A big bright red heart. With Izuku signature. A few moments later, still red, you have to concentrate if you don’t want to miss what Ectoplasm was explaining. Mathematics always give you headache, so you need to concentrate. It was then that you noticed what Izuku probably noticed as well. Little sketches of him. Everywhere. Him in his hero costume, in his school uniform, in school sportswear, smiling, winking, sticking his tongue out, with random little stars and tiny hearts everywhere.

RIP you. And RIP him as well. He wasn’t asleep this morning, he was all flustered and shy. Was your sketches some kind of flirting ? Even if he likes you as well, he just doesn’t know how to deal with this. But nor do you. Poor crushing babies. Good luck.

Denki is playful. No doubt on that. He’s such a flirt with everyone. It’s his personality. He can’t help it. But when he is in love, it gets worse. You won’t say that he was embarrassing you, but you were confused every time he smiles or winks at you when you two are in class. In the dorms, he would randomly touch your hair, compliment your food, want to sit next to you on the couch… More than with the other girls. You like all those small attentions, but it makes you feel… insecure. Maybe paranoid. Definitely awkward. He gets flirtier and flirtier every day. Like he was waiting for something. But what ?

He was waiting for you to fall in love, and maybe confess to him afterwards. Even if it seems strange, he’s too shy to do it himself. Everyone is used to him being a tease, but how would you react if he started being romantic ? He’s afraid that you may reject him. Poor baby, don’t please, you would break his heart.

But he’s done waiting. You divert all his attention, he can’t think about anything else than you. So he decided to do something. He’ll let you know about his feelings, but not directly , so you none of you would be embarrassed if it doesn’t work. If you don’t like him, you will just ignore it, and he will be fixed. At least, he has to give it a try.

So, an evening, while everyone was in the common space of the dorm, he sneaked in your room, with a little chocolate box and a letter. A long letter explaining everything. His feelings, the fact that he can’t face you and would die collapsing if he ever tries to, and that you’re not obliged to answer. His heart was speed racing in his chest, and it nearly stopped when he noticed your desk board. There was plenty of little drawings pinned on it, from memo’s notes to random papers full of sketches.

Dozens of little Pikachus staring and smiling at him, or at everyone who would sit on the chair. So you. You were surrounded by drawings of the little electric mouse. He approached in order to ogle the details, and he saw it. Some mention of his name. Little “Denki” written here and there. He imagined you, daydreaming and nibbling the tip of your pencil, like you do in class or when you study, and thinking of him. This thought filled him with the courage he was lacking to tell you about his feelings. He just dropped what he was holding, before running to the common space. No time to waste. He already waited too long.

You were sitting on a high stool near the counter, chatting with others and watching Bakugou cooking. Like everyone, you turned your head when you heard quick footsteps arriving. Why was Denki running ?

“(Y/N) !”

You raised an eyebrow, and before you could answer, he pressed his lips against yours and kissed you with all the love he feels towards you. You don’t remember what happened next because your mind just… stopped working.

“What was that for ?”

“The pikachus”

Mina and Denki voices brought you back, before fainting again when you heard the word Pikachu.

_________________________________________

Heeeere :) Hope you'll enjoy it. Let me know if you want me to change or to fix anything, and feel free to request anything else.

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Hi!! So I was listening to paper rings by Taylor Swift today and the lyric 'I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings' made me think of coops and o'knutzy. Could you write a prompt about this?! <3

This song is so perfect for Coops and it’s the best way to start of the long-awaited wedding series! Yay! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Combined with:

1. Domestic Coops

2. Remus making fun of Sirius’ initials

3. Sirius trying to make Remus moan while he’s on the phone with his folks

4. From @colored-rain: Taking Hattie to the vet

TW for mild smutty content, taking a pet to the vet, and the inherent stress of wedding planning

I: Six Weeks Before the Wedding

“Where are we even going to do this?” Sirius asked, running a hand through his hair.

Remus shook his head silently, pressing his forehead into the wooden edge of the table. “What if we elope?”

“Celeste would skin us both.”

“True. Oh, god, my dad would cry if we did that.” Remus slid down in his seat and stared up with sad eyes. “Can’t we just be married already?”

“I could get tinfoil from the kitchen and just…” Sirius mimed wrapping it around his ring finger and Remus snorted.

“Baby, I would marry you with paper rings, but I think we want them to last.”

“You like shiny things!”

“I do, that doesn’t mean I want tinfoil on my hand for the rest of my life,” Remus laughed, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Alright, let’s go through our list again. We agreed on small, right?”

“Just the team and families. We still want it to be outside?”

“Yep.” Remus checked off two boxes on the piece of paper they had been grappling with for the past four days. “Rings have already been ordered?”

“I’m doing that this afternoon. What kind of cake do we want?”

“Uhhh…an edible one?” Remus shrugged. “I don’t have a huge preference. Chocolate is really good but all the ones from the store are spongy.”

“Wow, an edible cake, so original,” Sirius teased. “We can ask Celeste what she thinks.”

“Good plan.” He paused for a moment. “Where outside will we do it? We need an actual venue. I think people would be upset if we just had a wedding in a public park.”

“The media would be all over it, too.” Sirius scrunched his nose up in thought just as their timer went off and both sighed as they headed for the door. “It’s going to be hard to focus on practice when we know next to nothing about the wedding we’ve been planning for over six months.”

“We’re disasters.”

II: Four Weeks Before the Wedding

“We’re not putting that on the cards.”

“Why not?” Sirius frowned and looked down at the mock-up invitation. “It’s our initials. It’s cute.”

Remus blinked at him. “Sirius. Your initials.”

“Do you not want my initials on our joint wedding invitation?”

“I would love to have your initials on our joint wedding invitation, except for the part where it’s the same acronym as ‘son of a bitch’.”

Sirius paused, then groaned and put his hands over his face. “Fuck, I forgot about that.”

“You forgot your own initials?”

“I forgot the son of a bitch thing!”

“Okay, I clearly don’t tease you enough for that,” Remus snickered, wrapping an arm around his waist to kiss his cheek. “Alright, attempt number eight is a bust.”

III: Three Weeks Before the Wedding

Sirius ran his fingers gently through Remus’ hair, feeling him shift in the darkness. “What’s on your mind, mon amour?”

“Are we changing our last names?”

“Did we…not discuss that?” Sirius wracked his brain, but it was so exhausted from wedding topics that he came up empty.

“I don’t think so.” Remus scooted around so he was on his side, facing Sirius. “Both our names are super connected to our jobs. Plus, Lupin-Black might be a little long for jerseys.”

“I’d rather not go through the whole name-change process.” There was a beat of quiet. “Though I do like the sound of Sirius Lupin.”

Remus’ breath audibly caught and he leaned closer to Sirius, nuzzling against his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

IV: Eighteen Days Before the Wedding

Remus’ back hit the mattress with a soft bounce that was quickly stilled by Sirius’ weight pressing him down by the hips, his mouth skimming along all the right places on Remus’ neck. “Yes,” he hissed as Sirius ground down, their bare chests bumping together. He dipped his hands beneath the waistband of Sirius’ sweats and he shivered, nipping the hinge of his jaw.

“Wait,” Sirius gasped, pulling back to straddle Remus’ waist.

“What? Is this a flamingo moment?” Remus panted, still buzzing with arousal.

“Did we invite your parents to the wedding?”

Remus stared at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“I don’t think we did.”

“Sirius, you are literally about to—holy fuck, did we invite my parents?”

“I don’t know!”

Remus groaned and let his head fall back against the pillows before tapping Sirius’ hip and swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and dialed his mother’s number, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom, how’s it going?”

“Oh, it’s going fine out here. How’s wedding planning?” Hope asked. Remus could hear her smiling.

“That’s what I’m calling about, actually. Did you—” He bit his lip as Sirius’ fingertips trailed up his thigh. “Uh, did you get an invitation?”

Hope was silent for a moment, save for a few rustling sounds. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think so. Lyall! Honey, did Re send us a wedding invitation?” There was a low humming noise as his father responded. “He says we didn’t get one.”

Remus winced. “Sorry about that. I can text you the details, if you want.”

“Will you mail one as well? I want to put it in our memory box.”

Sirius’ hand slid further along Remus’ leg, growing closer to his inner thigh by the second and doing nothing to quell his frayed nerves. “Yeah—yeah, mom, we totally can.”

“Are you alright? You sound a bit out of breath.”

“Hattie was running around and being a little crazy.” Remus covered the speaker with his hand and turned to glare at Sirius, who grinned and kissed his cheekbone.

“Okay,” Hope sounded skeptical. “So you’re not getting sick or anything?”

“Nope. Healthy as a horse.” The last word came out a little breathless as Sirius licked a stripe up his neck and bit down on the junction to his shoulder, making Remus’ eyes flutter closed. He smacked Sirius’ hand halfheartedly and felt him grin.

“How’s Sirius doing?”

“Fine, he’s fine. We’re a little stressed with the wedding planning and everything, but things are good here.” Really good, he thought as the heel of Sirius’ hand pressed down just next to his dick. He swallowed down a moan and squeezed his eyes shut. “Alright, I’ll text the details to you this afternoon love you mom bye.”

“Love you t—”

A millisecond after the call ended, Remus slammed his phone into the nightstand and pushed Sirius into the sheets, bracketing his face with his elbows. “What the fuck was that?”

“I’m just keeping things interesting.” Sirius tugged his lower lip between his teeth and smirked, which really left Remus with only one option: kissing him senseless until he couldn’t even remember his own name.

V: Three Days Before the Wedding

Sirius’ leg bounced up and down nervously and he gripped Remus’ hand as they waited in the lobby of the vet’s office. “She’ll be okay.” His voice was noticeably higher than usual and he cleared his throat. “She’ll be fine. It’s just a cough.” A cough that’s been going on for four and a half days.

Remus hummed his agreement, though he hadn’t stopped twisting Hattie’s leash in his hands since they arrived. “Just a cough. Probably a cold, or—or something like that.”

The doors ahead opened and both of them stood as Hattie trotted out next to the vet tech, who looked rather amused. “What’s wrong with her?” Sirius asked, scanning her for any signs of illness. “Is she alright?”

“She is a very talented actress,” the vet said, rubbing Hattie behind the ears. She whined pitifully and cuddled into Sirius’ side. “Have you two been busy lately?”

“We’re planning for our wedding.” Remus looked as confused as Sirius felt. “Why?”

“Because Miss Hattie here is one of the healthiest, snuggliest dogs I’ve ever seen.”

“But she was coughing.”

“She was faking.” The vet knelt next to her and petted down her back, raising an eyebrow. “Weren’t you, munchkin?”

“Hattie!” Sirius exclaimed, torn between relief and shock. “You little monster!”

Remus frowned and tapped her forehead lightly as he slid her leash on over her head. “We were so worried about you! Why would you do that?”

“She’s probably been sulking because you’re busy with wedding stuff,” the vet said with a smile. “Quite the drama queen you’ve got there.”

“Tell me about it,” Sirius huffed as he kissed her head. “Don’t ever do that again, young lady. You’re in big trouble when we get home.”

“Thank you for your help,” Remus said, shaking the vet’s hand. “We really appreciate it and we’re so sorry for wasting your time.”

“Are you kidding? She was the best part of my day,” he laughed. “All the other techs can’t stop talking about Hattie cuddles now. Have a good one, you three.”

+1: The Lions, the Media, and the Locker Room

Word spread like wildfire in media circles, and the rumor mill had never worked harder once news of the Black-Lupin wedding came out.

Naturally, the Lions decided to have a little fun with it.

“Pots! Pots, what can you tell us about Black and Lupin’s wedding?” Four different microphones were shoved into his personal space, but James put on his best confused face.

“What wedding?”

A wave of murmuring spread through the reporters. “So you weren’t invited to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin’s wedding?”

“There’s a wedding?”

Across the room, two other interviewers mobbed Thomas Walker in his stall. “Talker, do you know anything about Black and Lupin’s wedding?”

“Who?” he asked with a perfect act of innocence.

“Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t think I know them, sorry. Are they fans?”

“Talkie!” Remus tossed him a towel from the adjacent stall, and he caught it with a grin.

“Heads up, Loops!” Talker threw it right back and headed toward the ice baths with a wink to the cameras. “Good chat, guys.”

One of the interviewers muttered under their breath and hurried over to Pascal, who was still unlacing his skates. “Dumo, when is the wedding between Sirius Black and Remus Lupin?”

Dumo frowned. “Quoi?”

“The wedding. You were invited, yes?”

“Desole, je ne parle pas l’anglais,” he said regretfully. “C’est un…wedding?”

“Yes, the wedding between your teammates.”

“These words, I don’t know them.” His French accent was almost comically thick as he shook his head. “Desole.”

Out of view of the cameras, Sirius gave him a thumbs-up and reached over to high-five Pots.

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kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

Bloody Artistry (M) ~🥀

pairing: celeb! kim taehyung x journalist! reader; minor pairings: jungkook x reader, coworker jimin x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 8K

Summary: when the scrutiny of fame becomes too much, perfect kim taehyung finds his peace within a lavish bathroom located two blocks away from the nearest club, a corpse in the bed with him. the fans have never questioned his behavior, not when his company is much too good at cleaning up his mess to not have done it before, but when a reporter with too many questions threatens to break the peace he’s established, he finds himself in a tango with the devil that he can’t bring himself to want to break.

[Warnings: MURDER, death, literally Taehyung being a sick bastard 25/8 (but only in fiction), company corruption, violence, yandere themes, mentions of noncon smut (intoxication, mentions of being drugged, fingering), blackmail, obsession, stalking. EVERYTHING that happens in this fic is FICTION; plz don’t go busting nuts for serial killers]

A/N: Thank you to yoongissugarmommy for requesting this! Part 1 of a short series starring Taehyung. Was going to do smth similar to Lineage with him, but this has been staying in my drafts for too long (like i wrote most of this before I even wrote Lineage, which is why my writing for part of this is a bit different from my current one), and I feel like going a bit modern now to take a break from Lineage (taking a bit to write pt. 4 just because it’s the end of the main story). Thank you for 2.9k followers! We’re only less than 50 away from 3K which is so wild to think about; kisses and hugs to everyone who’s supported my work!

“Today, in the studio, we have our nation’s golden boy, the first love of all of our viewers: Kim Taehyung. Everyone, please clap your hands for him!’’

The MC turned to grin at the audience as the audience cheered loudly; her glossy black hair swept down and framed her face delicately in perfect shiny strands. The lipstick that coated her unnaturally wide smile was a deep shade of red, stark against her pale white skin. Dressed in her primly pressed suit, she looked lovely, like a blooming rose, but as she turned to face the guest star, his presence seemed to easily outshine her own.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honor to have an interview here and have an opportunity to see all of my lovely fans,’’ Taehyung’s deep voice rang out as he smiled in his heart-swooning way, flashing pure-white teeth handsomely in a carefully maintained and practiced way that made all the fans, both in the studio and watching from beyond a screen, unable to resist letting out shrieks and screams.

“Now, Taehyung-ssi, with a record-breaking album that topped the charts as soon as it came out and a modelling gig that sells out magazines faster than before, how does it feel to have really made it? It must stress you out. Any tips on how to relax?’’

Taehyung leaned back slightly in his seat, his smile flashing coy for a brief second before settling into a rehearsed contemplative expression. He shrugged his shoulders, letting them drop out, as he made a soft hmm noise.

“How I relax? It’s not that big of a deal, really, but that’s an interesting question to ask, noona,’’ Taehyung widened his eyes slightly, looking ever so much like the golden boy persona he had stickered upon his reputation,’’ When I’m really, really stressed, I like to play with Tannie, my dog, and eats lots of yummy food that my mom sends to me when I get stressed. Also, my manager Namjoon is a good person to talk to when I’m really stressed; he always knows what to do and say.’’ Taehyung tapped the tip of his nose lightly, scrunching his face in an expression that made fans coo in adoration. “I also like to think of my fans and read all the letters they’ve sent me. I saved all of my letters from my beloved fans since my debut, and I like looking through them.’’

“Hey, Kim Namjoon, fucking hurry up,” Taehyung hissed into the cellphone pressed against his flawless cheek,” My shoes are going to get stained at this point. You know blood is a pain to properly get out of letter.’’

“Were you at least careful this time? We don’t want rumors getting out,” Namjoon’s voice crackled over the receiver, barely a hint of emotion in his voice. The beeping and honking of cars on his side of the phone call signaled the rush his manager was making towards his location.

Taehyung huffed in agitation, clicking his tongue sharply in annoyance as he skimmed his nails for any trace of dried blood. “Oh, come on, you think I really even care at this point? With the way the company takes care of everything, you’d think perfect ol’ me was…well perfect. But still, aren’t you guys way too good at this job? 7 girls and not even a peek from the public. Who else do you do this for, huh? Suga-sunbae? J-hope-sunbae?”

There was no reply. Taehyung threw his gaze over to the practically mangled body. Too bad, he thought to himself, she was really pretty this time. Red lipstick, silky black hair, wanted to become better acquainted with such a famous celebrity after her little interview, the whole fanatic spiel tied with a pretty bow of the title of an mc. She would’ve never thought that she’d go from being a bed-warmer to being so cold.

“I must be right then, huh? Suga-sunbae I can see, but J-Hope-sunbae…’’ Taehyung whistled lowly under his breath. “I thought you’d at least deny that. It’s the bright ones you gotta watch out for.’’

A dial noise was the only response. Did…Did this bastard hang up on him? Taehyung grimaced before three knocks rang on the door of the hotel suite, a signal from his asshole manager that Namjoon had finally arrived. Taehyung rolled back his shoulders, his joints crackling a little, and made sure all of his jewelry was perfectly back in place before he opened the door.

As Namjoon shuffled in with some of the staff members, Taehyung clasped his silver watch around his wrist with a soft click. He rolled his neck, trying to get the stiffness out of it, and exposed purple marks and bruises from the bites the now dead girl had given him when they had been fucking earlier.

Finally, his headache was gone.

You chugged down a cup of stale coffee and wiped the dribble of liquid that escaped the corner of your mouth as you clicked off some article about a newbie mc receiving slander after rumors of her making moves on a popular idol was exposed and disappearing to avoid the backlash. Squinting at your screen with dry eyes, you pursed your lips and snapped the laptop shut, pushing the device away from you in an agitated huff.

“Wbat’s got you in the gutters, huh? Let me guess…,’’ Park Jimin, your desk mate, rolled his chair over to your side, his glasses askew on his nose,” Ah, your favorite celebrity go into a dating scandal? Let me think, who was it that recently go into a scandal… Oh, is it that pretty boy from a new idol group?’’

You gave him the stink-eye, and your sigh this time was even louder.

“You’d think there’d be something more…interesting going with these celebrities that we could get our hands on. Too much money, lots of stress, yet no story that’ll really seize the audience by surprise, and don’t you dare say a dating scandal would do it. Boss’s been on my case for the whole week on writing an article to shock the audience and wants me to release a major headliner story in two weeks, or that asshole’ll fire me. Damn it, Kim Seokjin!” you hissed out before slamming your forehead onto the desk.

“Man, be careful with your volume; if he hears your tone, he’ll chew you out for another hour that you could be using to research. Boss Kim is picky like that with everyone because our company’s a small piece of seaweed in a system dominated by crustaceous predators.” Jimin poked you in the side jokingly, his plush lips spread in a wide smile that lit up his exhausted face. “Just think really hard; use that big brain of yours and focus on a celebrity. Come on, no one’s perfect, even that one super famous idol Kim Taehyung must have some flaws, so don’t sweat it.”

