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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨1

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Yay, mob Clark. And I know what you’re saying right now, enough with Clark Kent! I get it haha. Promise, for a while, this will be the last I do of him. I have Lee fic in the work right now, the early development of medieval Peter, and I’m still sitting on some Loki ft. an exchange student... and then all my other series of course!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You stood against the wall, chewing your lip as you looked around the gallery. You should be ecstatic, you should be floating around on a cloud, but all you could feel was crushing anxiety. It was truly a dream come true; your art hanging on the wall. Only three pieces, but it was there, and your name was below it in print.

You tugged on the waist of your dress and teetered in your heels. It was a borrowed outfit, you couldn’t afford anything appropriate to the upscale venue. The classic starving artist, or almost. You slipped your phone from your purse and up your sleeve. You subtly checked the time and for the little chat icon in the corner. Still no message.

Marcus was almost an hour late. He texted just after the event opened to warn you he was caught up with work but you worried he wouldn’t show up at all. It wasn’t his fault his boss was a jackass but you weren’t prepared to face this alone. You dropped your phone back into your slender purse and snapped it shut.

Vanessa, the gallery owner, made you flinch as she appeared almost out of the air. You smiled at her shyly and stopped chewing your lip.

“You should mingle,” she said, “you have an interested buyer. You might have a few more if you come out from the corner.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” you confessed, “I-- thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“You earned it,” she touched your arm daintily, “all those hard hours working the back room, I couldn’t not hang a few pieces.”

You fixed your posture and tried to seem as confident as her. Your income came solely from hours of at-home data entry as you volunteered at the gallery in your few hours between. It was all worth it and maybe if you sold something tonight, Vanessa would feature you work again and you wouldn’t need to spend the bulk of your days staring at tiny font.

“So, where’s this buyer?” you asked hopefully.

“That’s my girl,” Vanessa trilled, “he seems very interested.”

She led you across the room, stopping to greet other artists and old friends with a kiss on the cheek and deep laughter. You’d met them all before as you were often working at these events. It was your first time as one of them.

When at last you neared your little stretch of the wall, a man stood with his head slightly back as he stared at your proto-renaissance portraits. He was tall and his broad shoulders strained the rich fabric of his jacket. His dark hair was neatly parted and a slight curl marked the front above the shadow of scruff poking out along his jawline.

“Mr. Kent,” Vanessa chimed, “I found her.”

He turned to look at you and his deep blue eyes struck you. He smiled between you and the gallery owner, his chiseled jaw even more defined by the gesture.

“This is Mr. Kent,” she introduced you in turn, “I believe he was interested in the larger piece.”

“All three, if you don’t have another buyer lined up,” he intoned, “I think they belong together.”

“All of them?” you raised your brows, “well, I, yeah, I guess--”

“We can put something together for you,” Vanessa interrupted your awkward stuttering, “let me just mark them.”

She took the silver pen she kept on a chain around her wrist and scribbled in the corner of the tags to mark them as sold. You were slightly numb at your disbelief. You were a bit reluctant to part with your work but the check would ease your grief.

“The way you use colours,” he said as he faced the paintings again, “I’ve recently had some work done in my house and I hate the sight of naked walls.”

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped a little closer and looked at your delicate strokes.

“Pardon me,” Vanessa rushed away as she beckoned to one of her assistants and prattled orders.

“Vanessa tells me you’re a new artist,” he said.

“New in a sense,” you said, “I guess, I’m officially an artist now.”

“Oh? I’m flattered. Your first buyer?”

“Besides some online fanart, yeah,” you replied, “so, Mr. Kent, what do you do?”

“Clark,” he corrected, “and a little bit of everything.”

An awkward silence took over and was thankfully interrupted by your name. You turned as Marcus rushed over and his shoes slipped on the polished floor. He reached you and kissed your cheek as he caught his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I got caught in traffic on the way over and then my oil light started flashing,” he gasped out.

“Hey, you’re here,” you rubbed his shoulder and straightened his tie without thinking as it hung at an angle.

“So, you sell anything yet?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, um, Mr-- Clark,” you gestured to the man standing patiently to the side, “he just bought all three.”

“Damn,” Marcus said, “guess I can hold onto my savings.”

“Marc,” you nudged his arm with your knuckles, “you know we can’t afford your cheesiness.”

“Sorry, uh,” Marcus laughed at himself, “I’m Marcus.”

He held out his hand and Clark shook it. His eyes strayed to you as his features sharpened just a little.

“You two…?” he ventured.

“Five years,” Marcus announced, “guess we’re going steady.”

“Oh,” Clark nodded placidly, “are you an artist too?”

“God no, I can hardly write my own name legibly,” Marcus kidded, “I’m a developer.”

“Computers,” Clark mused.

“Yeah, computers,” Marcus scoffed, “and you?”

“Own a couple businesses,” Clark shrugged.

“Must be successful if you can hang around here,” Marcus said and you elbowed him in embarrassment.

“I guess,” Clark smoothed his dark purple jacket and checked his watch, “I’ll let you two be. Maybe I’ll find something to go with these fine pieces.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, “I’m happy to see my work go to a good home.”

“I hope to see more in future,” he returned kindly.

He turned and carried on to the statue constructed of can tabs and greeted another suited man. You looked at Marcus as he leaned in to read the tags beneath your paintings. He stood and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, ten grand?” he hissed.

“Pretty good pay for one night,” you chirped, “glad you could make it.”

“Sorry again, I… I had to redo some code. Adam was in a mood so,” he shook his head and sighed, “let’s not talk about it. Let’s celebrate.” He peeked over at the server with a tray of stemmed flutes, “and you can decide what you’re going to buy me with that check.”

“Hush,” you chided as you took a glass of champagne, “now is not the time to go over bills.”

🎨

At the end of the night, you watched one of the assistants take down your canvas and you helped wrap them in paper and twine. As you finished a loopy knot, you were surprised by the figure beside you. You looked up and set the smallest piece atop the larger ones. Clark smiled as you moved to let him pick them up.

“All yours,” you said, almost mournful to see them go.

“Thanks,” he said as he tucked them easily under his thick arm, “I forgot earlier but do you have a card? Are you open for commissions?”

“You must have a lot of walls,” you looked down and opened your purse, “I have a card and I could try a commission.”

You slid out one of the cards that had lingered in your wallet for more than a year. You handed it to him and he read the flowery font before tucking it away in his jacket.

“I do… have a lot of walls,” he said with a smirk, “I’ll give you a call once these are hung.”

“O-okay,” you kept from wringing your hands and closed your purse, “thank you… again.”

“My pleasure,” assured, “have a good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” you said and watched him go.

You let out a breath and smiled to yourself. You would talk to Vanessa and get your cut of the check before you went. Then you could worry about getting Marcus home. He’d had a little too much champagne and you’d left him in the backroom so you could help with the clean-up.

Vanessa bid goodbye to one of her featured artists as you neared. She turned to you and threw up her hands in delight.

“Wonderful, darling,” she said, “you earned that wall.”

“Thanks,” you grinned bashfully.

“Really. That man has never bought a piece before,” she smirked, “I’ve been dying to get into his wallet for years.”

“I never saw him before…”

“Oh, well, yes, he has not been to many of these either. I often see him at other galleries,” she explained, “I hope you have some more for the next.”

“Um, yeah, I should be able to--”

“I’ll have the check for you tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder as her eye was caught by another, “go get your boyfriend out of my studio.”

You accepted your dismissal and turned on your heel. That was just Vanessa, steely but slightly flighty as well. Besides, you were exhausted and you would likely be dragging Marcus into a cab.

You found him slumped at the paint-splattered table. You shook him awake and smiled dopily as he opened his eyes.

“Babe,” he pushed his arm around you.

“Marcus,” you drawled in disappointment, “let’s get out of here.”

“Huh?” He looked around and hiccupped, “oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You had a long day,” you assured him as you rubbed his back and let him lean on you as he stood, “I’m just happy you showed up after all that nonsense.”

“Of course, babe,” he slurred and you helped him through the door.

You kept your head down as you slowly sneaked out past Vanessa but you didn’t miss her side-eye. It was best to be as covert as possible. You came out through the door and nearly dropped Marcus.

“Jesus, can I get a little help?” you snipped as you looked around for a yellow cab.

“Sorry, baby, sorry,” he got his feet flat but it hardly helped take his weight off of you.

You raised your hand to hail a cab and he slipped down your arm. Your ankle bent as you turned to try to catch him before you dropped him entirely. He was saved from hitting the ground as he was caught by another. You looked over his head as he was pushed up to his feet again.

Clark kept his arm behind Marcus as you stared at him, “oh my god, thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he steadied your boyfriend, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you lifted your foot and kept the weight off your ankle, “I just need to get a taxi.” You raised your hand again as you tried to see past the large man, “if you don’t mind getting him in--”

“You can ride with me,” he said brusquely as he turned with Marcus and peered back at you, “this way.”

“We can’t--”

“On that ankle,” he said as you began to limp after him, “you won’t get him out on your own.”

“Really, I’m fine--”

“I don’t mind,” he said coolly as he came to a silver sports car and balanced Marcus against him as he opened the door, “I’ll need an address.”

“Uh, oh,” you folded your hands, “thank you. Really, you’ve done too much.”

“It happens. I’ve had these nights,” he put Marcus across the seat and folded his legs up and shut the door, “you can take the front and tell me where I’m going.”

You hesitated and he opened the front door. You neared and hissed as you stumbled on your ankle. You caught yourself on his arm and quickly retracted your hand as you apologized.

“It’s alright,” he said as you sat in the front seat. He knelt and gently took your ankle. His thumb rubbed the swollen joint, “you really banged yourself up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him, “thanks.”

He let go and stood. He waited for you to turn your legs into the car and gently closed the door. He rounded to the other side and got in as he fished around for his keys. He turned the engine and gripped the wheel with one hand as he took out his phone. He placed it on the magnetic holder and his fingers flicked over the screen.

“Address?” he asked.

You recited it and winced as Siri responded, ‘calculating route’. You shrunk against the luxury leather and glanced at him. He let out a huff and steered into the mostly empty street.

“I’m sorry about all this--”

“No, don’t be,” he glanced in the rearview, “he must be happy for you.”

“Yeah, uh, I think he is,” you said as he followed the map directions, “I am too. I mean, it will go along way… uh, well, you know, things can be tough or--” you shrugged, “I mean, it’s not about the money.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to be paid,” he said lightly, “and I don’t mind paying for good art.”

You looked out the window as your cheeks burned. You could smell his cologne, subtle but strong. You played with your purse as your nerves brewed in your chest. You watched the sidewalks and the street lights as your surroundings grew more familiar.

He pulled up to your building. It wasn’t the greatest area and the brick façade was faded and cracked. Before you could get out, he was at your door. He offered his hand and helped you out as you leaned on the car. He let you go and opened the back and lifted Marcus out. He hooked your boyfriend’s arm over his shoulder and offered his other arm.

“Come on,” he said.

“Look, you don’t-- there’s an elevator.”

“I’d feel better if I got you inside,” he insisted, “especially in this area.”

You relented and took his arm and limped beside him up the steps. You took out your keys and went ahead of him as he dragged Marcus in. You went to the elevator and hit the button. The doors glided open and you stepped inside. He stood close in the small metal box and Marcus murmured dumbly at his side.

The doors dinged and he let you out first. He followed you down the hall and you unlocked your apartment and waved him inside. He carried Marcus to the couch at your direction and you leaned against the armchair as you bent your leg to check your ankle.

“You should put some ice on that,” Clark said as he neared, “get some sleep yourself.”

“Yeah, I will,” you assured, “thank you, again.”

You felt embarrassed as you eyed his expensive suit and looked around your tiny apartment. It must have been laughable to him. He hardly seem bothered as he retreated to the door.

“I’ll let you then,” he said, “and thank you. I really do like your work.”

The door shut in his stead and you heard his footsteps down the long hall until the door at the end swung open. You glanced at Marcus and shook your head. You weren’t as happy to have had him at the show then.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #series #mob au #mob!au #mob!clark kent #portrait of a dangerous man #dark fic #dark!fic #superman #au #dc #dcu

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dollslayer · 3 years

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Sweeter Endings

Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the financial realities of losing your mother you turn to a lucrative website for help and get more than you could have bargained for.

W/C: 5,325

Warnings: Smut (no minors 18+ only), light D/S dynamics, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing

A/N: NO MINORS, I wrote this for @donutloverxo 's Sugary 4k Challenge (Congrats!!) I love sugar daddy AUs so I was really excited to write this!! If you like it then please like/reblog/comment I'm all ears! Also maybe check out my other stuff if you want! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

____

The saying ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’ was truer than you’d ever imagined and you found out the hard way. Life had hit you hard last year. You had watched your mother succumb very quickly to cancer. A cold that just wouldn’t go away turned into a doctor’s visit turned into three months left to live. Having no one else in her life, the cost of her funeral and medical bills fell to you. The bills outweighing the inheritance you had no choice but to drop out of school.

One year later you were hanging on by threads to keep yourself off the streets without turning to a loan shark or selling yourself. Stocking shelves at a bougie grocery store in Soho by day and bartending in Tribeca by night had you working six days a week. What free time you had you were too exhausted to do anything with. Something had to give or you were going to collapse from the stress, you just didn’t know what.

A couple weeks ago you had been casually venting about how broke you were with a coworker when she jokingly suggested signing up for one of those Sugar Daddy sites. You laughed along with her but it sounded better than getting a third job. You had quietly asked one of your roommates to borrow their laptop saying you needed to look at job postings only half a lie, really and locked yourself in your room.

You were just gonna check out the website, maybe sign up and poke around, it didn’t mean you were committing to anything, just looking. You remembered first looking at the website once your shitty wifi loaded it, promising ‘beautiful and successful people making mutually beneficial connections’. You balked after reading that but you couldn’t look at any profiles without making one yourself so you had set to work.

After making your profile you hadn’t gotten any hits in about a week so you shrugged it off. You couldn’t keep hogging your roommate’s computer anyways so you set off back to work. Your days at the store wore on into endless nights at the bar and you wondered what other options you really had when you had no degree and no experience in any relevant field.

___

6 o’clock on a Thursday night, the typical after work crowd begins to roll in. The bar you work in is upscale, classy. Definitely trying to lure in the businessmen that worked in the area and their wallets. It annoyed you to deal with the same type of customers you did at the store all over again but with the high end crowd came good tips so you couldn't complain too much.

It was busier than usual when a group of men in suits walked in together asking for a booth. You saw a lot of business meetings take place over whiskey sours in this place so you didn’t think much of it. You tried your best to keep tending to your regulars when a pair from the group came over.

One of the men had deep brown eyes and a sly grin that when split gave you the perfect view of the gap between his teeth. He was confident but he had a kind look to him. His friend had dirty blond hair and a beard that clung to his perfect jawline and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t snuck a second look. You turned your back and continued filling orders to distract yourself when one of them cleared their throat behind you.

As you turned to face them you found it was the blond calling after you. His face held a hint of surprise but it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement as he smirked and one brow lifted, like he knew something you didn’t. He was like any other typical customer for you, professional and handsome, probably over-confident in himself. You returned his smirk and prepared your best charming banter. Time to earn those tips.

“Something to drink for you, gentleman?” You offered.

“We’d like a round of scotch for the table over there. You don’t mind bringing it over, do you sweetheart?” the brown-eyed man asked.

“Of course not” you answered. Pricks.

“Good girl” the blond said with a wink. Creep. A hot creep but still. Before you could ask he took his card out of his wallet and put it on the counter for the tab.

____

A round had come and passed, soon they’d asked for another but this time it was just the blond that approached you. You lifted your eyebrows in anticipation of an order.

“You here often?” he asked. Ugh, not even a good pick up line.

“Am I here at my job often?” You retorted with a playful smile.

The man’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Sorry you just uh, you look familiar that’s all. What’s your name?”

You supplied him with it and asked him if he wanted another round of scotch. He nodded.

“Smart girl, I’m Steve by the way.” He laid down his business card which you picked up with a look of challenging curiosity. Steve Rogers, CEO of Shield inc.

Oh. You didn’t recognize the name but you definitely knew the company. It felt like a quarter of their employees stopped in for a drink throughout the week and it was prominent enough of a company that you read about it weekly. Play it cool, these types want to feel like an every-man at the bar but still wanna feel important.

You raised your eyebrows again in recognition. “Nice to meet you, Steve, I’ll have your round right out.”

“Good Girl” he winked again at you. Okay so it’s hot, but he’s a total stranger and you don’t even know him. Stay on your game.

___

10 o’clock came around and things were thinning out slightly, regulars made their way out, awkward Tinder dates and rowdy young 20-somethings made their way in. The party of businessmen was still around but they were hopefully wrapping up after the 2 more rounds they’d had. Steve approached the bar once more and you preemptively picked up the bottle of scotch.

“Whoa, easy, girl! I’m here to pick up the tab” He said, taking out his wallet.

“What’s the name on the tab?” You decided to play dumb but based off the grin on his face he knew you were playing with him.

“Steve. Rogers.” He replied, his tone was stern but his eyes told you he was in on the joke.

You cashed him out and left him to sign his receipt so you could make more drinks. You saw him move in your peripheral and turned your head to see his face.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. I’ll be seein’ ya” he promised.

“Take care!” You smiled back.

A few minutes later you circled back to collect his receipt and found three $100 bills staring back at you. You blinked dumbly in disbelief, who the hell leaves a 200% tip? Looking around to see if Steve was still here he was nowhere to be found. You had no choice but to pocket the money.

____

Another week went by and left you wondering how much energy and concentration it would take for you to just evaporate, since that seemed easier than going to work today. Sadly still in solid form, you punched in at the store and stowed your things in your locker.

Your upscale customer base was a mostly pretentious and successful group of yuppies so even though you were grateful to not be on the streets you were constantly reminded of the professional success you couldn’t help but feel that you were missing out on. Stuck instead to listen to incessant whining ‘is this organic? I won’t eat it unless it’s organic’.

The upside of this job was that the time went by quickly because you always had so much to do. Plus with how monotonous the work was it was easy enough to zone out. So much so that you hadn’t heard someone calling your name and approaching you. A hand softly touching your shoulder snapped you into the present.

You looked up, startled to find a pair of blue eyes staring back into yours. You took a step back and processed who it was. “CEO guy?” Steve?

“‘CEO guy?’ I thought I recognized you, ‘barmaid’ or should I say… ‘stock girl?’” He joked using his fingers to make quotations.

Now that you thought about it, the store isn’t that far at all from the bar, it would make sense if he’s in the area. You smiled and tapped your nametag in response.

“I just came in on my lunch to grab a few groceries” looking down at his basket it held some protein powder, some eggs, and one lonely banana. “Clearly, I’m single. But you’d know that already, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows twinged together in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me?”

He edged a little closer to you and lowered his voice “SeekingConnection.com?”

Your eyes widened in shock. The fucking Sugar Daddy site! I forgot about that! Surprise was quickly replaced with humiliation. You looked down and away as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you” Steve placated, “But I gotta say, I’m pretty hurt you never responded to me. I sent that message weeks ago and let’s just say I’m not used to rejection.” He kept his tone light, letting you know he wasn’t mad.

“I-I um, I’m sorry, I don’t have a computer and they don’t have an app, I was using my roommates’ computer and I guess I forgot about it…” You admitted.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. Please say something to salvage this conversation. Please.

“Well,” Steve rummaged in his pocket for another business card. “You got a pen on you?”

You dug around in your apron and came up with one. Handing it to him you watched as he wrote on the back of the card. He held the card and the pen out to you.

“That’s my number, I’d ask for yours but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, you already look like you wanna sink through the floor” Not helping, but I do. You took them from him and tucked them away in the pocket of your apron.

“You do have a phone right?” You only glared at him in response. “Well, if you check your profile, you would’ve seen I asked you out to lunch, offer still stands. Just text me when you’re free”

Should I even say yes? I mean, the winking the other night was weird but he’s good looking and at least somewhat considerate. I mean, it’s not like I had any other intention when I signed up for that site. What the hell. right?

“I… usually work mid shifts so I don’t know if lunch is doable, they only give me half an hour but, maybe we could do coffee? I’ve got tomorrow off from the bar I could meet you” you suggested.

If Steve felt pity for you he hid it well behind the wide smile he made when you offered coffee instead.

“There’s a place around the corner from here, just up a block, you know it? I’m off tomorrow at 6, why don’t you meet me there?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He winked at you again and started walking away. What the hell just happened?

____

You did end up borrowing your roommate’s computer once again when you got home to look up Steve’s DM. Sure enough, there he had been in all his internet glory. ‘Steve, 33, CEO. likes: art, conversation, whiskey. Digging around further on his profile you found that he owned several houses here and in Europe, he had a dog that was cuter than he was, and that he was ‘Seeking deeper connection’. All of these things piqued your interest.

‘Hey, Doll. Saw your profile and I had to ask, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Kidding, of course. But maybe you’d care to tell me your story over lunch? Your profile says we’re both in New York. - Steve’ Sent three weeks ago. Fuck.

You had texted him earlier to confirm, which is how you found yourself walking up the sidewalk towards the shop with a mind running rampant with nervous thoughts. What if he just wants to feel big about himself in comparison to me? What would I even really have to offer the relationship? A college dropout working two dead-end jobs with no social life. You needed to snap yourself out of it. You were just meeting for coffee doesn’t mean anything.

Pushing open the door you found Steve waving at you from a quiet corner. He was still in a suit, presumably coming from work himself. Even the buttons on his shirt looked expensive. You were wearing dirty jeans and a worn pair of work boots paired with a flannel. You couldn’t have looked more different if you tried.

