#so he just sticks his nose in the air and denies everything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mountsverse · 6 months

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you can hear it in the silence

summary: you and mason are best friends, but he finds you heartbroken and can't contain his true feelings for you any longer.

word count: 2k

notes: this is unedited i'm so sorry, hope it's not too bad... masterlist here

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pushing open the door to your apartment, you uncaringly dropped your handbag on the floor. audibly groaning, you stepped out of your heals and shut your door behind you. after a long night of arguing, and evident tears, you wiped an eye with the back of your hand. you had been seeing a guy, much to the dismay of your best friend mason, and tonight had been the tipping point. he had shown up to your date in a sour mood, creating tension so thick you had just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. deciding to take the high route, not wanting to perpetuate his already bad mood, and completely ruin your own, you remained silent. you sat through dinner, hours of mumbled conversation and poking at your food. the night was mostly tame until he had decided he'd had enough, asking you why you, had been in a bad mood. confusion filled your features as you explained that it had been him who had put a damper on the night. all he'd down was dismiss you, his mind set on the fact that he had done nothing wrong. when he mentioned your best friend, you were shocked.

"is this because of mason?" he demanded, "i know he doesn't like me, but he could mind his business every now and again?... he likes to stick his nose in it, doesn't he?"

you swallowed, completely in disbelief that mason's name had made it into your argument. "this has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you!" you felt a sudden need to defend him, "and leave him out of it, don't talk about him like that," you spoke back, hands balled into small fists at your sides.

your boyfriend scoffed, "oh please! everyone with eyes see's the way he looks at you! anyone would be plain stupid to think he doesn't want a taste!"

jaw dropped, you stood up, pushing your seat away from the table as you gathered your bag, "fuck you! that's a real nice way of talking about your girlfriend," your eyes tickled with tears before you added, "forget it, we're done," you spat before tearing a couple of notes out of your purse and placing them on the table. turning from him, you angrily walked out of the restaurant.

once the cold manchester breeze hit you, you regretted coming outside. you hated living in the uk during the colder months, you could hardly handle it.

"fucks sake," you muttered, the warmth of your breath visible in the cold air, creating a faint fog as you spoke. fumbling around in your bag until you finally secured your car keys, a couple of tears spilled from your eyes as your finally unlocked your car and jumped into the drivers seat, so desperate to get home.

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the whole way home, your phone buzzed, receiving texts from numerous friends, and mason. you had told him you were going out tonight, and thus, he was checking in to make sure you had gotten home safe and sound.

you ignored all the texts, and the couple of calls mason had tried to make. scrubbing off your face of makeup, and putting your hair in a horrible attempt of a messy bun, you stumbled over to bed, ready to forget the events of the day and move on tomorrow. you knew as soon as you allowed yourself a minute to think, you'd be a puddle of tears. it's not like you and your boyfriend were anything serious, but you weren't a girl that was nonchalant with her feelings. you wouldn't lie and say you weren't devastated about the events of the night and the sudden and extremely unexpected breakup. it hurt, and you wouldn't deny that. especially not to mason, who you knew would poke and prod at you before you spilled every single detail about your night from hell.

just as you were about to get into your inviting sheets, you heard a knock on your door. you flinched, partly afraid your boyfriend had shown up in an attempt to hash things out.

you froze, not moving from your room, hoping whoever was knocking would get the hint and go away.

"come on, i know you're in there..." you could barely hear his words, but they hit you like a slap in the face. "open up," he added, his voice sounded gruff and tired.

you let out a deep breath, walking over to your apartment door with heavy feet. reluctantly, you placed a hand over the handle and twisted it open.

when the door swung inward, mason was in the middle of knocking, his fist just about to tap on the door once more. only then, did you register his features. he looked exhausted, which worried you because today was one of his only days off in a week. he hadn't had training, but maybe he'd had a long day too?

"mason, what are you-" you continued taking him in, looking over him for anything peculiar. "what are you doing here? are you alright?" you asked, concerned. as your stepped out of the doorway, you welcomed him into your apartment.

mason stepped in, following your direction. you quietly closed the door behind, cautious of the fact that it was getting late.

"thought i was gonna have to stand out there forever," he groaned, his shoulders sagging in relief, however that was short lived when he refocused his attention on you. "what are you doing?" his english accent coming through strong, "not answering my texts?" he raked a hand through his hair, something it looked like he was doing all night based on the state of his brown locks, "and my calls!" he added.

"i-" you choked, "i'm sorry, mase," you said quietly, "i was just really tired, okay? i just wanted to get home and get to sleep," you explained, gesturing at your pyjamas, in comparison to mason who was fully dressed.

"too tired to type? come on! you know that sounds so stupid," he said, a sarcastic chuckle escaping his lips. "i was worried, y/n" mason added, his voice more tender as his eyes scanned you, checking for any signs that you were lying about just being tired.

you groaned, annoyed, "well you don't need to be! no one needs to worry about me, okay?" your fists once again balled at the sides of your body.

mason matched your annoyance, clearly not happy that you had been ignoring him all night. "how can i not worry when i knew you were supposed to be going out with that moron?" he scoffed, "you know none of us trust him," he referenced the opinions of your shared friends, "so god forbid i got worried when you didn't reply for hours when you're supposed to be with him..." he trailed off, angry.

your hands remained balled into fists, you looked up at mason who was easily a good few inches taller than you. "well thank fuck that it's over then, huh?" you shrugged, feigning indifference. "no one will need to worry about him again, because it's over, we're over... you lot can throw a party if you'd like," you flailed your hands in the air dismissively.

the corners of your eyes stung with tears, and a sense of embarrassment swirled in your chest. "are you happy now, mason?" you shrugged helplessly.

"what?" he asked, dumbfounded, confusion written all over his face.

"i said, are you happy, mason?" you repeated.

"no, before that... what did you say?" he clarified.

"i broke up with him," you said quietly, eyes refusing to settle on him, wandering around the room.

mason was silent. he didn't know what to say to you, in all honesty he wanted to pick you up and twirl you around the room in happiness. but he knew he couldn't do that, it was insensitive for one, and also inappropriate. he struggled to find a response, the words drying in his throat.

"really?" he asked, his voice raw.

"yes. okay?" a couple of tears fell from your eyes, "so you can go now, alright?... there's nothing to worry about," you spat, wanting him to leave, so he wouldn't witness the way you were about to fall apart in a heap of tears and embarrassment.

"i'm-" he gulped, "i'm not going anywhere, y/n," he said sternly, "stop telling me to go," he demanded.

"why not? you all got what you wanted, the show's over," you spoke softly, the tears flowing freely now as you tried to swat them away with your palms.

mason closed the gap between the two of you, his hands froze between you as he reached out to touch you. he chewed the inside of his cheek, nervously. "i'm so sorry," he began, a hand darting out to tuck a tuff of your hair behind your ear. "i had no idea... believe me, or-" he choked, clearing his throat before continuing, "i wouldn't have come here, all worked up," he clarified, continuing to tidy up your hair, pushing it away from your face.

you closed the remaining space between the two of you, your arms reaching out to wrap around his torso, as the tears spilled from your eyes.

"we don't have to talk about it..." he said quietly, a string of swear words escaping his lips. "he's such an arsehole, you know that?" he said, his tone firm.

you held onto mason tightly, resting your cheek against his chest. you gently nodded your head in agreement. "i was stupid for thinking he was anything but an arsehole," you hiccuped, one of your hands trying desperately to rid your cheeks of the tears you'd cried.

mason shook his head, dismissing your comment, "no more crying," mason glanced down at you, and he could've sworn he felt his heart crack at the sight, "i don't wanna see your tears," he said softly into your hair, before muttering something you failed to catch.

"what?" you asked him, as you couldn't hear what he had said.

"if it was me, i'd make sure you'd never shed a single tear... unless it was a happy one," he spoke, unsure if you would be able to hear it this time.

"mason..." his name caught in your throat, as the severity of his words hit you.

"shhhh" he hushed you, a hand stroking your hair as he continued "you know i worship the ground you walk on," he whispered.

your tears had stopped and the only sound breaking the silence between the two of you was your soft breathing.

"what are you talking about?" you finally asked him.

"you know what i'm saying, y/n. if you were mine... i could- i would," he confirmed, "treat you so much better," he spoke.

"where is this coming from?" you asked quietly, looking up at him, searching his eyes for the truth.

"it's not coming from anywhere, it's always been here..." he replied, looking down at you. "i waited for you..." he said softly, "i've let you do your own thing, and i admit i've been a coward," he explained.

one of mason's hands moved to take one of yours, holding your hand within his own. "i never-" he paused, trying to find the words to explain how he'd been feeling, "i've always been here, right here... and i guess you've never noticed it, but y/n... you're my best friend," he blinked, taking your silence as permission for him to continue.

the look on his face was almost unrecognisable, one you had never seen him give you before. but one you had seen him give to others... other girls. but this time, it was different. there was something different in his eyes, a sense of need.

"i love you," he finally got out, his words almost too quiet for you to hear.

he was in love.

you let out a ragged breath, unsure of what to say before the words came spilling out, "mason i-" a hundred thoughts were rushing through your mind before your hands reached out to cup his face, pulling him down to your level.

you pressed your lips against his in a haste kiss, desperate to show him that you felt the same way, but had no idea how to put it into words. pulling away from him, your hands remained on either side of his face as you spoke, "i love you too, mase."

#mason mount fluff #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount fanfic #football imagine #football x reader #mason mount one shot #mason mount blurb

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safination · 2 months

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Partners in Death...And Life

Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You: Part i

|Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-Host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| |Part 5: Gimpse of me and you: Part ii| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Pairings: Alastor x wife! Reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationships, Asexual! Alastor, Reader is in hell for a reason Warning: Blood and dead bodies <3| A little bit suggestive Series summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping...*checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Now, I know what you must be thinking. Part 1? Yeah…this chapter is supposed to actually be much longer, but the second part of the fic isn’t complete yet and I have like two more exams. And biochemistry isn’t something to laugh about. I am slowly losing my mind. I close my eyes and I see aldehydes and hemiketals. Anyway, part two of this will be posted in like two or three days. It’s already drafted, just need to edit it. So here’s a bite size chapter. It contains marriage years 1930 and 1931. 1932 isn't complete yet, sadly. It was quite long, so part 2 will just be 1932.

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1930

That blasted car is too far.

With each step, the tip of your heels scrape the pavement. Shoe maintenance tells you that dragging the rubber tip shortens its lifespan, but your toes pinch when you lift your shoe. Alastor takes long strides, walking with the pace of a man with his ass on fire. Pick a struggle. One either walks fast but takes short strides, or walks slow but takes long strides. It’s unethical to have both.

Streetlamps illuminate the sidewalk. The dried leaves scattered around catch on your shoe, and the city’s smog particles stick on your skin.

The city sucks ass.

Alastor will have to drag you by the hair to force you to take another step on this cockroach infested streets. One taste of that fresh air surrounding your shared home, and suddenly, you’ve gone soft. Gone are the days where second-hand smoke reminded you of home. Now, home is the radio’s volume turned up in ungodly hours.

Alastor tightens his arm around yours, pulling you closer to him.

He’s wearing his favorite bowtie tonight. Everything from the shine of his shoes to the way he combed his hair screams fancy…except for that bowtie. It’s not something meant for exquisite dinners with your wife. You didn’t understand his instance. It was something you picked up on your way home one day, a measly scrap of fabric you purchased back when you didn’t know what good quality bow ties were. Alastor should know of its poor quality, yet he calls it his favorite.

Alastor lowers closer to your ear. “Is this your way of telling me you wish to visit the city’s zoo?”

“Zoo…?” you echo. These shoes are going straight in the garbage bin once you get home. “Why would I want to go there?”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. “I thought you were doing a penguin impression. It's a rather fabulous one, might I add.”

“Ha…Ha…Ha. It’s because I’m walking like a penguin. Not your best one, dearest,” you say, patting his biceps. They’re firmer than they look. “That’s a little bit on the nose. Is it an off night for you?”

“Your feet are hurting,” Alastor tells you like you don’t feel the way your toes slowly lose blood circulation. “I wonder…. Will you deny it? Or are you willing to humble yourself before me, and ask for a seat? There’s still a few more blocks until we reach the car.”

Now, there’s absolutely no way you are going to tell Alastor how your feet pinch and your ankle wobble. With a bright smile, and sheer acting, you continue walking. “Did you do this on purpose?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “You were the one who insisted on accompanying me.”

“Well, my feet feel perfectly normal,” you say as your toes buzz. “This is nothing. You should see how long I’m on my feet during work.”

“Yes, because that is a perfectly acceptable thing to happen in workplaces, dearest.” Alastor tightens his arm once more. His thumb brushes up and down your arm. “I would say it pains me to say this, but we both know that would be a lie. I told you so.”

“You did not, actually,” you say, shaking your foot to dislodge the leaves sticking to the bottom of your shoe. “You barely took one glance and said, ‘Those look lovely, dear!’.”

Alastor pauses his steps, and turns to you with a smile. The night does little to dull how bright his brown eyes shine like stardust to you.

He reaches out towards you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He tugs on your ear, and you slap his hand away. Alastor massages his hand. “That hurt, you know,” he says. “But I meant about waiting. You should still be enjoying your drink.”

“And leaves my dearest, darling husband out here? Alone?” you snort, pulling him to continue walking. “I think I remember someone telling me that thieves don’t dissolve in the sun. Imagine them in the dark!”

“And what would be your plan if we both get robbed?”

You show Alastor your biggest smile. “It’s a good thing I have such a big and scary husband to protect me …. .You…You would protect me, right?”

Alastor’s laughter rings across the air. It’s breathy and light and absolutely everything to you.

Alastor grabs your hand and intertwine his fingers around yours. He leads you further into the streets. Soon, smooth pavements replace the pot holes. Leaves replace the scattered beer cans. Grass replace the asphalt roads. Treen replace the buildings. Alastor pulls you deeper into some tiny park where the streetlamps are brighter, and the air smells closer to home.

You follow him, squeezing his hand.

Alastor squeezes back.

At the corner of this park, a children’s playground stands.

The dark does little to dull the bright colors of the seesaw and monkey bars. In the middle, a pirate-shim themed deck connects to a slide. The swing sways lazily with the nudge of the night’s breeze. There’s not a single living soul except for you and him. It’s eerie to see such a place empty when it should be filled to the brim with the life of children’s laughter.

Alastor’s strides become longer, and his pace even faster as he pulls you closer to the playground’s swing.

He releases his grip, and suddenly, your hand belongs to you once more. Alastor brushes the sand off the swing, and offers you a seat with a bow and outstretched arms.

You take the seat. The pressure lifts from your buzzing toes. It’s almost heavenly.

Alastor slides his coat off his shoulders. With soft giggles and a stupid smile, you watch him pull his arm out. Sleeve garters are worn for practical uses, but as a fashion piece….Hmmm, it’s a great look on him. It’s a shame Alastor often hides how those garters compliment his biceps with a coat. How long would it take to hide every single coat he owns?

Alastor slides his eyes to you. It lingers. “Stop that.”

You offer him your most innocent smile as a reply.

Alastor inches close enough for you to inhale his scent. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, pulling on the lapels to secure it around your shoulders.

You press your lips on the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”

Alastor kneels on the ground. He pulls your ankle towards him, sliding off your heel. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

You kiss his cheek. “Was there something else I needed to say?” you ask. “That seemed like a proper response.”

He glides his thumb over the reddened parts of your skin, massaging your foot. “Exactly….It was a proper response,” he tells you. “Aren’t you going to question me? Demand to know if I’m going to kill you?”

“I think what you’re doing is rather obvious.”

Alastor stores your shoes to the side, and leaves your feet hanging out in the air. He circles behind you, hovering close enough to feel his presence, even with the coat. He wraps his hands around the metal chain connected to the swing, and sways you back and forth. “Did you enjoy the restaurant? A co-worker recommended it to me.”

“And in the off chance I don’t, will I be seeing that co-worker lying in the middle of our basement?”

Alastor smiles at you. “That depends,” he says. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You tilt your head backwards to catch his eyes. “Is this a trick question? Am I supposed to say that nothing can compare to your cooking, or something along those lines?”

Alastor shakes the chains, jerking the swing. “You’re supposed to give me an actual answer,” he says, rolling his eyes. “We can come back if you liked it.”

You lean on Alastor’s leg, using it as a backrest. “Every meal is enjoyable when I am in your company, my love” you say. “But that crab was something else. It looked expensive.…We’re, uh, not suddenly going to become poor, right?”

Alastor stares at you. “I’m going to push you off.”

You wrap your hands around Alastor’s, keeping his hold around the chains firm. “What did I do this time?”

Alastor sighs, and swings you gently. “I can afford nice dinners with you.”

“Just me?”

“Only you.”

Alastor pulls you to your feet. Sand pools around your toes. You pull his coat closer around your shoulders as he drags you closer to the pirate-ship themed deck. He releases his hold on your hand, and your fingers brush against each other.

He walks to the platform. The entrance was made for children, so Alastor has to crawl and duck underneath to access the slide.

You fiddle with the lapels of his coat. “What are you doing?”

Alastor glances back at you, smiling as he crawls underneath the entrance. His ass sticks out when he does. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“If your ass gets stuck,” you begin, crossing your arms, “I’m going to leave you here.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, shimmying further into the entrance. “How lucky then that it’s, apparently, horrendously flat,” he says. “There’s nothing there to get stuck.”

“There’s nothing horrendous about it,” you say with a smile. “I see you’re wearing the pants I like.”

Alastor snorts. “Oh, shut up.”

“Not a chance.” Your smile twists brighter.

Alastor grabs the railing, and pulls himself up. His biceps contract when he does. Sleeve garters and railing are for practical uses, but the only thing echoing through your mind were impractical uses right now. Un-practical but exciting....You need to get it together.

“…Flirting,” Alastor says, pulling your mind from wherever it wandered off to. “Really?”

“That was hardly flirting, dearest.”

Alastor ducks into the slide. His ass lands on the sand, and he curses into the air. You cough to stifle a laugh.

He hops to his feet, brushing the sand off his pants. His lips twist and his eyebrows furrow as he cringes in pain. “This is a hazard,” he says, glaring at the slide. He turns to you and smiles. “You should try it.”

“How brave of you to risk a shattered tailbone for me,” you say. “But I’m not sliding down that thing when you just called it a hazard.”

“You are an incredibly boring person,” he tells you. “Is it not a fad nowadays to be loose and goofy against these depressing times of economic downfall?”

Your raise your eyebrow.” You want me to crawl up there and slide down in this outfit?”

Alastor leans on the side of the slide. “I don’t see any good reason not to.”

“If you wish to ogle my undergarments, there’s no need to concoct such a scheme,” you say, smiling at him. “You merely need to ask.”

Alastor’s lips twist. “I’m not—”

“Oh, calm down, I’m just pulling your leg,” you say, snorting. “You would need to think of someone besides yourself to do such a thing. So, there’s no need to get your perfect little head into such a fuss.”

“Stop it.”

You smile innocently. “No.”

Alastor walks closer to you. “And you wonder why no one wanted to play with you as a child.”

You take steps to walk closer to him as well, meeting him halfway. “Everyone wanted to play with me,” you say. “I’ll have you know that I was quite the delight.”

You stand before each other, inches apart.

Alastor stares at you. What do those eyes tell him as he watches you stand before him, buried into his coat? He leans closer to you. “I doubt that.”

You take a step closer and slide your arms around him to bury yourself into his hold.

“How rude,” you say with a smile. You look up at him to hold his gaze, propping your chin on his chest. His arms tighten around your back. “I was such a delightful child that I would have played with you, even when no other kid wanted to do so.”

Alastor leans down, pecking your lips. You inch upwards to chase his lips, but self-control takes over. “You are and always will be a nerd,” he says. “You were probably the type to read during the afternoon.”

You tighten your hug on him. “What an incredible assumption to make.”

Alastor places a hand on your head. “Am I wrong?”

“I’m not telling you that,” you say, leaning your head into his chest.

Alastor pulls away from the hug, grabbing your hand to drag you to the monkey bars.

He climbs to the very top, and swings his legs to sit between the bars. He offers his hand, and you take it. His thumb brushes over your fingers and you climb up the steps and onto the bars. It’s difficult to maneuver with such a fancy outfit. Alastor keeps a steady hand on you, and the other goes on your waist as you slide to sit next to him.

The whole playground can be seen from the top of the monkey bars.

“If you weren’t a nerd,” Alastor begins, bumping your shoulder with his, “then you were probably a bully.”

You grip the bar, leaning back to stare. His hair brushes over his eyes. Alastor runs a hand over the strands to push it back. You reach out and push his glasses up his nose. “What makes you say that?”

Alastor boops your nose. “You’re a pretty little thing who works in healthcare. Isn’t there a stereotype for that?”

You blink at him a bit dumbly, cheeks flushed and tingling. Heat trails up your skin, and you have to turn away to hide from his gaze. “You think I’m pretty?” you ask rather idiotically. Deep breaths are needed to calm yourself. “Look…look who’s flirting now.”

Alastor hooks his legs on the bar, and swings backwards. He hangs in the air, the force of his legs the only thing keeping him from falling.

“Don’t do that,” you say, hissing. “You could break your neck.”

Alastor catches your eye with a wild smile. “I won’t.”

“And I’ll be sure to tell that to my next husband as we’re spending all your money,” you tell him. “Now get down from there before you make me a widow!”

Alastor releases his legs from the bar, and his body smacks on the ground. He lies motionless on the sand.

With a sigh, you carefully climb down the monkey bars. You nudge Alastor’s bicep with your foot when you reach him. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

Silence.

You fold the skirt of your dress, and sit across him. You slam your head onto him, using his chest as a pillow.

“Oof!” Alastor curls into you a bit, eyes twitching. He drapes an arm over your stomach, and draws spirals with his finger.

“I think we could have been friends when we were children,” you say, smiling as you feel the way his chest rises up and down with each breath he takes.

Alastor studies the sky. There are no stars to look at here in the city. It’s covered by the lights and the smog. “We wouldn’t. I probably would have hated you.”

“You—Hate me? Impossible!” you say with a laugh. “You think I’m pretty.”

“Ha. Ha,” he says. “You think you’re so clever.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, tracing the ring on his finger. “Sadly, I think I’ll have to agree,” you say. “I probably would have hated you as well.”

“I’m impossible to hate.”

“I'm sure I, of all people, could find a way,” you say with a smile. “Kids can be mean. And you were probably a really weird one.”

Alastor raises his hand to the air, studying his ring against the dark sky. You do the same. Both rings shimmer in the night. “Yet…,” he starts, “here we are, married.”

“I can’t believe we actually got married.”

“I can.”

“Is this where you’ll tell me all about how you fell in love with me at first sight?” your snort. “That my smile and incredible stitching told you I was the woman you were going to wash dishes with for the rest of your life.”

Alastor laughs and his chest rises and falls. “Well, it wasn't flirting.”

“I did not flirt with you.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“On our third meeting, you told me we walked to the wrong house, just to spend four hours with me in the rain,” Alastor says, and you see the smile creeping on his lips. “You were so entrapped by my very being that you couldn’t bear to spend another second without me. You looked like you wanted to kis—”

You slam your head down into his chest. “Oh, shut up.”

Alastor glances at you. “Not a chance.”

“Okay then, well I remember two people underneath that umbrella,” you say with a huff. “You accepted my invitation.”

“I did,” he says. “Although, I had the excuse of needing to gather information on such a suspicious person. That was purely professional.”

“And you decided that an additional four hours of walking was necessary,” you say. “You could have stopped entertaining me in the first hour or even the second, but you spent all four hours getting your shoulders wet.”

“I did, indeed.”

Laughter rings into the air. With each and every of Alastor’s laugh, your head bounces up and down. You bury your face deeper into his chest, laughing against it.

“We’ve been married for more than a year,” you say. “How has it been for you?”

“Nothing much has changed, surprisingly,” Alastor says, shrugging his shoulders. “The only thing that’s different is I get to say the most ridiculous thing like how completing it is to be able to just exist with you.”

You take his hand, bringing it closer to your mouth to brush a soft kiss. “There’s nothing ridiculous about it, my love. I enjoy how completing it is to be able to just exist when you are with me,” you say, and Alastor caresses your cheek, trailing the back of his fingers down your skin. “Shall we head home?”

There’s a brightness in Alastor’s eyes when he smiles. “Not yet,” he says. “Let’s stay like this for a moment.”

Maybe the city isn’t so awful. Alastor could ask you to stay in this park forever, and you would happily breathe in the smog. Later, you will have to stand and grab your shoes, and finally head home to prepare for the next day. But that’s later. This is now.

You giggle against his chest. “You think I’m pretty.”

Alastor groans, placing a hand over his eyes.

There will be a lifetime of moments like this waiting for you in a world where you both just exist.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1931

The needle pierces through the fabric. You tug on it, pulling the blue thread up and then around to create a simple back stitch. The cat’s outline pieces together. Later, you’ll fill the cloth with grass and flowers, and a little butterfly to give the cat a friend. Should you gift this to Alastor? Well, either way, he’ll find a way to display it around the house sooner or later.

The radio crackles, and music fades into the background.

Soft taps sound on the speaker. “Before I leave for the night,” Alastor’s voice rings from the radio, “I would like to call any attention to any wives out there, especially the one married to me.”

It doesn’t matter that Alastor is all the way at work, miles away, you still roll your eyes at him…but you turn the volume up, listening closely to what he has to say.

“I know my voice can get, oh, so, entrapping,” he says, and you swear you can hear him smile. “Thus, this is a gentle encouragement to complete any tasks you are putting off. For example, you could take out the trash like what was agreed upon.”

You glare at the radio, flicking its wood. “Oh, I hate you,” you mutter. “I hate you so much.”

“Now, now, dearest, we both know that is a lie,” Alastor says. “Don’t wait up!”

The music fades back in, and the broadcast ends for the night.

He likes to think he’s so clever. Let’s see how clever he’ll be when you kill him in his sleep. It will be easy, barely an inconvenience. You’ll drop a pillow right over that handsome face of his, and laugh as he chokes on his own ego.

However,…with a sigh…you take out the trash…like what was agreed upon.

