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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

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this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation

chapter 5: i would leave if only i could find a reason also on AO3 Rated E Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

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Much like the day before, Wayne Munson couldn’t resist giving Steve a bit of a glare when he arrived at the same time as Eddie for dinner. Mia was sitting on her playmat, shoving blocks around until it sort of resembled a small tower, but quickly losing interest when she saw Steve.

“Mama! Mama! Uh!” Mia yelled.

And then she fell forward onto her hands, rocked her body back and forth a couple of times, and crawled.

Wayne’s jaw was practically on the floor as he watched Mia crawl the short distance to where Steve was standing at the front door.

She plopped back onto her bottom when she reached him, holding her arms up expectantly, beaming that gummy smile at him.

“Holy shit.” Eddie fell to his knees next to Steve, picking her up and peppering her face with kisses until she was giggling. “You did it, princess!”

Steve joined him on the floor, a hand reaching out to cover Mia’s back as he smiled at them both.

The glare disappeared from Wayne’s face almost as quickly as it came at the sight.

In truth, this was all Wayne had ever wanted for Eddie: someone who made him happy and celebrated his happiness with Mia. It was impossible to pretend he couldn’t see the love in Steve’s watery eyes when he looked at them.

Wayne was always going to be overprotective of his boy and his angel, but maybe he could start letting Steve climb the wall. Maybe he could even throw a ladder over the edge for him to hold onto.

“Daddy’s so proud of you!” Eddie sniffled, a tear falling down his cheek. “Stevie, did you see her?”

“I did! Good job, princess!” Steve kissed her forehead, tears pooling in his eyes.

It was bittersweet, watching Eddie and Steve share this moment with each other and Mia, knowing that he was going to miss a lot of these moments if Eddie followed Steve to the city.

He’d have to be okay with that, knew it was a possibility from the beginning anyway, just didn’t think it would be so soon. He thought maybe he’d get to see her first steps, hear her learn new words, maybe even be around for the joyful day she was potty trained and they could save so much money on diapers.

Looking at the way Steve and Eddie were praising her and smiling at each other, Wayne knew it would be worth it to miss those things if it meant Ed and Mia were taken care of and loved.

“I guess I better check on dinner,” he said softly, not wanting to interrupt the moment too much.

“Oh! Do you need any help?” Steve offered, starting to stand up from the floor.

“Nah,” Wayne waved him off, offering a genuine smile. “I’ll get ya when it’s done.”

Steve nodded, settling back down next to Eddie and watching as Mia reached over for him.

“Mamamamamama!”

Wayne shook his head, an overwhelming fondness taking over.

He paused on his way into the kitchen to watch as Eddie handed her over to him, giving him a soft peck on the lips and a warm smile.

**************

“So, Steve.” Wayne wiped his mouth on a paper towel before turning his attention to Steve, who suddenly looked like he was wishing he was anywhere but here. “Tell me about what you’ve been up to.”

Steve gulped, shoving some of the mashed potatoes around his plate. He’d barely eaten yet, but Wayne was almost certain it had more to do with his nerves than whether or not he liked the food.

“Well, I’m currently a waiter at a Michelin star restaurant a few blocks from the apartment I share with Robin. I make pretty decent tips, better than most people who wait tables in the area. Um, I applied for a technical school in the city.” Steve looks down at his plate, blushing. “I’m going to get a cosmetology certificate so I can work in one of my friend’s salon while I figure out what I might wanna do long term.”

Wayne pretended he didn’t see Eddie’s hand squeeze his knee under the table.

“So you wouldn’t wanna do that long term?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think it could be a career, I guess,” Steve shrugged. “Not for me, at least.”

Wayne and Eddie shared a look.

“It could be. If it’s something you liked.” Eddie said while Wayne nodded in agreement. “You’ve always been known to have great hair, it kinda makes sense for you. Plus, imagine how well those old ladies would tip you just for being handsome.”

They all laughed as Steve seemed to relax a bit more, taking a bite of his baked chicken.

“You know, Ed has been thinkin’ about talkin’ to someone about a tattoo apprenticeship,” Wayne provided before taking a bite of food. “You know anywhere near you that might be interested in havin’ him?”

Steve lit up at the question, and for good reason.

Eddie smiled at Wayne, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ as Steve started talking about a couple shops within walking distance of the apartment.

It was a quiet acceptance of what was to come, of Wayne giving his support in the only way he knew how right now. Eddie could see it for what it was, and Steve almost certainly could too.

“And there’s a park with a huge playground the next block over, so we could bring Mia all the time. She could even make some friends! There’s a mom group that meets every Tuesday morning and Friday evening-“

“How do you know about this?” Eddie asked.

“Oh.” Steve’s face turned bright red. “I cover for one of the women on Fridays so she can take her twins. They’re almost two.”

“I’m not sure they’d welcome me since it’s just moms.”

“They’d love to have you and Mia. There’s one other dad that switches off with his wife when she has to work. You’d probably like him, he likes Ozzy.”

Eddie snorted. “Ah, yes. The pinnacle of friendship: Ozzy Osbourne.”

“You’d have something in common!” Steve laughed. “He saw him in concert last time he was in Chicago.”

“Really?” Eddie dropped his fork. “Like just a few months ago?”

“Yep,” Steve’s smug smile made Wayne smirk. “Had pit tickets even.”

“He was in the pit?”

Steve nodded, looking over at Wayne. “He said his buddy is the one who got a drumstick when they threw them into the crowd.”

“Holy shit, Steve. So you move to the city and now you have cool friends?” Eddie was joking, but his words had just a hint of jealousy to them. “Or do you have a crush on this guy?”

“Oh my God, Eds, no. Trust me. He’s an accountant with a buzz cut and no tattoos.”

“No tattoos?” Eddie shook his head. “Sounds like he’s hiding something.”

“Maybe you can be his friend and he’ll share his secrets,” Steve nudged him playfully.

Wayne watched as they got lost in each others’ eyes, rolling his own when they wouldn’t look away from each other even after a solid minute.

“How’s dinner, boys?” Wayne asked, smirking when they both jumped in their seats.

“It’s great, thanks.” Steve saw that Wayne’s plate was mostly cleared, a few pieces of chicken left. “I can do the dishes and stuff when we’re all done. I’m sure you’re tired and wanna head to bed soon.”

Wayne squinted at him.

If he didn’t know Steve a bit better, he’d assume he was trying to impress him.

“I think I got it tonight. Why don’t you boys get some rest? You’ve both had a lot goin’ on and Mia will be up in a few hours for a bottle.”

“I don’t mind-“ Steve started, only to have Eddie covering his mouth with his hand.

“Take what’s being offered, Stevie.”

“Listen to your boyfriend, Steve.” Wayne stood up and gathered his plate and glass of water. “Nice havin’ ya over. I’m sure I’ll be seein’ a lot of ya the next few days.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So formal. Stop scaring him so much, Wayne, Jesus.”

Wayne let out a laugh, probably louder than he should have knowing Mia was asleep just down the hall, and touched Steve’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

“It’s Wayne, Steve.”

Wayne left the room before Steve could start crying.

**********

“Are you sure it’s okay I stay?” Steve whispered.

Eddie leaned in to kiss him softly, smiling at him as he pulled away. “I’m sure, sweetheart.”

Steve peeked over his shoulder at the crib, smiling at Mia’s sleeping form.

“She’s amazing. You’re amazing,” Steve closed his eyes and settled further into the pillow under him. “I can’t believe I get to love you both.”

“I can’t believe you want to.”

Steve’s eyes searched Eddie’s, his hand resting on Eddie’s side, just above his largest scar from the bats. His fingers traced the outer edges, where the skin was oversensitive.

“I always want anything you’ll give me.”

Eddie groaned as quietly as he could. “You’re killin’ me. I wanna be inside you so bad right now, Stevie.”

Steve slapped his chest, but immediately leaned in for a kiss, hungrier than the last one.

“How quiet can you be?” Steve whispered against his lips.

“Me? How quiet can you be?” Eddie’s eyes widened as Steve’s hands landed on his waistband.

“I don’t have to worry about being quiet if I’ve got your dick in my mouth, do I?” Steve smirked as he kissed down his neck, his hand pushing Eddie’s pants down just enough to free his rapidly filling cock.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie rolled to his back so he could lift his hips and help get his pants further down. “You may actually kill me.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Steve said as he kissed down Eddie’s bare chest, hovering for a bit longer over a tattoo he didn’t recognize. “What’s this one?”

Eddie tilted his head down to see what Steve was pointing at.

“It’s the word ‘mine’ over and over in a heart,” Eddie was actually blushing. “Mia’s name means ‘mine’ so I convinced my buddy to do this for free for me soon after she came.”

Steve looked at it closer, then leaned in and kissed it, let his lips linger for a moment.

“It’s perfect.”

Eddie cupped the back of Steve’s head, but didn’t push or pull him in any direction, just needed the feel of Steve in his hold.

A small cry startled them out of the moment, and when Eddie looked over to the crib, he saw Mia’s legs kicking like she was trying to get loose from her swaddle.

Steve sighed, but smiled up at him before patting his chest once and standing up. “I got her,” he said as he walked over to the crib. “Hi princess. You’re not supposed to be awake yet.”

Eddie sat up and looked over at the clock. Steve was right, she shouldn’t be awake yet, and if she was, they’d either been too loud or she was sick.

It only took one close up look at her cheeks to know which it was.

“Shit.” Eddie stood up and reached over for her, frowning as he held the back of his hand up to her forehead as she let out a small whimper. “Dammit.”

She rested her entirely-too-warm cheek against his shoulder.

“What is it?” Steve asked, concern etched on every corner of his face, hand raised like he was ready to comfort or fight if needed.

“She has a fever.”

Every possibility ran through Eddie’s mind: flu, strep throat, a cold, maybe something even more serious.

Steve’s brows furrowed. “She was totally fine right before she went to bed.”

“I know, but babies just get sick. Happens fast,” Eddie half shrugged. “Wayne may not have noticed anything was off while we were in the shower.”

“She’s really warm though, baby. This isn’t something that just happened in the last hour.”

Eddie knew Steve meant well, and probably knew plenty about how that was true for adults, but he didn’t have experience with babies. The sudden stress of knowing he’d probably have to miss work to take her to the doctor tomorrow wasn’t helping his reaction.

“It can.” He sighed. “Maybe you should head out. I don’t want you to catch anything.”

“I’m not leaving you. You have work tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but I have to bring her to the doctor if this fever doesn’t break before morning. And if you get sick, you’ll be miserable for the trip home and you can’t work when you’re sick-“

“Eds, she’s got a tooth coming in.” Steve was running his pinky finger along her bottom gum, smiling to himself when she started nibbling on it. “That’s probably where the fever came from.”

Eddie tried not to feel stupid. She’d already been teething before this, but had luckily escaped having much of a fever. The drool was a bit excessive, and she put everything in her mouth, but otherwise, she was the same happy and healthy baby she always was. Babies did sometimes get fevers for seemingly no reason, but usually that reason was actually because they were teething.

Mia gurgled as she kept trying to munch on Steve’s finger, his face wincing slightly when she bit down harder.

“Seems like it broke through,” he said, though he didn’t pull his finger away. “Poor thing. You want me to get a piece of ice and hold it on her gums? It’ll numb it for a bit.”

Eddie nodded silently.

“Hey. Eds.” Eddie looked at Steve. “You’re a really great dad for being so worried about her.”

Eddie relaxed at Steve’s words. He should’ve known Steve wasn’t judging his parenting, Steve never would over something like this.

“Sorry.”

“For what, baby? You’re just trying to take care of both of us.” Steve kissed his nose. “I’ll be right back.”

He moved quickly, but quietly, from the room, not wanting to disturb Wayne on his way to the freezer to get an ice cube. Eddie watched him leave the door open a crack, just enough for the warm glow from the nightlight to light his way down the hall.

Eddie rocks back and forth on his feet, whispering to Mia while she sucks on her own fingers to try to find some relief, however temporary, from the pain of her tooth popping through the gums. She’s making low grunts every few seconds, either in acknowledgment of what he’s saying to her or in frustration from the pain.

“Mama,” Mia whispers wetly, drool dripping from her mouth when she refuses to take her fingers away to talk. Eddie can’t help smiling fondly at her. “Mamamamama.”

“He’s coming right back, princess. He’s gonna help.”

Steve rushed back in the room, practically sliding across the carpet, ice cube between two fingers to try to prevent it melting too quickly from his body heat.

“Alright, princess! Let’s get your fingers out of the way so we can use this instead.”

Steve pried her fingers out of her mouth, shushing her quiet whine with a kiss to her cheek. He gently brought the ice cube up to her lips and rubbed until she opened her mouth enough for him to rub it over her gums.

She kicked Eddie a couple of times, but seemed content with his solution.

“That’s it, honey. Feels a lot better now, huh?” Steve whispered to her.

Eddie watched as Mia’s eyes never left Steve’s face, a small smile finally replacing the look of pain she’d had before.

He felt cool drops dribbling down his chest as the ice cube melted, but didn’t care enough to try to find a burp rag or t-shirt. He couldn’t look away from this moment.

It felt like everything had maybe led up to this, this very tiny moment in his bedroom, where he could have handled it, but didn’t have to.

Where Steve showed he could fit in a way Eddie didn’t know he needed.

Where his presence would be missed while Eddie figured out how to follow him to Chicago.

How had he already made such a big impact on their lives that going a few months without him now seemed like an impossible task?

“Eds? Baby, what’s wrong?”

Eddie blinked a few times to see Steve looking at him with concern, Mia half-asleep again in his arms.

“Sorry. I just realized that I don’t ever wanna do this without you again.”

It was dangerous to admit, and while he was pretty sure Steve could sense how important he was to Eddie, he’d never come out and said it quite like that.

“You don’t have to,” Steve leaned in to kiss him. “I’m right here.”

“You’re gonna be leaving in a few days, though. And I know we’re gonna come be with you, but it’s not gonna be right away. It’ll be hard to have this and then not for a while.”

Steve nodded once. “I know. But we can figure out a schedule for calls so I can talk to you and Mia until you can come be with me. I’m sure I could come visit again next month during the restaurant’s yearly deep clean. They close for three days and hire a company to scrub the place from top to bottom and pay us our hourly wage for all shifts missed. It’s kinda like a mini-vacation for me.”

“Or maybe we could come visit you.” Eddie set Mia down in her crib gently, holding a hand on her chest so she wouldn’t freak out that he left her. “See our future home. Maybe bring some stuff so moving there feels real.”

Steve wrapped his arms around his waist, kissed his jaw, and rested his head on the opposite shoulder from where Mia had been.

“Pretty sure we’ll have the place to ourselves for most of that, maybe you should be the one to visit. I’ll get a crib for Mia so she can test her new room out. Maybe I can get Robin’s friend Cam to paint a mural on the wall.”

Eddie’s brows raised in surprise. “You can paint the wall?”

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged. “Not like we can’t just paint over it when we move out.”

“Who know you were such a bad boy?” Eddie wiggled his brows. “Keep talkin’ about breaking rental agreement rules. It’s very sexy.”

Steve muffled his laugh in Eddie’s chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you, sweet thing.”

Steve pulled back, fond smile still on his face. “You sure are a sweet talker. I dunno if I can keep up with your charm.”

“Sure you can. You just said you’d paint a mural in our daughter’s bedroom in a rented apartment that probably doesn’t even let you hang picture frames on the walls. Very charming.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just looked at Eddie with wide eyes.

“What?” He finally asked.

“You just said Mia was our daughter,” Steve whispered, broken, somewhat hopeful.

“I-“

“It’s okay if you didn’t mean it, Eds-“

“No, I meant it, it’s just-“

“Seriously, I understand it was a slip. Easy to do when you’re tired and-“

“Steve!” Eddie whisper-shouted, his hands coming up to rest on Steve’s cheeks. “I meant it.”

“You meant it?”

Eddie’s lips were on Steve’s, a better response than any words he could give would be, his tongue tracing along his bottom lip asking for entrance.

“Meant it,” he said again as he pulled Steve backwards towards his bed, opening his eyes for a moment just to make sure Mia was still asleep.

“You gonna be quiet?” Steve whispered against his lips as they settled back in his bed.

“You won’t even know I’m here,” Eddie smirked as Steve kissed down his chest. “Well, except for my dick in your mouth.”

Steve shook his head. “Terrible. Where did the charm from earlier go?”

“It’ll return from the war after you get your mouth on me, I promise.”

Steve rolled his eyes but did as was requested, swallowing around Eddie’s length at the same time he reached up to cover his mouth with his hand.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #chaptered fic #ao3 fic #a wild update appears #sorry it's been 800 years since i updated this one everyone #i have had a serious case of the responsibilities

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 8 months

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Whew! I actually swam today!

I know I suggested that I’d stop on after the first day of autumn, but it was soooo close to October and the forecast wasn’t dipping any lower.

Oh, the drive to push myself just a little bit longer….

TBH, I dunno if “swim” is the right word.

I’d force myself to get into the pool, obviously knowing pausing to “adjust” to the chill wasn’t going to happen, and that for my own safety I needed to be quick. I’d climb down accompanied by sounded like an opera of surprising range, lyrically focused on one word: “COLD”. Or maybe the unearthly agonies of someone being tortured by a creature from a world of eternal icy darkness.

Once in I’d duck my head under, then let go of the ladder and swim a second. Surface, gasping at sharp pain of the cold knifing into my sinuses. Head under, swoop to the ladder, gasp to the surface, head under swosh back to the middle of the pool backwards, gasp, head under and suspend myself in embrace of the water, gasp, the head under and glide back to the ladder. Out before the cold could kill me.

No it wasn’t safe. Not for me since that terrible day that rebooted my endurance for cold water from exceptionally high to exceptionally poor. Too long could actually kill me.

But in a way maybe that was the point. Not dying, of course, but maybe the risk. It wasn’t safe but it was a danger I had some control over. I was testing myself, both my trust in my own judgement and my will to do what part of me rebels against.

I always had an almost pride in those aspects of my nature. I have had exceptionally good judgement about my physical capabilities and facing risks ever since I was a toddler. Mom still brings this up with wonder. I also have found I could force my way through any pain and discomfort, like just keep going.

I said “pride” and there is that, but there is a darker side to both. If you have good judgement then no one worries about you, and if one dat you are ever wrong it will probably be spectacularly wrong. And if you can shove past pain then no one ever sees your suffering, and the expect you to never stop. They are useful, but a bit potentially dangerous.

All that said, they are qualities I need now more than ever.

Lately I haven’t been feeling them. Having to give in to the pain in order to try to heal has been hellishly hard, my “good judgement” colliding with my “will to keep going” in ugly ways. I’ve actually started doubting myself, and feeling I’m only the shattered wreckage of who I am supposed to be.

So swimming until October was the test. Could I do it without killing myself or, at least, triggering something nasty.

Once upon a time I always swam until the middle of October at least, but that “hypothermic cardiac event” (Pop’s term) ended that.

I was fragile, a little scared, and judged myself harshly. My mistake had broken me. My judgement had been poor and my will power was useless. I confidence in part of my nature had been rattled, and the echoes were still being felt as new things battered me.

I hadn’t gone swimming in October since that day about 15 years ago.

And today I swam in October! Fuck you universe, I haven’t given in yet! I still know how to manage my limits! I still have the strength to do things my body screams out about! I am still me!!

Still….this was the LAST time I will swim this year. I’m not stupid! I’m not pushing my luck anymore.

But it feels soooooooooooo good. I feel I’ve really won.

Maybe I did. Maybe I’ve won a piece of my self confidence back.

#my day #swimming #cold #cold water #me

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whats-wild-to-you · 1 year

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Can I request for an enemies to lovers kind of sitch :)

I read this and immediately thought, YES! My mind was bubbling over with ideas and I had to calm myself down first 😅 then one night it came to me. I knew where this was going. I started writing and couldn’t stop. Literally.

Edit: this is going to be sooooooooo loooooooooong. For a second I thought about making it into a short story and post it separately but then I thought, nah! But maybe I’ll still do just so it is a little more structured 🤷‍♀️

ps. Sorry it took a little longer but hopefully the result will make up for it 🫶 I literally couldn’t stop writing.

______________________________________________

Being the only woman in a company full of men wasn’t ideal, especially since everyone assumed you climbed up the career ladder by sleeping with your superiors. Despite the fact that you worked harder than anyone else and was the first to come and last to leave the office, the rumors remained.

It all escalated when the CEO hired Jay. He was an overachiever, a stickler and one who loved the rules. He wanted to get in your superior’s good graces and so naturally he sucked up to him. You annoyed him, because you seemingly got all the attention from the higher ups.

Jay was also the one who kept the rumor mill going. Almost every day, he would sit with his colleagues at lunch, telling stories about how you supposedly only joined the company because your rich daddy paid money.

You could only laugh about these baseless accusations, but it didn’t mean they weren’t getting to you. You tried your best to remain cool, calm and collected at work, but would break down as soon as you got in your car.

Leaving this job was not an option. You refused to give Jay such satisfaction. All you could do was avoid the hell out of him. For the most part you were succeeding.

“You. You. In my office. Now!” Your superior emerged, pointing his finger at you, then at Jay.

“I’ve been hearing rumors. Do I need to fire one of you?”

“No, Sir!” You blurted out, side-eyeing Jay who stood there stone-faced.

“Fine. Then you will go on a company trip. Just the two of you!”

“Bu-” Jay began but was cut off.

“If you don’t want to, I expect your letter of resignation on my desk by tomorrow.”

Both, Jay and you remained silent.

“That’s what I thought. Finish work for the day and head home early to pack. Someone will pick you up in the morning.”

Dumbfounded, you walked back to your cubicle, avoiding eye contact with Jay. You struggled concentrating for the rest of the day, and wondered if Jay struggled too. For a brief second you thought about writing that letter of resignation, but you’ve fought for too long and come too far to give up now.

“How bad could it get?” You mumbled under your breath.

The next morning, a van came to pick you up. The driver took your luggage and when he opened the door for you, you saw that Jay was already sitting in the back seat.

“Morning.” You said, mainly because the driver looked at you expectantly.

Jay remained silent and turned his head away from you. You did the same. He leaned against the left window, you against the right.

“We will be arriving in our destination in 3 hours.” The driver announced and took off.

Three hours later you were rudely awakened by Jay slamming the trunk shut. Looking around, you wondered where you landed. Jay was looking around too, but it was more of a figuring out an escape route type of looking.

“I’ll come pick you up in a week.” The driver said and got into the van.

“What?!” You and Jay shouted out simultaneously. You couldn’t speak for Jay but you thought you’d have to spend only the weekend with him. At most.

Defeated, you walked up to the front door. The driver had handed Jay keys and you saw him fumbling to unlock the door. You entered shortly after, inspecting your home for the next 7 days.

It was huge, spacious, minimalistic. Large rooms, an even larger kitchen and living room. There was even a pool but since it was January you wouldn’t be able to make use of that.

There was no staircase but an elevator that lead up to the upper floors. Two to be exact. Each floor had a bedroom, a bathroom, office and lounge area.

“You can stay here. I’ll take the top floor.”

It was the first thing Jay had said to you. Not knowing how to respond, you simply nodded, wheeling your luggage off the elevator.

After unpacking and exploring your surroundings, you went back to the common area and headed for the kitchen. Inspecting the fridge, you found it was fully stocked, as well as the pantry.

Your stomach growled at the sight of all the fresh fruit and vegetables, meats and other delicious foods.

In an impromptu decision, you took several things out of the fridge and looked for pots and pans.

Half an hour later, Jay appeared in the kitchen, opening the fridge to get a bottle of water.

“I made dinner!” You announced proudly, hopeful that Jay would join you.

“Congratulations!” He sneered and left without a second look.

Unbothered, you sat down and enjoyed your dinner. Afterwards you cleaned the kitchen and fixed a plate for Jay, covering it in saran wrap and placing it in the fridge. Somewhere in a drawer you found post it notes and stuck one on the fridge, reminding him that there was food in there in case he was hungry. Then you took the elevator up to your floor and sat in your lounge area, reading a book you got off the shelf.

The next morning Jay was the first to get up. You carefully walked up to the kitchen when you saw him standing by the front door.