“I waited for you to order,” He said. You smiled up at him, only now realizing how tall he was in comparison to you. He ushered you both towards the counter where you both placed your orders. You moved to take your wallet from your purse but he had already beat you there.

“Really? As if I’d let the lady pay, and on the first date no less?” He said playfully.

“Oh, so this is a date now, is it?” You kidded.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and gave you that boyish grin and a shrug. The pair of you made your way back to the table and waited for your drinks to be brought over.

“How was work?” You asked, “What exactly is it that your company does?”

“We offer security and surveillance software domestically as well as international. Stadiums, airports, other government buildings. Things of that nature. And work was fine, thank you for asking” Steve said with a genuine smile. “How was your day, doll?”

“Oh, my day was fine, more of the same but y’know,” You answered half-heartedly.

“You know, you never answered me, what’s a funny, pretty gal like you doing on a site like that?”

Embarrassment hit you again, this time maybe accompanied with a hint of shame. You were saved momentarily by your drinks being delivered. He seemed truly interested and since he was paying you supposed you owed him an answer.

“I was going to Columbia and I had a pretty good internship when my mom got diagnosed with cancer. She died three months later and since it was only always just the two of us I ended up footing the bill. I was on partial scholarship but between the hospital and the funeral I can’t really afford the rest of tuition on top of working for free so here I am” you explained, “Oh my god, I’m sorry I’m totally oversharing aren’t I? You probably don’t wanna hear about a bummer like this, sorry”

You tried to laugh to ease the tension you thought you’d created. Braving a look at Steve, he looked thoughtful and only a little bit like he pitied you. You could live with that.

“I’m really sorry about your mom, mine also got really sick before she died, I know it must’ve been hard. What were you in school for?”

___

You and Steve talked for hours, trading anecdotes of childhood and talking about each other’s interests. You had a similar sense in humour so you got on swimmingly. The evening seemed to be coming to a close as the night sky sent in through the window.

Being with Steve was probably the most relaxed you’d felt since before your mom was diagnosed. It became difficult to focus on anything but your financial situation and even though that’s what brought you here in the first place you had managed to forget all about it.

“So look, us getting together wasn’t exactly the most conventional on meet-cutes but to put it bluntly,” He said, “The CEO life makes it hard to meet real people and it gets kinda lonely, I mean, you saw my grocery basket” You both laughed at that. “You need money and I need company, I feel like we could help each other out. Whad’ya say? Think you could put up with me?”

You knew what this was but hearing it put so plainly was a little surprising. At least he was to the point.

“So if I said yes what does that mean, exactly?” you inquired.

“Well,” he started, “We take care of each other. Let me cover some of your bills at the very least, make it so you’d be comfortable quitting at least one of your jobs. And you’d keep me company, we go on dates, maybe you could come over, there’s the occasional work event or charity gala I’d need you on my arm for. Thoughts?”

God I can’t even imagine what it’s like to work only one job anymore. Maybe I could even save up and go back to school. He’s cute and he seems sensible, why not?

“Could we maybe take things slow? What you describe is something I’m down for but I don’t want to make myself completely dependent on you. But I’d love to be there for you, and I have to admit, the thought of only working one full time job is pretty crazy to me” You laughed.

Steve swallowed and placed one of his large, warm hands over yours.

“I can do things the old fashioned way, if that’s what you’d feel good with. I gotta say though, with looks like that it’s not gonna be easy” he jested.

You smiled shyly and looked away. You both stood to leave and he held the door open for you.

“I’ve already got your number from when you texted me earlier but I’ll talk to my assistant about my schedule and maybe I could take you out to dinner this weekend?”

“I um, I’d really like that. It’s a date” You stated.

“Oh, so you think this is a date now?” He jested.

You lightly punched him in the arm and he took the opportunity to pull you closer to him. You looked up to find his face inches from yours. You could smell his aftershave and his deep voice gave you goosebumps when he spoke next.

“I kinda want to kiss you goodnight, would that be okay?”

You could only nod as he shut his eyes and closed in. Your lips met in one perfect, chaste kiss. You sighed and leaned into his hand as it briefly cupped your face.

You broke apart and made promises to see each other soon. You felt like you could’ve floated home as you boarded the subway, caught up in the swarm of newly forming feelings.

_____

You sat in the break room when your phone buzzed to life, ‘Saturday at 7?’

You were about to type out a yes when you forgot you worked closing at the bar. Your thumbs moved quickly to tap out the reply ‘Working, sorry :/ the pitfalls of bartending. Sunday at 7?’

You were nervous telling him no and asking to change plans. You hated not being able to make things work but you only just met the man and the weekend tips were killer, it’s not like you could turn the shift down.

‘Ah yes, almost forgot. Sunday works too, I’ll text you the details. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up’

Oh, God. Steve can’t see my building! His cufflinks probably cost more than my rent!

‘I’ll just meet you there, don’t worry about it’

‘Not a chance, doll. Just tell me where and I’ll come get you’

You let out a worried sigh but knew you had to let it go. You sent him your address and went back to work.

____

Saturday was maybe the longest day in your entire week, in fact you loathed it. Mornings at the store followed by running immediately to the bar. Last call in New York was 4am so it’s a good thing you didn’t try to make brunch plans with Steve for Sunday. But ultimately both your shifts passed without major incident and now it was Sunday and you tried to ready yourself the best you could.

The place Steve mentioned was fancy, you knew that much from a quick search. Panicking instantly upon realizing you don’t really have any nice clothes you turned to your most fashionable roommate for help. She loaned you a cocktail dress that was revealing enough to draw interest without giving everything away. You just hoped Steve would like it.

‘Downstairs, doll. Silver BMW’ you exhaled. Hoo boy, here we go.

____

Steve handed his keys to the valet and rushed around to open your door for you. You held his hand and you clambered onto the sidewalk in your heels. His warm hand on the small of your back as he steered you towards the doors was a comforting weight.

Dinner has been lovely so far, he chose a place that wasn’t completely white-glove but was upscale enough to make you feel only a little underdressed.

You joked back and forth with him over the course of the meal, talked about your lives, and even found out you both have a guilty pleasure for cheesy rom-coms. It wasn’t until dessert and your third glass of wine came that you realized how much time had passed. You frowned slightly thinking of the early morning ahead of you followed by a long night at the bar.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Oh, nothing I just didn’t realize how late it was, I’ve got both jobs tomorrow it’ll just be a long day that’s all” you tried to wave it off but Steve frowned in response.

“Quit the bar” he stated.

“What?”

“Quit the bar. This is your card, I’ve already loaded $3000 on there. Put me in touch with your landlord and I’ll get you taken care of.” He slid the card across the table to you. Your name printed on the front. This got real very quickly.

“Steve, that’s.” You were in shock, a loss for words almost “that’s too much, I don’t know what to say.” You felt embarrassed taking the money. You knew that was the essence of your arrangement but actually taking his money had you feeling uneasy.

“Honey, this is what I’m here for. Let me take care of you. Give up your late nights. I wanna take you out on the weekends and you’ll need to be available for events. You can stay at the store if you want but quit the bar, you don’t need it.”

You took a deep sigh. He did say he wanted you to be comfortable quitting one of your jobs; it's just making the change that scares you. But something about Steve felt safe so you nodded and looked up to him.

“I’ll put in my two weeks”

“Good girl” he patted your knee and you involuntarily clenched your thighs. He smirked at that but let it go.

____

A few months had come and gone since that night and your time with Steve had been great. Only working the one job gave you so much more free time. You'd spent a good chunk of it just trying to form a normal sleep schedule but all the time you spent with Steve made it difficult. Not that you minded especially since your allowance was monthly but he’d showered you with gifts here and there.

They started off small, perfume, chocolates and flowers, or a simple pair of white gold hoops that reminded him of you. They gradually became pricier and more elaborate. You’d felt guilty accepting it all at first but he was insistent you deserve the best. He had even mentioned you moving out maybe finding a better place but you reminded him you needed to go slow.

He’d also been nothing short of a gentleman. Out in public at least, you’d learned the hard way that he was an absolute animal in bed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your hands off of him.

Something you had appreciated about Steve is that he never made you feel bad or less than for being broke. Never held his money over your head like leverage. You’d felt equal to him in all aspects, understanding you had just as much say as he did.

Still, there was a small nagging voice in the back of your head that reminded you Steve is not your boyfriend. This isn't a relationship and he's looking to get something out of just like you are. But if you were being honest you were catching feelings, it was hard not to when the man was giving you the fantasy. You decided to push that voice aside whenever it came up and let yourself be swept away. Maybe that would bite you in the ass but for now you were happy.

____

You were buzzed into Steve’s building and on the elevator ride up to his penthouse your phone buzzed. ‘I have to make a quick call- I’ve got a present waiting for you in the living room.’ You couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The doors opened and Steve was nowhere in sight but as you entered the living room a bag from Chanel and the Apple Store sat on the table. Oh god, what this time? I swear this man is too much.

You opened the smaller bag from Chanel first and found a beautiful black and white evening bag. It was sleek and simple, very much to your tastes. You were nervous to open the Apple bag, Steve always went overboard. Shakily removing the paper you pulled out the slim case in disbelief. A MacBook Air and a pair of AirPod Pros. The man well and truly spoiled you.

“You said you didn’t have a computer.” His voice came from behind you and startled you.

“Steve, this is too much. You’re too much.” You swung your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Nothin’s too much for you, doll.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Think you could take a couple days off of work? I just got off the phone and confirmed plans for my house in Nice.”

A trip? France?? Oh my god. How is this my life? You felt so overwhelmed that you grabbed Steve by the collar and brought his face down to meet you in a kiss. His tongue swiped your lips and you granted him entrance. Moaning into his mouth your hands traveled up into his hair, pulling softly and coaxing a groan out of him.

He guided you to sit on the couch and brought you down into his lap. You ground down onto him and felt his hard-on through his slacks. Your hand moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down your jaw towards your neck. You sighed softly when he found your sweet spot and started sucking.

He helped you take off his shirt while you got started on his belt and undid his pants. He lifted himself off the couch slightly to move them down to his knees, taking his briefs with them. His cock stood proud and an angry red, leaking at the tip.

“I wanna ride you, I can’t wait.” You pouted as you writhed against him in need.

Steve tutted at you “that’s no way to get what you want. Ask me nicely, baby. Beg to ride my cock,”

You ground down even harder and whined. “Please, sir, please let me ride your cock. I need to feel you, I can’t wait any longer please.”

“Good Girl” Steve's hands flipped up your skirt and found your panties, ripping them to shreds. They were La Perla and had cost a pretty penny but he didn’t care.

He lined himself up and brought you down harshly gripping your hips. You moaned loudly in surprise and satisfaction and wasted no time moving back and forth. Steve made you feel so close and connected to him whenever he fucked you but he still made you feel sordid and dirty. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling, you’d gladly chase it.

His eyes were hooded as watched you chase your own pleasure and giving him some in return. His hands kneaded your ass and smacked it just to get a gasp out of you. He grabbed the back of your head and brought you in for a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He’d nip at you and lick the pain away.

His hips met yours, finding your rhythm and speeding you both up when he gripped your hips.

“Can’t wait to have me, you had to fuck me on the couch huh?” Steve panted, “my dirty girl. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You put your forehead against his and went harder, pushing your clit to grind against the muscles of his abs.

“Only yours, sir.” Your orgasm was building. Steve was a pretty relaxed dom but you still needed permission.

“Sir, please let me cum I can’t wait any longer” you tried your best to slow your movements a bit.

“I think you can hold it baby, I wanna enjoy you a little longer”.

You could only whine in response and tried to slow your pace but his grip on your hips and his own movements pushed you further and further towards the edge. You tried to squirm out of his grasp but his hands only tightened. It felt like forever until Steve finally gave you permission.

“Go on baby, cum for me you earned it. Fuck your self on my cock and cum all over me”

Your movements were frantic, desperate to chase your orgasm when finally the perfect angle of his cock inside you and your clit against him set you free. You cried out above him and dug your nails in deep.

Steve held you firmly in place and started slamming into you from below, finally letting himself think about cumming. All you could do was hold on for mercy. Moments later he brought you down onto him one final slam as he came inside of you with a cry.

The only sound in the room was both of you trying to catch your breath. You sighed again and collapsed against him, nuzzling your face into his neck. He kissed the side of your face and let you make yourself at home while he caressed your back.

____

One shower and two more orgasms later you were both clean and made your way to the kitchen. Steve was gathering the ingredients for dinner when you hugged him from behind. Your head resting against his back. Steve twisted around and hugged you in full. You both stayed like that for a moment until you looked up at him.

You were so content. Moments like this where you were just domestic were some of the best between you. It wasn’t about money or material, it was just the two of you making dinner and enjoying each other, no barriers.

“Are you really going to take me to France?” Your voice came out muffled against his chest.

“Of course, doll. After dinner I want you to use your new laptop to buy some outfits for the trip. I left my card in your new purse.”

You lifted onto your tiptoes and kissed his nose.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I’m a planner” he retorted.

You didn’t know it yet but Steve was going to ask you to become official while you were there. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. In fact he’d never been so sure about something in his life.

#sugary4kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #sugar daddy!Steve rogers x reader #sugar daddy!steve rogers #sugar daddy au #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #fluff #smut

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soobmint · 3 years

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paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest.

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together.

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood.

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck.

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure.

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face.

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into.

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back.

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

Eternal Honeymoon Phase

For @itsthesinbin bc we were yelling about Morticia and Gomez and it’s spooky season so the Addams Family works perfectly. I HOPE U LIKE IT!!!!

Summary: You’re the newest addition to the Addams Family couple and you’re a little shier when it comes to their sexual appetites. You’re, well, a virgin, and when you finally ask to do more, Morticia has a better idea on how and when to take your virginity. Under the moon of Halloween, you shall be their sacrifice.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU LIKE! Minors and ageless blogs DNI or you will be blocked.

Fandom: Addams Family

Relationship: Morticia/Gomez/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader is gn and has a vulva, also reader wears a dress but it’s a costume for an angel costume!, implications of virginity kinks for Gomez and Morticia, uhhhh ya get eaten out and ur face fucked, overstimulation.

Words: 3.3k

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Morticia and Gomez had never been against adding a third to their little ‘eternal honey moon’ romance.

It’s just that no one had ever quite...fit into their world of them as a couple. They could come off a little strong, a little, ah, overbearing and well. Downright indulging in intimacy like rabbits tended to not be something people enjoyed, much to Gomez’s and Morticia’s surprise. Whatever did people mean that they lost a ‘spark’? They just didn’t see it.

They had met you at a family gathering. You’re a friend to one of the many, many, many family members there, exuding such a sweet and kind energy amongst all the dread and vulgarity. You’d seemed a little overwhelmed among everyone else yet still was just as polite with everyone. Your state of dress had been borrowed, Morticia had noticed, from cousin Lilith. The dress you had on spilled off your shoulders and you kept adjusting it with a little shy bow of your head and flashing a small smile.

Poor thing.

~Rest under the cut~

You’d caught Morticia’s eye first, who had hummed her interest as Gomez dipped her upon the dancefloor. Her head had been tipped back, showing the long, pale expanse of her neck that he ached to kiss as her hair spilled behind her. But, he’d seen her eyes lingering on you, trailing up and over to you from where she was looking and a grin spreading across his face. “Cara mia?” He questions in a teasing tone, kissing over her shoulder and up to her neck before pulling her to a standing position. “The one Lilith brought has your attention?”

“Yes...Don’t you think they look rather sweet standing there?” Morticia hums in reply once she returns to his embrace, swaying their bodies together and making sure to twist so they both could glance over at you. You’re talking to another cousin, tucking hair behind your ear and smiling kindly at something someone else says. A laugh graces your features, and even Gomez is humming now.

“Out of place,” He agrees, taking her hand and letting her spin from his grasp only to bring her back in time with the waltz, resting his head upon her breast with a sigh from his lips. “You have always been fond of the smaller ones, haven’t you, Tish?” A playful tease that earns him that charming little laugh from his wife’s lips.

That night they had both approached you, each offering a dance. Morticia quite liked the way your cheeks warmed a healthy shade of pink and you’d been honest about how your dress kept falling. To which Gomez, ever the gentleman had offered his assistance there. Brandishing a pin from seemingly nowhere and getting behind you to help pin the dress closed better. You’d smiled so bright then, thanking him with a hearty laugh. “I thought I was going to pop out of it any second now! Thank you- Would you both like to dance? I’m sure we can come up with something together!”

And how odd you had been. Breaking traditions of just two in an intimate dance. Showing them how Gomez could hold your waist from behind and you could hold Morticia’s from the front and all sway together. Over your shoulders you hadn’t seen the way the two looked at you. A bright spray of sunshine in their gloomy, dark worlds.

They quite liked their rainy days full of thunder and harsh winds, and at first, they thought that wouldn’t be your speed.

You’re invited privately to come into their home for dinner. You’re such a vibrant ray of sunshine in the otherwise dark room, lighting it up with the glow of your presence. There are quiet tests here and there as they get to know you. Such as inviting you on terribly stormy days only for you to excuse yourself with the children to go out and play. Only to come back in soaking wet and smiling just as bright as Gomez wraps you in a towel with a laugh as you exclaim how beautiful their home always is.

And how much you loved that it was always storming or cloudy.

Another time, Mama offers you something and exclaims it to be a sort of poison. Morticia had watched as you smiled, only questioning if it at least tasted good before you’d put it into your mouth. It had been laced, of course, Mama was always good at such things. Thankfully it only made you terribly drowsy. Such a sweet thing you had been with your head in Morticia’s lap that day. Gomez having helped you out of your shoes and let you lay your legs across his lap, stroking over your calf. You’d smiled so lazily up at them, your voice happy as could be. “It did taste good. She wasn’t lying on both accounts, huh?”

Nothing frightened you. Nothing turned you away. Somehow you took doom and gloom and made it into something bright and beautiful without modifying what it looked like. Even the children took kindly to your presence. The house just came to life with you inside it, everyone seemed more active. Even Gomez had taken to leaning over the railing with wistful sighs as he watched you, and Morticia knew it was up to her to do something about it.

You’d been asked to accompany them both to dinner privately. Neither Gomez or Morticia had been into the dating scene- as is they married practically a month after they had met and proposed the day of meeting. Yet, you seemed a little old fashioned to just be proposed to in such short notice. Much to Gomez’s dismay who already had a ring picked out for you and had pouted when Morticia gently closed the box to tell him as such.

You’d agreed joyously to dinner, and not long after had your relationship begun. Gomez had been the one to ask if you would be moving in with them, both of them delighting in the flush on your face and stuttering out about how you weren’t particularly attached to your apartment. He’d insisted with a big smile, and you’d agreed. The children were just as excited, even if Wednesday had showed her own happiness in her own little way of offering to hide weapons in your room ‘just in case’.

Prompting you to ask, of course, “Just in case? What, an attacker?”

“No,” Wednesday had spoken as if it was the most obvious answer on Earth. “Just in case I want to test your reflexes.”

Morticia and Gomez had the delight of watching you spare a grin to her, pretending to pout and telling her. “Aw, man, that’s too bad because maybe I waaaant tooo test,” Only to quickly scoop her up, resulting in their daughter letting out a shriek of terror and joy. “YOUR reflexes!”

The look they had shared was full of love, Gomez’s smile lighting up the room and Morticia having to resist the urge to steal your moment and whisk you away to the bedroom.

To present day, you three have been a couple for nearly half a year. Your first kisses with both of them had been shared, as well as some more intense heavy petting. Normally resulting in you in between them with scarlet red lipstick marks curling up your neck and bite marks on the other side. No one went further than just making you a blushing mess, always one of them murmuring to you that you just need say the word and they would ravish you.

A week before Halloween you shyly tell them that you’re ready to go further.

Morticia has to rest a hand on Gomez’s leg to keep him still when he sits up eagerly in their bed like a dog hearing the word ’treat’, but Morticia only cups your cheek fondly. Smoothing her thumb over the apple of your cheek and drawing you into an oh-so-soft kiss. “In a week, my dear, we shall have a ritual on Halloween night. You are a virgin, correct?”

Her bluntness had made your face burn, a huff going from your nose but you’d nodded. Gomez had hummed next to her, reaching over to replace her hand with his own rougher one and letting you lean into his palm with a pout. “Now, now, none of that, sweetheart! We’ll have plenty of time to plan for you and get questions out of the way. Like condoms! Shall we need condoms? Tish- we don’t have condoms, do we?”

“No, my love, we have never desired them before.” Morticia had responded with a sly smile on her lips, sharing a look with you. It seemed you would burn up before they even got to play, but you’d shaken your head, your voice seemingly caught in your throat.

“Good,” Morticia near about purred. “We shall inquire further- would you like to join us in bed tonight to make preparations?”

You had joined them that night. Talking of consent and what you thought you might want to try or be comfortable with. Ending up curled up in Gomez’s arms with your face buried in his warm, hairy chest and Morticia’s freezing cold arms around you from behind. Embraced and safe within their bodies.

When Halloween approaches, the children are so excited to drag you and Fester outside to come up with games. Pugsley had dressed as a pirate fit with an eyepatch and a sword in hand, whilst Wednesday had merely taken dressing brightly for once. When questioned, she’d merely said in a stoic tone of voice, “A majority of the animal kingdom has brightly colored flesh in order to identify who is poisonous.” You’d thought it was rather clever.

Yourself, you had dressed as a cliché angel. With a white dress that reached the floor with a slit up each leg for more freedom. The top was a plunge neck with criss crossing strings over your chest, and flaring sleeves down to your fingertips. You’d even gotten a little halo headband and little wings to match. Though your halo was quickly given to Fester who had quite the fascination with it, smiling as you told him you two matched.