The air is cold at this time of night. The moon looks beautiful tonight, it’s light illuminating the garden. It would be a shame to waste such a breathtaking sight. A part of you wishes to share this with Alastor, that he could be here, right now, and stare at the moon next to you. And the two of you will exist in each other’s company.

You grab the unfinished art piece, and continue on the rocking chair, stitching and listening to the crickets.

It takes hours of stitching and sore fingers, but Alastor’s car finally pulls up the driveway. The engine dies, and he hops out of the car, circling to the trunk and popping it open.

You drop your things, and take a seat on the porch steps to watch him, the moon no longer being the most breathtaking sight.

Alastor’s still wearing his favorite bowtie. It’s too dark to see clearly, but you think he’s pulling out a body from the car’s trunk. He grabs the straps of the obviously filled cadaver bag, letting it drag across the floor.

A good wife would help their husbands carry a very heavy and very dead body. But…if it means being able to sit and stare at your husband hauling a very, very dead person, then maybe, being a good wife is overrated.

Alastor pauses when he sees you, dropping the straps of the cadaver bag. “What are—Is something wrong?”

You smile at the urgency in his voice. “No, not one bit,” you say, leaning on your head on your hand. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“You should be in bed,” he says, crossing his arms. “I told you not to wait for me.”

Your huff, blowing strands of your hair off your face. “Did you? This is the first I’m hearing of this.”

“I did,” Alastor tells you. “Did you not catch tonight’s broadcast?”

“It was a rather busy day. I had things to do, people to see, and all that.”

Even in the dark, you see the way Alastor’s grin widens. He steps towards the garbage bin, opening the lid to check its content. “You are such a horrible liar,” he says, snorting. “I see you got my message.”

Alastor steps into the light.

Part of his hair slicks back. It’s different from its usually neat look. His sleeves are pulled up, folded until his elbow. There are several red stains on him. It’s on his hair, stains his clothes, and paints his face. His eyes have never looked so brown before. How does Alastor manage to make murder…into…into…. You clear your throat a bit, already counting the day until the next time he goes on his hunts.

“Why, hello there, stranger,” you say, not bothering to fight the smile on your lips. “It’s rather cold tonight. Would you mind keeping a lady company?”

Alastor rolls his eyes, brushing back his hair. “I’m a mess.”

“Red’s a great look,” you say. “The seat next to me is empty.”

“Flirting, really?” he says, but he sits next to you. “You’re getting shameless these days.”

You press your lips on his cheek. “For you?” Another kiss. “Always.”

Alastor takes off his coat. The fabric pools around his broad shoulders and down his back before he pulls out his arms. He throws it at your face, smacking you with it. “I hope you don’t go around saying stuff like that to every man you see,” he says, smiling at you. “I might get jealous.”

You peel off his coat from your face, wrapping it around your shoulders. “Only the one married to me,” you tell him. “You should see how I flirt with my husband.”

Alastor props an arm on the steps, leaning back to meet your eyes. “How disappointing to hear you’re married.”

“Don’t be! This current one won’t be alive for very long, so there’s going to be an open spot,” you say, waving your hands. “Are you interested in taking his place? I hope you are—you’re much more handsome than he is.”

Alastor flicks your nose. “Funny.”

You rub your nose a bit. “So…,” you begin, propping your legs across Alastor’s lap, “what is a charming thing like you doing in these woods?”

A strong breeze sways his hair into his eyes. Alastor pushes the strands away, smiling at you like he always does. “What an honor it is to be called charming by you.”

“Oh, not just charming!” you say, clutching your heart as you swoon. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?”

Alastor laughs, and his glasses slide down his nose. You push it up for him. “Not nearly enough,” he says. “Maybe I should take your husband’s open spot, afterall. My wife never compliments me as much as you do.”

He traces circles on the skin of your legs. You give him a little kick for what he said. “Maybe she would say it more if your ego didn’t inflate every time,” you say. “I would go as far as to say she’s doing God’s work by keeping you humble.”

Alastor pushes your legs off his lap.

He reaches into his pocket and takes out his handkerchief. Your eyes catch on the little design embroidered on the fabric. “Since you insist on keeping me here, you should at least help clean me up,” he says, offering the cloth to you. “I would do it myself, but there’s no mirror here.”

“Why clean such a masterpiece?” you say, but accept the handkerchief anyway. “May I?”

Alastor nods, inching close enough for the smell of rusted copper and iron to hit your nose. Intoxicating. It was just plainly and simply…divine. Like a rose that fell straight from heaven’s garden.

You wipe blood off his face. Some of the streaks had already dried. There’s a stubborn spot right on his jaw. You brush the back of your fingers down his cheek, trailing it down until you hook it right under his chin.

How does your face look right now for Alastor to stare at you with wide eyes?

The smudge line of blood that paints his jaw isn’t clearing. It’s too dry. You inch your face closer, brushing your nose on his skin as you inhale the dangerous combination of Alastor mixing with the strong undertones of iron. Soft exhales land on his skin. Your lips part, giving way to moisten that dried spot with your tongue, trailing it up his jaw.

The hints of metal tingle against your tongue. It was sweet and salty, and it combined with Alastor to create something akin to aged fine wine. But not even the most expensive wine could be as intoxicating as this.

Alastor grabs your face, pulling you to meet his eyes. He squishes your cheeks. “That’s unsanitary!” he says, hissing. “You don’t know what type of bacteria mixed in it.”

You pull your face away from his hold, giving him your most innocent smile.

Hopping to your feet, you circle around the dead body that lies in a very dead position on the ground. You kneel, heart thumping, and pull the zipper down.

“Oh…,” you say, taking in the violence this man experienced, “…wow.”

Alastor was not kind to this man, for this one died screaming.

Alastor leans his arms on his knees, smiling at you. “ I got a little carried away,” he says. “Will you still be able to use him?”

“I think he’ll agree that got more than a little carried away,” you say, snorting as you zip the body back into its bag. “Shall I fetch the bone saw?”

“It’s that bad?”

You walk over to where Alastor sits on the steps, climbing to hover on top of him. The only thing keeping you from crashing down on his chest are the way your hands grip the wood behind him. Inches of space separate your bodies. How far will Alastor entertain you?

You smile down at him, trapping him on the steps between your arms. “I can have this one in pieces by sunrise,” you say, voice barely a whisper. “You can grab the spare, and we can call it a date.”

Alastor tilts his chin up to meet your eyes as he smiles at you. “And tell me,” he begins, voice just as soft as yours. He settles his hands on your waist to steady you above him, “how do you plan on achieving his?”

You trace his shoulder, trailing your fingers up his clavicle bone. “It’s like cutting a chicken,” you say. “All I need to do is take my knife and pound the edge across the joints to disconnect his limbs in one swift motion. Smaller pieces would require the saw.”

Alastor pushes himself upwards, and presses a kiss on your cheek. “And you would spend all night cutting this man for me?”

You hum with delight. “Only for you.”

Alastor tugs your waist, and you come crashing on top of him. You curse as your hands slip, and your face lands on his chest. Alastor hugs you, his laughter ringing in the air, breathy and light and so full of delight. “You are the most ridiculous person to be able to exist with.”

You laugh, accepting how Alastor is the one doing the trapping now. “I’m honored you think so.”

“I think that was the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my life,” he says. “I think I could kiss you right now.”

“Don’t let your wife catch you saying that.” You snake your arms around Alastor’s back, tightening the hug he shares with you. “I hear she gets extremely jealous, and it’s never a smart idea to cross a woman who owns a bone saw.”

Alastor’s back digs into the edges of the porch steps. If your added weight lodges the wood deeper into his back, then he makes no complaints. “That’s truly an idiotic thing to do.”

You press yourself deeper into his hold. It’s quite ridiculous. Hugging you on top of the steps must be uncomfortable, but Alastor does so anyway.

In the end, it’s you who pulls away first, but only to save him from an aching back.

Grasping the steps, you climb higher and press your lips on his forehead. You take the seat next to him. Alastor reaches for you, adjusting his coat around your shoulders to secure you from the night’s cold breeze.

“Bad day at work?” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Alastor leans his head on top of yours. “I’m better now.”

You press deeper into him, laughing against his dress shirt. It’s stained with blood, but you don’t mind. “So, tell me, who is this unfortunate fellow that was on the receiving end of your stress,” you say. “And should I be jealous?”

“I don’t know if I should answer that—Do you happen to own a bone saw?”

You swat his arm, rolling your eyes as you do.

Alastor presses his body closer against yours. “I would love to hear you guess.”

“Hmmm….Well, this is Larry, and he comes from humble beginnings,” you tell him. “He’s a self-made man who met this pretty little thing.”

Alastor takes your hand, thumbing the ring on your finger. “You’re getting better at this.”

There are too many stains on Alastor’s shirt. It’s beyond saving. You’ll have to burn his whole outfit. “Larry met this most darling belle. They were happy until tragedy struck.”

Alastor pulls off his gloves, intertwining his bare fingers with yours. “I do love a tragedy.”

“They fell in love.”

“That’s not tragic,” he says, snorting.

“Then you are a fool, dearest. Love can kill in a way no one has ever been able to describe. Not even the greatest poets can describe the true depths of loss,” you tell him, squeezing his hand. “Homes have been burned in its name.”

Alastor kisses your cheek. “And how did Larry suffer?”

“His darling got taken away from him, in more ways than one,” you say. “Even on her deathbed, she could not recognize him.”

Alastor clutches his heart. “How truly heartbreak!”

You glance up at Alastor. He’s looking at the moon. “Yet, here you are smiling.”

“That’s because you are the most fantastic story teller.”

You pull away to stand, and your fingers brush as it slips out of his.

The porch stairs creak with every step. You reach for the radio on the windowsill, turning the knob until a faint click. Alastor’s lips twist when you change his pre-set station for softer melodies. That man and his radios—Always so particular.

You offer a hand to Alastor, giving him a small bow. “Dance with me?”

“I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion,” Alastor tells you, yet he takes your hand in his.

“There’s no need to worry about such trifling things,” you say. “I think you look divine, like a rose straight from heaven made just for me.”

Alastor wraps his hand around your own, and settles the other on your waist. Dancing can barely describe what you’re doing, not when the both of you only had the energy to sway to the music. But nevertheless, Alastor takes the lead on this dance.

He raises his arm, twirling you underneath. Your eyes lock together when you face him. “Hi.”

You smile at him. “Hi.”

“I’ve been wondering…How did you know work was stressing me?” he says, as you dance to the radio’s music. “Why say work specifically?”

You tilt your head, motioning to the window behind you. “That radio over there,” you say. “The one you keep by your chair. You were listening to it this morning when I gave you coffee.”

You hum the lyrics of the song that plays on the radio. It’s quite nice. Maybe you’ll ask Alastor to play it during his broadcast as a dedication to you. But knowing him, he’ll take this opportunity to become a nuisance made for you, and find something to poke fun about.

His eyebrows furrow. “I don’t understand.”

“You listen to that specific radio when you’re happy,” you say. Those brown eyes of his shift to you. In your most humble opinion, they shine brighter than the stars. “You were fine when you left but somewhere between leaving and coming home to me, your mood turned sour.”

Alastor presses a kiss on your fingers, brushing his lips over your skin with each word. “I would love to hear more about this.”

“The one in the kitchen, that’s for when you’re tired,” you say, chuckling. “The one in the office is for when you’re bored. You listen to the one on our nightstand when you’re thinking or upset.”

“Then what about the radio in the basement?” he asks with a smile that could rival the moon. “Tell me when I listen to that one.”

“That one is for me. You leave it there so I have something to keep me company,” you say. “The saxophone, on the other hand, is for when you’re frustrated.”

“And now, you’re just a master of what I’m feeling.”

“Not at all,” you say with a shrug. “I don’t know how you feel right now.”

Alastor inches closer, leaning down to meet your eyes. “Would you like to know?”

“Sure.”

Alastor places a hand on your cheek, caressing you with his thumb. You lean into how gently he traces your face. He leans closer, nudging his nose against your own. Alastor brushes his lips over you, and the cracks on his lip prick you. Why he decided to torture you with soft touches and hovering inches away exceeds your understanding.

The strong scent of copper and iron on his skin intoxicate every molecule that makes up your body. He’s unfair. Too unfair of him to hold such power over you. Alastor would love to know how he makes your skin buzz with each and every glance of those too brown eyes that shine brighter than starlight. This is a fact you will take to your grave.

Your eyes flutter to a close. Alastor decides to show you mercy, finally kissing your lips.

Open!

The demand drums across your mind.

Your eyelids stay shut as you kiss him back. The need to look at Alastor’s too brown eyes shout at you. What face is Alastor making right now? How does he look? What do those eyes see?

But he kisses you gently. Oh…so…gently. Alastor kisses you like he had something to say. There are words being whispered across your skin as your lips move together. His thumb brushes your skin, and you can’t open your eyes.

Kissing him makes you wish you spent your youth studying poems and soft metaphors instead of the role of hexokinase in turning Glucose into Glucose-6-phosphate. This wish comes suddenly and out of nowhere. Not once have you ever wished for a different pursuit. But you would forfeit all your knowledge to be able to describe the way Alastor’s lips strike you to your very soul.

That thought disappears quickly, mind too preoccupied with the overwhelming sensation of soft lips placing kiss after kiss. The arm around your waist pulls you close, your body pressing against his own as if it was the most natural thing to place you there, as if the Seraphim creating your bodies carved you to belong.

Alastor pulls away with a soft smile.

It takes every ounce of your self-control not to chase after his lips and pull him back to you. Heat flushes your face. You can’t find the strength to open your eyes, not with how much he makes your cheeks tingle.

“You’ve been observing me.” Alastor brushes your eyelids with his thumb. “Open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter, heeding to his demand. There it is, your favorite sight looking straight at you, holding a beauty that the moon cannot compete against—his eyes. “Hi.”

Alastor’s smile widens. “Hi.”

There are words that bubble on your lips. Words that are begging to be said. Three words that could very well make this man run when he understands just how deep those words mean for him.

And there it is again, that wish to become a poet because those three words can never truly describe what is imprinted on your soul’s very essence. Those three words are not enough for a man who deserves poems full of soft metaphors and sweet analogies.

“That’s because I…I…,” you trail off, hiding your face in his chest. “I think that’s just called marriage, and I always was weak to such radiant beauty.”

Coward…You are a coward.

That’s okay.

You don’t mind the word being shouted to you by your heart, not when it means you can guard it with walls.

It’s okay to be a coward, because it means there will always be a tomorrow. There will always be another chance, another moment, another day to be brave. Another tomorrow. Another next week. Another next month. Another next year.

There’s no need to tell Alastor the word your soul desperately wants him to understand. Not right now, at least.

Not when the evidence is already there: You and him.

There will be a lifetime of moments like this waiting for you in a world where you are his.

Next Part: |Glimpse of Me and You: Part 2| Don't be shy to talk to me. I don't bite at all! I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter. And all comments really motivate me to work <3. 1932 will be posted in a few days. 1933 on the other hand….Well, let’s just say that such a grand year needs its own chapter. As I was writing this, I kept going back to the idea that Reader can flirt, but can't handle being flirted back. It was too funny not to add. And like I swear heart appears in my eyes, as well as Reaader's eyes everytime Alastor does anything just slightly unhinged. That too was too funny not to add. Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @alastorssimp @aestheticgals-blog @slaggylemon @reikamasama @obessivlyonline @okay-babe @lyralibra @holymusicalmothman @amoraneuro @tobyisher3

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x wife!reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #Alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin imagines #hazbin hotel headcanon

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roohuh · 1 year

Text

Dragon Hunting

Part 4 of year Six in Obliviate

Ominis X MC

Summary: You and Ominis are on the hunt for dragons.

Warnings: kissing and cuddling so the usual fluff

Hand in hand you and Ominis walk through a grassy highland field outside of Feldcroft. You are in search of the dragon Ominis had mentioned in a letter he sent to you this summer, which you were convinced was the same dragon you and Poppy had rescued from poachers the year before. While Ominis was not overly thrilled at the idea of hunting down a dragon to check on a baby-it may, or not may have- he could not deny that spending an afternoon wandering around with you was not a bad way to spend a sunny saturday. Animatedly you chat with Ominis; he loves when you describe the scenery to him, inwardly chuckling at the random things you deem noteworthy, like a rock that looks like a troll or a cave where you actually had fought a troll. Crouching down you harvest some leaping mushrooms which have caught your eye.

“Just what I needed.” Tucking the ingredients back into your bag you notice a small smile playing on Ominis lips as he listens to you.

“What is that look?” Tilting your head to the side you ask a smile playing on your own lips.

“I was just admiring your frugality. You will have a larder full by the end of this outing of ours.” In protest you make a loud raspberry sound sticking the mushrooms in your bag dramatically.

“You tease now but then when we have everything we need for brewing through the winter your coin purse will be thanking me.” Taking his outstretched hand you pull him down next to you, laying on your back while looking up into the sky.

“This is as good a spot as any to watch for dragons. There are sheep just in that field that might tempt them.” Chuckling Ominis lays his hands behind his head comfortably,

“I’ll keep a sharp lookout.” As you lay there watching the sky Ominis agreeably dozes next to you. Finding it hard to stare at the sky and his soft sleeping face you let yourself abandon your watch instead committing every inch of his serine features to memory. Stifling a giggle you watch as a stray butterfly lands on his nose, the insect opening and closing its delicate wings enjoying the sunshine. Feeling a tickle Ominis swats at his face and the butterfly once again drifts into the air away to some flower. All of a sudden your daydreaming is interrupted by a huge whooshing of air as a massive white juvenile dragon lands in the field in front of you. Not seeming to notice your presence the dragon rolls in the grass enjoying its soft texture. Wide eyed you freeze, hand slowly going to Ominis arm.

“Wake up, and don’t move.” Urgently you whisper to Ominis. Waking with a start he sits motionless, listening to the animals frolicking. Unable to quell your curiosity, and much to the chagrin of Ominis, you army crawl closer to the dragon. Captivated, you watch as the young beast prances around the field playing with the sheep she caught ae if she was a kitten who has just caught her first mouse. Overhead a fimllar roar booms out signaling the mothers approach. She swoops protectively between you and her ospring; having sharper senses than her baby you are immediately detected.

“Woah there mama, I am not trying to hurt your baby.” You soothe rising to your feet while trying to remain unthreatening. With cautious recognition she eyes you, maintaining a wary distance. Ominis frantically hisses at you to move away from the animal, instead you reach out a hand, bow your head, and close your eyes. The feeling of steaming hot scales is pressed into your fingers. Delighted, you open your eyes; face to face with the massive dragon. Hot heavy breath steams from her nostrils.

“I am glad to see you safe mama.” You soothe the animal, gently rubbing her muzzle. Curiously the baby approaches you, tripping over her own feet in excitement. At her offsprings approach, the mother dragon lets out a low deep growl. You freeze not wanting to upset the protective parent. The mothers gaze shifts to Ominis who is still laying motionless in the grass, as the dragon moves towards your companion you shift your weight positioning yourself between them. She haunts giving you a challenging eye. An insane idea pops into your head as you watch the mothers movements. Standing on your toes you gently take a hold of her snout, and place a tender kiss on the nose of the creature. Alarmed she rears onto her back legs flapping her wings as she lets out an ear shattering roar. You stand your ground, as she displays her might before you, knees shaking but determined. Settling back down she looks at you again, seemingly won over by your bravery she lays down in the grass comfortably. At her mothers ease the baby springs atop of you, knocking you on your back, she sniffs you all over. Giggling you try and regain your footing as you call Ominis over.

“I think she has deemed us friendly, you should be safe to approach as long as you are respectful.”

“I think I am fine where I am, thank you. And I would much rather you keep a safe distance as well. These are wild dragons, you lunatic.”

“Friendly wild dragons.” You correct scrambling back to your feet. The baby paws and nuzzles you unaware of her gargantuan size. Affectionately you pat the dragons head and stroke her sides all under the watchful gaze of the mother. After a while, without warning, the mother rises to her feet letting out a short call. The baby runs to her side as the two of them once again take to the air. Powerful wind from their wings knocks you on your butt and you watch in awe as they fly away. As soon as they are gone Ominis is at your side,

“You know I am starting to think you have some sort of sick death wish.”

“I had everything under control.”

“We will have that inscribed on your tombstone one day.” His tone is of disapproval, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. You laugh, taking his hand, your own still shaking with adrenaline. Feeling your trembling he places a soft kiss on the back of your hand,

“Please don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger like that my darling. If something were to happen to you…” his voice trails off at the end.

“I am sorry for scaring you.” You whisper, trying to appear remorseful. A brisk wind from a coastal storm which is blowing in causes you to shiver, at once you are enveloped in Ominis large cloak pulling you close to his chest, his heart is still racing from the dragon in counter.

“Are you cold?” His voice is tender and low.

“Not anymore.” He hums in contentment, smoothing the top of your hair.

“You never are going to stop scaring me are you?” He chuckles.

“As long as you never stop caring for my well being.” Hand circling your face he gently takes a hold of your chin pointing your face up towards his.

“Never.” He whispers before planting a soft affectionate kiss on your lips.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #fanfic #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #harry potter hogwarts game #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x you #ominis fluff #sebastian sallow

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itsgoghtime · 1 month

Text

World in Color

Chapter VIII

Words : 2659

CW : good things. sad things. all the things. been waiting for the events of this chapter since I began the series and it took me a long time to finish because it hurts 🥺 - so buckle up, buttercup, it will hurt

taglist : @valmare @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @horserad-ish

"Will, baby, did you buy celery at the grocery store?"

"I did, my love. It's probably buried in the right hand drawer underneath all the sticks of butter you pulled out of the freezer for rolls and pie crust."

Dinner preparation was in full swing at Pumpkin's house. Pots and pans were used, washed, then used again.

"I really hope I didn't burden Erin too much, the turkey and mashed potatoes are a big de-AL!" She squeaked as Will spun her around and lifted her to sit on the counter. "William! We don't have..."

His lips met hers softly, hands resting on her thighs before he responded. "You worry too much."

"She has stage four cancer. I'm worried."

"Erin is strong. She'll..." Will went quiet. Erin was strong, that much was true. But she had been declining so rapidly since she called that hot August afternoon that he couldn't deny the future possibilities.

Pumpkin held his face in her hands.

"She is strong. And we'll help her enjoy today as much as we can." Her kiss was light on his lips, and he moved to cut the celery for her stuffing mix as she slid off the counter, wiping it down.

Noticing his demeanor had dampened, she leaned against him.

"Hey."

Will turned to look at her, taking her hands in his and rubbing his thumbs along the backs of her fingers, she gave him a soft smile.

"It's gonna be a good day. She said she was feeling a little better today."

He leaned into the kiss she pressed on his cheek, turning back to the celery.

"Oh, and another thing..."

This time, as Will turned, his nose was covered in flour. Her giggles brought a smile to his face.

"Oh, you're going to get it." She barely missed his arms trying to sweep her up, running out of the kitchen.

"Don't try and run from me, you little trouble maker!" He laughed, trying to figure out how to corner her. She seemed to be able to read his every move, even while her eyes were practically shut from laughing so hard.

"You can't catch me, Spooky." She bit her lip.

Will smirked, and he noticed her expression shift slightly.

"What's that look?"

"It means..." He lunged forward, tackling her to her couch, beginning to tickle her sides. She squirmed underneath him, giggling uncontrollably. "...that I've got you."

"No! Please! Stop! You can't... do this to meeeee!" Her giggles only continued.

Will did pause, leaning in to kiss her neck. After she had caught her breath, she leaned into his touch.

"Feel any better?"

"A little." He smirked against her warm skin. "I think you're right - today is going to be a good day."

♡ ♡ ♡

"Just a minute, hun, doing a last minute check to make sure I got everything!"

It was almost deja vu. Almost six years ago now, he had been looking at a similar ring box before his deployment that early morning in March. He had taken the ring out and put it into his pocket.

This time, the ring would stay in the box. It would travel with them to Erin's house. He'd have to be as discreet as he could, since Pumpkin recognized the smallest of details that were subject to change. But that didn't matter. She'd be his soon - they would finally be official. This had been waiting long enough.

The next time the ring came out of it's box, it would be on her finger.

"Got everything?" Her soft voice came from the doorway, and he jumped slightly, thankful that the box was already in the bottom pocket of his cargo pants.

"Goodness, love. Didn't think I'd scare you." She chuckled.

"It's alright. I have everything." His lips met her forehead, warm as usual even with the cool air blowing outside in the early spring sunshine. "I had promised I'd bring something from my time as a Marine to show the kids, since they've been asking so much about military life."

"You feel okay about that? I know you don't love reminiscing on your time in the military."

"I think so. I'm not a Marine anymore, Pumpkin. I'm..." His brain short circuited. In just a slip of the tongue, he had almost called himself her husband. But he caught it early enough that instead, he continued, "... just an Arizona rancher."

Her eyes flickered with curiosity, studying his facial features in the same manner that she did when she'd question his tone. Will wasn't certain if he could hide the surprise if she asked, even knowing that Erin was waiting and wanted to be there, he couldn't keep this from Pumpkin if she asked.

But, she just chuckled, putting him at ease. "That is true. Well, you will be. Got to get someone to buy this house first."

"You are correct there, my darling." His lips met her temple. "We got all the dishes into the back of your car?"

♡ ♡ ♡

"Isn't it my favorite couple in all the world! Hello!" Erin smiled from her armchair in the living room.

"Erin, you're looking lively today. How are you feeling?" Pumpkin sat next to her, taking her outstretched hand as Will directed his nephews to put the food he had brought in onto the counter.

"Lively. Today is a good day. Thank you for doing so much, I feel like my husband needed more to be doing, he seemed to get bored." At her husband giving her a teasingly annoyed look, Erin chuckled. "But really, thank you. It helped a lot."

"Of course."

"I think we'll just serve everything buffet style, you can get your plate and come right through... boys! Stop fighting and get ready to say Grace. It's Easter, heaven forbid." Erin chuckled. She had been in the middle of some intense treatment and an extended hospital stay during Thanksgiving, so she had requested they do that traditional dinner on Easter instead.