“That golden boy? Man, the whole nation’s pussy-whipped for him. He couldn’t possibly be anything bu—,’’ you sharply inhaled before pushing your seat back and rapidly swiveling to face Jimin,’’ Park. Fucking. Jimin. Oh my God, you’re a fucking genius! A whole career with not even a speck of dirt… Come on, even pure-faced idol Soyeon was caught with a scandal last month. There must be something on the nation’s golden boy!’’

Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise with your sudden outburst, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Be careful about the way you go when you try to fish out info on him. His company’s security isn’t something easy to get through, and not a single celeb from that company has gotten into a single scandal. No reporters been able to get any dirt from them…”

“Which means that…there’s something sketchy happening. Jimin, Jimin, have I told you I’m in love with you?’’

You turned around quickly in your chair, spinning in glee. Jimin dropped his mouth open to sputter something, and his cheeks were tinging red, but you weren’t looking at or even listening to Jimin at hat point, having already cracked open your laptop to furiously type Kim Taehyung into Naver. This was it! Your big break! Your motivation sky-rocketed, and you felt the first rush of energy that wasn’t fueled by some caffeinated drink in a long while.

Two hours later, you were ready to throw up.

All of the results were sickeningly the same bullshit, as what was expected for someone as beloved by the nation as Kim Taehyung was. You couldn’t fathom the amount of fancams and magazine spreads of him posing on some brown leather sofa and fact pieces—hell, you even knew what kind of socks the man liked—that you had spent the past hours scrolling through.

Realizing that the office was nearly empty, and that the sky was dimming into a dark hue, you were about to shut down your laptop and call it a long fucking day when a tweet on someone’s SNS caught your eye.

@truth-teller: kim taehyung? nation’s golden boy? are you all really sure about that nonsense?

The tweet was spammed with angered replies, so many that the thread seemed to stretch on for at least a mile, but your interest was piqued. This was the first word of slander you had ever witnessed against Taehyung. You quickly pounded out a message to the account.

@name_01: hey, I saw your tweet about taehyung! Do you perhaps have any more information on him? I find him suspicious too.

You tapped send and waited with bated breath for a reply. Minutes crept by, and you were about to turn off your phone and head out of work when you noticed three dots pop up, dancing before disappearing.

@truth-teller: you fr? I had to suspend my acc because of all the spam I got. No one’s believed me on it, but I have proof

You chewed on your lip. What if this was a joke, and you were just wasting your time on some internet troll with too much time on their hands. It seemed like you were taking too long to reply because another message popped up.

@truth-teller: if you don’t believe me then that’s fine. I don’t have to waste my time

@name_01: WAIT! Sorry, it took me a second to comprehend this information… Please tell me more.

You were worried that the account wouldn’t reply anymore, and that you had ruined your opportunity before the three dots popped up again and another message was sent.

@truth-teller: ok, if you want to find out more let’s move to a better messaging platform, just in case my acc gets suspended by more fans. here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

It was a gamble to send some stranger on the internet your number, but at this point, you were too desperate to really give a damn. There was a story just out of the reach of your fingertips; you would be a fool to deny the carrot on a stick you were being provided.

@name-01: okay, I’ll message you.

Name: hey! Truth-teller right? This is me from the messages

JK: yeah that’s me. I prefer JK when I’m not on sns tho

Name: I’m (y/n). I don’t mean to sound like I’m hurrying you, but I want to hear what you have to say about Taehyung.

JK: lol r u a reporter or smth? Real bossy of you keke

You sucked in a breath. Should you reveal that?

Name: haha would it be bad if I said I was?

There was no response for the next 15 minutes. Exhaling a long sigh, you decided that you should at least maneuver your way home; the office had been cleared out completely during your conversation with this JK, and you couldn’t help the creeps that the emptiness gave you. If anything, the walk back to your place would give you some outlet for the nervous energy radiating throughout you. You were nearly at the door of your apartment when your phone vibrated in your pocket, signaling a message.

JK: just checking. Makes sense that you’re one though. It’d be nice if you could break this story out, but I hope you trust me enough after I tell you what I know

You clicked the door shut behind you, your eyebrows creased as you stared at your phone screen.

Name: don’t worry. I trust you!

You dropped your bag down onto the sofa before throwing your body onto the seat. The three dots under JK’s name popped up for several minutes before disappearing. In the place of the three dots, a long message had been typed out.

JK: I didn’t really think much of taehyung when I first heard about him since he’s the nation’s golden boy or whatever bs title they call him nowadays, but my sister’s friend was a big fan of him. she went out with my sister and they met him in some shady club in gangnam. my sister’s friend got to talk to him exclusively and my sister got separated from her and got a text from her friend saying that she had smth come up and she already went home. she tried to contact her friend the day after, but she got a text back saying that her friend wasn’t feeling well. my sister’s friend was “best friends’’ with her but she didn’t contact my sister again until a week later saying she got a job opportunity overseas and already was about to board on the plane because it was important she got there fast. my sister’s friend didn’t contact her again like she dropped off the face of the earth

You pursed your lips in contemplation as you tapped out a message back, your nails clicking against the screen.

Name: ?? Are you sure that isn’t a coincidence?

JK: yeah, I thought so too but it was rly sus that my sister’s friend who had known my sister for 12 years to suddenly go overseas for a job opportunity without telling her at all. and when my sister tried to get new contact info from her friend there was no reply. but I got curious and since I do some computer work for my job i wanted to see if I could track the ip address of her phone but there was nothing. her last previous ip was all the way back in gangnam and my sister’s friend lived in incheon. that was a red flag so I decided to go talk to the landlord at my sister’s friend’s old apartment and the landlord said he didn’t see her come back since before that night but woke up to a fully paid lease and the apartment cleared out

You squinted your eyes at the screen, unable to properly process the information that this so-called JK had just given you. Chewing on your lip, you closed your eyes briefly before opening them back up and typing back a message.

Name: anything else? Sorry…just seems a bit far-fetched.

JK: think whatever then. I have to go to work now

Right when JK’s message popped up, another message pinged on your cell. You refused to let yourself ponder more on JK’s last message as you clicked on your friend’s text notification.

Platonic LOML <3: BAE, R U FREE TONIGHT? I’m lonely n want someone to come with me to this club— ik you’re not into clubs but pretty please

You were about to reply with a refusal when JK’s words came up to your mind again. You didn’t know why, but there was a sharp feeling in your gut that told you that you couldn’t miss this opportunity Call it silly intuition or some coincidental fabrication spurned by your mind, but that feeling persisted until you typed out a reply to your friend.

Name: okay fine. Come over in 30.

Taehyung swirled the liquid in his glass, watching the deep burgundy of the wine stain the glass a soft pink. His head was hurting again, and the new medication he had been taking for them on advice of the company didn’t work.

He scanned the dim, musty club, watching the pulsating lights cloak the dancing bodies in sallow shades of pale yellow. This club was a downgrade from his previous celebrity-exclusive club that he had gone to the previous week, but his manager had told him that if he really wanted peace, he should choose an area where no one would really know him.

Taehyung knew the real reason why his manager had insisted on this. Deaths of other celebrities were much harder to cover up after all.

Pity he actually followed his manager’s advice for once. The wine in here, despite the bougie price tag, was complete shit and provided him a slight buzz at best. And there was no one who really caught his eye out of the crowd of people. As he was about to get up from his seat and leave the club for somewhere with better—he contemplated going back to that celebrity club just to fuck with his company—pickings, he caught sight of someone entering the club.

You looked absolutely gorgeous, swathed in a black shift that you kept fighting to keep over your ass—and god, was it a plump ass too, the kind that made Taehyung’s cock hard in his tight black pants—with hair framing your face in a breathtaking way that showed glimpses of sparkling jewelry. Your friend, some chick with dyed green hair that Taehyung didn’t bother paying attention to, was clinging onto your arm, dragging you near the dance floor.

Taehyung knew.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

His head seemed to clear from the mind-numbing throb it always had when he spent too much time without another victim to take his aggression out of. Feeling the cool metal of the blade he always had tucked near his body, Taehyung sat back down in his seat, a playful smile perking at the edges of his lips. Funny enough, the blood thirst that never seemed to properly leave him was gone from his mind, an occurrence that was as rare as the pills the company liked shoving down his throat actually working for once.

You maneuvered your way over to the bar, to him, your friend pouting as she noticed you leaving before melting away into the crowd of grinding bodies. Taehyung swore then and there that the attraction between you and him was absolutely magnetic, with the way you seemed to pull the other towards one another.

He watched as you ordered some pretty-colored martini, adorably scrunching your face as the burn of alcohol coated your tongue and hit the back of your throat with a singe.

Maybe, Taehyung though to himself as he propped his chin lazily on his palm, he should really start listening to his manager more often.

Your mind was in a haze, and you didn’t even notice the man next to you until he was nearly pressed to your side, barely leaving a gap of space between the two of you.

You glanced at him, your tipsy mind suddenly sobering up as you realized who the man sitting next to you was. Kim Taehyung? What the fuck was he doing here?

“Another drink for a pretty lady?” Taehyung’s teeth showed as he charmingly flashed an award-winning coquettish smile at you, his already extremely handsome features seeming to increase in beauty from the grin.

You remembered JK’s words and a chill ran up your spine. God, his messages didn’t seem so implausible now, did they? Goosebumps rose up on your skin, freezing you to the bar table. Were…Were you his next victim?

You swallowed dryly as you tried to calm your racing heartbeat. The side of you that was a reckless journalist wanted to take a nosedive at the headliner just out of reach, but the rational side of you knew that leap of faith had a much bigger chance of you ending up disappearing off for a new job opportunity overseas, as Taehyung’s company would have it. You couldn’t write a good story if you were dead, after all.

“Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks,’’ your lips twitched slightly as you forced them into a hopefully convincing gentle smile, refusing his offer softly before moving your body casually a few inches away from him,” Having drinks bought by strangers isn’t really my thing.”

Your smile must’ve looked a hell of a lot less nervous than you actually felt and a lot more convincing too because Taehyung’s shoulders, which had previously been winded like he was a predator getting ready to pounce on prey, seemed to relax at your words.

There was a dark gleam in his eyes when he again invaded your personal space and pushed his body near yours. He leaned in and whispered softly into your ears, his voice clear despite the early 2010s hits blaring from the speakers by the dance floor.

“If you’re scared of strangers, why don’t we get to know each other a bit?’’

Your fake smile grew stiff on your face. You felt like you were going to hurl the convenience store meal of ramen that you had scarfed before coming to the club all over the bar and Taehyung’s expensive luxury bran clothes. You could feel a sense of dread in your bones, the kind a prey animal would feel as a predator focused its carnivorous attention on them.

You forced a fake laugh, trying to drive the message that you were just not interested to Taehyung as loud and clear as you could manage.

“No thanks; I have enough people I’m close to. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve left my friend alone for far too long on the dance floor.”

You pushed yourself off the bar table, flashing a strained polite smile before you headed over the dance floor, trying to keep your pace slow and steady instead of breaking out into the outright run you wanted to do.

Taehyung inhaled the linger scent of your perfume, a natural smell that sweetly layered itself over the damp musky air of the club. His eyes, even as you tried to focus on the pounding music and forget the fear embedded deeply in your gut, never seemed to leave your form. Even when you burrowed yourself deeply into the crowd away from his view, you could still feel it.

You found yourself painfully sober after that encounter, trying to look normal in front of your friend for the rest of the night that seemed to painstakingly drag on for eternity. Even when you had the short 2-minute walk from the cab you took to your front door, you didn’t stop looking over your shoulder, still feeling the chill that came with the thought of Taehyung’s gaze. When you got inside your home, the bubbling nausea in your stomach took control over you, and you ended up heaving your dinner down the toilet.

When you managed to somewhat pull yourself together, you typed out a quick message with practically shaking fingers to the only one you could think of in that moment would understand what you were feeling, You stared at your unsent message before hastily pressing send.Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Ping!

You barely managed to fall asleep that night, and your eyes painfully ached when you peeled your eyelids open, hurriedly grabbing your phone and turning it on to check your messages.

JK: what happened? Sry for late response. Job keeps me busy all night

Your fingers flew over the keyboard as you typed out your message, furrowing your eyebrows in concentration as you tried to relay the events of your night in hopefully comprehensible words.

Name: I went with my friend to some sketchy club idk what area at this point but I went to the bar and I felt someone come up to me ?? I turned and realized it was Taehyung, and he offered to buy me a drink but I declined. Makes me sick how I could’ve been his next victim, so I tried to leave and go back to where there was more ppl in the club, But I can’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes. There was something sickening in them, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

JK didn’t respond for a bit, and you exhaled a trembling breath when his message popped up.

JK: be careful. Im glad you managed to get away

Name: I’m scared. I didn’t know what to do, but hopefully I’ll never see him again once I get this scoop out.

JK: stay safe. Thx for telling me. Text me if anything else happens.

You let out a shaky breath before clicking your phone off, your nerves still rattled but slightly more calmed down after talking with JK. You had to get ready for work, but at this rate, you weren’t even sure how you would be able to get through the day. Maybe you should take a sick day? No, you couldn’t.

The elevator dinged closed behind you as you stepped out of it into the office. As you were about to take a seat at your desk, your boss rushed out of his office, relief, something he never showed to you, evident on his expression once he caught sight of you.

“(Y/n)! Come into my office; I have an important job for you,’’ your boss ushered you into his office without another word, practically pushing a baffled you into the room frantically,” You know the company that manages Kim Taehyung? They reached out and agreed to an exclusive one-on-one interview with Kim Taehyung only, and only, if you agreed to the interview.”

You stiffened, your body frozen as you tried to process the words your boss had just spoken. Your brain seemed to be running a marathon as you computed the words your boss said, and you could only meekly respond with a limp,” Why me? Can’t somebody…Can’t someone else take over? Boss…you know I’m not that experienced.”

Boss Kim barely paid any attention to your words as he rested a hand on your shoulder with a confident look on his face.

“Then, use this opportunity to get more experience. You want to show the world that you’re a journalist by getting a scoop? Then take this interview! You know the company never agrees to exclusive one-on-one interviews unless they’re all staged, but there wasn’t even talk of this being staged at all. If you can use this opportunity and get something big, won’t this be your biggest step towards a great journalist career?’’ your boss exclaimed,’’ If you back out, another chance like this won’t come again!”

As much of an asshole Boss Kim was sometimes, you could find the logic in his words. Besides, it must be a coincidence that Kim Taehyung wanted you specifically to give him an interview; maybe he wanted a newbie, so they wouldn’t have much experience trying to fish out personal details and twist his words.

That’s right. There was no way he even remembered what you looked like. You guys interacted for, what, a solid 2 minutes last night. And if you did this interview right, you could use it as a building block as evidence for the headliner you intended to release with what JK had told you.

You exhaled, nodding your head firmly.

“I will. I’ll take this interview.”

Boss Kim’s face brightened, making him look much more like the stereotypical handsome CEO character found in dramas. Since he always looked exhausted and stressed out, he always seemed more intimidating, an aura that seemed to scare off any thoughts about how gorgeous he actually was. You had to admit: your heart did flutter a bit at his face.

“Excellent! He’s waiting in the meeting room right now! You only need, what, six hours to prepare, right?”

Fuck, you take back that heart flutter. Boss Kim was an asshole.

“S-Sir,’’ you sputtered,” I can’t…’’

Before you even finished your words, Boss Kim was already ushering you back out of the office.

“I believe in you! You got this!”

He closed the door behind you. You swallowed back the mouthful of swears you wanted to spew before scrambling towards your desk.

You weren’t prepared, but you knew you would do anything for a scoop.

Exactly 6 hours and seventeen seconds later, you were primly seated in front of Kim Taehyung.

The seats were annoyingly too close, and you cursed Boss Kim in your heart, knowing that the reason why the chairs were placed in such an unprofessional manner was because Boss Kim wanted to create the perfect intimate setting for no cost. If you tried to extend your legs, you’d end up smacking them straight into Taehyung’s legs.

You, although disgruntled, had to admit that there was a reason why so many major brands wanted him as their model. He was handsome under the shitty lighting of the musty club last night, but here, with his hair and makeup carefully done despite the fluorescent lighting of the room, he was every synonym of the word beautiful combined into one person.

Blond strands of his hair brushed his chiseled features, and his eyes, curved attractively and framed with delicate long wisps of eyelashes, was intensely focused on your face. He looked ever like a marble statue, carved with attention and detail to be the most perfect specimen artistry could ever create. But he wasn’t perfect; that was what you knew. And that would also be what would you get just one step ahead of him.

You swept a piece of hair and tucked it behind an ear as you scanned your hastily scribbled notes. His eyes clung to that movement, as if he was mesmerized by your every action, and you peeked a look through your lashes. Your eyes met, and you forced a stiff smile.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you rolled your shoulders back into a proper posture, gingerly extending a hand out for him to take,” Good morning. It’s an honor to be able to do an interview with you.”

The edges of his lips tilted upward, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as his previous fiercely predatory state melted into the façade he put up in front of the public. He reached out and took your hand, throwing you off guard as he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“Likewise, it’s an honor to have an interview with you, (Y/n).’’

Yuck, you were going to have to wash your hands later. Anyways, what kind of person even kissed the back of people’s hands nowadays? This was the 21st century for fuck’s sake. You somehow kept your grimace to yourself.

You nervously laughed as you practically yanked your hand back out of his grasp. You casually wiped the back of your hand on the fabric of your skirt, disguising the movement as simply brushing off dust. Taehyung’s eyes didn’t leave any of your movements, and he laughed a little as he realized just what you were doing.

Oh, you were so interesting. You weren’t like the rest of them, the fans that threw themselves at him adoringly; hell, he was sure you weren’t even a fan. He was entranced. When he was close to you, the headaches seemed to fade; he didn’t want to drown himself in another body when he was with you. He didn’t want to kill when he was with you.

You ignored his burning gaze, breezing through the beginning parts of the interview. Finally, you reached the part that you had been anxiously preparing for.

“So, I heard that you’re trying out a new actor role. As a model and an artist and now an actor, we have to admit that your talents are incredibly versatile, Kim Taehyung-ssi.’’ You continued speaking. “Could you tell us a little more about this role?’’

“You flatter me too much, (Y/n).’’ He purposefully had left any formalities to the wind in this interview, a move that made you want to grind your teeth. “Yes, I was offered one of the leading roles in a new thriller movie. I’ll be acting as one of the charismatic but complex characters. I hope to show you and all of my fans a new side to Kim Taehyung.”

“Ah, a new side,’’ you nodded lightly,” Your new role as a charismatic serial killer who targets his admirers is certainly what many would call…complex. How do you go about preparing for such a twisted role?”

“Hmm…,’’ Taehyung’s lips curled up menacingly for a brief moment before fading away into a breezy smile,’’ It’s quite difficult to immerse myself into a role in which I have limited experience in, so I like to read through the script and make a map of what the character is like. What motivates him; what makes him so…complex, as you called it. I pretend to be like the character. How do I make myself think like him? That’s the question I like to try to find an answer to.”

“Ah, this is simply my personal opinion, but to truly play the character requires some true life experience…Is it possible that you’ve ever done anything similar to what the character has done in real life?”

A pin seemed to drop in that very moment from the silence that crowded the room. Everyone in the room froze and stared at you, their glances less than pleasant. You bore it all as you stared intently into his eyes. Slip up, you prayed, do something that will make you slip up. There was not even a brief soft sound in the 10 seconds that it took for Taehyung to respond.

He was rigid, the smile plastered on his face barely fading. Come on, you begged, expose yourself just a bit.

“Your response is lagging for just a bit, Kim Taehyung-ssi. It makes you seem guilty just a bit, doesn’t it?’’