Perhaps you had dressed as an angel as a tease. Morticia had admitted that she was quite attracted to the fact that you hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, spoken exactly like that. And Gomez had agreed, not as bluntly but definitely implying that it was very much a ‘thing’ for them both. And maybe you were trying to get a little payback for in the middle of the week. When you had been so comfortable resting with them only to find yourself teased with hot and heavy kisses from Gomez and little nips on your neck from Morticia as they both told you how good of a sacrifice you were going to make on Halloween night.

When you’d arrived, you’d certainly felt their hungry stares. You’d call this righteous payback, thank you very much.

The entire day goes rather well, you’d thought. The children had a day full of fun and were being put to bed by Lurch, slung over both his shoulders as they both wave to you before vanishing around the corner of upstairs. Immediately you feel arms wrap around your waist from behind, a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder and Gomez’s voice sighing out. “As much as I appreciate the time you spend with the children, I am glad it is our turn now.”

“And what if I’m too tired, hm?” You tease out, only to fall into giggles from your lips when his arms squeeze tighter around your waist and a low growl comes from his throat. You hear the click of heels approaching before Morticia is in front of you, her long fingers tipping your chin up with two fingers. You can practically hear both yours and Gomez’s breaths leave your body at her beauty. She always looked so regal, especially tonight in a more spider web designed dress that had a slit up the leg.

“If you are too tired, we shall simply put off until next Halloween. I am patient.” She speaks coolly, a quirk to a corner of her mouth when you whine aloud and lean back into Gomez’s arms who makes the same sound as you. Clearly the most patient one in the room was Morticia, but even then, her eyes are flicking down the front of your low plunge dress and you have a feeling that wouldn’t last long.

After a few teasing ‘double checks’ from the both of them, you are brought to a room that you don’t recognize. It’s wide open with windows covering one side, and in the center of the room is soft looking cushions and blankets. In a star formation on either side of the center where the comfortable spot looked were lit up candles, all black with roaring red flames. You should have realized Morticia wasn’t joking when she said sacrifice, but in your heart, you knew nothing bad was going to happen. Nothing you didn’t want would happen.

Gomez is the one who strips you from behind, warm kisses placed on everywhere he exposes behind you. Trailing kisses down your back until he can’t reach whilst standing anymore and letting your dress pool to the floor. Morticia watches, patient as ever with her hands folded at her waist, though her head does tilt, this hungry gaze in her eyes as they fall to your hips. You weren’t wearing underwear, you thought it would give your dress undesirable lines. You flush when you hear the appreciative sound behind you, a firm hand tracing down your side and squeezing your ass.

“You were just as eager to get here as we were all day.” Gomez growls in your ear, both his hands grabbing your hips now and yanking you back against him. You whimper faintly, tipping your head to the side when guided to feel the searing hot kisses up your neck. You’re already dizzy with arousal, faintly hearing Morticia say something only to be released and guided to the cushions instead by her hands.

You’re lain on your back, watching Gomez strip from his suit jacket and loosening his tie to work on the buttons. Morticia slips out of her dress, revealing a black lacy get up with matching bra and panties, a garter belt holding spider web thigh highs on her long legs. You swallow thickly when she crawls up to you, nudging your legs apart that tremble as they fall open. Cold kisses leave scarlet prints up your inner thigh beginning at your knee, her lips coming up and over your hip to your lower abdomen and kissing her way back down, down, down.

Her fingers part your lower lips and you throw your head back in embarrassment when she smiles up at you under her lashes. “Already so wet, little one? How sweet.” You can’t even help the way your hips jump when her cold mouth presses an open-mouthed kiss over the hood of your clit, her tongue pressing downwards against you before sealing her lips lightly over you.

A low whine leaves your throat, your fingers quickly twisting into the sheets beneath you as your hips start to hump against her mouth without thinking. You feel a pressure by your head before your eyes flutter open halfway, looking up at Gomez who pushes your hair out of your face adoringly. “Open your mouth, sweetheart, stick out your tongue for me.” Murmured gently from his lips, and you do as told, a shudder racing through your body when Morticia’s tongue dips lower.

His cock is in his hand, thick enough to the point not even his fingers touch when holding it. It looked shorter, maybe at about five inches with the foreskin pulled back with a tug of his hand across his cock. Your mouth waters at the sight of the flushed head, fluttering your eyes closed when he glides the head of it across your tongue. “Ah, there you go, darling, just get used to the taste for now.” Spoken lowly in his throat, as if he’s holding back from just grabbing you and slipping into your throat.

You get to experiment with little laps of your tongue after a moment, keeping your lips parted to allow him to slide the shaft over your lips so you could get used to the weight. A moan spills from you when you feel Morticia’s tongue back on your clit, applying pleasant pressure and moaning against you in turn. You whimper sharply, your hand reaching down to try and find her. She takes the hint, her fingers lacing with yours at your hip to hold your hand there.

It isn’t long before Gomez is pressing the head at your lips, talking you through it ever so softly. “Breathe through your nose, relax your jaw- there you go, that’s my sweet pet.” Crooning as he presses carefully into your mouth. It stretches your jaw, your head tipped backwards and your breath stuttered. He only dips halfway, his hand coming down to rest on your jaw, helping you keep tilted and supported.

By the time he finally slips all the way into your mouth, his balls against your nose and your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head, you’re cumming. You squeeze tight to Morticia’s hand, automatically swallowing around the weight in your mouth with moans blossoming from your chest. Your body trembles, hips stuttering up against her mouth where she licks you through each wave and even afterwards. Until your tremors are too much and you’re making soft whimpers around Gomez’s cock and trying to shake your head, but his hand holds you still.

“Mmh. That was one. Just four more.” Morticia practically croons, pressing a kiss to your engorged clit that’s surely circled by a ring of lipstick right now. Your hips jerk upwards, moving your free hand up to Gomez’s thigh and clinging to him when his hips start to move lightly.

Four?! Four more?! You try to sob out, but only the tail end of it gets out when Gomez pulls his hips back until the head rests heavy on your lips. You try to speak, but Morticia’s nails tracing up your thighs as she sits up catches your attention more. “My love, the toys?”

“Behind you in the bag, dearest.” He hums out fondly, the hand gripping your jaw smoothing his thumb over your wet lips until your lips part again, taking his cock once more with a low growl in his voice. “I think you were made to be a toy for us, little one. How well you take me.”

You can’t help your own whimper when he slides all the way back into your mouth. Your eyes fluttering just as you feel Morticia return with the light pressure between your legs. She lifts one of your thighs, angling you better for the rounded head of a smaller toy that you assume is a dildo, already wet with lubrication. “I would ask Gomez to prepare you as my nails are too long,” Morticia explains, her hand lying flat on the mound of your sex, her thumb circling your clit to not overstimulate you just yet. “But, it seems he is preoccupied at the moment. I cannot say I am not jealous.”

“In d-due time, my dear,” He huffs out, his hips speeding up slightly when you prove you can take the smaller thrusts. Your toes curl, feeling the toy slowly slide into you with a delicious, slight stretch to it. It isn’t long before Morticia’s moving it in sync with Gomez’s hips, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and feeling just like the toy Gomez claimed you were.

You know by the end of the night you’ll end up well taken care of and tired out. But for now, you’re happy to be caught in between them, drooling around Gomez’s cock and feeling Morticia’s cold tongue lapping at your slick.

You think Heaven is a lot darker and gloomier than thought to be.

#Addams Family #Morticia x Gomez x Reader #Morticia Addams #Gomez Addams #nsft #lemon #princess writing

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lordabovehelpme · 3 years

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Big Bear- Clyde Logan x Reader

Request: So we all know how the best nickname for Clyde is Bear. But how about the first time reader called him that? It doesn’t have to be a whole fic, it can totally be a headcanon or just a thought! Love you! - anon

A/n: Ahhh I love this!!! And I love you for sending this in!! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Everything he does reminds you of a bear, but you’ve never told him. What happens when the little nickname slips one night?

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As soon as the comparison crosses your mind, it never leaves. It just makes so much sense. The way he get’s all huffy and rumbly in the mornings. Those pillowy lips of his pushed out into a pout and his eyes half closed yet sparkling when they see you. His grumbles will thunder down the halls as he tries to find you. Every morning it makes you think of a bear waking from hibernation a little too early. And every morning you’ll cup his cheek and stand on your tiptoes to press a kiss to that pout. And his pout will slowly turn into a small smile.

It’s the way his giant hand wraps around your own, in fact your whole hand can fit in his palm. When he offers his hand out to you, you have to bite back your giggles at how he seems so similar to a bear offering his paw. And it’s not only his hands, it’s also his feet. Those large feet carrying him all around the world and barely fitting into his shoes. They also remind you of paws.

Then it’s the way he hugs you. Those big arms wrapping around your form and pulling you into a strong chest. If he’s behind you, he will rest his chin on the top of your head. Most often he’ll let an overdue sigh escape and relax around you, content with your touch. And if you could see his face, you would see closed eyes and a lazy smile. But if he’s facing you, then a kiss is pressed to your forehead before you are fully pulled in. Then he’ll tug you impossibly close to him and nearly tuck you away into his embrace. Your arms wrap around his waist and slide under his shirt, your nails lightly scratching at his back. Shivers will run up and down his spine and you’ll be pulled even closer, a purr vibrating from beneath his chest.

It’s also the way he eats. It’s like you never feed the man or like he’s never eaten before. He will shove as much as food as he can into his mouth and eat it so quickly. It’s a miracle he hasn’t choked and died yet. But you don’t mind it as much when he’ll give you a thumbs up, his eyes closed from happiness, and a smile with his cheeks puffed out with your cooking concoctions.

But all that good hearty food leads him to look like a bear. His shoulders are wide and nearly take up an entire doorway, muscle cushioning the bone and making a perfect spot for your head to lean on. His chest is broad and strong, pecs pulled taut and slightly protruding from his favorite (and your favorite) shirts. But when he takes those long deep breaths, he swells with air and grows before your eyes, you can’t deny the heat that rises to your cheeks.

However, your most favorite part (if you can even choose) is his tummy. It’s so soft that you literally cannot wait to run your hands over it every night. He’s fed well and you love that it shows. He used to hate it when you first started dating. You would wake up to find him gone, putting himself through various workouts, trying to burn it off. But over years of you telling him how much you love it and how it’s nothing to be ashamed of, he’s grown to like it. It tells you that he’s healthy and loved. And you both know he can’t refuse your baking, especially when you make those gooey apple pies.

The funniest comparison you’ve found though, is the way he sits. The way his entire body will fill any chair and his shoulders kind of slump. But it’s most apparent when he sits backwards on chairs, large thighs surrounding the back and his arms resting on his knees. One time when the two of you were watching a National Geographic Documentary on bears, they showed a scene of a bear sitting in a field. You happened to have looked over at Clyde during that scene, and had to bite your lips to stop from laughing. He was sitting in the exact same position. Your head went back and forth from the TV screen to your man bear on the couch, giggles hidden behind your hands. You could have put their pictures next to one another and said “Spot the difference.” Although, that wouldn’t have really worked because there was no difference.

But there’s something about how warm and cozy he is that really puts the icing on the cake. Countless nights you have found him on the couch, book in his large paw and cooling mug of tea on the small coffee table. And countless times he’s just lifted his arms as you’ve crawled onto his lap, he’ll set his book down on the armrest and drape a blanket around you, tucking in all the corners. Then, without a word, he’ll go back to his book and his arms will hold you close. Sometimes, if you ask, he’ll read aloud to you, deep voice grumbling out poetry and old english in his little drawl. You can feel it rumbling around in his chest and it draws your eyelids to shut. The scent of woods and faint cigarettes mixed with the warmth of his embrace makes you fall asleep in seconds. You’ll nuzzle further into his hold and his shortened forearm will trail up and down your back, caressing you as you drift off.

In your mind, clyde is a bear and there is no other option.

However, you haven’t told him of this comparison yet. Pet names aren’t uncommon between the two of you, he’s always calling you one, “Sweetpea, suga’ plum, sweet’eart, and his favorite, darlin’.” But something about comparing him to a wild animal is keeping you from telling him. Maybe it's the fear of him not liking it, maybe it’s just embarrassment, whatever it is, you don’t know.

The first time it slipped was a late night at the bar. Clyde made you fancy cocktails that were way too good and he looked even better. Your thoughts started to come out unfiltered and you could tell he was getting a kick out of it.

“Darlin’ I think that’s enough fer ya.” He said with a chuckle making his voice even deeper.

You let your lips push into a pout as you stared up at him with your best version of puppy dog eyes. “But bear, I’m already going home with you, one more won’t hurt.”

He froze, eyes widening but after a second he shook his head and let a small smile take over his face. “No more fer ya darlin’. I’m sorry, but you’ll thank me in the mornin’.”

The two of you never spoke about it.

Well, you didn't speak about it for three days.

He was curled around you that morning, dead to the world as his snores thundered through the house. (Even his snores sound like a bear’s!) You wiggled out of his hold and padded into the kitchen, starting to prepare all the ingredients for omelettes. Mindlessly you hummed a little tune and started to chop some bell peppers.

Suddenly an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you away from the counter, lifting you into the air. You scream and start to kick your legs before loud chuckles come from behind you. Realizing who it is you relax in his hold and frown.

“Clyde, I had a knife.”

“Darlin’ if that's how you fight against a bear, I’ll never be able to take ya campin.”

The amusement is loud and clear in his voice. You know you’ve been caught.

“What do you mean bear? I don’t see any bears.” When worse comes to worst, what do you do?

Play dumb.

It’s also not your fault he sprung this upon you in the early morning. Your brain’s not even awake yet.

He sets you down and you turn around in his hold, eyes wide with faux innocence. His own eyes slightly narrow, but a small smile stays on his lips.

“Hmm.” He stares down at you, silently testing your acting abilities. “Some little birdie told me that ya think I’m a bear.”

“Well obviously the birds around here are terrible at gossip!” You cross your arms and turn back to your peppers.

He lets out a loud hearty laugh. Then he wraps his arms around your waist and sets his chin on top of your head, watching as you try to not fumble and fluster under his gaze.

“I just wanna know why ya said it? And why you’re now denyin’ it.”

You sigh and set the knife down on the counter, looking up and out the small window above the counter. “Promise me you won’t laugh at me?”

“I promise.”

Everything in you screams at you to not tell him. But he said he promised and you know that eventually it would come up again, so why not tell him now?

“Ikindathinkyouactandlooklikeabearsoinmyheadit’sbecomeanicknameforyou.”

He takes a second to think over what you said so quickly. You can practically hear the cogs turning in his head. But with each second that passes, the anxiety bubbles up further in your stomach.

“I like it.”

That is the last thing you expected him to say. “You like it?”

He turns you around so he can look at you. “Yeah, it makes me feel like I can protect ya better. Like a bear.”

Your cheeks hurt from your smile. “Really?”

He swoops down and presses his lips to your own. “Yeah.” His own lips are pulled into a smile. “I’ve got ya darlin’ and now you’ve got yer bear.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press another kiss to his lips. “My big bear.”

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So yeah, I totally was swooning the entire time I was writing this! I hope you enjoyed!

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! It means the world to me and I also love hearing what you all have to say!

Love forever, Lordy :)

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#clyde logan #clyde logan x you #clyde logan x reader #clyde x reader #adam driver #adam driver x reader #logan lucky

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bellarkeselection · 2 years

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Dutton's Holiday

Request from @jayduttonx on Wattpad. Everyone is home on the ranch to celebrate the holidays where Kayce pops the question

Setting up the dinner table in the livingroom so a fight doesn't happen like all the other times. I smile hearing the front door open and in comes Beth and Rip with Carter. John stands in front of the fireplace smiling. Footsteps race down the stairs quickly for me to get a tight hug from Tate. More footsteps came down the stairs for me to see my boyfriend of two years, Kayce Dutton. He puts his black cowboy hat on his head lovingly smiling my way. This will be the first family Christmas for his family in years.

Kayce and I started dating after Monica didn't feel safe living on the ranch. I was hired as a farm hand alongside Teeter. I'd immediately bonded with his son Tate who he gets to see every other weekend when his mom is busy. Rip sits his hat on the back of the chair and Kayce does the same once we all sat down. John loved having his grandson and possibly grandson in his life. After the attack on the family he needed some joy in his household. The boys gave him what he was missing.

"The tree looks great Y/n." Rip spoke pointing to the decorated tree in the corner by the bright fireplace. I smile brightly loving when I got to decorate the house for Christmas when I was a child. "Thank you. Beth showed me where an old box of stuff was." Beth shrugs her shoulders taking another bite of food. "She seemed just as excited as I do when I fight with people." John shakes his head at his daughter's statement before eyeing my boyfriend. "Y/n, I love you." Kayce spoke smiling at me as I stare into his brown eyes. He gets up from his chair dropping down on a knee.

I gasped watching him reveal a small black box opening it to show a small ring. His brown eyes pouring into mine as he reveals. "Y/n, you gave me love when I thought I'd lost the only woman I'd ever love. But you've have a fun spirit, a passion for the holidays and always make sure Tate has fun. I love you, Y/n L/n. And I can't think of a better night than on Christmas eve to ask, will you marry me?" He has some tears in his eyes with the whole family watching us.

"Yes. Yes, Kayce of course!" I giggled in happy tears allowing him to slip the ring on my left hand. He gets to his feet slowly kissing me and I kiss back excitedly. "Daddy, it's snowing. It's snowing!" Tate rushed to the window causing us to break away seeing small white flakes of snow. Carter gets his coat rushing outside with him. Rip and Beth chase after them. John grabbed his jacket and we followed after Kayce and I. The small droplets of Snow covered the whole ranch as we stand on the porch. Kayce puts his hat on my head smiling down at me.

Carter and Tate bawl up some snow throwing one at each other. John joined in quickly throwing one at me I grin rushing down the stairs. Throwing one at each of the three still standing on the porch finally getting them in the fun. "You're starting to look like Santa, Kayce." I giggled as his brown hair started turning white from the Snow. He smirks tugging me to his chest by the belt loop of my pants. "Well then you'd be Mrs. Claus." Beth called out pointing up at the night sky seeing a shooting star. "Shooting star guys!" John tips his hat up grinning. "I bet it's your mom saying hi and congratulations."

"Sir, could we go inside its getting too cold out here." Rip asked pulling his jacket closer around himself. John headed back inside suggesting hot chocolate for all of us. As I'm about to step inside I feel Kayce grab my arm making me stop, raising a brow to him curiously. "What is it, Kayce?" He eyes me then something hanging above my head so I tilt it up seeing mistletoe. "Got ya cowboy. Merry Christmas Kayce." I wrap my arms around his neck kissing him. He rests his hands on my waist leaning down capturing my lips with his smiling. "Merry Christmas, Y/n Dutton."

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#kayce dutton #kayce dutton x reader #luke grimes #john dutton #rip wheeler #beth dutton #carter yellowstone #tate dutton #yellowstone #christmas requests #wattpad request #ask box is open for anything

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n00dl3gal · 3 years

Text

Like Old Times (Father-Son Bonding AU)

A direct sequel to the “Expiration Date” fic, which I’ll link in a reblog. I’ve also posted all my fics in this AU to AO3!! Thanks again to @thetriggeredhappy for their help and just generally being a cool dude, and the Scoutsune Discord server for indulging my brainrot

No warnings beyond family schmoop!

Less than an hour after the bread monster incident, the Administrator called for a ceasefire. “Only while your base is repaired,” she said over the TV screen. “BLU is quite disappointed in this negligence- as am I. Regardless, you may use these three days as you see fit. Go home, stay here- whatever you do, no more bread monsters.” The screen turned off with a click.

Scout exhaled through his nose. He was thankful there was no mention of him or Miss Pauling’s woodchipper.

Spy decloaked behind him. “Less time than I wanted, but c’est la vie.” Scout looked at him over his shoulder. “I’m meeting with an old contact during our break,” Spy said in Italian. “Would you like to come along? It’ll be like old times.”

Scout’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. At least this way, he’d get out of helping Engie and Heavy with repairs. And possibly meeting Miss Pauling’s woodchipper.

“Excellent. Our flight is at 7 AM tomorrow.”

“We’re flying commercial?” Scout asked, also in (more hesitant) Italian.

“Our destination is continental. We’ll leave the base by 5:30.” Scout groaned as Spy started to leave. But- wait, he hadn’t-

“Oi, where are we going, anyway?” he called back in English.

Spy paused to look at him and smile. “Boston.”

“Why do we always get the ass-crack-of-dawn flights?” Jeremy asked groggily, reclining his seat.

“They are the ones with first-class seats available,” Raphael replied. He took a sip from his mimosa.

“Yeah, cuz God forbid you fly coach for once.” Jeremy shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Hey. Have I ever been to Boston before?”

Raphael didn’t answer immediately. His lip sucked in, as if in thought. “Yes. When you were very, very young. You wouldn’t remember.”

Jeremy nodded. He wanted to ask more, there was something Raphael wasn’t saying but… well, he was never a morning person. He fell asleep before the plane even took off.

. . .

It was mid-afternoon by the time they landed in Boston. Jeremy was never fond of long flights; having his legs cramped like that for extended periods of time was murder. He was half tempted to take a jog around Logan International. Raphael, on the other hand, was ushering them both to the car rental. “Can’t even get a stretch in, huh?”

“Unfortunately, we are expected by 4, and I would hate to keep my contact waiting,” Raphael explained in French, accepting the keys from the girl at the counter. “She’s not a very patient woman, in some regards.”

Jeremy huffed but didn’t argue. He just followed his father to the rental, tossing his suitcase in the backseat. “Y’know, the girl at the counter-”

“We will not have time for you to go out on a date, Jeremy.”