He bent down to pick something up and seconds later you heard his irritated voice. “You gotta be kidding me!”

You made enough coffee for the both of you and when you opened the fridge to get some milk you saw that the plate you set aside for Jay was still there, untouched.

He startled you when he slammed the paper on the counter and disappeared back upstairs. You sighed when you read its content.

Good morning you two! Did you think this was a vacation? That I wouldn’t be keeping tabs on you? Wrong! There are hidden cameras all over the house, recording your every move, documenting everything! Purpose of this little getaway is to improve your relationship with each other, and so far you’ve failed. The point is to be around each other, not avoid each other. You have until midnight to work on you communication skills. If you fail, the elevator won’t go all the way up and you’ll be forced to share one floor. Enjoy your stay!

You knew Jay would never make an attempt to talk to you so you had to be the bigger person and start a conversation.

Discouraged, you took the elevator up holding a tray with 2 cups of coffee on it.

“Jay? I made coffee!”

When he didn’t answer you slowly tiptoed towards the lounge area, hoping to find him there. But the space was empty.

Sighing, you walked up to his bedroom door, knocking.

“I made coffee.”

You waited until Jay opened the door, looking at you condescendingly. He took a cup off the tray and banged the door in your face.

“Well, at least this time he took it!” You went back down, sitting in the large living room. Since you brought your laptop with you, you decided to get some work done before you worried about lunch.

Having lived practically all your life alone, you had developed excellent time management skills. At 1pm sharp, you shut down your laptop and walked over to the kitchen, examining the fridge.

Jay’s plate from the day before was still there, mocking you. Still, you started making food for two, determined to convince Jay to have some this time.

“I’m making lunch. Is there anything you don’t eat? Anything you’re allergic to?” Maybe that was the reason Jay didn’t eat the food you cooked yesterday. Although you highly doubted that.

“Always the goody-goody. Trying soooo hard. Wow, it must be tiring!”

The clinking of the stainless steel knife falling on the marble counter was ear-deafening. You glared at Jay who had his ears covered.

“At least I’m trying! I’m treating you like a human being, whereas you-” You stopped abruptly, shaking your head and resuming your work.

“Eat the damn food, don’t eat the damn food. I don’t care! It’s your choice.” You barked at him, noticing he was looking at you in utter shock.

Only then you realized you managed to cut yourself, the sensation of warm blood dripping down your forearm, the smell of iron making you queasy.

“You’re bleeding.” He said as a matter of fact, but stopped himself short of coming over to you and help you tent to your wound.

Instead he retreated, allowing you to cool off. Still, you managed to finish cooking but had to eat alone once again. After fixing a plate for Jay, you placed it in the fridge, threw the old food in the trash, cleaned the kitchen and left.

It was after 10pm when you heard the elevator ding, certain that Jay must’ve gone to the kitchen to eat something.

At midnight you were rudely awakened by Jay cursing when he couldn’t go up to his floor.

You chuckled gleefully but then remembered that it meant Jay and you had to share this floor now.

You heard footsteps going past your door, down the hall to the lounge area. It was furnished with a futon couch which had to do as a substitute bed for Jay.

On day three you made sure to be up and ready first, realizing in the middle of the night that the bathroom on your floor didn’t have a lock. With quick steps you approached the front door, sure that you would find another note from you supervisor.

Good morning! Well? Didn’t I promise you that the punishment for not trying hard enough would be less space? Jay, how are you even able to go without food for two whole days? Did you bring protein bars with you? Either way, these are all locked away now. If you still refuse to eat the food that y/n makes, it will have further ramifications. If you still can’t manage to sit together and eat by midnight, tomorrow you’ll only be able to access the ground floor. Bye!

You grabbed the letter and furiously stomped in the elevator.

“Wake up! You have mail!” You barked at Jay who stirred in his sleep, groaning in disdain. You threw the letter at him and turned around to leave. As the previous days before, you made coffee and offered Jay a cup as soon as he entered the kitchen.

“Are you now in the mood to talk?” You asked mockingly. When Jay didn’t answer you took it as a sign to continue.

“I’m not too thrilled with my house mate either, especially since he’s treating me like dirt but I’ve been raised to respect all people, and to always believe in the good in them. But boy! You’re making it tough for me! So let’s hear it. What exactly is your problem with me?”

Jay gulped down his coffee, looking at you wide-eyed. In all the time you’ve been colleagues, he never saw you losing control like this. Even when people gossiped to your face, you still maintained a cool façade.

“What is it, huh? The fact that I presumably slept with the superiors? Because I couldn’t possibly be smart enough to make it on my own?”

“I’m sorry.” Jay said eventually, his head hanging low.

It took you a couple seconds to register what he said, not trusting your ears at first.

“Ok, then. Stop being a dick and eat the damn food I cook for you so we can go home!”

Jay didn’t respond, but his gaze was glued on your forearm.

“Your wound is bleeding again!” He stated, walking up to you.

You watched him get the first aid kit from the cabinet and proceeded to remove your blood-soaked band aid, cleaning the wound.

Applying ointment stung and you drew in a sharp breath, making Jay look up and lock eyes with you.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, blowing softly on your wound. Then he placed a larger band aid on it and bandaged your forearm.

“Thank you.” You said, confused by Jay’s sudden change in attitude. He nodded and put the first aid kit away.

“What’s for lunch?” He then asked meekly.

“Food. I don’t know what yet.”

“I can assist, if you need me to. Because of your arm and stuff.”

You were about to decline his offer, but remembered the letter from this morning.

“You could help me chop vegetables.”

He nodded content and retreated to the living room until lunch time.

“So where are you from? I noticed a dialect earlier when you got mad at me.”

You looked at him flabbergasted, irritated that it took a good yelling from you to get him to talk.

“Busan.”

“I’ve been to Busan, it’s nice there!”

“I’m sorry. This is creepy. I don’t know anything about you, yet we’re talking like two people who know each other.”

“Cut me some slack. I’m really trying here!”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry. So I guess you’re a Seoul native?”

“Born and raised, yes! My family lived in Seoul for generations. My dad was a pharmacists until he retired, and my mother still works as a teacher part-time because they don’t have anyone to replace her with.”

“Any siblings?”

“A younger brother. What about you?”

“I grew up in my grandmother’s house after my parents died. When my grandmother passed away I moved to Seoul. I was 15 at that time and had to work two jobs after school to pay rent for a small room.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You never asked.”

“Touché.”

Jay looked at you, and in his eyes you could see he had many more questions. And lots of regrets.

“Ask.” You encouraged him when you noticed him hesitating.

“For God’s sake, I received a full scholarship. That’s how I was able to attend a good university and get a job at the company.” You cried out when Jay remained silent, looking remorseful.

“I guess I got carried away by all the rumors I’ve heard. People said you were too good-looking to be that smart so you must’ve have had help.”

“I didn’t. And I didn’t want to. I hate being pitied!”

“Ok. Noted. Let’s finish cooking. I’m starving!”

Half an hour later you sat down, sharing the food you both helped make.

“Surely that will restore access to the top floor again, right?” Jay asked in between bites.

“I sure hope so. For your sake! That couch isn’t too comfortable.” You had noticed how Jay was winding in pain every time he had to bend down or reach up the top kitchen shelves. “If you want to, you can sleep in the bedroom tonight.” You blurted out without thinking, prompting Jay to almost choke on his food. “We can take turns.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to you. It’s my fault I have to sleep on the couch. I’ll endure.”

After dinner Jay helped you clean up the kitchen and then asked if you wanted to watch some tv. You sat down next to him, watching Netflix, until you were too tired to even keep your eyes open.

“I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Hmm.” Jay acknowledged and laid across the couch.

Rays of sunshine tickled your face. Birds chirped in the distance. Slowly, you turned around, your eyelids fluttering open. Initially your vision was blurred but then you were able to make out a silhouette.

A musky scent filled your nostrils and an unexpected warmth surrounded you.

Gradually your vision focused in on the shape laying next to you.

“OMG! Jay! What are you doing here?”

“Urgh! Why are you yelling?”

“Why are you in my bed? Get out!”

“The couch was too stiff.” He mumbled, rolling out of bed.

Instinctively you turned your head away, but stole a few glances when Jay wasn’t looking.

Dressed in his usual office attire, button down shirt and suit jacket, you couldn’t see just how much of his skin was covered in ink. You foolishly assumed the tattoos on his neck and hands were the only ones.

Seeing him shirtless now, you not only admired his muscular physique but also the art covering his skin.

“Like what you see?”

Only too late you noticed the mirror that hung on the wall across the room. In it, Jay could see you staring at him, licking your lips absentmindedly.

“That’s ridiculous! I wasn’t even looking.”

“Sure. I’ll go get dressed and make coffee. Come down when you’re ready.”

You nodded, still covering yourself with the blanket. As soon as Jay closed the door behind him you let out a sigh of relief.

You went on about your business but the picture of Jay shirtless, getting out of bed, never left your mind.

“There’s another letter.” Jay informed you as soon as you entered the kitchen. He handed you a cup of coffee and the letter he found at the door.

Good morning kids! It wasn’t that hard, now, was it? It even looked like you had fun! Either way, I have a new task for you today. Write down five compliments, five things you admire in each other, and discuss it at dinner. If you do well tonight, you’ll get a treat tomorrow! Bye for now!

That’s doable, you thought and shrugged your shoulders.

Downing your coffee in one gulp, you laid down on the couch, getting some work done on your laptop. When you looked out the window, you suddenly wanted to escape. Feeling close to having a panic attack, you quickly got up and fumbled with the glass door that led out to the pool. You managed to get it open and took a deep breath, filling your lungs with fresh air.

“Isn’t it too cold?” Jay wondered when you crossed the threshold, closing the door behind you. The pool area was surrounded by glass walls but there was no ceiling. With furrowed eyebrows you looked up at the sky until the falling flurries tickled your nose. Quickly you retreated back to the warm interior and sat back down on the couch. It was already lunch time so you got up and walked over to the kitchen. Jay was still seating at the counter, hunched over a sheet of paper, probably doing his homework. The coffee next to him had turned ice cold so you emptied it in the sink and began cooking.

Both of you remained quiet the whole time, but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. From time to time you would try to decipher what Jay was scribbling on his paper but his handwriting was horrible.

You chuckled, prompting Jay to look up, realizing you’ve been staring at his writing for a while.

“Hey! No cheating.” He yelled but laughed softly.

You chimed in, trying to deflect. “Me? Pfft! You must not know me very well.”

“I don’t, actually. Tell me more about you!”

Something in his tone alarmed you. He went from hating your guts to tolerating you, even be curious about you, all in 24 hours.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything!” He said and his eyes lit up for the first time.

So you did. You told him everything. Hours later the conversation shifted over to the couch, where you both occupied the opposite ends. When you looked out the window and realized it was already dark, you gasped.

“Oh no. Dinner!”

“Don’t worry.” Jay chuckled. “I can whip up something quick.”

He found ramyeon somewhere and prepared a pot, carefully setting it on the couch table and handing you a small bowl and chopsticks.

You stared at your food until the tears stung in your eyes.

“Is something wrong? Don’t you like it?” He whispered concerned.

You looked up at him, a single tear rolling down your cheek. “It reminds me of my grandmother.” You whispered almost inaudibly. “The year before she passed away, she started making me ramyeon once a week, saying that she read somewhere that that was what young people liked eating.”

“She sounded like a very sweet and caring person.”

“She was. Sacrificed so much to raise me.”

“Why did you move to Seoul?”

“My parents passed away when I was very young. For years my grandmother wouldn’t tell me how it happened. Before she passed away she told me that they were both killed when a building collapsed. They were in Seoul for the weekend, a small vacation to celebrate their wedding anniversary.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I wanted to visit the site, hoping to feel closer to them but my grandmother held my back saying it would hurt too much. She knew exactly what she was talking about. A year after the accident she received money, like every other bereaved family, and although she had financial problems she didn’t spend the money, instead she saved it for me. In a letter I found after her death, she wrote how that money was a constant reminder that her son and her daughter-in-law weren’t there anymore, how a child had to grow up without its parents.”

You wiped the tears off your cheeks, surprised that you were comfortable enough to share that story with Jay in the first place.

“Sorry. I rarely speak about these events.”

“Don’t apologize.” He spoke softly, getting up off the couch and knelt down in front of you. “Sometimes it’s good to let it all out.”

Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks and you buried your face in your hands. You vaguely remember Jay helping you up to your feet and wrapping his arms around you, allowing you to cry to your heart’s content. Next thing you know, you woke up in your bed, with Jay hugging you from behind, like a big spoon to your smaller one.

Instinctively you turned around, locking eyes with him. Carefully he brushed a loose strand of hair off your face and you cuddled up closer to him until you were practically on top of him, your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep, while his hand was stroking your hair.

Despite not knowing how you got to that point you knew exactly that it was what you needed the most at that moment.

Closeness. Intimacy. A shoulder to lean on. It’s been a while since you last admitted that to yourself.

“Jay…” You whispered, lifting your head, your gaze wandering from his eyes to his lips and back.

A silent agreement was made. One kiss. Just one kiss and nothing more. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you rested on your elbows until your face was inches apart from Jay’s. His scent was intoxicating, it made you forget everything else.

Slowly you dipped your head until your lips connected. An involuntary moan escaped as you parted them, allowing Jay’s tongue to go on an expedition.

One kiss!, you thought. Just one kiss.

Your hand grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of his neck and made Jay moan too. Without realizing, you ground your hips against Jay’s lap, while deepening the kiss.

Suddenly you stopped, creating some much needed space between you. No one was talking, you were communicating with your eyes.

Quickly you reconnected your lips, kissing frantically, struggling to get out of your clothes at the same time.

You woke up in an empty bed, groaning when you recalled last night’s events. It wasn’t the fact that you regretted sleeping with Jay. But still, something was nagging at you.

“Good morning.” You said meekly, while entering the kitchen. Jay stood behind the counter, drinking coffee. In front of him was a letter. You couldn’t be bothered to deal with it now, too ashamed of what you might read in it, so you just filled your cup with coffee and drank it in silence. Jay was silent too.

Did he already regret last night? Does he think now I’ll have expectations?, you thought but before you could say anything, Jay took his coffee and disappeared.

Sighing, you went on about your day, ignoring the letter for now.

It was past dinner time when you saw Jay again. Suddenly he came down and joined you on the couch. But he was neither looking at you nor talking to you.

Suddenly a light went on outside by the pool and a buzzing sound cut through the silence.

“Is that the surprise the letter mentioned?” Jay pondered to himself which prompted you to get up and read the letter. You had almost forgotten about it, your mind too busy dealing with other things.

Good morning to you! And what a good morning it is, am I right? ;)

You cringed, but kept reading nonetheless.

Since you made substantial progress yesterday, I thought I’d reward you today. Enjoy! A new task awaits you tomorrow. PS. I support an office romance, as long as it’s not interfering with productivity. ;)

You watched as Jay opened the glass door, and you were hit by an unexpected warmth.

“A heated pool?” Jay asked and was taken aback by more buzzing and whirring. “Bubbles? Nice!”

You stepped outside to check for yourself and saw that a part of the pool was sectioned off with bubbles turning it into a jacuzzi. The ceiling was covered by thick glass and the a fan was blowing warm air.

You were not impressed so you turned around and went inside. Jay followed close by, trying to get your attention.

“What’s wrong?” He demanded, cutting in front of you.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.” You said, pressing the button on the elevator.

“Stop!” Jay shouted before you stepped inside.

He sighed, searching for the right words to say.

“I don’t regret last night. And I don’t take it lightly. I want you to kn-” He stopped abruptly when he heard small sobs coming from you. Grabbing your shoulders, he turned you around so you were facing him, examining your face.

“Talk to me! I don’t know what’s going on inside your head unless you speak.”

“I’ve always sucked at expressing my feelings, but I can show you.”

With that you took a step forward, locking lips with him. The kiss turned passionate real fast and you jumped on his lap eagerly, wrapping you legs around his hips.

You didn’t protest when he carried you outside to the heated pool, didn’t protest when he slowly undressed you, drinking in every inch of your body. After undressing himself too, he took your hand guiding you inside the pool, the warm water instantly relaxing your muscles. You straddled his lap again, grinding on top of him as he kissed you passionately. Little moans escaped both your lips and you threw your head back, allowing Jay to claim you wholly.

After you came down from your high, Jay carried you outside the pool bridal style to an area where he patted your skin dry.

“What happens when we go back to Seoul?” You asked out of the blue. The loaded question took Jay by surprise too as his hand halted in mid-air.

“What do you mean?”

“Do we pretend that nothing happened?”

“Why would you want that?”

“Because everyone hates me at work, and I don’t want them to hate you too.” You said grabbing the towel, wrapping it around your body and going inside.

Good morning folks ;) I’m gonna be honest. I didn’t think this little experiment would be such a success. Maybe we should turn it into an annual thing!? Anyway, today is your second to last day here, so make it count. Originally I had something prepared for today. A little task that now seems unnecessary. Oh! Before I forget it. I’m actually not watching the camera footage myself, that’d be too cruel. No! There are two independent people that I hired specifically for the task, so don’t worry. Also. Surprise! I’ve restored access to the top floor again. Until tomorrow!

You hadn’t seen Jay all morning but now knew exactly where he was hiding.

Preparing two cups of coffee, you placed them on the tray and made your way to the top floor.

Knocking on his door lightly, you waited patiently for him to let you in.

“I thought we could talk.” You greeted him, walking past him, carrying the tray inside.

“What’s there to talk?” His harsh comment made your blood freeze in your veins but you would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting it.

“Jay, please!”

“What? Do you want to align stories? As you said, everyone at work hates you so I’m sure they won’t come to you for the gossip. What then? Do you need me to say something specifically?”

“Stop!” You yelled, clenching your fists into balls. “I knew something like this would happen. But I wasn’t expecting it to hurt this bad! I don’t care about what you say to your colleagues! I wanted to make sure everything was okay between us.”

“There isn’t an us. You made that pretty clear last night!” He spat, leaving his room.

Immediately you felt sick to your stomach. Using the last of your strength, you made it back down to your floor, collapsing on the bed, and breaking down in tears. You didn’t know where Jay was hiding and you didn’t care if your loud sobs could be heard throughout the house. You knew not to play with fire but in the end you got burned anyway.

You remained in bed all day, surprised to find a bowl of rice porridge by your bed when you woke up in the middle of the night. When you touched it you noticed it was hot. It made you cry again as you ate a spoonful of it, desperately trying to silence your growling stomach.

It was unusually quiet when you woke up in the morning. Shuffling to the kitchen, you were on the lookout for Jay. When you went behind the kitchen counter your eyes fell upon the letter. You really weren’t in the mood for it now but picked it up anyway, eager to get the uncomfortable part out of the way.

Only this letter began a little different.

Hey, I didn’t want to wake you so I’m writing you instead. I arranged for the van to pick me up a little early. There was no other reason behind it except the need for me to clear my head and figure some things out. The van will pick you up tomorrow, 8am. I’ll be waiting at your place and hope that you and I will get to sit down and talk. I apologize for making you feel bad, but I plan to apologize in person too. I’m not doing this because I can’t stand being near you, I hope you know that. Maybe you too could use this opportunity to figure some things out. Jay

You put the letter down, sighing. Jay was right. A lot had happened in the last six days, and none of you had a chance to digest it. But did you really want to deal with all of it? Was there something between Jay and yourself? Something more than just sexual attraction? After all, he was the one who made your life a living hell only a week ago. How did he turn into someone you grew attracted to in mere days? What would happen once you returned back to normalcy? How would your colleagues react? Would you be fine with the awkward stares at work?

You felt a headache coming the longer you thought about all of these things. It would be best to just end things with Jay. Cut him off before he had a chance to make a home for himself in your heart.

And although you knew this was the sensibel, the logical, the right thing to do, your heart ached at the thought of you having to avoid Jay.

In order to take your mind off all things Jay, you spent all day cleaning the entire house, even though you were sure a professional cleaning crew would show up as soon as you left. Still, you needed to occupy your mind to keep it from thinking about Jay.

At night you couldn’t sleep, counting down the minutes until you would be picked up in the morning.

You had been standing outside by the front door since 7am. When the van rolled up the driveway, you immediately grabbed your luggage and wheeled it towards the car. The driver got out and made a move to help you with your luggage but you had already stored it and climbed into the back seat. You saw him chuckling in the rearview mirror and wondered if he knew something. After informing you he would be taking you back to your place, he drove off.

When you arrived at your place and saw Jay waiting for you in the distance, you almost jumped out of the driving van. Walking up to him with quick steps, you tried your hardest to keep your emotions at bay. Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

“Did you really miss me?” He chuckled amused, wrapping his arms around your waist when you simply nodded as a response.

“I missed you too!” He whispered close to your ear and helped you carry your luggage inside.

Your small apartment was the complete opposite of the place you’ve been living in for the past week, yet you were happy to be back home. Out of habit you prepared coffee for Jay and yourself and took a seat on your couch.

But Jay wasn’t really interested in his beverage, instead pulled you onto his lap the minute you sat down.

Looking deep into your eyes, he caressed your cheek until his thumb brushed over your lips, parting them lightly. Immediately his lips were on yours, and you responded to the kiss by arching your back, your body glued to his, your fingers tangled in his hair, his hands resting on your lower back.

“Tell me this is more than just sexual attraction, tell me you want my heart as much as you want my body.” You spoke breathlessly in between kisses, daring Jay to share what was on his mind.

“I’m falling in love with you!” He finally said, out of breath too, before he sealed your lips with his again.

#Jay Park #more soju please #park jaebum #park jaebeom #park jaybum #ask response #ask me anything #anon ask #send me asks #asks open #anon request

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outerbankies · 3 years

Note

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨3

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) sleep paralysis, stress.

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

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

Note: I’m so happy people are liking this story. Thanks so much to everyone reading and sorry if I’m a bit inactive lately, I’ve been exhausted and yesterday didn’t end, I swear.

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

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

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

On Monday, you yawned over your keyboard as your fingers moved on instinct alone. Your eyes ran along the text but the words were just letters to you. You had a lot to think about, a lot to do.

You decided you would skip lunch and get through your work day an hour early so you could head to Clark’s right away. He was hard to deny when he asked if you could make it back so soon. You told him you worked everyday from home and you had hours beside that at the gallery three times a week at least. He accepted it with a nod but his silence was telling so you caved and said you could make it but not until the evening.

You texted Marcus as you waited for your Uber. He had a few hours to go still and you left him everything he needed to make supper with instructions; the veggies were cut, the meat thawed, and the pans already arranged on the stove. You had faith he could manage on his own.

The mansion was just as intimidating as the first time you visited. You walked up the drive and to the front steps. It was human nature to be envious of the sprawling yards and lavish estate and yet, it didn’t feel as if someone could truly live here. It would be like staying in a hotel as you were always overly aware of your every move, afraid to break something or make a mess.

You hammered the large knocker when your soft tapping brought no answer. You heard someone on the other side and wiggled your foot nervously. The door opened and square-faced woman greeted you in another language. You couldn’t tell if it was Swedish, German, or some other dialect. You were never a skilled linguist.

“Um, hi, I’m…”

“Ah, you are the lady painter,” she said, “I remember. I am Nina, Mr. Kent’s housekeeper.”

She turned and beckoned you to follow her. You closed the tall door and trailed her across the spacious foyer and behind the stairs into the kitchen. She turned through another room and led you out through the glass doors that opened onto the pool.

“Miss, would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” you said as the water moved and your eyes were drawn to the figure moving beneath the surface.

“Miss,” Nina nodded and left you.

You stood, awkward and listless, and glanced around at the loungers and the umbrella over the round table. You weren’t entirely sure what to do. Had he forgotten about you?

“Hey,” your gaze was drawn back to the pool. Clark waded to the edge, his broad shoulders and chiseled chest visible as he made his way to the shallow end, “sorry. Lost track of time.”

He grabbed the metal railing and climbed up the stairs. The water slaked off his tight trunks and down his thick thighs. He appeared even larger with less clothes. You looked away before your thoughts lingered too long.

“It’s fine, I should have texted I was on my way,” you said, “I can go wait for you--”

“No worries,” he took his towel and rubbed dry his dark hair. The scruff along his chin was thicker than before, almost a full blown beard, “you’re not in a hurry, are you?”