Since her rediagnosis in July, Will and Pumpkin had flown up to Wisconsin a few times, for Christmas mainly, and had watched her decline. This trip would be different, their time would be extended by a few weeks, and as dinner began, they realized how beneficial their stay would be.

♡ ♡ ♡

Will was pleased with how well Pumpkin continued to mesh with his sister's family. She loved the kids, she was considerate of Erin and her every need, and made sure everyone had eaten and was taken care of.

The evening began to slow, and the kids set a movie onto the television softly as Pumpkin moved to the sink to begin doing dishes, even at Erin's insistence that her family could take care of it.

"Hey Pumpkin." Spooky kissed her cheek, beginning to rinse and dry the dishes.

"Hey, love." Her voice was soft and affectionate as she smiled at him.

A few minutes later, Will had turned around to put something away, and Erin nodded softly.

The dishes were almost done. He was running out of time.

But as the silverware came through, it all became clear. His hand 'slipped' and dropped a fork, and it made her chuckle.

This was it. This was his moment as his knee hit the floor. He took her hand in his after he had pulled the box out of his pocket.

It was only a matter of moments before she noticed he didn't need her hand for balance.

The gasp that escaped her throat as her eyes darted between his stance and the box in his hands was everything Will could have wanted and more.

"Pumpkin, sweetheart, I have been waiting an eternity for you. You have painted my world in color and I cannot imagine life without you by my side." He opened the ring box, provoking her tears. "Will you do the honor of marrying me?"

"I will." She smiled, watching as Will put the ring on her finger. Her forehead met his the moment he stood to take her into his arms, and as their lips met, Erin and her family clapped from the living room.

"I knew waiting for you was worth a million heartaches." Pumpkin whispered.

"We'll never be parted again." Will whispered back.

After another few moments to themselves, Erin's children were insistent on seeing their new aunt's ring, asking if they could help with wedding planning, asking if they could come and stay in Arizona. It made Will's heart soar with pride as he watched her interact with his nieces and nephews.

Mrs. MacPherson. It was written in the way she moved, the flicker of light in her eyes every time they landed on him, the sparkle of the ring on her finger that looked so at home there. It was in way she held him like there was no other thing on the earth more precious to her. Yes, this was the right decision.

Pumpkin moved to hug Erin, wiping her tears.

"I've been waiting so long." Erin chuckled, trying to blink away the emotion spilling from her eyes. "William has always looked for someone he could feel safe with. I'm just lucky it ended up being someone who I consider a sister. I can see how much he loves you - and how well you take care of him and treat him with the respect and tenderness he's needed since we were kids."

"He's my everything. And you have been there for me since the beginning, Erin. I don't know what I would have done without you." Pumpkin squeezed her hand.

"We have waited a long time. But now, I get to call you my sister. And that brings a peace to me I don't think I've ever known before. I know you'll take such good care of him." Erin chuckled, her knuckle running along her bottom eyelids again. "Feels like I'm finally able to give him away to someone who knows how to handle his heart."

"I promise, Erin, I'll take care of him. And we'll come and see you often, even after we're married."

Erin gave her a soft smile, fingers tightening softly around hers. "I know you will. I trust you. And I love you."

♡ ♡ ♡

Three days. Three days of peace, tentative wedding planning, and packing up more of Pumpkin's house into a moving truck.

That's all it had taken.

"I wish it wasn't snowing, it's the beginning of April, and we don't even get to enjoy the sunshine!" Pumpkin's fingers were soft on Spooky’s cheek as he swayed them to some music from her record player.

"It does feel unfair. But..." He chuckled, humming the tune of a Christmas song.

"No, don't you dare. It'll make the snow want to stay!" She giggled.

Will's phone began to ring on the counter, and after pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, released her from his arms to answer.

Erin's husband's voice immediately wiped the smile from his face.

He had never expected his life to be completely changed within a sentence.

The words coming over the telephone made his ears ring. Made him numb, tired, confused.

No. No she wasn't. She couldn't be.

"Will, what's happening?" Pumpkin asked again, concern filling her gaze.

Spooky shook his head, setting the phone onto the counter and turning away. When she picked up the phone with her usual ginger touch, he waited. Waited for the moment she'd know too.

The gasp that left her throat was enough to pull the pooling tears from his eyes, and his shoulders shook with the effort of expelling them.

"Thank you. We'll be right over." Her constricted throat barely let out a tone as she hung up the phone.

Wrapping her arms around him from behind, she nuzzled into his back and sobbed.

A symphony of sadness, their cries reached what felt like a sky of cold stone - no astronomical amount of grief could bring Erin back.

She was gone.

♡ ♡ ♡

The following Saturday was a blur, gloomy and devoid of any light that hope could bring. No, nothing could change things now. The cold was only amplified with the snow falling on top of everyone who had gathered at the cemetery.

After the service, Will went and knelt in front of the stone Erin had apparently already prepared for several months. The carved stone served as yet another twist in his stomach that she had known this was coming for such a long time, and hadn't said a word.

And, perhaps, it was his engagement to Pumpkin that she had been holding on for, as the state of her illness could have taken her much earlier than an early morning in April. Maybe the reason she had lived so long was because she had wanted Will to be taken care of.

Maybe if he hadn't proposed to Pumpkin, she would still be around.

His fiancée came and put a hand on his shoulder, her words not registering in his ears as emotions flooded his mind.

"Please, just..." Will shrugged her hand from his shoulder. "...let me be."

Pumpkin stood there for just another moment, her own tears of grief still falling, before standing and taking a few steps away from Will. "I'll be in the car."

The rest of the crowd had dispersed, leaving Will alone, crouched in the snow. He cried for what felt like a forever.

"You weren't supposed to go, Erin. You were supposed to stay... why didn't you stay?" He whispered, his hand touching the cold stone that held her name - the only physical thing in the cemetery that would lead him to her.

"I love you, Erin. Thank you." His forehead touched the stone, wishing he could have instead wrapped his arms around her one more time, instead of talking to carved rock.

Will was there for a long time. He had almost expected to have to take a bus home when he had decided he was finished - but there Pumpkin was, faithful as she had ever been, the exhaust steaming out the back of the running car. It would be warm, and that sounded lovely after freezing in the snow.

But Will would freeze in the snow any day for much longer, if he could just have his sister back.

The door unlocked as he drew closer, and he opened it to find a blanket draped over the heaters.

"I thought it might warm you up. Get in, let's go home." Pumpkin said carefully. Will noticed her tone was even more gentle than usual.

He sat in the passenger seat without a word, and she tried to move the blanket.

"I've got it." Will's tone came as more of a snap than he intended, and he noticed how fast her hand moved back to her half of the cab. Before he could apologize, she was speaking again.

"Buckle up. It's icy." The car slowly maneuvered out of the cemetery, and after his last glance at Erin's spot on the hill, his gaze watched Pumpkin as she drove them home.

He knew she was hurting - it was in the way her shoulders tensed, the way her eyes hadn't been anything but red since the early morning they had found out about Erin's passing. Her usual tapping of the steering wheel had stopped, and she didn't turn the radio on for the full half an hour drive home.

The blanket did help Will warm up, although even with her consideration of his temperature, the air in the cab of the car was heavy. Tangibly melancholy.

Will didn't try to talk to her as they pulled into her driveway. His eyes wandered to the for sale sign out front, but even the thought of their future together wasn't enough to help him feel better.

Pumpkin made him tea, warmed up a quilt or two in the dryer, and had set a sandwich on the nightstand of his preferred side of the bed while he showered. But the moment he came out, finally feeling like he could maybe have a conversation, she closed the door to the bedroom and went out into the main living area.

Healing wasn't going to be linear.

♡ ♡ ♡

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series masterlist

#world in color #val kilmer #william macpherson #will macpherson #will ‘spooky’ macpherson #spooky #spooky and pumpkin #conspiracy #conspiracy 2008 #spooky x pumpkin #spooky x reader

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bultaoreunheyyy · 1 year

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Yoongi has the sniffles

Title: Yoongi has the sniffles

Word Count: 1,381

Summary: Yoongi definitely isn’t coming down with a cold, but if he was, he’s got a lot of people to take care of him. OT7 platonic or poly, depending on how you read, and I decided to use some details from a lakehouse au I’m working on for AO3 :) Written for the prompt below!

Prompt: yoongi denying having a cold but the other members taking care of him and him just accepting it because he secretly likes it

A/N: thank you @bts-snz for your prompt and your kind words <3

ps. I tried to think of a title for way too long before I finally gave up 😂

It’s a chilly, peaceful morning on the lake, everything quiet and still except for a couple of ducks swimming near the shore. The weather is changing, leaves on the trees just beginning to change colors. Yoongi shuffles out onto the wraparound porch and takes his usual spot facing east. He cradles his mug of coffee close to his chest. It’s cold outside, colder than he prepared for, so he’s just in a t-shirt and sweatpants, and he shivers a little, sniffling and tucking his feet underneath him to keep his feet warm.

This part of his day is always his favorite. He loves to be awake before everyone else, loves how quiet the world can be when everyone else is asleep. He sits out on the porch looking out over the lake for a good hour most mornings, sometimes reading but sometimes just taking in the serenity of it all.

About thirty minutes later, the front door opens, and Yoongi hears footsteps approaching. He doesn’t have to look to know it’s Jimin, who’s probably just-awake and nursing his own cup of coffee. Sure enough, Jimin rounds the corner a second later, wrapped up in a thick blanket, hair sticking up in all directions.

“Morning, hyung,” he says, yawning. “It’s cold out today.”

“Mmm.”

Jimin settles next to him, eyeing his short sleeves. Yoongi sniffles– he can’t stop sniffling. The cold air is making his nose run and it’s numbing his ears and his nose and his cheeks.

“HSHCH-eh!”

Yoongi sniffs hard, and he and Jimin blink at each other, both surprised by the sudden sneeze.

“Are you coming down with a cold or something?” Jimin tilts his head to one side, worried. He stands, taking the blanket off and wrapping it around Yoongi’s shoulders instead. “I have some vitamin C tablets you can take.”

“No, I’m fine,” Yoongi quickly denies, but Jimin is already hurrying inside.

He reappears only a few minutes later with Yoongi’s water bottle, a vitamin C tablet, and a couple of throat lozenges. He sets them wordlessly on the small table to Yoongi’s left, and then gives him a quick kiss to the top of his head before heading back inside.

When Yoongi goes back into the house ten minutes later, he’s surprised to see that Namjoon isn’t reading at the kitchen table like he usually is. Instead, he’s walking through the living room with three boxes of tissues in his arms, depositing them around like they regularly keep three boxes of tissues in the living room alone, and when he realizes someone is watching him he freezes, eyes wide.

“Good morning, hyung,” he eventually says with a sheepish smile.

He carries the last tissue box into the kitchen and places it on the kitchen table, blushing a little, and Yoongi wants to tease him, wants to make him explain why he’s putting tissues in the kitchen, except he could really use a tissue right about now.

So, after Namjoon settles back at the table with his coffee and his book, Yoongi plucks a tissue from the box and sniffles into it. Namjoon doesn’t look up from his book, but the corners of his mouth turn up just slightly, his dimples appearing.

Yoongi can tell that Jimin has already spread rumors about the cold that he’s definitely not coming down with to everyone else, because when Seokjin shuffles into the kitchen to make breakfast, he first makes a cup of tea. He places the cup in front of Yoongi, even though he already has his coffee, and then picks up Yoongi’s water bottle to refill it even though it’s still more than half full.

“Thanks,” Yoongi says with a sigh, rolling his eyes, but when he sips the tea it feels good on his throat– he must have been thirstier than he realized.

As everyone trickles into the kitchen for breakfast, which Seokjin is making on the stove, Yoongi still feels cold. He hasn’t quite warmed up all the way yet, and he realizes he’s shivering a little even after drinking all of the hot tea. When Jungkook makes a beeline for him and gives him a back hug, Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing, but he’s not going to say anything because the warmth from Jungkook’s hug feels heavenly.

“Morning, hyung,” Jungkook says, hooking his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder. He nuzzles into the side of Yoongi’s neck and his face feels nice and warm.

“Morning, Kook,” Yoongi replies as he tries to suppress another shiver.

Breakfast is ready shortly after. Jungkook groans about having to let go of Yoongi and sit properly at the table, but he does, scooting his chair close so he can press himself right up against Yoongi’s side. Yoongi is touched, if a little suspicious, by the extra affection. Jungkook is always very tactile, but usually when it’s meal time, he focuses on food and food alone.

Taehyung comes and drops himself into Jungkook’s lap after breakfast.

“Hyung,” he says, leaning over so he can rest his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Will you come watch a movie with me?”

“I have work to do,” Yoongi says automatically– he has no idea if he actually has work to do or not. Taehyung gives him his best pout, and over his shoulder, Jungkook gives him a little pout too.

“But it’s Saturday,” Taehyung protests. “Let’s be lazy!”

Yoongi doesn’t really have it in him to fight it. He follows Taehyung to the living room and finds Hoseok already on the couch in a nest of blankets, smiling in their direction with such cheeriness that Yoongi can’t help but smile back. Hoseok pats the couch next to him, and he sits down, sinking into the comfortable cushion with a sigh. Taehyung sits on his other side, and the two of them lean into him, cuddly and warm.

They start the movie, and Jungkook comes into the living room a few minutes later, sitting at Yoongi’s feet so he can lean back against his legs– he always claims he likes to sit on the floor to watch movies, something Yoongi and his back do not agree with.

The longer Yoongi just sits there, the more exhausted he feels. His body is heavy, and a little achy, and he still hasn’t really warmed up, not even with Hoseok’s and Taehyung’s body heat on either side of him. His nose also hasn’t stopped running, and it’s starting to become a problem. He can only sniffle so much, and he’s already holding back on that because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. But eventually, it gets to be too much, and the next time he sniffles, two things happen: First, his drippy nose just keeps on dripping instead of stopping, and second, the sharp intake of air makes his nose tickle, so suddenly and so intensely that he knows he’s going to sneeze and he’s not going to be able to stop it.

He can’t help the involuntary whimper that he makes at how rapidly the sneeze builds, or the way his breath hitches wildly against his control. He’s embarrassed that both sounds catch everyone’s attention, but it’s enough for Jungkook to grab a tissue from the conveniently placed tissue box from the coffee table and twist around to offer it to him, and just in time.

“HSHCH’iew! Huhh…hrRSHSH-eh!”

“Ah! Buh-less you,” Hoseok says, a little startled even with the slight warning.

Jungkook places the entire box of tissues into Taehyung’s lap so they’re within Yoongi’s reach. Jungkook, Taehyung and Hoseok are all sharing looks with each other, but Yoongi is suddenly too tired to care. He grabs another tissue from the box and holds it to his nose, sniffling.

Between Jungkook’s warm back against his legs, Taehyung curled up on his left side, and Hoseok petting his hair back in soft, soothing motions, he doesn’t stand a chance to make it to the end of the movie; he starts to fall asleep sitting almost completely upright, and he’s only vaguely aware of someone pulling his hand away from his nose and easing the used tissue out of his fingers, and then someone dabbing at his runny nostrils with a fresh tissue, and then he surrenders to the pull of sleep feeling very loved and cared for.

#bts sickfic #bts snz #sickfic #sick bts #sick yoongi #caretaker taehyung #caretaker jimin #caretaker jungkook #caretaker namjoon #caretaker seokjin #caretaker hoseok

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silenttale22 · 10 months

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FALL FOR YOU |JHS|

Hoseok x Reader Genre: Angst, Lovers to Exes Warnings: Kinda toxic relationship, swearing Note: Hi Sweetheart, thank You for being here! This one means really a lot for me...and honestly while writing it I've been crying ugly...so yeah, hope you'll enjoy!

You started it too fast and lost yourself in the moment instead of trying slowly. Instead of finding your souls, you just looked at the bodies, felt only superficial emotions- why?

It all seemed so innocent at first, you couldn't even think it would appear as something more than a friendship and emotions connected only on this level... How possibly you could predict that one meeting would change everything? That someone you've known for some time would make you feel so strongly, so different.

The conversation that day was smooth and extremely warm, your lips could not shut up because of the comfort his person evoked. His smile sticks together your pieces torn by life, a gentle voice bringing a state of relaxation.

The evening was cold, with chilly wind rubbing against your cheeks, and red noses yet still looking into the shining eyes as if you were meant to be. His smile charmed you in every possible way, and these two little dimples in his cheeks melted you truly. In literally four hours, your life was completely different and you couldn't understand whether it was because you were in love for the first time or because you were finally happy.

Yet love and happiness not always go together. But it wasn't on your mind then.

When his hands were around your waist, his lips were making tiny kisses on the cheeks, and you felt like you were drifting through the air. Everything he did seemed right for you at the time. Intoxicated by his presence, you blindly let yourself be rapt by an excess of feelings, only to be left with nothing. Overwhelmed with unfamiliar feelings, you didn't know you'd finally fall.

When, in the end of the meeting, you heard his plea;

"Please, never fall in love with me...."

For a long time, it was really hard for you to tell if what happened to you with a dark-haired boy could be called destiny. Even the idea of lost soul mates crossed your mind because you thought you were fitting in just the right way. It seemed to be the shelter and warmth you'd been looking for so long. It seemed like the kind of music you loved to play. He was like lines from your favorite books and poems that you quoted from memory.

But was he the final step in making the choreography breathtaking and the whole performance ended with thunderous applause?

You weren't so sure.

After an extraordinary walk, you heard the news that all this time - the boy who both promised and denied himself - had been taken by some other girl. He was in a relationship with someone, when you thought he was already yours. How would you have known they'd shift their behavior right after coming to know that you fill in the blanks about everything now? Why his voice was now filled with sadness and anger?

During that time, you felt him slipping from your fingertips even though he was never yours, you saw your paths split. But eventually left with eyes filled with tears of shame and disappointment. Right person, the wrong time you could say. But was it really true?

You were furious, your blood boiling, and, to be totally honest, you were mad at yourself, not at him. Because you made yourself hopeful, ignoring the fact that it was caused by his actions towards you. You were mad that you couldn't keep someone with you yet again, but isn't it like if he really loved, he never would've done it?

One message can change everything, right? To give you a heart attack, to give you the best of serendipity, or to die. One message can lead you to a state of helplessness, hands trembling with fear, and a sudden surge of emotion will lead you to a real disaster.

You were on your way to work, and your mood was unusual - It all felt as if you were stuck. Didn't feel sadness, or joy either. In a way, you were filled with an emptiness that you couldn't pinpoint. Your heart was still longing for him, you missed his touch, his voice, him.

When the news that the boy broke up with someone because of you - getting information about it from the girl herself, made body snatched with fear. You couldn't breathe then, and your eyes were filled with tears because you felt guilty. Because you could only guess what pain the other person might be going through.

But you quickly lost yourself in empty words. Full of hope and selfishness. He broke up with her, assuring that he felt the same way about you as you do about him. That you seem to be the love of his life. That he'll try to stay with you forever.

It was a time when you could sleep at night. Where usually sleep could not come, and you had laid all night staring at the ceiling - that was the time when his evening calls, though maybe you could call them night calls because they were usually around 1:00 or 2:00 a. m. , when he ended the gaming season with his friends always remembering you and putting you to sleep with his calm voice. When you heard every night how much he missed you, how much he wanted to hold you, or how much he couldn't wait to hear your voice, happiness stretched out your chest. You felt so important to someone for the first time in your life.

Your college halls and the paths on which you walked to work were filled with endless happiness. The corners of your mouth raised on their own, your music became more upbeat and happy. It became simpler for people to make you laugh. Everyone noticed that you were acting almost oddly. Your clothes have changed from black to a wider range of hues as if you've thrown away a long-lasting grief that was extremely hard to let go of. Your calmness was surprising - you didn't get angry as often as you probably would have used to, and bothersome customers or an annoying manager couldn't ruin your 'perfect' humor. You turned into a totally different person in just a few days as if you switched personalities with a complete stranger overnight. And, after a while, the question came up: was it the real you, or just another version created for the particular occasion?

And that is how in such a short time, Hoseok became your anchor and your torture.

The very next day you could expect a text from him a short “Have a pleasant day, I love you”, making your heart beat faster and the smile couldn't come off your face. You were obsessively enchanted with him. His goofy but at the same time amusing, attention to detail. He remembered a lot about you, at least for the first few days, and such small gestures made your heart go crazy. When he leaned his forehead against yours and looked straight in the eye over and over again making sure it was you and only you. When he brushed your hair with affection because he loved to look at the pinkish cheeks. When he stood under your staircase for a few minutes because he didn’t want to go yet didn't want to let you go, to write you a few messages on his way home ‘thank you for the meeting and how amazing it was’. Writing ‘you're making me feel unique and the happiest person alive’. That you're the one who saved him.

But who was now to save you?

Evening walks under the stars, which you always dreamed of, became a reality, and he was intrigued by your knowledge of the constellations in the sky. A lot of times, you were sitting in the park, dressed in the warmest clothes, and all he could ask was the name of one or another of the star systems, and you were more than happy when he asked because you hoped he was really interested.

Slow walks down the river, you laughing, walking on the wall holding his hand that was supposed to prevent you from falling, even though you eventually fell into his arms drowning in the incredible shades of his eyes. His little finger intertwined with yours was like a permanent promise, a promise where he said he'd stick around after all. . . you wanted it to be true. When he asked about your favorite books because he wanted to buy you maybe one or two for your birthday. When he promised to play games together and after that maybe watch a movie with hot tea in your hands.

How you wanted it all to be true.

You could never stand physical contact, it made you dizzy and added extra stress you already had enough. You've never been able to calm your thoughts. They wandered as they wished, never giving you a moment's respite, bringing you to such a highly bad mental state that many times you thought you couldn't go on like this and it would all be over. He was like a switch to all these thoughts, and the touch was soothing - you felt like you were in a private heaven. . . how could you know it would turn into hell again?

He even blinded all your closest friends. Everyone said he seemed like the perfect candidate for a life together. After all, “he chose you, that must mean something. ”

“Maybe he's your little destiny?”

“He seems so great! I`m happy that you are happy!”

And you were blinded enough to spend less time with friends because you wanted to be with him. When your life was circling around him like he was someone you couldn't really breathe without.

Oh, how naive you were all. Like blinded by a fake smile and pretty words.

He became important too soon. Before you could see it all start to fall apart in front of your eyes. When the calls weren't regular, when the news got cold, and he started to drift away. You felt something was wrong, but for so long you were afraid to ask, because it hurt. Your thoughts started racing again, and your head was about to explode. It was all too beautiful, too real, and too much taken right off the pages of the book.

Nothing was possible to rescue.

Love is one of the strongest feelings we experience. It can be as powerful as sadness or anger. It can be astonishing, insane. It can bring waves of happiness and glimpses of hope for a better tomorrow. It can kill, though.

And you could never think about someone as a coward, but how can you think about him differently now? When only one night (which was so unsure and filled with mixed emotions) made him change his mind? And if it wasn't only this night, then why did he behave the way he did? Why his eyes were still shiny and big while looking at you, why you still was able to hear how loud heart beats next to you? Is that stress? Is that fear?

He promised to stay, saying that forever is a very long time but he was ready to try his best, so where is he now? When you're sitting alone, look at how the darkness appears when the sun hides behind so many clouds as if it had never been so high in the sky. Sitting here alone at your place, without the strength for tears, numbly looking at how lanterns are lighting up. And it hurts. The place where you promised everything will be okay, and the place where I exactly knew it was going to be over.

And now it only hurts, because he disappeared - leaving you with all the lies. The evenings when he said he cares so much, that his heart is so pure, and don't want to hurt anyone. Saying on repeat that he doesn't want to leave you here alone after all of this, with your thoughts, that you can count on him, even after the breakup - because yeah, he did break up with you.

Calling one night, speaking up after a few quiet minutes before you yanked information from him that you might have guessed a long time ago.

“Sorry but, I still, I am still attached to her. I think, think I should make up with her. She`s important” and your heart was shattered again, because what about you?

You weren't important now?

You never were enough, were you?

“Yeah sure, I'll be fine” you responded with calmness in your voice but tears were already streaming down your cheeks.

“I really didn't mean to hurt you or anyone around me, but I'm fucked up enough to hurt everyone. I'm sorry I made you feel bad, I'm sorry I'm a jerk and a loser. But please, don't hate me.” You could barely stop yourself from a pathetic scoff.

What wrong you did do, what you could have done to make things different, and why does it all have to end this way?

“You know what Hoseok, I'm not angry, I don't hate you, I can't find negative emotions towards you right now. I'm disappointed, though. Because I trusted you. Repeating over and over again that I'm afraid to enter into such relationships.” You said in a single breath, but everything was burning. "I'm feeling weak and ill with myself for letting myself feel any emotions." Saliva was hard to swallow, and the rising tension in the air was driving you crazy.

He could've just ended the conversation. Because what to explain something that is no longer there.

“You can say that you're not mad, you're not angry and I'm not saying I don't believe you but that's probably what's happening. That you're angry, disgusted and you hate me. I'm sorry that I violated your trust and that in a few hours, I put you in an awful place, and I really regret that.” and now you just scoffed, wishing to smash the phone against the wall in front of you

“I'm not angry, I'm not disgusted either. I couldn't hate you, okay? I'm just disappointed. . . that's all." you took a deep breath "There is no longer feel of sadness or pain, these emotions have already been smashed, worn out. It's a pity that the words spoken by you are now only empty words.” you took another deep breath to continue but it was so hard for you to do that properly. It was swallow and your throat hurts from dryness. “That your “I love you” has been just said like normal words without meaning. That I fell in love with you all, that I accepted everything you called faults. . . that everything I, I never thought that important may turn out to be nothing for you. That it was all for waste.

Your voice was filled with disappointment and resignation, but there was still anger in the back of your head that you were trying to stop. Meanwhile, you managed to knock off his smelling blue hoodie and kick it into the farthest corner of your room.

“I never lied, and these were not empty words to me. Those days were wonderful, I felt special, and it was really a strong attraction, so strong that I turned everything upside down." he said quickly, making you bite your lips to blood. Screaming inside. "I felt different with you, my heart was beating, I wanted to spend time with you, I couldn't think about anything else. But in the end, all my emotions vanished and thoughts came in and I ruined everything.” You snorted, now walking around the room and punching the air because of this pathetic conversation. A loud ring in your ears made you fight for yourself for once.