“No! No, it was- her accent’s kinda like mine, it’s weird,” Jeremy said. Raphael started the car. “Cuz I’ve only been here as a baby, and I got mine from TV and shit. It’s just… really strange, is all.”

Raphael made a quiet noise of agreement. “Some of the shows you watched as a child were filmed here. It’s not as complex as you think it is.”

“Yeah, probably not…”

The pair lapsed into silence as Raphael drove. Storefronts and high rises morphed into houses. It had been a while since they were in a residential area. RED, for understandable reasons, kept away from civilians.

Raphael took the roads with practiced experience. Sure, it had been implied he knew the area. If he had a contact here- one with a house, presumably- he must’ve spent time here. But this- this was far too familiar. A bit suspicious, actually.

Eventually, Raphael slowed in front of a more rundown Brownstone. Still quite nice, just needed a little work. It felt… welcoming, in a way Jeremy couldn’t name.

“Lotta cars,” he observed as Raphael parallel parked. “Must be a party going on somewhere.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” Raphael said, turning the car off. “Would you mind ringing the doorbell for me? I need to grab something from the trunk. Ask for Sara Jane.”

OK, now Jeremy knew something was up. He was never the one to make the first contact, that was always Dad’s job. Jeremy might be a full-grown adult, but there were some things that didn’t change. This was one of them.

Still, he nodded. He climbed up the front steps and ringed the doorbell. He heard- multiple voices from inside, predominantly male, but they quickly silenced themselves. A TV, perhaps? They really ought to get that flower box on the second story window fixed-

The woman who opened the door was a bit shorter than him, though not by much. She was wearing a simple dress, hoop earrings, and flats. Her hair was dark, curved to her chin. But her nose and earlobes felt… achingly familiar. Like Jeremy saw them all the time.

“Um, hi, I’m looking for Sara Jane? My name’s-” The rest of his speech was knocked out of him as the woman launched herself at him. Jeremy braced for an attack, but quickly realized she was… hugging him.

She was hugging him, sobbing, and choked out the word “Jeremy.”

Wait. He knew that voice. He had only heard it a few times in his life, few enough he could count them on one hand, but he knew it. “M-Ma?” he whispered.

The woman- Sara Jane- Ma looked up at him, still crying. Her hands found his face as she observed him. “Y-yeah, sweetie, it’s me, it’s-it’s your ma,” she said.

“Ma!” he laughed, tears of his own dancing down his cheeks. He hugged her back, practically lifting her off her feet. “Oh my God, Ma! I-I never thought I’d-”

“Oh Jeremy, sweetie, look how tall you’ve gotten! Last I saw you, you fit in my arms! My baby, my handsome baby,” she spoke over him. She rubbed circles into his back as they embraced. It felt so, so right.

Jeremy laughed even harder. “Are you kiddin’? I got it from you, you’re beautiful, Ma!” He stared at her, trying to commit every mole and wrinkle and perfect flaw to memory. “I can’t believe- oh my God, I’m actually meeting you!”

“It was long overdue,” another voice said, as Raphael joined them on the front stoop. “I had put it off for safety reasons, but considering our current, ah, situation… I felt it was worth the risk.”

Sara Jane squealed, pulling Raphael into the hug as well. “You’ve been taking good care of my boy, you promise me, Raphael?”

“Don’t worry Ma, he’s the best dad I could ask for, considering,” Jeremy teased.

“Oh, don’t I know it. Called me up last night and told me to get the whole motley crew together. Even managed to get Melvin to bring his twin daughters, bless his wife’s heart,” she explained.

Jeremy blinked. “Uh- Melvin? Daughters?”

Sara Jane laughed. It sounded so much like Jeremy’s it practically hurt. This was his mother. Lord, he’s finally seeing her. “Melvin’s your older brother, sweetie. Eh, sixth oldest. Bobby’s the oldest.”

“I have a brother?”

“Oh honey, you’re the youngest of eight,” Sara Jane said plainly.

“...fuck,” Jeremy whispered.

. . .

He didn’t just have seven brothers. He had seven brothers, four of which brought their wives, one who brought his boyfriend, and three who brought their kids. And the kids totaled to an additional six, counting the babies.

It was… an admittedly tight squeeze in the living room.

Sara Jane introduced Jeremy. Jeremy had been expecting to be treated like a stranger. He had vanished when he was a baby, after all, and his younger-older brothers probably wouldn’t remember him at all.

And yet, it was like he knew them all his life.

They teased him and punched him playfully and acted so friendly, so familial it nearly made Jeremy break down. He was still crying from meeting Ma, but being dogpiled with so much affection was suffocating. In a good way. He had seen on sitcoms the intrinsic bond between family, and while he felt it with Dad, they also risked their lives nearly daily. But it was real, it was here, and it was wrapping him in a warm blanket.

Despite the chaos and the sheer number of people, Jeremy didn’t feel overwhelmed. He laughed and played along with their jokes, cracking some back when he could get a word in. Scott ragged on his dog tags, he countered by pointing out the hole in his pants. Michael told him he was still a shortass, he replied with “it takes one to know one.” Elliot and Ricky were the closest to actually getting hurt, and that was only because Jeremy elbowed them both so hard they nearly fell over.

For the first time in 25 years, Jeremy understood what “home” meant.

The kids were especially curious, eager to meet their uncle and step-grandfather. Within seconds, young Rebecca- only four years old- was challenging Jeremy to a race around the house. “I’m the fastest kid in the world,” she bragged, puffing out her chest.

“Oh yeah?” Jeremy asked. “That a fact?”

“You wanna test me? I beat Johnny Three-Legs at running, and he’s got three legs!” Jeremy laughed and stood from the couch, letting her lead him outside. “On the count of three, OK?”

“You’re on, pipsqueak,” Jeremy teased.

“Onetwothree GO!” Rebecca yelled, taking off in a sprint. Jeremy knew that, by all accounts, he should beat her. His legs were longer, she didn’t have the proper running stance, and it was his job to be fast. That’s what he got paid to do. But some small voice was telling him to let her win, so he did. “Ha! I told ya!”

“Ya sure did,” he replied, mock panting. “Look at you, a freaking blur on the green. You’re goin’ to the Olympics, kid.”

Rebecca beamed and hugged his leg. “Promise, Uncle Jeremy?” He nodded because, after that display, there was no way he could speak without squeaking like a chew toy.

Rebecca skipped back inside, past Raphael, who was watching on the stoop. “You’re a natural with children,” he observed. “I used to do the same thing when you were that age.”

“Wait- wait, really? You sure fooled me,” Jeremy said.

Raphael rolled his eyes. “What’s my job again, mon lapin?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jeremy leaned against the railing, watching Raphael’s cigarette smoke in the wind. “Hey. Uh… thanks for arranging all of this. You really didn’t need to.”

“But I did. I meant it when I said this was overdue. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to the rest of the family for a while, but have been unable. Then that whole ordeal with the supposed tumors, and-” Raphael exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you if you died without knowing them. I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

Jeremy punched his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, pops. It all worked out, we’re still kicking, and that roast chicken Ma’s making smells incredible. Everything’s perfect.”

Raphael finished his cigarette and smiled. “Oui. It is.”

. . .

While Sara Jane had been able to get the rest of the family here, it was a school night. Kids needed to be tucked in by 9:30, so most of Jeremy’s brothers were gone by 8. Elliot was staying overnight, as was his boyfriend. Otherwise, the house quickly went from bustling to barren.

It gave Jeremy a chance to explore his would-be childhood home.

He made his way upstairs, pushing open one of the doors. It led- to little surprise- to a bedroom. It was set up like a nursery, with a crib in one corner and a toddler bed in the other. Toys were scattered about across the floor.

He heard Sara Jane sigh behind him. “This was your room, you know.” Jeremy turned to look at her as she flipped the light switch. “That crib… I had put you to bed the night your father planned to fake his death. I was in on the whole plan, naturally. He wanted to hold you one last time, so I said OK. When I woke up the next morning… you were both gone.” She exhaled slowly, grabbing onto his shoulder. “I wrote both of you off as dead, but I knew what had happened. Honestly, should’ve figured it out before then. You hadn’t woken me up crying,” she joked. Her eyes were watering.

Jeremy hugged her, pulling her close. “You never took the crib down?”

“By the time I was ready, Bobby’s wife was pregnant, so I kept it up for my grandbabies. I knew- I knew you were out there, sweetie. Both of you.” She kissed his cheek, squeezing him.

“I-I never got to be a normal kid, really,” he confessed. “I mean, Dad did his best, gave me comic books and board games and stuff, but-but I never went to school or made friends or anything like that. I-I didn’t even know I had a family. It took me forever to even realize I had a Ma. An-and everything I did-” The tears were flowing again, more freely than earlier. “Ya missed me losing my first tooth, and potty trainin’, and all that stuff parents should know about. I-I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Sara Jane wiped his cheek dry. “Don’t apologize for what your father did, Jeremy. And definitely don’t apologize for me not potty training another kid. Besides… hold on, I’ll be right back.” She made her way down the hallway. Jeremy didn’t follow, instead deciding to examine the crib. This was where he grew up. It was a simple crib, obviously well-used. Not worn-down, mind, just… used. It had a history. A history that Jeremy wanted to decode, but unlike his dad’s ciphers, he didn’t have the key.

“Took me a second to find it,” Sara Jane said. She handed him what appeared to be a scrapbook. “Raphael- he wrote when he can. Taught me some basic codes, would send out letters whenever you’d leave a town. Never left a return address, but…” Jeremy flipped through the pages, moving to sit on the small bed. The letters were all coded but appeared to be about how much Raphael missed Sara Jane. Updates on Jeremy’s growth. Letters from a father to his lover and son’s mother.

One page jumped out to him, though. “I remember this,” he said, running his fingers against the paper. It was a simple drawing of a young boy, holding a catcher’s mitt, and a taller man next to him. “I drew this after Dad took me to my first baseball game, for my eighth birthday. I thought I lost the drawing after we skipped town, but- he sent them to you?”

Sara Jane nodded. “And I kept them all. Oh, honey, the day I first heard your voice on the phone- Mikey can tell you, I damn near fell over. You sounded so happy, and even if I couldn’t see you, that’s all a mother wants.” Jeremy leaned against her and she shut the book. “That’s all a mother wants, sweetie. To see her kids be safe and happy.”

“I am, Ma,” he assured her. “I promise.”

They sat like that for a while, with Sara Jane commenting on various letters and drawings in the scrapbook. Apparently, Raphael sent her money when he could- more frequently now that Mann Co. paid so well. She also had a rough idea of their current occupations. “I figure, if you and your father are working for the same company- with his skills, there’s gotta be a whole lot of nonsense going on out in that desert.” Jeremy laughed at that because she wasn’t wrong. “But I also figure since he raised you right, he’ll keep the both of you safe.”

“I keep him safe too, don’t worry,” Jeremy added. “Uh- listen, it’s touching and all you kept the crib, but I don’t have to sleep in it, right?”

They both had a good chuckle over that. Their laughs were in perfect harmony.

. . .

The next two days were a mix of learning the family history and exploring Boston. It was the offseason, so there weren’t any games going on at Fenway, but Jeremy still got a picture in front of the park. Sara Jane took the pair to a restaurant that served “the best damn clam chowder in the contiguous United States.” Which, incidentally, led them to discover Jeremy was allergic to clams. Thankfully they didn’t have to go to the hospital- he just sort of immediately got sick before it passed- but it did suck.

It was damn good chowder, though.

They went down to the harbor where the Boston Tea Party happened. It was crowded with people, resulting in them not staying long. Jeremy was a bit better with crowds than Raphael, but neither was great with them. Came with the job. Getting overpriced memorabilia from a nearby gift shop, though, went over much more smoothly.

When not out on the town, Sara Jane dug out more scrapbooks and photo albums, catching Raphael up on what his stepsons had been up to. She showed Jeremy pictures from Ricky’s first school play to Scott opening up his butcher shop. Graduation pictures, wedding pictures, baby pictures- it was all there, and Jeremy devoured it. He wanted to know these people. He wanted to know his family. And he did. He learned about Michael’s stint in the Navy, Melvin meeting his wife, how Bobby’s son could dribble a basketball for twenty minutes straight. He learned about how his parents met. How Raphael loved each of Sara Jane’s children, even if they weren’t biologically his. How Jeremy wasn’t planned- few of the kids were - but they were both so, so happy to realize he was coming.

He also learned that, while diner food would remain the undisputed king, homemade meatloaf came pretty close.

. . .

The only problem came when it was time to leave. It wasn’t that Jeremy didn’t want to return to work, or leave his Ma behind. Sara Jane wasn’t even torn up over losing her son and lover again. It just felt like there was so much left to say, to do. There was uncertainty as to when they’d be able to return. “We get time off for Smissmas, I know that’s months away but I’ll be here, I promise,” Jeremy swore, hugging Sara Jane for the eighth time.

“You better,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You have 25 years worth of gifts to catch up on, not to mention birthday gifts-”

“Ma, you don’t have to go that far,” he whined. He was touched, sure, but the thought of that much luggage was truly frightening. Oh God, he was going to have to get gifts for everybody, wasn’t he? What do kids even want for Smissmas?

“Hush, let me spoil my baby,” Sara Jane told him, kissing his cheek. “Oh, Jeremy…”

Jeremy nodded. “I know, but I’ll call. I’ll write, too. Send pictures if I can.”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Raphael assured her. Sara Jane stood to kiss his lips, with Jeremy looking away pointedly. “You have my word, ma petite chou-fleur.”

“Alright, alright- now get going, I don’t want you two missing your flight. That boss of yours sounds like she’ll tear you both a new one if you’re late,” Sara Jane said, shooing them away. “Love you boys!”

“I love you too, Ma!” Jeremy shouted back, for the very first time.

The drive back to the airport was quiet. Jeremy stared out the window, watching his hometown- he had a hometown- pass by. “Hey, dad?” he asked, still looking outside. Raphael grunted to acknowledge he was listening. “One of these days, our contracts with Mann Co. are gonna expire. We’re gonna have to find new jobs.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Raphael said. He tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel.

“And-and I was thinking when that time comes… maybe we could come back to Boston. Find some gigs out here,” Jeremy suggested.

Raphael sighed. “Unfortunately, being a spy means that you don’t have the option of retiring, Jeremy. Not until you’re unable to complete your job. At that point, though, you’ve probably died a dozen times over,” he explained. “Even if I could retire, settling down somewhere so close to people I care about- I would still have enemies.”

“Right. ‘Course,” Jeremy said. “It’s OK.”

“That being said,” Raphael continued, “you have the luxury of youth and not being tied down to such a career. If you want to find a job in Boston after we finish with RED, there’s nothing stopping you.”

“But people will still be after me, since I’m your son. And you wouldn’t be around.”

“Every child leaves their parents someday. And you’re strong, Jeremy. You can protect yourself and your family.” Raphael smiled. “I don’t believe Sara Jane needs much protecting, but I do worry.”

Jeremy laughed. “I mean, did ya see the muscles on Scott and Michael? Guys can probably bench press a tractor!”

They both chuckled before settling into quietude. Eventually, though, Jeremy had to break the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too, mon lapin.”

“...so your nickname for Ma is fucking ‘little cauliflower?’ What the hell, Dad?”

#father-son bonding au #Team Fortress 2 #team fortress 2 au #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 scout's mom #dad spy #thetriggeredhappy #spy x scout's ma #noodle writes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Laisse tomber les filles 11

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; sexual acts and dubcon, possible untagged elements..

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Thank;s for all your patience on this series.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You just wanted it to be over. The suffocating silence had you paralysed against the seat as the two men roiled in mutual loathing. Lee kept a hand on the wheel as his other kept wandering close to your skirt. You were embarrassed at his lack of shame.

Then it started. The whole seat shook with each kick of Andre’s feet against the back as he stomped the leather like a child. Lee jolted and gripped the wheel with both hands as he glared at the rear view mirror. He growled and cleared his throat.

“Boy, you don’t want to do this,” he snarled, “right now, you got one maybe two charges. I don’t care how rich your daddy is, I can have you at the station for months if I wanna.”

“Blah, blah, blah, you’re just small time, buddy,” Andre hissed, “gettin’ your kicks with college girls. It’s you who should be sitting back here--”

“And what were you doin’, boy? Houndin’ the girl across campus like ya do,” Lee retorted, “I’m tellin’ you one last time to shut your mouth.”

“Lee, please,” you murmured, “I just… please, just let him go and we can… um, be alone.”

“Oh yeah, she sounds real excited for your fat ass,” Andre chuckled.

“Andre,” you turned to peek over the seat, “I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help…” Andre jutted out his jaw and looked out the window, “...slut.”

The silence pervaded the car again. Lee’s breath gristled in his throat but he said nothing at his cheek twitched. You sat back and hugged yourself as you watched the road through the windshield. The tension strangled you and you just rocked as you wished for it all to be over. You wanted to go back to your dorm and hide under your covers.

The way ahead grew darker and while you weren’t familiar with much beyond the campus, it didn’t seem to be the way to the station. You glanced over at Lee and fidgeted. Trees rose around you and the land plateaued before a long bridge that stretched over a loudly flowing river.

Lee slowed and killed the engine. A shiver crept up your spine as you got a bad feeling in your stomach. You watched him climb out as his weight shook the car. You held your breath, time slowing as you held your breath and watched him open Andre’s door. It was the younger man’s huffs that brought you back to reality.

The sheriff dragged him out and they struggled as you pushed yourself across the seat and got out on the driver’s side. Lee fought with Andre as he angled him around to the railing of the bridge. You followed and saw the dark shadows of the crashing river as it dipped down into a dam.

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed onto Lee as he turned Andre to face the water, “what are you doing?”

“Now, honey, you go back to the car, you don’ need to be out here,” he elbowed you away, “I’m just teaching the boy a lesson.”

“Lee, please, let’s go--”

“Go back to the car now, dammit, woman,” he snapped and you flinched at his tone.

“Fucking pig,” Andre spat, “oh, I’m so afraid--”

“Uh huh,” Lee grumbled and bent and grabbed Andre’s legs. He thrust him up and over the rail, dangling him there as his cuffed arms bent awkwardly behind him, “y’aint scared, I see.”

“Hey, hey, let me up,” Andre demanded, “you fucking pyscho.”

“Now I just want you to think about how you talk to authority, boy,” Lee taunted, “lots more I could do than close you in a cell for the night and give a meal to tide ya over, don’t ya think?”

“You’re fucked,” Andre swore, “get me up.”

“I got no problem lettin’ you up, I just wanna hear it,” Lee snickered.

“Here what?”

“Here you beg,” Lee sneered, “just like this girl’s gonna be beggin�� for me and not you--”

“Lee,” you uttered in shock.

“Honey, now, I won’t tell ya again--”

Lee stumbled back and his arms flew out as he tried to catch himself. You heard Andre scream and ran up to watch him plummet down into the depths, legs flailing and crashing with a terrible splash. You gasped and covered your mouth as he dissipated into the black waves.

“Shit,” Lee grumbled as he stood and came up next to you, “I told ya go back in the car, distractin’ me like that.” He grabbed your shoulder and squeezed, “ain’t ya a good girl? You know how to listen, don’t ya?”

“Andre,” you tried to shrug the sheriff away, “is he--”

“Even if his head still in one piece, he got them hands tied,” Lee tutted, “goddamn accident like that, tragic thing.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you hang him--”

You were stunned as Lee shot his hand up to grip your chin. He forced your mouth closed and pushed you against the rail as he closed you in with his size. He glared at you in the shadow of his headlights, “what are you sayin’, girl? You talkin’ back to me?”

“Please--”

He pressed his finger to your lips and shushed you, “please, nothing, honey. This is your fault. That boy be back on his feet if you weren’t out her naggin’ me. You aint my wife yet.”

“Lee--”

“Sir,” he corrected you and poked his finger into your mouth, “now, they gon find that boy and they’ll call me and I’ll make sure they don’t get a whiff of us. You know kids, into weird things these days, always where they don’t belong.”

You blinked at him as your eyes glossed and pushed another finger into your mouth and hummed, “well, looks like we can get on with our date, honey pie.”

📚

It wasn’t until the lights of the city blurred your tears that you realised you were crying. You were horrified by the man beside you and yourself. You kept seeing Andre falling, hearing his scream, hearing the sharp splash against the water. You imagined the way his bones would’ve cracked and his lungs would fill as he was helpless to escape the flow of the river.

When the car stopped, you winced and Lee grabbed your hand as it balled tightly in your lap. He pried your fingers open and laced his between them.

“Honey pie, I’m sorry I spoke to ya like that,” he purred, “it was only… I was worried for ya. I didn’t want ya to see all that. Just tryna protect you and all that.”

“Can you take me home--”

“Home? Is that small room really a home, honey?” he shifted closer to your on the street and caressed your cheek, “you seen my home, our home. I wanna share it with you.”

“I got school,” you wisped weakly as he let go of your hand and slid his arm over your shoulders, “I can’t--”

“What you learnin’ in that school? You don’t need none of it. History? You can read at home.”

“But I… worked so hard. I wanna learn--”

“Let’s not talk about this right now, honey pie,” he cradled your chin, “it’s been a long night.”

You looked down, too hollow to argue. You didn’t want to marry him, at least you didn’t think you did. You still had another three years of school at the end of the semester and you enjoyed your classes. You might be alone but you weren’t lonely.

“So, you read some?” he asked as his thumb tapped on your chin.

“Yes,” you said quietly, “a little.”

“That first chapter,” he said as he pressed your lip down, “you wanna try some of that?”