“No, not really, can’t really rush… painting,” you shrugged, “I just… I didn’t mean to catch you off-guard.”

“Pfft, I’m ready for anything,” he grinned, “but I should also listen to the artist. I’ll go get changed and you can get settled in the studio.” He directed you ahead of him as he approached the sliding doors, “you just finished work? You should take a few minutes to unwind.”

“Uh, yeah, but it’s just, um, typing, not exactly hard labour,” you said as he followed you inside.

“Work is work,” he said, “I will never fault anyone who works hard, regardless of what they do.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you stifled a yawn behind your hand.

He let out a breath as you came out into the foyer, “I’m sorry, you could’ve… you’re tired. We could have rescheduled. I’m sorry if I came across… pushy yesterday. I don’t mean to take advantage of you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assured him, “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” he said doubtfully, “but you let me know if you need a break.”

“Will do,” you murmured as you neared the stairs.

🎨

You weren’t even close to done just the background of the portrait. Clark really didn’t even need to be there as you shadowed the folds of the curtains around his figure and the marble bust. Your arm hurt from reaching across and up the gigantic canvas and your eyes burned from squinting at your work.

You backed off the ladder carefully with your paintbrush and palette balanced in one hand. The paint was drying and you needed to mix more. You set down your armful and wiped your hands on the rag. He was watching you, he was always watching you. Well, no, he was just looking in your direction; it was all for the portrait.

You hit the button on the side of your phone and gasped. It was midnight. You had several messages from Marcus and you blanched as you unlocked the cell and quickly texted back. You rubbed your eye as you hit send and turned to Clark.

“I didn’t realise it was so late,” you said, “I gotta go.”

“What time is it?” he asked and looked at his watch, “oh.”

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and stretched out his arms as he neared. You took your brush and rinsed it in the tinted water in the jar.

“I’ll just clean up as I wait for an Uber,” you said as you let the brush rest in the jar and lifted your phone again.

“I’ll drive you,” he said as he grabbed a rag, “it’s a long way. I’ll hire a driver for you from here on out. It’ll be easier and cheaper.”

“You don’t have to--”

You flinched as he wiped your cheek with the rag. He smiled and showed you the paint on the white cloth.

“I wouldn’t offer it if it was too much trouble,” he tossed the rag down, “and I did have something to talk to you about. The drive will be more than enough to get it sorted.”

“Oh, okay,” you eked nervously. Had you done something wrong? Were you not painting fast enough?

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he touched your arm gently.

He left you and you finished scraping off the palette and cleaning your brushes. You dumped the jar in the sink just inside the nearest bathroom and rinsed the porcelain back to white. You left everything arranged neatly on the table and descended to the first floor.

Clark stood by the door in a different jacket, his tie gone and the top button undone. He held the door for you and showed you to the garage. There were at least a half-dozen cars inside and he took you to the same silver one he drove the night of the show. You settled in and groaned as the tension left your shoulders.

He started the car as the doors rose behind him and he backed out smoothly. He turned down the long drive and onto the desolate roads of the wealthy countryside. He kept one hand on the wheel and dropped his other to his thigh casually.

“So, your job, you like it?”

“It’s work,” you said, “I get paid to sit at home and type. Half the time, I’m just waiting for an assignment.”

“I asked if you liked it,” he said more pointedly.

“Oh, well, not… really?” you answered, unsure.

He could be so pleasant and then so blunt. He made you nervous and the more you thought of it, the more you realised you knew almost nothing about this man besides his name. You didn’t know how he made his money or what exactly he did outside of his extravagant mansion.

“If I doubled your fee, would you quit?” he asked without hesitation.

“Quit? This… the painting won’t take forever,” you said, “I can’t really just drop everything--”

“This is an opportunity,” he said, “you could spend your days doing what you love. And who’s to say it’s just one painting? I already have something in mind for the dining room and I have friends asking about you.”

“Friends? Who--”

“One thing at a time,” he said curtly, “I’ll introduce you to them in time. Is it a deal?”

“I… it’s all very sudden, can I think about it?”

He looked at you in the rearview and you caught his eye. For a moment, you were afraid. There was something in his expression that left you breathless. He lifted his hand and stretched his arm between the seats, his fingers gripped the leather just above your shoulder.

“Sure, I’ll give you a couple days,” he said at last.

“I--I’m sorry…” you didn’t know why you were apologizing but it felt appropriate, “I just, I’m tired.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he assured and the epithet hung in the air.

“I have to go to the gallery tomorrow, I’ll get back to you on Wednesday,” you said as you rubbed your chin nervously. Your lips was quivering. He was smiling but you felt his impatience in the small space of the car, “if I… if I say yes, I have to talk to my boss and that might get messy.”

“No problem,” his voice softened, “you take some time and figure it out.” His thumb rubbed the leather seat and he pulled his arm away to grasp the steering wheel, “why don’t you close your eyes. We got some time left.”

You peeked over at him and nodded.

“Okay,” you murmured and hugged your bag against you as you tried to relax against the leather. You turned your head and looked out the window up at the starry sky. You closed your eyes as the fatigue settled over you but you could only fake dozing as your nerves stormed inside of you.

He was right, it was a great opportunity, but you just couldn’t believe it would last. Was it your own doubt getting to you? Or should you be weary of this fairytale buyer? It was late and you couldn’t think. All those worries could wait until tomorrow.

🎨

You crept into the dark apartment. It was after one and you foresaw a long day ahead of you. You’d get maybe four hours in before it all started again. You put your purse down and went into the bedroom, undressing in the shadows and crawling into bed next to Marcus as the colours of the tv moved around him. The playlist he was casting kept on even as he slept.

He grunted as you laid on your back and he turned to graze your arm with his fingertips.

“You’re home,” he grumbled and kissed your cheek, “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I… it’s so far out there and it’s a lot of work. The canvas is like nine feet-- I’m sorry, I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” his voice was gristly as he propped himself up on his elbow, “you’re gonna finish the job right?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can,” Marcus insisted, “I mean, at that price, you can do anything.”

“It’s not about the money, Marcus,” you huffed, “I don’t know if it’s worth all this. Going back and forth…” you ran your hands over your face, “he wants me to quit my job and just paint for him.”

“You should,” Marcus said blithely, “why not? He’s paying you well enough.”

“And what about when I’m done,” you whined.

“You’ll find more work. Vanessa even offered to take on more of your work in her shows, so what’s the problem? Isn’t this what you want?”

“Y-yeah, it is but… I don’t know, it just seems too good to be true.”

“You do this and we might even have enough for a down payment,” he said, “something had to give after all these years. Why can’t it be this?”

You looked at him and tried to smile, “you’re only saying that because he has a pool.”

“Maybe,” he kidded, “but I also want it for you. You spend all your free time painting anyhow so why not get paid for it?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, “yeah, I just don’t know why I feel so… I don’t know. It just all seems off.”

“Sleep on it, you’ll feel better,” he leaned over and kissed your lips that time, “love you.”

“Love you,” you echoed as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv.

You closed your eyes as the darkness shrouded you and despite your anxiety, you fell into a deep sleep. You didn’t even roll onto your side before you sank into your REM but found yourself caught in limbo. The abstract and intense sensation of paralysis overtook your body and your eyelids flicked open.

It was an awful feeling you knew too well. You knew you were dreaming, you knew it was all in your mind, but your body was filled with sand and your subconscious conjured visions of doom. The tall man stood by the door as he always did and just stared. He got closer, just a little at a time, and you fought to move just a finger and free yourself from the trance.

You felt like you were drowning as your body remained heavy and unmoving. He was getting closer and closer. As he did, his figure changed and his shoulders got wider as his features came clear in the slat of the streetlight that leaked between the curtains. It was Clark staring down at you, his blue eyes sinister and sparkling.

He reached for you and you woke with a start as your name rose from his lips. You inhaled sharply and looked over at Marcus as he snored. It was only the two of you. You reached for your phone, it was just after three. You turned onto your side but your heart still raced. It always happened when you were stressed, the dreams felt so real that you never really came back down after.

You stared at the wall and curled up under the blanket. You didn’t expect to get much sleep anyway, not with the question on your mind. Should you quit and live your dream or should you kill all hope before life did it for you?

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

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hslotharrie · 3 years

Text

To My Best Friend

summary: reader faces quarantine at Harry’s and, turns out, it was exactly what they needed to come clean. also, Anne is the superior Mum.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: completely fluff. with marriage + mentions of family? not edited... when do I ever edit

based off of this ask<3

When you wake, the sun is shining through a slightly opened window in the far left corner of your bedroom. You can hear birds chirping amongst themselves from outside, cars driving far in the distance, it's quiet at Harry's home. Peaceful.

It's been a little more than four months since you and Harry decided to bubble at the beginning of quarantine. What you expected to be a few weeks turned into a lot more, but there were no complaints. Harry has the space, is the type to crave company, and you're his best friend.

Best friend.

You roll in the soft sheets, hugging the covers for a few minutes until you inevitably force yourself to get up for the day. You're not sure what sort of expensive luxury bed set this is, but god, they are comfy. You make a mental note to ask him later.

You zone out again on the soft sounds of the birds and the pleasant cool breeze flowing in through the window. You pull your phone from the bedside table to check the time, 10:56– and the weather, sunny and 78. You consider getting in the pool later.

Harry's phone rings somewhere outside of your room, followed by some muffled mumbling from the man himself signalling that he's awake too. You wonder if he's ate yet; he's a sucker for your omelettes and you're craving one about now.

You climb out of bed, going to the bathroom to tame your hair and brush your teeth, before heading to the kitchen to put together ingredients for the omelettes.

It's about 10 minutes before Harry appears in the kitchen, provoked by the smell. He places a hand on your lower back as a silent 'good morning!' while he stands to your side to admire your cooking. You try your best to ignore the warm feeling that his touch brings; the feeling that makes you wish for more than just a touch.

It makes you nervous, how quickly his presence has you feeling butterflies or how fast he can make you smile when you're in the darkest of moods. You've been sitting on the feelings for years, they were always there, hiding in the back of your head. The feelings that made you wish you'd shared that drink with him just for the second-hand contact to his lips.

Those are the thoughts that make you nervous. You try not to think about them when he's standing right next to you watching your every move with a wandering hand on the small of your back.

He's dressed in a colourful flannel and some shorts, you notice, much different than your fresh out of bed joggers and t-shirt. You make a mental note to change later, and you consider stealing one of his flannels (there's the thoughts again,) just to have his smell on you.

He pulls away from you to begin setting up the eating area, bringing out cups and silverware and then returning with a plate when he senses the omelette is nearly done. He stands to your left with the plate held in both hands like an excited toddler and when you flip the breakfast meal onto his plate he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead in thanks. The thoughts come rushing back; I like when you kiss me, Harry.

"D'you have any plans for today?" he quizzes, before taking a drink of his orange juice.

"Was thinking about going in the pool later," you tell him, "it seemed nice out, an' I love your pool."

"I rather like my pool too," he chuckles "I'll join you, yeah? Could go for a swim later."

When you finish eating, Harry takes the plates to wash despite your protests. You cooked, he argues, so he cleans. You glance at the time, almost 12, and decide that the time it will take to change and freshen up will be enough for your stomach to settle and therefore a swim will be safe.

Returning upstairs, you first search for a bikini and then your sunglasses, changing and adding a pair of shorts. You brush your hair, throughly this time, and tie it up to avoid contact with the chlorinated water.

Before you go back downstairs, you take a minute to look at yourself in the mirror— doing your best not to allow the thoughts to come forward. (You don't think about how your body will look to Harry, and you definitely don't allow yourself to think about what he might think about the bikini you chose. Absolutely not.)

When you return downstairs to the kitchen, the dishes are washed and on the drying rack. Grabbing two cups and straws, you fill each about half with ice and then filtered water; and carry them both out to the poolside where Harry sits contently in the sun.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry's eyes travel along your body through his sunglasses when you appear from inside of the house, wishing he could touch you. His brain flicks back to the phone call he had this morning with his Mum, how she encouraged him to make a move because she knows you're meant to be. His stomach flips thinking about it.

"Do you remember when we went to that party and you pushed that guy into the pool because he was flirting with me?" you smile, sitting down beside him and handing him one of the cold waters.

"Mm, we had to leave because he was gonna' beat me up," Harry chuckles, "I was drunk. Probably lucky he ended up in the pool."

"You were being protective! It was cute!" you defend, rubbing his back lazily in comfort. He looks at you in a funny way, smile faltering a little before he returns his eyes back to the pool.

"M'gonna test the waters so the princess doesn't freeze," He proposes, rising from his seat when you give him a playful smack.

You rise as well, shimmying off your loose shorts and moving to sit at the side of the pool. Watching harry submerge himself first, you let your legs dangle off of the edge and into the water. It's cold, but a pleasant, enjoyable cold in the hot sun.

You sit contently for a few minutes, enjoying the water on your legs and watching harry swim back and forth. You lean back and turn your attention somewhere else, trying to avoid being caught staring. Suddenly, though, a hand brushes up the side of one of your submerged legs, informing you of Harry's presence.

"Y'coming in?" he asks, standing now. He's tall, so your faces are about level now.

"Are you in a hurry?" He's close enough now that he's dripping cold water on your skin.

"Maybe,"

Suddenly, he's gripping your waist to lift you and pull you into the water. You squeal, grabbing his shoulders as leverage as he practically drops you into the water that feels ice cold against your warm sunny skin. He laughs loud and happy when you splash water in his direction as payback.

Soon, both of your energies mellow out. Harry's on his phone, while you're floating around in a doughnut shaped floatie. Harry snaps a photo, but you don't notice.

When it's time to get out, Harry offers to go grab the towels while you float around for a few more minutes. He's driving you crazy in the best way. Your skin still tingles where he had touched your sides to lift you into the water, and your palms burn with the memory of his bare shoulders.

When he returns, it's like his energy has changed. The sight of a shirt over his chest makes you frown momentarily, and he's light on his feet rather than the happy strides he took on his way into his home. You see him tuck his phone into his pocket as if he's been talking to someone again, and when his eyes meet yours the wide smile is hiding something else.

When you slip out of the doughnut and climb up the pool ladder, he mumbles a soft "c'mere" and wraps the towel around your shoulders. His eyes watch you for a little longer than they should've.

"Mum called again," He murmurs.

"I's she doing well? Is that who called this morning?" you question, keeping your attention on his eyes.

"Yeah, woke you up I suppose,"

"Not at all!" You defend.

He goes quiet, picking at his fingernails (a nervous habit you notice he's developed since beginning to paint his nails) and looking off to the side to avoid holding eye contact with you. This makes you nervous, he's never this way around you.

"Harry,"

"I'm sorry, 'shouldn't be such a big deal," he says, letting out an awkward laugh.

A soft smile appears on your face, taking his hands into yours to part them. Gently, you move towards him, pressing yourself wordlessly into his body and allowing his hands to wrap around your towel-covered body. It brings him comfort, and you ignore your own heart beating at the contact.

"Better?"

"A little." He admits. He loves holding you, and sure, it helps his nerves, but he's going to tell you.

His Mum's been on him since he told her you'd be staying with him, telling him “now or never, Harry!”, and he's beginning to realize it really is now or never. He doesn't know how long quarantine will keep up or how much longer you will decide to stay, and he misses you even when you're just running something as simple as a grocery trip.

He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows a friendship as strong as yours could work through anything, Still, there's always the possibility that things could go bad. “Get out of your head!'”Anne would say.

This type of topic between the two of you is quite common, given Harry's music and your tendency to be quite open. However, this type of topic concerning the two of you is uncharted territory.

He thinks about the story you'd brought up earlier. When you'd both went to a party together and some guy, very obviously drunker than the both of you, tried to flirt his way into your pants before Harry had pushed him into the pool himself.

The truth is, he knew you would hold your ground if you weren't interested. Actually, Harry knows from first-hand experience that you don't need protection, you can be very vocal when you need to be, and he's even seen you deck someone at the bar a few years back for touching one of your friends. You were the protector.

That's why, upon seeing Harry at such a nervous loss of words, you had hugged him. It was your own way of protecting him.

"I wasn't trying t'protect you when I pushed that guy into the pool." He states, quiet and unsure.

You only hum in reply, allowing him to finish his sentence but letting him know you heard what he said.

" 'was jealous."

What?

"What?" you pull away from him only slightly, “why?"

"I didn't want stupid—" he pauses for the name "Josh, or whatever, t'be the one to take y'home."

You give him a confused look, now that you can see his face. Not putting two and two together.

"Josh is great! I love Josh—"

"More than me?" he murmurs, and it clicks.

Oh.

"Of course not... Harry," you hesitate, watching his eyes move between your own and his jaw clench.

Is this happening?

"I wanted," his shaky hand finds your arm, sliding down to take hold of your own, equally shaky left hand to toy with your fingers.

"I wanted t'take you home. Crawl into bed with you. Whatever else." he finishes. His stomach is in butterflies by now and he feels the tight, anxiety feeling in his lungs.

It catches him completely off guard when your lips are on his.

When you try to pull away, scared you've overstepped, his mouth only follows your own and his hand rises to your jaw to hold you steady. He feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, holding you, kissing you, like this. This is what he's needed.

When you finally do pull away, it's to go inside. Harry erupts in happy laughter when you make a beeline up the stairs. Nothing happens though, it's too soon and Harry agrees, but that doesn't stop you from curling into Harry's sheets, cuddling and kissing each other while watching one of your favourite films.

Catching up on missed time.

***

The wedding reception.

How did we end up here?

"Honestly," Harry speaks loudly to the crowd of your family and friends within the dinner hall "I have two people to thank for sealing the deal."

You smile wildly, knowing exactly which story he's about to bring up. Your eyes travel through the table groups you and Harry had spent so much time planning out. When your eyes catch with Mitch's he gives you a wink.

"Anne, my beautiful Mother, thank you for not letting me coward out of finally telling my girl how I felt," he pauses, you place a hand on his knee

"And Josh—"

You can't hold back the laugh, especially when the entire room turns to face the poor, completely unsuspecting victim. Josh, face red and confused smile on his lips.

"Years ago, when I pushed you into that pool at your birthday party because— you would've killed me if I didn't run! Because you were talking to her and I got jealous!" the room is erupting in laughter.

The room is full of the most important people in your's and Harry's lives. Still though, your happy eyes are glued to Harry, working the small crowd of people as per usual and telling a story about the time of and before quarantine; of when you'd basically moved in with him and never left.

Later, when you're wrapped in warm blankets and Harry's arms, you're reflecting on your day. The guests, who you'd talked to, what you'd heard.

"Wow. I'm married." he dumbfounds.

Wow is right.

"We're married." you restate for him, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Wow. I'm married to my best friend.”

Giggles boil over in the dark room. Harry is astonished suddenly, pupils blown, wide grin on his face. He presses quick kisses to the side of your face and you snuggle into his side more.

"I think we win, H."

#i feel like this was sorta rushed but hskdjsks it’s fine #can you tell i love the zane lowe interview #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #fineline #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles friends to lovers #harry styles marriage #request #not edited

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angryschnauzer · 4 years

Text

No i In Team

Summary: Having been dumped, you find yourself standing in the mud and rain as a bootcamp instructor yells at you. Finally you snap, telling him your mind before storming off. Later when he appears at your room to see if you are ok, he makes sure you are fully over your ex, proving that some men are a lot better than others.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or body type mentioned) Fandom; Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Rough sex, vaginal sex, doggy style, cowgirl, inappropriate use of a mini sombrero.

I do not operate a tag list, however please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You will then get an alert every time i post something.

My masterlist got too large for tumblr, so now you can check out my AO3 on THIS LINK to find my previous stories.

No I In Team

This was it. This was the worst decision you had ever made. In fact, the worst collection of the worst decisions. Ever. In the history of decision making.

The rain continued to pour. Any sane person would not be standing in the middle of an assault course in this weather. They certainly wouldn’t be joining in on a ‘team building get-away’ when you had in fact already quit the company and it just finished your notice period. And they really wouldn’t have come when their ex was parading his new girlfriend around and they were on the same team as you.

Okay, so the last bit wasn’t in your control; your ex had in fact dumped you - via text - whilst you were in the cab there. Which honestly was a bit of a surprise seeing as you were meant to be sharing a room, and you had splashed out on one of the luxury rooms in the hotel where the corporate events were held at. He was a little surprised - which proved how much of a dumbass he really was - when you refused to let him and his new girlfriend take your room, and you stay in the smaller and cheaper one she had paid for. It was simple, you had paid, they could fuck off.

The other girlfriend, now that was a surprise. You didn’t want to hate her, she seemed very sweet but there were definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic going on with her. Your weasel of an ex had cited a number of reasons for the break up, all laying blame on you, but really you had known it was coming and were quite relieved in a way… he was now someone else's problem.

However, because of being blindsided by the break up, you had continued on autopilot and now found yourself soaked to your skin, and the enormous brute that ran the bootcamp was doing his best to yell at every single person to ‘encourage’ them. Jesus christ you weren’t built for climbing up ropes and flinging yourself over 10ft walls, and with each passing obstacle you were falling further and further behind.

“COME ON! GET YOUR SORRY ASS OVER THAT ROPE NET!”

Rolling your eyes you let out a huff and slid-ran through the three inch deep mud, starting to climb the net that led up to a rope ladder you were expected to climb across as it was suspended over a pool of muddy water. You looked into the distance, your ‘team mates’ having well and truly left you behind, and as you reached the bottom of the net you looked up at it, taking in how muddy and slippery it was where 11 other people had already climbed up it;

“ARE YOU AFRAID OF A NET? PULL YOURSELF UP AND STOP FUCKING AROUND IN THE MUD”

The ‘Captain’ yelled at you from six feet away. Jesus you were fed up with him. The guy looked like he lived, breathed, and slept military. At the start of the course he had introduced himself as Captain Syverson, but everyone was to refer to him as Captain. His fatigues and t-shirt were plastered to his skin, his beard soggy as puffs of steam came from his mouth as he continued to yell at you.

You turned to him, watching as he took a single stride and was just a foot from you, taking a deep breath to yell again before you pushed your hand up and pressed a single finger to his mouth;

“No”

He stopped, unable to hide his surprise as his eyebrows shot up before you pulled your finger away.

“Get your ass up that net, NOW!”

Crossing your arms you repeated yourself;

“No. I will not”

“THERE IS NO I IN TEAM!”

“No. There isn’t. But there is an i in Vibrator”

“W-what?”

“Vibrator. Dildo too. And i quit”

“You can’t quit”

“Unless you are going to throw me over your shoulder and carry me across that net and ladder, i quit. I am going to go back to my expensive hotel room, stopping at the bar to buy a bottle of the hardest liquor they have, have a hot bath, and give myself something a man has never been able to”

“What’s that?”

“An orgasm”

You turned on your heel and started towards the hotel building in the distance, leaving the Captain speechless in the rain. When you were halfway across the lawns you could hear him yelling at the rest of the team, but you couldn’t give a fuck, you’d had enough.

The bath was amazing. You’d spent a good hour if not two in it letting the spa jets send streams of bubbles over your body, and had in fact given yourself the first of many orgasms you had planned for your evening. You had been disappointed when you’d discovered that the bar wouldn’t sell bottles of alcohol, but the bartender had quietly told you that if you ordered the corporate entertainment tray over room service they were obliged to send up a selection of miniatures with mixers and nibbles.

You were still standing in your towel when you heard a knock at the door, puzzled to be interrupted as you had the Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the handle. Approaching the peephole you looked through, surprised to see who was on the other side. Opening the door a few inches you looked out, and saw him leaning casually against the doorframe, now wearing dry clothes that accentuated how he was 101% muscle, from the kingfisher blue sweater that made his eyes even brighter, to the dark denim that clung to his muscled thighs, a smirk played across his face when he saw what you were wearing;

“Hi”

“Captain?”