He snapped out of it right then and there.

“I was simply contemplating my response. Your impatience is something not so befitting of a formal interview. To answer your question, isn’t a role just a role at the end of the day? If you think about it, I’m not the only person to have played a role like this. Many actors and actresses have done so without any thought of relating it to their real life. After all, a role is simply an imaginary self.”

You both stared into each other’s eyes, and you felt the gazes of other people around you burn into you.

You settled on a retreat. It was fine; this interview was just the first building block. You laughed lightly, throwing off the previous tense silence easily.

“Of course! We wouldn’t expect nothing but, right? We hope to see your talent truly shine through in this new role!’’

The tenseness in the room seemed to slip away right then, and the deathly gazes on you flitted away, like they were never there in the first place.

You let out a sigh as you left the interview room. God, that was terrifying, but you knew that you had to do what you had just previously done. What you had just done asserted the theory that you had. His company was hiding something about him, and that something was nothing less than downright horrific.

JK, you thought to yourself, I’m going to expose this story, just you wait.

“You weren’t just going to leave, huh?’’

You heard a familiar voice speak behind you, and you quickly spun around.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you forced out of your throat,’’ I believed you had already left.”

“I was going to, but I wanted to speak to you about the interview. The company rarely lets me do interviews, so it was really refreshing to have one done with you. We worked so well together, and I would like to thank you for the pleasant experience you had given me with dinner. You must be starving, right?’’

You had been starving earlier, but one word from Taehyung left your stomach churning in nausea.

“No!’’ your voice was a bit too loud, so you hastily softened it,’’ No, that’s not necessary. You don’t need to thank me.”

Taehyung took steps closer to you, and you unconsciously took a step back. Noticing your movements, he looked at you and flashed a grin that might’ve looked harmless to others but outright menacing to you.

“Are you scared of me?’’ his voice was almost like a purr. You fought back a shiver, straightening your back and looking him straight in the eyes.

“No,’’ you stabilized your voice, keeping a waver out of it,” Why would I be scared of you? You’re not some higher being than me just because you’re a celebrity. You’re human, after all. But, as you can see, I have work to do, so I will have to politely decline your offer.”

“You can have the rest of the day off.”

You spun around on your heels, your gaze colliding with Boss Kim’s. When did he arrive?

“Sir! Boss! No, if I skipped out on work, I’d be a burden to everyone. Besides, I—,’’ your voice was cut off by another voice.

“It’d be good to establish a positive relationship between your company and ours. Your boss would usually be the one to go to a dinner, but I believe he already has plans. Any work you were unable to fulfill today will be taken care of.”

The voice seemed to chill you to the bone. You turned to make eyes with a man. Was he…Taehyung’s manager? Although he was handsome, the kind of handsome that was comparable with Taehyung’s, something about him churned your stomach. While Taehyung was like a predator waiting to pounce on his prey, the man behind this voice was already sinking his teeth into the neck, wringing out the… You snapped out of your thoughts.

Snap out of it, you mentally scolded yourself.

“How about it?’’ Taehyung’s manager coldly smiled, his tone like glaciers.

You opened your mouth to try to refute, but with the burning gaze from your boss, you could only dip your head in a bow, your voice low.

“Thank you for the offer. I accept.”

They couldn’t kill you, right? It’d be too obvious.

You followed them out, and when you passed by Boss Kim, you made a panicked glance at him. What greeted you made you halt briefly in your pace.

When Boss Kim made eye contact with you, he patted your shoulder in what should’ve been reassurance. His lips spread out in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t disappoint me, hmm?’’

His words, spoken low and steady, left a chill in your veins as you kept walking, and the sliding doors of the elevator dinged close behind you, effectively trapping you with Taehyung and his manager.

You somehow made it out of the elevator and through the tense car ride alive. Now, you were seated next to Taehyung himself in the private room of a restaurant. Smoke rose from the grill, briefly obscuring your view of his manager from across you.

You tried to think positively of the situation. If Taehyung was drunk, maybe he’d slip up, but…you made a furtive glance at his manager from across the grill, slightly jolting when your eyes collided with his own. The fear that nearly overcame you made you nauseous.

“A drink?”

Taehyung’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned to see him already raising his glass. You stiffly smiled, barely managing to keep the nervous twitch out of the curves of your lips.

“I don’t drink.”

“It’s impolite to decline a friendly offer. Come on, a toast to a wonderful…partnership.” Taehyung chuckled, raising his glass, as he leaned his chin onto the propped palm of his hand,” And we wouldn’t want a bad start to it.”

You were panicking by now, but you could imagine what Boss Kim would say if Taehyung’s company pulled out because of something so miniscule. You couldn’t afford to lose your job, not with the way you had fought tooth and nail to get your position; you wouldn’t last a month without your job or the meager protection it gave you.

You made your decision, a decision you would’ve done anything else but avoid, and tilted the glass up, clinking it against Taehyung’s glass. Turning away, you made it look like you were lightly sipping the drink, but you only allowed the liquid to slightly wet your lips. You set down the still-full glass and smiled pleasantly.

“I can only drink this much. Anymore, and I would experience terrible side effects.”

Taehyung didn’t seem even irked by your feeble attempt at pretending; instead, his eyes filled with amusement. He didn’t stop staring at you, and the threatening vibe of it caused you to unconsciously delve into your habit of gripping your glass of water and drinking it in an attempt to calm your nerves.

You placed the empty glass back down before resuming anxiously picking at your food. A pair of chopsticks—specifically Taehyung’s chopsticks—placed a piece of barbecued meat on your bowl of rice.

“Not feeling hungry? You need to eat. Skipping meals is bad for your health,’’ Taehyung beamed as he watched you carefully pick up the piece of meat and eat it. It would’ve been delicious any other time, but the churning in your gut made it taste like sand in your mouth. You dryly swallowed it.

“I’m heading to the restroom.”

You heard Taehyung’s manager speak in his flat tone, and you threw a skittish glance at him as he stood up and walked out of the private room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

“Ah, now that that nuisance is out of the way, why don’t we talk more?’’ Taehyung’s tone was playful, and you flinched as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing against the outer shell of your ear.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you gritted the name through your teeth,” Please respect my personal space.”

He laughed lowly before he dropped a hand on your thigh. You were about to make a move to push him away, but your body suddenly felt tired, like you weren’t quite in control anymore.

“Come on, do what I say, and your little news company will do so much better. Your boss didn’t tell you this, but your company’s going bankrupt. One peep from me, and your company will rise in ranking, but I can only do that if I’m in a…happy mood.”

Taehyung pressed even closer to you, his nose against the curve of your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply in. His hands moved from his side and he ripped open the buttons of your shirt, groping your bra-covered tits. You let out an incoherent mumble in response, trying to flimsily kick at him.

Where was the waiter? Why was his manager taking so long? They planned this!

Disgust and heat coiled in your gut, but you were too dizzy to move. Something…that bastard…Did he spike your water? You were too careless, fuck. Taehyung moved one hand to tilt your chin up before his lips met yours. Despite how sloppy of a kiss it was, you could tell he was experienced, practically tasting every inner crevice of your soft mouth with his tongue, and you should’ve continued to be revolted, but whatever pill in your system had you melting into his mouth.

Taehyung seemed to sense the turmoil and conflict in you and the soft give of your will, and that seemed to make him even braver. He slid a hand up your skirt, his touch hot even through the fabric of your stockings, and you let out a startled moan against his lips, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth. He pulled back, and you could barely see through the teary haze of your eyes. It had been too long since the last time you had a good fuck. You just wanted to be touched…wanted to be fucked so hard his cock would press against your womb.

“I just want to see you let go a bit, baby,’’ there was the triumph of domination in his voice. The sober part of you wanted to rebel, wanted to push and scream and kick him away, but you weren’t sober, weren’t clear-minded. Your legs spread as if begging for more of his touch.

He ripped his fingers through your stocking, and the material easily gave way underneath his strength. You could feel the damp spot on your panties, growing as he rubbed his fingertips against your drooling pussy. You shivered slightly in delirious pleasure as his finger rolled over your throbbing clit.

“Mmph!’’ you let out a sound as he pushed your soaked panties to the side and pushed his fingers deep into your pussy. You couldn’t object, not when your pussy was stretching with a spine-tingling ache around his fingers, and especially not when he begin to set a teasing pace. He pushed his fingers in, and you shut your eyes in shame as your moans grew louder.

Your toes curled as his movements grew faster, reaching deep into you, and you were so, so close. Oh my god you could feel…and you were cumming hard. Your walls shivered and twitched around his still moving fingers, and you murmured a dazed plea as he finally stilled and pulled his fingers out. You, still twitching from how hard you came earlier, were ashamed to see the way his fingers glistened with the remnants of your arousal and orgasm.

The sound of his pants being unclasped drew you out of your drugged state. No, he wasn’t going to…Come on, snap out of it, snap out of it.

He drew back closer again, and you sucked in a breath, trying to push through your daze. He leaned in. You managed to bring your arms up to the table, grabbing the nearest object that you could reach. Your trembling fingers closed around your nearly empty water glass, and you took it, raising it and smashing it as hard as you could over his head. Water, ice cubes, and glass shards struck as the glass broke. Taehyung, not expecting the blow, had a temporary moment of weakness, and you managed to push him off you.

You shoved yourself up onto shaky legs, wrapping the ripped blouse around your weakened body, and forced yourself into a run outside of the room. The hallway of the restaurant around the private rooms was empty, devoid of any person. You frantically looked over your shoulder, relieved that you didn’t see him coming after you. This was a public place, though it was late at night, and you knew Taehyung wouldn’t risk his perfect reputation. But still, you remembered his manager was still out there.

You couldn’t let them kill you…You had to survive! You broke into a blind run, ignoring the strange looks and the calls you got from the restaurant’s staff as you pushed out of the restaurant into the street. You kept running despite the dizziness of your mind, and you could barely see what was in front of you before…You crashed into someone, slamming into their body so hard that you were sent sprawling to the ground.

“Please…,’’ you choked out, your voice strangled, crying out a desperate plea as you grabbed onto their clothes,’’ Please help me.”

Your mind was dizzy, splotches of colors splattering your blurry vision. Your body had overexerted yourself, and you prayed that you wouldn’t end up a dead body on the news as your grip around the clothes went lip, and you collapsed into the road. Through the buzzing of your ears, you could hear a startled voice call out, feel a firm touch grab your shoulders and try to shake you awake. Some strange hope rose in you; maybe…maybe…?

You murmured desperately one last mumble, your words barely making sense, as you spiraled into unconsciousness.

“JK…please help me.”

A/N: if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part, reply with a ❤️. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment or a detailed review below <3

Next work will be a fic for Jungkook’s upcoming birthday. Poll will be released soon for what kind of plot it should have!

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depressedacadamia · 3 years

Text

A kiss would be nice

Summary: Magnus develops feelings for his roomate and has no idea what to do; when theres' some serious miscommunication, Alex and Magnus have to solve an obvious problem.

Pairing: Fierrochase

A/N: THIS WAS MY FIRST EVER REQUEST!!!! I swear I'm gonna organise my Masterlist on tumblr coz its a hot mess rn and then I will get a prompt list up. Anyway, I hope this lives up to the expectations of the request- enjoy and comment!

Read on A03 M;List

Magnus liked Alex.

How exactly was he meant to process this?

Yes. Alex was sometimes a girl and other times a boy but what did it make him?

He could remember the moment Alex came floundering into his life, confident about who she was and Magnus could only think about how much he didn't know about himself. It was ridiculous, in his opinion, to think that he fundamentally changed as a person just because he liked someone.

So why did he feel so scared to come to that conclusion that he did in fact like Alex?

“What are you thinking so hard about over there, pretty boy?” Alex asked dryly as he scrolled through his phone while he dangled off the top bunk of their dormitory. Startled, Magnus snapped his head towards Alex and with no game whatsoever stuttered a terrible lie.

“Uh- Uh, nothing.”

“Uhu,” Alex emphasised. “ So that totally wasn't a lie.”

“Yes, Wait, I mean no- wait,” Magnus stuttered out again, his hands beginning to fidget and his palms becoming sweaty.

Alex simply raised an eyebrow before softly sighing and returning to his phone scrolling. He knew that Magnus wasn't the kind to keep secrets in a malicious manner- if he wasn't spilling something, it was because he didn't feel comfortable and Alex knew as well as anyone else that if Magnus was uncomfortable, nothing was spilling from his lips.

Clenching his fists in finality, Magnus got up, accidentally banging the top of his head on the top bunk above him where Alex was elegantly dangling off, his hair defying the laws of gravity by maintaining its rightful position on his head. He rubbed his head, swore under his breath and continued to make a bashful exit from the dorm room.

Alex could tell that something was definitely up.

Sure, Magnus was weird- he sometimes came back home at incredibly odd hours, always seemed relatively silent when one were to ask him where he had been and he almost always wore his lengthy blonde hair in a way that covered the majority of his face; in fact, Alex had thought about tilting his chin up just so he could get a better view of his elegant features.

So what exactly was it causing his roommate to act so oddly?

Magnus was in the bathroom. In fact he was hiding out in one of the stalls, trying his best to avud Alex at all costs. What had started out as a way to skip the horribly boring parts of his classes, now became a full blown ritual in which he would run away to his favourite bathroom stall- the one by the very end, next to the hand blow dryers, were his favourite but also alarmed him because it was there where he could hear whether anybody really washed their hands and there was an alarming amount of evidence which contradicted so.

He would take a book or sometimes just plug in his earphones to listen to music as he essentially hid out in the stall. Sometimes, when he felt a bit more confident- and knew Alex would be off campus- Magnus would hide out in the library; a much more comfortable and all round better smelling place to read, study and or listen to music.

But now as he slowly emerged from the stall after hours of sitting, heading back towards his room, Magnus could only feel this inevitable feeling of impending doom. He had managed to distract himself from the Alex situation for so long and now, he was about to crumble.

It was only a matter of time.

“Magnus?” A familiar and - dare I even say- dreaded voice asked him.

Glancing through the blonde locks of hair which curtained his face, he caught a glimpse of familiar green hair which he had been avoiding.

“Huh?” He managed to mumble.

Alex frowned. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.”

Magnus’s eyes widened- he had left his phone on silent as he didnt want to deal with others. “I-you did? Sorry.”

“That doesn't matter now. Where have you bee- actually nevermind that as well, come on, we need to get back, it’s already late and I know you have an early class tomorrow.”

Magnus hesitated.

Alex noticed. He refused to stay silent about the matter any longer.

“Okay. Spit it out. “

“What!” Magnus stammered. “ Spi- spit what? Spit wh- what out exactly?”

“The reason you’ve been avoiding me? Did I forget to do my chores or something? Or did I accidentally make some sort of mess of your stuff?”

“No- No, of course not!”

“So?”

Magnus found himself too enamoured with Alex’s features to respond. He could feel the bubble bath slowly overflowing inside his mind. What did it mean if he liked Alex? Was he now a completely different person? What did it matter if he liked Alex?

Wasn't he just like everybody else?

But Magnus’ mind told him that it was so obvious that Alex was in fact not like everybody else, otherwise why was it Alex whom he couldn’t keep his eyes off of? If Alex was so like everyone else, why was it his eyes that Magnus always wanted to stare at, why was it Alex’s hair that Magnus always wanted to ruffle or Alex’s hand that he always wanted to hold?

Why was it always Alex whom he wanted to hug when he was having a bad day?

So when he looked back at Alex, he felt the overwhelming need to throw himself and wrap his arms around Alex so tightly that Alex would have trouble breathing and then - in Magnus’s perfect world- Alex would also wrap his arms around Magnus and they would hold each other in their arms and stand their leaning on each other.

“Nothing,” Magnmus mumbled as he came back to reality.

He walked past Alex, eager to get back to their dorm and just sleep his feelings away- something he was used to doing thanks to his years of being homeless. He wasn’t about to escape when a slender hand wrapped itself around his wrist and dragged him backwards.

“No.” Alex huffed almost angrily. “You’re not running away from me,not again.”

Magnus could have sworn- looking back- that he may have let out a squeak.

“You are avoiding me Mister and I’d like to know why. It’s bad enough that you spend all your time hiding in the bathroom stalls, it’s even worse that you're doing it to avoid someone as fabulous as myself. So if we could quickly get this over with, It would be greatly appreciated and I’m sure it would relieve your nostrils as well.”

“I-”

“You…?”Alex prompted.

“Ilikeyou.”

Alex paused, scrunched up his nose before raising an eyebrow in ridicule and letting out a laugh. And while Magnus truly believed there was nothing more beautiful than Alex’s smile, right now, it was the most damning thing he had ever seen.

Of course Alex would be laughing! Who wouldn't be laughing if some weedy, shady blond kid confessed their feelings for them in the most pathetic way possible!

Magnus had no other choice but to clench his fists to resist the burning sensation gathering in his eyes as he turned on his heel and hurried back to his dorm.

He was curled up on his bed, binging criminal minds on his laptop because what else was meant to comfort you after getting rejected if it wasn’t watching people getting brutally murdered by psychopaths and sadists?

He was wrapped with this specific episode- involving a bunch of very explicit murder- when Alex snatched his headphones right off his head plopped himself in the computer chair that rested right next to the bottom bunk where Magnus had been hiding out.

He could feel himself paling as he remembered that he lived with Alex.

“We need to talk.”

What? He was so sick of Alex making every decision, afterall- it was Alex who chose to laugh at him.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Magnus managed to snap back.

“Why do you keep avoiding me? First in our own dorm, then in public and now you don't even want to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” He retorted, his words coated with so much sarcasm, had there been anymore, he may have become Samirah at that very moment. “Was I expected to hang around after being ridiculed?”

“Ridiculed? What do you mea-”

“-What do I mean? I guess you wouldnt understand what it feels like for someone whom you really really like to outright just laugh at you after confessing. I guess you don't know how- how nerve racking and horrible it is to not feel comfortable and safe wherever you go. I guess you were privileged enough to not deal with doubting yourself with every decision you make and every thought you have!”

Alex started. “I-”

“-No. I’m not finished. Do you know how that made me feel?” Magnus was on a roll. “ Like shit. I felt shitty. I felt like shit and I was curled up like a bratty 5 year old and do you know what I’ve realised? I’ve realised that I have nob reason to feel shitty because I'm not the one who was so insecure in myself that I laughed at someone else who was struggling, esepcially when I rejected a hot piece of ass such as myself!” He finished his ramble with a shout, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed and somehow, his hair messy.

“So,” Alex drawled causally. “ Am I allowed to speak now?”

“No.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex sooke anyway. “ I’m sorry that you feel this way and I guess I can't change that I was the person who made you feel like- well, shit, but I have to say Beantown, you really shouldn't assume things so quickly.”

Magnus frowned, turning his shiny, glossy eyes towards Alex finally. “Huh?”

“Well. If you were to give me a chance to explain, I’d be able to tell you that I laughed because I thought you looked adorable. I would be able to tell you that I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in any way and I’m very sorry if I did and…”

Alex held Magnus’ chin, pulling his head a bit down so he was able to fully look him in the eye rather than just looking away under Magnus’ chin, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“And…?” Magnus whispered hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

“And, I would be able to tell you that I like you.” Alex smiled dopily.

Did Magnus hear that correctly? Did Alex Fierro- the most confident, and in Magnus’s eyes, the most attractive person out there just admit to liking the scraggly kid who used to live on the streets?

“Excuse me?”

Aex sighed. “I said that I like you and your … What was it you said?” He paused for dramatic effect because lighting up his eyes. “ Oh yes and your ‘hot piece of ass’ I believe it was.”