Your eyes widened and you gulped. You looked out the window and realised that you didn’t know where you were. You could push him away and climb out but you wouldn’t know where to go from there. And you couldn’t do all that. You were trapped.

“Sure,” you replied and kept from sobbing, there was no other answer he would accept.

“Alright,” he pulled away and stretched his arms across the seat, “like I said, honey, you take the lead.”

You gaped at him and felt his gaze in the dim. The headlights were off and you heard the distant sound of tires. You were all alone in the heart of the metropolis. You rubbed your hands together as you hesitated.

“Your mouth, honey pie,” he breathed, “I been thinking about it all day.”

You remembered the opening scene in the book, the explicit descriptions of the sloppy mess of the act. You inhaled deeply and told yourself not to be you, be the woman in the book, be Delilah, the temptress.

You reached for Lee’s fly before you could snap back to doubt and fear. You tugged at his belt clumsily as your hands shook and you pushed down his zipper. You felt him harden beneath his pants as you did and you sucked in a lungful of air.

Your lips quivered as he groaned and tilted his hips. You pushed his fly open and reached into his briefs. You gripped him and gasped.

“That’s all for you, honey pie,” he purred, “see what you do to me?”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t find your voice in your tight throat. You licked your lips and braced yourself for what you were about to do. You’d come this far, there was no turning back.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #laisse tomber les filles #the devil all the time #au #college au

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bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

rose-colored boy

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x fem! reader)

ೃ tags: college/modern au, fluff, humor, love at first sight cliché, mikasa is your cute little sister, armin, sasha, jean, and connie are your besties, and eren is a himbo who works hard and has terrible friends.

ೃ warnings: strong language and mild suggestive content

ೃ part 1/??? of my (eren x reader) college au!

ೃ word count: 3000 words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist

ೃ This is my very first snk x reader fic! so i hope you bear with some errors! qwq

i’ve been following the anime ever since it was released in 2013, and this is the first time i’m going to be writing for it. this month’s manga chapter really took me out so why not channel my sadness thru writing an fluff! eren fic? 🤧 i hope you enjoy either way!

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ in which (Y/N) (L/N), 20, still in school, and regretfully-unregretfully-her little girl scout sister's assistant, meets eren jaeger in an embarrassing too innocent door-to-door cookie sale whilst a humiliating party was going on.

cookies, suspicious maybe-maybe-not pot brownies, meddling little sisters and friends, “oh my god they were roommates” vine on replay 24/7, homework, tears, and fairy lights bring them together.

“I’m going to enter now.”

“Ahhh yes, please!”

“Shut up, please.” Eren muttered to himself as he tossed and turned around in his bed, but still couldn’t get to sleep. “When will they ever stop doing this?” Why did Eren’s next-door roommate and his girlfriend have to do this five times a day? They had a lot of stamina for 21-year-olds who didn’t have anything better to do.

Eren’s thoughts eventually brought him to his parents.

His parents- did they even exist?

For pretty much 14 years of Eren’s life, they had been out of town or out of the country. His older brother, Zeke, blonde, bespectacled, tall, and sometimes too far up his own ass older brother who Eren is able to confide in from time to time, recently got a girlfriend whom he’s hopelessly in love with (they’re even thinking about getting married which isn’t really a problem since the girl is genuinely nice to his older brother so Eren is good with her.), so… things in the family had been a bit rough and busy to say the least.

Communication with his parents wasn’t always the best.

Eren would study late at night back when he was seven, because no one bothered to help him with homework. Along with the fact that he wasn’t the brightest kid in class, and he knew that very well, but he had ambition and he was determined to make it big in the world. He focused more on sports, particularly Soccer in middle school and high school, and tried to balance that with his studies. After being granted a Sports Scholarship from Shigashina University, Eren decided to rent and share a flat, living with his batchmates who he met at a mixer party (before Uni started as this whole meet and get to know each other kind of thing) and whom he was so quick to call his ‘friends’, just so that he could get out of the hellhole that was his own house.

But things turned out much worse than expected.

Eren thought that the ‘College Life’ was to focus more on pursuing your future career and make a name for yourself but… it was the other way around.

He thought that after Freshmen year, everyone would take things seriously. Sure, have some drinks, get wasted after finals, or have house parties from time to time. But he was unfortunately, dragged into the wrong crowd. After attending around 5 parties in the first few months of being generalized as one of the infamous and pompous freshman archetypes present in every university, he called it a year and spent the rest of his nights doing homework, projects, playing video games, staying at the school soccer field until 10PM while his roommates were probably smoking crack and not caring about the number of units they needed to take for each of their goddamn subjects.

He was ~living the life~ and now that he regrets most of the decisions he made in freshman year, the only option that he has left was to wait until his third year and move to a different apartment.

Now, here he was, Sophomore year, nearing the end of the semester, and very much eager to get the hell out of here and also study for his upcoming finals on Constitutional Law II, as his professor, Mr. Erwin Smith, was going to throw hands if one of his students score below average on the exam.

“EREN MICK JAEGER! BROOOO!” Eren winces when he hears the shrieky and annoying voice of his flatmate Thomas Wagner, calling out to him. “Wanna go and party with us?” Eren smiles halfheartedly, shaking his head, “Ah, no thanks. I have a game tomorrow and finals coming up on Thursday.” Thomas smirked and wrapped his arm around Eren, “Oh fuck that, live the college life ya spoon.”

“No, really I have to study.”

Thomas frowned and groaned, “Oh god, you’re such a killjoy. Fine, if that’s what you want. Don’t blame us if we tell you to buy some beer down the block.”

Eren cracked an obviously fake laugh and pushed Thomas away from him, “You’re an ass. That only happened once and that was when we first met. Don’t you even dare try to ask me to buy you shit again.”

“Woah. Woah. Woaaaaaah. That was a joke Eren. Loosen up will you?” Thomas raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the brunette’s sudden aggressiveness. He hums Moves like Jaeger by Maroon 5 as a way to spite Eren whilst passing by him down the staircase.

The brunette shook his head, tying his hair into a bun carelessly and sprinting into his room without uttering another word.

Eren just wanted to study. He really did.

Instead, his roommates, all of them, mind you, were all partying in the lounge and the music was too loud and Eren was too annoyed.

They did manage to bring him out and make him stay in the kitchen where he mindlessly glared at anyone who came in. He sighed and tapped his pen restlessly amongst the insane amount of books on the table.

There was a knock.

His roommate, Floch, came in the kitchen with his girlfriend who Eren couldn’t even name with all the women he has brought into the apartment. She was hanging onto his arm and giggling. Floch’s eyes were red and his speech very slow and lazy. "Eren!" he said with a sly grin.

Eren raised an eyebrow, shooting him an irritated look. "What now Floch? Are you here to tell me to take a shot again?" The ginger-haired’s girlfriend giggled once again and kissed Floch’s cheek. Floch laughed and swatted her away, though he missed by a long shot. "Someone's at the door," a thumb pointing to the den. "wouldchumind ge'in it?" another giggle. The girl nodded sloshily. "Yesss! Erenieee get 'em door, please. Be a dearrrrr."

Eren frowned and stared at them menacingly, earning no reaction from the two as they were mad drunk. "You were just in the den," Floch’s eyes widened. "My lovey wovey-we was in the den?" His girlfriend’s mouth went into an O. "Di'nt notice tha'!"

Eren sighed and stood up. He miraculously got through the throng of bodies and to the front door. "Yes?" he called out exasperated, not knowing who was outside.

"Do you want cookies?"

Eren turned and looked to see a little raven-haired girl, a girl scout no less, a blonde-haired boy pulling on a trolley who looked significantly shorter than him, wearing rimmed glasses, and an overall appearance whom his “friends” would immediately label as a nerd they had to be a few feet away from if they saw him and lastly, a girl who looked very tired and very done with life.

Beautiful (h/c)-colored hair, her eyes looked like the starry night sky, twinkling as he catches her gaze and a smile that looked forced, but warm all the same.

A girl who was just absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Eren was captivated. His heart was beating like crazy and he could feel his ears turn red. He would make a fool of himself if he looked red as a tomato right now.

"Um," The girl peeked inside and grimaced, squeezing the hand that was her little sister's shoulder and catching Eren’s gaze. "Mikasa, I don't think these kinds of guys would want cookies."

“Unless they're pot cookies,” Eren almost said. Mikasa pouted and widened her eyes at Eren.

The older girl crouched down and frantically covered her little sister’s eyes. "Nopenopenope, Mi, don't pull that on him."

"But (Y/N)!"

(Y/N).

Her name was (Y/N).

Eren smiled sincerely (for the first time today) and leaned back inside to the drawer by the door to grab the extra cash he and his roommates put there for emergency pizza and stuff. "You know what? You're absolutely brilliant at selling cookies. I'll take one."

Mikasa smiled back at him cheekily and tugged her older sister’s hand. "See, (Y/N)?! He wants some! Go get 'em!”

The raven-haired girl then turned to the blonde teen, practically jumping up and down. “Armin look! We sold another one!"

“We did!” The boy who was apparently named Armin, clapped his hands together, then gave the little girl a high five. “You’re a natural at this Mikasa!”

(Y/N) looked at Eren, then Mikasa, and sighed. She grabbed a bag from the trolley Armin was dragging around and pulled out a box of cookies. Eren grabbed them slowly from her, their hands almost touching as he gave (Y/N) a small smile. The (h/c) girl blushed lightly, though not visible enough for the brunette to notice.

"Hope to see you again!" Eren called out when the siblings said their thank you's and bid farewell.

And, this time, even for the slightest moment, Eren’s serotonin levels were going straight through the roof. His heart was still beating loudly, almost in sync with the trash music his roommates were blaring on the speakers. and for a moment, even just for a moment.

He felt genuine happiness that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

The three of you continue to walk animatedly, now that the coast was clear and the guy from earlier wasn’t within earshot, your blonde friend just had to break the silence.

Armin smiles, pushing his glasses up to the crook of his nose. “(Y/N), you did see how he looked at you right?” The blonde chuckles softly, catching his best friend off guard.

You blinked. “Him?” You try to stop yourself from smiling, blushing profusely. “Geez Armin, I don’t even know his name yet.”

“I’ll bet you 100 bucks that he goes to our Uni.”

“Even if he does, it’s not like we’ll talk to him or anything. Judging from the place he lives in and the people he was hanging out with, we’re in two completely different worlds.” You shook your head in denial, holding Mikasa’s hand, your interlocked arms swinging playfully. Armin gives you a knowing look in response.

Mikasa continued to wave back at the boy whom they had just sold cookies too. (Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Wasn’t he nice (Y/N)?” Mikasa asks her older sister. (Y/N) returned her sister a small smile, “He was.”

"I hope we see him again!"

"I'm sure we will."

The day of Eren’s dreaded finals finally arrive.

He has prepared tirelessly for this. Hours upon hours of hard work. But, before he finally gets his well-deserved sleep, he has a few more hours to cram and absorb more knowledge for his exams.

So, what better way to do so than head straight to the library as soon as it opens at 6 AM?

This time, no one was going to bother him. No annoying roommates and no distractions.

Eren heads over to a table near the coffee and snack machines. He puts down his bag on a seat next to him, and begins to study once again. Looking through the course materials and the lessons that he still didn’t quite understand. Eren was so absorbed with studying and relying on his gut feeling that no other student in this university would think of going to the library at 6 AM on the day of finals… then he’s wrong. Very wrong.

“Sasha, should you even be eating mashed potato this early in the morning?” Armin asks the brunette worriedly, a huge tone of concern in his voice.

“Armin! Don’t chu worry! I ate heavy breakfast! Bacon, Eggs, and Toast! Did you not see me in the kitchen!?” She reassures her blonde friend, continuing to scoop up the mashed potato on a reusable cup.

“Liar.” Connie hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I was awake since 4 AM. Not once did I see you sneak into the kitchen until (Y/N) woke you up.”

“Atatata. Can we… stop with the negative vibes for a second?” Jean tries to become the mediator by holding his hands up against his two friends who were about to start an argument. “It’s finals week. We have to keep a clear mind, body and soul-“

“Jean, you know that’s BS.” You yawn widely, still practically half-asleep.

“Oh, come on! Can’t you just let me be positive just this once!? If we fail this exam I’m going to blame you!“

The five of you continue to talk mindlessly on the way to the library. Connie pushes the glass door open, very much excited to have this huge library all to yourselves.

Until…

There was someone already there.

Your eyes immediately come into contact with Eren’s. His radiant jade eyes staring into yours, mouth practically agape, his hands holding on to wooden chopsticks as the hot air of instant ramen breezes through his face.

“Oh?” Connie blinks. “Guess we aren’t the first ones here then.” He whistles.

“(Y/N)!” Armin nudges you in the arm in an attempt to tease you. “Guess your wish came true huh? We did see him again! By himself too!”

“W-what am I supposed to do exactly?” You turn to Armin, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Say thank you to him! Offer him to go on a boba date or something!”

“You got the Sasha seal of approval (Y/N)! He’s hot!” Sasha motions you a thumbs up and you can’t help but feel yourself already wanting to die of embarrassment.

The four of them slightly push you towards his table. With your friends cornering you like this, there was no way of escaping this.

All you had to do was talk to him and properly thank him for buying cookies from your little sister.

That was it.

No need for any extra ad-libs or poor and bad attempts of flirtation.

Just thank him (Y/N).

You can do this.

You breathe a hefty sigh then approach his table with confidence. The brunette continues to look up at you whilst turning the page of his reviewer that he wasn’t even looking at.

“Hi again! I just wanted to thank you properly for helping my sister and I, out the other day. Mikasa really appreciated the gesture you did for her, and she couldn’t stop talking about you to our parents since we saw you. You see, none of the other girl scouts want to be paired up with my sister because they think she’s an emotionless and monotonous freak. They’re really mean to her but she really wants to continue being a girl scout so my friend and I accompany her whenever she has to sell cookies!”

“It’s N-no problem!” Eren quickly replies, running a hand through his hair. “Why would they say such horrible things to your sister like that? Judging from the way she acted in front of me, she was quite the opposite. In a positive way of course! Those kids are just assholes who are intimidated because another girl their age is seemingly better than them.”

You giggle in response. “Thank you. I’ll tell Mikasa that you said that!”

There was short silence for a few seconds until you realized that you forgot to say something.

“Ah! I’m (Y/N) (L/N) by the way!”

“Eren.” He smiles, reaching his hand out to you for you to shake. You grip his strong and calloused hand firmly, and Eren could feel his ears turning red again while you were about to blush as red as a tomato.

You hear your friends snickering in the background and you took this as a sign to go back to your table. “I guess, I’ll see you around campus?” You ask, tilting your head. For, you actually really wanted to see him again after this.

“Yea! I’ll be seeing you!” He grins widely, watching you leave where he was seated. His smile then envelops into a frown as soon as you went away then he goes back to studying.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Connie whispers loudly, calling you over by waving his hand. Why was this dunce being so painfully obvious? “Ask him if he’s looking for an apartment or if he wants to live with us!”

“Already!?” You ask in disbelief, a bit shocked by what Connie had just said. He scoots to the left, as you take a seat between him and Sasha. “Guys, you’ve known him for like… 3 minutes. Only Armin and I actually interacted with him before this.”

“He has to pass the vibe check first.” Jean shrugs, sipping on an iced expresso. “But, yeah, he does seem alright from a few feet away.”

“Come on (Y/N)! Ask him!” Sasha nods approvingly. “It’s weird that he’s studying alone like this while we’re in another table trying to remain unaware that he looks lonely as hell.”

“UMmMM… maybe he wants to study alone because that’s the only way he can focus? That’s a thing that normal people do, Sasha.” You remark sarcastically, trying to think up of more reasons to not approach him again.

Armin clears his throat, “Look, (Y/N), it won’t hurt to try right? Besides, don’t you feel a tiny bit sorry for him? He does seem lonely and you do have a crush on him so… more ways to interact with him right?”

Your shoulders slump and you breathe a defeated sigh. “Okay okay fine.” You make your way to Eren’s table again but before you do, you turn to your friends. “By the way, I don’t really have a crush on him just yet. I just find him cute okay?”

“Yeah yeah.” They say in unison as you continue to walk back to the brunette’s table.

“Hi again Eren!” You wave and try your best not to fumble or look painfully obvious that you were infatuated by him. He looks up and you try your best not to smile like a weirdo.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Would you like to come over to our table and study with us?”

To be continued.

#shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren x you #snk #aot

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redhairedfeistynerd · 3 years

Text

Slush and a Side of Toys

Part 1

A/N: I'm months behind on everything but here is my piece for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark Winter/Holiday Festival Challenge. I chose #38 donating toys to children.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, angst, frustrated reader, swearing, alcohol

Words: 5800+

Part 2 will be up soon!!

Please like, comment and reblog. I appreciate it and thanks for reading.

All mistakes are my own

A reminder - my work is not to be reposted anywhere.

There’s a muffled humming coming from somewhere under a pile of paperwork and takeout containers on your floor. The sound is constant, piercing, and irritating. Eyes still closed, head pounding from an evening of too much wine and schmoozing, you reached down towards the sounds and ran your hands over the stack, following the vibrations of your phone. Once found, you yanked it away from it charging cord and used every ounce of energy you had, pulling the phone close to your face. Opening one eye a sliver to hide from the light, you read from the bright screen.

Hey, listen, I know we've had our differences the last few years but I think it's time we put all of it behind us. I saw Rosie the other day and asked her how you were doing but she kept it pretty vague. I hope to hear from you soon, even if it's only a text to say you’re doing okay.

Reading over the message a second time, in utter shock that he had the audacity to message you and pissed that he even dare ask your friend about how you were; you decided to turn off your phone and toss it into a pile of clothing on the floor.

What. A. Dick.

Rolling back over into your cozy blanket cocoon, falling back asleep, temporarily pushing away any thoughts of the man from your past.

The message was all but forgotten until later that day when a familiar song came on the radio and you couldn’t help but think about how you had both downed several beers at a pub and sang it at the top of your lungs. Maybe it had been a dream earlier and the text never happened. Pulling your phone from your back pocket, hoping it was all your imagination, you indeed saw that there was a text.

The ever-so-hard to escape blue eyed man, was trying to weasel his way back into your life and you weren't having any of it. Dropping the phone into the bag sitting at your feet, getting up from the desk, shaking out a bit to ease the tension that one tiny text had accumulated.

"Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't think about him," you repeated the words over and over, hoping to push all thoughts aside. In stocking feet, walking around the small hole you called your office and continued to shake it out. The calm didn’t last as long as you hoped, anger slowly creeping up and out.

"Stupid frikkin guy!! UGH!" The sound of your disgruntled cry, shook you a bit, the frustration clearly coming out louder than expected. "All right, settle yourself down, you can't let him have this sort of pull over you," hoping the self-talk would work, you ran your hand through your hair and walked back to the desk. "Delete it, pretend that you never looked at it and it will go away."

There was no way the struggle going on inside your head would even fathom deleting the text. Truth be told, as much as you cursed and hated the thought of him trying to slide back into your life, there wasn’t a month that went by without a thought of him crossing your mind. A song playing, a Romcom from the 90s, the pizza you both loved so much. Why couldn’t you escape him?

You shot off a quick text to Rosie, curiosity was killing you now, itching inside you, desperate to find out how the hell you had come up in conversation.

Y/N -Word on the street is that you ran into a clown I once knew; I’m curious what was said.”

Rosie: Oh no, he didn’t.

Y/N: He did and it was pathetic

Rosie: It was a super quick interaction. Both of us waiting for a coffee and being friendly. He asked about you almost right off the bat though. It almost rendered me speechless after what happened.

Y/N - So, that’s it? What did you say? Did you tell him how fantastic my life is going and that I probably wouldn’t even remember him?

Rosie: you and I both know, that that’s a load of shit. I’ve had wine nights with you, that man-child has never left that brain of yours.

Y/N Shut up.

Rosie: Really though, it was super quick. I said you were doing charity work and were still in the city, happy and healthy.

Y/N- good to know. I’ll just sit here and pretend his message never happened then. Carry on as usual.

Rosie: see you later this week?

Y/N Definitely, bye babe.

Placing your phone down on your desk, you continued opening your mail: thank you cards for volunteering, appreciation notes from parents and kids, and requests for you to help out at other groups around town. The next month would be hectic, with collecting the many donations from around the city. You had to finish training several new volunteers that would assist with wrapping, delivering, and presenting gifts to the charities and individual families that you helped support during the Winter months.

It became a mechanical process, opening envelope after envelope, that you weren’t paying attention to the return addresses. It wasn’t until you read the first few lines that the letterhead caught your eye and did it burn.

Blue-eyed monster strikes again via his mother.

You knew it wasn’t the case though, his mom, was offering a bursary to some of the kids you helped out and she was reaching out to you and other groups in the city to help.

It didn’t take much to pull your mind from work once you had read the Evans name on the letter. Bits and pieces shifted in your mind; you couldn’t fight it any more today. The letter slipped to the floor and you sat back against your desk, the memories that you had been pushing away, were flooding back.

It all started innocently about three years ago, bumping into one another around town, having several acquaintances that knew each other, and a tendency to make the other smile when the lamest dad jokes were thrown around. His face was incredibly animated and you loved the way his eyebrows would jump up while he spoke, there was mischief behind them that you wanted to discover. Even a quick peek, would ease the curiosity.

You recognized that laugh from across the room of the gallery – full of heart and genuine. Turning around, you spotted Chris mingling with other attendees of the charity event. You were here to help raise money for low-income families in the community that could not afford music lessons or music therapy for their children. The profits from the art sold this evening, would help buy instruments for the school that was set to open the following month. You knew Chris had donated and you had volunteered to help teach the parents with baby's groups every second weekend. It was the least you could do, you had a bit of extra time and needed to give back to the community that helped you and your family out during your childhood.