“And you're lying to me again Hoseok! All I wanted from you was truth yet you still lying! ” You couldn't stop scream leaving your lips. Cheeks were burning, and the whole pillow you held for a moment, all soaked in tears, was lying on the ground.

“I am not. You will be important to me and I will remember you no matter what. You made me feel love for you.”

There was a loud silence after that. You couldn't explain what happened to you. Your frustration was rising, yet you believed everything was fine. But then your hands start shaking and loud sobs filled the dark room. The phone almost fell out of your hand. Before you clenched your fist and took a deep inhale, another bullet came out of your mouth.

“If you feel love, you'd never do that. It's not just feeling, and you can't, you can't just say 'felt' in the past tense! If it was love, you wouldn't have made that decision so fast. Love, and emotional attachments are two different things. So think thoughtfully about where you sense only love in addition to the attachment. You're not over us and I don't know what you're trying to do… are you lying to me or to yourself now? Why won't you just admit you want love in a different way?” You felt like you were trying to glue it all back together without any effect. You were tired of saving every relationship that was on the line, yours or someone else's. You weren't a fucking psychologist or a therapist or anything. You've just had enough.

“What is a different way? I've backstabbed the people I care about. I apologize to you. I fail at every possible moment.” he said quieter, hearing how unstable your breath is again and again.

“I'm not the one to answer it. You have to compare the love you received and decided which one made u really you. And it's not only about happiness. Love means to hurt, but the one, when you feel like yourself, is the true one” you answered and ended the call.

Like ended everything around.

He left when you needed him the most. You were with him till the fucking end. As you promised. You supported him no matter what. You were there for him even when you exactly knew he was going to end it all. You hold him so tight, trying not to cry just to give him enough strength to fight. But a small part of you hoped he will fight for both of you, not for her. And the worst for you is now that you still cannot get over him.

Months passed, and you often couldn't stop thinking. You've been having nightmares about him, even though your keeping in touch is practically gone. There was no message. There was no talk. The Hoseok once thought you knew was gone. He walked past pretending he didn't know you. Whenever there was a chance for you to meet, he would bring his girlfriend with him, who would drill a hole in your head every time, making you leave the room full of discomfort.

You felt faded.

You still cannot give up on him this easily as he did on you. You don't want to admit to yourself that he left just like this. You cannot believe there wasn't a chance for both of you, you hoped that maybe if he really wanted to try… everything would be different. But he is a coward.

And you always thought it was you, but no, not this time…because you were ready to do a lot for him. And he maybe told you once, that it's too fast, that you can`t just fell that quick. And maybe he was right, maybe you never really fell for him.

Now you don't even know what to think about it all.

You're not mad because he left, that he broke up with you. You never wanted to take away his freedom, always wanted him to be happy, independent, and himself…but he decided to come back to her. Give her even more love because it was his fault that they couldn't make it last time.

Why?

Does she tell you what were you doing wrong? Or did she understand how wrong was she? Does she know how you felt every time she pulled you down? Does she understand now how much care you need and how much support you need?

You gave him everything but he still left you with nothing.

It will be the third year since you two split ways. Your heart is getting ready to let go. Simply because if he had been actually meant for you, he surely would've arrived long ago, but your hand was still alone in your pocket, and your fingertips were no longer intertwined with anyone else's. You often hoped that your endless chaos about him would fade, and you would be able to make an effort to open yourself up to new people and new experiences once more.

This, unfortunately, was not the case.

The inner being still missed him, the sorrow tearing through the chest and causing it to seem as if it was a fragment of the detached soul begging for his return. But you tucked your grief and sadness in your back pocket, putting on a cold expression to hide some type of paled-in color eyes that didn't sparkle like they used to. The dark clothes were put back on, and the old smile was barely seen on the lips.

Every tiniest brush of the edges of memories about him brought everything back. Since you couldn't move forward, cold sweat went down your back and your breath was constantly choking out your throat.

The walks you took became longer, the books you read ended up being sadder, and the poems you wrote for some time were tough on the gut.

How desperately you wished to be free of it.

You wanted to get rid of yourself more and more because the emptiness inside you was tearing you apart and you couldn't even bring your old self back. The one that came before the untrue assurances and fake 'I love you'. It felt as if you didn't exist, as if you were floating through the streets like the worst ghost, with all of your clear wounds and stabs.

Aggression was the only trait that showed up again. You reacted to situations very quickly, but it often wasn't an adequate reaction. Your lips were shooting out so many uncomfortable words in one minute that you were staring at the person in front of you with your eyes wide open at the end of your speech because you had no idea what had just come out of your mouth. Anger also expressed itself against you. Your knuckles were becoming more frequently bruised as you smashed a wall within fits of rage, numbly watching the blood trickle down your fingers.

You were growing frightened of who you were becoming.

You cried, cried another night when you couldn't stop the streams from falling down, making you feel like a miserable person. You heard that crying because of the urge is healing, that it is some kind of self-care, yet why you felt so bad because of that? Weeping like a child that wishes for something big, but eventually, you bumped your face against a high wall covered with the marks of your bloody claws, with which you tried to carve out a way through. Your screams and begs only echoed off the red bricks hitting you with redoubled force. It was like a repeating nightmare.

It's so dark here, and you were falling again. Is there even a slight brushstroke of significance on another painted picture? When all you can see is red and nothing seems to be understood. Everything over and over repainted with different shades, scarlet mixed with salty tears. It's like raising anger to just give up again hitting every possible obstacle.

Your eyes are shining now, but it's not because of his light or his delightful figure. It's the malaise that torments you mercilessly not letting catch a breath. Who are you? Where is your soul? Where is the person you used to be? When all of this will be gone?

Another panic raise in your veins, do you have to cry to mollify the pain? Head is spinning, are you going to fall again? And again, and again - deeper and deeper when the dark hole seems like something endless. Nothing feels right, all you can feel is wrath. All you can ask yourself is why you let yourself fall.

Sitting in the middle of the park, taking up one of the benches after walking all the shared paths, the pain ripped you apart once again. It has been so long, so why is it still so unmercifully painful? What lessons do you still have to go through to free yourself from endless agony? What do you need to do to not feel his presence day in and day out by your side?

Hoseok was gone, so why couldn't you?

Why did his scent still linger in certain parts of your apartment, why did his voice still appear in your head?

The trees swaying from the gentle wind put you in a dreamlike state, you watched them with emptiness in your eyes without feeling anything. The grayish world seemed, even more, depressed by the darkening sky and the lack of any light through the moon's miserly attempt to break through the layer of clouds. However, you still reached out with your eyes to the bright glow, thinking if, at least sometimes, shared memories also run through his head. Or does he sometimes visit common places, or occasionally smell your scent?

The questions kept you guessing, and oh how you wished you could find a question for at least one.

"What the fuck did I do wrong" you snarled to yourself, grabbing your head and extracting your hair bobbing not wanting to believe that all this is really happening "I tried my best for you, I would had give everything… so where is this amazing empathetic boy I fell in love with".

"I assume he was just a regular jerk playing with your feelings." A quiet voice held your breath, and in a moment a pair of brown suede shoes stood right next to yours. Wide dark blue jeans half-covered them, and if it weren't for the fact that the voice seemed incredibly familiar, you might have complimented at least half of the outfit you saw.

Keeping your head from rising, the single tears continued to fall down your cheeks. That's because you felt as if you were losing yourself again in a moment that won't last. It's like endlessly running around in circles, looking for a rescue that isn't there, looking for a rope that was cut off long ago, and all the ladders pushed away from the edge over which you had been standing for several years wondering what it would be like to fall.

"He wasn't, don't you dare insult him," you hissed through your teeth, feeling the headache recur again and your hands clench painfully into fists

"How can you defend me after such a time" Once again a soft voice enters your ears, however, now you know why it seemed so familiar...

You lifted your head so that your eyes met those of the dark-haired boy. His face pulled down in fatigue, and his visible gray bags and hollow cheeks horrified you. The almost dead body of the man standing in front of you slumped heavily on the bench, not taking his eyes off you. You, however, could not speak up, were just watching him. There were so many things you wanted to do now, to scream, to re-explain, to punch at anything. Your emotions were tugging at you, yet you were still choking without being able to make a move.

"Because you don't understand Hoseok," you muttered after a moment, and before you could add anything you wiped the blood from over-biting lips with your light sleeve, "You think that for me all this was some kind of joke...that everything I said was just something. I won't say that all of this broke my heart, it was more like killing it and making the pieces I thought you were putting together, rip apart even more. What I can't understand is why you gave in so quickly then? Because I won't believe that you just stopped to feel..."

"I didn't stop, I never stopped though...fear, attachment..." the boy began to list, which only made you groan with nerves

"But your body language sold you when we saw each other for the last time. You know, the safest options are not always the best, and growth of your soul is never going to be easy. You have to understand that hurt is an absolutely normal emotion and no one can dodge it. Someone is going to be hurt yet please, one more time, choose yourself for once. Not everyone is around. Just you, just fucking you." you said with almost one breath, feeling yourself slowly running out of air in your lungs through the uneasy atmosphere

"But what if I want to choose you?" he stated so quietly that you could barely hear him, but when you carefully analyzed his words in your head, all that eventually came out of your mouth was a snort

"No. Because this will change nothing." you couldn't look at him, the stronger emotions kept disappearing long ago, and in some way you felt like breathing again "Everyone deserves their own lesson, and you're not mine anymore. I can hurt. But someday I'll learn to love myself, not what others pretend to love in me. I'll still love you, and you'll be a big part of me. But now we only need to draw conclusions"

"B-but, I love you," he added almost crying

"Shame it's not what I heard a few months ago," you said, standing up from the branch, looking for the last time at the boy's silhouette. “I tried to be honest, and you wanted to forget me. You were looking away when I talked and tried, I was there for you but where were you, huh? It's over. I am over.”

Saying this, the lump in your throat grew but your shoulders suddenly became lighter. The heavy feeling from your chest slowly began to disappear, and you were able to take a deeper-than-usual breath. You finally turned around and moved ahead, closing the door behind you, throwing away the key to never return to this again.

Jung Hoseok was now your past, and although to some extent he had shown you that you were worthy of love and someone who would be there for you. However, the more important thing you learned is that eventually, everything goes away, when you finally learn to put periods and not commas life looks easier. Waking up from the dream was difficult for you, and forgiving everyone around you and yourself both was even worse, but eventually, the blood red began to brighten, forming a warm pink.

Your aggression, which turned out to be just a veil for your fear and sadness, slowly faded away. And it turned out that all you needed was time. It's time to finally leave the last farewell kiss to the dreads and move on ahead. Hoseok was your fear and love at the same time. You knew you had to let go so you could start a new path, and now you understood why it was so hard for you to move ahead. You needed that last meeting. Not a conversation - an argument over the phone. You needed to see how he reacts, to say the last words face-to-face.

It was like a final confession.

Fear often cuts us off from who we really are, it's such a battle we have to fight every day.

A fight to remember who we are. To remember why we started.

#bts x reader #bts angst #bts fanfic #hoseok x reader #hoseok angst #hoseok fanfic #bts jhope #hoseok x you

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luckydragon10 · 2 years

Text

P&P Chapters 35 and 36

(Chapters 32, 33, 34)

Lots happened last time. Lots and lots. Score check:

Mr. Darcy, aka Mr. Bungles, dropped to -15.

Lizzy maintained her score at +25.

~~~

Chapter 35

Mr. Darcy: “I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?”

You were up all night writing that, weren't you? And you approach her, give her the letter, say your line, and walk off. That had better be the best-written letter of your whole damn life.

Big, big, big long honking letter. Lots to digest. But this one. OOHHHH, this one:

(Mr. Darcy) There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister’s being in town.

I hope Lizzy is as mad at you about this one as I am. Prat. Twat. How about a nice fat -10 points for you, jackass.

This is a LOT of info-dumping. I wonder whether Austen is going to immediately rush to set up new plot hooks to replace the ones that are getting cleared up right now.

Wicky, of course, is the wastrel I assumed him to be. Wow, there's still more to go about him, though.

I'm most of the way through the letter, and mainly I'm just wondering HOW this is all fitting on two pieces of paper and an envelope?!

Oh, yeah, trying to elope with Darcy's baby sister is worse. Nice one, Wicky. Be glad he left you alive.

Whew, okay, info dump received and processed. That was much.

~~~

Chapter 36

Was Elizabeth just standing or sitting around outside the entire time she read that novel of a letter?

But such as they were, it may well be supposed how eagerly she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited.

"A contrariety of emotion" -> I love this. This is basically me all the time.

With a strong prejudice against everything he might say, she began his account of what had happened at Netherfield.

Doop de doo. Just gonna leave that there.

His belief of her sister’s insensibility she instantly resolved to be false;

Okay, one thing I want to question is that if Mr. Darcy was carefully judging by appearances that Jane felt no affection for Mr. Bingley, what the hell measure was he using to determine whether Lizzy had affection for him? Or did he just throw his measuring stick out the window because he was in love?

She wished to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, “This must be false! This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!”—and when she had gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing anything of the last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would not regard it, that she would never look in it again.

I'm taking 5 points off for willful blindness. Look into it. He gave you a viable cross-reference.

*watches Lizzy slowly put things together about Wicky* Theeeeeere we go.

She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.

Okay, but just so long as you're not ashamed of calling him out about Jane, because he really did cock that up royally.

He declared himself to be totally unsuspicious of her sister’s attachment; and she could not help remembering what Charlotte’s opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Jane. She felt that Jane’s feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.

Mmmmm, I'm still on the other side of this. He STILL made an assumption about Jane's feelings without confirming that he was right.

...and as she considered that Jane’s disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before.

Darcy's off the hook, apparently, for butting his nose into Bingley and Jane's relationship. Meeehhhhhhh, dissatisfactory.

(Chapters 37 and 38)

#nemi reads p&p #pride and predujice #chapters 35 and 36

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

Text

Inktober day two: Guns

Prompt list by @totallyevan, here ;3c

me, realizing I have consistently forgotten to put my work on tumblr and that a bunch of drabbles have been rotting in my google docs (though admittedly only up to 4th bc my weekend was hectic af - I’ll try play catch up with the others but HERE WE GO)

His hands are sticky. Sticky and wet and slippery. He wants desperately to wipe his hands on his shirt, on a towel, on anything - but then he’d have to put down the gun that is pointed shakily at the man who has his arm wrapped around Klaus’s neck.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was just supposed to be a dumb outing with his idiot brother so that he would shut up about waffles while he was trying to work. He’d gotten Klaus to promise to not bother him in his room for an entire week if he just went with him to the hole in the wall diner that Klaus insisted was the best in the world.

Who the fuck robbed a shitty diner?

It had been three guys, and Five had noticed them from the moment they entered, seeing the glint of sunlight on gunmetal. His first immediate thought was that it was the Commission, because who else would show up in this random place at a time that just happens to be when Five is present? And he assumes that the Commission doesn’t want too much collateral damage - they waited for the tow truck driver to leave and Agnes to be in the back room before confronting him.

It’s only three guys, not the massive hit squad that invaded the concert hall. There was to be some measure of subtlety if they don’t want to draw too much attention to themselves.

But he assumes wrong.

The lead guy swing his gun up and shoots at the ceiling, making everyone panic. Five reacts automatically, grabbing Klaus and bodily shoving him down under the table. Klaus gives a cry of surprise, and pain where he smacks forehead and elbows against the table and seat, but Five doesn’t care about that right now. He just reacts.

He jumps to the lead goon, and grabs the gun to wrench up and away. The butt of the gun slams into the guy’s face, bone crunching and blood flying. Five broke his nose. The guy stumbles away. Five doesn’t have time to address that before the second guy is on him.

The rifle Five has in his hands is big and dramatic, but not exactly handy for close quarter combat. To be fair, no guns are handy for close quarter combat, which was exactly why Five generally preferred to fight that way. But it’s at least handy as a weird shaped baton which Five slams into the stomach of the second guys and makes him double over.

The first guy recovered and Five bring up the rifle again to slam it into the guy’s face for a second time, making him stumble backwards with both hands over his face with a shout. With the extra room it’s easier to bring up the gun and shoot the second guy in the leg.

The first guy gets his hands on the gun and pulls, and Five doesn’t bother to try and overpower him. The dude is big and muscular, and Five is a scrawny teen. He’s well aware of his strengths and weaknesses. He fights smarter, not harder.

The guy stumbles back, not expecting the lack of resistance. Five takes this wonderful opportunity to grab one of the little diner forks that fell to the floor in the initial panic of the men entering. In Five’s opinion it’s a handier weapon that the gun - more versatile.

Five surges forward and lashes out, burying the fork into the leader’s shoulder. It has the added bonus of the guy dropping the gun with a howl, hand going to the fork and wrenching it out. Weaponized, the guy lurches towards Five.

And Five? He jumps. He snags another fork off a nearby table and pops up behind the guy and buries a second fork in the guy’s junction between shoulder and neck and twists before stooping and scooping up the gun again.

He points it at the two and they raise their hands in surrender, but then he hears a cough behind him and remembers that there were three guys.

Five turns, and the third guy has his arm wrapped around Klaus’s neck, a handgun pointed at Five’s brother’s temple with a hand that shakes.

“D-drop the gun!” The new guy shouts, voice cracking in his nervousness, “Or I shoot this guy!”

Five’s hands are covered in blood. It would be so easy to let the rifle slip from his fingers. The leader is crouched down with his two stab wounds and blood streaming down his face from a twice broken nose, the second guy is on the floor in a puddle of blood pressing his hands against the hole that Five put in his thigh.

The third guy’s hands shake, and Five watches the pointed finger twitch against the trigger with more attention than he’s given anything else today.

They’re amateurs. They’re three goons who are complete idiots for trying to rob a tiny diner in broad daylight. They don’t know what they’re doing.

Five would have preferred professionals. He knows how the Commission operates. He knows how professionals work, what they know their best options to be, what they’re likely to do next. These guys, Five can’t predict.

Five’s fingers tighten around the gun, and he doesn’t drop it.

“What?” Five calls back, arching an eyebrow. The tried and true method of being a brat. “Why would I drop my weapon? Why don’t you?”

“I- I’ll shoot this guy! You were sitting with him!” The guy sputters, looking very uncertain. Mercifully, Klaus stays silent. Whether that’s thanks to genuine intelligence or because the guy’s arm around Klaus’s neck is making it difficult to breathe is up for debate.

“You have one hostage.” Five says, nodding to Klaus, “I have two.” He gestures with the rifle towards the two goons who flinch away. “And both of these idiots are in need of medical attention, but if you drop the gun and don’t fuck with anyone else, then I don’t care what happens to you guys and I’ll stop attacking.”

“I have more that one hostage! I have the rest of the diner! I can just start shooting!” The idiot argues, taking the gun from Klaus’s temple to wave in the air to punctuate his point. It makes Five relax at least a tiny bit.

“A hostage is a person I care about saving.” Five tells the man bluntly, “There’s only one of those in here.”

Silence follows that statement. Some civilians are looking at him in shock, but honestly Five doesn’t care about them. He can’t care about them. If he looks too closely at people, he starts remembering bodies and trying to match faces to corpses. If he looks too closely, he starts thinking about the innocents he killed and the families and the bystanders and everything else he keeps locked inside of a little box in his heart.

He cares about seven whole people in the universe, and those people are his siblings and his mother.

It’s quick after that. The guy reads Five’s sincerity in his eyes, his lack of regard for the lives of the men behind him. Five only refrained from killing them because he was pretty sure they weren’t Commission agents and he didn’t want to have to deal with another one of Luther’s ‘murder is bad’ lectures. He surrenders, dropping the gun to the floor with a clatter and running over to his fellow robbers, pressing his hands against the wounds to keep pressure on.

Five doesn’t have time to wait for the sirens he can hear approaching. He hands his gun to the nearest civilian and jumps next to his brother.

“Come on Klaus,” He says urgently, tugging his brother’s elbow to steer them towards the back door. After seeing Five fight two adult men and stab one with forks, no one stops them.

Klaus follows easily. Way too easily. They make it all the way out the door before Klaus seems to reboot and bursts out with a loud, “You care about me!”

A quick glance reveals that Klaus is making the sappiest face Five has ever seen. He has to nip this in the bud. “No. I just don’t want to have to explain to Diego about how your idiocy finally got you murdered.”

“You said you care about me!” Klaus crows loudly, making Five hiss because quite frankly he’s still covered in blood and the only reason he isn’t just chain jumping home is because that would mean abandoning Klaus. “You said I was the only person you cared about in the diner!”

“I care about Mom’s disappointed face.” Five shoots back, dragging Klaus down another alley. “Though I’m caring less and less the more you open your mouth.”

“Hold up hold up!” Klaus cries, digging in his heels and bringing them both to a stop. He gives Five a critical once over, pursing his lips at the state of his brother. He looks like, well, like he’s been in a fight to the death with two armed robbers. “We need to do something about this if we don’t want to be stopped on the way home.”

Five scowls darkly. He really should just ditch Klaus and jump home, it’s the simplest and easiest solution. But for some reason, he can’t quite bring himself to let go of Klaus’s elbow that he’d been using to drag his taller sibling around by.

He startles badly when something brushes against his face, before realizing it’s Klaus scrubbing one of the sleeves on his black jacket over the blood splatter on Five’s cheek. Klaus hushes him, scrubbing harder.

It makes Five pull away, baring his teeth as he jumps and reappears a few feet away. He gets a certain amount of satisfaction watching Klaus almost overbalance - that’s what he gets for treating Five like a child.

Klaus huffs like Five is the one being unreasonable here.

Five is really giving some serious consideration to just jumping home by himself when Klaus starts stripping in the middle of the alley. Five gives his brother a face that clearly indicates his question of what the fuck.

This face becomes even more pronounced when Klaus thrusts his jacket out in Five’s direction.

After a solid minute of Five and Klaus staring at each other, Klaus sighs deeply. “Wear the jacket. It’s big enough to cover your shirt and hands which, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your entire torso kind of looks like you just auditioned for a shitty slasher film.”

Five can’t… exactly argue with that reasoning. He scowls, and snatches the jacket away and shrugging it on. It fits okay around the shoulders - Klaus is a skinny bastard - but it’s way too long and the sleeves go well past his hands. This is what they need, yes, but it makes Five feel like a little kid playing dress up which he’s not exactly appreciative of. He can’t even hike the sleeves up because, as Klaus so gracefully pointed out, his hands are covered in blood.

He deals with this by shoving his hands in the pockets, extra sleeve length and all, and vividly picturing stabbing Klaus in the face when he coos over his smaller brother.

“I hate you so much.” Five informs his brother, “Let’s just go.”

“Aw,” Klaus clasps his hands together and presses them to his cheek, gazing at Five like he just proclaimed his love for puppies. “I love you, too.”

#inktober #tua inktober #tua #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy inktober #number five #five hagreeves #klaus hargreeves #some chaotic brother bonding #five wishes all people were professional bc at least then he could count on them not making idiot choices #you bet that five is going to reconsider his stance on killing people even if they aren't commission agents sorry @ luther #but like if he was allowed to use lethal force he would have slaughtered all three dudes in like a heartbeat #i bet you a hundred dollars that later patch shows up at their door to stare the entire family down #as she tells them eyewitnesses indicated a scrawny teenager who came in with a scrawny adult went full terminator on some robbers #all while staring five down #five has already washed all the blood off him and burned his shirt to get rid of the evidence #so he just sticks his nose in the air and denies everything #klaus was probably freaked out after the thing happened #but honestly fussing over five and teasing him does wonders for Klaus's processing #if five knew that he'd probably tolerate it a bit better #but also maybe not

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Could I request a Bucky Barnes x reader smut? Basically she and Bucky have been together for some time and maybe it’d be a little angst where the two are talking about the future and Bucky not thinking he can ever have a normal future? Which would result in soft smut and later reader being revealed as pregnant so Bucky finally gets his family

I’m Home

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | based on the request ^^

Warnings | angst, smut, oral sex (m receiving), fluff, pregnancy, mentions of death

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

The Wilson’s boat rocked sturdily upon the water, swaying as the boats worked aboard. Your hand held the weight of a silver spanner, twirling it in your fist as though it were a knife, thinking of the long road ahead of you. Sam had the shield now, that was a good start, but still, there was a ways to go until the world recognised him as the captain that he was meant to be.

There was so much destruction ongoing in the world, what with the flag smashers, and whomever the power broker was, and surely, you knew on the shallow surface, that there would be masses more problems to arise. It was exhausting, to know that there was no end to the war on earth, and that you were surely going to be fighting the threats until you could no more.

Bucky felt the same; he had just gone from one war to another, losing everyone that he cared about along the way. Steve had given everything up to finally find peace, and yet, the two did not share the same opportunity. An escape was never laid at your feet, instead, the pair of you were trapped in the cycle of cruelty, being blended around in a shredder by reality.

“Hey.” A voice confiscated you from the lonesome containment of your thoughts; it was Sam’s hosting sister, Sarah. I’m her own way, though you doubted that she would never admit such a thing, she was a hero. She had become a widow, and not to mention she remained a stable mother to keep her boys afloat, as well as nurturing half the kids that lived within close proximity.

“Hi Sarah.” You put the tool down, giving her your ample attention as you stood, tugging your fingers into the loops of your jeans as you stepped out of the boat, and onto the dock. “Anything I can help with?” It hadn’t passed your attention that Sam and Bucky had disappeared, but not into ash like last time. Instead, they had walked off in the direction of the house, most likely meddling about with a ball, in the back yard with Jim and Jody.

“I just came to let you know I’ve made the sofa up for you and Bucky. Are you sure you’ll be all good, I could always kick Sam outta his bed and make him sleep on the living room floor?” The two of you had nightmares, if you were to be separated from him for even a night, it was certain that the pair of you would greatly suffer. That was something you didn’t want to burden any of the Wilson’s with, screaming in the middle of the night because flashes from your past struck an unconscious nerve.

“All good, and thank you Sarah. You didn’t have to let us stay here, we both appreciate it, a hell of a lot.” One thing that you had learnt throughout your years was to show gratitude. The smallest amount shared had the ability to spring up moods, and had even set you on a much more heroic path than the one that you had been originally been placed upon.