He shifted and held out a bottle of Tequila;

“The bar doesn’t sell liquor by the bottle”

He motioned for you to take it, and as you did so you swung the door open a little more, seeing him look you up and down, his eyes growing a little darker as he licked his lips;

“I thought about what you said…”

“Which part”

“About what words the letter i are in” you didn’t realise but he had shifted a little closer, his toes now over the threshold of the room; “Cos’ i thought of another word that has the letter i in”

You cocked your head to the side, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, already gauging the reason his thickly muscled man was at your hotel room door with a smile and alcohol;

“Dick has got an i in”

“You’re absolutely right” you pulled the cork from the bottle of Tequila, taking a sip and grinning at the captain as you fiddled with the little hat that hung from the neck of the bottle, taking a step back as he slowly crept further into the room. A flash of lightning from the bad weather outside illuminated the room, and yet the air between your bodies almost sparked from the energy you were giving off.

“But my favourite letter is U”

“Ok… i’m waiting for the punchline…”

“Because that’s in the word Tongue, and i would very much like my tongue to be in u”

Closing the gap between you, you pressed two fingertips to his chest, the soft blue sweater he now wore warm to the touch;

“That…” you paused, walking your fingers up his chest with each word: “Was the best pick up line i’ve ever heard, Captain”

Pushing the door shut behind him, his slid his hand into the split of your towel, his warm palm resting on your hip before pulling you flush with his chest;

“You can call me Sy”

He had lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, the towel trapped between your bodies but now unraveled as it dragged along the floor, your naked back and ass cooling in the air of the room, but soon warmed by two large hands as they roamed over your skin. His kiss was rough, his tongue licking into your mouth as his beard tickled your face.

You hadn’t even realised he’d gotten to the bed until he had pulled away and sat down, pulling you down with him so you were straddling his waist;

“Ride my face, let me give you what you need” he growled, his hands on your ass pushing you up his body.

You’d quickly scrambled to set the bottle onto the nightstand before straddling his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief as his massive hands cupped your ass. He pulled you down until you were literally seated on his face, his thick beard brushing against your thighs and ass, his tongue burying itself between your slick folds, teasing you open.

Winding one hand through his short brown hair, the soft chocolate curls caressed your fingers as your other hand rested against the headboard of the bed to steady yourself, his eagerness already rapidly pushing you towards an orgasm, your body still buzzing from the one you’d given yourself in the bath.

“Oh fuck… Sy, Jesus Christ your tongue…”

You’d never met a man with a tongue so wide and juicy, the thick muscle pulsing within your cunt as his nose teased your clit, and soon you were shaking above him, attempting to push up on your legs from the intensity of it, only for his strong grip to tighten on your ass and pull you back down onto his face.

“Ride my tongue Darlin’” you heard his muffled voice, and as you looked down you saw his face was flushed but his eyes held nothing but mischief.

Tossing your head back you let yourself go, calling out his name as you unashamedly rode his tongue to an intense orgasm, flooding his face with your juices.

Limp and pliable, you felt him lifting you before setting you down on the bed, his lips finding your neck and shoulders as he pressed kisses to your skin. The storm raged outside the window, rain lashing against the glass and making you feel even more enclosed in as Sy’s body covered your own. Finally enough of your senses returned that you grabbed his face and pulled him in for a fierce kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. When he finally broke away from your lips he started to kiss down your body, only for you to tug at his soft blue sweater, wanting the knitwear gone;

“Okay ok Darlin’...”

“Want to see you… feel you…” you were lust drunk now, a fire in the pit of your belly where you wanted nothing more than this beast of a man to split you open and fuck you raw.

He let out a low belly laugh, pushing off you and standing, a grin on his face as he saw you watching him as he stripped for you.

With his sweater tossed aside, he toed his boots off as his hands made quick work of his jeans, revealing a pair of tight black boxer briefs that were obscenely bulging at the front. Clenching your thighs together did little to satisfy the arousal, and as he tucked his thumbs under the elastic of his underwear you bit your lip as he teased you, pulling the elastic down to reveal the thick bush of hair and a tantalizing peek at the thick root of his shaft. Inch by inch he lowered his underwear until they dropped to the floor, and your mouth was agape as you took his size in all his glory;

“Wow, you really do have the equipment for the BDE you give off...” He paused and looked at you, cocking an eyebrow as you started to explain; “It means big…”

“I know what it means” he smirked, hooking his finger at you and watching as you crawled over the bed until your face was level with his rapidly hardening dick; “Why don’t you show me how good that mouth of yours is?”

Wrapping your hands around his hot flesh you could feel him growing harder and thicker under your touch, leaning your head forwards until you could take him into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue as he grunted above you;

“That’s it Darlin’, get me nice and wet, gonna have this buried in you sooner or later, the harder you get me the more dick you get inside you”

He rested his hand on the back of your head, guiding you to take him deeper but without being pushy about it. When his tip nudged at the back of your throat you fought back the feeling, looking up with watery eyes as his own bored into your soul as his dick tried to do the same to the back of your skull.

Holding you deep he finally with a gasp pulled himself out of your mouth with a string of curses, stroking your hair as you coughed and sucked in precious oxygen;

“Fuck, that mouth of yours is a thing of wonder Darlin’... but i want to get into that sweet cunt of yours… how do you need it?”

“N-need it?”

He gently pushed you onto your back, crawling over you until he was poised and ready to go;

“Yeah, need it. You’ve just broken up with some limp dick, how do you need me to fuck you?”

“W-what are the options?”

“You want slow and gentle, or you want me to fuck you like a beast and toss you around like a rag-doll”

“Beast mode please”

With a low growl he grinned as he surged forward and caught your lips with his own, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth as he took complete control. You felt him gripping his dick as he swiped it through your soaked folds, dousing himself with your wetness before he pulled away and grasped you by the hips as he knelt on the bed, pulling you up his thighs before thrusting his fat girth into you with one swift movement.

“HOLY FUCK!”

“That’s it Darlin, take my dick all the way. I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget about anyone else that has ever disappointed you”

Gritting his teeth he moved your body like you were a rag-doll, pulling you onto his hardness as you could do little but to go limp and let your mind get flooded by the pleasure he was giving your body thanks to the best sex you’d ever had. Gripping at the sheets you felt an orgasm start to building within you;

“Sy… keep doing that… i’m gonna cum…”

With a smile and a grunt he did exactly as you asked, keeping his pace fast and steady as you lost control around him, your back arching as your legs shook and you came hard. You were trembling from the force of the aftershocks as he slowed down and finally stilled, letting you relax onto the duvet as he covered your body with his, pressing openmouthed kisses to your chest, murmuring against the soft flesh;

“These titties are spectacular”

He moved a little and you felt that he was still hard, a smirk back on his face;

“Oh i’m not done yet Darlin’, that was just an intermission”

He pulled out of you and you found yourself being flipped over, your ass pulled up as he filled you from behind this time, his thickness splitting your walls open and his massive hands found their way to your breasts, pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers as he pile drove into you from behind;

“Feel so fucking good Darlin, love the way your cunt feels around my dick, wanna feel you cum again before i shoot my load in ya’, then you can have a breather before round two”

Your eyes went wide; this was still only round one? Fuck, Sy was an utter beast and as he tilted his hips and his dick hit just the right spot, your eyes rolled back in their sockets and your jaw hung open, the pleasure running through your veins turning your brain to jelly and all you could comprehend was Sy fucking the living daylights out of you.

Starting to tremble, your sighs became squeaks which became screams of his name as you started to cum and it kept going, your body squeezing him tighter than a vice before he finally came with a beastly roar, shooting ropes of his creamy seed and coating velvet walls.

The pair of you slumped down onto the bed, your bodies still joined as he pressed kisses to the back of your neck. Finally he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss of his warmth and weight on top of you, instinctively rolling and curling up against his side as you rested your head on his chest, the song of his heartbeat strong and steady beneath your ear;

“Fuck… that was amazing”

He gently stroked one hand over your back;

“You can say that again Darlin’. Your pussy is like heaven… never had a cunt grip me so tight and be able to take me balls deep before...”

You smiled and let your eyes rest for a moment, before you felt him shift and the sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle disturbed your post orgasmic bliss. Looking up you saw him oof the cork out of his mouth before bringing the bottle of tequila to his lips and taking a large mouthful. Holding the bottle to you he grinned as you sat up and took it, following suit and still wincing at the burn as the expensive liquid slid down your throat.

Just at that moment there was a massive crack of thunder outside and an immediate flash of light, before the electricity fizzled out, plunging you into darkness. You weren’t afraid of the dark but the suddenness of it made you squeal, Sy pulling you close;

“Shhh its ok Darlin’, this place gets its power knocked out all the time cos’ its up on the hill here. That’s why there’s candles in every room”

He deftly slid out of your grasp and you heard him fumbling around on the floor before he illuminated the room with his phone, and you watched as his silhouette made its way across the room and you heard the click of a lighter. Moments later the room had a pale glow from the candles that had sat on the side table, and as he carried one back to bed you saw that he was still hard;

“How are you…”

“Still up? Oh Darlin’ i can go eight or nine rounds before i droop”

“Eight or… nine…”

He flopped down onto the bed beside where you sat, his hands behind his head and a wide smile on his face;

“So, what do ya’ wanna do next?”

You laughed softly before taking another sip of tequila, toying with the little hat that was attached to it before a sudden urge overtook your senses. With a look of amusement on his face Sy watched as you took the hat from the bottle and softly tied it to his dick, the hat standing proud on his tip;

“A perfect fit” he remarked, but before either of you could say anything else a knock at the door interrupted you.

“Babe?” a quiet voice came from the other side of the door; “You in there?”

Your heart sank;

“Its my ex… I’m gonna go tell him to fuck off…”

Sy caught your arm gently, a grin on his face;

“Let me”

What happened next was something you could only have dreamt of, and as you pulled a pillow in front of you to hide your nakedness, Sy basked in his own naked glory as he strode to the door and pulled it open;

“Yes?”

Your ex stood in the hallway outside your room, his bags at his feet;

“What are you…?”

“I’m busy keeping my girl happy. What’re you doing here?”

“I got dumped…”

“Well champ, that sounds like a you problem…”

Without another word Sy stepped back and shut the door, making sure to flip the security lock extra hard so that your ex could hear it from the hallway. Striding back to the bed you couldn’t help but to laugh;

“I can’t believe you answered the door completely naked, hard, and with a mini sombrero on your dick!”

Climbing onto the bed he lay on his back, his hands behind his head as he grinned at you, wriggling his hips so his hard dick swayed to and fro with the hat still attached;

“Oh i think it made the moment all that more memorable Darlin’”

“He’ll certainly remember it, that’s for sure”

You carefully took the little adornment off of Sy, tossing it aside as you straddled his hips and grasped his hot shaft, helping to find your waiting entrance before sinking down onto him.

The feeling of taking him inch by inch was almost overwhelming; thick and gnarled, his fat dick stretched you in every direction, and you were thankful for the added lubrication of his cum already dripping out of you.

As you started to ride him you could feel your body already deceiving you and climbing towards a rapid orgasm, and you found yourself cupping your breasts and twisting your nipples to distract yourself and let it last just a little longer. However when Sy’s massive hands rested on your hips and he started to thrust up into you, it was the beginning of the end. The final straw was when he slid one hand to your front, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing quick circles firmly against the engorged bud did it send you over the edge and you were coming again, back arched and head thrown back as your bodies moved as one in the candlelight.

Sy fucked you until the storm cleared and the candles fizzled out, just the moonlight illuminating your room when you both crawled under the duvet and fell asleep, sweaty bodies cooling in the night, sated from your energetic lovemaking.

Come morning and you were woken up by a series of featherlight kisses to your naked back and shoulders. For the briefest moment panic set in, but then you remembered your bed companion from the night before;

“Mmm Mornin’ Darlin’” he drawled, his voice low and coarse from sleep.

Turning you smiled at him before his lips caught yours for a gentle kiss. What followed was the best oral you’d ever received, followed by a steamy session of shower sex where for the first time in your life you’d felt confident that your partner was strong enough to not let you slip and injure yourself.

The following room service breakfast had been thoroughly enjoyable where the two of you had talked and laughed, swapped numbers and both made it clear you’d like to see the other again. Sy had even driven you back to the train station, where you’d attracted the odd few stares as he’d kissed you with tongues and teeth before giving your ass a squeeze.

Two weeks later.

Sy fiddled with the zippered pocket on his fatigues as he waited nervously outside the meeting room at the corporate offices. After what had seemed like an amazing night with you, he’d arrived at work on Monday to discover one of his boot camp cadets had made a formal complaint about his ‘lewd behaviour’. He knew it wasn’t you, but it had distracted him from the string of text’s you’d shared in the following days. He was thankful that you’d told him not to apologise, having started your new job and that was full on from the word go.

The door to the meeting room opened and his name was called, standing he smoothed his shirt down and nodded before entering the room. This was probably the most nervous he’d been since leaving the army; at least there if you fucked up you got a court marshall, now he was a civilian if he lost his job it meant he couldn’t pay his bills.

You were attempting to get a file out of the huge stack that sat on your desk without knocking your coffee over when your office door opened and a friendly face peered around the corner;

“Hey, you ready for the disciplinary hearing?”

“The what?... Oh, right… let me find the file…”

“Did you read it?”

Shaking your head you grinned at the manager of offsite contractors;

“Don’t worry, i’ve skimmed it. You guys brought me in to sort through this mess my predecessor left behind, I just wasn’t expecting it to be this much of a mess…”

Grabbing your coffee and the file with that day's date on, you followed your colleague through the building, attempting to scan over the complaint, frowning when you saw that the printer been running out of toner and had omitted the two parties names. Nevermind, you could always write those in.

Chewing on your pen as you shut the meeting room door, you quickly took a seat at the end of the table, looking up and only then your eyes going wide. On one side sat your ex, and someone that looked like a low rate lawyer judging by the cheap suit and even cheaper briefcase. On the other side sat Sy - Captain Syverson - whose eyes were as big as saucers and you saw the slightest hint of a smile start to tug at the corner of his mouth before he restored his poker face.

The manager introduced himself and then you;

“This is our new Human Resources manager, she’ll be overseeing this meeting”

Taking one last look at your report you took a sip of your drink before standing, keeping your face neutral;

“So, your client alleges that our employee acted in a lewd manner whilst on a team building exercise two weeks ago?”

“That is right Miss, you see…”

“And that your client wishes to pursue a lawsuit based on ‘emotional distress’ and that our employee caused the breakdown of his relationship”

“Yes Miss, Its like this you see…”

Cutting the lawyer off again, you looked pointedly at your ex;

“So, did you or did you not actually end the relationship with your partner, before even meeting Captain Syverson? Actually there’s no need to answer, i have a transcript of the text messages here…” you looked down at your your file, although you knew the texts by heart; “And i quote “I’ve found someone new, someone prettier than you, she’s better in bed too”

You looked up at your ex who was now sinking down into his chair;

“And by lewd behaviour, did you or did you not approach your ex’s bedroom at the hotel in the middle of the night, and continue to knock on her bedroom door whilst there was a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door?”

The lawyer attempted to talk, but yet again you cut him off;

“So therefore, you had no emotional or romantic relationship with the person whose room it was, and therefore as fully consenting adults, our employee and your ex, were perfectly within their rights to start a romantic relationship, were they not?” you took a deep breath; “And, as you have a history of making civil lawsuits against companies that you have deemed you ‘wrong’, this frivolous attempt at extortion has now been recorded, and will be submitted to the authorities”

You lifted your phone before setting it back down onto the table. You hadn’t been recording, but it was enough for your ex’s lawyer to stand and leave the room quickly, your ex scurrying close behind. Leaning to the manager you cleared your throat;

“You might want to make sure security escorts them completely offsite”

“Absolutely. Can i leave you debrief Syverson?”

“Leave it with me”

You shut the door behind him as he left, and felt the warmth of Sy’s body behind you;

“This is a very unexpected, but oh so pleasant surprise”

Turning in his arms you were thankful that there were no internal windows to this meeting room, kissing him deeply before the giant bear of a man pulled away and smiled softly at you;

“I need to buy you dinner for what you did… you’re fucking badass”

“How did you not know what the meeting was about?”

“They just told me it was ‘lewd behaviour’. I’d been wracking my mind for the last week to figure out what i may have said or done… yeah i yell at people for a living, but i’m never lewd…”

Placing your palm on his cheek you smiled at him;

“Dinner sounds good by the way”

“Come over to my place tonight, i’ll cook you dinner”

“Will there be dessert?”

Sy licked his lips, his gaze travelling down your body and back up again;

“There definitely will be for me… i’m sure i’ve got some cookies you can have too Darlin”

#captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson smut #henry cavill

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

Butterfly Wings In My Heart

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

Requested by @sapphicsarahpaulson “ “can i stay here tonight?” and “i love seeing you smile” for mina x reader? “

A/N: I’m so happy with how this piece turned out. I hope you’ll like it, too ❤️️ As always, English isn’t my mother tongue, so expect a few weird sentences. x

Word count: ~ 4 500

You leaned forward to adjust the purple fairy lights you had just hung to the ceiling, and almost lost your balance and fell off the ladder.

“Careful,” Venable called.

You glanced down at her with a grin. “It’s so nice to know you care,” you sang.

Venable’s jaw tightened as she shot you a look. “I don’t. I’m not particularly eager to have you crash down into me.”

“Then don’t stand there,” you quipped. You leaned forward again, fidgeted with the lights until you were satisfied. “I’m done anyway.”

Clumsily you climbed down the ladder and planted yourself in front of Venable. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face as you met her eyes and she glared, squinting slightly at you, her right hand clutching the knob of her cane.

“Those are so pretty don’t you think?” you said, nodding at the string of purple lights. She glanced up at it.

“Mutt and Jeff asked for red lights,” she said in that deep, cold voice of hers.

You shrugged, looked down at the floor.”Too bad. I thought you’d like these better.”

You eagerly looked at her out of the corner of your eye to gauge her reaction; nothing. You were about to roll your eyes at her when the corner of her mouth twitched and stretched into a small, fond, almost shy smile – and your heart sang with joy.

She didn’t smile a lot, Ms Venable. There were the small, incredulous smiles when someone said or did something that scared her. There were the mean, condescending smiles, like a predator baring its teeth. Those smiles no one was eager to see, for they presaged bad things. Cruel things. They weren’t really smiles at all, you thought.

But once in a while she would smile a smile that was genuine and fond. Those were as rare as seeing the moment a caterpillar turns into a butterfly. What made them even more special was, she seemed to give them to you only. Your heart had stopped beating, actually stopped beating, the first time you had seen her face soften and her eyes light up and her mouth curl up. You had felt so grateful, and so honored, to be allowed to witness such a sight. Since that day you had been starving for it.

It was so beautiful, that smile. So you decided it was your own sacred duty to find what would conjure it every single day of the rest of your life.

Stupid jokes didn’t work. They would only make Venable glare at you condescendingly. One day you asked one of your coworkers to hit you in front of her, to see if it would make her laugh, as you knew that worked with babies. Venable gave you a look as if you had gone mad – maybe you had. Infatuations tended to turn your brain into mush.

You tried to compliment her – you only got a snarky comment or a contemptuous look in return. You tried to bring her gifts, a cup of coffee she didn’t ask for, a book you loved, a lavender scarf you had spotted in a shop window and which had reminded you of her – a polite, if slightly cold, thank you.

And then one Monday morning as you told her about your weekend while she made coffee, she glanced sideways at you and here it was – here it was, the sparkle in her eyes, the curling of her lips, the fondness and the beauty and the colorful butterfly wings that made your heart flutter.

Casual conversations. Just you and her, talking about nothing in particular. Not you goofing around, not you putting a gloss on your personality to try and please her. Just you being yourself. That’s what made her smile.

You had to run to the nearest bathroom like a fool, your chest bursting with emotion. With one hand on either side of the sink you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes wide and glassy, not quite daring to believe what had just happened. You could have burst into tears. Your head and your heart were full of her.

You tried again the day after, just to make sure you had not been dreaming. You walked to her office during your lunch break, leaned against the doorway, asked her a few questions about work. She looked up from her computer and locked eyes with you. She always listened to you with attention, never cutting you off, nodding to what you said, asking you for more details. It made you feel so special, so appreciated and understood. Most people always seemed bored with you. They would start talking to someone else even though you were in the middle of a sentence, or only hum and change the subject, or never raise their eyes from their phones while they had lunch with you. You had grown used to it, accepted it, thought it was okay and normal. No one liked having to spend time with boring people.

But Venable always listened to you. She seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. And she smiled – oh, she smiled, for no reason at all. As if the mere sound of your voice was the most beautiful, the most charming thing she had ever heard. And just as she liked hearing you talk, so did you: she was smart, sharp-witted and educated. You could listen to her speak for hours.

So today when you had offered to help decorating the room for the dance, and your gaze had fallen on the purple fairy lights tangled in a cardboard box, all you’d been able to think about had been Venable, and that maybe if the universe was kind enough she would be grateful, and maybe, just maybe, she would hold your hand, or stroke your cheek.

“I appreciate your intention, Y/N,” Venable said. “But as you already know I won’t be attending the dance, so who cares if I like the decoration.”

You pursed your lips to hide your annoyance and disappointment. “Are you sure about that?” you asked, assuming a causal expression, as if you were starting a conversation about the weather.

“Sure about what?”

“Not attending the dance. It means so much to Jeff and Mutt, and it’s not every day a company turns fifteen. Besides, you’ve done so much for Kineros, you should come and enjoy the fun.”

“Idiots prancing about all night long isn’t exactly my definition of fun,” Venable retorted.

“What if I asked you to go with me? As my date?”

What on Earth had made you bold enough to ask her that, you didn’t know. But she looked so damn beautiful under the fairy lights with that fiery red hair and those eyes and those cheekbones, you couldn’t hold your words and your admiration back. But maybe you should have, because now she looked mad.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice laced with outrage.

You lowered your chin sheepishly, heat flooding your cheeks.”I mean… if you want to, of course.”

“I don’t,” she snapped.

Something in her voice, or maybe in the way her eyes widened slightly and her grip on her cane tightened, made you bold again.

“Are you sure?”you asked, taking one step towards her. She held her ground.

“I’m sure.”

You raised one hand, twisted a strand of your hair around your finger.

“Because I was thinking we could go together, and maybe dance together, and when we’re tired of all those ‘idiots’ I could drive you to my place and make you some dinner.”

Venable was glaring at you as if you had insulted her. But then, very slowly, part of her anger melted and her eyes seemed to veil over with an almost wistful look.

“Think about it,” you smiled.

Venable scoffed. “There’s nothing to think about. My decision is made.”

“Maybe so. But can you think about it?”

And before she had time to retort, you leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek, then fled the room before she could cane you.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for half an hour.” A hand, closing around your shoulder; red hair, tickling your neck. Venable leaned over your shoulder and whispered in your ear, “Do you think I hired you so you could waste your time daydreaming?”

You gulped, heat flooding your cheeks, and squirmed on your chair as your whole body tingled and suddenly came alive in her presence.

“I’m sorry, Ms Venable.” Your voice was raspy; you cleared your throat. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Venable hummed. She tapped one finger on your shoulder and blew hot air through her nose on the skin of your neck.

“You’re standing awfully close to me,” you rasped.

Venable smirked. “That’s rich, coming from someone who has no respect for personal space.”

Her fingers curled on your shoulder, nails raking the fabric of your shirt, and then she straightened and left, leaving you with your heart beating madly in your chest and heat pooling between your legs.

Before you left that day, you knocked on her office door. She looked up from her computer and smiled, before she remembered to school her features. Then she glared, and you couldn’t help but grin giddily at her.

“What do you want?” she snapped. “I’m busy.”

“I was just wondering if you had changed your mind about the dance tonight.”

She didn’t even bother to answer you and focused her attention back on her work. You waited for a few seconds, listening to the sound of her fingers tapping on the keyboard. Then you leaned against the wall and crossed your arms on your chest.

“Do you plan on going back home before it starts?” you asked. “I can pick you up at your place at 7, and then we can –“

“What part of ‘I am not coming’ does your feeble brain not understand?” Venable said, raising her head to look at you, her eyes cold and mean.

“Why not?”you retorted.

Anger flared in her eyes. “That is none of your business.”

You waited a few moments, and then said in a quiet, soothing voice, “I’d really love to dance with you.”

Her fingers froze above the keyboard. She shot you a surprised look over the rim of her glasses, and you gave her a warm smile.