Magnus cringed at his previous words as he started at Alex. Alex fierro liked him!

“What?” Alex smirked on noticing Magnus’s innocent stare.

“Can I try something?” Magnus tilted his head to the side innocently. Alex nodded.

Yes, please do try something, A kiss would be nice.

But to Alex’s surprise, he felt Magnus’s arms being wrapped around his body. It was an odd sensation that at first made Alex want to reel backwards.

But then this familiar ignition in his stomach tugged him back to wrap his arms back around Magnus and bury his face in Magnus’s chest, just about reaching his collarbone.

The hug was brief. Perhaps not even longer than 15 seconds at a maximum, but it was enough for Magnus to feel better.

Alex decided that perhaps next time Magnus would kiss him.

Super cool people Taglist: @wisegirl773 @ddepressedbookworm

#Magnus chase #Alex fierro #fierrochase #Magnus x Alex #Alex x Magnus #Magnus chase fluff #fierrochase fluf #fierrochase angst #Magnus chase angst #Alex fierro fluff #Alex fierro angst #I think I’ll write a part 2 #mcaga #mcaga fanfic #mcaga fluff #requests #phi phi’s requests!#send me requests!

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thatslikely · 3 years

Text

Mill Boy - F.W.

Mill Boy- Fred Weasley x fem!reader [1800s muggle!au]

warnings: mentions of child labor

word count: 3.4k

a/n: probably part one of a minseries? y/n and fred are about 10-11 in this so part ii could possibly be a timeskip

“Mum, can I go play? Please?” you pleaded, doe eyes shiny and prominent. Your mother, a hard working housewife, was bent over the sturdy kitchen table, dousing dirty dishes in scalding water, preparing them to be piled with the beef warming in the flames of the stove across the airy kitchen.

“Fine, Y/N, just please don’t get your dress dirty. Your father worked hard to afford such a fine cotton. He wouldn’t be pleased to see it ruined, now would he?” You eagerly nodded in agreement, ready to go enjoy the meadows lying across the walls of your humble residence. It was a beautiful spring day, most enticing one yet. Birds fluttered through the lush, brilliant cedar trees, enjoying the tranquil air that comes with the season. Ox-eye daisies dotted the expansive hills, all the way down to the slowly trickling creek.

You slipped your muddied boots over the clean, cotton socks adorning your feet, grabbing your hat to shield your youthful eyes from the golden star above right after. You slipped it over your locks, which were neatly tied into pig-tails with silky, baby pink ribbons Mother bought you for your birthday.

You skipped through the propped back door, little giggles of delight humming through your throat. Any traces of the harsh winter that stormed the land only a few months prior were washed away with the glimmering sunlight, which coerced the wildflowers to bloom from buds to petaled cups of sweetness.

With a smile, you followed a path of vibrant, woolly blue violets, carefully plucking their stems for a nice arrangement to become the perfect centerpiece for dinner. The colour, in your opinion, complimented the pastel pinks of your dress perfectly, filling you with even more glee. How you wished that you could spend all your time out of the confines of buildings, having fun and being free of responsibility.

It was most unladylike to go splashing in the cool water of the stream, and you would surely be scolded for it if you chose to do so. You had attempted to conceal your submersion in the winding brook once before, but the liquidy footprints you left on the floors of your house quickly outed your escapade. Fearing another stern talk, which was not pleasant in the slightest, you simply skipped to its edge, astutely observing its reflective surface with admiration.

The crystalline liquid glossed over smooth stones adorned with moss so peacefully, its pace never wavering, not even for a second. The mere idea of something perpetually in motion, never having to stop and take a break, as you did many times after a long day of running in the fields, chasing butterflies, astounded you.

Everyone had to go to sleep, or stop for a breath every once in a while, right? Scampers, the stray which adored your family’s covered porch, went to bed at odd times, most often at noon. And yet, he still slept. The grocer down the lane kept his shop attended every time you’d visit, but the windows would soon be curtained and dim when the moon came out to rule the seemingly never ending sky.

You prodded the cool creek with your finger, letting the water continue to flow past it unbothered, as if it were nothing but another stray twig. The thirst for answers dripped down from your mind, enveloping your body in a sensation that couldn’t be mended by simply drinking the water. You were amazed, and you had to see more, know more. You followed the bends of the stream, far beyond the view of your house.

Nobody had ever outright stated that you shan’t see where it goes, where the water ends, so naturally you had to discover it yourself. Maybe you’d be met with a secret alcove, your own private pocket of the boundless world. Alternatively, maybe you would stumble across a small house entangled high up in the branches of a tree, and fly up to its entrance like a fairy from a tale recited before bed. Or even, most enticing of all, maybe there was a prince waiting for you where the water ends; a prince who’d sweep you off your feet, offering you a chance to live in a magnificent castle situated in a far away land.

You hummed songs that your frilly-dressed peers would chime in unison during recess, filling the still air. The toes of your boots leaped from one large rock to another, balancing on their flat surfaces like a game of hopscotch.

The soft, sweet humming echoing through his cove from a ways down the creek instantly perked Fred’s curiosity, luring him in like a siren’s song. He halted his stick-poking of the ants inching up the burly trunk of the ancient tree, swinging his gingered-head down, so his vision lay unobscured by the low-hanging branches.

No one ever came to visit Fred when he lay slouched in the safe, knotted branches of his tree; whether it was because his family couldn’t locate him or the fact that they were aware that he needed a break, he didn’t know. Days spent in the mill were painful and excruciatingly long, so during the few spare moments he had to himself, he’d spend it talking to the lush wildlife surrounding him. He’d never be talked over by the weeds or birds, they’d just sit and listen, exactly what he needed.

He nearly fell to the grassy ground trying to find the source of the melodic songs, curious to see who dare disturb the previously hidden Fort Fred. He imagined himself as a skillful militiaman, like his brothers, ready to charge and overtake the enemy, even if the music-maker was nothing near a threat.

Just as he was about to jump down to investigate on his own two feet, the source was finally revealed. An absolutely beautiful girl- a princess, rather, approached the tree. She was dressed in a light pink gown, as if she had just come back from a royal ball. Her singing brought serenity all around, as if she were somehow communicating with the birds and butterflies, allowing them to chirp and flutter along. At the same time, however, her well-loved boots and hat altered her look to something of a daring adventurer, exploring the unknown paths of thicket.

“Hello,” you said angelically, clasping your hands together across your waist. You were completely surprised to meet a companion on your previously solo expedition, and a dashing, amiable one at that.

You’d never seen this particular boy at school before; he seemed different than all your icky male peers. The boys at school would tug on your pigtails during tests, claim you were infested with disgusting germs at recess, and chase you around the yard tauntingly. But this boy’s features resonated nothing but kindness: the crinkles around his eyes from smiling, light orange freckles all across his nose, his shaggy, fiery red hair topped with a patched-up flat cap.

Maybe there was a prince at the end of the brook after all.

The friendly-appearing boy hopped down from his perch in the tree, smoothing out the wrinkles and leaves in his suspendered trousers and white button up with a suspicious look. “And who would you be, miss?”

“Erm- my name’s Y/N. What’s your’s?” You couldn’t help but smile, and your cheeks prickled as if a ladybug were crawling across them.

He stepped closer to you, his composure open and honest. “I’m Fred, Fred Weasley. I live down the way, near the mill.”

“Nice to meet you, Fred Weasley.” You did a proper courtesy, just as you had been taught so many times before, then adding, “what’s a mill?”

Fred’s jaw dropped, as if it had no hinges. “You’re joking, right? You don’t know about the mill? I work there just about every day of the week.” He pointed further down the creek, opposite the direction of your house, astonishment swimming in his mahogany brown eyes.

“I’ve never heard anything of the sort. What do you do in a mill, exactly?”

“Well, there’re these big, loud machines that're always moving. They get power from this huge wooden wheel upstream that’s always spinning. They make tons of pieces of fabric out of wool. Maybe I even weaved some of the cloth used to make that very dress you’re wearing right now.”

You marvelled at his descriptions, even the simple way he spoke, articulated his words. Those utterly despicable boys at school would’ve just stuck their tongues out at you disrespectfully, not giving you the time of day, but Fred couldn’t be more different. He spoke to you as if you two were something of equals.

“Oh wow.” You were barely able to suppress a flustered giggle. Why were you feeling so, mushy around Fred, the sensation comparable only to the consistency of porridge? “I didn’t know you were so talented to do that.”

“Aww,” -he blushed, scratching the nape of his neck- “I mean, it’s not too difficult, you could probably do it if you tried. After a while ‘course.”

“Nonsense.” You not-so-nonchalantly rubbed your palms up and down your dress, noticing beads of perspiration accumulating on them. While doing so, the bushel of hooded violets resting in your pocket became evident. You pulled one from your stash, saying, “do you want one of my flowers? I picked them down near my house.”

Fred swore at any moment, if anything were so much as to touch him, he would burst. He’d never experienced these, admittedly strange, feelings before. It felt like his last meal wouldn’t settle in his stomach, or as if he’d just run a horse’s distance by the way his heart was pounding out of his chest. Was he sick? Should he go tell mum?

“I, erm, of course,” he stuttered, barely capable of moving his lips to form coherent words. “You have e-excellent taste in flowers, miss Y/N.”

“Thanks. I picked plenty, for a nice centerpiece at home. Mum always loves flowers.” You fiddled with the frills and layers of your dress, doing something to occupy your energetic fingers. Fred studied the flower intently with his brows furrowed, tugging on its petals and anthers.

After Fred was satisfied with his examination of the violet, he said, “you know, there’s some really pretty yellow flowers growing down by the mill. They’d go perfectly with these here.”

“Will you take me?”

“Of course I will. We’d best get going, though. Don’t wanna miss dinner.” Fred gestured for you to follow his lead, walking through the knee-high blades of grass as if he were wading through a river. When he quickly noticed your look of apprehension, not wanting to dirty your dress or have an unwanted animal encounter, he grabbed your palm with a grin, forcing you to trail behind him.

You two distantly followed the path of the creek, adventure flowing through both of your veins. Fred’s grip on your hand was gentle, despite the calloused patches scattered over his skin, no doubt a result of the ‘large machines’ he described working on in the mill.

After a while of giggling and jogging, the distant outline of a building across the stream was visible. Its four walls were composed of rough, grey stones used as bricks; it’s roof was sealed with jagged pieces of slate, some out of place. But the biggest surprise came not with the building itself, but to the right of it. A humongous, wooden wheel spun through the rill, rhythmically splashing the previously tranquil water as it continued flowing. It was as if everything today was out of a fairy tale, but this was the most outlandish of them all. A giant wheel, spinning in pace through the water?

“Well, we’re here.” While Fred usually dreaded returning back to the mill, as his time within the confines were never pleasant, tolerable at best, he was glad to be here with company and a different mission. He wasn’t going to be making fabric today, no, he was on the search for bundles of corn-yellow flowers, with the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on. True royalty, a princess through and through.

“Wow. That wheel’s ginormous! How does it work?” This time, it was your mind that curiosity flooded, and it ceased to relent.

“Erm, I don’t exactly know. All I know is that the creek pushes the wheel, for some reason. I’ll ask Dad about it sometime, he’ll know.” You nodded appreciatively, satisfied at the promise of an answer.

“Now what do you say we go find some of those flowers?”

“Yes please!” You started peering around the water’s edge, attempting to spot any signs of cheerful, yellow flowers.

While you continued digging through ferns and bushes, searching for gold, Fred enchanted you from a distance across the shaded meadow. “I think my brother Percy said that the flowers are called Golden Alexanders. He’s one to always go a bit heavy on books during his breaks.”

‘You’ll have to ask your brother how they got their name. The first part’s fairly obvious, the Alexander portion not so much.”

“I’m gonna have to ask everyone in my family questions if I keep showing you new things by the looks of it,” he giggled, walking around the grassy plateau with his hand shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

“Teacher always tells me during lessons, ‘curiosity killed the cat’-”

“Poor kitty,” Fred muttered.

“-But satisfaction brought it back. So you best bring me back some answers tomorrow, because I don’t exactly fancy dying.” Fred’s eyes widened with his new, highly-important mission. “I’d at least wish to go out in a heroic way, not at the hands of my own unquenched curiosity.”

“That’s quite the big word.”

“I know, I learned it the other day!” you giggled, covering your toothy grin with your hand. “Isn’t it cool?” Fred responded with a handsome, wide smile and concurring nod. His eyes were filled to the brim with joy; they reminded you of warm evenings sitting around the crackling fire charring logs and embers.

You scourged through the brush for a while longer until the soothing trickling of water was interrupted by Fred’s distinct voice, shouting, “Oh, I think I found some o’er here!”

You skipped to Fred’s direction, the toes of your boots patting the grass lightly. Fred was leaning down over a small patch of Golden Alexanders, watching a few bumblebees buzz between the central stigmas protected in the wreaths of small petals.

Without thinking, you swiftly wrapped your arms around Fred, his back pressed to your chest tightly. “Thank you, Fred. These’ll look great. You’ve got quite the eagle eye.” Your cheeks burned, and your soft arms were swept with tiny goosebumps.

“It’s no problem, really. I’m just glad you’re happy.” You unleashed Fred from your grasp, nearly tumbling to the ground with flusteredness. The porridge-ish feeling was back, and your now-wobbly legs weren’t exempt. “Your smile’s contagious, you know.”

Fred’s reaction to your hug was slightly different, but equal in magnitude. His chest puffed as if it were fluttering with butterflies that would glide low near the grass, his neck, which tingled after your every exhale, was burning like brush, and his breath all but stopped, which he paid no mind to.

To distract himself from the foreign sensations racking his body, he pointed to the revolving wheel sputtering the crystalline, flowing water, saying, “Do you think it's possible for me to climb the wheel? I’d wager I could.”

“You’d be a madman if you did.” You daintily trailed behind him like a curious cat, spying on his actions from afar.

“Then I guess I’ve got to do it.” He stepped one foot on one of the damp wooden beams, which proved successful until the churning of the wheel shook off his balance. He stumped to the group with an ‘ow’, groaning, “Princess, you were supposed to catch me.”

“Sorry,” you cheekily giggled, suppressing your smile with your cupped palm. You looked in all directions but Fred’s to avoid an assumed scornful glare, but instead you were met with a chuckling redhead, his umber eyes screwed shut with laughter.

Childish titter occupied the still Spring air, blending in with the trickling water and occasional melody chirped by a lone sparrow or two. Your fingers intertwined with Fred’s to prevent you from falling backwards into the puddles of sludge strewn through the sunset-soaked blades of grass.

Eventually, Fred could be your stabilizing tether no longer, and you both fell backwards, hands still locked playfully. You started to get up from the soft cushion composed of a plethora of plants before the flat-capped ginger motioned for you to remain relaxed on the ground, the large tufts of your gown and all.

You complied, and before you knew it, you were making out the shapes of pink-hued clouds, improvising tales and fables to enchant Fred with.

“That one looks like a rabbit, doesn’t it?” you would say, or “that one looks like a mule-”

“-riding on a carriage!” Fred finished, giggling in unison with you. As your throat erupted with chuckles, you and the prince beside you clutched your stomachs which were rattling with joy.

After a while of staring up at the deepening sky, you said, “I think I’ve got to go back for dinner, Mum’ll be expecting me.” Fred immediately stood up, quick as a soldier, and he outstretched his arm chivalrously to help you sit up as well.

“I’ll walk you back, don’t worry. Who would I be to let a princess such as yourself brave the wilderness alone?”

“How kind of you, good sir,” you replied with a joking curtsy and exaggerated accent dripping with poshness. Your fingers intertwined with Fred’s again for the second time that day, and this time they felt more familiar, as if you could pinpoint every sun-owing freckle or crease in his pale skin.

Your connected arms swung rhythmically as you both relaxedly walked towards the direction of your humble residence, careful to avoid stepping on dotted ladybugs that scurried through the grass. Occasionally, you or Fred would release a clever wisecrack or randomly twirl, basking in the pink rays of sunshine that gradually depleted, but for most of the trek home, you stayed quiet, simply enjoying each other’s company: a luxury that was hard to come by in Fred’s house of nine.

When your house was finally visible on the thin line of the horizon, Fred’s eyes couldn’t help but light up. Your home didn’t look much different than the Weasley’s, save for its size being half as big. Your chimney wasn’t as crooked and worn by the elements as the gingered clan’s was either, but the young boy didn’t seem to notice. All he could see was an elegant castle suited for no one but the best.

At long last, you arrived on your back porch. The door was wide open, where your mother leaned her aproned hips against the frame with a smile. Wonderful aromas wafted from the kitchen to you and Fred’s nostrils, beckoning you to take a seat at the dinner table and dig in. “Now who might this be, Y/N?”

“My name’s Fredrick Weasley ma’am.” Youthfulness glinted his eyes as he reached his hand to shake your mother’s. “I go by Fred.”

“You’ve got quite the firm shake,” she said, suppressing a chuckle, “I hope you and Y/N had fun today? By the look of her dress, she did.”

Your cheeks burned like a tin fresh out of the oven as you looked down in horror to see brown splotches of dirt strewn across the fluff and frills. “Mum, I-”

“Shh, Y/N, don’t worry about it,” you mother cooed in a whisper, eyeing the oblivious redheaded boy next to you, who was equally smudged with mud but complemented with a sweet, wide-mouthed smile.

“Well, Y/N dear, it’s dinner time. Does your guest Mister Weasley care to join us?”

“No thank you, Miss Y/L/N, I’ve got to be on my way back to my home as well.” Fred pulled you closer to him, so that your chest was mere inches away from his’. A sudden burst of confidence pumped through his veins, and with that, he gave a light pack to your cheek.

Your eyes widened with shock; his lips left a tingly imprint on your nerves as he turned back around towards the creek. I’ll never wash my face again, you thought, cupping your cheek with your palm.

“Bye princess, I’ll see you tomorrow, promise?” he shouted, giving you a final wave.

“Promise. Bye, Mill Boy. See you then!” And with that, he was off following towards the water in which he came, the orange sunlight turning his figure into a fading silhouette.

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7wanderingpaws · 3 years

Text

Always, yours (2)

(gif not mine) - THIS Baek tho..... ㅠ

Warnings: none

Word count: 6.5K

Tags: @geniusloey (please let me know if you want to be un/tagged!)

❤ Enjoy! Please let me know your thoughts! ^^ Have a good start of the week!❤

Also, the new apartment!

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Second - My name is Lee Junho and I will be your trainer

You stood at the entrance of the gym, your palms somehow clammy. You didn’t realize putting on leggings would look this bad. Tears welled up in your eyes when Sukyeong took your hand to yank you inside.

“C’mon, don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered to you and when she managed to pull you inside, she pressed her fisted hand against your back, making you walk ahead. “You look great! You don’t even look like you’ve been pregnant,” she hissed in your ear.

Arguable, you thought right away but decided not to be any more negative. The only good point was you were able to leave home without the triplets. Baekhyun, just as promised, was home by six so you didn’t have to worry about leaving them at the baby corner (it was baby safe, you went to check the place out).

Slightly bowing to the other girls as you walked past, most of them your age or older, you decided to be in the back, far away from the teaching lady. You imagined her being young, and very fit. Her black hair would be shiny and she would have make-up to look perfect. A great way to ruin one’s self-esteem such as yours.

However, a single nudge from Sukyeong and your non-existent self-esteem basically vanished into thin air. Instead, anxiety with a sprinkle of bewitchedness, hit you for in walked a handsome male, around Baekhyun's age, with eyes like that of a cat's; narrow and sharp, his features leveled, nose straight with a pair of plump lips. He had longer dark hair that fell over his forehead in fluffy waves.