“You’ve earned your stay.” Sam’s sister shrugged with modesty, acknowledging the help that you and Bucky had not only given to Sam, but to her family’s legacy. The two of you had aided with fixing the old wreckage that had now returned to the form of a boat, keeping it afloat rather than permitting it to sink from the quarrels that Sam had with himself regarding fixing the damned yet meaningful port of transport.

“This life you have, it’s great. I get it’s not easy, but it’s beautiful. You have two wonderful kids, that you’ve done such a great job raising, and not to mention, these community that you have is so loving and kind, even to us outsiders.” The pair of you had paused outside of her front door, speaking. “Sam is lucky to have you, he truly is.”

“Well, maybe one day this life could be something similar to what you’ll have.” The sister of your friend smiled, though your mirroring expression retracted. In a stumble of thought, you shook your head, not believing that possibility. This all was... perfect. That was something that you had never had, nor would you think that you’d ever be permitted such a peaceful lifestyle.

“I don’t think that would work out.” You sincerely mumbled, feeling the sad swelling in your chest at the prospect of all the luxuries that life had denied both you and Bucky of. It wasn’t fair all the same, but the two of you were used to being denied human rights, let alone the simplicity of nothing more than a life together. “As nice as it sounds, me and Buck aren’t really cut out for all this I suppose.”

“The world does not choose who can and cannot have a family, there’s always a way. Just because you haven’t had the most ideal line of story does not at all mean that you can’t make it work, from as much as i know, you two deserve a life together, that doesn’t include being shot at, or shooting at other people. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta go for it, and hope for the best.” She gave you a final nod, before heading inside, and you trailed after her into her her residency.

The two of you went your separate ways, and there, you saw Bucky, sat up on the sofa, his hands clasped together as his eyes stared towards the tan bag, that concealed not the shape, but the Stars and Stripes of the infamous shield. It was much a relief that it was no longer in Walker’s toxic clutch, however its presence, among other things, were taking a clear toll on your boyfriend.

“You ever feel like we’re stuck?” The air was tense around you both as he spoke solemnly, it diverting to match the mood of his question. “Like we’re us, and I love us, but it makes me think that it’s it. Just me and you, on this path for the rest of our lives, never getting a compensated break, nor an average person’s future. I want this, what these people here have, not the combat that is aided by this metal arm, or the associations that stick to us like life lines.”

“All the time, it’s on my mind James.” With a sigh, you came to sit beside him on the couch, resting your head against his bionic shoulder. “I ever wonder if there’s a timeline of you and me where there’s none of this ruckus, we just have a nice little house in a quiet and accepting place, and maybe a kid or two in the future.”

“I’d give anything up for that.” He looked at you, almost wide eyed, as his hand slithered down onto your knee cap, rubbing small circles as he wore a blunt and endearing smile upon his infatuating lips. “I mean that Buck, that sounds...”

“Perfect?” He asked, leaning closer as he grabs your chin with his wondrous fingers, his nose brushing alongside your own as his puckered lips fell upon yours, earning a small hun of content from within you. “Because you’re perfect to me, and no matter what life we are encased in, I want to share it with you. I want stare at the night sky and watch the moonlight illuminate the side of your face, and the stars reflect in your entrapping eyes, that I want to look into like a medium’s orbs forever, because that is how I will see the future that I ever so hope for.”

“How long have you been working on that one Barnes, because you are usually not that smooth?” A small laugh erupted from your mouth, but you were quickly silenced as you felt a cold metal hand slither up and beneath the back of your tank top, rubbing along the seam of your spine, as his lips ran down the column of your throat, evoking small and delicate whimpers out of you.

“Shut up doll, because I really want to fuck you now, and those words leaving your mouth are making it kinda hard to concentrate.” A furrow imbedded between his brows, as you tilted your head at him, a smirk proclaiming your expression as you pulled the material over your head, and reached behind yourself to unclip the back of your bra.

“Kinda hard to concentrate, hun?” You asked nonchalantly as his gaze zeroed in on your bare breasts, his hands smoothing along your ribcage as he adjusted his grip of you so that he was palming at your breasts, and squeezing the nipples. “I want you in me baby, I’ve practically gone days without you inside of me.” Licking your lips, you reached down to palm your beloved through his layers, earning a positive groan from the former assassin.

“Hours, you mean. I fingered you on the road trip here.” Yes, that was true, however, it was only his fingers, not even the metal ones, and whilst you loved what they alone could do, he had to be discreet as you were sat on the back of the truck, which had carried the primary parts for the Wilson’s family boat. If you were to scream out, they’d have surely thought that you’d fallen off the back of the truck and pull over, or if they had much sense, they’d have noticed that there was more going on than two passengers sat side by side on the journey to their small neighbourhood by the docks,

“You heard me Barnes, otherwise I’m sure Sam wouldn’t have any problem if I came to his room in this state of undress that I am currently portraying.” Growling was never Bucky’s fortes, however the sound aggressively ripped through the tunnel of his throat, as he threw off his grey top, quickly unfastening his belt, as he awaited for you to strip the rest of your clothing before him.

But rather than doing so, as he stood before you, your hand had trouble resisting the sight of his cock that had bobbed to attention, and thus, you wrapped it around his toned flesh, giving it a couple jerks that had his head reeling back, before you tongued his tip, moaning to yourself at the taste of him invading your sensitive taste buds. “Love your cock.”

As soon as you said that, Bucky gently gathered your head in a ponytail so that it was free from bombarding your face, and groaned as quiet as he could as you sucked him in your mouth, running your tongue up the side of his shaft. “Is that a part of your dream world baby doll, the sight of my cock throbbing to be inching down that perfect little throat of yours?”

To answer him, you pressed your head down deeper, humming around him as your eyes ogled up at the sight of your super soldier, who was trying his hardest to keep his eyes open, and attuned to the sight of you. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, as you lightly gagged around him, pulling off him, and squeezing his balls, before running your hungry tongue along the middle of his sack.

“Always. It would be a dream if you made love to me right here and now though, I’m not sure I can wait any longer James.” Bucky took a long inhale, before ravishingly pulling down your jeans and panties in one go, and tossing you so that he was below your form, and you hovered over him, toying with his erect cock. “I love you so much Bucky, and I’m scared of what’s to come. I have a feeling that there’s gonna be a fight.”

“There’s always a fight doll face.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly across your jaw, pulling your hips down closer so that you were rubbing your slick folds against his standing cock. “But this is what we’re fighting for, the rest of our lives together. I’d be damned, one day after this, and if I were to die, I’d be a happy man. There’d be the memory of you to keep me forever happy in the afterlife, and not to mention, there’d be no more wars for me to participate in.”

“I’m not going to let you die Buck, even hypothetically. We saw how your little hypothetical synopsis went last time.” Tapping his cock against your clit, a breathy sound evicted from your lips, as you stared down at the two of you intimately touching, the sight alone making you more turned on and impatient. “No one is allowed to kill you, otherwise I’ll unleash hell on all their flag smashing asses.”

Giving him one last stroke, you guided his tip towards your entrance, removing your hand once you had him situated, so that you could rest it upon his sturdy shoulder, and sink down on him, the feeling of him stretching you being the most euphoric sensation that you had ever endured. Hushed moans ceased from the both of you, as Bucky’s hands gripped your ass cheeks, only adding to all of the pleasure that was erupting within you.

“Think your pussy is gonna kill me before anyone else does; your so tight.” His pitch had rose, as your fingertips danced along the left side of his handsome face, invisibly connecting the dots of his beauty marks. You allowed the pair of you to adjust for a simple moment, before you began to raise your hips, sliding up his super soldier rod, only to slide down it again.

The actions were repeated, as your own hands trailed down his warm skin, to drag down the golden lines of his vibranium arm, only to bring the weapon to your mouth, and kiss every black finger up, as you tried your best to muffle the moans that were hoping to reap free. “So fucking big, I love you and your cock.” You muttered, your sight turning blurry as Bucky realised that it was his turn to do the work, and thus, he thrusted up into you, making echoing sounds of your skin slapping together reverberate around the room.

“Love you more.” He gritted his teeth, pulling his metallic hand away from your numb lips, so that he could swirl the elegant digits around your clit, the action provoking whimpers to rapidly surpass your exterior, as you bit harshly onto your own lip, and screwed your eyes shut. “Cum for me doll, want you to cover my hard cock in everything you have. Come on baby, you can do it.”

Without much thought, as your mind was too scrambled to do so, you reached for Bucky’s spare hand, pulling it to your mouth as you sucked on his fingers as though you were blowing him. A low moan that was dialled down from the presence of his flesh digits, ran from your mouth, as you began to bounce your hips, chasing and eventually reaching your high. You came around him, pushing him too over the edge, his seed filling your walls, as you collapsed atop of him, huffing from exhaustion as you removed his salivated hand from the realms of your mouth, resting your head against his panting chest.

Stringed sighs fell from Bucky’s breath as he tried to catch his own breath. His hands rubbed your back, not only to comfort you, but also to subconsciously pull you closer against him, and his softening cock that was still inside you, and was keeping his cum plugged within your tender and pulsating walls. If life was easier, there’d be more time for this, and that, but for now, it was just every now and then. Maybe you’d win this fight and survive until the next one, but maybe, you’d lose and never battle again.

Life was precious, that was something that you had not only learned as an avenger, but also something that had been told to you by Isiah. That man thought that you deserved a normal life, no fighting, no super soldiers. He himself was the biggest yet silent critic of those with additional strength, but his opinion was never going to sway you, not as you stared out into Sarah’s backyard, and watched the man that you loved play with the boys.

They had the shield, and were whisking it through the air like a frisbee; dangerous, yes, but again, life could only amount to so much without an ounce of pain. A content and satisfied smile absorbed any pain on your face, you were enraptured with the sight of Bucky like this, he was like an uncle to these two kids. He was no captain America, that was for sure, but you didn’t want a man in Stars and Stripes, all you wanted was him to be at peace, and it was a fact unbeknownst to him, that you had made such an alternative to that.

“Still want all this?” Sarah emerged, a cheap yet formidable bottle of wine pursed in her hand, as she held two clear and tall glasses in her hand. You hummed, watching as she poured the thin red consistency into one glass, but as she went to fill the other, you held out your hand, shaking your head. The woman was confused, last time you had visited, and were entangled on her sofa with the limbs of your boyfriend and a shaggy old blanket, you had kindly accepted her offer.

“Sure do.” You sighed, staring out into the green abyss where Jim was hanging from Bucky’s arm like it were a branch. “How do you do this, this whole mother thing? I’ve never been able to wrap my head around how you make it look so easy, it’s just, you do such a good job.” Your palms rested flat on your thighs as you laughed at Sam ordering Jody to jump on Bucky’s back, as he fell down in faux defeat.

“It never is easy y/n.” She placed the open bottle down, along with the mismatched glasses, that were asymmetrical considering one was half filled and the other wallowed in emptiness. “But every step of difficulty is worth it. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss their father, but they’re my priority. For Jim and Jody, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do, and you’d understand that if you ever opened yourself up to giving your life of heroism up to have all this.”

“I might have to.” Twiddling with your fingers, glancing up at your boyfriend, realising that he was in fact not looking over, you clasped your intwined hands over your stomach, smiling softly to yourself. “And maybe not having another option is the best option for me and Buck, because we don’t have to fight with ourselves over being included in our duties, we have new ones.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Sarah asked, resting her nurturing hand upon the tile of your shoulder, prompting you to turn your face towards her. There was a conflict in your eyes, it was something that she recognised her younger self having once worn. It was the idea of putting everything aside, all for a child, everything that she had ever known, so that she could put her baby boy first. “Does Bucky know?”

“He will.” You shifted your head down, unsure of yourself. This had been what you had wanted, and whilst you still envied Sarah for the role she had, you were hurt. A part of you wanted to be an avenger until you were nothing but a soul drifting in the abyss of non existence, another didn’t want to let the knowledge of being a carrier for a new future crumble you. “I just need a moment to tell him.”

“I’ve got it.” She sent you a wink, picking up the items she had brought out, before she called on Sam and the kids to come inside. Sarah had gifted you the opportunity of revealing the truth to your partner with no one else around; you appreciated that. As he stalked closer, you met him halfway, sinking into his arms as he hugged you.

“Looked like you were having fun with the boys.” You verbally noted, loving the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “You’re amazing Bucky Barnes, to me and to everyone. I just, don’t want you to freak out on me, I have something big, really big, to tell you, and-“

“Baby, I know.” He smiled, pulling back so that he could look you in the face. “I have super human senses, I heard their little heart beat for the first time yesterday. We’re having a baby, and I couldn’t be happier about it. In fact, I want to ask you if you’ll accept my question of making Sam the godfather.” You nodded, tears standing in your eyes, as you brought the man down for a kiss.

“Yes. But I’m not sure that he’ll be praising us for making a baby when we technically created him or her on the couch inside.” Bucky shook his head at you, kissing your forehead before walking inside with you, preparing to tell the Wilson family, that had along the way became your own, the good news- well, not the sofa bit.

2K notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

beautiful when the damage is done

part one | part two

characters: todoroki touya | dabi, todoroki natsuo

genre: smut laced with angst and a pinch of fluff

notes: part two of getting naughty with natsuo!! please please heed the warnings!! | title cred: sick thoughts by lewis blissett

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon/noncon, sadism, punishment via overstimulation, pseudo-incest (stepcest), vaguely implied incest, emotional manipulation, a hint of degradation, toxic relationships, poly relationship, dom/sub dynamics, a LOT of crying (dacryphilia), slight size kink/size difference, rough sex

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

And you’re both reminded of how privileged you are, being the only two who ever get to witness this side of him, the only two who are fortunate enough to see the person he might’ve been if you stripped away years upon years of trauma and abuse, the person he truly is at the core of his soul, the person he was born as before he was forced to layer himself with thick, protective walls of aggression coated in indifference—and the person who he becomes as he sheds that armor, in the middle of the night when it’s just the three of you, the whole world having fallen away outside the bedroom door.

It’s musty, air thick with the haze of sweat and sex, saturated the smell of tears and cum, so potent you swear you can almost see it in the atmosphere of Touya’s room. Uncontrollable quivers course through your entire body, never-ending chills erupting across bare, damp skin that shines every time it catches in the dim beams coming from Touya’s desk lamp.

Your scalp is still sore from where Touya yanked you off of Natsuo—back in the living room, how many hours ago? It feels as though it’s been forever since then, memory murky and swimming as you try to think—one strong hand wrapped in your hair jerking you up with such force you nearly stumbled. The pain is dull, a throbbing ache that radiates fading waves of hurt along your skull.

It’s constant, though, brewing a headache that is equal parts agony and dehydration, and you wish to rub at the spot, to place your palm over it in a futile attempt to soothe the discomfort at least a little, but you can’t.

Because it feels as if your blood has been replaced with sand, dense and heavy as it clogs your veins, weighing your arms down and keeping them firmly locked around Natsuo’s neck, steadying you in his lap.

But the ache in your scalp is nothing compared to the burn between your legs.

You can feel it, your third orgasm, churning in the depths of your stomach as it builds, a blistering warmth furling into a tight, concentrated ball of fire. It’s almost sickening, now, the heat roiling inside of you as heavy as lead, wracking destruction on your body as tender muscles, already quaking from exhaustion, begin to tense once more, to coil and wind up the way a lithe tiger does right before it strikes.

“Nat-Natsuo, I can’t,” the words wobble as they spill from between clattering teeth, you head shaking sluggishly as fresh tears sting your eyes.

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs softly to you, gentler than he’s ever been before but refusing to slow his movements as he bounces you on his cock, concerned stone eyes searching your face while his fingers flex on your hips, readjusting their grip on the slippery skin.

“You better,” Touya spits from his place on his bed, peering down at the two of you with something akin to disgust, to derision, saturating his features. And it stings, blazing sapphire searing his glare into your skin much like how he had carved his name into you, years ago.

A wet sob hitches in time with Natsuo’s rough thrusts, has you choking on it, concentrated with thick saliva that sticks in your throat and forces your breaths to escape in wheezes, hands clasping tighter behind Natsuo’s neck.

Yet, despite the pain, there are still sparks of pleasure that accompany each catch of your puffy clit on Natsuo’s slick skin, flickers of lust interspersed with those excruciating spikes that shoot through your abdomen.

It hits suddenly, that third orgasm—you’re halfway through your punishment now, Touya reminds you—has your tightly shut eyelids springing open with a gasp, entire body freezing up in Natsuo’s strong grasp, a grunt falling from his chapped lips as he drives his hips to piston into your rigid body.

He follows only a few moments later with a deep groan that rumbles in his chest, body vibrating with the force of it as his thick cock throbs, filling your little cunt with spurt after spurt of cum that feels almost cool in comparison to your scalding insides.

Touya allows half hour breaks between each orgasm—a short refraction period for you and Natsuo to regain infinitesimal amounts of strength—and not a second more, he had spit after the second orgasm, cutting off your plea for just a few more moments of rest, because this is plenty of time, more than you need, really and you should be grateful he’s so generous.

By the time you’re due for your fourth orgasm, you can barely move, and Natsuo doesn’t have the arm strength to hold you up anymore, to force your hips to keep gyrating or to bounce you on his cock, his entire upper half spent.

“Lay her on the floor, then,” Touya instructs coldly, voice firm and void of any compassion, though it’s hard to miss the sadistic glint in his eyes, hard to ignore the way the corners of his lips quirk up in an ill-concealed smile.

The look Natsuo gives him is almost heartbreaking, a puppy looking up at its owner with its tail tucked between its legs, eyebrows knitted together so tightly they crease his forehead, a deep frown—no, pout—etched into his face as he gazes at his big brother, glazed stone eyes pleading.

“Nii-san, can’t we use—”

“No,” Touya cuts him off harshly, sapphire eyes flashing, and Natsuo flinches. “You’re fucking her on the Goddamn floor for all five—it’s part of your punishment,”

Natuso doesn’t argue, but his lips twitch, and his eyes blur, and his nose sniffles, and he gives his brother a curt little nod of understanding, head bowed in submission.

The hardwood is cold against your heated skin, and you exhale a hiss through gritted teeth as Natsuo positions you as gently as he can, one large palm cradling your head, the other positioned on your back, slight tremors running through his exhausted muscles as he reclines you.

A wrecked little whine pries its way past your lips as Natsuo pushes in again, face scrunching up as sharp, needle-like pinpricks shoot through your gut, your raw, sensitive cunt stinging as Natsuo’s cock reopens previous sutures, skin split further, wounds dug deeper.

The sound your skin makes as it scrapes against the hardwood from Natsuo’s clumsy bucks has all three of you cringing, a piercing squeal that only adds to the symphony of your sobs and Natsuo’s grunts, flesh inflamed and chaffed from being repeated rubbed against the surface.

It’s getting harder and harder for you to cum, even with the generous breaks Touya allows, sparks of pleasure faded to mere cinders now, each shallow drag of Natsuo’s cock causing both of your bodies to recoil, and it’s too much, too much.

“Please, nii-chan,” you beg in a tiny whimper, teary eyes flying to Touya’s face, partially shrouded in shadows as glowing sapphire gazes down at you in scrutiny. “S’enough now,”

“We’ve learned our lesson, p-promise,” Natsuo adds, nodding frenetically.

“P-Pinky promise, nii-chan, please, stop,”

Touya scoffs. “You wanted to cum, didn’t you?” he pauses, cobalt eyes darting between your faces, an eyebrow raising in question. “Well, now I’m allowing you to. Now you have my permission; the permission you knew you needed so bad, but refused to request,”

And it’s then that it dawns on each of you that he had heard the both of you, had heard the entire fucking conversation, while he was doing his work in the kitchen.

How could either of you thought that he wouldn’t? How could either of you been so fucking stupid? Nii-san knows everything—nii-san always knows everything.

“Please, please, we’re sorry, nii-san, we’re sorry,”

“We won’t ever do it again!”

The laugh that claws its way up Touya’s throat is soaked with ridicule, and he shakes his head, a gleeful little grin present on his lips, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing, as if it’s so ludicrous it’s funny.

“Wait, wait, wait—let me get this straight…you two wanted it so bad, and now you have the balls to complain when nii-chan complies?”

His voice is painfully apathetic, almost nonchalant in a way, as if it makes no difference to him even though it so clearly does, or you and Natsuo wouldn’t be shivering messes of tangled limbs on the floor.

Excuses begin tumbling from two pairs of lips, words stuttered and choked on and sandwiched between pleads and apologies, jumbling together in a mess of garbled, wet, desperate sounds.

“Enough,” Touya growls, and both voices cut off in an instant. “I don’t want to fucking hear it anymore! Keep acting like ungrateful little brats and I’ll make this punishment longer, I swear to God,”

But you can’t halt the words bubbling up past your lips, regardless of Touya’s threat, regardless of the fact that you know he’s deadly serious. They’re compulsive, automatic, almost instinctual in nature as you seek out comfort, hunt for solace and fragments of relief in the hulking man blanketing you.

“I-I don’t wanna anymore, Natsuo,” you’re weeping into his chest, hot tears leaking from the corners of tightly shut eyes, streaming down the sides of your head and into your hair. “I don’t wanna,”

“I know, baby, I know,” Natsuo murmurs, though his bottom lip is beginning to tremble.

“Make him stop, Natsuo, make nii-chan stop,”

“I can’t,” his voice breaks on the word, facial features saturated in concern, in fear, wincing as if it physically pains him to deny you. “You know I would if I could,” he nearly whimpers, and his eyes search yours almost frantically, as if he’s begging you to understand. “But I can’t,”

But your head is shaking as you wail louder, fingers weakly curling against his skin, nails pressing into the flesh of his shoulders and clinging to him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Natsuo’s saying, the words cracking in his throat, voice hoarse. He pauses, clearing it twice, eyes closing briefly as he sighs out a slow, deep, stammering breath, gathering his strength. “One more after this, princess,” he begins as his hips start to speed up their rutting, procuring a yelp from you. “That’s it, jus’ one more after this one. C’mon, we can do it,”

“No, no, no,” you chant as pretty, gleaming tears roll down your face. And you can see it, the potent guilt swirling in his gunmetal eyes, from the way his pupils expand as they focus on the salt water sullying your cheeks, from the way his cock twitches despite it all. “I don’wanna, I don’wanna, stop, Natsuo, stop,”

His motions pause immediately, the moment the word falls from your lips, but he starts up just as quickly as Touya dictates from his spot on the mattress above.

“Stop, and I’ll add another two,” he promises, ruthless and unforgiving. Chills skitter along your glistening skin, erupting across your damp body at his tone. Both of you know he isn’t bluffing, that he’ll add as many orgasms as he wants to, and that he’ll continue to pull them from your fatigued and worn-out bodies one way or another, even if he has to do it completely by himself.

“Focus on me,” Natsuo instructs gently, though there’s a sense of urgency in his voice, a frenzied need to calm you down before Touya loses his patience completely. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Just focus on me, look at me,”

So you do, blinking the bleariness from your gaze as you direct all of your attention to him. And although there’s that ever-present guilt still swimming in his irises, in his unshed tears, there’s also love in his stare, so much love it’s nearly overflowing, overpowering the remorse and instilling a deep sense of comfort in your stammering chest.

Because at least you’re not alone in this; at least you have each other—each other to find comfort in, to cry and whine and beg with, to protect.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he’s whispering over your wails like a broken mantra, those tears that have been glazing his eyes, that have been collecting behind his lashline, finally beginning to fall.

His hips speed up, as fast as he possibly can as he gathers every last ounce of power and manages to wring another one out of you, another one out of himself, sore cunt clenching painfully around him, your fourth orgasm feeling as if it’s been punched out of you, despite the fact that Natsuo’s thrusts have been shallow.

And by the time your fifth orgasm rolls around, you’re nothing more than Jell-o in the shape of a human, though Natsuo’s not much better, barely able to move other than the uneven rutting of his hips, a crushing deadweight on top of you as his weary hips give pitiful little thrusts, pubic bone dragging across your hypersensitive clit, every tug against it ripping another ragged cry from your throat.

But you’re having trouble, both of you struggling to do anything other than feebly hump against each other, unable to secure enough strength to pump—to milk—that final orgasm out of yourselves, sniveling little protests punctuated by wrecked sobs leaking from your mouths.

Touya’s pissed—beyond pissed—sharp jaw clenching while seething insults burn his tongue and slice your skin, berating the both of you for being so fucking weak, so fucking pathetic, because he’s forced more orgasms out of the both of you before, so why is this so fucking difficult?

Touya’s too stubborn, and he refuses to end the punishment early irrespective of the fact that you’re both entirely drained, reminding you in a callous voice that you each must cum five times before it’s over while he aggressively roots through one of his desk drawers, snickering to himself when he finds what he’s looking for, hooking his index finger in it and pulling it out.

And the look on his face when he turns back to face you and Natsuo is positively petrifying, idly swinging the cockring around on his finger as his head tilts slightly, observing the both of you with that sharp smile you’ve come to know so well on his lips, eyes glittering with pure delight, features lit up with his own personal brand of sadistic excitement.

Natsuo starts to say something, voice forming around a word that sounds suspiciously similar to no, but he catches himself before it fully leaves his mouth, pressing quivering lips together tightly as he stares up at his brother with wet eyes.

Touya chuckles, raising an eyebrow with that trademark lopsided smirk, as if he’s challenging Natsuo to dispute him, to resist.

He doesn’t, of course, because he never would, but he does finally allow full shuddery sobs to escape his chest, Touya’s condescending shh’s and hush, now’s doing nothing to calm them as he slides the cockring on.

Natsuo nearly howls when Touya turns the tiny, pretty pink device on, his entire body jerking with that initial vibration.

“The faster you cum, the faster I’ll take it off,” Touya says calmly over the stifled little shrieks Natsuo’s continulously trying to swallow back down, nodding his understanding as he repositions himself between your thighs, holding his vibrating cock in one massive palm as he guides himself back into you.

And you want to tell him no!, don’t!, stop!, you want to shove him off, to kick and scream and beg and cry, but your heavy head sluggishly lolling from side to side seems to be all you can manage, words snagging in your throat, nothing more than incoherent babbling leaving your lips.