Something in her face softened. It almost looked – almost – as if some of her walls had crumbled down. For a moment you saw her as she must look like in the morning, relaxed and peaceful, eyes soft, limbs heavy with sleep. Your heart swelled and fluttered with affection. But then she reached for her cane and wrapped her fingers around the knob.

“I hate dancing,” she said sharply.

“That’s fine. We can still enjoy each other’s company.”

She squinted at you, jaw tightening. “I do not enjoy your company,” she mocked, imitating your intonation.

You pretended that did not hurt. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other and tried to smile again, but it looked more like an ugly grimace. She noticed, and her expression softened.

For a long moment there was only silence. Her eyes were scrutinizing you, dark and unreadable. Just as you were about to give up and leave, she tapped her cane on the floor, making you jump. “You can meet me here at 7:30,” she said. “Be prompt.”

Your hands were sweating. Your heart was beating madly in your chest, as if it wanted to free its way out of you. You smoothed your hands over your clothes, over and over again, as you made your way towards Venable’s office. You had changed into evening wear, nothing too fancy, sprayed perfume on your wrists and neck. The corridors were buzzing with the excited voices of your coworkers, happy, carefree for a night. It almost felt like prom night.

You stopped in front of Venable’s office door, swallowed, took a deep breath for courage, and knocked. The door opened immediately, startling you.

Venable was still in her work clothes, ponytail as neat as ever, face beautiful. You couldn’t help but gaze at her in awe.

“Hello,” you muttered after a while.

Venable shot you a disdainful look. She closed the door and said, “Let’s go. I want to get it over with.”

“Always a pleasure,” you muttered. She didn’t reply.

Side by side you walked to the room where the dance was to be held. It was already crowded with people, people calling each other and waving, people gathered around the buffet, people guffawing and laughing. You spotted Mutt and Jeff in the middle of the room, faces flushed with pride. Two huge pink and yellow balloons, in the shape of a 1 and a 5, hung from the ceiling.

You scanned the crowd, excitement and joy gradually seeping into you. You had always loved parties, always loved the feeling of belonging and of freedom, the heat of bodies all around you. It made you feel strong. You started bouncing on your toes, smiling at familiar faces, laughing as one of your coworkers made a face at you on his way back from the buffet. How you loved parties.

Venable, on the contrary, had tensed up the minute she had stepped into the room. She stood tall and proud, head held high, posture impeccable, but you noticed how tightly she was gripping her cane, and caught a glimpse of the fear in her eyes. Someone brushed past her too close for comfort and she almost recoiled. She was nervous, ill at ease. Her eyes darted from one face to another as if she were expecting a slap or a jeer from anyone.

“Come on,” you said, nodding to a table in a corner. “It’ll be quieter over there.”

As you reached the table, the music started; Blondie, Heart of Glass. Mutt threw his arms up in the air and gave a happy yell. Venable shot him a contemptuous look.

“Are you hungry?” you asked her. “Sit down, I’ll go get us something to eat.”

You threaded your way through the crowd to the buffet, grabbed two plates and piled food on them. You had no idea what Venable liked, so you chose a bit of everything: vegetables, meat, rice, a thick slice of bread. One of your coworkers came up to you and made a few jokes before her partner dragged her to the dance floor in the middle of the room. You watched them wistfully for a few seconds, then made your way back to Venable, holding the plates as close to your chest as you could to avoid they be knocked over by someone’s elbow.

Venable looked even tenser than when you had left her. She was sitting very, very straight, eyes shooting daggers at no one in particular, one hand gripping her cane. You slowed down as you got close and watched her. She looked exactly like an animal, a predator, trapped in a cage surrounded by a curious crowd, baring its teeth every time someone tapped on the bars, trying to find a corner where to hide. She met your eyes, and visibly relaxed when you sat down at the table and handed her one of the plates.

Things got easier from then on. You both ate your food in-between bits of conversation. You had to bend over the table to hear each other speak over the music, heads only a few inches apart. Lights danced across Venable’s face, shadows shifting, sparkles in her eyes. At one point you laughed, and her eyes flicked to your lips and lingered there a second or two. You bit your lower lip, shot her an amused look. She picked up her glass and hid her reddening cheeks behind it as she took a few sips.

Warmth was spreading inside you. You told yourself it was the food, or maybe the music, or maybe the party. You told yourself maybe it was the combination of those three things. But then Venable brought a hand up to her ear to play with her earring as she listened to you talk, her gaze fond and intense; her lips parted in a smile that made joy fizzle in your stomach.

It was her, without a doubt.

You leaned closer and said giddily, “I love seeing you smile.”

She didn’t hear you. The music was too loud. So you said it again, almost a yell. She frowned, narrowed her eyes at you.

“It’s true,” you went on, grabbing your empty glass and pressing it against your mouth to hide behind it, just as Venable had done a few minutes before. “You have such a beautiful smile, but I guess you must hear that all the time.”

Venable opened her mouth, closed it again. There was a strange look in her eyes you could not quite identify. Her hand came up to play with her earring again, and then she raised her shoulders and jerked her head to the side like a child trying to hide the fact that they’re lying. “Thank you,” she said.”I do hear that all the time.”

A man who was waltzing drunkenly almost collided with your chair. You shoved him back into the arms of his friend, laughing. When you glanced at Venable, laughter still on your mouth, you caught a glimpse of her fond smile before she had time to compose her features. Your heart swelled. Beaming, you raised your glass, forgetting it was empty – “To Kineros’ fifteenth birthday!” – forgetting you didn’t even like the company, forgetting everything that wasn’t her.

The music changed. The quick tempo faded and was replaced by a slow melody, a piano and a violin, a deep, melancholy male voice. It soothed your heart and made it ache at the same time. All around the room couples found each other and pressed their bodies against each other and started slow dancing. You glanced sideways at Venable.

She was staring at the dancers with a sad look in her eyes, her thumb tapping distractedly on the knob of her cane. Her gaze fell on one of your coworkers’ face, happy and beaming as she twirled and twirled and laughed. Her partner wrapped one arm around her waist and dipped her. Venable’s grip on her cane tightened, knuckles turning white, and the sadness spilled from her eyes and spread across her face.

You cleared your throat to draw her attention.

“Shall we?” you said, gesturing towards the dancers.

Venable straightened her shoulders, raised her chin and shook her head. “I told you I don’t like dancing,” she said.

You hummed, studying her face. “Then why do you look so sad?”

She shot you a surprised look, eyes widening. You were expecting a mean retort, but instead she stared at the dancers again, and her lower lip trembled.

And then it finally dawned on you. The problem wasn’t that she hated dancing. The problem was that she couldn’t.

You swore you heard your heart break over the music. You had to dig your nails into your arm to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling her into a hug. For a moment you kept silent, and then as the violins swelled and the lights danced on Wilhemina’s face, you wrapped one hand around her wrist and pulled her up and towards the dance floor.

Her mouth opened in protest, but the words died in her throat when you laid one hand on the curve of her waist and used your other hand to guide hers to your shoulder. Her fingers stuttered over your skin, wide eyes meeting yours. You gave her a reassuring smile, brought your hand down and gently laced your fingers with hers around the knob of her cane.

And then you started to sway under the purple fairy lights.

Slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust, guiding her movements with your hand on her waist. Moving one foot, then the other. In rhythm with the lazy lament of the violins.

Wilhemina’s body slowly relaxed. She found her pace, her eyes never leaving yours, the lights making them glitter. You smiled, and gazed at her as her face softened with gratitude and something else that maybe, just maybe, looked like love. Her eyes lit up as she returned your smile and you swore – your heart was singing louder than the music.

You watched as the sadness melted and genuine happiness bloomed from her smile.

You pulled her closer and pressed your forehead against hers. You felt her breath hitch, saw her eyes flutter closed. So you allowed yourself to sink into her presence, sink into the music, sink into the moment.

And you prayed for the song never to end.

But it did, too soon, too abruptly. Another song started, upbeat and fierce. Wilhemina stopped moving and squared her shoulders. You took her hand, gave it a squeeze and led her back to your table.

She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t have to. The look in her eyes spoke plenty enough.

“Well then,” you said as you pulled up in front of Wilhemina’s house – small, white walls, perfectly mown lawn. You paused. You didn’t know what to add after that.

Wilhemina did not move. You glanced sideways at her, swallowing around the lump in your throat. Every nerve in your body was screaming for her to stay. Maybe you could take her on a drive, find a secluded spot, lie down in the grass and watch her as the stars slowly moved in the sky.

“That was nice,” you said after a while.

Wilhemina nodded. “Thank you for the lift,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” you smiled.

Still she did not move. Both her hands were wrapped around the knob of her cane, and she was staring straight ahead at the trees bordering the sidewalk. Her eyes shone faintly in the dark.

You cleared your throat. Your whole body was tingling with the need to touch her, to be near her, to feel her warmth again. You wondered if you would dare, if you would ever be bold enough. But you had been bold when you had invited her to the dance, and she had said yes; so you would be bold again.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” you asked.

She turned her head to look at you. A small, incredulous smile – afraid to be hurt.

“No you may n – “She cut herself off. Scrutinized your face. You waited, barely daring to breathe, your heart drumming in your ears. Wanting to be near her, now and always and forever.

“I can sleep on the couch,” you added quickly, averting your gaze. Your cheeks were starting to burn, and you were oh so grateful for the darkness.

Silence. Out of the corner of your eye you saw her reaching for the car door handle.

“I guess you can stay,” she said in an expressionless voice. “I don’t see any harm in that.”

“I have some clean pajamas you can borrow for the night,” Wilhemina said without looking at you.

“It’s okay,” you teased. “I can sleep naked.”

She shot you a look, then averted her gaze again and turned to rearrange a stack of papers on the coffee table, but you still saw it – the soft blush that bloomed in her cheeks. You sat back on the couch, grinning, and folded your hands behind your head.

“So,” you sang, “tonight wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, was it?”

She hummed. She was still pretending to rearrange the stack of papers, so you stood up and planted yourself in front of her.

“Was it?” you repeated, fighting the giddy, smug grin that tugged at your lips. She straightened her shoulders, narrowed her eyes at you. You couldn’t quite decide whether she was amused or outraged by your behavior.

“What do you want me to say?” she retorted, her voice just a little bit raspier than usual. “That you were right?”

She was so close. You took her hand, laced your fingers with hers and kissed her knuckles. Her breath hitched. You grazed your lips on her skin, never breaking eye contact.

“I’d really like to dance with you again,” you whispered.

“But there’s no music,” Wilhemina answered in a breath.

You hummed, slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “Who needs music to dance?”

She seemed to consider your words for a minute. Her eyes drifted to your lips. She inhaled shakily, then closed the space between you and pressed her chest against yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your body simultaneously tingled with life and combusted to ashes. Your eyes fell closed as you pressed your forehead against hers, just as you had at the dance, except this time it felt even more special. Maybe it was the privacy, or the silence, or how warm and firm her chest was against yours. Maybe it was the way she touched her nose to yours, or how, when she let out a breath, you felt it hot on your mouth and you had to stop yourself from capturing her lips in yours and kissing her senseless.

You didn’t even realize you had started slow dancing. You were too focused on her and on the way her body felt against yours to notice anything else. You wrapped both arms around her waist and held her tight, fingers digging into the fat on her hips. A moment passed, and then she, almost angrily, pushed her pelvis against yours.

You stopped breathing entirely.

Every inch of you was burning. She had set you on fire, and you were melting, melting into her, core aching, head buzzing. So then you did the only thing that felt right. You tilted your head, crashed your mouth against hers and devoured her.

She whimpered, brought a hand up to your cheek, pressed herself even closer into you. You were pretty sure by now your insides had turned into molten lava. Her hand slid up to tangle in your hair, and you heard a clang as her cane fell to the ground, felt her other hand press on the small of your back, grip the fabric of your garment, boldly slide down to knead your ass.

“God, Wilhemina,” you whined into her mouth. She was going to be the end of you. She had cast a spell on you and now you’d die if you had to spend a single second away from her. You felt her smile, that beautiful, bewitching smile of hers that had started it all – and suddenly you needed to see it again, so you pulled away, eliciting an angry groan from her. You put one hand on her shoulder to hold her back.

She was breathing hard, cheeks flushed and lipstick smeared, eyes so dark and so predatory it sent shivers down your spine. You ran your thumb over her mouth, giggled when she nipped it. Her lips twitched, and your eyes widened in expectation, heart racing, heart singing – and then she smiled, that smile that softened her face and made her eyes light up, that smile she only ever smiled for you.

#ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #fics

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ethan-torchio-angelo · 3 years

Text

Isn't It Lovely

Summary: two girls in a town where if anyone knew of their feelings towards each other, they'd be locked away

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: sadness, angst, a love that feels illegal, a few swear words

A/N: so I was in my feels. You're welcome for this sad little bit

2 a.m.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words tumble from her mouth before she can even think to stop them. When she gets no reply she fears she’s messed up, ruined the night like she’s done so many times before. A hand touches her cheek, her head moving to face the girl laying beside her, and she’s met with a warm smile that calms all of her nerves.

“My mind constantly races with thoughts of you.”

It’s whispered so quietly, afraid the loudness of a confession like that could break their peaceful bubble right apart. There is a fire that burns in both their veins, fueled by words unspoken, words that feel illegal to even think. They can’t say what they really want to. In this small little corner of the world, the words I love you seem like a death sentence if anyone hears them coming from the two girls. So it stays between them and the three boys that are more their family than anyone else.

They’re laying on the roof of Victoria's trailer, it is dark and quiet, the stars being their only company. There’s a bottle of Damianos moonshine and a pack of cigarettes stolen from the corner shop being split between them. The closest thing they can get to a real date.

“One day, we’ll leave this place behind. I’ll take you to the ocean and we’ll get married, right then and there. And the best part is, no one can stop us.”

Victoria is always the optimistic one, always telling her of the things that seem impossible. “What about the boys? Lord knows they’d be lost without us.”

She sits up to face the girl, a goofy grin on her face, “Well, they’ll come with us of course! We’ll need someone to protect us from the scary sea monsters.”

She laughs, sitting up now too, and takes a swig of the bitter alcohol. She loves how Vic talks about the life they could have. It’s nice to dream, she thinks.

The wind picks up suddenly, a cold breeze floating through the space around them, and they’re reminded of the quickly changing seasons. Victoria shivers and she’s quick to wrap the girl beside her in one of the blankets. The summer had been short and autumn was quickly approaching, a reminder that this could be the last few hours they’d have together.

Victoria had gotten accepted to Julliard on a full scholarship, something she’d applied to on a whim with no real hopes of getting in. She’d be gone in the morning, off to live the dream she’d always wanted. While the other girl still had no idea of what she wanted from life, no connections anywhere, she’d most likely be stuck here working at the corner shop for the rest of her life.

Victoria huddled into the warmth of the blanket and took a long drag from one of the cigarettes. She could feel eyes on her, turning her head to look at the girl beside her, “What’re you staring at, pretty girl?”

The girl blushes, caught in the act of trying to commit her face to memory. “You. Trying to make sure I never forget what you look like.”

Victoria sighs, “I don’t have to leave, ya know. I could stay here, with you and the boys. We could be trailer park trash together.”

“No. You’re going to go off to New York and live the life you’ve been dreaming of, don’t worry about me.”

She takes another swig of the burning liquid, trying to drink away her sorrows. They’ve talked about it before, Vic staying here, but she’s always refused the offer. She knows it’d make her miserable and she can’t bear to be the reason why her love is sad.

“Then come with me. We could get a little apartment, you can find a job while I’m at school. We could be free.”

She’s got a line of tears pooling in her eyes, a flush covering her cheeks, and the alcohol is running rampid in her veins. She can’t help but hope, wanting nothing more than to have the one thing she knows she can’t.

“I can’t come with you Vic, you know that. I’ve got nothing going for me, I’d only keep you from doing what you want. I can’t do that to you, it’d break my heart.”

Another sigh leaves the girl. She dreams too much, she knows that, but is it so awful to want to be happy? “Do you love me?”

It’s a question that strikes her right in the heart. “You know I do.”

“No, I don’t. You’ve never said it, and you only act like you do when we’re alone. I’m the one who always says it, but I’ve never heard those words leave your lips.”

There’s a fire burning through her. She wishes she could blame it on the alcohol, but the question has been haunting her for weeks now, it was just a matter of time before they were brought to light.

“You know what it would mean if anyone heard us say it.”

Vic stands up abruptly, throwing the blanket from her body and pacing the length of the rooftop. “I don’t give a damn about anything but you! I love you, and I don’t care who knows it! They can burn me at the stake for all I care, I just want you.”

There are tears running down her cheeks now and she feels like her body is on fire. Her next words are barely above a whisper, but the girl hears them loud and clear, “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

She stands and walks over to Vic, reaching out to grab her, pulling her into her arms. She rubs circles into her back as she freely cries. Victoria gasps for air, feeling like she’s drowning. “Am I not enough for you? Am I not good enough?”

“No, no. That’s not it,” She takes a deep breath before pulling away to look into her eyes, “I love you. There’s no doubt about it.”

“Then what is it? Why does everything have to be a struggle with you? I feel like I’m trying to convince you of something I’m not even sure is worth fighting for anymore.”

She’s taken aback by the confession. “You don’t mean that Vic.”

“Maybe I do. Clearly you don’t know me that well if you don’t think I’d give up everything to be with you!”

She’s shouting and pacing again, and she knows someone could hear her, but she doesn’t care. She’d climb the tallest building and declare her love for the girl if it meant she could convince her. “Is it really so horrible to think that we could get away from all of this and be together?”

“You know we can’t.”

She stops her pacing, turning to stare at the other girl. “You’re the only one saying that. There is nothing keeping you here, nothing. But yet you keep saying you can’t leave. What is so important that it’s keeping you from being happy?”

Everything falls silent, and moments pass before she can bring herself to speak. She starts crying and it takes everything in her to speak her next words, “I’m pregnant.”

The words hang in the air like a knife over their heads. Victoria feels like all of the air has been sucked from her lungs. “How? Who?”

“At the graduation party Thomas threw. We’d been fighting, and I saw you hanging with another girl and I got jealous. I needed something to distract me so I got drunk and when he kissed me I didn’t even think of pushing him away. I don’t even remember his name, I don’t think he even told me. I regretted it the second it was over. We used a condom and I took plan b, but it clearly didn’t work. I found out last week, Dami drove me into the city. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

It is silent for what feels like hours. The wind whips around them, a storm forming overhead. They stand facing each other, staring into the other's eyes.

It’s Victoria who breaks the silence, a laugh escaping her lips. It is loud and ugly, strained by the tears still falling from her eyes. It’s not the time to laugh, but she can’t help it. “I hate you. Not because you’re pregnant, because if you had just told me we could have gone through this together. But because you’re choosing to subject it to the same life we were so desperate to escape. You could leave with me and we could raise that kid in a life far better than either of us had, but you’re a coward.”

The words feel like venom on her tongue. She can see the hurt cross the girl's face, a feeling of guilt settling in her gut, but she can’t take the words back now.

“Maybe I am. But that is my choice to make.”

Victoria turns away, heading to the ladder, whispering words that hurt them both, “Then It is your choice to make alone.”

Sometimes the hardest thing in life is loving someone and letting them go.

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the-shiftshop · 3 years

Text

One Touch - Part 2

Inspired by @dark-limbo. Might want to check this blog out!

TO VOTE FOR THE POLL FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER, CLICK HERE

Today is the day I’ll be free to do whatever I want without thinking about anything else. Mom had allowed me to rest out of town all by myself for a week. Dad had lend me allowance which I can spent on what I had planned for.

Upon arriving to a beach resort, which was like 5 hours away from my hometown, I was feeling a little nervous. Technically, this has been my first vacation alone, away from anyone I know. Having the ability to hypnotize anyone doesn’t come with less worry about what dangers there would be. I may be confident to get anyone I want, I’m still scared that I might get in trouble with things and I wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

Trying to loose up, I just took a deep breath and decided to look around the lobby.

Looking over to the seats to the right near the windows, I’ve noticed this guy staring at me. He looked away after realizing I’m staring back but I know we had eye contact. He had his chest muscles peaking through his shirt and I can’t make myself look away. This guy’s interesting. I’ll come back to him later. But for now, let me drop my things to my room.

After reaching my room on the third floor of the hotel, I had to quickly drop my things and lie down on the bed. To be honest, choosing somewhere far to test my powers is not that important, but I had to make sure I’ll be going somewhere nobody I know lives, and somewhere I can enjoy at the same time. This is just to save from all the trouble of failing and letting everyone I am acquainted with know that I can hypnotize anyone I want.

Lying down the bed, I took a rest for a while. I started thinking of all the possibilities I can do here. Meeting all the men I might find attractive, pulling them in, and finally making them do what I please. All these thoughts are already making me hard, but I might need to save this up for later.

After lying down for a few minutes, only to be more frustrated because of my hard on, I decided to go out for a while and explore the resort.

Just as soon as I walk out to the back of the hotel, there I saw him again, dipping down into the pool. As soon as he descend down, I noticed that he was staring at me once more.

As I stare back at him, I notice him smile and look away. That’s already a hint, or if ever that I’m assuming things, I can always fix things up. Nevertheless, I’m nervous but excited at the same time. My own fun is about to start!

I walked near him as he keep his shoulders under the water.

“Andrei” He said.

“Nice to meet you.” I replied.

“So, you alone?”

He’s already asking if I went here alone. That’s already a big assurance he’s hitting on me.

“Yeah.” I answered.

“I actually saw you come in the resort, and you seem like you’re that type who never had been on vacation without their parents. Is it your first time around here?”

“Damn, you’re great at guessing.” I smiled. “Yup. It’s my first time here. I might need a little bit of company.” I looked at him, hoping he would get me.

“I’m actually with a few friends.” He replied, sounding a little more solemn, “But it wont hurt if I could help you explore around for a few hours.”

His eyes sparked up and it felt like mine too as we stare at each other. I chuckled and squat down in order to be much closer to him. I don’t want to play these mind games anymore, I want to go straight to the point.

“Or we can explore each other in my room.” I teased.

I was expecting him to brighten up more, but it seems like my assumptions were wrong. He furrowed his brows and stared at me, but this time, his eyes were of a different gaze.

“Ah. Sorry man, I don’t swing that way.” His tone of voice changed, slightly sounding disgusted. “I... I just thought that you might’ve need some help since you seemed lost.”

I knew it would turn out this way. Getting fooled by the nice guys. Even my face somewhat contorted to dismay. “I- I’m sorry, man.”

“Sorry, but, just leave.” He began to get out of the pool. I don’t want to cause a fight right now, especially when I just started my vacation. I should act quick.

“No, I mean, sorry. I didn’t mean to. I can still use a bit of-”

“Dude, get out of the way!” He tried to move me away but before I could even back off, my hands found their way to his arms.

Here he was now, in trance of my touch. I fell his shoulders rise as he take a deep breath in, keeping eye contact with me. He wasn’t moving, just frozen in place. I look around to see if anyone is watching. Lucky enough, we’re alone.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No. I’m mad.” He answered. Monotonous, but you can hear how natural he speaks even under my control.

“No. You’re not mad. You’re happy.” I said.

“Oh. Yeah! I am happy!” He chuckled.

“You’re happy because you finally get to know me, you’ve been longing for me.” I whispered in his ear.

“I’ve been... wanting to know you...”

“Don’t speak a word. Dry off and change your clothes here. After that, follow me to my room.” I commanded.

It was a firm command. He didn’t speak at all. He proceeded to climb up the pool ladder and went to his things. He got his towel and his clothes to change into. He was under my control. He didn’t mind changing his clothes in public. He first took everything off, giving me a clear view of all of him from his muscular back. I want to touch him again right now, but I just let him change his clothes first. He wore his white tank top and his spare red short. Putting all of his things back into his bag, he hanged it over his shoulder and wore his flipflops.

I nodded and started walking back to my room. He followed.

Walking through the hallways was unintentionally nerve-wrecking. The fear that he might look like he’s in trace and other people might get weirded out, or that someone will call his name and since he’s under my command, he can’t talk, but luckily, we have arrived to my room.

I didn’t waste anymore time. I pushed him on the bed and started touching every skin I could. Exploring his whole body while he’s left frozen and unable to talk. I moved a hand to his crotch and gripped on his balls through his shorts. He wasn’t reacting whatsoever, but it took just one command.