“Good evening, ladies!” he announced himself, clapping twice to gain everyone's attention. He didn't have to do it though; more than half of the ladies were already salivating over him, including your best friend. When the trainer saw wide eyes on him, he let out a boyish chuckle and this time, you couldn't escape the charm either. He was incredibly handsome. “My name is Lee Junho and I will be your trainer! I have some experience with working out,” he joked and, of course, everyone laughed louder than it was necessary. His toned chest and arms spoke volumes about his experience. “Please, let me know in advance if there are any injuries you have so that I can adjust the exercises to you accordingly. Do you have any questions?” He looked around with interest, his eyes skimming through any possible curious hand.

“Should I tell him that I'm…. you know,” you mumbled to Sukyeong but before you could finish your sentence, you shook your head, stopping yourself. It will be alright, you thought. As always, you made sure to feed the triplets properly and pump your breasts, so you expected no problems with the excessive breast milk leaking over your t-shirt this time.

Just like that, you found yourself jumping up and down as the exercise started. Lee Junho seemed to be a great professional, always adjusting everyone's postures to ensure full effectiveness. With the help of the deafening pop music, everything seemed suddenly possible. Until it came to you and until he lingered more by your side than the rest of the girls.

It was to be expected, but you still felt stupid. You couldn't do the push-ups like all the other girls who already had a great body. Meanwhile, hidden under Baekhyun's huge black shirt that you stole, was your still-fading baby bump. It was difficult to even try to get your shoulders off the mat as you did sit-ups; you were heaving loudly, sweat dripping down your face.

“Push just a little bit more,” murmured Junho with an encouraging smile as he put his hand between your shoulder blades, helping you sit up higher. It was a good support, but your abs were on fire, numbing everything that was made out of your core. “That's right, keep doing it like that.”

You hummed, and tried a few more times before giving up. Sukyeong wasn't that much better than you, but she still could sit up. She flashed you a small smile and mouthed: “Are you okay?”

You nodded, resting your head on the mat, trying to breathe through the workout.

As you moved through various core strengthening exercises, you started to feel it. The hurting in your breasts, the kind of feeling that you tried to prevent from happening at all costs. The closest you could compare it to was rocks.

You felt yourself panicking when you looked at Junho who was paying attention to someone else. If you wouldn't leave now, it would be too late.

“I'll be back in a minute,” you told Sukyeong, scrambling up to shaky legs. Baekhyun's shirt was getting wet now, your sports bra quickly becoming a bucket full of milk. Making few quick steps, you walked over to the door when Junho spoke up:

“Oi, are you okay? Are you sick?” He came running to you by the entrance door.

You shook your head with a polite smile. “I really need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh, we will be finishing up soon,” he said, giving you a look. Right, kids in kindergarten were learning how to hold their pee in, not how to hold back the breast milk.

You were embarrassed, but you still said: “Well, I ate something bad and this won't wait any longer-” you pushed the door open and jogged for the toilets, already pushing up the soaked shirt. Once safely inside, you yanked down the sports bra and let the milk out. You exhaled a loud sigh of relief. You knew this would cause a little mess as it was several streaks that were leaking, the milk staining everything around.

Chewing your lips, you strained your ears when you heard commotion outside, the class most probably finished. You'd been in the toilets for at least ten minutes now, so you expected Sukyeong to come search for you soon.

There was a hasty knock on the door and you were fast to hide your chest back under the shirt. Then you heard your best friend's whisper: “It's just me! Can I come in?”

You were fast to give her the permission. She closed the door behind her and you took out your breasts again, the milk once again spraying everywhere. Sukyeong scratched her head, clueless. “I have a spare shirt. Here,” she handed you the white thermal-shirt.

You shook your head. “No, I cannot wear this. It'll stain and I bet the shirt was expensive,” you bit your lip. Before she could protest with a conflicted gaze, you just waved your hand nonchalantly. “I'll be done soon. It's already much better. Besides, I don't think I could push it over my chest. I'm huge,” you admitted quietly, a little embarrassed. You trusted Sukyeong and she would never joke or judge but it was still an uncomfortable situation only Baekhyun was allowed to witness. When you saw she wasn't convinced, you added with a smile: “Baekhyun gave me a sweater before coming here, so I will wear that. Go and get our stuff? I'll be out in a minute.”

“Will you be fine?” she said, her eyes widening in small fear at the sight of the milk.

“Of course,” you winked. She gave you a look over and when she was convinced, she turned, leaving you in the toilets alone.

Just a few minutes later and the flow finally calmed down. You took some toilet paper, wiping yourself up before cleaning up the surroundings. You were drained and you didn't even finish the workout.

When you were sure everything looked decent, you finally walked back to the gym. It was empty; only some distant sounds of chattering coming your way. Sukyeong was in the corner, entertaining the trainer.

“Are you okay?” he asked you when you walked over to them, taking your bag and your phone along the way. Junho didn't look necessarily worried, but he seemed to care enough about his clients which you found good enough.

“Yes,” you smiled half-heartedly. “Thank you.”

Sukyeong bowed to Junho. “Then we will take our leave!”

“Alright, it was nice meeting you. I will see you on Thursday, ladies,” he pressed a smile, bowing politely. He kept following you with his sharp eyes and, unconsciously, you became shy under his scrutiny. There was something happening whenever your eyes met and you weren't sure what it was. Maybe you were just making it up because he was handsome and you wanted to believe he had an eye for you. It would make you feel like you could have been special.

“Goodness, what a hotshot,” murmured Sukyeong to you as the both of you left the premises of the gym. “He is so smart!”

You sighed, quickly putting on the sweater Baekhyun pushed into your hand before leaving the apartment. You will be sweaty, make sure to wear this once you're done, he would tell you. “You managed to get something out of him?”

“Doesn't seem to be here just to eye the girls,”she informed you proudly as she slugged her bag over her shoulder. “So that is a plus point!”

She led the both of you to the carpark, her shiny small Kia awaiting you near the exit. It was a good idea to park it nearby as you didn't have to walk more on your wobbly legs. Once seated inside, you threw your bag on the backseat and sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest.

“Are you alright?” asked Sukyeong, uncertainty evident in her eyes as she placed her bag behind her seat and turned back front, pressing the button to bring the car to life.

You nodded, though she couldn't see you. “I'm okay, thank you.” You hesitated. “Maybe a little embarrassed,” you finally admitted, staring out of your window to see other women entering their cars. Many of them owned Mercedes' or BMWs and you instantly wondered how they were able to afford such a car at such a young age.

“Oh, dear, no.” Sukyeong was fast to turn to grab your thigh, trying to bring your diverted attention to her. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I literally told him if I don't leave I will poo myself,” you whined and turned to her dramatically.

Sukyeong was about to refute but she stopped, surprised at your words. “Wait, you told him that?”

You nodded, exasperated. “I told the handsome dude I can't keep it in if he won't let me leave. I couldn't possibly tell him: yo, move or else I'll shoot you down with my breastmilk now, could I?”

She burst out into a huge laughter, her nose scrunching up in the process. “Well, if you say it like that!”

Both of you were now laughing, though you were more on the desperate side. You really made an idiot out of yourself while still having the issue of controlling your milk.

“You know, I think it would be good to tease Baekhyun a little bit. I told you that you shouldn’t let him prioritize his job. If he does it you need to show him you aren’t someone he can take for granted.”

Your joyful smile slowly melted into a frown. “Baekhyun never took me for granted and you also know it.”

“Of course I know it! I’d trust Baekhyun with my life,” she insisted quickly and started driving out of the car park and out to the busy Seoul traffic. It was incredible how this city never slept. “I’m just trying to say that a little bit of teasing never hurt anyone. You’re now a mother and you have three kids together.”

Small silence took over the car. You were looking out of the window, enjoying the unusual luxury of being in a car instead of a packed bus while your mind was roaming over what your friend said. “So, you say our relationship can become rusty? He would lose interest after some time now that I’m not so... fresh?”

Sukyeong breathed out a small laugh at the choice of your words. “I doubt Baekhyun would get tired of you. Ever. It is true that men see their women differently after birthing their children.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking over what to tell you. “You’re only twenty-three —you’re too young, so make sure to let him know you’re still full of life and can become hard to tie down.”

You let out a doubtful snort but you felt uneasy at the topic. It never occurred to you that one day you and Baekhyun wouldn’t be together. It never occurred to you that you could lose love for each other because both of your interests would change and he would seek consolation from another partner and maybe you would stay alone. This wasn’t a new thought to you; Jiyoung, Baekhyun’s ex colleague, was challenging you more than enough in the past but even then you knew Baekhyun wasn’t interested in her. What if he found someone that actually piqued his interest?

You shook your head quickly, rejecting the ugly idea. “You city girls have a very interesting way of thinking.”

“Just do it.” Sukyeong looked at you with excited eyes when she stopped at another red light. “Mention a hot trainer and see what’ll happen,” she told you wickedly, giggling.

Upon arriving at home, you were met with Baekhyun's high-pitched talk. It calmed you down right away, and you felt like in safe haven after the small fight in the gym.

“I'm home,” you sing-sang, dropping the bag down by the entrance and taking off the sweater.

Baekhyun faked a gasp. “Who is it, Jun? Is it mummy? Let's check it out quickly!” And within a second, he appeared with Jun hanging off his connected arms, pretending he was on an airplane. Even though you trusted Baekhyun with keeping the baby safe in his arms, it gave you a little heart attack. Besides, triplets were still too small for that. “Look, Jun, it's mummy!” he exclaimed while looking over his shoulder, most probably checking Juna and Junhee. “Welcome home, babe,” he told you with a leveled voice, looking at you now. He adjusted Jun in his arms, having his head on his shoulder while you took off your shoes, watching him.

Your husband looked so incredibly soft. His hair was now covering his forehead, somehow making his eyes look much more puppy-eyed, just like the baby he was holding. Despite being so wide and incredibly manly, you had the urge to squeeze his cheeks like you would do to your triplets, because he was so adorable, so loveable. He was wearing his huge white T-shirt and black pants and no socks; the typical look when he was home, but for some reason, after going through challenges in the gym, you felt like he was much more inviting and cuddly, providing you comfort by simply being him, by simply staring at you with those soft eyes. He was so Baekhyun.

“I see you are having a good time,” you noted with a smile and stood on your tiptoes when Baekhyun demanded a kiss with puckered lips like a little duck. You made sure to cradle Jun’s tiny butt, your expert hand immediately knowing he had a change of the nappy recently.

“Now it's much better,” he muttered, kissing you with a loud smooch. “How was the work-out?” he asked when he straightened up, rocking Jun exaggeratedly in his arms. Just then, his eyes dropped to your chest, the white stains very much obvious on the black textile. “Shit, did you leak?”

You shrugged, not wanting to talk about it as you walked past him to greet your daughters that were on the playmat with their little toys. “I should have known better.” Baekhyun followed you, watching as you sat down and kissed the two baby girls. “Time to change the nappies over here, hm?” Your voice was light as you touched the babies’ butts but you were surprised when they were all clean, too. Baekhyun must have worked hard during your absence.

“Sweetheart, we should go to the doctor's,” Baekhyun told you as he sat down on the couch in front of the play mat. Jun squirmed in his arms, whimpering, so he laid him gently on the blanket that was splayed next to him. “I don't like this and they could solve the issue.”

You took Junhee's tiny feet into your hands, massaging them, the skin incredibly smooth under your palm. “I'm scared they will do something that will prevent me from feeding them.”

“You know it doesn't matter whether you feed them breast milk or we give them formula. You breastfed long enough anyway. This is about your well-being, too.”

“I just want them to be close to me as much as possible,” you said, lowering your voice. It made you remember how you didn’t even think much about feeding your kids while being pregnant, and now here you were, reluctant to let go of breastfeeding. Three babies was a lot of hard work, but it was always your dream to be a mother. You wanted to make sure you really didn’t have a choice before you would make a decision. Baekhyun was correct, but you still believed the longer you were with the babies the stronger would be your bond with them. “It's a good way for them to be connected to me.”

Baekhyun observed you for a moment before checking Jun whose feet were up in the air, his tiny hands coming up to pat on them clumsily. He was a little baby ball discovering all the possible movements his body was slowly able to make. “I understand. I just want you to know that it isn't a bad thing if you stop doing it. Some women can't breastfeed at all.”

“Because they are unable to, Baekhyun.” The way your voice had an edge to it made you look up at him to catch a little panic in his eyes. He didn't want to make you upset and you felt guilty right away. “I am perfectly able to provide them with milk, but I overproduce and yes it makes my life a little more difficult but I don’t want to lose this opportunity. I'd rather not go.”

“Okay, as you wish,” he gave up quickly, not wanting to argue. He understood why you would be upset. And usually, he would try to be more persistent since he didn’t want you to suffer but he could sense your damp mood; the workout most probably gave you a harder time, he guessed. And, of course, he, as a man, couldn't comprehend completely what you were going through when your milk was flowing from you like an unstoppable mountain stream.

You hummed and stood up, your ankles sighing at the movement. “I'll go wash up.”

Baekhyun followed you with his gaze until you disappeared in the corridor that led towards your shared bedroom. He looked back down at Jun and then at the girls on the mat. “Well, what shall we do to make mummy feel better?” he pouted at them.

Small baby gurgles came back to him in response. “Right, I agree,” he replied thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment, only hearing the distant sounds from the TV and your movements in the bedroom. Checking the clock on the opposite wall, he was fast to jump up. “Now, you naughty kids, it’s way past your bedtime and you still don’t sleep! Let’s get you all to the crib before mommy comes back!”

Since the triplets were calm, he knew they would fall asleep soon. He made sure their energy would be somehow drained while you were away although he was sure he used up more energy than they did. It was difficult to work with infants and he didn’t know how you managed it on a daily basis nonstop. Another reason for him to admire and respect you.

“I’ll see you whenever you wake us up,” he told them when he put Jun, the last baby, in the crib. He laughed gently to himself and observed his offsprings with a tender gaze. He had to admit that Jun looked like him when he was a baby. Junhee was definitely your splitting image while Juna seemed to be in the middle, though her eyes were Baekhyun’s, too. She was the perfect mix of you and him.

He wondered which one of them would love hapkido. He wondered which one of them would be smart in mathematics like you were. Which one of them would hate foreign languages and cucumbers? Which one of them would cry the most in the kindergarten and which one of them would always be the quiet one? Baekhyun hoped and wished that the triplets would have a special bond that would always protect them from getting hurt by other people. After all, the world kept getting harsher and harsher day by day.

“I’ll always be there for you,” he whispered just when Junhee’s eyes closed, her small mouth hanging open when she let go of the pacifier. “You’ll always have me and mummy to protect you. Always.”

You took your time in the bathroom. Muscles you didn't know existed were aching, so you took the luxury to let yourself be soaked in warm water a little bit longer. There was a soft knock on the door and you quickly let Baekhyun enter.

He was expressionless but when you locked eyes as he closed the door with his back, he pulled a smile meant only for you. “Do you feel better?” he asked quietly, setting the monitor on the sink before walking up to you. He leaned down, pecking you on the top of your head.

“Much better,” you sighed, closing your eyes when you felt his hand slide down your cheek and to your neck. Since he brought in the monitor with him, you took it he managed to put the babies to sleep. It only made you feel worse that you still could become irritated at such a good husband like Baekhyun. “Sorry I snapped at you.”

“No,” he was fast to mutter against your hair, his thumb grazing the skin on your jaw. “I understand. I am just worried, is all.”

“I know, and I don't appreciate it enough,” you replied and Baekhyun pulled away to look down at you with crinkled eyes.

“You do much more, sweetheart. Don't be so harsh on yourself, hm?” He let go of you and slid down next to the bathtub, his back against it. You had the urge to splash him with water but you decided you would have a water fight another day. “Besides, you went to work out after a full day of mothering. It's only natural you'd be frustrated.”

“If only you couldn't read me so well.”

Baekhyun smiled to himself. “How could I tease you if I wouldn't know my wife so well, hm?”

He heard you let out a small chuckle from behind him. “Life would be so much easier.”

Your husband laughed and turned his head to look at you over his shoulder. Water was just barely covering your chest, your cheeks were rosy from the heat and your baby hair was curled up from the humidity. Goodness, he couldn't stop staring. You looked like an angel.

“What?” you murmured, his intense gaze making you pink even more.

“Nothing,” was his breathy reply. “Just admiring my gorgeous little lady.”

With a shy smile, you sat up, causing small waves in the bathtub, and you pressed your lips to his pouty ones. His eyes widened playfully and when you wanted to pull back, he chased your lips, grounding you. You smiled, bringing your wet hand up to his cheek, but he didn't react to the wetness, simply prolonging the innocent kiss. “You know,” you told him when you separated, your noses still touching. Baekhyun hummed in interest, watching your lips before he flickered his orbs up to yours. “There was a really hot guy in the gym.”

Baekhyun blinked a couple of times, letting your words sink in and he was fast to withdraw from you. “What?”

You giggled, satisfied at his reaction. It wasn't that bad to listen to Sukyeong's offer after all. “Yes, he was the one leading the class today.”

“A hot guy leading a class for women?” he repeated, surprised.

Now then, why did he ever expect you to just not pay attention to other males? You never did, or so he thought, but he was still taken aback. The way your eyes sparkled in mischief was an obvious sign that you were just trying to rile him up for whatever reason, yet he still felt a little protective. Did that man look at you, too?!

“Why, you don't like it?” you quipped, poking your tongue out to him.

He observed you giggling, your eyes crinkled up when you took note of his disapproval. Something moved within him. “You want me to like it?”

You sighed lovingly and booped his nose. “I want you to like me, silly. I’m just playing around.”

Baekhyun huffed, offended, and spoke in a prominent pout: “I don't like it, young lady. You have me. You have triplets with me. I love you. And you love me.”

“That, I do.” Bringing up in the air your left hand, you looked how the band on your fourth finger caught the light in the bathroom. “And here is the proof.”

He was looking up at your hand and he joined it with his, his own ring shining just like yours. He enveloped his fingers around yours gently. “Why would you try to make oppa worried about such things?” murmured Baekhyun in wonder as he stood up and towered over you. He let go of your hand and leaned further down so his face was close to yours, his long neck chain swaying in the air between you. “Oppa doesn't like sharing, but you know that, right?”

You nodded, awaiting his next words. Except, it wasn't words. Baekhyun surprised you by swiftly lowering his hands into the warm water to grab a hold of you under your knees and waist. You squealed, suddenly scared you might slip out of his grip so you quickly circled your arms around his neck, water splashing everywhere. But seeing his biceps flexing you knew he was much better than Lee Junho or any other trainer there was.

“I'm naked and wet, Baekhyun!” you screamed and Baekhyun laughed loudly, enjoying your little panic as he moved you out of the bathtub, bringing you over where the sink was.

“Hmm, exactly,” he hummed in appreciation, his eyes twinkled and you quickly hid your face in his neck, embarrassed. “You don't get to play with oppa's heart like that and not get punished, baby girl.”

Despite the excitement, he put you down, more worried about you catching a cold than teasing the hell out of you. As soon as your legs were on the floor, you slapped his chest, making the male groan. “You silly! You could have dropped me!”

“I would never,” he denied quietly, pecking you sweetly and reaching for the towel that was hanging next to the bathtub. “And don't forget,” he reminded, wrapping the towel around your shoulders, making sure it was catching every drop of water, “that you still have a punishment list from when you were pregnant. Don't think I forgot.”

Your eyes widened in horror and you frowned at him like a little kid though secretly you really thought he had forgotten. “You are being so mean right now!”