Because you can barely speak, barely think, barely breathe, vision fading in and out of focus as Natsuo rocks stuttering hips against yours, warm salt water rolling down the bridge of his nose, dripping onto your cheeks and mixing with yours. You’re both more each other, more one than two separate entities now, spit and cum and tears so interspersed you can’t tell which belongs to who anymore, limbs and fluids, thoughts and sounds, endlessly flowing into one another.

“Tell her to behave, Natsuo,” Touya barks, though there’s twisted amusement dancing in his eyes as he observes. “Tell her to finish the fucking punishment,”

And Natsuo, ever the perfectly trained pet, does as he says immediately.

“We can—We can do it,” Natsuo keens from above you, full body shudders wracking his hulking form, alabaster hair clinging to his forehead in uneven clumps, drenched in sweat as he forces words through his own bawling, hips grinding into yours. “We can do it, let’s be good for nii-san, yeah? L-Let’s make nii-san proud—c’mon, you wanna make him proud, don’t you?”

You do—of course you do. You never want anything else. But…But you’re not entirely sure you can, hiccupped sobs peppering your slurred words. Unconsciousness tugs at the edges of your hazy mind, whispers enticing promises of repose and relaxation as weighted eyelids begin to sag.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Natsuo cuts you off gently, shaky knuckles brushing against your cheek in a poor imitation of a caress. “I’ll do it, baby, I’ll do it,”

You don’t even remember cumming a fifth time, only a feeling of hot coals smoldering in the pit of your stomach, but you must have, because then Touya’s hooking his arms under Natsuo’s and dragging him off of you, propping him up against the side of the bed and kneeling as lithe fingers remove the toy from his cock.

And the sense of relief that seeps into your body and floods your veins is so intense it almost feels like a rush of adrenaline instead. You did it. You both did it. Finally, it is over.

Or so you and Natsuo thought.

—

Spikes of fear piece through his heart as Natsuo blearily watches Touya gather your limp body in his arms, hauling you up with a soft grunt.

And it’s astounding, the way you still curl into him, still seek that familiarity, that solace, in his chest, mumbled out honorific padded by hitched half-sobs as you cling to him. It’s astounding, because even after all he’s done to you, after everything he just put the two of you through, you will crawl back to him each and every time, over shards of glass on your hands and knees with his name on your lips—his name in devotion, in submission, in love—without a single question asked.

And Natsuo realizes that he would, too.

The thought inspires a bittersweet taste to settle on his tongue, like sticky toffee and black coffee, alien feelings swirling in his chest, clashes of consoling blooms of warmth and spiky shards of ice.

But Natsuo doesn’t have time to meditate on his newfound emotions, your faint pleas recapturing his attention.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Touya murmurs, large hands repositioning you.

And he really does sound sorry, even though Natsuo knows he isn’t.

“Wh-What are you…”

“It isn’t over yet,” Touya says simply, though the smile stretched taut across his face is severe, terrifying, azure eyes sparkling in merciless amusement at the horror that shows on Natsuo’s face when he realizes, eyes widening as they fill with thick tears again, bottom lip jutting out into an involuntary pout as panic surges through his veins.

His heart palpitates violently against his ribcage, tongue turned to cotton as worry signs itself in the creases of his forehead.

“Nii-san,” Natsuo begins cautiously, trying in vain to keep his voice steady. “I don’t think—I-I mean, is that really necessary?”

“Of course it is,” his big brother responds without looking at him, preoccupied with folding your lifeless limbs up, knees bent and pressed to your chest.

“Why?” the word slips out without Natsuo’s permission, grey eyes widening in shock as he swallows thickly, shaking his head a little as if to say I didn’t mean to!, though Touya doesn’t seem to mind.

“Because the overstimulation was her punishment,” Touya glances over at him, the amusement dancing in his eyes turned vicious as his smile stretches wider—so wide Natsuo’s surprised it doesn’t split his face clean in two—cruel and brutal. “This is yours,”

Natsuo isn’t quite sure he understands, brain doused in a thick fog and having difficulty grasping the concept, the knowledge of what his nii-san truly means turning to dense, ashy smoke any time he tries to grasp it, metaphorically slipping through his fingers.

But then you’re speaking again, and Natsuo’s head whips towards you, chest tightening at how completely wrecked you sound.

“No, please, no more,” the words gurgle in your throat, escaping as nothing more but jumbled, spit-soaked whines that have Touya chuckling as he shoves his cock into your aching little hole.

“You’re in no position to be making demands, princess,” he speaks through a patronizing pout, a mockery of your own expression, voice syrupy and supercilious. “If you weren’t such a needy little whore always desperate for a hard cock to grind on, this wouldn’t be happening,”

The words are spit in the same demeaning tone Touya had been using earlier, the same demeaning tone he always uses, and Natsuo’s powerless to stop the words flowing from his mouth.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” he reassures you, though his voice cracks under the emotion, words wavering as his chin trembles.

“You’re right,” Touya muses, slight breathlessness the only indication that he’s railing the absolute life out of you. “It’s yours,”

And suddenly, Natsuo understands what nii-san had meant when he said this was his punishment.

Because he’s right.

It’s got to be the harshest punishment Touya’s ever bestowed on him.

Because it’s hard to watch the way your lax, abused body is forced to just take it, Touya’s thrusts so rough they jostle you up the mattress; even harder to hear as you bawl and beg and scream, and Natsuo’s nose twitches as the threat of new tears climbs up his throat, lodging in the column as he fights against them.

He feels sick, like some sort of depraved pervert, for the weak twitches his cock gives, for the faint embers that flicker in the pit of his stomach, igniting a dull blaze as he watches, almost entranced by the grotesque situation unfolding in front of him. He feels sicker, knowing that both of those would be stronger, much stronger, had Touya not forced him to fuck his entire soul into you.

And Touya—Well, Touya’s been hard from it all—high from it all—the whole time, and Natsuo can almost see the sheer power flowing through his veins, an aura that envelopes him, that radiates off of him in intoxicating waves, that licks at his skin like flames of blue fire. Natsuo bets—no, knows— it’s better than any drug Touya’s ever taken.

Protests marinate on his tongue, bitter and acidic, pleads of stop and enough scraping against the walls of his throat as he forcefully swallows them back down, emitting pathetic little whimpers in their place.

Because he knows if he starts, Touya will only make it worse for you, so he suffers in silence, readily agreeing with Touya every time he reminds Natsuo that this is all his fault and neither of you would be in pain if Natsuo could’ve just kept it in his fucking pants for a few minutes longer.

It hurts, because it’s true, nii-san’s words sending thick, piercing stakes spearing through Natsuo’s heart, through Natsuo’s very soul, straight to the core of his body. Acrid bile climbs up his throat as Touya’s moans mingle with your sobs, so exhausted that they’re barely more than little wheezes at this point. It’s abundantly clear that Touya doesn’t feel a shred of remorse, and that makes Natsuo feel even worse—if only he had said no, if only he had waited and asked, if only he had been stronger, you wouldn’t be suffering.

The tears collecting in the column of his throat sprout talons and claw their way up, past his steadily weaking resolve, prying their way through his lips in the form of jagged sobs.

It’s magnificent, really, the way Touya can render Natsuo a snotty, shivering mess with only a few choice words. And Natsuo—Natsuo only ever cries in front of his big brother, only ever cries for his big brother, full-on weeping that slashes through his sputtering chest, coughing around and choking on his own sobs of nii-san, I’m sorry!

But it ends eventually, finally, Touya tearing one last orgasm from you, gentle words contradicting his cruel, ruthless actions, murmurs of come on baby, just one more, one more for nii-chan. You can do this for nii-chan, can’t you? You can be a good little girl for me and cum one more time, right? lingering on his lips

And somehow, you find the strength to obey, to be his good baby, because you always do, entire body convulsing with a raspy shriek of the honorific, Touya praising you only moments later as his hips still and his cock pumps you full.

—

It’s cute, really, how fucked out the two of you are. Touya thinks you’re both so beautiful when you’re like this, with glassy eyes and tearstained cheeks, lashes clumped together with residual water and swollen faces stained with streaks of salt, all dazed and fucked and stupid for him, from him.

Natsuo’s doing better than you are, of course—Natsuo wasn’t subjected to being fucked again. But Natsuo still needs to rest, Touya softly tutting his tongue with a disapproving shake of his head as Natsuo attempts to aid him with your aftercare, movements clumsy as he stumbles to his feet, inept and awkward as he blunders towards you.

“No,” Touya’s large hands wrap around his younger brother’s shoulders, halting him, steadying him, forcing Natsuo to look at him. “You rest,” he instructs sternly, guiding Natsuo back to his previous spot and delicately depositing him onto the desk chair. “I’ll get to you in a minute, okay, Natsuo-kun?”

Natsuo hums out an affirmation, eyes closing briefly as Touya’s fingertips affectionately trace the curve of his cheek, palm patting it once.

It’s in moments such as these, nights after hours and hours of extreme punishment, that Touya automatically, perhaps unknowingly, slips into Big Brother mode, and you’re reminded of the age gap between them.

Because even though Natsuo’s bigger than Touya, taller than Touya, beefier than Touya, he looks so tiny under his older brother’s protective gaze.

You both must reek terribly, covered in drool and sweat and cum, must look like hot messes, strands of tangled hair saturated with salt and sticking to your cheeks, but your Touya-nii is still right there regardless, whispering the sweetest affirmations and the tenderest praises to the both of you as he wipes each of you down with a damp cloth infused with lavender, telling the both of you how good you did, how proud you made nii-san, how pretty both of you are.

Nimble fingers spend a decent amount of time rubbing soothing circles of moisturizing cream into each of you, your most sensitive skin rubbed raw, aching and puffy from such intense maltreatment, before Touya-nii dresses each of you in his softest, comfiest clothes, steady stream of pure, unadulterated love never stopping as it pours from his lips.

You’re all each other need, after all; because he loves you both more than he could ever put into words—and you each love him back just the same—and that will always be more than enough.

Touya reaches across your body, arm a pleasant, heavy weight as it rests on you, and runs slender fingers through Natsuo’s sweaty hair as you snuggle into your nii-chan’s chest, and Natsuo nearly mewls, nuzzling into his nii-san’s touch as Touya instructs the both of you to sleep, now, a film playing softly in the background as the three of you drift into unconsciousness together.

#todoroki touya x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #natsuo smut #todoroki natsuo x reader #AAAAAAAH jesus finally #this is A Lot lol #tw:incest #tw noncon

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daydreamingleclerc · 2 years

Text

princess | mason mount (18+) (teaser)

overall summary: after meeting at her brothers birthday party, Y/N stones meets mason mount - the epitome of why she despises most footballers. she thinks he’s a cocky little prick and he thinks she’s a preppy little bitch and that’s the way it’s going to stay - until they end up tangled between the sheets. enemies to lovers, all chapters are titled after taylor swift songs and most chapters will include smut.

ch. 1 - ‘the very first night’ (teaser)

in which, mason & Y/N meet at her brothers birthday party, and instantly they don’t see eye to eye

the two of them stood in silence for a few moments, Y/N stared at her feet awkwardly, not wanting to pull her phone out and create a disturbance, while the stranger continued to check her out behind sunglasses. he might have been cocky, and she might have had some strong hatred brewing for the brunette quicker than she’d liked to admit, but she couldn’t deny that his gaze was intimidating, attractive.

“do you take pride in not knowing how to stand still?” he asked, the clicking of his phone switching off filled the air between them, and upon hearing his words she stilled. “or am i just that intimidating to you, princess?”

“you don’t get to call me that.”

her reply was sharp, almost verging on aggressive and her face softened. john was the only person allowed to even think about calling her that name, he’d used it on her ever since the two were kids, and being her big brother he refused to listen when she said she’d hated it.

she’d grown to love the nickname, but twenty two years on, it was only strictly allowed to leave john’s lips.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he wiggled his eyebrows, “afraid that it sounds better coming out of my mouth?”

she poked at the inside of her mouth and kept her head clear, despite wanting to punch his pretty little face into oblivion. he just chuckled, knowing full well she was going to be a bit of a challenge to crack. he liked a challenge, it kept him on his toes.

the elevator bell dinged, and as the doors opened blue and green flashing lights greeted them and it accentuated every aspect of Y/N’s figure, the sequins shimmering in the multi-coloured light and despite not taking a perfectly warm liking to the woman, the stranger couldn’t look away.

she slipped out of the elevator first, hiking her dress further down her legs in fear of being scolded by her brother. “worried you’re not as much of a princess as he thinks you are?”

“do you take pride in being an irritable prick?”

“ooh, not so angelic now are we, princess?”

he smirked at the way she rolled her eyes, a hand on her hip as she gave up waiting for him to walk beside her. her buttons were really getting pushed now, and he was barely even getting started. as she walked away, he couldn’t help but watch as her bum wiggled with every movement, and as he stepped out of the elevator he blew out a puff of air, moisture particles sticking to his face as he felt hot under the pressure of the lights.

before her fist even hit the door, it swung open, john stood there with a glass bottle of beer in one hand and a pair of big, stupid orange party glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. her face lit up when she saw her brother, and underneath all of the alcohol he’d consumed his face lit up too; he hadn’t seen her in a while.

“i was going to say surprise but looks like you knew i was coming,” she chuckled, holding out her arms for her brother to slot into. john frowned, and instead of hugging his younger sister he planted a big, smooshy, wet kiss on her forehead. she laughed, wriggling from her brother’s grip. “john, please, get off.”

he readjusted his glasses, pushing them further up his nose, and as he stepped aside he noticed the stranger behind his baby sister, and his eyebrows knitted together. the glance that protruded through the blue tint in the glasses told her everything she needed to know, and Y/N shook her head aggressively.

“are you two-”

“-oh, god no,” she attempted to scoot forward, out of the situation, and then she realised it made her look guilty. the stranger smirked.

“we just took the same elevator, didn’t we-” it was at that point that he realised he didn’t even ask for her name. he’d seen her name on the side of busses, on TV talk shows, and read it many times in the group chat where john sung her praises so much, but he couldn’t remember it, so he smiled across at her. “-princess.”

she scowled, biting her tongue at the stranger now in front of her. john shifted on his feet, the nickname he called his baby sister not going unnoticed. it was then that the stranger realised how alike they were, so much so they could’ve been twins - she had his eyes, they held the same demeanour, and the way they smiled was pretty much identical.

“i hope you didn’t give him a blowjob in the elevator, Y/N,” john scoffed, a little smirk on his face. Y/N hit her brother with a backhand, the red sting landing directly on his bicep, and the stranger smirked, kissing his teeth. john wagged his finger in the stranger’s direction, “you're laughing now, mason, but if you-”

“-okay, john? all he did in that elevator was piss me off, i can assure you there was nothing going on.”

Y/N was so busy scolding her brother she didn’t even realise until afterwards that he’d given her the strangers name — mason. the music thumped underneath her feet, and she heard some familiar voices calling her name from within the party, and when she turned to face the voices - jack, kyle and marcus - all waving her over among strobe lights and a haze of smoke.

“is that a good or a bad thing?” john called after mason, who was already heading in the direction of a few of his friends. john shut the door, and with a chuckle, followed after mason, “mason, is that a good or a bad thing?”

i hope you enjoyed!!! lemme know thoughts!!

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x fem reader #footballer x reader #footballer x fem reader #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount fluff #mason mount blurb #footballer fluff #footballer blurb #footballer imagine #footballer smut

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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

Text

Withered

Request 1: Technoblade succumbs to the voices and accidentally hurts the reader

-requested by: anonymous

(Technoblade x female reader)

~~~

Everyone had good days and bad days, recently Technoblade’s life had more of those good days thanks to a certain woman who entered his world. She came in like a whirlwind, messing with his emotions to a point which he never dreamed would be possible. When Phil introduced her to him a few years ago, he thought nothing of the women at first. She was ballsy, matching his sarcasm and snark immediately after meeting him. Not to mention beautiful in his opinion, he thought that might be why Phil kept her around at first. Then he saw her metal working abilities and the weapons she created and he fell hard. Especially when he saw the things she could do with gold, god one day when she visited him covered head to toe in gold jewelry...Techno almost jumped her that day. Even if he didn’t fully understand his feelings at the time Phil knew something was up with his mild-mannered friend. He had to break it to Techno in an awkward conversation that spanned twenty minutes that he might have a crush on the girl. Technoblade laughed in his face at the suggestion, it took a raised eyebrow and another visit from her where she was dripping gold that he finally figured out what exactly Phil meant by a crush.

It took another year of him only falling harder for you to finally ask you on your first date. Now here they were years later completely enamored with one another, though Technoblade was less likely to show it. He was forever the stoic protector but he melted under your touch, the tough man was wrapped around your gold-clad fingers.

Today, however, was a rare bad day.

To start it off, Technoblade slept in later than he would’ve liked and woke up with a splitting headache. The voices which were usually a constant hum, sometimes making snide or unhelpful comments were screaming in his ear. Techno tried to fight it, he did. He tried to think of anything else other than the sweet taste of blood and the beautiful sight of gore tainting the white snow outside. He tried to think of your hands caressing his face, or the sweet smell of pomegranates and oak wood that he came to associate with you. Technoblade pressed his palms to his closed eyes and rubbed them in a circle, trying desperately to release the built-up pressure. He let out a puff of air through his nose. As he opened his eyes his pupils shrunk considerably, and they glazed over. Techo’s usual sharp senses felt dull and muddled especially his smell. All he heard was the thousands of voices that demanded blood, immediately needing to be satiated lest he wished to lose himself fully to them. Through their screaming, he heard shuffling downstairs someone was in his house, an intruder. A snarl erupted from his throat as he tore the down comforter away from his body, shredding it in the process sending chicken feathers flying everywhere.

He tore his cape from its resting place and connected it across his shoulders, he took his sword from its place on the wall. Technoblade gripped the weapon so tight his knuckles turned white, the voices only increasing in their restlessness and volume as he made contact with the sword. They knew blood was near and was about to be spilled. He slid down the ladder effortlessly and into his kitchen, the smell of bread was seemingly so strong it assaulted his dulled nostrils. Narrowing his eyes he noticed movement in the kitchenette,

A figure stood there seemingly unbothered by his presence, the voices demanded blood and who was he to deny them their sacrifice.

Bottles and plates fell to the floor and shattered as he charged at the figure. He knocked over the table and more things thudded to the ground, in his wake. The person stumbled back but it didn’t matter, Technoblade would catch them and gut them for even thinking about entering his home. He pulled his sword back a deep growl rumbling in his throat, the person let out a sound and Technoblade put his hand around their throat. Squeezing down, successfully cutting off their airflow, the hands reached up and he felt their nails dig into the skin of his hand. He only smiled wider as the voices urged him to continue, loving the way the intruder was wiggling and desperate against his hand. Even as he felt blood pool on his own hand from their fingernails he still had satisfaction in seeing them suffer. The figure was completely and utterly at the piglins mercy, he lifted them into the air seeing their legs begin to kick out as they dangled. Technoblade leaned forward, thousands of voices chanted the same phrase in his head,

“Blood for the blood god,” He spit at the figure as he drove his sword into their chest they let out a scream of agony. Their face twisted up but even through that, they grabbed at the back of Techno’s head, bringing it down and into the side of their neck.

Pomegranates and oak flooded his senses, and the voices were immediately silenced. They were silenced almost shamefully as the fog cleared in his mind and the figure materialized in front of him. As his senses returned, his pupils blew back to their normal shape and size and he was brought back to the reality of the situation by loud, gurgled choking. His head snapped back and he locked eyes with yours, face blue and splotchy, blood dribbling down your chin.

“Tech...no…”

“Heh? What…? Princess? Princess!…(Y/n)...no...NO!” His eyes widened in frantic despair removing the hand from around your neck, you let in a gulp of much-needed air into your lungs. He caught you before you could fall, his entire body was shaking in a way he didn’t know it could, for once in his life he was scared. His sword was still embedded in your chest, even through his panic, he knew taking it out would only make everything worse in the long run. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His big hands cupped your face brushing the hair out of your eyes, sweat was sticking to your forehead as your face scrunched up in agony. “I know baby, I know. It hurts, I’m sorry…hang in there for me my dear one,” Techno rested you down on the ground on your back watching you wince once more. He stood up, desperately needing to get his spare health potions and bandages. He was tugged back a little by his cape. He knelt back down to look at you in the eyes, they scrunched up in the way he loved so much when you smiled.

Why were you smiling? This was not the time to smile!

“Don’t le...ave. St...ay?”

“Oh, Princess. Don’t be cringe okay? I’ll be back I need to get you health potions and bandages. I’ll be right back, I love you.” Technoblade sputtered, out in a panic. Although his words were nothing but the truth; Technoblade loved you more than the stars in the sky. If you asked him to he’d find a way to gift the stars to you in a heartbeat.

“Lo...ve you too.” He felt you release his cape and he bolted gathering all the materials he could need to heal your wound. Stumbling back into the room he dumped his supplies onto the floor and knelt beside you, he gently caressed your cheek.

“I need to pull the sword out, here.” He handed you a thick piece of cloth, “Bite down for me okay?” He watched you nod and stick the cloth in your mouth, and bite down onto the fabric. He grabbed the hilt of the sword and yanked it out of you in one go, he tossed it across the floor like it scalded his skin. Your back arched in pain, tears weld up in your eyes as you let out a pitiful-sounding moan. In another situation that was much more intimate, he might’ve found your body language insanely attractive. He moved quickly putting pressure on the wound as blood bubbled up from the gash in your chest, it reminded him of Wilbur’s wound, he shook his head pushing the thought away. You weren’t like Wilbur you weren’t going to die and certainly not by his fucked up hand.

He wouldn’t let you.

“Good girl. You’re being such a good girl, please hang in there.” He pleaded grabbing the needle and the stitching thread, he quickly dipped the needle in antiseptic, “another deep breath for me.” He commanded you, once again he watched you nod before having the needle enter your skin. Whines of pain spilled from your throat, you tried your best to be as still as humanly possible and Technoblade commended you for your efforts. Eventually, it was stitched closed and Techno put gauze over the stitching to make sure it was protected. Tears were rolling down your cheeks as Technoblade turned to look at you, now he could tend to your less serious wounds. The bruising around your neck was dark and splotchy and in the shape of his hands, he felt guilt tear at his heart once again. He uncorked the regeneration potion and put your head in his lap, he gently removed the rag and poured the contents down your throat. Techno watched as you immediately relaxed in his arms breathing evening out only slightly, you’d certainly need way more than just one potion.

Technoblade let out a sigh of relief gently cradling you in his arms, you immediately snuggled into them and he melted. He made sure to wipe away any tears that still spilled from your beautiful eyes. You were going to be alright, but he’d never forgive himself for hurting you, he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to you if you chose to stay by his side. He carried you up to his bedroom and was taken aback by the number of feathers floating around the air. He’d need a new down comforter too now? Why was he such a monster in this state? He laid you down on the bed kissing your forehead lightly, you weakly leaned into the kiss and smiled up at him through lidded eyes.

“Get some rest,” Technoblade whispered “I’m going to make some more potions and call Phil. If you need me just shout, I won’t be far.” He watched you nod sleepily as he tucked you into more blankets. He swallowed thickly reluctantly turning away from you and heading back down the ladder. After all, he was starting to smell the stench of burning bread, which was unpleasant. He descended and immediately frowned miserably at the sight before him, everything was trashed. Glass and porcelain littered the floor as well as a ruined breakfast that you were clearly in the process of making for the both of them. His favorite too, he stepped carefully over the mess and pulled the bread out of the oven with your oven mitts. He was right it was unsalvageable he sighed opening the window and tossing it outside for something else to devour if they saw fit. Sending a quick message to Phil that he needed help and as many regeneration potions that he had, he hoped he didn’t freak the old man out too much.

Technoblade rolled up his sleeves and got to cleaning up his mess. By the time Phil flew in most of the mess was cleaned up, but the old man looked frantic, he had an entire bag filled with potions with him.

“What’s wrong? Who’s hurt?” Were the first questions out of his mouth, “Is (Y/n) alright?”

Technoblade’s jaw clenched and he refused to look anywhere but at Phil.

“Techno?”

“I lost control, Phil. Hurt her...the voices were so loud. I stabbed her, she almost died because of me.” His voice cracked a little as his hands clenched and shook at his sides, Phil bit his lip before hesitantly reaching out to wrap Technoblade in a hug. Surprisingly he melted in Phil’s arms rather easily,

“She knows you didn’t mean it mate…” He spoke softly rubbing circles on his lower back, “she’ll forgive you-”

“But that’s the problem! She shouldn’t! This could happen again but this time I won’t be able to snap out of it. I could kill her, and that would kill me.”

“But she will because she loves you.” Phil placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders pulling away from him, “we’ll come up with a plan. Talk about what happened this time, what possibly triggered it, and what snapped you out of it. You aren’t hopeless mate. We’ll fix this, (Y/n), and I are here for you no matter what, remember that.” Techno dragged his hands down his cheeks and gave a small nod of understanding. “Now, take these potions to her and stay by her side. I’ll finish cleaning up and guard against any other dangers alright? You just worry about helping (Y/n) get better.”

“Alright…” Techno murmured taking the bag of potions from his friend before ascending the ladder back to you. You were asleep, your breathing was soft and shallow but you were alive at least. Gently, he splashed the potions on top of you, you were completely knocked out not even feeling the splash potion. He shucked off his cape hanging it back up against the wall, he made quick work of collecting all of the feathers that he could put away. He lifted the covers off you and crawled into bed by your side, he gently wrapped his arms around you careful of your wound. He cradled you gently kissing the side of your neck, still asleep you cuddled yourself more into his body heat. He brushed your hair behind your ear and rested his chin on the top of your head. From now on he’d make sure to be better, better for you, better for Phil, and better for himself. He’d protect you through thick and thin and if anyone dared hurt you again he’d rip them apart, and god forbid if he hurt you again. He’d never forgive himself. This couldn’t happen again, he wouldn’t let it. Even if he had to give up all his lives trying, you were his Princess after all.

~~~

Hope you enjoyed and it met up to your expectations! Next up is C!Philza simping over reader!