“Match with me.”

With that, his hands moved up my back as I hear him give me soft but satisfied moans. I pushed my lips to his and forced my tongue in, which became much easier as he opened his mouth for me. My knee moved up the bed to his crotch as I massage him there with it. Both of my hands slowly took his tank top off, over his shoulders and off his head. He did the same, taking my shirt off. I pulled his face near my chest and he gladly sucked on my nipples.

“A-Ah...” The feeling was sending shivers all over my body. I want more than this. “Suck me off. Make me feel better.”

His hands moved down to my shorts as he try to pull it down. I stood up and let him take it off me. After finally exposing my raging hard on, I moved up the bed, with his legs in between mine, almost as if I can sit down on his lap. He continued kissing my chest, moving down to lick my abs, then finally to my cock. He proceeded putting all of my shaft into my mouth. He pull me closer as he lie down on the bed, my hands supporting myself on the bed while he’s under me, bobbing his head. I thrusted my hips slowly into his mouth. Everything feels so good. I can almost feel myself near my release. He flipped me over, now I am the only lying on the bed while he tries to get rid of his shorts. He pull my leg and aligned my hole to his shaft.

“No!” I exclaimed. “Not yet. I’m not ready.” I said. “I’ll be the one penetrating you.”

He smiled and dropped my legs down. He then moved to my cock, this time him aligning his hole to my shaft. He gave me a long painful grunt as he push himself down to my cock, then back up. I can’t endure seeing his face contort because of the amount of pain he’s having right now, but at the same time I find his hot.

He fell close to my chest, still my cock in his hole. We rolled over so this time I’m above him once more. He had put his arms around me as I thrust my hard on into him, slowly at first, but it wasn’t long until I quickened my pace. I muffled his moans as I pull him for one more kiss. My hand on his nipple while the other is stroking his cock that had been begging for attention.

I broke out kiss as I feel myself nearing climax “Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna!” I screamed. I thrusted much faster than before until I pull out and came all over his body, spewing all my hot juice all over his muscles. We were left panting on the bed. Andrei, though, still was hard as ever. I still have not managed to make him cum yet so I decided to move back down to suck him off.

Not being able to say words, he keeps moaning and moaning as I explore his cock with my tongue. Bobbing up and down while my tongue pushing on his skin made me realize this might be giving him a lot of pleasure. His hands moved to my hair as he push me more, violently.

Soon, he screamed as he came into my mouth. I gladly swallowed all of it. He came too much though that some of them leaked out of my lips.

I finally pulled his cock out and stared at him while we both pant. For one last time, I moved near him, kissed him and hugged him as we rest.

Later this afternoon, I might need to release him back to his own control, but right now, I’ll just enjoy the skinship while it lasts.

--------------

Thank you everyone stopping by. If the poll does not appear below, click on the link to lead you to the poll website!

https://www.opinionstage.com/theshiftshop/who-should-appear-next2

#mind control #One Touch

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amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 20: Desperation

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: violence, sex, (they do things in semi-public so voyeurism sort of???) lemme know if anything else needs to be tagged please!!

SUMMARY: He pats your cheeks and you look up at him, letting him tuck rogue hair behind your ears. “That was way too close, Nova,” Din hisses, pressing the cold metal of the visor against your forehead. “Way too fucking close.”

“I survived, didn’t I?” you ask, and you’re not trying to question him, but it comes out that way, loose and aggressive. “You—you got away. We got the bounties and we got away, Gideon didn’t touch me—”

“He got pretty damn close,” Din snarls, barreling over you. “Too close. I’m never putting you that close to danger again.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY MY LOVES!!! this chapter is dedicated to all of you, thank you SO much for sticking it out for the two week wait while i put my full energy into finals!! i hope that you love this one; it's full of action and angst (and sex)! i am all finished with all my finals now, so i should be able to get chapter 21 up next weekend, Saturday the 15th, but it's the day before i graduate so i'll keep everyone updated on here and tiktok (padmeamydala)!!!

HOPE YOU ENJOYYYYYYYYY!!! <3

You’ve always known Din’s eyes were warm, soulful, filled with life beyond the opaqueness of the visor, and you’ve always yearned for a glimpse for them. To see the way he looks at you, how hungry his gaze is, how full of light, how quiet yet radiant they were. Not anymore. You’d trade it all to go back five seconds in time, to stop lifting the stupid metal ball in the air with your mind. To never see the look of betrayal that’s locked on you like a laser beam, horrified and dark.

The ball drops to the floor. It sounds so much louder than it actually is, and the squeaks that come out of your mouth along with the clatter are almost deafening. “I—”

“You’re—you can use the Force?” Din asks, expressive brows scrunched together in confusion, his eyes fluttering between you, the baby, and the ball the two of you can move with thought alone. Your heart is tangled up in your throat.

“I didn’t know—” you say, breath shallow, heart hammering something horrible in your chest, “that’s what it was—I—I swear, Din, I justdid this for the f—first time, I didn’t know—” you swallow, the feeling of it thick and immovable in your throat. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t keeping it from you, I just found out I could even do this—”

“The blaster,” he interrupts, and the hands that you’re emphasizing your poorly delivered point with fall limp at your sides. “On Coruscant. That’s how it flew out of Xi’an’s hands.”

You wince. “Yes. But—”

“You’ve known for days?” he asks, voice funny in disbelief. Maker, you feel your heart breaking in your chest. “Why—why didn’t you tell me, Nova?”

There are tears now, forming hot and heavy at the corners of your eyes. “Danger. I’m dangerous. The baby,” you say, swinging your shaking pointer finger to his little green body, trying not to focus on how big and scared his eyes are, “the baby—he’s being hunted by everyone who knows about him. T—there aren’t Jedi left, and something the baby has makes him—” you swallow, trying to wet the tip of your tongue, “—a target. Vulnerable. And that means someone is always chasing after you. I didn’t know that what I could do—and feel—was because of the Force, I just thought I could—do strange things, and once I figured out the other day that I could use it…I’m a target too. I’m a liability. I’m—I’m putting you in danger if I use it.”

He’s still staring at you, completely bewildered. You can feel how large the ache is inside your chest.

“Din,” you start, and he shakes his head at you. You swallow, eyes roving down his body, over the pockmarks and lines of scars you’ve sewn back up, the flesh that he’s only ever let you see, and you can’t help the tears from falling now.

“You’re a target,” Din interrupts, voice faraway and strangled.

“If I use it,” you whisper, “if anyone c—can sense it, they’d probably want me, too.”

“You lied to me,” he says, and you blink at the accusation. Not only because it came from his bare mouth, but because it’s true. You’re not even sure what you lied about, but you know the weight of it, how affronted he sounds, how he’s made it a point to never lie to you, and how much truth means to him.

“I—” you start again, desperate, teary-eyed, and then the bounty puck he has strapped against his armor, strewn across the floor of the Crest, starts blinking, furious and red.

Before you can say anything else, Din’s redressing, pulling clothes from where they landed and snapping the beskar into place. He gives you one more look, betrayed and dark, before he roughly pulls the helmet back over his head, climbing the ladder. You exchange teary looks with the baby, and then you pull him to your chest, feeling his warmth radiate against your skin as you hoist the both of you up through the hole in the floor, trying to squash your tears from where they’re still falling from your eyes. Wordlessly, you sink into the copilot’s seat, running your shaky fingers over the peach fuzz on the baby’s little green head, trying to soothe yourself more than you’re trying to soothe him.

Your eyes feel like the galaxy’s worst reflecting pool as you watch the back of Din’s helmet, the beskar dark and impenetrable as he navigates out of Yavin’s starry atmosphere, shooting the Crest into the crush of space. The quiet beeping on the dashboard is the only noise for what feels like lifetimes, and you bite down hard on your lip as he pushes the ship into warp, and you close your eyes against the hurtling blue around you.

It’s quiet again. You don’t know how to fill it in a way that won’t make the situation worse, so you just worry your hand over the baby’s head and try not to make a sound. Finally, the ship pulls out of warp, and you see the scarred atmosphere of a planet, radiating a ring of blue around red and tan notches. You’ve never been here. It looks alien. Silently, Din navigates the ship down onto the surface, and you try to modulate your breathing, try to let the air hang in the way he clearly wants it. You haven’t seen him so stoic since you first boarded the Razor Crest, what feels like a lifetime ago. You can still see the outline of his face every time you close your eyes—his beautiful brown eyes, the shape of his nose, the softness of his lips—and then, in every reimagining, it morphs into betrayal.

When he lands, Din stays sitting in the pilot’s chair for so long that you think he won’t ever move again. Shallowly, your breath catches in your throat when the bounty puck starts blinking, and, abruptly, he rises up. He towers over you. Even when you’re standing with your body pressed up against yours, he completely eclipses you.

“You’re Force sensitive?” he asks, and his voice, modulated and quiet, is completely flat.

You nod, swallowing before you can answer. “Yes.”

Din’s staring at you, still, under the helmet. “Good,” he says, “that makes it easy.” He’s down the ladder before you can even process what he’s said, eyebrows furrowed down the middle of your forehead.

“W—what?” you say, gently placing the baby in his cradle, trying to climb down as fast as you can, before Din disappears with absolutely zero context. “Makes what easy?” you say, voice almost completely gone, heart pounding something dangerous and horrible inside your chest.

The puck starts blinking again. Furiously. You look at it, and back up at Din, seeing how incessantly it reflects in his visor, how obscured he is from you.

“I have to go,” he says, and his tone is still so flat, so detached from where he’s standing, close enough to feel the heat radiating off your body.

“O—okay,” you manage, completely and utterly confused. Before you can react, Din steps in closer, reaches a gloved hand around to the small of your back to anchor you against the beskar. Before you can react, before you can apologize, before you can do anything, he presses the metal of the helmet up against your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed, trying to savor every single millisecond that Din spends embracing you, and when he wrenches himself away, it’s far too soon.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises, and you watch, wordless, as the gangplank descends.

You watch him walk away, disappear into the haze, every shiny inch of his body gone. “Be safe,” you manage, finally, before you let yourself cry again.

It’s been hours. Maybe. It could be a handful of minutes, or a collection of days, and you wouldn’t know. You’re alone and listless against the wall of the Crest, the same one you’ve frequented whenever Din leaves and the same one you’ve shared when he comes back. It feels like it’s been full moon cycles that you’ve cried out, the way that your heart aches in your chest. Like something rotten, like a festered wound.

You made the wrong choice. You know it by the way the guilt aches and hangs over you, a dark storm cloud. You should have told Din the truth from the second you realized that all your intuition was something more than just knowledge and empathy. When you first started seeing the visions. Okay, maybe not the one in the cave on Dagobah, because that was clearly the planet’s doing, that wicked gnarltree, but the ones after. When you protected him from Xi’an, when you fell into the baby’s vision back on Balnab. Maybe that’s why the bounties—and the subsequent stormtroopers—found you so easily. Maybe you were an amplifier, and maybe you have been this whole time, putting Din and the baby in danger before you even realized what sick power you hold.

The baby toddles over to you a few times, his eyes big and expressive. You let him settle in on your lap, rub your fingers over his fuzzy head, but everything inside you is dark and heavy and exhausted. You sit in silence, hallucinating that your commlink is beeping on your wrist, hallucinating that Din’s voice comes through the darkness to pull you out of it. You just sit and let yourself fester, marinate in all the ache, for what feels like forever. Eventually, the Crest gets even darker, and you know that wherever you are, whatever planet Din’s landed the ship on, it’s nightfall. You hate how empty and eternal the Crest is when he leaves, and this time, it just feels like an unrelenting blackness that you’ve been forced to surrender to.

Eventually, you let yourself sit back up against the wall instead of your melodramatic slump on the Crest’s floor, and, later still, you make your way over to the small pantry where the stockpile of food has been dwindling. There’s not much freshness left, so you eat up the small handfuls of fruit and vegetables teetering on the line of spoiling and pour one of the larger broth packets into the bowl for the baby. He laps it up twice as fast as you’re able to digest all your food, and you push some small red berries towards him, encouraging him to eat something that isn’t just thin soup. When you both finish, you slog yourself towards the fresher, washing out the remnants from your bowls and utensils. Your reflection is an even sorrier state than you imagined—the corners of your eyes are laden with the crustiness of old tears, your cheeks are sunken and inflamed from crying, your hair a mess in your face.

“Get it together,” you whisper, and when even your voice comes up broken, you sigh noisily. The water in the faucet doesn’t come out strong enough for your liking, but it’s cold enough to splash the remnants of your afternoon spent sobbing off your face. When you finish, you just want to sleep—you’re tired and your head is pulsing—but the baby is still wide awake, giant expressive eyes filled with all of the emotion you’ve been trying to purge and avoid.

“I’m okay, bug,” you say, your voice still coming out weakened, the syllables splitting in half. “Can we sleep, please?”

He shakes his head. You sigh, compromising by sinking down to the floor so you’re as close enough to eye level as you’re going to get.

“Baby,” you reiterate, “I am literally begging you. Let’s just sleep until your daddy comes back, huh?”

He blinks at you with those giant, sentient eyes like he suddenly can’t understand a single damn word you’re saying. It’s impressive, really, how stubborn he can be when he wants to. It’s a mystery where he picked that one up. Certainly, it couldn’t have been from his shiny father, man of few words and fewer agreements. You squint at him. He squints back.

“What do you want?” you ask, eyes roaming over the floor for his metal ball. He perks up when you roll it towards him, watching as it levitates from the floor to the air between the two of you as his tiny green hand rises. You don’t know how long he suspends it there before he looks over at you, and you shake your head. “No. I’m not using it again.”

The baby makes a noise, and you sigh, throwing your head back. You’re not setting a very good example—you’re being stubborn and tense and short-tempered, and you know how easily the kid picks up and embodies mannerisms of the people around him—but you’re exhausted, and you’re half-heartbroken, and your fiancé just found out you were keeping the biggest secret in the galaxy from him, and now he’s out there searching for a bounty on this unfamiliar wasteland of a planet.

“I can’t use it again,” you repeat, gentler, “it puts you and your dad in danger, bug, I—I’m not going to be the reason to do that.”

He looks up at you, ears down in sorrow, big eyes wide and filled with the same tears you feel building in yours again. His little green hand, still outstretched, flaps just the tiniest bit, and you reach out your own to meet him in the middle. You don’t know what else to say or how else to say it, but you’re so exhausted. When he steps closer, and his hand slips out of yours, you don’t have the foresight to stop him. His palm presses directly up against your forehead, and, for once, you don’t fight it. You let the vision come.

It’s dark. Darker than it was before, the entire planet clouded and shrouded by deep, impenetrable fog. You can hear the cries of people around you, but you can’t see farther than a few inches. Somewhere, you can hear—or feel, or sense—the pulse and whine of those white lightsabers, and you know that shrouded figure who wields them is somewhere in the fog. When you turn to find the source, the vision shifts. You see Din with his beskar staff, fighting with the same woman you saw in your last one, and you’re on the ground, writhing and desperate to get to him. And then, as you roll over to get up, the vision shifts once more. It isn’t Din and his spear, you’re on a vessel that looks too closely like an Imperial cruiser. Your heart catches in your throat as the image in front of you takes shape. It’s not Din. It’s Moff Gideon, tall, enshrouded, and dangerous. He pulls something out, a weapon, and you throw both hands up over your head in a sad attempt to protect yourself, but before you can shield your eyes, you see the blade ignite. It’s not a lightsaber. It’s in the same family, maybe, but it’s pulsating and wicked, the outline shifting and crackling with stark black electricity. You gasp, skittering backward, and when your hand meets something that isn’t the cool metal of the ship’s interior, you see the baby, scared and handcuffed, and before you can protect him, the beskar of Din’s spear appears out of absolutely nowhere and clashes against Gideon’s blade, and then the vision is over.

“Hey,” you say, voice shaky, opening your eyes to the familiarity of the Crest, close enough to your makeshift bed to grab blankets and pull them over your lap. You’re freezing, suddenly, heart hammering in your chest. “Hey, baby—what was that? W—why do you keep showing me that? Are you in danger? Are wein danger?”

He just stares at you, eyes wide and scared. You try to coax your heartbeat back to a resting pulse rate, and then you gather his little green body up in your arms, pressing his head against your chest. You’re still breathing heavily, and you can feel how hard he’s wheezing, his breath hot and scared in your ear. You pull him closer.

“Bug,” you say, again, trying for both his sake and yours to keep your voice level, “is that a premonition? Is—is that going to happen?”

You can’t hear him, can’t see him shake his head, but you know he’s answering you. Yes.

“How soon?” you ask, trying not to convey anything anxious and terrified to him—through your mind, through the Force, however you’re communicating with him right now. “Is it on this planet?”

No. It’s not. You know, somehow, that it’s not.

“How c—how can I make sure that you don’t get separated from us, sweetness?”

Nothing. There’s nothing. You even pull his face away from where it’s buried in your collarbone to try to understand, to search for the answers that had so easily been in your head beforehand, but he looks just as confused and scared as you feel. You sigh, letting him nuzzle up against you again, trying your hardest to not ruminate on the fact that you’re in danger, hard, unavoidable danger, that everything you’ve seen over the past few months, everything you’ve been terrified of—is almost tangible, almost close enough to touch.

Your wrist blinks, and it’s so startling in the darkness that you audibly gasp. It startles the baby, too, before he leans back, sleepy and quiet against your shoulder. You’re not sure how long that you’ve been out—if you’ve even slept at all, because everything in your chest is still heavy and full of grief.

“Hello?” you whisper into the darkness of the hull, pulse quickening when you remember Din’s the one on the end of the line.

“It’s me,” he says, low and quiet, and for some reason, that makes everything in you return back to normal.

“I know,” you answer, your lips contorting into half of a smile. “Are you okay?”

He’s quiet, for a second, and you sit in silence, even though it still feels so loud. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“What time is it?” you yawn, rubbing at your left eye with the heel of your hand. “How long have you been gone?”

“Dark,” Din answers, and you don’t have the energy to argue with him that’s not a real time, and you just smile against his voice again. “I’ve been away for six or seven hours.”

“When are you coming back?” you ask, and the question sits heavy like it used to, before you knew you loved each other. Before you knew he wanted to marry you. Before he knew you had the Force.

“As soon as I can, cyar’ika,” he mumbles, and for some reason, that makes tears well up in your eyes again. “Go to sleep.”

“Is it even night?” you yawn again, settling back into the nest you’ve made for you and the baby in all the blankets on the floor. “Like—is the sun up on this planet? Or is it…um…dark?”

“Did you just—need to ask if it was dark to describe night?” Din asks, and, Maker, there’s relief flooding through you at the shape of his smile.

“I said night first,” you insist, but you’re already so cozy huddled back up on the floor, and the baby’s wheezing out of his nose, and it may or may not be nighttime, and Din’s voice is in your ear. And he’s not betrayed right now. His eyes are probably crinkled up inside the helmet as he laughs, his mouth pink and open. You pull the pillow closer under your head, the baby shifting against your chest. “Din? Din. I said night first. I need you to know that I asked if it was night first. Okay?”

“Night first,” Din echoes, sighing as he settles in against whatever corner of the planet he’s on. “I got it, Nova. Go to sleep.”

“Is it night?” you yawn, and night doesn’t even sound like a word anymore. You don’t think that any of the syllables feel correct in your mouth, but you’re half asleep with Din’s voice up against your ear, and you don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world that you cannot understand the full context of nighttime. “You know, out on the planet?”

“No,” Din says, and you blink yourself awake. “Technically, it’s early morning.”

“Formality,” you whisper, sinking back down into the sweet, warm embrace of your blankets, “technicality. That’s a technicality, Din. It’s nighttime. Sleep time. Do you understand?”

“Mandalorians don’t adhere to nighttime being sleep time,” Din argues, and your heart is doing cartwheels with how light his voice is, how easily he’s talking, how he doesn’t sound betrayed anymore. It’s like the first time he’d left when the two of you first got together—warm, happy, new.

“You lie,” you yawn, curling up, close to the baby. “Mandalorians do. Bounty hunters don’t.”

“Hard to tell,” Din counters, “I’m both.”

“Go sleepy,” you say, which isn’t even a real sentence, and you hear him laugh against the commlink, and then you’ve faded off into dreamland.

When you wake up, your comm is blinking. You startle, kicking the blanket up from where it’s tucked around your feet, heart hammering loud and intense. “Yeah?” you squeak into it, voice rough around the edges with sleep, trying to coax your heartbeat back to its normal rhythm.

“Are you awake?”

“Am now,” you say, grabbing the baby up and placing him in this cradle so you don’t scramble over him in the darkness. “Wh—do you need me to pick you up?”

“No,” Din says, “I’m outside.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’m outside,” he repeats, and you look around in complete bewilderment, trying to reconcile the image of him outside of the Crest and the sound of him in your ear. “Open the airlocks.”

“You have your heat signature,” you say, stumbling over to where the control panel is, “can’t you unlock it by your sheer—hotness alone?”

“Hotness,” Din repeats, flat.

“I’m allowed to call you hot,” you say, affronted, before you realize that he means that you said the wrong conjugation of the word. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Din says, and then the gangplank lowers, and you’re staring at him. He’s tall and he’s so shiny, shimmering in the atmosphere of the planet, and all you want to do is run into his arms.

“Bounty?”

“Not caught,” Din confirms, and you walk a few steps forward until you can touch him. “I have eyes on him, but he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

You look up at him, confused, still blinking around the sleep that’s still in the corners of your eyes. Din’s arm wraps around you, pulls you into the beskar, and you let out a breath, content. “What…do you mean, exactly?”

“He’s at an inn,” Din says, and starts leading you outside of the ship. “Come on.”

“Din,” you counter, looking back and forth to the planet’s surface to the dark interior of the Crest, “I am really not understanding what you mean.”

Din sighs, low and easy, and stops halfway down the gangplank. “His girlfriend showed up. I saw them get a room at an inn in town, and I put a direct tracker on his bag as I walked by him. He’s going to be in there for at least an hour. I know where he is. I know where he’s going. I want to show you something. Come on.”

You stare at him, eyebrow still furrowed. “You’re not—grabbing the bounty because…because he’s having sex?”

“His crime wasn’t horrible. Figured I’d give him an hour,” Din shrugs, and you blink at him, completely blank. “What?”

“You have gone soft, Mandalorian,” you say, looking up at him, letting his hand fall into yours, the yellow pads of his gloved thumbs grazing over the gaps in your fingers. “You’re giving up a bounty so he can get it on? Are you the same man who froze the one you struck a deal with back in the Mid Rim just because you wanted to fuck me?”

“I’d want every last second with you,” Din says, and everything in your melts. His head is cocked at you, and your stomach does somersaults with how you know he’s looking at you under there.

“Oh,” you manage, and then he starts moving, and the shimmering horizon of a small city appears before you. You’re distracted by its glitter—just a bit, but its enough to keep your attention—and you keep moving, wordless, stumbling through the ground’s terrain. “What are we doing here?” you whisper, watching as the people you pass keep their gaze trained on the both of you—the shiny Mandalorian, and the girl walking twice as fast trying to keep up with his long strides.

“Clothes,” Din says, and you’re still not awake enough to understand what he means. “The ones that I promised you four planets ago.”

“Oh,” you echo again, and then your eyes travel down to what you’re wearing, and you nod. Everything starts clicking into place. Why you’re here, why he returned to the Crest to pick you up, why he let the man he’s hunting down have a quickie in this inn with his girlfriend. Din’s showing you the thing he promised you when he proposed—he’d drop it—all of it, the bounties, the hunt, the armor—for you. You swallow around tears again, before you even realize they’re there.

Slowly, the town comes into view. The planet’s atmosphere is similar to Tatooine’s, hot and sandy, and everything that juts up from the terrain looks like a mirage until you’re on top of it. The people here, varied in size and species, are loud and dynamic, and you have to sidestep speeders and whatever’s being sold out on the street, just trying to keep and match Din’s pace. He’s so good at it, even on the sandy planets he hates. Maybe it’s the beskar, maybe it’s just that his shoes hold up against the hot terrain more than your old boots do, or maybe it’s just from the years of practice traversing across different ground. You try your best to follow his hulking footsteps, but with the outside factor and your wandering eyes, it’s difficult.