Baekhyun only smirked and tapped your naked bum gently as he brought your body closer. “You asked for it. From now on, I won't hold back anymore,” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. It tickled.

There were feelings of excitement, eagerness and curiosity bubbling in your tummy, or maybe those were just the butterflies Baekhyun awakened whenever he did something heart-fluttering and challenging to your relationship. It was a long time since you two had been together, but finding ways to ignite the passion and desire in the both of you was Baekhyun's specialty. And you would try to make it yours, now that you seemed to find a weak spot of his.

“You can start by kissing me as a thank you for bringing you out of the tub,” he said when you didn't reply.

You scoffed and re-adjusted the towel, bringing it around your body. It made you feel conscious that you were completely naked in front of him, although Baekhyun didn't even pay attention. His own clothes were wet since he brought you out of the water. The white tshirt was stuck to his stomach, perfectly outlining his muscles.

Baekhyun pursed his lips when you didn't listen. You turned to walk out of the bathroom but he was fast to grab your wrist, turning you back to him. “I said, give me a kiss.”

“No!” You shook your head resolutely, sticking your lower lip out as you frowned, hoping to make him agitated.

The excitement in you only doubled when Baekhyun quirked an eyebrow, leaning his head closer to yours and turning his smooth cheek towards you as he tapped his long index finger on it. “C’mon, a peck for oppa.”

His other hand sneakily wandered to your side to tickle you and you were fast to giggle crazily, pushing his hand away. “Okay, okay,” you said quickly and pressed your lips to his awaiting cheek. He hummed, feeling your mouth stretched in a smile and he turned his face, his lips colliding with yours.

You squealed, wanting to step back - because he was being unfair - but his hands sneaked around your waist, bringing you to him and therefore successfully caging you in. He urged your mouth open, slowly pushing his tongue into your cavern that became quickly eager to feel him. You sighed and slid your hands up his sturdy chest. You nibbled on his lip though he quickly stopped you when he sucked on your tongue hard, bringing out a small moan out of you. He made out with you sensually and you knew you were becoming giddy because of him.

He let his hands grope your bum, giving a good massage to your aching muscles and you moaned again, satisfied. “I guess I will have to show you a much better workout routine,” Baekhyun whispered when he let go of your lips with a smack.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized there really wasn’t anything standing in your way. The triplets were asleep and Baekhyun riled you up so much it would be difficult to lie down next to him without touching him. “Then show me, oppa,” you made sure to emphasize the “p” sound, his twinkly eyes on your swollen lips.

He chuckled lovingly and kissed your forehead, his lips leaving a bit of moisture behind. Gently intertwining your hands, he led you out of the bathroom and straight to your bed.

“Lie down for me, sweetheart,” he told you quietly as he went to close the bedroom door. Once you got the needed privacy, he reached behind him, pulling on the shirt that he swiftly took off, your eyes appreciating the way his muscles flexed. He threw it on the floor and walked over to you, already lying on bed as he told you to. “Let me remind you that you’re oppa’s,” he mumbled with passion, already distracted by your body that was still covered with the towel.

His words ignited the desire in you and when he hovered over you with a focused gaze, you knew this would be a long night for the both of you.

On Thursday, you went to the gym with determination. The reason was simple: two babies hanging off you and one hanging off of Sukyeong. Baekhyun was running late from work so you had to bring them with you this time. Despite your huge worries, you had to drop them off at the baby corner. The kind, elderly lady showed you the young babysitter that would be in charge of your triplets (after everyone stopped ogling them and squealing about how cute they were). Her name was Sonhee and her smile was the purest you had ever laid eyes on. Her face was gentle and her eyes seemed to be telling a story of a difficult life. What was a little interesting was that you had a feeling you had seen her somewhere before and it wasn't in this gym.

“Do you have any license to prove that she is capable of taking care of three infants?” barged into the conversation Sukyeong, her eyes suspiciously looking over the girl. Even though you had the same question, you wouldn't have uttered it so bluntly. “She looks too young. Even younger than their mother,” she added with a huff.

The lady in charge, Mrs Lee, didn’t show her shock - that was if there was any. “She is the eldest sibling in her family. At home, she is taking care of five more siblings and she is a kindergarten teacher in practice during the school year.”

Your mouth shaped an “o”, nodding thoughtfully and you quickly nudged Sukyeong, catching her opening her mouth to rebut again. “Thank you. I know Sonhee won't do anything to undermine my trust.”

“I will do my best.” Sonhee bowed the perfect 90 degrees and you quickly lowered your head as well, accepting her respect. “I will make sure nothing bad will happen!”

You smiled and quickly looked over the triplets again. They were three months old and you would already let them be with a stranger. Were you still considered a responsible and good mother?

“All the rich mothers do it and they are considered great for doing it,” answered your question Sukyeong in a monotone as you were walking to the gym. “It is just sixty minutes - what can happen during such a short time?”

You frowned, pouting. “Oh, once you'll have kids, you will know, Sukyeong-ah,” you mumbled under your breath. With babies, things could go wrong within seconds. What made Sukyeong ever believe leaving babies alone for sixty minutes was safe?

“Well, it'll be fine!” she smiled brightly as you entered a still empty gym. You put your bag and phone down, and noticed the last message Baekhyun wrote:

sorry again baby enjoy your workout let me know if the munchkins were okay when you dropped them off love you baby ❤️

Your heart fluttered at the last sentence and you shot him a quick reply with an update when you heard the door of the gym opening, you trainer, Lee Junho, appearing.

He had a sleeveless sports shirt that showed his defined arms and boy, was he chunky in all the right ways. You were the first one his eyes fell on and his straight lips stretched into a delightful smile. To your surprise, he called your name: “Hello! You came already today! Ah, Sukyeong, too!”

You gave him a shy smile and caught him looking quickly over your outfit. The typical. Baekhyun's huge shirt with old pants that your legs could get lost in. You wouldn't be wearing leggins any time soon, you swore. All the ladies wore tight pilates clothing, so you were aware you looked like a trash bag but you never felt more comfortable. Just to see whether Junho let something on in his face, you watched him, but he only diverted his attention to Sukyeong who greeted him with a wide smile.

“Were you alright on Tuesday after the class?” asked Junho as he started to stretch on the floor.

Sukyeong, wanting to be a good student, followed him while you were still standing, the phone in your hands vibrating with most probably incoming messages from your husband. You pinked.

“Ye-yeah, I was … okay,” you mumbled. You already forgot about the stupid lie you made up so he would let you go to the troilets on Tuesday. Baekhyun made sure you forgot about every sane thought that night, so in conclusion, you were more than alright after class on Tuesday.

Junho nodded attentively. “Well, you can try to take it easier today, I won’t mind,” he winked with a grin.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Alright.”

“Is it exam season at uni that has you so stressed?” was his next question when he reached for his stretched out feet.

“Sorry?”

“Ah, right, well she could easily be a uni student,” giggled Sukyeong, looking at you. “My friend is still so young. She shouldn’t be so stressed, right, Junho?”

Junho watched your friend from the corner of his eye with amusement. “It would be great if no one had any stress in their lives.”

Deciding not to answer, you wanted to check your messages but the rest of the class started to arrive, so you joined Sukyeong instead. Stretching was always a good choice and Baekhyun told you about the importance of warming up properly.

“He seems to be interested in you,” whispered Sukyeong eagerly when Junho became busy replying to his fangirl students. “You piqued his curiosity!”

“Shh, stop that!” you winced, pushing her. She was spitting nonsense to tease you but- why was your heart skipping like that?!

After waiting for five more minutes, you started the workout. Even though you were already terrible, you had a weird anxiety from Junho. Maybe it was Sukyeong’s teasing that made you weirdly conscious of his gaze whenever he looked your way or looked directly at you.

You were sweating like a pig, your face shiny from the perspiration but you were determined not to give up. It was for your own benefit, your own health and if you worked on yourself, you could carry the triplets and carry the groceries - you could become a physically acclaimed superwoman!

“Make sure to straighten your back when you do the plank!” shouted Junho over the loud music just when he walked by you. Stopping, he crouched down and placed his hand first between your shoulder blades. “Keep it straight for me,” he told you and then both of his hands landed on your hips, making you go stiff under his touch. “Hips square to the mat. Make sure to squeeze your abs to keep your core strong and balanced,” he was telling in a hushed tone that felt weirdly intimate to you.

“I don’t have abs,” you heaved out, your arms shaking as you tried to keep the plank straight and correct. Junho huffed a laugh, standing up. “Well, you're doing great anyway!”

Feeling the relief when you saw him walk away, you heaved out a heavy sigh, focusing on being in the moment and imagining becoming strong; for yourself. For the babies. For Baekhyun. You could do it-

There was a distant shout calling out for your name. Recognizing the voice of Mrs Lee, you almost fell face-first on the ground from panic when you registered her words.

“Jun wouldn’t stop throwing up!”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

A/N: Second chapter - done! But Jun :( What do you think about Junho? And Baek was busy, oh well...

Your feedback for the first part was SO NICE! Thank you to everyone who took the time to write me a comment in any form. Its so, so appreciated!

See you soon!

P.S. some people took notice AND pointed it out (which made me feel so happyyy!) that Baekhyun and OC seem to talk a lot in oppa/younger girl reference. That stems deeply from the prequel times when OC referred to him only as oppa (no, referring to Baekhyun - or any older male that is not too old, and the situation allows it - as oppa is not wrong as everyone is portraying it out in the "weirded out" culture. Baekhyun is older than OC and now it became a small game for him; after all, he loves that she is younger and he can take care of her and with the addition of triplets, he wants to embrace this a little more. Also, bear in mind they are both quite young!). So when I get to write the prequel, it will only be their oppa/younger-girl relationship! ^^ (which is why also in Captain Bucheon Lee Nari refers to Baekhyun’s character as oppa - same reason).

#baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun au #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun #exo fluff #exo angst #exo smut #exo fanfiction #mywritings #AY #pregnancy au #family au

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

heather • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

[based off the song heather by conan gray]

requested: OMG I HAVE AN IDEA IDK IF ITS GOOD AND IDK WHY IM TYPING IN ALL CAPS BUT CAN U DO A FIC WHERE LIKE ITS BASED OF YHE SONG HEATHER BY CONAN GRAY WHERE THE READER AND RICH HAVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS FOR SO MANY YEARS AND HAVE FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER BUT THERE BOTH SO OBLIVIOUS- SO WHEN RICHIE LIKE GETS A GF ONE DAY THE READER JUST WHSKWHDIWHWIW IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT LIKE AT THE END THEY REALIZE THEYRE IN LOVE. SORRY IF ITS TOK SPECIFIC. LOVE U. IM RUNNING OUTTA CHARACTERS

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, themes of cheating but no actual cheating, angst, fluff at the end, unedited.

thank u guys so much for being so patient with this fic <3 love u all so much!

[losers + reader are 18+ in this.]

4.4k words

(also, this fic starts with a flashback and idk if i like this style, but lmk if it works)

♡

the persistent beat thudding in your ears seems to do nothing more than dim your already low mood as you sip on lemonade by yourself in someone's basement bar, sitting on an uncomfortable metal barstool and leaning your head heavy against your chin.

these days, it seemed as though the world was painted in gray.

you look around almost lazily; bev and ben went outside in the snow a couple minutes ago, stan just took a girl upstairs - you're left alone now, because mike and eddie had to study for their exam and bill was feeling under the weather. and richie, as usual, was late.

there's almost twenty other people in the room right now, but you have no desire to speak to any of them. you've been trying to have fun tonight, but you're just having a hard time, feeling distracted and unable to stop thinking about wire framed glasses and a certain bright smile.

your wandering eyes halt your thoughts as a girl in your class - heather perez - catches your eye from across the room, her hair falling in natural curls that makes you sigh in envy. she smiles and waves at you warmly, gesturing for you to come and sit with her. you swallow and look down into your cup of dreary, graying lemonade as you try not to think about how you look in comparison. she's so fucking pretty. you look back up and shake your head with a friendly smile, faker than a plastic flower, and nod to the bathroom. she shrugs and smiles, turning back around.

she was too sweet, it hurt.

her naturally dark hair, long and wavy, her smooth dark skin, her laugh.... but suddenly, your head snaps back up after recognizing a familiar sight on heather's figure.

-is that richie's sweater?

your heart thumps and churns in the most unsavory way as all the breath leaves your lungs in one swift exhale. you feel sick to your stomach and your hand falls to hit the counter to stabilize yourself, the lemonade sloshing out of the cup slightly. but you pay no mind. heather's wearing richie's sweater...

you know that sweater really well. it's definitely his, and for some reason that makes you want to cry.

you blink and force yourself to suck air into your lungs as you look around quickly, anywhere but at heather perez wearing richie tozier's sweater, with all the stripes and patterns and the rough polyester material. you're not sure why you're so caught off-guard, you knew that heather perez was maybe-kinda-sorta seeing your trashmouth. he'd mentioned it in passing a few times and you've not been able to keep it off your mind as bev and bill whisper to richie about it in the halls or during hangouts when you were laying in stan's lap pretending not to hear it.

it hurts, though. holy hell, does it hurt when richie turns the corner and the typical, 'hey, richie!' choruses through most of the people in the basement - and yet his eyes are just set on her.

it hurts even worse when you make eye contact with him and he smiles at you, nodding in greeting and calling a "hey there, toots!" over the thumping of the noise before turning back towards heather.

your heart thumps erradically as you eye him sliding an arm around her shoulders easily, pulling her into his tall lanky frame, crushing your chest and deflating your trembling heart. heather's head falls onto richie's shoulder and you shiver, feeling colder than you've felt in so long. the lemonade you force to your lips tasting like stale water as the sight of richie pinching heather's shoulder and thumbing his own sweater on her frame make you feel empty.

even now, weeks later, you remember how it felt. you sip on the boiling tea and immediately burn your tongue, making you swear as you stare out your window, the snow falling around your house in the dark making you feel an odd, empty kind of peace. that fucking sweater.

you haven't talked to richie in almost a week and a half - he got in trouble the night after the party and his parents took his phone away - at eighteen years old, his parents took his phone - so that he could 'spend time with family' (a task that made you chuckle to yourself when bill had explained it to you about twelve days ago).

it's winter break, though, and you've been missing the last piece of your eight-person puzzle the last few times you've hung out with your friends. it feels empty without richie's boisterous shenanigans, snarky looks and goofy comebacks... you feel really embarrassed for missing him so deeply.

tears well up in your eyes as you think again about his damn sweater, the one that heather was wearing, the same one he'd given you not even three weeks prior.

"well look at you." richie says with amusement trickling through his voice like melting icewater through a calm creek. you spin towards him with a grin eclipsing your face as you shrug around his sweater, pretending not to smell his strong scent and pretending not to feel the immediate comfort it gives you.

"you know, for as dumb as it looks, i kind of like it." you tease, brushing some hair back from your eyes as the sweater sleeves fall back down past your hands. he laughs, eyes not leaving you for a second.

"shit, doll. keep it." he says, sounding serious. it makes you pull a face at him, starting to lift it slightly over your head to return it to its rightful owner.

but he shakes his head, hands gently gripping your arms and halting your motions, subsequently setting your heart on fire. his lips are set in a gentle grin as he shakes his head again. "it looks so much better on you."

it's spoken simply, in such honestly that it makes you blush nearly immediately. in fact, you're so flustered that all you can do is shove him a bit, stuttering out a quiet, "shut up, richie, you- i - okay, whatever."

it makes him chuckle as he takes the soft blow of your hands against his shoulders, deftly running his hands through his curly locks as he shakes his head. "you're adorable, kid."

you're lucky he'd turned around to gripe around on his messy bed for his laptop, because the stupid grin you're sure is painting your face is enough to make you dig your own grave and then hand him the shovel. if only he knew how much you liked him.

you didn't keep the sweater after that night, though. at the time, you'd told him it was because it was putrid; that the colors and patterns were a sin to man and that you'd never be caught dead wearing it out. he laughed the whole time because you had literally worn it to the store with him it with him that same day. but now, you'd give anything for richie to give you that sweater again, to feel that polyester inseam fall against your stomach and your arms and chest, like a huge richie hug (without all the bones and the cologne and the caffeine-pulsing heartbeat - so not a real richie hug, but as close as you could get to the real thing without actually just having it).

god, you like him too much. you rub your face with your palm, the moisture from the tears that had accidentally escaped your eyes smudging against your face. you're tired, almost - it's like an empty, heartbroken exhaustion that sags your shoulders and chokes your throat and makes you zone out for minutes at a time. one thought overwhelms you right now, so as you see a car's headlights shine out your window through the falling snow, you don't even notice it.

you just wish you were heather.

you've tried to hate her. really, you have - you figured maybe, just maybe, if you were able to rant to bev or eddie about how much of a bitch heather is, how she's terrible to richie and how boring she was, maybe you could justify the heartbreak in your chest.

but god, she's so perfect. heather, with her shiny hair, bright smile, her flawless mind and caring heart. she's, as far as you're concerned, an angel. of course richie would choose heather, who wouldn't?

the other day at that party, you'd tried your hardest to ignore your intrusive thoughts, but you can't help feeling like it would all be better if heather didn't exist. and even that thought alone hurts your heart, because you remember the smile on richie's face when he looked at her, swathed in his sweater and floating around the room like a beacon of light.

and you could never, ever in good conscience take that from richie.

you almost laugh at how absurd it is - now you're talking to yourself while you stare out the window, half asleep, dreaming of freckles placed just like constellations and crooked noses, of jawlines that jut out and long, lanky fingers; of loud, chipping laughter and beat up high-tops with cuffed corduroy pants.

"y/n?" a voice behind your door makes you jump a bit, unsettling your already disconcerted bones. you’re imagining him, now? you laugh into your scalding mug for a second, but after a double-take at the doorway you find the angel himself to be standing there with a perplexed look.

"richie, what're you doing here?" you ask, rubbing your eye to make sure no tears are left. he looks troubled. "i knocked, but nobody answered. so..." he says with a shrug, and you ned, tucking a leg under yourself and nodding.

"what are you doing, toots?" he asks, backlit by the hallway light. and then you finally can see what he's wearing, and you almost laugh at your own misery.

but you don’t laugh, your brain short-circuiting as you feel the knife twist further into your abdomen. the stupid fucking sweater.

“-um, nothing. y- did you get that back from heather?” you try to deliver the line as smoothly as possible, but by the look on his face, you did a real shit job at that.

“what?” he asks in an exhale as he shakes snowflakes from his hair and shoulders, closing your door as he walks towards you and falls to sit next to you on your windowsill seat.

“i thought you gave her that sweater.” you say and he raises a brow, “yeah, like two weeks ago.” he says slowly, eyeing you. he adds, “she obviously didn’t need it after that.”

you frown, “did she need it then?” you didnt try to sound bitter at all, but your voice comes with more of a sting than you’d anticipated.

as always, richie meets fire with fire. “it was twenty fuckin’ degrees out, she was wearing a tank top.”

you don’t know what to say so you just stare out the window with a quick huff, crossing your arms. "why does it matter? it's a sweatshirt." he mutters. "i was just being nice to her."

you nod, pain twisting around in your stomach. he's right, it's just a sweater. but he gave it to her, because he likes heather better.

“what’s up with you, kid?” he asks, gentler this time.

“don’t call me kid, richie.” you say sharply, not meeting his eyes. “and there’s nothing up with me.” you know you’re being difficult, but you really don't have the energy to argue with him right now.

it’s quiet again, and the silence is even more awkward. you take another scalding sip of your tea.