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aweecrush · 2 years

Text

THE NIGHT AFTER - After they finally get their GCSE results, the girls celebrate their success.

Say what you want about Jenny Joyce (it's probably very accurate anyway), but there's one thing that you can't deny about her: the girl knows how to throw a party.

Well, has learnt to, really. Before, it was really nice because of the house and the sheer amount of- well, everything. Having a doctor Dad certainly seemed to have its perks.

But with the couple parties she's held since President Clinton's visit (and that they miraculously managed to sneak in), it was something else. There was still the great stuff, of course, but even better, with a significant amount of booze added, a lot less schooling about what line you should stand in in the kitchen and what manners you should have using the toilets. The music was louder, the crowd just got bigger and bigger. Even Jenny seemed drunk and happy and-

Grand. It was grand.

Tonight is no exception.

The air is hot, filled with smoke and sweat. The alcohol is flowing, beer sticking to the floor where Aisling spilled it as she tried to hold her beer on her head. The Spice Girls had been blasting for a good half an hour, nobody seeming to mind. Hands clasped in Clare's, Erin had jumped so much she'd almost gotten sick, her hair all wavy from whatever she did to it that morning and her laugh barely covered by the loud music.

There was no doubt in his mind that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Downing the last of his drink, James grabs two beers and heads upstairs, praying to whoever would listen that he won't get lost again. Not that it would be his fault, really - seriously, is there a need for so much space? One corridor, another with Lisa kissing the life out of some lad in a library left with an open door, a couple of steps, and here he is.

Well. Who said being drunk couldn't make the mind sharper? He certainly struggled a lot more the last time he was up here, and he hadn't had anything to drink.

He barely has time to close the door he's interested in behind him before she jumps on him, legs snaking around his waist and arms tight around his neck.

Jesus Christ, she smells good.

"We made it!"

"I know! I couldn't even sleep last night, I was listing all the jobs I could get without a degree. I mean, why would Sister Michael do that to us?"

Sliding off of him, Erin frowns, nose snubbed in that little annoyed expression of hers. "Aye, I know." Itching to make it go away, James sets the bottles on the night table next to them and frames her face, bumping his own nose with hers playfully. When she smiles and grabs his shirt at the front to pull him even closer, the familiar butterflies go wild in his stomach.

"But we made it."

"We made it."

Jesus, they did. He still can't believe it, really. "Thank you for helping me with Math - I wouldn't have managed it without ye, you know."

"Of course you would have."

One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows raises. "James." He winces.

"Alright, maybe not. You still would have passed, though."

Shaking her head, Erin puts one, two far too short kisses on his lips, a cheeky smirk on hers when he moans, leaning in for more.

"Well, my Ma certainly doesn't think so - if you weren't her favorite before, which you were, you definitely are now. She says you should come for tea on Sunday, by the way - she'll make your favorite and everything."

James grins. "I'd love to." God bless Mary Quinn and her cooking. Although -

"Do you think she knows? About us, I mean. It's just, she's been even nicer to me lately."

Draping her arms around his neck distractingly, Erin pulls him even closer, and he puts a couple of kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, her eyes wandering around the room as she ponders.

"I dunno," she shrugs after a while. "I mean, I always make something up when I go to see just you, and she hasn't seemed suspicious."

Her eyes meet his again, and it's all he can do not to let his fuzzy, wasted, very happy mind take over and kiss her senseless. "She did eye your necklace funny the other day, but I mean - she would have said something, right? Plus, the girls still haven't caught on, so -"

This time, it's his time to raise one of his so-called well inherited eyebrows. "I think we can give your mum more credit than that, Erin."

"Well, we're together all the time!"

"Exactly! And they still haven't figured it out. Not at the sleepover at our house last month -"

"We were all really drunk though."

"- not that time at school -"

"In their defense, Jenny arrived at the perfect time to distract them - thank Jesus."

"- they still haven't noticed the necklaces -"

"Maybe they have! I have the half heart with Clare, Michelle and I kind of have a similar one - it's just not that suspicious."

"- they still don't realize it when we sneak out to -"

"Well, we're being really smart and discreet, James."

"Erin, I held your hand the whole time in the police car last night!"

Laughing, Erin just closes the distance, and James is more than happy to follow her lead as she kisses him, a wide smile he can feel against his lips on her face, her fingers in his curls.

He may only be sixteen (and arguably, be very wasted), but he knows that this day (this night) will always remain one of the best of his life.

When they eventually part, the green of her eyes sparkling so much, it makes his heart beat even faster, he pecks her nose, the corner of her mouth. She returns the favour, her painted lips probably leaving traces all over his face.

Not that he cares, really. He's more than happy to let her do it all night, if she wants.

"Thank ye for that, by the way," she mumbles after a while, looking back at him.

His hands tightens just a bit around her.

"You're welcome. Although to be honest, I needed it just as much," and she chuckles softly.

"It really was scary, wasn't it," she breathes, still a little shaken.

He lets his hand travel on her back, her shoulders. Feels her snuggle even closer, if possible. "It was. You handled it so well, though."

Pink rises to her cheeks. "It was all uncle Colm - thank Jesus for him."

"It was you who thought of calling him - and who stood up to that prick of an officer. You're my hero."

She flushes straight to her hairline this time, and he can't help but grin at how adorable she looks.

"Aye, catch yourself on, James - you just want to get into my pants."

"Well, I'll admit I am planning on snogging you for the rest of the night," and she punches his shoulder, pretending to move away from him.

He holds her even closer, the smell of her perfume and her fingers on the back of his neck making him dizzy in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol very much running into his veins. "I'm serious, though."

He bumps their noses, makes sure she's looking at him. "You're amazing, Erin."

There's a mix of doubt and fear and awe in her eyes, her red lips slightly parted. Her chest rising almost visibly. The tamed light of the room makes pretty shadows on her pretty face, and he just -

Shit, but he's in so much trouble.

Letting his forehead drop against hers, James kisses the corner of her lips before meeting her gaze again. "I'm so in love with you."

As shitfaced as he is, James swears, his heart misses a beat at that look on her face then. That smile.

Fuck.

Gripping his shirt, Erin raises herself on her toes to meet him even better.

"You know, I think I may be very much in love with you too, English. Now, lock the door."

#jerin #james x erin #erin x james #derry girls #alright i wrote that in an hour at work so no #it's not perfect #just had to get it out i guess #series 3 #fanfiction

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bokuroskitten · 3 years

Text

𝔅𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔢

✠ pairing: Drummer Bokuto x Bassist Kuroo x Fan!reader

✠ word count: 1.9k

✠ warnings: 18+ content, MINORS DNI; dubcon (coercion/power imbalance), oral (m! receiving), cockwarming, use of a vibrator, double penetration (oral and v!), unprotected sex, creampie, branding (kuroo burns you with his cigarette)

❦ hello loves, this post is for @loveatsutani music festival collab Rolling Loud! This was so fun to write and definitely something different to what I’m used to! Check out the other wonderful writers right here. Please let me know what you all think!

The clubs were always so loud, always so grungy. Sweat covered bodies always filled the small dance floor space. Pupils dilated and bodies being controlled by the music. Really you should find another hobby, rather than attending every one of these gigs.

But you’d never stop following them. Especially now. Now that they noticed you.

Now that they whisper “Our sweet little fangirl” when they rail you in their dressing room filled with the scent of cheap tequila and cigarettes.

Kuroo let out a puff of smoke from his lips, thick and slow as he let it fog up the air in the small space the three of you currently occupied. His thighs were spread wide, wide enough to give you enough space to crawl between them.

You kept your eyes on him the whole time, wide, teary, and so very eager to please. Finally he brought his gaze back down to you when you muffled around his cock, a bit of drool dripping down your chin and onto his balls.

“What is it? Jaw gettin’ tired?” Kuroo finally mumbled around his cigarette, his tattooed fingers combing through your hair. He looked down at you, watched you try to muffle a response with your mouth stuffed. He chuckled softly, fingers slowly curling into the hair at the nape of your neck as he looked back up at Bokuto.

The drummer was wrapping tape around his knuckles, bruised and battered from a night of heavy playing. When he realized Kuroo’s eyes on him he gave him a wink. “Baby’s getting impatient already, huh? Shame.”

You squirmed at that, the grip Kuroo now had on your hair keeping you in place as Bokuto approached. He noticed the way your thighs were already pressing together and couldn’t help but lift your skirt up with his foot.

“Ah, that’s why she’s getting so impatient. She’s dripping already.” Bokuto spoke with a grin. And he was right, your pussy was already puffy, glistening in the dim light of the dressing room. Kuroo pulled your panties from his pocket, threw them at Bokuto which made both musicians laugh. “M’ not surprised, her panties were already wet when she threw them at us on stage.”

“I’m sure the vibator helped too..” Bokuto said with a grin, pulling a little remote from his pocket. When he pressed the plus button on it you jolted a bit, moaning around Kuroo’s cock as the toy within you sped up.

Yes, the little toy had been in you all night. When they handed it to you at the end of their last gig they specifically said “You have to wear it to every show.” And who were you to deny your idols?

Finally Kuroo tugged on your hair, pulled you slowly off his cock until it slipped from your lips with a slick pop. His length was hard and wet as it smacked against your cheek. Your face was flush, drool still connecting your lips to his cock when Bokuto gave your cheek a couple of gentle pats.

“C’mon baby, gunna fuck ya now. You want that, don’t ya?”

They knew your answer, of course they did. You tried to speak, voice raspy and lips a little sore from the stretch. “Y-Yes please, please fuck me….”

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty.” Kuroo murmured, not wanting to waste another second. He lifted you up into the couch, ushered you onto your hands and knees. Bokuto lazily pulled his cock free from his jeans, tattooed knuckles working along his length as he situated himself in front of you.

“Show me those pretty tits.” He encouraged thick brows pulled together in amusement as you pushed your tank top down, enough for your breasts to spill free. “No bra huh? You’re always so ready for us baby.”

“Course she is, cause she’s our good little fangirl. Isn’t that right angel?” Kuroo spoke from behind you, lean fingers easing the still vibrating toy from your pussy. You nodded, lips lulling open for Bokuto’s cock as he jerked himself hard.

Bokuto actually laughed, seeing your watery eyes and your mouth hung. Guess being in a band really had it perks. He pushed his cock between your plush lips, groaning at the warmth your mouth offered him. All the while Kuroo pressed the vibe against your clit, making your cheeks hollow out around Bokuto.

“That’s it…” Bokuto spoke through gritted teeth, one of his palms grabbing at your breast to massage it as he sunk his cock into your mouth. He didn’t stop until he felt your nose brush against his trimmed pubic hair, the subtle feeling of your throat closing around him making him shudder.

Kuroo then decided it was his turn, cigarette still dangling from his lips as he pushed his cock between your welcoming folds. Your pussy was quick to swallow him up, velvet walls giving him a loving squeez as he bottomed out in you. Almost like he was the perfect fit.

“This cunt will never get enough of us, huh pretty?” Kuroo mumbled, giving your ass a lazy smack that had you jolting. Bokuto hummed in agreement, one hand firmly planted on the back of your neck so he could fuck into your mouth.

“She’ll always come back to us, our pretty little fangirl is never going to leave now that she’s gotten a taste.” Bokuto spoke through moans, the momentum of his hips into your mouth fucking you onto Kuroo’s cock.

And of course you took it all, despite the way Bokuto’s cock choked you every time it went into your throat, despite the way Kuroo filled up every inch of your pussy, despite the way your body sat on the edge of pleasure and pain due to the overstimulation.

You took everything they offered to you. You were their precious little fangirl after all, and all you wanted to do was show them just how much you loved them, supported them.

No matter what.

Bokuto gave your hair a little yank as your jaw began to tighten up, a small sigh leaving his lips. “You know better than that love, keep that mouth of yours slack.”

Once Kuroo’s cigarette was done he finally decided to thrust into your cunt. His eyes widened with some sort of sick pleasure as he pressed the end of his cigarette into your ass, watching the way it made your skin instantly turn red. You squealed around Bokuto, drool bubbling from your lips at the sudden pain on your ass.

“Shh baby, you’re okay you’re okay….” His fingers were gentle as they ran over the fresh burn, the smirk on his face only getting bigger when your pussy fluttered around his cock. “Gotta mark what’s our’s right? Don’t you want everyone to know you belong to us?”

Your eyes were shiny with tears now. You did your best to nod while your mouth was stuffed with Bokuto’s cock.

But they knew. They knew you’d take anything they gave you, and would accept anything they did to you.

Both males now had a steady pace, Kuroo held your ass cheeks apart to watch his cock sink in and out of your dripping cunt while Bokuto had his eyes squeezed shut. His balls slapped against your chin as his orgasm approached, a string of curses falling past his pierced lips.

“Fuck, swallow it baby. Swallow every drop.”

You did your best to relax your throat, tried to focus on Bokuto and the strings of warm cum he released into your mouth while Kuroo drilled into you.

You still managed to swallow his thick load down, sputtering around his cock and spitting drool down your chin.

“Good girl.” Bokuto sighed, his cock slipping from your lips. He wiped it over your cheek, considering it was already covered in spit, and grabbed at your jaw.

He tilted your head up, made sure there was no cum left on your tongue before he placed a soft kiss against your forehead.

“You always swallow every drop like a good girl. Now you gotta make Kuroo come. You can do that, can't you?”

Fat tears sat in your lashes as you desperately leaned into Bokuto’s warm touch. You always took every ounce of affection they offered you, even if it was in very small doses.

“Yes, yes I can. Want him to come inside.”

That had Kuroo growling, his hips suddenly picking up in a pace that had his heavy balls slapping against your clit.

“Oh yeah? Gonna let me cum inside are you? What a good girl. Letting me fill this tight hole full.”

His excitement was getting the better of him. In his right mind he knew it was a bad idea to finish in a fan, especially without protection on. But when you arch your back for him, stick your ass out further and look over your shoulder at him.

With those desperately pathetic eyes, lips almost in a pout.

All sense seemed to spill from his mind. Instead he just focused on the way your pussy squeezed him, milked him for everything he was worth.

All the while Bokuto squeezed your chest, littered bite marks and hickeys without a care of placement.

You wouldn’t hide them anyway. You wanted everyone to know you were theirs.

The grip Kuroo had on your ass was certainly going to leave bruises, but he couldn’t stop. Not when he was so close and you were moaning so perfectly. His hips snapped against your ass, making the skin ripple as he grunted put through gritted teeth.

“Take it, take every drop.”

When he spilled within your walls you sighed in relief, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks as he fucked it into you, deeper and deeper with each sloppy thrust. You had finished right along with him, the feeling of his cum filling you up enough to send you over the edge.

“Thank you, thank you thank you…” Your words were nothing but mumbles, pushed out between whines as Bokuto slowly released you and let you sink into the cushions. Kuroo was slow to pull out of you, his eyes glued to the thin ring of cum that sat at the base of his cock.

“Fuck me….” He spoke, nodding Bokuto over to watch as he spread your pussy open with two fingers, despite the way you tried to squirm away. Your hole was fluttering around nothing now, cum spilling from it and threatening to slip between your thighs.

But Bokuto didn’t allow that. Instead he used two fingers to push the mess back into your cunt, making you groan softly.

“My turn angel. You wanna be filled with both of us, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for your response before he started rubbing his cock between your slick folds, wetting his length for a smooth entrance.

But he didn’t need an answer. Your fucked out little smile was enough for him. You were their little fangirl after all, and what would be better than going back out into the crowd, a mixture of their cum dribbling down your trembling thighs

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Left Behind - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - #01 "Muddy Waters"

Summary: The one where you lived in the apartment under the Maximoff family in Sokovia, or, your journey as a Sokovian civilian to Avenger.

A/N: i want to know what people think of this, I feel like it's sounds good in my head but not exactly good in words. Also, this is shorter than what i usually write, i'm trying the "short" chapters a while.

Warnings (under constructions): Violence, mentions of fighting, cursing, light power abuse, war environments.

Words: 2.769 K

Dictionary for this chapter: Parshivets - brat || bratan - brother || dvornyaga - mutt || plague - chuma || Prostite - sorry || Vrediteli - pests || svin'ya - pig || devochka - girl || borot'sya - fight

All Works Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Part Two || Series Masterlist

//-//

Chapter One - Muddy Waters

Sokovia, 11 years ago.

You ran to catch up with one of the boys who was running away from you.

You didn't know his name, but you think he lived in the apartment below you, and since everyone always played together, and there were many children, you didn't know everyone's name. The only thing you really needed to know was who you had to pick up.

"Parshivets!" You heard your brother's voice shout through the window into the area where you were. "Come to dinner!"

"I'm kidding, bratan" You retorted as you stopped running and looked up, gesturing to your apartment window.

"Come up now, papa is telling you to!" Your brother ordered before sticking his head inside again.

Grumbling angrily, you waved goodbye to the other children.

When you reached your floor, you saw the Maximoff twins coming out of their apartment, and smiled at Pietro who noticed you from down the hall.

You hoped that your father would let you play with them later.

//-//

There was dust covering your eyes and nose.

You coughed, running your hand over your face, trying to understand what was happening around you, the sound of sirens and explosions muffled by the ringing in your ear.

"Papa?" You called out with hoarseness in your voice, still somewhat aroused. You blinked and realized that what was your room was now just a pile of rubble.

Feeling a sharp pain in your torso, you looked down, letting out a surprised exclamation at the iron wedged in your belly. You whimpered in pain, trying to move. "Papa." You called out again, completely confused and frightened.

You heard voices in the distance, and sounds on the rocks, but your eyes began to heavy again. Maybe you were going to fall asleep, and maybe sleep would take the pain away, so you closed your eyes.

//-//

"She needs medical assistance." A male voice sounded muffled in your ears. You blinked in confusion, the sky above you as something moved below. You were being carried.

"We have vacancies in district twelve." Said someone on the other side, you tried to look, but your whole body ached and you grumbled. The noise attracted the attention of the soldier carrying you on the stretcher, and he looked at you tenderly.

"Don't worry, kid." He spoke. "We found you in time. You are safe."

You felt your throat dry, and you wanted to ask for water, but you were too weak to speak.

"Papa." It was the only thing you could mumble before everything went dark again.

//-//

When you awoke again, you had a large white bandage around your waist, and the pain had subsided greatly. You were in one of the medical tents that you had seen once in the distance when you ran past the area where the soldiers were staying.

You looked around, frightened and confused, trying to understand what had happened. There was a man in a black suit walking around the stretchers, a notepad in his hands.

"Another casualty." He comments as he scribbles something on the sheet after looking at the girl lying a few beds ahead of his. You felt your stomach turn when you realized she wasn't actually asleep the second after. "It's already twenty-four."

The nurse next to him grumbled in agreement, and then she looked forward and noticed you awake, a gentle smile filling her expression as she turned away from the man to walk over to you.

You drank all the water she served you, and accepted the hug she gave you after telling you that your father and brother did not survive the attack. The man in black tried to reassure you that the orphanage in the district was the best in Sokovia, but you kept crying.

//-//

You stood still with your hands behind your back while the nurse measured your height.

"Look how well behaved you are." She comments with a smile, making you smile as well. She takes a few notes on the placard in front of you and then stoops down to your height. "Are you ready to join the other children?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, denying with your head. The nurse tilts her head to the side slightly.

"You don't have to be afraid." She says. "You're a big girl now, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." You reply.

"Then why are you scared?"

You shrug, looking down. The nurse sighs lightly, looking toward the door. You know that the children who have already been evaluated are outside the hospital, waiting for the bus from the orphanage.

"I miss my brother." You mumble softly next, causing the woman to glare at you. "He was better at playing than I was. And he always introduced me to the other children."

"You're going to have a lot of brothers now." It was the best thing the woman could think to say, and you nodded in understanding, ignoring the urge to cry. She handed you a lollipop on the way out and told you to behave. You said you would, but your fingers were crossed behind your back.

//-//

The orphanage was a dirty, dark place. The building was old and made strange noises if you stepped in certain places. And there were many children.

The war in Sokovia had left many marks on their country, and it was noticeable in places like this.

You were going to share the north dormitory with fifteen other children, and you had several rules to follow in your new home. The orphanage sisters repeated the guidelines all the way to the building as you walked down the bus corridor. You talked to no one along the way, your attention on the landscape visible through the window.

When you arrived, and were taken to your rooms to put on your uniforms and get ready for dinner and to be assigned the tasks you had started in the morning, you followed obediently, without really being present in the environment. Everything seemed a bit stuffy.

//-//

You stopped sweeping when the sound of voices caught your attention. And well, they caught the attention of all the other girls who were on the same shift as you, because they all looked away, and rushed to the windows to look out. You imitated the movement, and you could see outside a small circle of children forming in the backyard. It was a fight.

Your classmates ran outside, and you sighed, figuring that you weren't going to finish sweeping by yourself, so you'd better join them.

When you reached the small mess, you observed two boys pushing each other in the circle, exchanging insults, but not really hitting each other. The other orphans watched the scene curiously, waiting for the fight to escalate. You hoped this wouldn't happen, since the taller boy was accompanied by three others.

"You're a cheater, aren't you Maximoff?" Accused the blond boy with irritation. You blinked in surprise as you recognized the smaller boy. Your former neighbor, Pietro.

"And you're a bad loser, Sidorov." Retorted the other boy taking a step back to avoid the blond's hands.

"I'm not a loser, cheater." Sidorov thundered, lunging forward again and pushing Pietro to the ground.

You and the small crowd held your breath. The blond boy stepped forward again and hit Pietro in the nose.

Sidorov's friends laughed and Pietro grabbed the blond by the legs, knocking him to the ground. As they rolled in the dirt, the orphans began to shout "borot'sya" and you looked around. Your gaze caught Wanda Maximoff moving through the crowd and advancing toward her brother.

One of Sidorov's friends held her by the arms and she shouted at them to stop fighting. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race. You weren't friends with the twins, and you had no desire to get into a fight that wasn't yours. But they were the most familiar thing around at the moment, so your feet were moving.

You broke through the crowd and grabbed the garden hose, running toward the direction of the fight again. Sidorov was mounted on Pietro having managed to immobilize him, but before he could land the punch, you wrapped the hose around his neck and pulled him backward.

As he let out an exclamation of pain and surprise and fell backwards, trying to shake off the grip, you pulled Pietro off the ground.

"You could have killed me, girl!" gasped the boy on the ground with hatred in his eyes, their friends let go of Wanda to advance against you and Pietro, but someone shouted that the nuns were coming and you grabbed Pietro and Wanda's hand, pulling them to run away with you.

//-//

Breathing hard, you propped your hands on your knee.

"Did we lose them?" Pietro asked just as breathless as you. Wanda looked back, equally tired from the race.

"Yes." She replied as she looked around.

"Great." You grumbled standing up properly. You cleared your throat and shifted your weight between your feet, not knowing exactly what to say next. Pietro approached you, extending his hand.

"Thanks for helping me out back there." He says with a smile. You ignore his hand to raise your finger toward the bruise on his left eye, but you don't touch your face, leaving your finger in the air pointing toward the wound.

"You look like a badass now." You tease, causing the boy to laugh with flushed cheeks. "It's better than your dorky face at least."

"Hey." He retorts with false offense, still smiling. You look at Wanda next, and she is already looking at you curiously.

"You are Y/N." Wanda says. "You lived in the apartment downstairs."

Looking away, you mutter in agreement.

"We didn't know that other people survived the collapse." Pietro comments next, and you nod.

"Well, here we are." You say with irony, causing Wanda and Pietro to frown. Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't like to talk about it."

"It's okay, neither do I." Wanda commented and you gave her a short smile.

"We should get back." You say next, and the twins nod in agreement.

You walk ahead, kicking up a few rocks on the way, looking back a few times to see if they are still behind you.

They are.

//-//

Sokovia, ten years ago.

"Time to wake up little brats"

You grumbled in irritation as you heard the voice of the nursemaid, then the shrill noise of the bell. Gingerly rummaging in your covers, you got out of bed, equally as all your dorm mates.

"Today the governor will visit the orphanage and I expect you to be on your best behavior, or know that you will be punished if you embarrass Father Novikov." Warned Madame Ivanov, the housekeeper of the Sokovia Municipal Orphanage, or your home since the apartment complex where you lived was destroyed when a bomb fell on the structure during one of the civil war conflicts. "This will be my only warning to you, Vrediteli, I will take special care of those who do not behave."

Madama Ivanov looked directly at you, and you clenched your jaw, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes.

"Bath and breakfast." She ordered next. "And after chores, everyone properly dressed in the main courtyard."

Your colleagues moved first than you as soon as Madame left the room. You sighed, sitting up in bed. You hadn't slept very well the night before, dreaming of explosions again. But you didn't have time to think about it, and yawning, you got up again, heading toward the bathrooms.

//-//

You were covered from head to toe in mud. Madame Ivanov and Madame Pavlova looked at you wide-eyed, as did the rest of the room, and you swallowed hard. The room was completely silent, no one ventured to say anything. The perfectly aligned suit of the governor of Sokovia, now with a dark mud stain on his chest.

"Oh, look at this." The man spoke next, you remained static, staring at him wide-eyed. He chuckled, and you almost relaxed. Then a loud slap hit your face and you gasped in pain and surprise. "Do you have any idea how much that suit cost me, pest?" He asked between teeth, and you felt your stomach turn in anger. The man threatened to advance toward you again, and you didn't hesitate to punch him in the balls, drawing an angry exclamation from him and shocked sighs from all your colleagues.

"Don't ever touch me again, svin'ya" You retorted angrily before running away, intending to escape the punishment of the sisters who were sure to catch up with you eventually.

When you stopped running, you were many blocks from the orphanage, a spot below your ribs hurting badly. The mud dried against your skin and you grunted in disgust at the sensation.

Changing the direction of your steps, you snuck through the alleyways of the city, ignoring the looks of disapproval and curiosity people cast at the sight of a ten-year-old covered in mud in the outlying part of town.

You reached the small laundromat in the mall a few minutes later, and snuck into the northern outer entrance, trying not to be seen by the employees as you reached one of the tanks. Fortunately it was lunchtime, and the place was quite empty. You cleared your throat as you reached one of the windows, and the noise attracted the attention of the girl inside, distracted by the dirty fabrics in her hands.