“How did I know you would be here?”

You must have zoned out thinking about that boisterous laugh that you didn’t see Chris walking over to you. You smiled as he leaned in wrapping one arm around you, a beer being held in his other hand. His smell was intoxicating – a mixture of orange and the woodiness of sandalwood. Would it be wrong if you pulled him closer to take a quick whiff before he pulled away?

He took his time moving back from you, winking as his arm shifted back to his side and lifting the beer to his mouth with the other, take a long sip.

“So, you out here to buy some art?” he asked, taking another drink.

“No, not buying tonight. One of the pieces is mine, I donated it to help out.”

“You have something up for sale here?” He questioned, taking a quick spin around to quickly look at all the art hanging around the gallery. “Which one is yours?”

“Oh, I am NOT telling you that. I think I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which one is mine. You can play the role of Sherlock Holmes.”

“Now, that’s just cruel.”

“Cruel? Nah. Mysterious? Yes. Are you up for a little game of 5 questions to help you out? If you can guess which one is mine, then I guess you have bragging rights because I haven’t discussed my art with anyone here. If you don’t figure it out, then I suppose it will be a mystery forever.”

“Oh, I KNOW I’ll be able to figure this out!” Chris says loudly, clapping his hands together and popping each shoulder up and down. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Here’s the deal, you ask me whatever you need to to figure out which one is mine. Obviously, you can’t ask which one is mine as one of your questions. Ready?”

“Ready!�� Chris said enthusiastically. He took your hand and brought you to the front of the room to observe the first of the paintings. “Let’s take a quick gander and then I’ll start. How does that sound to you?”

“Whatever you need to do, Evans.”

Chris pulled you from canvas to canvas, still holding your hand as he inspected each piece. “First question. “Did you only use paint for the one you donated?”

“NOPE, next question, Evans!”

“Okay, okay, I got this,” he bounced around on the spot and turned his head to quickly glance over the works close to him. “Shit, I guess I should have asked if what you donated was a painting, right?”

You walk a circle around Chris “Is that your question?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

His blue eyes flick quickly to yours before he says, “Ya, actually...ya. That’s what I want to know. Did you submit a painting?”

“Yes, one of my paintings is hanging somewhere in one of these giant rooms.”

“You really don’t think that I’m capable of figuring this out, do you? Ye of little Faith,” he smirked and pulled you to the back of the dark room. “Any reason why it’s so dark back here?”

“Maybe that’s what the artist wanted?”

“Here’s question three then,” he said as he pulled you closer to him, your eyes looking into his as he asked. “Is you painting in the dark room?”

“Is that really what you want to ask me?”

Chuckling, you take hold of his hand and lead him to another section of the gallery. “I don’t want you to miss any pieces, so take a look around here before you ask number three.” He squeezed your hand and looked up, the ceiling adorned with a beautiful piece; birds in flight but as they reached the furthest wall, the began to decay, until only single feathers remained.

“Here’s number three, ready?” He looked to his left where you were nodding your head back. “Did you mainly use your hands for this piece? I mean, instead of brushes or other tools.”

You were silent for a moment before answering, did you want to tell him how much of yourself you had put into this piece? That what the brushes couldn’t do, you did with your hands and arms? “I did. This one needed more than brushes.”

Chris smiled at you, “feel like telling me what else you used?”

“Not a chance,” you said, grabbing a glass of white wine from the tray passing by. “You want a glass?”

Chris held up his bottle, its content revealing that it was still half full. “I think I have a pretty good idea which one is yours, so these last two questions are going to be good.” With two large gulps, he finished up the rest of his beer. “So, what happens when I guess, do I get some sort of prize? Maybe you could paint me or something?”

“If you mean, could I dump a bucket of paint over your cocky head, then, sure!”

Chris burst out laughing, pulling you into him for a squeeze. “I love how you make me laugh and I bet you would actually do that to me. But really, if I do guess, what happens?”

You kept your body close to his, his arm still holding you close as you responded, “what do you think would be suitable prize, Chris? Do you want me to paint something, make you a prince? Maybe something of you and Dodger? Or maybe I could paint your like one of my French girls.”

“I would love one of your pieces, but if I win this, I’d like to take you out. Is that okay with you?”

Your grip tightened around the wine glass, trying not to let it slip to the floor. It was a shock, to hear that this man, one that you had flirted with for months, was asking if you wanted to go out with him.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, I... I didn’t expect you to ask me that,” you answered, fidgeting with your hands out of awkwardness.

“It’s ok, you can say no! It’s all right to tell me no.”

“No. No. I’d love that. If you can guess which one is mine, I will gladly go out with you. Dinner, drinks, walk – whatever you like.”

Chris placed his empty beer on the table closest to you. “Ready for my last two questions?”

“As ready as one can be.”

“Is your piece hung on the wall as a landscape?”

“Look at you Evans, you got another one.”

Chris rubbed his hands together, his smile wide and full, clearly showing that he was on a winning streak. “Here’s number four and then I’ll go right to the painting I think, the painting I know it is. Chris walked back and forth in front of you before turning to face you with his last question. You had grabbed another glass of wine and took a sip, waiting for his winning question. “Does your piece use more than black and white? – so many of these photos, sculptures, paintings are very monotone.”

“You’re good Evans and yes, I filled my picture with the rainbow. So, take my hand and show me what the answer to this mystery is.”

His warm hand took your free one and he walked you to one of the side rooms – this room was full of colourful pieces. You could feel the heat flushing across your cheeks and a thin layer of sweat formed at your hairline. Chris stopped and turned towards the back wall and pointed to one of the paintings. “I’m pretty sure this one is yours,” he said with a half-smile. “Am I right?”

You had wished, during those few minutes he had suggested that he take you out, that he would guess which one is yours. But what were the chances with over 40 pieces around you? You tried to keep your body from slouching before you softly answered “No. That’s not mine.”

The happiness in his eyes left quickly once you responded.

“Are you going to tell me which one is yours though?” He asked you eagerly.

“No, I think I’m going to keep that secret to myself. Thanks for the fun, Evans, I should get home. Another day of charity work for me tomorrow.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’d still like to take you out though, will you let me do that, please?”

“I guess we’ll have to see what the future brings,” you replied, giving him a little wink and a squeeze to his hand, you took one last sip of your wine before heading to the coat check.

Chris watched you as you wrapped a scarf around your neck and slipped your arms into the long, wool coat. Walking back over to him and wrapping your arms around him, it was a quick hug and he barely had an arm around you before you were stepping back. With a smile on your face, you turned and stepped out into the night. Chris watched as you turned right and glanced his way, your hand lifting up and into a quick wave. He couldn’t stop smiling and knew he had to see you again.

It didn’t take long for that to happen. You couldn’t get him out of your thoughts and dreams after the encounter at the gallery. He really was something; funny, compassionate, a hard worker, and you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly good looking.

After an event in town and a few drinks later, it was easy as pie, asking him over for dinner. He had initially thought you were pulling his leg.

Chris couldn’t stop laughing. "Oh ya, sure you want me to come over for dinner," laughing at your request and taking a sip of his IPA.

The pink that had flushed across your cheeks when you had shyly asked him was disappearing like an ice cube in hot soup. He picked up on the change immediately and apologized profusely. "I didn't think you were serious! You are serious, right?”

"Why wouldn't I be? It's just dinner," you shrugged. “I don’t see why you would have such a dramatic response to a simple question.” There was an awkwardness now and maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to come over. “Sorry, I thought since we kind of hand a friendship blooming and I tend to invite friends over...”

He took hold of your arm and pulled you into his chest, a big smile across his face. “I'll come by; don’t you worry. Which day this week works for you? I'll be out of state after this week for a bit, so hopefully something the next few days will work for you,” he said, squeezing you a bit before he released his hold on you.

Trying not to be awkward, you responded "This week will definitely work, tomorrow or the next day are open for me."

"Let’s go for tomorrow, okay? Would you like me to bring anything?” Chris smiled

“Be sure to bring the dog, he's the one I'm really inviting.”

"Well, fat chance of me coming by now, I see where your allegiances lie, " he said half closing his eyes and glaring at you in a teasing manner.

"Ok then, just drop the dog off, I'm sure he'll enjoy the feast."

Chris couldn't help laugh at the way you were carrying on with this charade. The half-smile that was currently on your face was one full of mischief and it was something that he had come to enjoy the last few times he had run into you around town. He could see a sparkle in your eyes, something that he didn’t notice before today and it was something, that he could get used to.

“A thought crossed my mind... what exactly would have happened if I had guessed right?”

“Since that didn’t happen, I guess you’ll never know,” you said with a shrug and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You sure like to tease me.”

“What exactly am I teasing you over?”

“The opportunity to be in your presence again,” he replied, a slight blush crossing his cheeks.

Finishing up your drink, you placed the glass back on the cardboard coaster and turned to face him.

“What the hell is THIS?” he asked grabbing at the green monster type thing that was hanging from a lamp in your living room

"That, is a flying frog - one of those weird ass dad gifts - he's always finding these peculiar creatures for me and I can't seem to part with them.

"It's sure ugly"

"You're ugly!” You shouted back at him and burst into the most beautiful smile he had seen cross your face.

"What are you, 12?

"Sometimes,” you replied.

Chris couldn’t help but laugh at you and pull you into a quick side hug. "You're a funny one" he feels you squeeze him back softly, a smile crossing his face at the quick interaction.

"I better go take a peek in the oven and make sure everything is baking the way it should. Make yourself cozy, I'll be right back." You looked back to him, pointing at the couches before turning and walking down the hallway to the kitchen. Turning you head back, forgetting to offer him a drink but his long strides had brought him right behind you quickly, almost colliding with your body. He tripped up a bit and moved his hand to your hip to catch himself.

"I want to see what you're up to in here, see what the chef is cooking up.” Chris resting his chin on your shoulder to peek at what you were stirring on the stove.

“You couldn’t sit still and wait for me to come back, did you miss me that much,” you teased.

“I couldn’t stand to be apart from you for a second longer.”

“That is the cheesiest lines, Evans. Does shit like that work for you?”

“What matters is, if it’s working on you. So, is it?”

You hummed, refusing to answer the question and carried on taking care of the food in the oven. Satisfied with how everything looked, you turned the timer back on and offered Chris a drink. Agreeing on wine, you pulled a bottle from the rack, passed the stemless glasses to Chris, grabbed his hand, and lead him back into the other room. Sitting on the larger of your two couches, Chris took a place beside you, taking the bottle from your hand, opening the bottle, and pouring you a generous glass before pouring his own.

“To friendship,” he said raising his glass

“To friendship, good food, and drinks,” you added and brought your glass to his, a quick clink, and sips were taken.

Dinner was ready within the hour and you both continued to chat while enjoying your meal.

“That was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time, thank you”, complimented Chris as he wiped his mouth with the napkin when he had finished his last bite.

The compliment brought the feeling of heat to your face and out of awkwardness you almost knocked your glass over as you reached for the wine.

“Want a refill?” You asked, holding up the second bottle of red that night. “You have good taste in wine, Mr. Evans, this wine is top notch,” you said, looking over the label of the wine he had brought with him.

Chris smirked and slid the glass to his left “I’m glad you think so, I’ll definitely have another. This should probably be the last one though, I feel like I’m overstaying my welcome.” He watched as you poured, your hair falling forward as the wine glass filled. “Cheers, thank you for the invite and many thanks for a delicious meal. You are constantly surprising me with your talents.”

“You aren’t overstaying. I’m enjoying your company and don’t want you to leave yet. Here, let me show you what I’m working on for this year’s event,” you said and pulled your phone out of your dress pocket and slid your finger across the screen. Shifting your body across the cushions toward Chris, you held the phone out towards him.

“What is it you are putting on this year?”

“Another charity event, it’s to help out the single parents that live in the community. I try to donate as much time to charities as possible.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“I want everyone to have a special holiday season, you do it. I see that you donate time and money to charities.”

“I have the means to help and giving back is extremely important to me.” Chris looked through a few more of the photos before placing the phone down next to him on the couch.

Reaching over to take her phone, Chris put his hand over yours and slid closer. “I know you always think I’m joking around with you when I say how much I love seeing you smile but I’m being 100% honest. Your smile is contagious and I feel like it lights up anywhere we are. It’s a beautiful smile and its part of why I’m so attracted to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Oh shush, you!” you said pushing your hand into his chest, your smile wider than he had seen before. Again, he put his hand over yours and pulled you to him gently with his other hand. He brought you close, enough to hold you against him for a hug. He watched as your eyes tried to find a joke hidden in his face but you quickly realized that there was something else there. You weren’t sure who moved first as your lips met quickly enough that your teeth clacked together and you swore in pain.

“Oh fuck, only I would ruin an almost perfect moment. I’m such an-

He pulled you to his lips again, kissing you softly and trying not to laugh at the look on your face.

“Am I a joke to you, Evans?” you asked, kissing him back on the lips.

“Oh, not at all, I didn’t want to have to explain to people we know how I broke your teeth though. I mean, I could make up some ridiculous story about it, could be fun,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, bringing yourself back up to face Chris and pull him by his shirt towards you and kissing him without any stupid errors. You could taste the wine on him, the sweetness adding to the softness of your kiss. He took the lead, pulling you closer and slipping his tongue delicately across your bottom lip before deepening the kiss.

Your eyes opened when you hear Chris let out a soft moan, not expecting to hear such a sound from him before you could emit one. He did it again and you felt it all the way down your spine and into your soul. Your hands, still in idiot mode, found their way to his hair, and were quickly taking apart his well-coiffed hair by running your hands through it.

“How does your hair smell so damn incredible?

“How do you taste so fucking delicious?

You pulled back, staring him in the eyes “Hmm, maybe you need to taste a bit more, clean that palate of yours,” you teased.

“Are you implying...”

“Not implying, the buffet is open, sir. Dig in.”

Chris’s face went a light shade of red.

“Oh, did I catch you off guard, Casanova?”

“I mean, no... no...’ he stumbled, “OK, fine yes, yes you did.”

“Well, now that you know, let’s get back to business. All right?”

You took control, standing up, taking his hand roughly and leading him to your bedroom.

“I want you to take off my clothing, piece by piece. I want to see it on the floor and,” you said placing her finger on his lips, “no more talking,” you ordered.

“Anything you want,” he whispered into your ear and he ran his tongue down your neck so softly, that goosebumps raised over yours arms. His hands wandered from your shoulders and down your arms, taking hold of your hands and moving them to his belt buckle.

Looking up to him, he nodded, silently urging you. Undoing the belt and still staring into his eyes. Moving to unzip his jeans and push the button away, Chris was unzipping the back of your dress, the cool line of metal touching your back as he drew the zipper down the length of your back.

“You have goosebumps, do I need to warm you up?

“I’m hoping you get to that. Now, what did I say about talking?”

He smirked, pushing the dress down each shoulder until it dropped to the floor. Stepping out of it, you kicked it off with one foot, tossing it towards the wall. Chris’s hands were already roaming, his hands on your hips, fingers sliding into the thin elastic of your panties. His hands slipped across your warm flesh and directly to your cheeks, grabbing each one and squeezing, and pulling you closer to him. His lips were pressed into yours, his tongue back to searching for yours as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you to your bed. Gently, he sat you on the edge and leaned into you bringing you down to the mattress.

His kisses ran down your sternum and across the soft skin of your breasts while his hands ran across the tops, gently running his fingers over your nipples.

“Keep doing that, keep... keep touching my breasts, Chris.”

You could feel him pressing into you, his erection, warm and pushing against your core.

His hands squeezed your left breast while he brought his mouth down to your right, taking the nipple into his mouth, gently sucking it. Running his tongue around the bud, a chill running across your arms and a moan escaping your lips.

“I need to be in you now, please, y/n,” he said, kissing up your chest.

“In the drawer, condoms are there and hurry the hell up, Evans, I’ve waited forever for it to rain and fill up the well.”

He chuckled as he crawled over you, limbs knocking yours, a soft hand slapped across his ass, as you watched him open the nightstand drawer, which got stuck in his effort to hurry. “Come on Evans, you got this,”

“A little self-talk over there to get you motivated?”

Chris smiled as he held up the package and smiled at you before sitting on the edge of the bed to roll the condom down his hard length. He was on you again, returning quickly, his lips pressing against yours. His lips, wet and warm, pushed harder against your mouth as he pushed your legs further apart, taking himself in his hand, rubbing across your wetness and pushing halfway. The groan that escaped his mouth while his tongue continued to touch yours, sent a tingling sensation down your body.

“Chris, please...” you started to plead and before you could continue, he finished pressing himself into you with a grunt.

“Come on baby, show me how well you can move,” he said as he licked a strip across your neck.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and shifting your body against his, you let out a wail. Your bodies moved together, the pace quick, the sounds of your wetness echoing throughout your room.

“Listen to the sounds we’re making, baby,” Chris panted and drove deeper into you. His body was incredibly warm against yours, the sweat making his chest glisten in what light crept in from the hallway.

Chris slipped his hand down and his fingers met your warmth, crawling in to press against your clit. You clenched around him; a low moan escaped his mouth as he continued his movements.

“A bit more, a bit more,” you groaned, your back arching as Chris sped up. You looked up at him and reached your hand up to his face, holding on and staring into his blue eyes as you felt the tingling ball up within.

Faster than expected and with one last swipe of his fingers, your orgasm spread out from within. Your shoulders tingled, spreading down to your fingers as you yelped out, the warmth of pleasure flowing down and across your body. Chris had shifted to move into you, helping your orgasm along as his own shuddering began. His lips were pressed into your neck, your name crossing his lips as he slowed his pace, and leaned onto one of his arms. He continued kissing up your neck and met your lips, heavy breaths escaping from both of your mouths.

“You’re incredible Y/N. Incredible.” One more kiss was pressed to your lips before Chris sat up, heading to the bathroom. You watched the light turn on and the door close behind him. You rolled to your side; a smile of satisfaction crossed your face as you closed your eyes.

Your heart jumped when you were woken by blankets being pulled half off of your naked body. It took you a few seconds to realize that a man, a very handsome man, was sleepy peacefully beside you. Turning to face his back and shimmying closer, you pulled the blanket to cover your shoulders and back. His muscular back stared at you and you couldn’t help but raise your hand to the pale skin, bringing your fingertip to his warm skin and drawing lines to connect each freckle.

“You, know, that feels incredible, please don’t stop,” Chris asked, his words muffled into the pillows.

You continued using his back as your canvas; swans, sunrises, all the beautiful pieces of the world this man helped you see.

Pushing back into you Chris spoke, “I’m going to be away next week, so I’m hoping I can see you again before I head out of town?”

Your fingers drew the word yes on his shoulder in response. Chris turned over to face you, pulling you closer to him for a soft kiss. When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile and pulled him in for something a bit more passionate.

Bags packed and his dog set to stay with his family, he walked by the room Scott was in. “Hey, I’m heading out, the car is almost here. Give me a hug for the road.” His younger brother stood up and embraced him, giving him a few pats on the back and wishing him well for his short trip. “Will I see you when I get back or you heading back home?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be around still. Mom wants me to stay in town a bit longer. You okay if I’m still free loading off of you a bit longer than planned?”

“You know you’re more than welcome to stay,” he said as his phone chimed from his pocket. “Cars here. Take care of the fam and Dodger for me.” His brother gave him a smile and Chris grabbed his coat and carry-on from the table before heading to the front of the house. Dammit, he had forgotten to remind Scott again about what they had discussed earlier that day. “Scott, make sure you get that message to Y/N, okay? This schedule change was pretty last minute.” He shut the door before he heard a response from his brother. The driver held the door open for him and collected his bags to place in the trunk. He couldn’t get you out of his mind on the way to the airport; your smile, the scent of your hair, the warmth of your naked skin pressed against his. He couldn’t wait to be next to you again.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans rpf #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #writing challenge #ssholidaychallenge #redwrites

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7-wonders · 3 years

Text

Hardships Unnumbered

Summary: The quest to save Julia begins, but not everything is as it seems in this mystical land.

Word Count: 1969

A/N: Hi friends! This is the second chapter of my Labyrinth King!Michael AU fic, "It's Only Forever." I'll link the first chapter down below. I hope that you enjoy and, as always, likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

(also there's a couple of little easter eggs/one big one and I'm really excited to see who figures them out)

Chapter One

Though you put your hands out in front of you to brace yourself, it doesn’t help you to discern which way is up and which way is down until you finally stop rolling. With a groan, you shove yourself up to your feet. Your palms are scraped and slightly bleeding, your jeans are torn at the knees, and leaves and twigs now adorn your hair. All in all, this is not the way you had hoped to start this mission to get Julia back.

Now that you’re already at the bottom of the hill, it’s easier to decide how to start this jaunt through the Labyrinth. After all, you certainly can’t go back up, and the solid ground beneath your feet only leads one way. The shining spires of Michael's castle at the center of the maze, closer than you had thought, rise high above you and act as a compass. All factors considered, you can definitely run this in a couple of hours. Then, once you’re both safely out of here, your first order of business is to call the cops.

Your confidence begins to fade the longer that you walk along with the wall separating you from the inside of the maze. There’s no door, or arch, or opening anywhere to be seen. Turning around, you look back to see if you’ve missed the entrance. Instead of finding one, movement catches your eye. A man, tall and willowy, cries out victoriously at something trapped under his foot. He seems to be your best bet, and you decide to approach him.

“Excuse me?” you say.