“um, y/n... is this because of heather?” he says after a bit. you feel the tension that the acknowledgment brings as it hits you in the thick, cold air. richie’s tapping a rhythm on his thigh, so you can tell he feels it too.

"richie." you say weakly, your voice coming out too quiet, too obviously broken and exhausted. "i cannot do this. please don't do this right now"

he blinks at you, eyebrows furrowed. "sugar, i'm so lost right now."

you decide to change the subject. "-why'd you come over?" you ask, actually looking at him then immediately regretting it. he looks hurt and confused, like a lost puppy.

"oh. um, i just need to tell you something.it's about heather, too." he sounds anxious, and you roll your eyes, looking down at the tree outside your room as wind blows powdery white mounds off its branches.

“can this just wait until tomorrow?” you whisper. doesn't he get it?

it's quiet and for a moment you believe that he's going to leave it, to not bring up the obvious jealousy brewing in your chest. but he breaks the silence too soon.

"i tried to kiss her." he says and you immediately look towards the door, the most immediate escape possible.

your breathing gets heavy; if you have to hear this, you know you'll admit your feeling to richie, and you don't want to do that to him. but you have a suspicion that he already knows.

"richie, i'm so, so glad to see you. and that you like heather. really, i am. but- it's not a good time. i'm not- i'm not okay." you say, voice thick as tears well behind your eyes.

richie’s eyes widen almost comically as you make eye contact and his hands immediately find purchase on your arms, his thumbs rubbing in the way that he has done ever since that one foggy summer you spent in the sewers. "y/n/n, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks, watching sadly as a tear slips from your cheek. it breaks your heart when he calls you sweetheart, and you shake your head.

you can't tell him the truth - that you love him, so instead, you mumble, "i've missed you. there's a lot going on, and i just really need you."

he looks guilty as he pulls you into a warm hug, one that takes you off guard but that you return gratefully. "you've been too busy spending time with heather and with your parents, and i understand that, i just - you know, i miss you." you say, voice muffled as your cheek is squished into his shoulder. he sighs shakily, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “i know i’ve been with her a lot, i’m sorry sugar.” he mutters.

it feels like you’re both holding something back from the other.

"i wish i were heather." you say against his shoulder, knowing richie’s completely unaware of the depth of your statement. but he pulls back and stares at you, an unknown look on his face. you open your mouth to say something, but you're cut off before you can get anything out.

and his lips fall against yours lightly, almost as if they’re ghosts against yours. his presence feels fleeting.

you barely close your eyes and press closer to him before you snap out of it, jerking backwards with wide eyes.

richie’s eyes fall open too as he looks at you questioningly. your heart is thumping heavy as you shake your head, more shocked than you thought ever possible. “what?” he asks, as if he’s surprised you’re not kissing back.

you give him a sad, broken look. you think you’ll cry as you mutter, "why would you ever kiss me? i'm not - i'm not nearly as pretty as her, i'm just-"richie suddenly looks like he might get sick, his face paler than usual as the steam from your tea dwindles idly between you. he cuts you off. "-why are you - why are you saying all these things y/n/n-”

“heather. you like heather.” you say frantically, trying to remind him so you dont have to live through this fresh faced heartbreak twice as painful if he kisses you again.

but richie shakes his head, and your confusion skyrockets just as much as your heartbeat."no. a-amy asked her out." he says breathlessly. "-she said yes."

you blink, pulling even further away as it dawns on you. "wait. so... so you only want to see me after the girl you wanted finds someone else?" you ask, watching as the smile gets smacked off of richie's face so quickly you think it may give him whiplash. "wait, no-" he starts, but you shake your head.

“richie, do you understand how hurtful that is?” you say, voice heavy as you try not to let tears fall.

he shakes his head, eyes glossing with tears as he gapes at you, “n-no, y/n-“

“fuck, richie. i know you know about my feelings for you. how could you do this? i’m not heather, i’m reminded that every time i’m in the same room as the two of you. she’s had you completely mesmerized for the last month, you can’t just use me to distract yourself.” you say, your tea completely forgotten as a tear escapes your eye.

he shakes his head, looking at you with an emotion you don’t have the energy to decipher. “leave, richie.” your voice is broken and it shakes as you look away from him.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but when richie stands up silently you dont even look away from the window. you see him wipe his cheek in your peripheral before he sighs quietly and walks out of your room, shutting the door quietly.

you cry openly as you hear your door shut downstairs, your hands shaking as you cover your face, your shoulders shaking with sobs. you make it under your covers just as you hear a car engine sputter outside, your heart empty and lips still tingling as the feeling of richie’s lips linger on yours. you groan into your pillow and let out another sob, your eyes squeezing in agony as your heart feels like it’s ripping in two.

because even if they’re not together, richie still likes her.

why couldn’t you be heather?

you cry until you’re asleep, your now cold mug of tea resting on the windowsill as your phone charges next to you and snow swirls in the dark sky.

when you wake up the next morning, your headache is nearly blinding. you feel like crying more as you remember last night. you roll over and rub your eyes, unlocking your phone groggily.

but you check your notifications and your heart immediately stops as you see a missed call from richie at 3:49 in the morning last night, and a voicemail left a minute later.

well, you guess he got his phone back.

your fingers tremble as they hover above the play button, feeling like you may vomit from anxiety - the message he left is two minutes long.

closing your eyes, ready for even more heartbreak, you press play and hold the speaker to your ear.

“um, y/n.” the voicemail starts off, and you’re already tearing up because richie’s voice is full to the brim with anxiety and he’s not using his usual nicknames for you.

“uh... okay, i- i know it’s four in the morning, and you’re probably asleep - god, i hope you are, and that you’re not ignoring me. not that i dont deserve it, but i just want you to get good rest. uh, a-anyways. fuck,” there’s an awkward pause and you’re holding your breath.

“you know i’m not good with phone calls or voicemails-“ his rambling just adds to your anxious feeling, but you think if you don’t listen to this, your anxiety would eat you alive.

“- fuck, i don’t know how to say this. kind of ironic, i guess, since i’ve been thinking about saying it like every day for probably more than a year- okay, i’m... god, spit it out, trashmouth.” his voice gets thicker and you can hear the emotion as he takes a shallow breath.

“y/n/n, you make my hands shake. i swear, my heart feels like it’s going to backfire and explode when we touch... and it scares me so fucking bad.” you feel your heart halt in your chest, the air leaving your lungs.

you keep the phone pressed tightly to your ear as richie’s recorded voice goes on.

“-fuck, y/n. i’m terrified. sometimes i think.... like, whoever created me... they designed me just to be yours. and... it’s not in the same way i feel about bev, or bill, or eddie-“ his voice breaks as he sniffs on the other end and it dawns on you that he’s crying. “-you’re you. you’re y/n. i tried to like heather as more than just a friend. but...” it’s silent for a second.

“i just kept comparing her to you. i do that with everybody. i think i’m broken. i love you so much that it hurts.” he’s crying enough by now that it’s leaking into his speech; he’s hiccuping, stuttering slightly, his inflection changing as you can almost picture the tears rolling off his thick eyelashes and onto his rosy cheeks.

“-and i can’t sleep right now knowing that i hurt you like this. i can’t believe that i let you think of yourself as lesser than heather in any way-“ he sobs quietly in the recording and takes a stuttering breath. "i can’t believe i put myself before you. i’m such a shitty friend. i should’ve been giving you my stupid fucking sweaters the whole time.”

tears are pouring out of your eyes as you sit up, ripping the comforter off your legs. you’re pulling on socks and your shoes as you continue to listen to richie’s voicemail.

“i’m sorry that i kissed you, and i’m sorry that i dragged you into this m-mess, that i used heather as an excuse to ignore my feelings for you. i-i love you so fucking much, and i’m just so scared of hurting you. i’m so sorry that i hurt you, y/n.”

you have to see him.

“-and, um, i’m sorry i left this voice message. this is probably the worst way to find this out but i figured that it would be easier for us to ignore if it wasn’t in person- y’know, because you don’t have to respond. just- now you know. that i’m sorry, and that i don’t expect you to forgive me or want to speak to me for a while. i just- i need you to know that you’re so loved, y/n. and that you deserve so much better than me.

“so, um, okay. i’ll let you sleep now. b-bye.” he whispers the end and then the line cuts dead.

you’re left with shaking breath and tears in your eyes as his voice rings in your head. you try to take in what he’s just said, but you think you’re about to pass out.

how can richie love you back?

you brush your teeth almost aggressively as your heart beats erratically in your chest and then you’re suddenly flying down the snowy road towards the tozier’s house.

you realize too late that you look completely awry, hair unbrushed, eyes puffy and swollen, shoes untied as you knock on the front door of richie's house.

went opens the door, richie’s younger sister sat on his hip as he smiles at you, "y/n! long time no see. richie's upstairs in his room."

you smile at him in thanks, too rushed to say anything to him or munch. then you’re all but sprinting up the stairs, only feeling the anxiety as you throw open the door to his bedroom.

you're relieved that he's laying in his bed, surrounded by pillows and fluffy comforters as he jumps from the noise of your arrival.

when he sits up, neither of you say anything. his eyes are red and rimmed with tears, a heartbreaking sight as his lower lip trembles slightly. you're sure you look the same as you take a step towards his bed, your eyes not leaving each other's for a second.

he looks incredible, still.

"y/n..." he whispers finally, his eyes wide. "did you get my message?" he says, lips tilting in a stupid, forced smile. his voice holds no humor in it's sad thickness, though, and you sigh as you look down to the carpet.

you shake your head, "can you not joke for a minute, rich?"

he laughs wetly, standing up fully and although he towers at 6'0, he looks so small. "i can try, doll, but then i'll start to cry a lot, and that's just not what anybody wants-"

"richie." you say, effectively ceasing his rambling. it's cold in his room, bright white from the snow outside, and silent. he looks at you with huge eyes and a red nose.

but you don't know what to say. you’ve spent so long wanting to be heather, but now you've found out that richie's loved you this whole time. it hurts, but you can't wait another second being away from richie.

you launch yourself towards him, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your mouth.

this time, the kiss is warm, unexpected again but much more loving. it's a kiss that tastes like tears and love and trust, and all you can feel is richie as his hands find purchase on your cheek and back, pulling you so close to him that you can feel is rapid heartbeat.

he pulls back to mumble against your lips, "i'm so sorry." you shake your head, pressing another kiss to his and loving the feeling of richie against you finally. "i love you." you say, feeling his grin against your mouth.

"i love you so much." he says, pulling you lightly to fall onto his bed with him and tickling your sides.

you laugh lightly, swatting at his prodding fingers. "please stop crying." he whispers, laying above you with a small smile. you roll your eyes, "you stop crying rich." you retort, and he shakes his head, one of his tears falling onto your cheek. you jump from the feeling and wipe it away, sniffling a gasp and pulling him into a tight hug, his legs tangling with yours.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles. you cup his cheeks so his lips pucker out and you smile at him, whispering, “i forgive you, rich. i love you.” and then you place a soft kiss to his lips and he kisses you back enthusiastically. he pulls back and hugs you again, burrowing himself in your neck.

"i didn't think i'd ever get you." he says, muffled by his face in your shoulder. "thank you for trusting me. i love you so much." he kisses your collarbone lightly and your fingers play through his curls lightly as you smile, eyes closing. you're so tired.

"i love you more, richie."

you fall asleep with richie curled up beside you, his breath light on your chest and arms clutching you against him. you fall asleep with richie’s lips on your neck, his legs entangled with yours.

you fall asleep contently, knowing that you no longer have to wish you were heather.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @brxken-heartsclub @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters <33

#richie tozier x reader #losers x reader #losers club x reader #jewish richie tozier #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #beverly marsh x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

Our First Defeat

Chapter 1: You’ve Cut Me to the Bone

Uh, oh- guess what time it is? That’s right chicks, dicks, and everyone in betwix(t)....

It’s ‘another series that should’ve just been a straightforward one shot’ time!!!!

This is probably going to be at least a four parter, so buckle up buttercups.

Warnings: Smut, infidelity, oral, cum play, longing, ANGST, Lewis being a shitty husband to Katherine, run-on sentences, feels, probably OOC Nixy-poo, childhood f2l mention, mentions of prom sex so underage I guess(?), potty words, rich people parties, reader is tipsy when they boink but so is Nix and it’s pre-established desire so idk man

Special thanks to @sunsetmando for being my constant idea sounding board and cheerleader and to @liebgotttme and @mrsalwayswrite for their unfalteringly supportive praise despite my constant self-inflicted shit talking!

Title and chapter names will come from the first defeat by noah gundereson

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Say what you wanted to about Doris and Stan Nixon, but they sure threw one hell of a party.

Waiters in sharp suits, sparkling crystal glasses filled with golden champagne, marble floors polished to a near reflective shine- nothing but the very best for the engagement party for Mrs. Nixon’s baby boy.

If your heart hadn’t already become calloused from heartbreak, you probably would burst into tears.

You’d known the Nixons all of your life, and with Nixon being a year and a half your senior and his younger sister being three years your junior, the three of you had little choice to become anything other than close. Even when Lewis had grown old enough to get sick of girls and their games of dress up and make-believe, you and he still managed to get along.

You were both the oldest children in your families, and for a while you had also attended the same advanced reading course offered by your private elementary school’s librarian. Your shared love of books had bonded you nearly as much as your shared birth orders, and it wasn’t uncommon for your parents to find you both nose deep in one of your father’s large tomes of mythology.

It surprised no one that the two of you became close as you got older.

What did strike both of your families as odd was just how close you two stayed- especially when you both started attending your respective boy’s and girl’s boarding schools. You’d been each other’s penpals, school dance dates, and summer trip companions.

After your Junior prom, you’d lost your virginities to each other after polishing off two bottles of lethally strong port wine. Nixon, sex-drunk and just plain old drunk-drunk, had insisted that he’d done ‘other things’ with girls- that he wasn’t really a virgin but he’d yet to actually do the act.

As if he was worried that you’d make fun of him.

As if you’d think less of him for it.

Of course, things had changed once college came around.

He became busy with his studies, and you had thrown yourself into attaining your nursing credentials. He’d gotten a fair share of girlfriends and you’d had a few relationships of your own.

When your families would get together for holidays and birthdays, the two of you would inevitably sneak off and fuck until one of you decided that someone was going to notice your absences.

Then, after rejoining everyone else for an appropriately deemed amount of time, you’d rush off again to repeat the cycle. Sex with Lewis was everything you’d been told you shouldn't want- hard and desperate and just left of dirty but God did you love it. You loved the way your bodies fit together, the way his breath felt on your neck as he held onto you so tightly that you thought he might leave bruises. The way he kissed you as if he were drinking the air from your lungs, like he needed your lips in order to breathe, to live.

More than anything, you loved the ease that existed between you two- the way you both helped the other redress and how he would take your face in his hands and call you sweet things as he gave you languid kisses before giving you a wicked grin and guiding you both back to the party.

It wasn’t ideal, and more often than not you’d feel hollow again after a few days, but your trysts with Lew were the closest thing you had to a consistent relationship.

When Pearl Harbor happened, you’d made the decision to enlist as a field nurse. Nixon had begun to attend an Officer’s school, so you’d already started to resign yourself to the fact that this fling of yours could never be anything more than just that, a fling. Apparently he had, too.

You’d felt like you had been punched in the stomach when you heard about Katherine.

He hadn’t even told you that he was seriously seeing someone, let alone considering marrying anyone.

It had hurt more than you wanted to admit.

How you managed to keep a straight face when his mother proudly told you and your mother about the engagement, you’ll never know.

All you did know was that he’d made a choice, and it wasn’t you.

And you had to get over it.

Even so, it had still taken both your mother and your father to convince you to come to this party tonight. Your brother and sister had been allowed to stay home- they were still considered too young to attend such frivolous events.

Lucky bastards.

But you’d let your mother dress you in a velvet gown of indigo-violet decorated with rhinestones across the bodice and sleeves, allowed your younger sister to braid your hair in a halo around your head (despite your mother’s plea for you to wear it in a more fashionable and mature style) and even gotten a grumble of a compliment from your sulking teenage brother and greeted the Nixon’s with the same amount of warmth you always had.

If nothing else, finishing school had taught you well when it came to hiding your true feelings.

Katherine was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, her hair shiny and her skin perfect and her body curvy and tight in all the right places. Her sky blue dress draped across her form perfectly, as if it had been made for her.

Her hands were graceful and delicate- the perfect canvas for the huge diamond ring Nix had bestowed upon her.

To make matters worse? You liked her.

She was smart and well-spoken, with a habit of interrupting someone mid-sentence but that wasn’t enough to make you dislike her.

“Lew’s sung your praises for years,” Katherine had smiled smally after you’d introduced yourself to her. “it’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name….”

“It’s all lies, most likely,” you assured with a grin, a sudden realization hitting you. “Speaking of Little Lew—”

Katherine rolls her eyes and offers a conspiratory whisper.

“Pretty sure he’s stress smoking somewhere upstairs. I’ve been trying to get him to quit—”

You snort at that. “Then you are far braver than most, and you have my respect.”

You look over your shoulder, frowning as you took in the scene.

Turning back to Katherine, you give her a nod.

“I’ll hurry him along,” you murmur softly. “Drag him down by the ear if I’ve got to—”

“Consider my respect earned in kind, then.”

Sharing a smile, you politely excuse yourself and slip away up the stairs.

You had a feeling that you knew exactly where Nix was hiding.

The formal library was dark wood and warm leather, with deep seats and cigar smoke stained books that sat on shelves so high that even the tallest man needed to utilize the built-in ladder to reach the top.

As children, you and Lewis had spent countless hours reading of far-away lands and exotic adventures, darting back and forth between whatever book you’d decided on and the grand globe by the window to trace your fingers over countries neither of you would probably ever actually visit.

This room held your sweetest memories, as well as some of your racier ones.

Finding Lewis in here was only fitting.

He looked unbearably handsome- sat on the windowsill with the wind fluttering his hair across his forehead while the moon lit up his profile and made him look like some exquisite marble statue.

The cigarette between his lips reminded you of all the times he’d smoke after fucking you, the way he’d exhale the smoke into your parted lips before kissing you so deeply your toes would curl.

“I could get used to this,” he’d said, after one of your last trysts.

“What, smoking yourself to death in your dad’s library?”

He’d shot you a glare before attacking your neck with kisses that left you giggling from how they tickled your skin.

“No, Smartass,” Lewis said as he nudged your nose with his, a lazy smile clear on his face when he lifted his head away from you enough to meet your eyes. “This, with you. Not having to rush off before your mom comes looking for you. It’s nice….”

That felt like a lifetime ago.

“If you frown at the moon any longer,” you call out, smirking at the way he startles before realizing it’s just you. “You’re gonna get a wrinkle before all the wedding photos.”

He shoots you a look, shaking his head before turning to stub out the cigarette in the silver ashtray.

“Not even gonna lull me into a false sense of security before giving me shit, huh?”

With a practiced ease, he gently slides the window back into place and locks it, fanning the lingering wafts of smoke from around his face before turning to fully face you.

A familiar smile crosses his face that has you rolling your eyes.

“Well, I’ve gotta get all I can out of my system- now that you’ve gone and replaced me.”

With another withering look, Lew comes up and kisses your cheek before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and another around your waist to lower you into a dipped hug.

“Hey now,” he grumbles into the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your neck and causing you to shiver. “I think you’re underestimating your talents if you think anyone can fling smartass comments my way better than you- oh!”

Twisting you back up so you’re both standing, he pushes the door to the library closed to get to the bookshelf behind it.

With curiosity, you watch him pull a book from the shelf and present it to you with a flourish.