When Din does stop, you’re so distracted by the rest of the world around you that you almost slam headfirst into his armor.

“Here,” he says, decidedly, looking down at you. “For clothes. Does this seem okay?”

You nod, stepping through the vestibule. The darkness of the store feels cavelike in contrast to the bright, sandy planet just a few footsteps back, and you blink a few times before your eyes adjust to the low light.

“Um,” you whisper, “Din, what planet are we on?”

“Er’kit,” he answers, gloved fingers reaching out to touch a cloak that’s hanging from the rack. “They might not have everything, here, because the entire planet has the same hot atmosphere. But it’ll be enough to get you started.”

“I do not need to get started,” you whisper as three cloaked people in tan robes and light fabric head to the storefront, arms laden with their selections, “I need, like, three shirts. Maybe a pair of pants. And underwear. I can get that all here—”

“I promised you clothes,” Din argues, and then his hands are your hips, swiveling past you to get to the other side of the store, where trousers and loose shirts are hung, all in varying shades from white to black, all neutrals. Typical sand planet clothes, the same kind you collected when you first picked out your own after escaping from Jacterr. Din’s pulling down everything that’s even remotely in your size, and you’re just staring at him. Everyone else seems to be just as transfixed with the armored Mandalorian in the middle of the desert, hauling down an array of shirts and pants and underwear for his considerably shorter and less shiny companion. “How’s this?”

You blink at him, brain stuck on how ridiculous it looks for Din to be holding this many clothes. “Well,” you start, “I think that’s probably triple how many articles of clothing than I’ve ever owned, so that whole comment earlier about this getting started may be a little too eager—”

“Let’s go pay for them,” Din interrupts, and you stare at him.

“I don’t need that many,” you argue, trying to understand where the hell he’s coming from. “Really, D—Mando, just a few things to replace the ones we’ve torn to shreds—” another group of people passing makes your voice cut off, and you step closer to Din, tracking your face in the visor, reflection just as bewildered as you feel. “Plus,” you whisper, blinking as you raise your chin up to meet his helmet, “I have to try them on to make sure they fit.”

He stares at you. Maker, he looks so intimidating when he wants to, so commanding, so powerful. You don’t shy away, though, just cock your head to the side like he does when he’s trying to understand what you mean or wants you to be held under his gaze enough for the butterflies to swirl up in your belly.

“Where’s the closest dressing room?” you ask a passerby clerk, and she gestures toward the very back of the store, where a small, dimly lit hallway opens up to another alcove. You don’t break your staring contest with Din, and, when the clerk has passed, you grab his hand and pull your Mandalorian after you, heart hammering. You look both ways before you step down the hallway, but everyone in the store is either entirely distracted with picking out their own clothes or are up at the register with the worker you just asked, so you pull Din in behind you and lock the door.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and even modulated, it’s low and quick. Urgent. You bite down on your lip as he slowly puts the clothes on the bench at the far end of the dressing room, and, before you lose your nerve at the collection of people still left in the store and the wide expanse of space where the dressing room meets the open air of the building, you pull your shirt off.

Din sighs. Loud. For someone who moves so quiet, so stealthily, when he’s out hunting people for a living, he has quite the tendency to moan whenever he’s near your body. His helmet moves as he sweeps you up and down, and before you lose your nerve, you pull your pants off, too. You hadn’t put any bra or undershirt back on after showering last night, so, beside your panties, you’re completely naked. It’s cold in here, freezing in comparison to the ultraviolet, simmering heat on the planet outside, and with the combination of your temperature and how tantalizing you’re being, your nipples harden. You don’t do anything. You don’t try to cover up, you don’t try to move towards him, you just stand there, every inch of your skin bare except for the underwear you have hiked up over your hips, black and revealing. Din sags where he’s standing as you let your hair down from where it was pinned on the top of your head, letting your hand trail past your chest as you lower your arms, eyes doe-wide and innocent, pinching at your right nipple as you do so.

You’re not sure why it’s so easy to be so brazen in a place so public, but you step forward, just a little, letting your mouth fall open as both of your hands return to your tits, tracing lines over your exposed skin. Din’s leaning back against the wall, now, everything he piled into his arms earlier forgotten on the floor, strewn across the bench. You step closer still, one hand still flicking and pulsing near your nipple, other hand trailing down your open skin towards where the line of your panties are.

“Nova,” Din says, and you’re sure he’s meaning to warn you, but his voice comes out strained and desperate. When you step closer to him still, you watch how he stiffens even through his full Mandalorian regalia, tongue swiping out of your mouth as you imagine how risky it would be to suck him off in here, how public it is, how quiet he’d have to keep as your mouth was wet and hot around him, tongue fluttering in and out, the vacuum of your lips crushing and warm. You pick up Din’s gloved hand, pulling it off by the yellow tips, all while maintain eye contact with him. This is the most dominant you’ve been, you think, especially in a place this public, where anyone could walk down the hallway and see the both of you in there. But you bite your lip as you bring Din’s hand to your mouth, putting his thumb in your mouth, refusing to break eye contact. With your free hand, you slip past the waistband of your panties, middle finger dipping straight down into your slick, and a small moan comes out of your mouth around Din’s thumb.

You know how badly you’re teasing him, and you know how hard he’s going to want to fuck you for it later, so, instead of shying away, you push the tip of your finger inside you, slowly pumping and moving as you’re sucking on him, tits still exposed and perky with how much you’re turned on, Din’s fingers in your mouth. His breath is hitching. He’s so hard. You keep bumping into the bulge in his pants as you finger fuck yourself, and every time your knuckles graze against him, Din’s breath gets faster, heavier, more dangerous.

“What?” you ask, finally, eyebrows raised. Something about the fear of getting caught is making you bolder and bolder, and knowing how much you’re affecting Din while you’re totally naked, dripping around your fingers, makes it easier to forget anyone could be listening.

“You—” Din whispers, his voice cutting off in a wheeze, “you’re fucking killing me, you know that? Dirty girl.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” you ask, raising your left eyebrow, trying to ignore how hard your heart is hammering, how your ears are pulsing with your heartbeat. “You gonna put any of these clothes on me or are you just gonna stand there salivating over how much you want me?”

Everything in you is burning. Some logical, embarrassed voice in the back of your head is screaming at you to stop being so cocky, so brazen, but with the way you can feel yourself tightening around your own fingers, how wet the inside of your panties are around your hand, it’s impossible to stop.

Before you can try to taunt Din again, he moves. Lightning fast. One minute, you’re pressing him against the wall, anchoring him there with your naked body and your fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, and the next, he’s slamming you up against the same spot, face-first. You gasp with the speed of it, how rough he is with you, and when he pushes you against the wall, you moan, barely disguised against your shoulder and the music that’s playing from the storefront. You’re expecting him to yank your panties down and push himself inside you, but when it doesn’t come, you buck up against where you can feel how hard he is, trying to encourage him with just your body.

“Dirty girl,” Din whispers again, his voice low and menacing, and absolutely everything in you is on fire. You gasp as his ungloved hand comes down on your ass, hard, intentional. The logical part of you is still yelling to stop, that you’re so exposed, that you have to shut up and bite your tongue or you’re going to be found in here getting fucked senseless by a Mandalorian, but your desire doesn’t give one single fuck. You want him, here, now. You want him to sink into you, hit every single inch, leave you devastated to make up for the look on his face when Din realized you were Force sensitive, use your pussy as punishment.

But he doesn’t fuck you. He doesn’t pull his pants down, doesn’t start thrusting. Instead, he wraps his gloved hand in your hair, fistfuls of it gathered up at the crown of your head. You gasp as you feel his ungloved one travel from the nape of your neck all the way down to the small of your back. Din freezes, for just a second, and you’re so strung out on his touch that you would let him do literally anything. You feel high, completely buzzing in an astral plane, shivering with how turned on you are, with the knowledge that anyone could walk in on you. His hand slips down, a singular finger tracing just under the outline of where it is on either cheek, and you’re expecting him to pull it down, rip it off you so that he can redress you in something new, but he doesn’t. Instead, over the fabric, he runs his pointer finger down between either cheek, pulsing it right over every ridge, and it feels so foreign, so dirty, that you can’t stifle the moan that comes out of your mouth.

“Shut up,” Din whispers, so deadly, “I can’t touch you if you’re letting the whole town know. Understood?”

“Where are you t—touching me?” you breathe back, heart hammering as he pushes the tip of his finger in between the valley of your ass, and then it disappears. You’re about to groan in protest, tell him he can touch you anywhere he wants, that he owns every inch of your body, before his hand reappears at the front of your panties, yanking the waistband of them down so he can plunge his fingers inside you. The only reason you’re not screaming out in pleasure is because Din’s other hand, the one that was tangled up in your hair, is now pressed flat against your mouth. You sag against him, knees buckling as he works his fingers in you, pumping and out, and your vision is clouding with how close you’re getting, and you’re pretty sure Din could hold you right here forever on the edge of an orgasm, and you’d die happy. But then, right before you’re about to let go, shaking and heaving, the bounty puck strapped to his wrist is blinking, and Din’s fingers are out of you, lightning quick.

“Please,” you moan, so desperate, turning around, breath heavy, hands fluttering towards Din’s wrist to drag it back to touch you, “please, I’m so close, can we wait two seconds—”

“We have to go,” Din interrupts, but he sounds just as dejected and needy as you do, and you blink, trying to come back down to somewhere normal, as he throws you new clothes. Black shirt—a tank top made of thick, durable ribbed material, and a pair of tan cargo pants that were identical to the ones he ripped to shreds a few planets back. You gather up all the tags, fumbling with trying to pin your hair back out of your eyes, barely buttoning the pants over your soaked panties before Din’s flashing out o the dressing room, and you load your arms with enough clothing as you can, shoving fabric into your back as Din throws a handful of credits at the clerk, more than enough to cover whatever you’ve taken, and you try your best to keep moving in his footsteps, immediately attacked by the heat and the sun reflecting off the beskar.

“What’s wrong,” you holler at him as he runs, expertly weaving in and out of the crowded streets. “Hey! Where are we going?”

Din stops, so sudden you almost collide into him all over again, takes your hand, and keeps running. You’re not prepared for this. You’re quick when you need to be, but your body aches from sleeping funny around the baby last night, and your body still wants the orgasm Din got you on the edge of just a minute ago, and it’s so fucking bright out here, and your breath is quick and shallow in your throat.

“Bounty’s running,” is all he manages, and then you’re being yanked behind him again, trying to keep your feet moving in a pace that’s steady, if not fast, sweaty and covered with dust from Er’kit’s sandy atmosphere.

The noise comes before you’re even aware of what it is, the whine and pitch of the TIE fighter familiar and angry.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you scream, and Din stops long enough for you to take cover behind the beskar before an array of blasts are rained down on the two of you. In the distance, just over the next few streets, you see two people joined at the wrist like you and Din are, tearing out of the inn he mentioned, and your heart sinks as the fighter turns back around, sending another set of bullets towards both of you, and Din pulls you around the corner right before the sand swells up and the rounds ricochet were you were just standing. “Why is the Empire here?” you scream, over the noise, as Din pulls his gun out of its holster and aims a few shots at the couple tearing through the sandy path.

“Bounty must have called them,” he volleys back, ducking behind the wall as the TIE fighter starts screeching towards the both of you instead, “he must have seen the Crest.”

The Crest, you think, okay, sure, maybe, but how did he know that was Din’s ship? Then, just as quickly—the baby.

“The baby!” you scream, over the noise of the ship hurtling over you, and Din shields your entire body with his, dragging the both of you around the corner. “Din! He’s alone on the ship—”

He turns around, grabbing your hips so that you’re right up against the beskar, and you stare straight into the visor. “Can you get to him?” he asks, and he’s so intentional with it, so quiet, and you blink, trying to make sure you feel steady enough to make a break for it.

“Yes,” you promise. “Can you get this Imperial scum off my back long enough for me to make it down the road?”

“Yes,” Din echoes, resolute. “I’ll meet you there in three minutes.”

“Be safe,” you say, and he presses the visor against your forehead, hand squeezing in yours, and then he’s up and out from around the wall, firing an entire armada at the TIE fighter, running towards where the bounty’s on the move, gaining speed as he shoots up into the sky. You swallow, press the symbol on your necklace between your two fingers for luck, and start running yourself.

You’re not fast. You’re not that quick on your feet, you’re so much better in the air, but the second your eyes collide with an abandoned speeded against the cantina, you hop on, revving the throttle. The presumable owner comes rushing out of the bar, yelling after you, but you go anyways, screaming your apologies into the wind. “I just need it for a second!” you scream to the dust behind you, “I’ll give it back, I promise!”

It’s much faster than you would have been on foot, and you pull up on the throttle as you zoom past where Din’s running. The bounty and his partner are still a considerable distance ahead of Din, but he’s gaining speed, and you’re the fastest in this particular equation. You exhale, praying to the Maker above that you don’t completely wipe out with the maneuver you’ve never attempted, and throw the contents of the compartment on the back of your speeder at the bounty. It doesn’t hit him square in the middle of the back like you intended, but it knocks into his shoulder, hard, and the two of them go down face first into the sand as Din catches up to them.

The TIE fighter screeches from behind you, and you chance one look at where it’s gaining speed, and you swing the bike around clumsily to shoot what’s left of your bullets into the sky. None of your shots land, but that doesn’t matter, because the fighter veers noisily off its course and you’re able to shudder to a halt, jump down into the sand, and run furiously towards the gangplank. The airlocks hiss as you get close enough to unlock them with your heat signature, and you thunder up the plank, where the baby’s sitting in the middle of the floor, the rest of your food supply strewn out around him.

All the adrenaline runs out of you backward as you fall to your knees on the floor of the Crest, looking in disbelief at the rest of the stock, which is all over the floor.

“You are a little menace,” you say, but you can’t even be angry, because you’re so grateful he’s standing right there, little green belly full, eyes open and full of love. You pull him towards your chest, just for a second, and then you hear the screeching return. You hoist the gangplank up as quickly as you can before the noise multiplies.

“Get in your cradle,” you toss at the baby as you climb the ladder, and as you’re strapping in, you hear the egg zoom up the stairs behind you, parking on top of the copilot’s seat. You see Din out of the Crest’s front window, gun to both bounties, and as the fleet of TIE fighters whine in the sky above, your heart does backflips, stomach unsettled. “Shit.”

You’re about to lift off, fly the rest of the fighters out of the sky, or at least send them on wild goose chase after you so Din can get a secure hold on the bounties, but then you see the gun in the woman’s hand and every single other instinct leaves your head except to protect Din. You hurl yourself back down the ladder, starting the ship up as you grab whatever weapon’s closest in the armory and thunder back down the gangplank.

She has her gun to his head. It’s probably not going to do anything, because it’s weak and rickety and no match for Mandalorian beskar, but the fear inside your chest is dizzying and real. You scream at her as you advance, trying to balance the weight of the heavy blaster in your hand while attempting to look menacing. She catches your eye before three new fighters swoop overhead, and you scream, unleashing bullets at the sky. None of them land this time either, but it’s enough for one to crash into the other, and the third has to circle up an away so they won’t be dragged into the impact. You stagger forward, trying to raise the blaster to a steady grip. It’s so heavy. You think Din’s yelling at you through the helmet, but the noise of the crash and the remaining fighters popping out of space and into the planet’s atmosphere is way too loud.

“Don’t you dare,” you scream, running towards the bounty. She doesn’t flinch, so you grab the real quarry, the man handcuffed in iron on the ground, and push the heavy weight of the muzzle flush up against his temple. “You hurt mine, I’ll hurt yours,” you warn, trying to sound much more resolute and honest than you feel. You don’t dare to take your eyes off her, but you can hear the screech of the TIE fighters in the distance, and you don’t have enough time. “Let him go,” you warn, and she clicks the safety off. You have no intention of actually hurting the bounty, let alone sending him to his death, but with the ships gaining speed behind you and with her own blaster up against Din’s head, your choices are evaporating quicker than your deliberation. “Let him go,” you warn her again, and she pulls another blaster out of her pocket, and you’re staring down the iron as Din tries to wrestle the gun she’s pointed at his face out of her other hand. She fires a shot, just once, and you’re almost positive it’s just into the sandy ground, but you scream, guttural and unhinged, and you kick down the bounty as you swing the heavy blaster back towards his girlfriend.

Din’s laying in the dirt, and you’re crying, and you’re pretty sure you’re yelling for him, but she’s still threatening you with her blaster and you can hear how quickly the fighters are gaining speed and you panic. You see Din move—weakly, but enough to prove that he’s just injured, not fatally wounded—and something in you snaps. As the first fighter whizzes over your head, sending down an array of blasts, your hands drop the blaster and shove palm-first into the sky.

It wasn’t intentional. You were trying to not use the Force at all, especially in front of people who probably summoned the leftovers of the Empire here after you and Din and the baby, but the blaster is completely useless against an array of ships, and it unleashes itself from you like a lightning strike. You freeze the bullets from the TIE fighter midair, the fizzle and pulsing of their electricity surging as you scream, sending them straight back up where they came from. It’s enough to keep most of the ships back, diverting their route and blasts away from the four of you, and when you’re sure they’re not an immediate threat, you turn on the woman, who looks terrified of you.

You hate that look. It’s the same one that Din wore this morning, the same one that you knew anyone would ever have if you showed them what you could do. You’re not a scary person, let alone a menacing one, but you can feel how nervous she is, how much power you can harness. You breathe, exhaling slowly as you pull your hands down, level with her chest, and she’s frozen. You’re not trying to keep her there, to choke her off, but it’s like the power you can hold in your palms is doing it for you. Horrified, you pull your hands down, releasing her into the sand, and you help haul Din to his feet, grabbing the second set of cuffs for her as he starts pulling the couple towards the Crest. You follow behind, trudging through the sand you just kicked up, exhausted and aching.

You’re on the gangplank before you hear it. You feel it before it even jumps into the atmosphere, that pit of darkness and danger in your chest, but you’re so wiped from sending the other handful of ships packing that you think it’s just leftovers. It’s not. Out of nowhere, Gideon’s vantablack, arachnid TIE fighter unfolds its evil wings, and you collapse on the gangplank as it surges towards the five of you.

“Get inside,” you scream, and Din freezes the couple in one block of carbonite as you crack your neck, trying to summon the energy that all drained out of you a few seconds ago. The baby coos from behind you, and you shake your head as Gideon advances, shooting a volley of bullets towards the Crest. You stop them, but you’re shaking, hands trembling, watching helplessly as he swings around and doubles back. There are tears at the corners of your eyes, and your chest is heaving, the hot, dusty air parching and sucking a wound in your esophagus. “I can’t—” you manage, and then Din pulls the Crest up off the sand, and you hang onto the bar just inside of the gangplank, hauling yourself back up standing. You can feel the baby as strongly as Gideon’s ship is loud, and you feed off his energy, trying to gain enough back to stop the blasts that are being shot through the open air.

Being airborne helps. Even when you’re not at the helm, it steadies you to be skyward, to have gravity on your side. Gideon’s ship fires another round of blasts, and, to avoid them, the Crest slams back against the sand, and you tumble down again. You push yourself off the floor, still weak, still unable to hold a steady breath, and you watch as Gideon lands his ship and emerges from the cockpit.

Something ignites in his hands. At first, you think it’s still a mirage, that shimmering blackness against the hot horizon, but as Gideon advances, you realize exactly what it is. It’s a weapon you’ve only seen in nightmares and in the baby’s visions. It’s like a lightsaber, but sharper, electric. The blade is as dark as his ship is, so black it would scare darkness, and the edge frenzies with white-hot light. You skitter backward, up the gangplank, as Gideon advances through the sand. His face is set and angry, vicious and cold. You hold your hands up, heart hammering something horrible, knowing there’s not a chance in hell that you’re a match for him to begin with, but the last time you were face to face with a lightsaber—a real one, not one that came from dreams—you nearly died because of it.

“Fucking—move,” you shriek at Din, “I can’t hold him off!” And the Crest groans, but he’s able to get her airborne as Gideon breaks into a run, hurtling straight towards you with death and destruction in his eyes, the blade of the saber wicked and electric. Din’s able to get the ship up off the ground right before Gideon’s boots meet the end of the gangplank, and you scream, guttural and desperate, as you use the last remaining source of energy to push him back.

“There is no place,” Gideon screams, “that you can hide from me, Mandalorian.”

“Try me,” Din seethes, over the sound of the engine, pulling your slumped body backwards as the gangplank shakily rises.

“The baby or the girl,” Gideon says, his voice determined and taunting, “Next time, I’ll make you choose which one.”

You want to give him a snappy response how he’ll have to pry you from Din’s cold, dead hands, and the baby too, but you don’t even have the energy to sit up straight, and with the fury that Gideon is harnessing, you don’t want to put any ideas into his head. You nod wordlessly at Din that he can leave to navigate the ship, and he hurries up the ladder, punches in coordinates that are anywhere but Er’kit, and shoots the Crest up and out into the atmosphere before he returns, dropping to his knees and pulling you up against the wall, his hands suspending both of your cheeks to keep you upward.

“Novalise,” Din whispers, his voice low and urgent, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nova.”

“’M okay,” you manage, and the word itself takes so much out of you that you know Din can tell you’re lying. “I’m fine, I—”

He pats your cheeks and you look up at him, letting him tuck rogue hair behind your ears. “That was way too close, Nova,” Din hisses, pressing the cold metal of the visor against your forehead. “Way too fucking close.”

“He got pretty damn close,” Din snarls, barreling over you. “Too close. I’m never putting you that close to danger again.”

“I am the danger,” you protest, blinking up at him, weakly grabbing onto his wrists where he’s suspending your face, holding you up. “I—I made the mistake, I used the Force when I wasn’t supposed to, and he probably already knew we were down here, and he—”

“Don’t you dare,” Din snaps, and you’re not even sure what he’s warning you about, but your mouth bubbles closed, staring up at him. Everything hurts. You’re still heaving and exhausted, and all you want to do is strip Din down and fall asleep pressed against his bare chest, but he’s still holding onto you like you’re the only thing in the galaxy, and you just let him. “That was not your fault. It was mine. I was reckless, I put you in a dangerous situation, and he got too close. You’re not going to ever be that close to Gideon—or anything dangerous—again, do you understand me?”

“I’m—” you start, and you know you should protest, tell Din that you’re a big girl, that you can handle yourself, that you don’t scare easy, but you simply don’t have enough energy left in you to even make the words come to the forefront of your mind, balance them on your tongue. “I protect you, remember?”

Din pulls the helmet off. It’s so abrupt that you don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s off and you can see every inch of his beautiful face. His hands find your cheeks again, and you pull him down on the floor with you, enough so that you can climb into his lap, leaning up against the wall, body slumped in exhaustion against the weight of his armor.

“He almost took you,” Din whispers, and his voice sounds so much more fragile when it’s not running through the modulator. You swallow, trying not to cry. “I put you in that situation, cyar’ika, and he almost took you from me. Just to strip you for parts—for whatever makes that energy run through you. He would torture and kill you afterward just to get to me. There’s not a fucking chance I’m ever letting him get that close to you again. Do you understand me?”

You just nod, transfixed, lifting your fingers to graze up against his face. He doesn’t flinch when you touch him, doesn’t try to shy away. He stares at you, deep, soulful, protective.

“I can protect myself,” you say weakly, and Din shakes his head.

“You can. You’re more than capable. But it’s my job to keep you safe,” Din says, his voice broken and dark, “and I didn’t do that out there.”

“I’m fine,” you insist again, and then, because he’s still shaking his head, “I’m fine, I promise, I’m fine, okay, Din, I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here, I’m fine—”

“Were you scared out there?” he asks, forehead so warm against yours, and you want to nod, want to tell him you were terrified, but you think it might break him, that he’d stop down at the next port and reinforce every single part of the Crest, revamp the artillery, and buy you something completely bulletproof if you do, so you shake your head wordlessly.

“I don’t scare easy,” you remind him, the promise you made way back on Nevarro finding its way to your lips. “Remember?”

Din doesn’t have a chance to answer before his lips are up against yours, desperate and wet and warm. You let him lean you back into the wall, and all the dominant, intimidating energy that he pressed you up with not a half hour before has completely drained out of him. Din’s not devouring you because he’s insatiable. This time, it’s because he’s desperate.