The man startles, obviously not expecting to see anybody here. “Oh!” he cries in surprise, looking at you as if you’re the first person to ever cross his path. His hair is bleached to look almost white, and he has a pair of oddly-shaped sunglasses with purple lenses covering his eyes. The checkered jumpsuit, complete with ruffles on the shoulders, both does and doesn’t go with the sunglasses. You’re not quite sure why the people that live here dress so funny, but it’s making you feel underdressed.

“Which way do I go to get into the Labyrinth?”

“Now, why would I tell you that?”

“Because you must have come from there,” you pause, looking down at the man’s foot when you hear a squeaking, “oh! Is that a fairy?”

“Mhm.” Your childlike wonder is abruptly swept out from under you when he kicks the small, blue creature into the forest.

“Why did you do that? That wasn’t very nice!”

“Go ahead and pick one up,” the man says, “you’ll see how nice they are when you’re missing a finger.” As if to prove his point, a fairy flies up to you and hisses in your face, showing off two rows of razor sharp teeth. “What is it that you wanted, again?”

You huff. “To know which way to go to get into the Labyrinth.”

“Did you try asking it?”

“I’m sorry, what?” You roll your eyes in disbelief before mocking him. “‘Labyrinth, please let me in!’ Is that what I should say?”

He doesn’t have to respond, for a sudden rumbling has you turning around. To your shock, there’s suddenly an open space in the wall that hadn’t been there just a second ago.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m Gallant.” You want to tell him that you weren’t guessing his name, you don’t even want to know his name, but he continues. “Who are you?”

“(Y/N).”

“Ah, that’s right.” So this is one of Michael’s ‘subjects?’ After all, if your dreams have been right (and you’re still half-convinced this is just the elaborate scheme of some unhinged weirdo and not magic, despite what you just saw), then that means that Michael is also the ruler of the Underworld. With that logic, Gallant must be some sort of a demon. If that’s the case, you certainly don’t want anything to do with him.

“Well,” you say awkwardly, “I’m going to go now. Running on limited time, and all that.”

“You’re just going to go in there? Alone?”

“Yep.”

“But--but the Labyrinth leads to the Labyrinth King!”

“That’s kind of the whole reason why I’m here.”

“You’re going to get hurt in there.” Gallant gasps. “You could even die in there!”

You set your shoulders, walking to the hole in the wall and glancing back. “I won’t, but thanks for the concern.”

“Wait!” Even if you did want to listen to what he had to say, you couldn’t, for the wall closes back up on itself the moment you step through it. Mildly jarred though you may be, there’s not much you can do to change this, so you turn around and try to figure out whether to go right or left. Both directions look exactly the same, so with the flip of a mental coin, you go right.

After both walking and jogging for what must have been over a mile, you’re no closer to any sort of landmark that would tell you where you are or how close you are to the castle. There haven’t even been any corners to turn past, just one long, unending aisle. You’re starting to feel a little claustrophobic as you finally come to a stop, needing to take a break for a minute. Sinking down against the wall into a sitting position, you find yourself looking back and forth down the path. Both directions look exactly the same, for as far as you can see. You groan dejectedly and put your head in your hands, allowing yourself a moment of pity before getting up and trying again.

“Hey there!”

You jump at the sudden Southern-sounding voice. “Who’s there?”

“Me, of course!”

Looking around, you see a small door just to your left, and a small woman, probably less than a foot tall, standing next to you. Her curly blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail, showing off her pointy ears. “And you’re...talking to me?”

“There’s nobody else around, is there?” The woman glances inside the open door. “‘Cept the missus, of course.”

Another woman, also blonde, pokes her head outside and smiles up at you. “Hello!”

“Why don’t ya come inside for a while? ‘Delia makes a killer gumbo.”

“Uh...no thanks. I’m just taking a break for a moment before I find a way to the castle.”

The woman’s face turns severe, and she holds her shawl tighter around herself. “You must be awfully brave if you’re so determined to go up there.”

Brave? You wouldn’t call yourself brave. Stupid, maybe, for bowing to the whims of the guy who’s kidnapped your charge, but not brave.

“But anyways, just go through the wall across from us and you’ll be on your way.”

You look in front of you to see the solid wall. “Through there?”

She nods.

Logic is telling you that this is obviously false, but, considering the same thing happened with Gallant, it can’t hurt to try. Standing up, you cautiously put your hand up to the wall, expecting to meet, well, a wall. Instead, you almost fall through a doorway that leads to another passage in the Labyrinth. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“You will be if you keep going.”

You choose to ignore this, at this point knowing that everybody who lives here is terrified of their ruler. “Thanks for the help.”

The elf stares at your back as you walk through the new corridor, figure becoming smaller and smaller. “If she would have stuck around, I would have been able to get her on the right track back home, not towards that horrible man.”

From inside the house, a timer beeps. “Misty, supper’s ready!”

///

In the stone chamber of the King of the Underworld’s throne room, a three year old girl is currently winning a staring contest against a demon. Michael watches as the demon’s eyes begin to water (with blood, of course), before he eventually gives in and blinks. The little girl cheers before looking at Michael.

“My daddy’s gonna kick your butt, you know. He saved mama from aliens once.”

“Silence, child,” Michael commands, but he can’t help the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. It’s difficult to hide his amusement when this child is the most lively thing to grace his castle since...well, he can’t quite remember since when.

Being surrounded by demons of all shapes and sizes, with a variety of horns or extra eyes or tails, gets old after a while. Demons, quite frankly, are a bore. All they want to do is scare people and cause mayhem, yet continue to use the same methods that have been in place for thousands of years. If Michael’s being honest with himself, everything’s a bore to him here. In the early years, this job had been quite fun. Lots of naive humans to terrify and endless souls to torture.

Michael himself had been prone to naivety, then. It was easy to deal with the buffoons that called themselves demons when it seemed that, soon enough, he would find somebody to share this burden with him. After all, it was the guy upstairs who believed that emotions were for the humans. Michael, however, found it to be one of the most carnal pleasures. To love, and to be loved, seemed like the greatest sin. As the years passed, and the whole routine of ruling the Underworld became stale, Michael began to embrace the feelings of dejection, while simultaneously dreading the thought of an eternity alone.

That’s why, no matter the outcome of tonight, Michael would at least have something to add a little color to his black-and-white world. At the very least, the child would provide much-needed entertainment in the Underworld. She seems quite creative, which could potentially lend itself to some new and innovative torture methods. But, that would almost be a non-starter, considering the whole reason that she’s here, the whole reason Michael implemented this plan in the first place, is to get to you.

You, who managed to somehow win over demons disguised as beggars that loitered outside of the bookstore you worked for. You, who was constantly coming up with your own ideas for stories, creating and erasing entire worlds within your mind (a power far more powerful than any regular magic, Michael believes). You, who had somehow managed to vex and enchant him, without ever having spoken a word to him. He had seen you on one of his visits up Above, talking to a beggar demon as if they were your equal, offering food and shelter to their grotesque form. From then on, he knew that he had to have you, and from that, a plan was born. The Labyrinth, which he had subtly placed in every single one of your dreams for months now, was impossible to run through. You would inevitably lose. And when that happens, he’s prepared to accept your frantic offer where you exchange yourself for the child. He is, after all, a benevolent ruler.

“Mr. Michael?” Julia questions, breaking Michael out of his pondering.

Michael hums, deciding that he won’t lecture her on the importance of referring to rulers by their titles. “Yes, little one?”

“Do you have juice here? ‘M thirsty.”

“Abaddon!” Michael calls, the demon appearing in a puff of smoke. “Get our guest some refreshments.”

The demon turns to do Michael’s bidding, shocked when Julia grabs their clawed hand and skips along with them. “I really like your spiky horns,” she says.

Michael looks up at the clock on the wall, noting that only nine hours remain for you to reach the center of the Labyrinth and rescue the child. Perfect. He’s not one to get too cocky (yes he is), but these are odds he’s willing to take.

Tag List (send me a message if you want to be on this!): @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @blakescoven @xavierplympton @michaellangdon @trelaney @ajokeformur-ray @babyloutattoo89 @bloodcoatedeclipse @threeminutesoflife @annikathebananana @wth-trippy @thatonehumanbeing05 @dumybitch

#labyrinth au #labyrinth imagine #labyrinth fanfiction #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagine #ahs #ahs imagine #duncan shepherd

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

Text

Tricksters

Summary: On a hot day, you decide to take a dip at a local secluded lake. When Arthur comes to join you, the two of you begin to have an interesting conversation before an untimely interruption.

Warnings: Swearing. nudity, and smut. Ya know, the norm.

Word Count: 7411

A/N: This is the first place prize from my 2k followers giveway! As requested by @lindleyjo, she wanted a creative way of how reader interacts with a younger Arthur.

Support your local content creators and reblog!

Heat.

A sweltering, heavy blanket of humidity settled upon the land after a powerful thunderstorm raged through the previous night. Everyone within camp had slept uncomfortably, tossing and turning in a desperate attempt to shake the crushing atmosphere. If you weren’t out in the open, you yourself would have stripped naked just to have a few hours of peaceful slumber.

With the morning sun peeking over the horizon, the camp’s sleepy members arose and began with the morning chores and duties. After getting dressed you wandered out into the open, observing your surroundings. Some of the women were already working on chores, scrubbing shirts or washing dishes from the night before with Susan Grimshaw at the helm. You paused once you saw her, knowing full well she’d put you to work the moment she realized you had nothing better to do.

You turned heel in the wet grass, hurrying toward the opposite side of camp in hopes to look busy. Toward the edge of camp were a few bags of feed strewn about, and a perfect way to keep yourself from Susan’s radar. You bent over to pick one up, nearly buckling as its awkward weight shifted upon you. Still, you’d managed to place it over your shoulder.

Just as you began to step forward, you heard someone call your name.

The feed sack blocked your view, though you recognized that voice instantly. Arthur Morgan. A young and otherwise cocky gang member and a favorite among Dutch and Hosea. Shuffling your feet to face him, he appeared in your view quicker than you’d expected.

“You, uh, need help with that?” he asked with a somewhat sheepish tone.

You smiled at him. He was always offering to help you with heftier tasks, even though you’ve told him multiple times you could handle it quite well. As boisterous as he was, he was always polite with you and the other women of the camp. Sometimes it seemed as if he gave you a little more attention, unless it was just your imagination. “I’ve got it, Arthur,” you assured him, shifting yet again as the feed inside began to weigh down uncomfortably. “Thank you.”

“Thought you’d say that,” he responded with a soft chuckle, bending down to grab another. “Thought I’d offer anyway.”

“I know,” you giggled, walking around the edge of camp to where the horses rested. “Truth is, I’m just avoiding being a wash maid today. Too hot for that.”

“So you opted for heavy liftin’,” Arthur remarked, stepping by you to place his bag upon a hay bale. The horses nickered excitedly at their arrival. “Don’t seem like it’d be any cooler.”

“As long as I look busy, then Susan won’t put me to work.” You pointed out, dumping your feed bag alongside his.

Arthur dusted his hands and snickered. “’S'pose that’s fair.”

You straightened up, catching his eye briefly. The summer sun reflected in his bright blue eyes, layering a golden hue amongst the oceanic orbs. He averted his gaze once it lasted a second too long. “Er, need anything else?”

You opened your mouth, only to be interrupted by someone calling Arthur’s name. It was Dutch Van der Linde himself. The two of you turned toward his gruff voice, noting the gang leader standing by his tent, standing casually with a lit cigar resting between his lips. Hosea stood next to him, looking on expectantly.

Arthur turned to look at you again. “Never mind, duty calls. See you later?”

Giving him a short nod, you bid him goodbye while he stalked off to join the two men. They were too far away for you to listen to their conversation properly, yet you caught wind Dutch had some grand scheme planned that required Arthur’s hand. A bank or stage coach robbery perhaps. You considered volunteering yourself to come along, the thought of big money was enough of an incentive to take your mind off the heat.

“Hey! Can I come along?” a new voice tore through your thoughts. High-pitched and gritty with the transition to manhood. You watched as John Marston came galloping up to the three men.

Dutch gave a hearty chuckle and reached out to ruffle John’s mop of hair. “Sorry son, just us three.”

“You’ll come along for the next one,” Hosea promised as John opened his mouth to protest. “It’s a small job, we don’t need an extra bodyguard.”

Arthur’s lips moved, most likely mumbling to himself. Whatever he said however, John’s face turned indignant. His body tensed like a predator about to spring on its prey. Hosea stepped in between the two immediately.

“Easy now,” he said with amusement, although gave Arthur a stern glare. “Don’t tease him, Arthur.”

Arthur only rolled his eyes and folded his arms. Since John had been brought in by Dutch and Hosea a few years ago, he and Arthur have almost always been at odds. Both headstrong in their own ways, they acted more like brothers; even when Arthur adamantly denied it. John was still young and immature, thus he’d stay in camp more often than not. He huffed and stormed off, grumbling to himself while Arthur just watched with a smirk on his face.

The three of them took their leave shortly after, saddling and mounting their horses before galloping away. You watched as they disappeared from view, sighing and turning to face camp once again. It was tempting to jump onto your own horse and follow; a wishful thought.

“Y/N!” Susan’s sharp voice pierced the air. “Get your butt over here and pick up a dish rag!”

You stifled a groan, knowing you were standing idle for just a little too long from your own volition. Before Susan could come over and ream your ass, you headed over and picked up an unused rag to help the others.

After a good hour of washing dishes and mending holes in jeans, you were free. You straightened up, stretching out your aching back and cracking your stiffened hands. Sweat pooled in uncomfortable places, soaking through awkward parts of your garments. Wiping a layer of sweat from your brow, you needed relief.

Stepping into the shade of the tree line, you breathed out a sigh. Though still humid, being away from direct sunlight certainly helped. Getting away also prevented Grimshaw from finding even more work for you to do. You leaned against a trunk and fanned yourself, wishing nothing more than to dip yourself in some cold water right now.

You paused, remembering there was a lake not too far away. You’d ridden by it a handful of times, saw a fisherman once or twice. Perhaps the heat was enough to drive away any unwanted eyes. With a plan in mind, you headed back to get your horse.

The woods provided some relief to your otherwise overheated state. Thick leaves and multiple branches allowed some cover from the sun. As you trotted along a small path, a slight breeze carried through, rustling the dense green shrubbery and provided a cooling sensation to your exposed skin. The lake wasn’t too far now, and you urged your horse into a lope in impatience. Up ahead, the canopy broke away to reveal a sheet of water gently disturbed by another breeze. Glimmering beautifully under the bright sun, the surface appeared inviting. The hard packed soil and bushes soon turned into a sandy beach. Gently pulling your mare to a halt, you dismounted and stepped onto the softly shifting terrain. Your gaze scanned the circumference of the lake, only stopping to find you were alone.

Perfect.

You tied your steed to a nearby tree before eagerly shedding your clothes. You made a home for them on the rocks to dry out the sweat before you padded toward the shore. Gentle waves lapped up toward you, kissing your toes with a near frosty sensation. One foot in front of another with a slow step, you were soon embraced from the waist up. The dramatic temperature difference was almost shocking at first, fine hairs raising along your skin. It only took a moment for your body to adjust, and you sunk in further. Wrapped in the soothing cold, you reached your arms out and began to swim.

A few minutes passed by of you lazily floating through the calm waters, relaxed and uncaring of the rest of the world. You were perfectly content in that moment, free of gritty chores and the judgmental or curious eyes of others. You could spend the entire day out here, as long as no one else would ruin your peace.

Time soon became lost to you amongst the calm surface, though you couldn’t care less. Being out here was much better than drowning in your own sweat back at camp.

A thought crossed your mind. You wondered if Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea returned from their heist, and if it went successfully. Your curiosity almost had you swimming to shore to find out.

Yet with the sun still high and the sky and the air still stifling, you didn’t want to move. You’d find out later anyway.

Amongst the distant sounds of nature, you caught the shrill whinny of your mare. You immediately turned your attention to her, the horse’s head high and ears pricked forward, facing the forest. She nickered into the trees. Something had caught her attention.

Seconds later, you could hear a responding whinny, further away and still out of sight. Your heart lurched and you ducked low, keeping your eyes an inch above the water to watch. With your gun and knife still on shore, you had no way to defend yourself.

Movement in the trees formed itself into a horse and its rider, stepping from the shady canopy into the open. It were as if the Gods heard your thoughts. The beautiful coat shimmering in the sunlight belonged to Boadicea, and Arthur’s prominent face hidden under the brim of his hat. The two mares nickered to each other in greeting.

Relief flooded through you as you watched Arthur look at your horse, then glance left and right in confusion. You had to make yourself known now, lest he thought you were in trouble or worse. He hadn’t spotted your clothes yet. Despite your nudity, it didn’t bother you to be this way in his presence. With how long you’ve been a part of the gang, you’ve been around him in your undergarments multiple times. You were comfortable enough around him to know he wouldn’t attempt anything crass.

Pulling yourself up to just above chest level, you called out, “Arthur!”

His head shot up to the sound of your voice. “Y/N? Whatchoo doin’ out here?”

“Cooling off,” you responded, swimming closer to him. “What about you?”

The closer you got, you began to realize he was splattered in blood. Though the majority of it painted his vest and pants, you noticed patterns streaking across his exposed forearms, neck, and face. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see, knowing how dangerous this lifestyle was.

This tugged at your mind. Had he gotten injured in any way? “Are you hurt?” you ask.

“Er,” his gaze swept across the shore, and finally landed on the rock which your clothes lay upon. Eyes growing wide, you could see the rosy tint in his cheeks as he looked away. Clearing his throat, he answered, “Blood ain’t mine. Actually, I was gonna come wash up out here, since I can’t exactly go back to town n’ do it… Guess this lake’s already occupied.” He tucked his head down sheepishly.

His answer allowed you to smile in relief. Though you understood his reasoning to come out here, he was one of the few you wouldn’t mind sharing this space with. No reason to force him to go elsewhere. “No it ain’t,” you responded. “There’s plenty of room for the both of us.”

“N-no, you ain’t even decent,” he stammered, biting his lip from underneath the brim of his hat. “I’ll just go –”

“Arthur,” you interjected. “It’s fine, I promise. It’s a big lake, not like we��ll be on top of one another. I don’t care.”

He refused to look at you directly, instead cast his attention across the lake in deep thought. A full moment passed before he sighed and dismounted Boadicea. “Guess I can’t really argue that…” he murmured. “Can you jus’…turn ‘round please?”

You nodded, smiling a little at his modesty. Turning yourself around and swimming further out, you waited until you heard him stepping into the water before facing him again.

He stood in waist deep water, arms held to the front of his body. The somewhat clear water was dark enough for you not to see below his navel. You’d only seen Arthur shirtless a handful of times, and each moment of stolen subtle glances you appreciated more than the last. He was certainly built nicely, his frame decorated with just the right amount of muscle.

“Don’t stare please,” he mumbled.

You abided to his wish, instead swimming a little further out with only your head above the surface. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him beginning to bathe himself, albeit awkwardly. You had to wonder how often he would have a bath girl do the work for him. Or perhaps it was your presence skewing him? Arthur was usually arrogant and carried himself with confidence, without a care in the world of who thought what of him. It was only in the presence of those close to him did he show a different side, and you were no exception.

After a few moments of silence, the questions from earlier arose in your mind. Maybe it would be less awkward for him if you were to initiate some casual conversation. Shifting to cast a glance his way, you called out. “So how’d the job go?”

He avoided your eyes, keeping his fixated on his forearms, running his hands along to remove the stains. The water soon tinged crimson with blood pooling around him. He hesitated for a moment. “Pretty good, actually. We made out with two thousand dollars.”

Two thousand? That certainly was much more than you were expecting to hear. Out of every heist you’ve done, you’d never made it out with more than a couple hundred. “You must be pretty happy with yourself then.”

His eyes flickered to you for a brief second. “Yeah,” he agreed with a slight chuckle. “Was much more too, only had a short time to gather what we could ‘fore the law came down on us.”

“That’s a shame,” you commented. “Sounds like you needed an extra hand after all.” You remembered that little conversation John had with them.

He turned his full attention to you now, however still avoided looking at your face. “John’s too young n’ headstrong for bigger jobs right now.” He said pointedly.

“I meant me. I was gonna volunteer myself until I saw Dutch deny John.”

Arthur blinked in surprise. “Oh, uh…why didn’t ya anyway?”

You shrugged, leaning back a little to stare at the sky. “I figured he’d say no anyway. And I know you three are perfectly capable without an extra hand.”

He hummed softly in response. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “I don’t think he’d say no. I woulda vouched for ya anyway.”

You smiled at his comment, lifting your head to look at him again. “Thanks, but I’m sure John would have been pissed if he heard that.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, he’s still a kid. He’d get over it.”

“True,” you agreed with a giggle of your own. “Think we would have gotten away with more if I’d come along?”

Arthur gave you a crooked smile. “I think we’d get away with everything they had if you’d come along.”

You couldn’t deny that. Almost every job you’d attended ended in a successful plunder, thus earning praise from everyone in camp. You took pride in your skill even though you didn’t boast it. Dutch and Hosea saw you as one of the most productive members of the gang, of course they would have been happy for you to come along. You reminded yourself to volunteer next time despite what little Johnny Marston thought. “Guess I’ll volunteer next time, since you boys obviously need my help.” You smirked.

Arthur scoffed in response. “Hey now, that was uncalled for.” He laughed, sinking further to almost shoulder height.

You smiled at him, daring to swim a little closer. “It’s true, ya know. Pretty sure any of those other heists wouldn’t have gone as smooth if I hadn’t been there.” You commented jokingly.

“You sayin’ we ain’t as good?” Arthur asked with a quirked eyebrow, although he couldn’t hide the amusement plain on his face.

“I’m saying that some things need a woman’s touch, even robbing.” You teased, grinning widely at him.