"Damn it, you' scare the shit out of me!" Wanda exclaimed to you, and you laughed expectantly. She opened the window latch next, and you jumped in. "Why are you covered in mud? And why are you here?"

You shrugged, taking off your T-shirt and pants. Wanda hurried to fill a bucket of water as you walked over to one of the empty faucets, leaning over to wash your face.

Clean, you sighed.

"Sorry for showing up unannounced." You ask remembering Wanda's work rules. She would wake up earlier than you, and go to work in the laundry while you and Pietro would take any service you could get since steady jobs like Wanda's were very difficult. And since labor laws didn't apply to children, you and Pietro took Wanda's lunch whenever possible, and helped her wash clothes so she wouldn't be so tired. The rule was always to let her know because her boss couldn't find out about it.

"No problem." She retorts as she looks around for dry clothes for you. "But will you tell me what happened?"

You bite the inside of your cheeks, ducking your head.

"I was fighting." You grumbled and Wanda stopped the motion of reaching for a t-shirt in the upstairs closet, turning to you next with a worried look.

"Again, devochka?" She asked as she approached and used her hand to gently lift your chin up, searching your face for any sign of injury. Without the mud, the purple in your left eye was visible.

"Prostite, Wanda." You muttered in shame, but Wanda sighed shaking her head.

"Why were you fighting?"

You shrugged and Wanda bit her lips. "I tried to kick Nikolai but he shoved me in the mud, and punched me in the face. So I did as you taught me and ran. Only I ended up bumping into the governor."

Wanda's eyes widen at the story.

"So?"

You ducked your head again.

"He slapped me in the face." You say. "And I punched him in the balls."

Wanda blinked in surprise at the confession, and then laughed. You widened your eyes, surprised that she wasn't angry, and she shook her head with amusement, ruffling your hair.

"You've gone crazy." She commented. "The sisters are going to put you in charge of cleaning the bathrooms for the whole month."

You shrugged again, and Wanda walked away, going back to looking for a set of clothes for you.

"Where's Pietro?" She asked as she handed you a set of gray clothes that were probably laundry uniforms that got too old to wear.

"Gathering coal for Mr. Sidorov." You replied as you dressed. Wanda grumbled in understanding as she dipped your muddy clothes into the water.

"I'll bring your clothes to you when I'm done." She comments as she turns to you again, and you nod in agreement hurrying to climb in the window.

"Hey, Wanda." You call out before leaving, glancing at the girl as you lean on the window. "I'll bring you some candy. In thanks." You say with a smile, and don't wait for a reply, turning around.

Tag list> @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia // @ichala || @madamevirgo

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the7thcrow · 3 years

Text

600 degrees

pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

summary: you can’t cook. like, really can’t cook. good thing your cute neighbour is here to help clean up the mess.

word count: 5.1k

genre: neighbours au. strangers to lovers. the fluffiest of fluff, slightly suggestive.

warnings: a make-out session, bad humour, minho being a twat of a roommate, and tooth-rotting fluff.

rating: 14+

a/n: hi guys! hope you enjoy this one, it’s so much more wholesome and fluffy than what i usually write, but I'm pretty happy about it. don’t by shy to send me an ask or leave a comment. anything you have to say, I would love to hear. :)

...

“Fine. Since you won’t come, at least enlighten me on how you plan to keep yourself busy?” Minho asks, casually leaning against your kitchen island. He stares at you, with that familiar condescending smirk you’ve seen far too many times.

“I don’t know,” you state, rolling your eyes. Rising to your feet, you head over to your shared refrigerator, pulling a bottle of Sangria out of the fridge. “But I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“You know, if you want to drink, you could at least do it at the party.” Minho approaches you from behind, placing both his hands on your shoulders. “It’s a lot less sad that way.”

You slap his hand away, letting out a frustrated groan at the laughter he lets out from his own joke. “I get out plenty, quit acting like I’m some lonely cat lady,” you say, grabbing your favourite wine glass from the cupboard. “I like parties, I just don’t like Jisung’s parties. They always get way out of hand.”

“But Y/N,” Minho wines, picking up your freshly poured glass and taking a sip, earning himself a glare. “I never said you were a cat lady, just the lonely part.”

At that you snatch the glass away from his hands. Not wanting to deal with this torment any longer, you walk back to your comfortable, worn-in spot on the couch.

“You know I’m right,” he says, continuing despite the fact you begin to turn up the volume of the television. “And the only way you’re going to change that is by accompanying me to Jisung’s loud, out of hand parties.”

You turn to face him, raising your eyebrows. “Somehow, I doubt my soulmate associates himself with Han Jisung.”

“Well that can’t be right, because I associate myself with Han Jisung?”

“Shut up, Minho.”

Your roommate snickers to himself as he opens the fridge, taking a quick glance at everything - or for a better term, lack of anything - inside. “What are you even going to eat? There’s nothing leftover from last night.”

“I’ll make something,” you say. Frankly, you had expected the outburst of laughter, but that didn’t do anything to simmer down your growing annoyance.

“Make something?” Minho laughs, giving you an incredulous stare. “Y/N, I’ve lived with you for two years and I don’t think I’ve seen you cook anything once.”

“Hey, I can cook,” you return, wrinkling your nose. “But why would I, when I have you to do it for me?”

At this, it’s Minho’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I take that back. I don’t want you to come, have fun curling up on the couch alone with your three cats.”

“They’re literally yours.”

“Whatever,” he says, opening your front door. “Just don’t burn the apartment down, alright?”

As he closes the door, you flip him off. At first, you aren’t sure if he saw, but you’re given your answer as his laughter echoes down the hallway, fading as he walks further away.

You scowl. Of course you can cook. Well, at the very least, well enough to make a meal for one on a saturday night. Minho didn’t know what he was talking about.

Minho. Your best friend and roommate for the last two years. Man, does the guy have a way of pushing your buttons. You love him, of course. In the weird, bickering, just short of volatile friendship sort of way the two of you had developed.

Still, you can’t deny that even with his painfully irritable nature, he is still a good friend. No matter how many times you say no, he always offers to take you anywhere he goes. He pushes you out of your comfort zone. He’s there to console you when a date goes bad, or you failed a test you studied hard for. He makes all his meals for two, just because he doesn’t want you to live solely off shitty take-out.

He’s your rock. Your platonic other half. Your closest companion.

Which means you are going to prove him wrong, and then rub it in his face as much as you possibly can. Of course, because that’s what friends are for.

~~~~

Then again, maybe you wouldn’t. Or, at the very least, it was going to be exceedingly more difficult now that your apartment was full of smoke.

Covering your nose with one hand, you take the tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. If you can even call them that, as they now held a far closer resemblance to that of hockey pucks. Both in looks, and what you could assume in taste, as well.

Okay, you know chocolate chip cookies don’t really count as a decent meal, but they are the only thing you remember how to cook from when you lived at home. Or maybe you didn’t remember, based on the tray of failure sitting in front of you.

Then, to make matters even worse, your fire alarm starts going off.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath. Now you are going to have to go to the front desk, let them know everything is okay.

Maybe Minho was right, you should’ve just went to Jisung’s stupid party and eaten something there. Putting all the other painful aspects of Han’s parties aside, Felix was his roommate, so the horderves were always excellent.

They were better than your hockey puck cookies, anyway.

Letting out a disappointed sigh, you open your apartment door, prepared to get a rough scolding from the lady working the front desk. However, you are surprised to find a man standing in front of you, his hand in the air, as if he were about to knock.

“Hi,” he says, awkwardly putting his hand back down at his side. He has messy platinum blonde hair, and soft eyes. He’s cute, and the realization quickly makes you recognize him.

“You’re my neighbor,” you say, pointing a finger at him. It’s not until he doesn’t respond immediately that you realize it was a strange thing to say. Obviously, he knows he’s your neighbor, and he might be a little offended you didn’t recognize him immediately.

Then again, the two of you had never really talked before. Everytime you would pass each other in the hall, he’d always give a polite nod and continue walking. Sometimes you’d try to say hello, or start a small conversation, but he always disappeared quickly. It had gotten to the point where you assumed he had some strange, unwarranted grudge against you.

So, it was safe to say that you were more than just a little surprised to find him at your door.

“Uh, yeah, I am. Are you okay? I thought I smelt something burning, and then I heard the fire alarm go off.” He asks, peeking behind you into your apartment, seeing if he can catch sight of any flames.

Instead, his eyes land on your tray of butchered cookies, and he… smirks?

“Oh,” he says, attempting to hide the smile growing on his face. “Having some cooking trouble?”

You stare at him for a moment, watching as his lips pursed together, stifling a chuckle. “Are you...” you begin, your jaw dropping slightly. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” he looks down at you, finally letting his grin free. “I would never.”

“Yeah, okay,” you frown, already not enjoying that sarcastic look on his face. You thought you’d be able to avoid that humiliating look considering Minho wasn’t here, but apparently not.

“As you can see, it’s nothing. So if you’ll excuse me,” you continue, attempting to move past him. “I need to go get my neck rung by the lady at the front desk,” However, he doesn’t budge from his place in your door frame. You cast him a glare, which only makes his smile grow wider.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll go let her know,” he says, already turning to walk down the hall. You open your mouth to object, but he casts a glance over his shoulder, snickering. “You focus on cleaning up whatever those black lumps were supposed to be.”

You stand in your doorway, dumbfounded as your neighbor disappears down the complex staircase. Who did this guy think he was, openly laughing at your current predicament? Sure, if the roles were reversed, there’s no doubt that you would do the same. But that isn’t the point.

No. The point is that you are not impressed by the audacity of this stranger, and you are going to make sure that this distaste is known.

Grumbling to yourself, you dump the still smoking cookies in the trash can. It’s a shame, really. You’d thought you were doing so well, too. You thought this would be your chance to prove Minho wrong. Minho. Oh, he would be having an absolute hay day if he were here right now, and the thought only makes your scowl deepen.

“Well,” your neighbor calls from behind you, causing you to jump slightly. He reappears in the open door frame, sticking his neck inside, but not fully crossing the threshold into your apartment. “She’s not thrilled, but the alarm didn’t trigger the main system’s sprinklers, so you’re good.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

The man smiles. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly were you trying to make anyway?”

An embarrassed blush casts itself over your cheeks. “Chocolate chip cookies,” you mumble, not meeting his eyes.

He lets out a burst of laughter, smiling widely. You can’t help but notice that he had a cute smile, dimples on both of his cheeks, eyes crinkled. Not that you were looking. Not that you cared, obviously.

“How’d you manage to mess up chocolate chip cookies that badly?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “You tell me.” You gesture towards the oven. Your neighbor smirks, walking inside your apartment. He bends down in front of your oven, before taking a look inside.

“Well, nothing seems to be wrong in there…” he starts, before glancing up at the set temperature. “Oh,” he states, before looking back at you, his eyes full of pity. “Oh boy.”

“What?” You ask defensively.

“The temperature. You forgot to convert it from celsius to fahrenheit. See?” He says, leaning away from the oven to give you a closer look. “So you thought you were cooking them at 350 degrees fahrenheit, when in reality they were at over 600 degrees.”

“Oh my god,” you say, smacking your palm against your forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t know,” the guy shrugs. “You could have burnt your apartment down, so I’d consider it a win. You’re lucky I got here on time.”

You cast him a scowl, although you can’t seem to relinquish the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto your lips. You know damn well you wouldn’t have started a fire, and that the man showing up really didn’t stop anything but an uncomfortable conversation with the front lady. You are also sure that he is fully aware of this too, which makes your smirk grow wider. Alright, you’ll play along.

“Right, what ever would I do without you?” you say sarcastically, causing your neighbor to playfully roll his eyes. He leans against your kitchen counter, relaxing slightly.

“Does my saviour have a name?” You ask, opening the fridge to take a look at what’s inside. You feel your stomach rumble, taking a glance at the clock to see that it was already past 9:00.

“It’s Chris,” he smiles, leaning over your shoulder. “So what are you going to eat, now that you’ve successfully butchered the easiest recipe known to man?”

“Hey!” You snipe. “That is certainly not the easiest recipe known to man.”

“Fine, fine,” Chris says, putting his hands up in defense. “Maybe not the easiest, but it’s definitely up there. But putting that aside, what are you going to eat? Because I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever seen a fridge so empty.”

You want to quip back at him, but he’s right. Minho usually does the grocery shopping, but because of Jisung’s party tonight he wasn’t planning on cooking anything.

“Good question,” you sigh, closing the refrigerator door before leaning your back against it. “Maybe I’ll just order some take out. I don’t think my pride can handle another failure.”

Chris smiles. “Or, I have an idea,” he says, his eyes glinting. He heads over to your apartment door, and for a moment you worry that he’s leaving.

No, you’re not worried. You’re curious. That’s all. You were curious whether or not he was leaving, nothing more.

When Chris returns, he has his arms full of ingredients. Spinach, penne, tomato sauce, cream, a variety of spices. The list goes on, and he stumbles slightly, almost dropping the surplus of food onto your kitchen floor. Imagining the mess, you rush over to help him, placing the load of groceries onto the counter.

“I don’t know if you couldn’t tell before,” you say, motioning to your overflowing counter. “But I really can’t cook. I have no clue what to do with any of this.”

“That’s no problem,” Chris smiles, already separating the food into different groups. “I’ll help you.”

“No, no, no. I can’t ask you to do that,” you say, waving your hands in protest. You step in front of him, squeezing yourself between his chest and the kitchen counter, preventing him from reaching any of the ingredients. “You’ve already dealt with the desk lady for me, and brought over all these groceries. You’ve done more than enough.”

He smiles, gently placing his hands on your shoulders and effortlessly moving you to the side. “Why would I bring you these groceries if I knew you couldn’t do anything with them?” When you don’t respond, he continues. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just let me help you.”

You sigh in defeat, ignoring the way your heart begins to beat faster in your chest. “Alright,” you say, grabbing Minho’s cutting board from the cupboard. “Let’s do this, then.”

~~~~

An hour later, you find yourself sitting on top of your kitchen counter, Chris stationed by the stove working on the pasta sauce. You had genuinely tried to help in the beginning, you really did. But after Chris criticized your (awful) cutting technique, and said he didn’t exactly trust you to do anything else, you gave up.

Besides, you don’t have a problem watching him work. Over the last hour, you’ve come to learn that Chris is an absolute whiz in the kitchen. Moving from place to place, adding spices by intuition and nothing more. This wasn’t something you could have managed to make yourself in a million years, and it’s obvious that if you tried to assist him right now, you’d only get in the way.

Of course, you’ve learned a lot more about Chris in the last hour than just that. Where he grew up, his hobbies, what he was currently studying at the university. Music theory, as you’d learned. As cool as it sounded, Han had managed to tarnish your image of music majors, but you suppose you could give Chris a chance.

“It’s almost done,” Chris says, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

“Thank God, I’m starving,” you reply, leaping off the counter to stand beside him.

“What, no ‘thank you, Chris?’ No, ‘what ever would I have done without you, Chris?’” He mocks offence, placing a hand on his heart.

“It’s not even done yet. I’ll thank you after I try it, I promise.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’re only thankful if you like it. I see how it is,” Chris says, crossing his arms in front of himself, pouting his lower lip slightly.

“Guess so,” you say, crossing your own arms mockingly. Chris smiles, those cute little dimples of his dancing across his cheeks.

Then you feel it, that little jump of your heart. The faintest skip of a beat that you’d familiarized yourself with over the last hour. That little hint of anticipation that makes you decide that you are, even if only slightly, a bit interested in Chris.

After all, he’s funny and sweet. Can carry a conversation well, and to understate it, undeniably easy on the eyes. That’s more than enough to give him a chance.

Most of all, however, you like that little flare between the two of you. The sarcasm, the banter. It doesn’t feel the same as when Minho does it, slightly condescending and done purely to harbour your annoyance. No, this is different. It is a challenge. He wants you to quip back, to push further. To make him smirk, or laugh, or roll his eyes.

“Alright, fine then,” he says, taking the large wooden spoon and scooping up some of the pasta sauce. “Tell me if this is up to par, your majesty.”

You aren’t sure if he wants you to take the spoon, or let him hold it for you as you take a bite. You decide to take the gamble, gently moving your lips around the spoon, tasting the sauce. You glance up at Chris, a small look of surprise on his face. However, you don’t miss the flash of something behind his eyes. The faintest hint of affection, interest.

The sauce itself is delicious. A perfect blend of tomato, basil and cream. You hum contently, giving him a thumbs up.

“Chris, this is amazing,” you praise, admiring the small blush that sprinkles his cheeks.

“It’s really nothing,” he says, diverting his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck, shyly.

“No, seriously,” you say, taking the spoon from his hand and scooping some of the sauce up yourself. “Try it.” You hold the spoon out in front of him, and he raises his eyebrows slightly. Your gaze remains firm. A challenge.

Hesitantly, he takes the bite, not breaking eye contact as he does so. You stare at him, watching the way his lips move around the spoon, the intensity of his gaze. The action itself should be innocent, yet you feel a warmth rise to your cheeks.

Chris swallows, taking his lips off the spoon. For a moment, neither of you say anything. You can feel the change in the atmosphere of the room. The spark between you two being brought alight.

You swallow hard. “So?” You ask quietly.

“Yeah, it’s good. Very good,” he says back, his voice low and raspy. He goes to take the spoon from you, and his hand lingers a moment, his thumb trailing the skin of your knuckles.

You feel yourself lean in slightly, fully prepared to take the leap, when suddenly he breaks away from you, eagerly taking a few steps back. He looks away, placing a hand on his face, as if he were ashamed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know you’re seeing someone, we shouldn’t be doing this. I’m sorry,” he babbles, completely turning away from you.

You open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. Seeing someone? Where the hell could he have possibly gotten that idea?

“Seeing someone?” You ask, incredulously voicing your thoughts. You grab him by the shoulder, turning him around. “Why do you think I’m seeing someone?”

Chris still refuses to meet your eyes, instead focusing intently on the wall behind you. “The guy that lives here- Minho - aren’t you two?”

“Minho?” You gape, contorting your face in a look of pure disgust. “Ew, gross! No! Believe me, I am not dating Minho, I’d genuinely rather stick this spoon in my eye,” you exclaim, lifting up the utensil.

At that Chris finally looks at you, wearing his own look of pure confusion. “Wait, really? But whenever I hear you guys out in the hall, the two of you are always so… flirty.”

“Flirty?” You laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. “If by flirty you mean he teases me literally every god damn second of every day, then yeah sure, I guess. But believe me, there is absolutely nothing romantic about that. Not in the least.”

Chris shakes his head, a smile forming at the corners of his lips. “Wow. I am such an idiot,” he sighs, a rediscovered lightness to his tone.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him. “Anyone could make that mistake, I guess. It’s really no big-”

“No, it’s not just that,” he cuts you off. “That’s why I’ve never talked to you before now.”

“You never talked to me because you thought that me and Minho were dating?” You ask, slightly confused. Even if you were dating, you didn’t see why that would stop him from starting a conversation with you. “Why?”

“Well,” he sighs, his cheeks reddening further. “I thought you were pretty, and based on the way you always quipped back at him, clever and funny as well. I don’t know, it just felt wrong to try and build a friendship with you, knowing how I already felt a little....”

You smirk, drawing yourself slightly closer to him. “A little what?”

His smile transforms itself from embarrassed to a sly grin of his own. “A little into you, I guess.”

“It really is a shame,” you shrug, trying to hide the excitement building in your chest. “Because here I was, thinking my cute neighbor had some irrational grudge against me.”

Chris leans in, so the two of you are only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, smell the strong fragrance of his cologne. Sharp with lemon zest and mint.

“We could always make up for lost time, you know,” he says, his eyes flashing with mischief.

That is all the invitation you need to break the space between the two of you. You press Chris’ lips against your own, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other along the line of his jaw. His lips are soft, you notice. Tender in the slow rhythm the two of you develop.

He runs his hands up along your figure. One of them finding itself locked in your hair, the other placed firmly on the curve of your lower back. Gently, he leads the two of you away from the stove, placing you so that your back is pressed up against the kitchen counter.

You run your hand down along his chest, reveling in the groan he let’s out as your fingers trail down his lower abdomen. The sound is electricity pulsing through you, charging the room and igniting the atmosphere around the two of you.

His lips leave yours, trailing your jaw before making their way down your neck. Each individual kiss is slow and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine. You take a deep breath to stable yourself, and it does not go unnoticed.

Chris smirks, shifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown out with desire. “You know, if we keep this up, the pasta sauce is going to burn,” he says, letting his fingers trail along your collarbone.

“Let it,” you shrug. “I wasn’t hungry anyways.”

Chris laughs at this, leaning forward so his face brushes the crook of your neck. “Yeah, right,” he says, allowing his lips to dust your skin. Suddenly, he bites down, not enough to break through the skin, but certainly enough to leave a small mark.

You laugh, running your hands in his hair, half-heartedly pulling him off of your neck. “Hey! That hurt,” you exclaim, only half serious.

“Sorry,” he grins, before crashing his lips into yours once again. The pace between the two of you is much faster now, each kiss more passionate. More promising. Your desire rings through you, clouding your mind in a hazy fog of lust. It is dizzying, just how much you want him at this moment.

You're certain he feels the same way, given in how tightly he grips your thigh, his breath ragged every time you break apart. It is messy. Greedy. The two of you so deeply wanting more. More of each other.

You’re about to ask if he wants to move this to the bedroom, when suddenly the apartment door swings open. It’s almost comical, how quickly you and Chris break apart, springing to opposite ends of the kitchen.

“I hate to say it, but you were right,” Minho calls as he walks inside, not yet glancing up from his phone screen. “Shit got out of hand. Someone managed to break the pool table, don’t even ask how, I don’t know either. Almost gave Felix an aneurysm. I swear the kid was about to cry, poor guy. Han had to shut everything down. So you really didn’t miss out on-” Minho stops as he sees Chris, a confused yet bemused expression crossing his face.

“Oh, hey Chan,” he says, causing you to give Chris a look.

“A nickname,” Chris mouths to you, as discreetly as he possibly can.

“What are you doing over here?” Minho asks him, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. He has that smug smirk on his face that makes you want to punch him.

“Oh, well…” Chris starts, casting you a glance. “Y/N made some food, and there was too much of it, so she invited me over.”

“Really?” Minho asks, caught off guard. He walks past you and Chris, staring at the pasta and sauce currently sitting on the oven burners. “You’re saying Y/N made this?”

“Well, yeah?” Chris says, feigning confusion. “Of course, I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Why?”

You have to stop yourself from laughing, looking at the expression of utter bewilderment on Minho’s face. Minho glances at you, narrowing his eyes, before sighing.

“Well then, I guess you proved me wrong on two things tonight, Y/N,” he says, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he begins to scoop some of the penne into his dish.

“Oh, you said there was a lot,” Minho responds, raising one eyebrow. “Can I not have some?”

“Sorry, go ahead,” you say, still slightly flustered by the abruptness of his entrance. Minho finishes filling his bowl and takes a seat at the kitchen island. As he begins to eat, the room is filled with a rather tense silence. You and Chris share an awkward look, unsure of what to do next.

Minho looks up from his dish, glancing between the two of you.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, grabbing his bowl and standing up from his chair. “I’m going to go eat this in my room. Have fun you two.”

Before you can say anything, Minho disappears around the corner, down the hallway leading to his room. You turn back towards Chris. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“He’s a bit of a mood-killer, huh?” You say, grabbing two bowls from the cupboard, offering him one.

Chris nods in thanks as he takes the bowl from your hands. “Just a little bit,” he laughs, beginning to scoop some of the pasta into both of your dishes.

The two of you take a seat at your counter, spending the meal talking and laughing. Nothing else, the moment has passed, but that doesn’t bother you. You enjoy Chris’ presence. His quick humour and thoughtful conversation.

It really is something that you could get used to, you decide.

After you’re done eating, you walk Chris over to the door, handing him his surplus of spice bottles and leftover spinach.

“Thank you for doing all this, seriously. The food was delicious, you’re seriously gifted. And also, thank you for covering for me, I really didn’t feel like listening to Minho die laughing over the burnt cookies,” you admit.

“It’s no problem, really,” Chris smiles. He shifts all the spices over to his right arm, letting his free hand fall down to his side. Softly, he takes your hand in his, letting your fingers intertwine.

“Listen,” he continues, shyly looking up from your hands to meet your eyes. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, you’re welcome to come over for a proper dinner. You know, so I can show you what I can actually make when it’s not a last minute attempt at salvaging a meal.”

You smile a goofy, genuine grin. “That sounds good to me,” you say. Hesitantly, you lean forwards, planting a soft, innocent kiss on his lips.

As you break apart, he hums contently. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, thanks for today. You made my night, Y/N.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Chris.” You watch as he walks over to his apartment door, which is of course, only a few meters away from your own. When he disappears into his own apartment, you sigh, closing your own door behind you. You lean against the frame, letting out a shaky breath, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve held any genuine interest in someone, you feel almost giddy.

That is until you see Minho, leaning against the corner of the kitchen wall, watching you with his cheshire smirk.

“Dinner tomorrow, huh?” He asks, walking into the kitchen and scooping himself the last of the pasta.

“What about it?” You retort, not giving in to that pestering look in his eyes.

“Oh, nothing. I’m sure it’ll be good, considering Chan clearly made this,” Minho says, shoveling some of the pasta into his mouth.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, grabbing two wine glasses from the cupboard.

“Save it, the lady at the front desk told me you almost set the apartment on fire,” Minho laughs as you pour the wine.

You let out a groan, handing him his glass. “God dammit.”

“Don’t blame her though,” he smiles, leaning back and taking a sip. “I wouldn’t have believed you could have cooked that anyway.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Had me fooled for a second there though,” he says, patting you on the head. “But more importantly, you like Chan huh?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Nice hickey, by the way,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows.

You pull up the collar of your shirt, casting him a glare. “Okay, maybe I do,” you shrug. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” he replies, before taking a second to think. “Just please don’t fuck him or anything tomorrow. Walls are thin.”

You laugh, taking your glass of wine and flopping yourself back down on the living room couch.

“Shut up, Minho.”

thanks for reading loves <3

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