“A gift for you, my lady.”

Rolling your eyes, you take the book in your hands and peer at the cover.

You recognize the title immediately as a Poirot mystery, a grin breaking across your lips as you realize it’s one of your favorites- a collection of short stories featuring the Belgian detective and Captain Hastings.

As you open the book, you suck in a breath when you see the scrawl of Agatha Christie’s signature across the title page, and upon further inspection, you realize it’s a first edition.

“Holy shit, Lew…” you whisper, running your fingertip across the indents in the paper her heavy-handed scrawl. “Where’d this come from? How’d you know….?”

Looking up at Lewis again, you are slightly embarrassed by the amused expression on his face, deciding to look back down rather than acknowledge how clearly he was watching your reaction.

“Well,” he begins, stepping behind you to squeeze your shoulders. “It came from a bookshop, believe it or not—”

“Lewis—”

“And as for the how….Blanche told me in one of her letters.”

That gives you pause again- the reminder that you and he hadn’t written anything to each other in quite some time.

Clearing your throat, you set the book down on one of the desks and bring a hand up to rest over one of his. “That’s very…..thank you.”

You feel him press a quick peck to the crown on your head, something you were fine with until you left the pressure of his lips lingering there.

“I hope, uh…hoped you’d also take it as a sort of, er- peace offering, of sorts….”

You feel your shoulders tense at that. The blood in your veins suddenly feels cold and dead.

You’d hoped he wouldn’t do anything like this- wouldn’t bring any of this up.

“I’m sure I don't know what you’re talking about—”

“Yes you do.”

Sucking in a sharp breath through your nose, you turn around to face him.

“There’s nothing to offer peace for,” it’s taking more effort than you like to keep your voice even. “What you do with your life is none of my business.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you should’ve heard about it from me,” he says quietly, and as his breath fans across your face you can pick up the sweet bite of whiskey beneath the smell of cigarette smoke. “That was….I should’ve been the one to tell you—”

“I don’t see why you felt you had to.” You give him a tight smile, working hard to keep yourself from scowling. “It’s not like we made any promises to each other….which I thought was the whole appeal of me, if I’m being honest.”

Lewis brings his hands up to brush against your jaw, the unexpectedly soft touch making you shudder before you can stop yourself

“You’ve got to have known that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Y/N—”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss under your breath, biting the insides of your lip and shaking your head. “That’s unfair, you can’t do this- it’s wildly unfair to Katherine, it’s not fair to me—”

Lewis scoffed at that, a rueful smirk twisting his face as he let his eyes trail down your face.

“‘Unfair’....what’s unfair is asking me to go down there and pretend like everything’s hunky-dory when you’re here, looking like everything I’ve ever wanted in my goddamned life and expecting me to act like I wasn’t wishing you were on my arm instead—”

“Jesus Christ, Lewis, that’s enough—” you cross your arms across your chest as you step back out of his touch and turn to look at the wall of books. “What’s the matter with you? I’ve always known you could be an asshole, but this is cruel, even for you—”

“How am I being an asshole?” he snaps, taking your shoulders and turning you back to face him, his frown deep and imploring. “Because I’m being honest? Huh? ‘Cause I’m telling you the truth—?”

“Because you’re telling me the truth now!” you say venomously, letting your own face morph into a scowl. “Tonight, the fucking night where we’re all here to celebrate you and Katherine getting married! You can’t just expect me to not respect that—”

“What if I told you I didn’t even want to marry her—?”

“Lower your voice!”

You don’t realize how close you’ve gotten to each other until you accidentally scuff your toes against the side of his polished shoe, something that shocks you out of your anger like a cold splash of water.

His cheeks are rosy with both drink and frustration, and you’re pretty sure that your face is flushed as well. Closing your eyes, you sigh and hang your head.

“If you didn’t want this,” you say a bit more calmly. “Then why did you ask her in the first place?”

You startle slightly at the feeling of him taking your hand, opening your eyes to watch him bring it to his clean-shaven cheek and hold it there. His eyes look tired, sad almost.

“Because I’m being shipped out soon,” he sighs heavily, twisting his head enough to press a kiss to your palm as the air whooshes out of your lungs in a pained sigh. “Because it’s what’s expected of me.”

Meeting your hesitant gaze, he offers a sad little smile and a shrug.

“Because it couldn’t be you, I didn’t really care who it was—”

Quickly, you take back control of the hand he’s holding and put your fingertips gently over his lips, your throat feeling tight at the admission.

“Don’t,” you whisper shakily. “Don’t finish that sentence….”

Taking your hand again, he moves it away from his mouth.

“Why not?” he says back just as quietly, eyes scanning your face. “Am I being an asshole?”

You shake your head, chest tightening as you take in his confession. “You’re breaking my heart all over again.”

He nods, his jaw clenching as he studies you. “I keep doing that, don’t I?”

When you don’t show any sign of amusement at his comment, he encourages you to wrap an arm around his neck as he pulls you into another borderline inappropriate embrace. A hug that was better suited for two lovers rather than two friends grieving a future that was entirely hypothetical.

His lips press to the side of your throat, inhaling the smell of your skin deeply and slowly.

“I don’t mean to,” he whispers, splaying his large hand across the small of your back. “I really want you to know that.”

You stay silent, focusing all of your energy into not crying.

Even if he had asked you to marry him, you would’ve had to say no.

Married women were unwelcome in all branches of military nursing- and you had worked too hard to ever consider giving that dream up.

Not even for Lewis Nixon….although you probably would’ve thought about it harder.

“I sometimes wish we’d never kissed,” you say with emotion in your voice, letting him hold you even closer at your hushed admission. “I wish I didn’t care about you, then we wouldn’t have to be like this…”

“I don’t,” he mumbled against your skin. “I wouldn’t take any of this back- even if I could.”

You shake your head sadly as you bring your other arm around his shoulders to more fully embrace him.

“That’s because you’re a masochist almost as much as you are a sadist—”

He groans at that, taking his face from your neck to press his cheek against yours.

“I knew getting you those Freud books was a mistake….”

This time you allow yourself to sigh a laugh. “Only because they seem to hit the nail on the head when it comes to explaining why you are how you are.”

“An asshole?”

“Yeah, Lew.” you gently break free of his embrace and smooth your hands down the front of his tuxedo- straightening his bowtie on the way. “Now you’re getting it.”

He looks as if he’s going to say something else, but you force a smile on your face and shake your head.

“C’mon, Mr. Nixon,” you say with a nod. “Your public awaits you. Best not keep them waiting.”

“Y/N—” He calls as you turn on your heel and walk to open the door.

“I’ll see you down there, Lewis.”

With that admonishing reminder, you open the door and hurry to find the restroom in order to collect yourself.

Dinner was going to be hell.

Of course, Doris sat you beside where Lewis was seated in the middle of the table- Katherine on his left and you on his right.

“Surrounded by his favorite girls,” Mrs. Nixon had cooed, standing behind Lewis’s chair and squeezing his shoulders excitedly. “What a lucky man you are….”

They had only just served the soup and already you wanted to crawl out of your skin.

The only things that saved you were wine and the endless stream of one-sided conversation from Katherine’s young cousin Marcus, who sat to your right.

He couldn’t have been more than sixteen- eyes wide and battle-hungry as he prattled on about the training courses he planned on enrolling in so that he could go to Japan and take revenge for the lives lost during Pearl Harbor. It served as a good distraction from the feeling of Lew’s eyes on your profile, silently begging you to turn and look at him.

You didn’t give in.

Marcus’s heart was in the right place, and it wasn’t his fault that you were trying to drown your distress in the sea of white wine you were creating inside of your belly.

But you had the feeling that if you had to listen to any more talk of what his brother had told him about the Navy and how prestigious their ships were, you were going to smack your head against the table until you passed out.

The only person who seemed to pick up on your distress was Lewis, and right now you were pretty committed to ignoring his attempts of conversation- hoping that by doing so you were strong-arming him into actually talking to Katherine, who was being so charming and well mannered that you felt like you were suffocating.

As you brought your fourth glass of wine to your lips, Lew decided to speak rather than just look.

“Think maybe you should slow down, Y/N?” Lewis says it quietly enough that only you and Katherine can hear him, and when you turn to face him you catch the sight of the other woman suppressing a chuckle into her glass of sparkling water.

A drop of resentment stains your previously high regard for her- her slight amusement being amplified to condescension in your current bitter state.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, Little Lewie,” you say with a light slur in your voice- one that only those who truly knew you would be able to detect.

As a child, you’d had a slight speech impediment that you’d grown out of with proper training and practice. It was only when you were overly tired or when you drank that it slipped back into your speech.

You could feel that now, its presence heavy on your tongue.

“Just gettin’ it outta my system while I’ve still got the chance……”

When you're able to find his eyes with your own, you see the concern shining in them and suddenly feel like you want to cry.

You can’t help but think that this could’ve been yours- your engagement party, your future.

You’d say that the ring on Katherine’s finger could’ve been yours as well, but if you were being honest you found it too gaudy and flashy for your taste.

Lewis probably would’ve known that, too….would’ve chosen something significantly smaller and much more simple to present to you while down on one knee.

But he’s not mine, should’ve stopped thinking of him as mine a long time ago.

Without another word to him you slid your chair back from the table and stood, nodding appreciatively to the butler who instantly appeared to scoot the chair back into place.

Your mother, who was sitting closer to the door, gave you a worried look as you made to walk past her, silently asking if you were alright.

With a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, you gently placed your hand on her shoulder in false reassurement that you were just fine. You mouth the word ‘bathroom’, as you passed her and exited the dining room.

How you managed not to run up the staircase in search of somewhere you could let your mask of contentment fall away, you have no idea.

But you did. Your finishing school teachers would’ve been proud.

Rushing through the library you knew better than the back of your hand, you quickly found the small, slightly hidden room behind a sculpture that held all the wealth of paper and writing supplies.

The door barely shuts behind you before you suck in a shaking breath, face hot with tears you were refusing to shed. Each exhale sounds as if it’s being punched out of you, hands reaching out into the dark to feel for the wall so you can find the small footstool to sit upon.

You were right, you couldn’t do this.

It was too much, despite how desperately you’d tried to callous over the raw part of your heart that still ached for him. Resting your head in your hands, you try to slow your breathing, to muffle to sobs begging to be freed from your chest.

The sound of the door clicking open has you shooting to your feet in surprise, the wine in your blood making itself known as you teeter slightly and you have to brace your hand against the wall to steady yourself.

The snap of the light being turned on makes you squint at the sudden brightness, the sight of Lewis breathing heavily as he leans against the door to close it behind him making your heart race even faster.

“You shouldn’t-” you have to sniff quickly before finishing your admonishment. “You really shouldn’t be here, Lewis.”

He nods, his Adam's apple jumping in his throat as he swallows, eyes trailing up and down your body. “I know.”

Even as he says it, Lewis starts walking towards you. “I should go….”

Your own breathing has become deep and heavy, lips parted to accommodate the sudden desperate need for more air in your lungs.

Mind having failed you, you search for the right words to send him away- to tell him that what’s about to happen is wrong and that you’re just making it harder on yourselves in the long run.

But all you can think as he reaches you, his hands coming up to hold your face with an unmistaken intention, is that you are going to explode if he doesn’t kiss you right now.

Lucky for you, his thoughts seem to be similarly inclined.

He kisses you so hard that you think your lips will bruise, his hands pulling your face so desperately close that his eyelashes tickle your cheeks as his eyes squeeze shut.

As you moan somewhere deep in your throat, Lewis opens his mouth to swallow the sound. His hair is soft in your hands, your fingers fisting and pulling at it until he makes a groan of his own.

You allow yourself to rise up on your toes to make his head tilt back slightly, gasping into his lips when he suddenly uses his grip on your face to pull your mouth back from his.

He licks his bottom lip, whispering your name so you open your eyes and look at him with a heavy-lidded gaze.

“I-I don’t want to go without one more….” he seems to be at a loss for words, which for Lewis Nixon is truly unusual. But you think you can read his frustrated silence.

Your eyes search his dark ones, uncurling your fists from his roots to bring your thumbs to his forehead and smooth the concerned furrow in his brow.

“Okay,” you whisper, coming down off of your toes to brush your nose against his. “Then do it.”

As if your words were a racing gun’s shot, Lewis hungrily kisses you again- backing you up against the wall and clutching at you with carnal desperation.

You lose yourself in his fervor, scratching your nails down the back of his neck just shy of leaving a mark and moving to loosen his bowtie.

He catches your hands and pins them beside your head, squeezing them in a silent request to keep them there. You nod into the kiss, gasping for breath when he tears his mouth from yours and drops to his knees before you.

Looking down your body at him, you pant lewdly as you watch his hands disappear beneath the skirt of your dress and hurriedly pull your underpants down around your ankles.

The only patience he shows is in his careful assistance of helping your step out of them, but then he is immediately returning to his pilgrimage to the warm place between your thighs- bunching the deep violet-blue fabric in one fist while his other hand encourages your thigh up and over his shoulder.

He kisses you down there just as thoroughly as he had your mouth, licking the hot petals greedily to part the way to your clit before attacking it noisily and skillfully. Your head makes a dull sound as it lolls back to hit the wall, your hips surging forward at the gentle and unintentional scrape of his teeth against the soft flesh.

In an apologetic motion, the hand holding your dress beside your waist rubbing its thumb soothingly across your side.

You allow one of your hands to drop from beside your head to rest over his, your sigh of forgiveness getting lost in a breathy keen of pleasure.

“Shit,” you sigh, bowing your head forward to watch him look up at you from between your legs. “Jesus Christ, Lewis!”

Rather than take his mouth from you to reply, he elects to moan into your sex, the vibration striking somewhere deep inside of you that has your thighs quaking. Your eyes drift closed as he continues to suckle on you, the sound of him inhaling sharply through his nose making you feel dizzy with heady desire.

It had been almost a year since he’d last gone down on you- only because that was the last time you were afforded enough time for such foreplay.

And he’d only gotten better at it.

With careful yet distracted motions, he maneuvers the hand covering his so you are now holding your skirt up and out of the way for him. You open your eyes at the same moment you feel his fingers curl inside of you, an airy mewl slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

“I’m gonna cum,” you mumble stupidly down at him, finally bringing your other hand down to fist in his hair again as you begin to see the white-hot orgasm creeping into the sides of your vision. “Too soon….I’m sorry, it’s too soon—!”

His intentional humming around your bud paired with the cruelly perfect crook of his fingers sends your careening over the precipice of pleasure.

Your body shakes and your hips buck uncontrollably as he refuses to relent his near fervent milking of your orgasm.

You keep expecting him to stop, to pull away from you and start to seek his own release.

But he just doesn’t stop.

“What’re you doing?” you ask brokenly, keening into another moan as he slips one more finger inside of you. “Get up here and—ohhh!”

“Again, “ you hear him grunt into you with a near frantic tone. “Give me one more….”

You’re absolutely lost as he ushers you into another orgasm, mouth feeling dry from the open mouth panting you’ve had to resort to in order to remain lucid.

“I need you,” you whimper pathetically, your eyes open and unseeing as you gasp for breath in a vain attempt at cooling the fire burning in your body. “Please, I need you inside me….please, Lewis!”

It feels like he’s only just unsealed his lips from your sex when suddenly his tongue is in your mouth and his hand is cupped around the back of your head, kissing you languidly as your thrumming ears pick up on the soft sounds of fabric being untucked and trousers being shoved open and down.

Before you can manage to find the coordination to bring your hands down to help him free his cock, you feel him bringing the same thigh that had been over his shoulder up to hook around his hip.

With a familiarity that aches in both your heart and your core, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and nod into the kiss, just as you had that first time in your dorm room after the night of your Junior prom.

After one more soft peck, Lewis sheaths himself fully inside of you.

Your face twists at the abrupt fullness that stretches your sex to the sweet-stinging point that you ache for more often than you liked to admit, eyes flashing open in euphoric alarm as the man you’d loved since you were fifteen fucked into you with a punishing pace.

Apparently, he was just as desperate for you as you had been for him.

It’s now he who is making desperate noises that have to be muffled, his face buried into the slope where your shoulder meets your neck.

At some point, he’s managed to undo the button at the top of the back of your dress, nosing the fabric around your collarbones open so he can latch his lips to the flesh at the curve of your shoulder- worrying at the skin with tongue, teeth, and lips.

If you were in a teasing mood, you’d accuse him of having an oral fixation.

Lewis would make another comment about how much he regretted giving you the books by Sigmund Freud.

You’d try to offer some witty retort, only to be cut off by him pinching at your clit and biting at your lip.

It was so easy, everything with him just felt so good and comfortable and warmly familiar.

As if he can hear your thoughts, he presses his temple to yours so his lips are at your ear.

“It should be you,” he nearly whines. “I’ve only ever wanted you—”

The sob that bursts past your lips is so bitter and childish that even Lewis seems to notice through his haze, pulling his head back in time to catch sight of the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he grunts as he kisses the tears off of your skin. “I love you and I’m sorry.”

Just as your first moan had been, your first deep sob is captured by his mouth. Your lips are salty and you can feel from his shaking lips that he’s struggling to keep his own upset at bay.

The hand that was holding your thigh wraps around it to press a thumb against your clit, and you can’t stop the stream of babbling that follows the movement.

You can’t shut up about how much you love him and how angry you are with him and how badly you wished things were different.

“I know,” he mumbles to each admonishment and devotion you utter, his voice becoming tight as you intentionally squeeze down on him with everything that you’d got. “I know, I know, Please love me anyway, I know.”

It’s the sound of Lewis coming undone that sends you into your second orgasm, holding on for dear life as he brokenly thrusts into you a few more times before yanking himself away to spill himself onto the wall beside you- bracing his arm there as you blindly reach down to stroke him as well.

You both stand there, breathing as if you’d both just sprinted across the fields behind his house.

Using the wall as a support, you turn to face him and press your forehead to his sweaty temple, the hand of the arm against the wall moving to rest atop your head as he shudders and stills in your hand.

“Good,” you breathlessly praise him as you gently release his cock. “So fucking good….”

As you bring your hand to your mouth to suck it clean, Lewis curses lowly as his eyes follow the movement, like you’ve hurt him somehow.

Before you can reach your hand down to get more, Nix grabs your wrist and holds it in the air.

“Don’t you dare,” he whooshes out with an exhale, turning his head to kiss you deeply enough that you know he can taste himself. “I’m gonna fucking cum again if you do shit like that…”

You give him a small smile, pecking a quicker kiss on his lips.

“Didn’t think you’d be open to letting me lick it from you directly.”

His wicked smile is lazy, wrapping his arm around your waist as you make to push yourself away and twisting your bodies so he’s now the one leaning against the wall with you pressed against him.

‘Not yet,” he pleads into the crook of your neck. “Please, not just yet.”

And, because you’re a terrible and weak person, you stay.

When his fingers start to undo the buttons holding your dress together in the back, you shake your head.

“One more,” he murmurs as your dress starts to fall loose around your shoulders. “Just once more….”

Despite knowing how much you’re going to hate yourself for doing so, you nod and lower your arms so your dress pools around your feet.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Just once more.” ~ ~ ~ (HELLO I LOVE YOU AND SORRY FOR ANOTHER SERIES WHEN I HAVE ONLY EVER ACTUALLY FINISHED ONE BUT THIS IS WHO I AM AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT THEN I AGREE WITH YOU, TBH)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @liebgotttme

also let me know if you want to be added to le taglist bc i am a silly lily who will forget unless i’m constantly reminded

also also here’s the dress i used for reference bc what are outfits

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #lewis nixon x reader #problematicfavesareproblematic

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