He rolled his eyes, stretching his arms out to propel himself slowly through the water. “Think I changed my mind, with talk like that.”

It was your turn to scoff. You knew he was only fooling with you, though while he was distracted, you took a chance to raise your arm up and splash a bit of water in his direction. Splattering across his face and head, he yelped in surprise and flinched away, raising his arms in defense.

“Damnit, Y/N!” he huffed, wiping his face of the droplets. “The hell was that for?”

You chortled in response, swinging your arms behind you to swim further away. “Don’t be angry, you’re already wet!”

Despite a prick of annoyance shadowing his features, the way his lips curled into a smile told you he certainly wasn’t completely irritated. The furrow in his brow relaxed before he spoke, “You better be careful, next time I won’t be so forgivin’.”

You paused to look at him. “Oh, that’s some big talk, Arthur Morgan!” you exclaimed, changing your direction to swim toward him once again. You stopped just a few feet away, the closest you’ve gotten so far. Shooting him a smirk, you continued, “What would the scary outlaw do to me?”

“Somethin’ not nice,” he answered, the smile never leaving his face. “Don’t think you wanna find out.”

Those words posed a challenge. As childish as this was, you weren’t going to deny yourself a little bit of fun for the time being. The two of you were still shoulder height above the water. With his wide frame and thick torso, he could have easily outmatched you on solid ground.

You launched yourself forward, throwing your hands out to slap them onto his shoulders. With a swift kick to propel your body further, it provided you with enough strength to shove him completely beneath the surface. His eyes widened in surprise and terror before his face was engulfed by the somewhat turbid lake. Immediately you yanked your hands away, spinning around as fast as the weight of the water would allow. Paddling quickly away from him, the sound of splashing and spluttering filling your ears. It would only be a matter of time before he caught up to you.

Hurrying toward the shore, his nearly beastly roar soon carried across the lake. He called out your name, and you didn’t dare to look back. He was growing closer, faster than you could reach the shallows. In a few short seconds, he was on you. Thick arms wrapping around your torso and stopping you in your tracks. You squealed out in surprise, automatically wanting to break free of his embrace. Though your struggle proved useless as he was far too strong.

“Arthur!” you cried out, voice shuddering with laughter. “C’mon, lemme go!”

“Ya pushed me, woman,” he growled in your ear. “Think I’d let ya get away with that?”

You still tried to wriggle from his grasp, only further proving it as a fruitless effort. “Was worth a shot!” you said proudly, smiling widely.

Expecting him to serve the same fate, you shut your eyes and waited for the inevitable cold grip of the water to engulf you completely. His hands grazed across your abdomen, halting at the curves of your waistline. He paused there, prompting your curiosity.

“Arthur?”

A mere second passed and the warmth of him disappeared. Waves shifted around you in the absence of him, and you turned in confusion. He had his back facing you.

“Arthur? What’s wrong?” You inquired.

“Weren’t right for me to do that,” he answered quietly. “‘M sorry.”

You frowned in confusion. Just moments ago the two of you were playing like two kids uncaring of the world. “You didn’t scare me if that’s what you meant.”

“No,” he said flatly. “The way I grabbed ya. You’re naked, weren’t proper. Stupid o’ me…”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. The awareness had flung out the instant you began your tomfoolery, and even now you didn’t even care. “So what?” You scoff. “Nothing happened.”

“Still ain’t right,” he grumbled, moving closer to the shore. “I shouldn’ta –“

“Arthur,” your tone sharp. “We were playing around. I don’t care if I’m clothed or not, it didn’t bother me.”

He mumbled something you couldn’t hear. There was something else on his mind. In shallower waters, more of his torso was visible, streams of water cascading down his strong back, shining beautifully in the sunlight. Your breath nearly caught at the sight, but the minor distraction hadn’t removed your original intention.

“Arthur!” You called out. “Don’t leave yet!”

He froze in place.

“Talk to me, please. What’s really wrong?”

He hadn’t uttered a single word for a full minute. He breathed in again. “Don’t matter, Y/N. Sorry for bein’ handsy with you, I shoulda known better.”

He was lying. You knew him well enough by now. You sighed heavily and stood up completely, allowing your upper torso exposed to the air. Moving a little closer, you said softly, “look at me.”

You half expected him to be stubborn and walk away. Instead, he slowly turned, his eyes fixed away from your figure. Your heart began to hammer wildly in your chest. It hadn’t been too long since your state had been graced by a man’s presence. You were confident enough to not feel shy about yourself.

Especially not around Arthur.

His eyes slowly raked up your body, finally meeting your patient gaze.

Taking another deep breath, you murmured to him, “Talk to me.”

He swallowed audibly. “It ain’t important –”

“Don’t give me that. Tell me what’s wrong please,” you interjected. “Whatever it is, I won’t be mad.”

He appeared conflicted, chewing on his bottom lip in hesitation and tearing his eyes away. “It’s, uh…” he gritted his teeth and swore to himself. “Damn it, Morgan!” He ran his hand through his damp hair in what seemed to be frustration. “It’s you.” He finally uttered.

“Me?” You repeated in confusion. “What’s wrong with me?”

“No, nothin’ ain’t wrong with you, it’s…” he trailed off, becoming more flustered with each passing second. “I…I like you, Y/N.”

Out of everything in the world, it was a confession you hadn’t expected to hear. Blood roared in your ears as your heart did somersaults beneath your ribs. Arthur Morgan, liking you? Words couldn’t formulate in your mind as everything you wanted to say disappeared just as quickly as they appeared. You wanted to say something, anything, a simple response to accommodate for your lack of reaction.

He must’ve taken your silence negatively. A deep frown appeared on his face and his head hung in defeat. As he began to turn away, your hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He stopped at an instant, slowly lifting his head to stare into your eyes once again.

His eyes. A beautiful blue-green hue twinkling brilliantly from the sunny reflection of the lake. You observed every feature of his face, from his thick sandy colored hair, down to his chiseled, stubbled jaw. Truly such a stubborn, ruthless beast who would land a bullet between a man’s eyes only to turn around and offer you help, and dance with you on cheerful occasions. Too many days you spent admiring him from afar. Too many nights spent in crowded saloons, picking up some random cowboy to swoon and come back not completely satisfied and wishing someone else would share that hotel bed with you. Too much time wasted attempting to deny your ever growing feelings for this man.

You would never admit it out loud that Arthur Morgan had your heart, long before he even knew it.

Your lips curved into a soft smile. Sliding your hand to capture his, you sensed his hesitation when you entwined his fingers with yours. “I don’t see that as a problem.” You whispered to him.

A slew of emotion flitted through his eyes in a long-lasting moment. His lips parted in attempts to speak, only to hear him release a disjointed breath. “It is,” he said sadly.

“Why?” you pressed.

“Mary.”

Mary. That one name that plagued your dreams for far too long. Arthur had been head over heels for this high society woman who frowned upon his lifestyle. She was polite every time you’d come across her, yet you saw clearly through her façade. How difficult it was to keep your mouth shut every time she peered at you with thinly veiled judgment. “Fuck Mary,” You spat it as if reciting the vilest of curses. He stared at you in surprise. “How long has it been, Arthur? Since she left you?”

“Uh, a few months…” he mumbled.

“A few months,” you repeated. “You hold no obligation over her anymore, Arthur. She’s gone. And I’m here now.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed heavily, dipping his head yet again. “It’s stupid o’ me to even keep thinkin’ ‘bout her. Every time I’ve tried tellin’ ya, I get stuck on her. It’s jus’ hard… I don’t wanna have her on my mind no more.”

The conflict hung heavy in his voice. You couldn’t be angry with him over this; he loved Mary for reasons you could never fathom. She left him to be wed and bound to live the life she dreamed, a decision that wounded Arthur deeper than any gunshot or stab of a knife.

With your free hand, you reached up to caress his jaw, prompting him to look at you. “Then let me help you forget,” you uttered.

He blinked in silence, his eyes never leaving yours. Seconds ticked by as you watched every inner thought of his displayed plain on his face. You were worried he’d refuse, until he gave a small, simple nod.

That was all you needed. Trapping his face gently between your palms, you tilted your head up, pulling yourself closer to lay a tender kiss upon his lips. A brief moment of tension felt soon released when he melted to you, kissing you with equally returned tenderness.

He relaxed completely to your touch. Large hands made their presence upon your hips, so loosely held against your bare skin. You encouraged him by taking one step closer. The heat radiating from his body negated the cool waters surrounding you. He moved to rest his palms upon your lower back, ever so hesitant to further progress. Releasing his face to favor his neck, your arms latched to him to pull your body flush with his.

Arthur’s breath hitched, his grip tightening in reaction. He parted his lips from yours, peering into your eyes. A sweet softness reflected in his, though below the seafoam surface lurked a deeper musing.

“Been wantin’ to do that,” he murmured to you. “Guess I’m too foolish to make myself wait for so long. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head in disagreement. “I don’t think you’re foolish, you’re just too stubborn to realize your own feelings.”

He gave a singular laugh, a short and deep chortle that pulsed against your chest. “I s’pose you’re right, guess I got some catchin’ up to do.”

With a hum of response, you carded your fingers through his hair. “You’ve got all the time in the world with me, Arthur Morgan. And we’re here now, just the two of us.”

A half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. One hand released your waistline to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. Wordlessly he drew you in for a second kiss. Moving his hand to the back of your head, his fingers tangled within your locks.

Despite his large frame, he held a certain tenderness unlike any other man you’d been with. A lack of urgency and force to indulge in a lustful night. Every blissful moment here you wanted to last forever, remaining in this lake and far from any civilization.

The kiss soon deepened, easing your tongue to invade him. He allowed you to, following your lead without a moment of hesitation. His arm encircled your waist completely, pinning you to him without excessive strength. Every subtle movement allowed you to appreciate him more and more, handling you like precious cargo rather than a sack of feed.

Fingertips thickened with callouses traced patterns along your back, a touch so feather soft your skin tingled in his wake. Trailing toward your butt beneath the surface, ghosting ever so slightly across the crest. You hadn’t been surprised by this at all. Sensing a small tinge of hesitation, you offered subtle encouragement with your own touch. Smoothing your palm along his muscular shoulder, trailing your fingers down his arm, pausing to gently grip his wrist.

He pulled his head back to look at you, a look of shame crossing his face and his mouth agape in the beginnings of what you assumed was an apology.

You however just smiled, moving his hand to rest against the curve of your butt. You watched as his eyes widened in surprise, sputtering out incomprehensible noise while his face began to show a hue of fuchsia.

Hushing him gently with a finger to his lips, you rubbed his arm soothingly. He was after all still a man, and why deny those thoughts lurking below his otherwise respectful nature? “Touch where you’d like.” You whispered to him.

An audible gulp emanated from his throat, his gaze sweeping over your face as if searching for any notion of disapproval or repulsion. When finding none, he uttered, “You sure?”

Giving a small nod, your other hand rested against his chest, running a single digit across the ridge of his collarbone. “I trust you.”

Reluctance still hinted in his face as he considered your words. His lips twitched as if to say something, though not a single sound came out. You waited quietly to see what his next move would be.

And then you felt it. The beginnings of a light caress as his palm rubbed your smooth skin. Nails scraped along the surface in a small, experimental squeeze. You giggled softly and smiled even wider, running your own hand down the midline of his chest. Admiring him from afar paled in comparison to right now, appreciating every hardened muscle you once only dreamed of holding.

The soft grip on your head disappeared entirely as the rough skin of his other hand moved slowly down your back and rested at the dip of your waist. His eyes flickered downward for a fraction of a second, taking in the plain sight of your naked breasts before looking back to you. Giving him a small nod, he moved from your waist, trailing his fingertips along the front of your torso. Carefully, he fondled one, his eyes never leaving your face. With slow progression his confidence began to grow, and you moaned encouragingly for him to continue. A delicate massage accompanied by his thumb teasing your nipple, he smiled.

“You feel so soft…” he murmured to you.

You hummed in response, thoroughly enjoying this moment. You weren’t sure how far this would go, though his touch was prompting you to explore further. From his chest down to his abdomen, enjoying every swell and plane decorating his frame, you dipped your hand beneath the surface. He tensed once you reached below his navel, although did not offer any notion of backing away. Your eyes met his, unblinking and waiting.

And so you continued further. The heat of his arousal was a stark contrast to the cool liquid surrounding him. Your fingers traced along the soft skin, observing every inch with growing interest. From the tip to the root, your hand turned to rest your palm on his hardened length. Wrapping your entire hand around it you found him to be blessed with girth.

One pump, and another, as smooth as the water would allow. Arthur’s hold on you loosened as a low moan slid from his lips. A simple sign for you to continue, thus you did. Watching his eyelids flutter and his head tilt back, a small smirk tweaked the corner of your mouth. He was soon malleable in your capable hands, his entire figure relaxing for you.

Leaning in to him, you cupped his neck and pressed your lips to his damp skin, leaving light kisses along the junction of his shoulder. His breathing heightened accompanied by a disjointed sound of surprise and pleasure. He spoke your name in a soft, low groan.

“Yes?” you answered him.

“I –” he paused, his hands returning to your body, running his fingers tantalizingly along your curves. “I wanna have you.”

Those words, the sincerity laced within them threw your heart into an erratic rhythm. Surely this was your imagination, your mind baked from being in the heat and sun for far too long. “Really? Here?” you asked quietly.

He nodded. “Like you said, we’re here now,” He replied with what you’d said to him earlier. “Might as well make the most of it, ‘less you don’t want to.”

The mere thought stoked the already smoldering embers within you, curling into a small fire. You bit your lip, weighing your considerations. Your body yearned for him; the pressure deep in your belly too incessant to ignore. Would it be worth it to wait until the two of you found a hotel to stay in, or an abandoned cabin to avoid any unwanted eyes?

However, the lakeside had been quiet for as long as you both had been out here. As unorthodox as it was, the thought of giving to your primal desires within the arms of nature’s embrace seemed invigorating. Staring deep into his awaiting eyes, you finally murmured, “Yes.”

As soon as the word passed your lips, he drew you in for another kiss. Deep and urgent, his tongue hadn’t hesitated to dance with yours. His touch grew fervent, sweeping across every curve and swell your body had to offer. One hand gravitated to your breasts, toying with each and drawing out a few muffled moans from you, while the other snaked further down. Like your own endeavor, he didn’t have trouble finding his target. Warm pads searched your folds briefly until resting upon that little bundle of nerves, creating small circles amongst your sensitive flesh. In turn, the grip you had on his cock hastened. Short and heavy breaths pierced the air as he pulled back, muttering out a swear.

Arthur’s movements soon became erratic, his fingers dancing feverishly against your nub. It didn’t take long for the fire to erupt into a blazing inferno, coiling stronger and tighter with each passing second. You panted out his name, gripping his shoulder for support as pleasure rolled through your body. Eagerly he moved to your entrance, testing it briefly before sinking two digits in. You weren’t sure if you were truly that wet or if the water aided his entry, but the thought quickly swept from your mind the moment he pumped his fingers in and out. You could have melted then and there if he wasn’t supporting you.

Closing your eyes, your mind soon became too addled to focus. The pressure within your core bubbled and threatened to burst. Your head tilted back and moaned your pleasure to the heavens, the fleeting arrival of your climax exploding through every inch of your body. Nails melded into flesh as he coaxed the final waves from you, your lips gasping out his name.

“Arthur…” you groaned, your heart racing. “My God, you know your way with a woman.”

“That surprise you?” he asked with a proud smirk.

Your prickling curiosity as to how far he went with Mary was not something you wanted to delve further into, yet Arthur was a young and handsome man. You’d witnessed him catch the eye of willful saloon women more than once. His handle on you lacked the clumsy and blunt nature of a virgin. “How about you show me further?” you prompted, your hand still resting against his length. Trailing your fingernails along the underside, you watched as his entire body shuddered.

“Mm, gladly…” he growled to you, moving his hands to grip your thighs. Without hesitation you wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms following suit to his neck. He seemingly had no issue supporting your weight, wading through the water until your back rested against a warm, gritty surface. He’d placed you on a rock, and soon released you to straighten up, peering at you with a gleam in his eye. “Turn ‘round.”

You listened without hesitation, immediately understanding what he wanted. Sinking partly back into the water, you turned away from him and bent over, swaying your hips at him. A growl of satisfaction rumbled from him, his rough hands taking place on your hips. The heat of his arousal pressed against the divide of your ass, rubbing it along your soft skin.

Soon he honed in for your lower lips, prodding your entrance once before pushing his way in. You gasped; the pressure surprising at first. His girth stood true, expanding your inner walls further than you anticipated. Hips flush with your butt, he pulled back and drove into you, erasing any prior thoughts from your mind. The pressure was soon replaced with pleasure provided by his unrelenting thrusts.

Swearing out loud, your fingers scrambled on the rock to ground yourself. He was not offering any leeway, using you to his advantage. His grip was tight, deep enough to definitely leave bruises. He groaned and growled, whispering how well you were taking him.

Such talk wasn’t foreign to you, yet hearing it from Arthur created a new thrill. You arched your back for him, allowing nature to hear your song. The subtle change of angle brought a greater difference, allowing the tip of his cock to drag along that spot.

You gasped out his name, your eyes rolling as another coil of fire burned with fury within you. It wouldn’t be much longer until he ripped a second climax from you. Still you clung to that rock as if for dear life while he took every inch. His speed and precision were pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

“Shit,” he grunted, voice wavering from his movement. His fingers made their presence known between your legs, rubbing you with vigor. “C’mon, girl,” he coaxed in that lovely baritone voice. “Give it to me.”

Oh Lord, how could you not give to him? That last command was all you needed to bend to his whim. Much more explosive than the first, your legs trembled and your back arched even more as it overtook every part of your body. Every being within the immediate area knew his name, you calling it out like a prayer.

With a noise of satisfaction he gripped your hips again, driving himself even faster, milking your orgasm of every last drop. A string of expletives fell from your mouth. “Arthur – fuck!” you huffed, attempting to halt the trembling overtaking your muscles. You stiffened against the rock, your skin catching somewhat uncomfortably though you didn’t care at that moment. Your eyes rolled from the sky to the trees to the shore, though focusing on nothing.

Until something caught your eye. Something along the sandy terrain that wasn’t there before. You blinked, ripping yourself back to clarity. Searching for it again, your gaze landed on it directly. A person standing just yards away, fixated on the two of you. It only took half a second to realize it was John Marston.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Where the hell did he come from? “Arthur –” you grunted, mustering up as much breath as you could despite him pounding into you. “Arthur, stop!”

He halted immediately. “Wh-what’s wrong?” he breathlessly asked.

“Someone’s watching.” You hissed, your head twitching toward the shore.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his face twist in confusion. He followed your line of sight and the bewilderment was quickly swept away with surprise. “Marston?” he pulled out of you immediately. “What the hell –”

You hid yourself better behind the rock. Turning your head, you looked just in time to see a conniving grin spread across John’s face. He turned and grabbed a pile of clothes – Arthur’s – off the ground. “Payback, Morgan!”

As the teen darted towards the trees, Arthur’s growl of anger sounded over you, followed by the splashing of water. You watched as Arthur stormed toward the shore, attempting to go as fast as he could. “Get back here, damnit!” he roared, finally reaching solid ground. Butt naked and his wet skin shining in the sun, he briefly stopped to yank his boots on before sprinting after John, who had disappeared amongst the shrubs already.

Arthur soon also disappeared into the woods, his shouts soon becoming muffled by the thick canopy above. John’s laughter grew further away. You waited, listening to their voices growing more distant. You pondered whether or not to try and help, but two naked people running through the woods certainly wouldn’t remedy the situation, and getting dressed would just waste time.

John hadn’t touched your clothes, only Arthur’s. Perhaps the young teenager was putting revenge over whatever Arthur said to him earlier. Typical sibling behavior as it were, you thought with a small smirk to yourself.

A few more minutes ticked by while you were wrapped in silence. You hadn’t heard either of them, and wondered how far John got, or if Arthur managed to catch up to him. Your unasked question was answered when the rustling of leaves and branches caught your attention. The sharp crunch of boots snapping twigs soon revealed Arthur, disgruntled and still very nude, though his body was peppered with forest debris.

You had to admit, as good as he looked, the sight of his defeated face and in nothing but his boots was quite amusing.

“What’re you smilin’ at?” He grumbled as he made his way to the water, kicking his boots off with unneeded force.

You started to giggle, standing straight to gesture to him as a whole. “Never thought I’d see Arthur Morgan running after a kid, stark naked!”

The scowl he gave you was heated, though didn’t faze your ever growing laughter. “Yeah well, don’t get used to it.” He huffed, breaking the surface to slide back in.

“Couldn’t catch him huh?” You chuckled.

He sighed heavily. “Lil’ shit got to the road. I had to stop chasin’ him or else give an unwanted show to some passin’ stagecoaches.”

That only prompted a harder laugh. “What, I’m sure someone aboard them would’ve appreciated it!”

With a scoff, Arthur sank further into the water, attempting to wash the debris from his body. “Now I’m stuck here without clothes. How am I gonna get back to camp without people seein’ me like this?”

The mere thought of it brought even more amusement to you. Arthur trying to sneak into camp, probably holding his hat over himself in attempts to cling to a shred of his dignity. No one in camp would let him live that down.

“Well, John didn’t steal my clothes,” you pointed out, gesturing toward the rock where your garments still lay out. “I can run back and grab yours, if you want.”

“Like I got a choice,” he mumbled dejectedly. “Jus’ hurry, will ya?”

“Sure,” you say, making your way to land and stepping out into the hot air once again. “Can’t let anyone see big bad Arthur Morgan stuck out here in his natural state!” you cackled.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #young Arthur Morgan #trying something new to add flair to my posts

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