You let him kiss you like it’s the first time all over again. You let yourself be pushed back, body limp to everything except Din’s touch, and he pulls you closer and closer, mouth roving down the pulse points on your neck, lips like wildfire. His hands tangle in your hair and you hum happily under the feeling, and, finally, he slides you down horizontal.

His eyes are hungry. Desperate, pulsing with the kind of energy that he barely lets out. He strips you down, quickly but gently, and then he starts prying off the armor, throwing it behind him all over the hull. You pull down on his pauldrons, releasing them as you run your own fingers through his dark hair, eyes fluttering open to the shape of his nose, his dark eyelashes, his pink mouth. If he catches you staring, he doesn’t let on, just keeps pushing his tongue inside you, licking the inside of your mouth, hands seizing both cheeks, trying to coax every kiss you have in you out of your open lips.

“What can I do?” Din murmurs. His voice is so deep, it rumbles through the butterflies in your belly, startling them to awaken.

“I’m okay,” you insist again, and then you realize he’s asking for permission. “Anything,” you breathe back into his mouth, trying to resuscitate him the best you can. “You can do anything to me. Touch me like you did back on Er’kit. Devour me like you did on Naator. Just take me however you want me—” you say, trying to throw all your energy into your words, but Din’s mouth cuts you off. You moan permission back into his lips, and he nods against you. When he pushes inside you, it’s slow. Agonizing, like he’s trying to savor every single second. You want him just as badly as you did back down in the dressing room, but you don’t dare tell him to move harder and faster. You let him pull and glide in and out, every single inch disappearing into the hollow of your stomach. Your breath is hot and heavy, and he’s murmuring something into your collarbone. Eventually, as you relax into the sensation of him inside you, Din picks up the pace. He’s slamming into you like you’re the last thing on earth, like you’re the only thing left. You can’t hear what he’s whispering against your skin, what he’s whining in your ears, because everything in you is focused on how his hips are hammering, how he’s burying himself to the hilt. It’s deafening and hot and you’re completely on autopilot, eyes wide open on the crush of space that’s just above the surface of the Crest, one hand tangled up in Din’s curls, the other on the side of his beautiful face, and as you feel him starting to quiver, he pulls his mouth off your neck and looks right at you.

It’s intimidating. You haven’t seen him this up close before, not without the helmet. Even the blip you had on Yavin before both of you came at the same time, it wasn’t like this. In the darkness, even, you can see how he’s looking at you. His gaze is frenzied and desperate, and you put both hands on either of his cheeks, trying to calm it down, trying to coax his orgasm out of him as gently as you can, but he’s looking at you with such a passion that you flush under his gaze.

“I’m not ever letting him touch you,” Din whispers, and the rhythm of it matches what he was whittling into your collarbone this whole time, “I’m never—ever—putting you in danger like that again, cyar’ika, never, never, never—”

“I’m okay,” you echo again, your vision starting to glaze with tears, and Din nods, breath heavy and hot against you as his hips pick up the rhythm, pounding every inch of his cock inside you as hard and intentional as he can. “I’m safe, you keep me safe—”

“No one is going to hurt you,” Din interrupts, like it’s a mantra, “I’ll protect you, I—I’ll protect you, I’ll protect you—”

“No one can touch me like you,” you whisper, and you mean it every way you possibly can, and Din’s sweaty forehead presses up against yours as he moans, low and strangled, and you hold his face as he lets go, pulsing and warm. You just keep him there, as long as you possibly can, staring deep into his eyes, letting your promise sink in. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He stares at you. Your eyebrows furrow, looking up at him, trying to decode the look on his face. Finally, he kisses you, all that frenzy and desperation form earlier evaporated, and his lips are gentle against yours. You sigh as he pulls out, cleans himself off, and curls up next to you. You’re not even sure if you came, but you don’t care. You press yourself up to Din’s bare chest, trying to heal whatever you broke down there with your touch. The silence is so loud, but you stroke your fingers through his hair, trying to show him you’re not leaving, you’re not going to be torn away from him, that Gideon couldn’t ever get through him to grab you—but you’re not sure it’s going to do the trick. After what feels like hours, you’re able to summon words. You’re up in the crook of Din’s arm, face resting in the hollow of his neck.

“What did you mean earlier?” you ask, and in this silence, even your whisper is loud. “B—before you left, you told me that me being Force sensitive, it makes something…easy?”

He’s quiet. You wait, grazing your fingers over the side of his face. “I didn’t know how powerful you were,” he says, finally, and you bite your lip in the darkness, trying to understand. “I—the baby, he’s saved me like you did today. It takes everything out of him, after, but you know how much he protected us when we crashed on Dagobah. He’s done that. A few times.”

“He’s stronger than I am,” you start, and you feel Din’s head start shaking next to you.

“I think you match him. You’re just as powerful, Nova. I saw it today.”

Your heartbeat is fast and loud. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing—”

Din shifts to face you, and you try to find his brown eyes in the darkness. “You have the ability. You—you can learn. You can teach him.”

You blink at him before you sit up, realizing what he means. “I—I almost got us killed down there, today, Din, that was a very—” you inhale, sharply, “close call, and I got us out, I didn’t get hurt, b—but every time I use it, we get closer and closer to danger. I don’t want it. I don’t want to use it. It makes me and the baby targets, I meant what I said earlier—”

“You can train him,” Din repeats, sitting up beside you. You’re shaking your head fervently, and you don’t think he can see you, but you hope he feels it. “You can get strong together, and then—I don’t know, we can go after Gideon and stop him—”

“No,” you interrupt, voice high and shrill. “I don’t want to. I don’t want this. I’m putting us all in danger every time I use it—don’t you understand that? I almost got killed today because of it.” It’s too sharp. You feel it dagger him in the chest, and you reach forward for him. Din freezes, affronted, but he slowly lets you pull yourself up against him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, and you lay back down, entangled in each other’s arms. “I—I just don’t think I know enough about it to teach the baby. I don’t know enough about how it works myself. I think we need to find s—someone, another Jedi, I don’t know—to teach the both of us.”

“Gideon’s going to keep coming,” Din whispers back, suddenly, “and I don’t think I can protect both of you when he does.”

You don’t have it in you to argue, because somewhere deep and dark inside you, you know it’s the truth. The thought’s full of nightmares waiting for you. So you just pull Din’s head into your chest, wordless, and try your best to pull the both of you, heavy and exhausted, into sleep.

as always, reply here or send me a message to be added to the taglist!!!

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!! this chapter broke me a little to write because i hate angst, but i promise after the storm that's coming, there's going to be so much happiness!! if you're an angst-hater like me, i promise sticking it out through these next few chapters will be worth it ;) thank you all so much again from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and patience!! your support truly means the world and more to me!!! love y'all!!!!!!

CHAPTER 21 WILL (LIKELY) BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST ON SATURDAY, MAY 15TH!!! i'll let you know if anything changes!!!

xoxo, amelie

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professorrw · 3 years

Text

Pool Party

Pairing: male reader x Peter Parker

Request: Could you maybe do a peter parker x male reader with lots of fluff?

Warnings: fluff

A/N: Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

Summer was in full swing. The sun was out and so was school. You weren’t going on a fancy vacation or anything like that. You were staying home and enjoying the much needed rest. At least you were trying to. You were laying on the couch watching TV when your phone dinged with a notification.

You threw your legs over the side of the couch and leaned forward to grab your phone. When you saw it was Peter that texted a smile appeared on your face. “Do you want to go to a pool party with me?” it said.

You quickly typed a response, “Duh.”

On the other side of the phone Peter too was smiling down at your response. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a boyfriend like you. You were always happy to do random stuff with him and he really appreciated it.

Peter texted you the location of the party, the time, and told you he would see you there.

You set your phone down and went to your room to get your swim trunks on and grab some sunscreen and a towel. You told your parents where you were going and went to the party. It was being held at one of your classmate’s houses.

Peter was waiting for you at the front of the house in his trunks. As soon as you got there he ran up and kissed you.

He pulled away but still had his arms around you, “I missed you.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “You saw me a few days ago, dork.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss you. Besides, to me it felt like an eternity.”

You both laughed and headed to the back. The party was already in full effect and everyone was swimming and having a good time. Ned was sitting on a lounger and waved you both over when you came into sight, “Over here guys!”

You both walked over to Ned, who was laid back with his sunglasses on. You threw your towel on the seat next to his and popped open your sunscreen. You put it on your arms, face, and stomach before turning to Peter. “Can you do my back?”

“Of course.” He took the bottle from you and squirted some of the white liquid on his hands. He rubbed them together and started applying it. Not only did he cover you in it, he massaged your back while he was at it.

“Wow- you’re really good at massages,” you said to him.

“Thank you, I give Aunt May massages sometimes,” he said bashfully. You and Ned both laughed, which caused his face to turn scarlet.

“Can I get one?” Ned asked. Peter turned to him with a deadpan face and shook his head. Ned snickered in response.

Peter looked at you. “Could you do my back too?” he asked.

“Absolutely.” You picked the sunscreen up and started to lather it on Peter’s back just like he did for you. When you were done he kissed you with sunscreen on his mouth. You swiped at your lips and Peter gave you a sad look because he thought you were wiping away his kiss.

“Babe, there’s sunscreen on your mouth,” you explained. You cupped his face and swiped it away with your thumb. While you were doing that Peter was looking at you with a shy smile. No matter how long you two were together he would always be shy and nervous, especially when you were so close to him. You thought it was cute, and sometimes you would tease him for it, which only made him blush even more.

You and Peter lounged by the pool until your sunscreen was dry. There were steps leading into the pool but there was also a diving board. You chose the ladder and jumped into the pool with a splash. Peter was after you and he did a flip, which you and Ned cheered for.

When your boyfriend resurfaced he wiped away the hair that was sticking to his face and grinned.

You were about to swim over to him when cold water pelted you in the back. You whipped around and Ned was standing there pointing a water gun straight at you.

“Y/N are you going to take that?” Peter asked.

“Nope,” you responded and lunged for a water gun on the edge of the pool. Thankfully it was full and you started shooting Ned, who in turn shot you more. Meanwhile Peter had grabbed his own water gun and was shooting Ned too.

Ned put his hands up, “I surrender! I surrender!”

“That’s what I thought.” You smirked and pretended to blow smoke off your gun.

For the next two hours you and Peter swam and goofed around. You continued to shoot each other with water guns, dunk each other, and ‘act like a gross couple’ as Ned called it.

You and Peter were haphazardly throwing a football back and forth when someone shouted, “Who wants to play chicken?” Almost exactly like a dog hearing the word ‘treats’ or ‘outside,’ Peter perked up and looked at you.

You and the brunette swam over to where they were gathering and joined in. Peter climbed up on your shoulders and another guy from your class climbed on Ned. You were being knocked back and forth from the movement but you stuck it through and held onto Peter’s legs until he was able to knock down the other guy.

“Yeah!” Peter shouted. He climbed down from your shoulders and hugged you while he jumped up and down. The absolute joy displayed on your boyfriend’s face made you melt inside. He was the most adorable person on Earth hands down.

“Y/N get on my shoulders and Peter get on Ned’s,” one of your classmates said.

You climbed up on his shoulders and Peter climbed on Ned’s. Once you were both in position the person you were on walked closer to your opponents. You stuck your hands out and as soon as Peter was within reach you started to try and knock him off. You weren’t opposed to playing dirty so when Peter was close enough you leaned forward and kissed him, which made him quit thinking of anything but his lips on yours.

That was the perfect moment for you to pull away and quickly push him down. He fell into the water with a splash and came back up shaking the water out of his ear.

Ned raised his hand up and you high five him. Meanwhile Peter was pouting next to you.

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You cheated," he pouted.

"All's fair in chicken," you said.

For the remainder of the party you were both laughing and having a good time. The sun had set and everything was winding down.

You and Peter walked hand in hand down the street to a food truck that sold ice cream. It wasn't an ice cream truck because it sold more than just ice cream. It sold burgers and hotdogs and things like that too. But at the moment all you wanted was an ice cream cone to help you cool off.

You and Peter sat side by side at a picnic table eating your dessert.

"That was a lot of fun," you said.

"Yeah, it was."

The two of you sat in a pleasant silence, staring out at the sunset.

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emperor-palpaminty · 3 years

Text

Killing Time

Because nothing can kill a relationship like lies.

A modern AU where crosshair is a hitman and you're his loyal girlfriend who happens to be in the bodyguard business, but neither one of you know the other's careers

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, making oit and allusions to smut, also this is in no way accurate to real life and it's just dramatic, please don't hurt me lol

children you have full permission to run away and not come here, in fact please run away

Very few things phased you. The only things that brought you to your precipice of agitation was burning pasta, your phone charger not working, and showing up to your shift only to realize someone had been killing all your clients.

Who said keeping people alive was easy? No one, that was who, and if anyone said it they were wrong or had no experience working with others whatsoever. Making sure others lived to see their next day was deadly business, for the people that were trying to live, at least.

“Charles!” You barked, feet hitting the floor of the bull pen. “What the hell happened?” You slammed your files on your desk, face warm, head just about collapsing with pressure. Your fingers pressed to your temples, hoping that they would grip it, hold it together. “Burke was alive when I left last night.”

“Doesn't matter now." Your coworker dropped his sandwich onto his desk. "Burke is fucking dead now. As dead as a doorknob." He swallowed his bite. "Luckily, you weren't on shift when it happened, so you aren't gonna catch any fire for it."

"Shit, Charles, a man is dead." You collapsed in your chair, a gentle "oomph" escaping your mouth. Your lips pressed together in agitation and you moaned to yourself. "This is the third one in two months. Sure, I'll get a couple cold bodies, but-"

"But this is a lot." Charles sunk into his own chair, grabbing for his sandwich again.

You stared at him, disbelief coating your gaze. "One is a lot, Charles," You snarled, grabbing at the folder on your desk. "Any leads?"

"Oh, yeah. But they're all at Burke's mansion." Charles tossed the crust of his lunch into the trash can. "I can drive ya."

"No, I'll take my car," You grumbled. You swiped the keys from your desk and stood, stalking back towards the elevator, anger eating away at you.

If one more of your clients- YOUR own clients- got killed, you would have to start pulling full shifts again.

___

Your shoes, practical, did little more than tap against the marble floor as you ducked under the Police tape. You skimmed the scene, frowning, eyes gracing past a particularly nasty chunk of gore on the wall. "Shot from above," You mumbled, glancing at the shattered window.

The mansion was huge. You'd been coming here for nearly a year now to keep an eye on Burke, and it still shocked you when you saw the absolute volume of the home. How much house would one man need, exactly?

In your years as a bodyguard you'd watched out for a lot of people- spoiled celebrities, prideful and arrogant politicians, and a particularly interesting Chef who had an unusual desire to cook everything with some kind of caffeine in it. That was probably your favorite client.

"Excuse me, miss," a voice broke the mumble in the next room, probably of detectives or cops sweeping the house for evidence. "You shouldn't-"

"I was Burke's bodyguard." You tugged your badge out or your pocket, allowing the interrupting police officer to take it and examine it. “You can verify with my assistant, Charles. Make sure you tell him he’s my assistant and not the other way around, though, he can be a dick.”

The cop hesitated, then gave a slight nod. “Well, we’re still cleaning up the scene.” His hands offered your badge back, and you slid it into your back pocket, satisfaction deflating. “You can come by later after it’s clean. Ballistics is running comparisons right now.” He paused and glanced at the shattered window. “Looks like the shot came from the garage. It’s the only side with no motion sensors or alarms.” The cop’s brows raised in interest. “Know why?”

“No.” You said, calmly, turning towards the front door. “I assume I can go there?” You heard no objection as you stepped outside, tugging your sunglasses back on over your eyes. The sun was unforgiving and you gave an involuntary hiss as the bright rays hit your eyes just right to temporarily give your vision black spots. You blinked strongly and hurried towards the garage.

In truth, Burke had alarms everywhere except the garage because he had so many people and cars coming and going. For any new technology the billionaire was releasing, the man had drugs and other forms of entertainment coming in and out, and it was all stuff that would probably bring him down. That nondisclosure form was still somewhere in the house in some obscure filing cabinet and you really, really, really didn’t feel like having a lawsuit lurking over your shoulders. Life was too good- well, everything outside of people you were being paid to keep alive was good.

Death really killed the whole “survival” business.

You clamored your way to the roof of the garage, noting the ladder was the same one that the gardener used around the several acres Burke owned. The police had to have put it here- the gardener only came in the mornings.

So who the hell climbed up here without a ladder? Most people didn’t want to put in the effort to scale this freehand or wedge between the wall of the garage and the fence to shimmy up. That someone had to be either very determined to kill Burke, for personal motive or financial motive.

You brushed off you pants and glanced around, looking down at the surface of the roof. Nothing- not even a bullet casing- had been left behind. You frowned and raked a hand through your hair, skimming your scalp as you examined the roof, walking to the edge closest to the window.

You stared in, at the shattered glass, pondering. Burke was heading to bed when he'd been shot, you assumed, so the assassian would have had to know his routine. Your mind ran through possibilities again, but you could come up with none that were motivated personally enough or fit enough to climb without much assistance. You trailed along the surface, frowning, unable to find anything, but paused at a smudge of black paint, small, on the corner of the roof.

____

You turned your car down the street, exhaling softly as you pulled into your driveway.

99. That was what the marks said. Very subtle, meant nothing, unless it was a birth year or graduating class. The cops had come back, irritated, snapped a couple of pictures, and told you off about your wild theories of a fiscally motivated assassian. Apparently, you watched too many scret agent movies, or something like that.

You opened the door of the car and climbed out, frustration making you slam it shut. You inhaled the scent of the yard- clean, fresh cut, and perhaps it could help soothe your anger before you went inside.

After fumbling on your Keychain, you unlocked the door and hurried in, locking it behind you. "Cross?"

A savory aroma wafted from the kitchen, and your mouth watered. Your toes found their way out of your shoes and you hurried to the kitchen, pausing briefly at the doorway.

Cross's lanky figure was leaning over the skillet, stirring something, pale hands moving in expertise across the stove top. "Darling, you're late." He drawled.

You sighed, fully entering the kitchen. "Yeah. Sorry." You leaned up and wrapped your arms around his waist, face pressing against his back. You sighed. The day felt a little less bad now- filled with him. "Work kept me."

"How was work?"

You grunted. "A killer. An absolute killer." The irony was not lost on you, but it was lost to your boyfriend. He thought you were an editor for some book publishing company, because cover was the most important thing. You were one of those people trying to stay alive, after all.

Lies hurt, but it was one of the necessary ones. A little lie.

"Yikes." His hands drew plates to himself. "Mine wasn't much better. Got a few new clients, a few new cases." He sighed. "The Baliff forgot to submit evidence."

You mumbled against his shirt. "Law school really paid off, huh?"

"I'll say." He turned around, adjusting your arms, slowly taking your chin and leaning down to peck you. You always melted at his kisses, knees weak and brain numb, and he seemed to know it every time. You hummed, running your hands up his chest, the irritation for the day pooling to your midsection as your fingers gripped his shirt, your lips pulling in on his.

Cross tugged away gently, and you whined, fingers stubbornly clasped. "Wow, really frustrated today."

"Yes," You mumbled.

His lips pressed towards one of their corners in a half smile, and he picked your head. "Go shower. Then we can eat and I'll take care of you."

You hummed, fingers reluctantly releasing him, and you hurried away to the bathroom. You paused at the dresser, rummaging through, grabbing an especially large t-shirt and hipster underwear. Comfort was more important at the moment.

You climbed into the shower, turning the water to as hot as you could and scrubbing yourself off, humming in pleasure as the day came off you and went down the drain. The floral scent of the soap remained, the purple bad working diligently to rid you of your grime and frustration. Lavender really is a natural relaxant. You sighed and leaned back briefly on the tile, feeling every muscle in you ease at the same time.

After toweling off and getting dressed, your padded to the kitchen where Cross was pouring a your favorite wine. You sighed happily, accepting the glass as he skimmed your fresh-showered body. "Thanks."

"Of course." Cross picked up his own glass, taking a sip, eyes still diligently stripping you on their own. You shivered slightly, setting down your glass and looking up at him. "Dinner's ready," He mumbled, leaning in, pressing a hand to the counter of either side of you, leaving your back to the counter. "But I would much rather start with dessert."

You drew in a breath as he pressed his lips to your neck, drawing out a sigh with his teeth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in agreement, and he scooped you up. Your groaned as he drew your legs around his lips, shifting, the agitating heat pooling back between your legs. "That's a good idea." You mumbled, whimpering as he bucked his hips slightly. "I just showered, though."

"Then we can take another one," He hissed, lips covering yours. "You're so damn intoxicating."

You mumbled something against his lips, unable to get a coherent response out as he dropped you on the bed. You bounced briefly, giggling, and he yanked off his shirt and joined you, climbing over you and hovering. "Come here, sweetheart," His finger traced over your shirt between your breasts, running down to the hem. "Let's end the day on a good note."

You whimpered, neck straining as you leaned up for his kiss, and you felt Cross snarl against you, tugging your surrendered form up closer to him. Your body relaxed again, neck loosening and head back against the pillow as he tugged your own shirt up, eyes gleaming with a primal eagerness that made you swoon, ready to work out the agitation for the day you both had.

#crosshair x reader #bad batch crosshair x reader #bad batch au #hitman crosshair #bad batch reader insert #clone force 99 reader insert #crosshair #crosshair x you #minty writes

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floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

final sleigh drabble #3

❛ Seokjin has an idea…❜

original oneshot here // drabble index here

kim seokjin x reader smut, oral (female receiving) 2,409 words

Seokjin noticed Ana trailing into the kitchen first seeing as you were too busy nosing through his cupboards in hunt of something for brunch. “Good morning, or should I say,” he glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes to midday.”

“Morning,” your best friend greeted, tone unenthusiastic. “Do you have any coffee?”

“I made some not too long ago. It should still be hot enough.”

You joined Seokjin who was leant up against one of the counters, watching Ana grab two mugs from the draining board. “What time did you two wake up?” She asked, looking in your direction.

“Too early. Seokjin snores.”

“Hey, no I don’t!” He exclaimed. “Y/N kicks in her sleep. I’m surprised I’m not black and blue.”

Ana chuckled, rubbing her sleepy eyes. “You get used to it.”

Folding his arms, Seokjin suddenly looking curious. “Where’s the sex god himself then?”

As Ana poured the coffee, she immediately looked unimpressed. “Are we just going to pretend like you two weren’t up to no good last night too?”

“Up to no good?” Seokjin repeated, turning to you with judgement in his eyes. “Why do you guys speak like you’re middle aged?” Before you could think to whack him, he was talking again. “Anyway, I have no idea what you’re referring to. Y/N and I played monopoly and were fast asleep by 11pm.”

“Sure, now who’s middle aged?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “No, but really, where is Yoongi?”

“In the shower. He asked for coffee.”

“And you’re just going to get it for him?” Seokjin snorted.

“I wanted some too.”

Tutting, Seokjin pushed himself off the counter. “He’s got you wrapped around his little finger already. Watch him, he may be small but he’s dangerous.”

With a scoff, your best friend looked your way, grabbing the two mugs. “I can’t believe you’re fucking him, Y/N.”

“Me neither.”

Her parting words as she left the kitchen caused chaos. “No wonder she calls you dick cheese.”

“Dick what?!” Seokjin roared in disbelief.

Great, thanks for that, Ana...

You spent the rest of the day at Seokjin’s place, watching lame Christmas movies on his sofa. You hadn’t brought fresh clothes, not expecting to spend the night so Seokjin had loaned you a pair of his boxers and sweats (drawstring pulled as tight it could go around your waist), plus a t-shirt, which was painful ill-fitting, but it beat your laddered tights... Ana had gone home a couple of hours ago, her and Yoongi awkwardly saying goodbye to one another as you and Seokjin watched in amusement and then soon after that Yoongi slipped out, meeting his Aunt’s family for dinner.

Seokjin soon made use of an empty house... Right now you were stretched out on top of him, moulded against his body, your lips swollen and sticky from too much kissing. “Seokjin,” you whined lowly, needing to catch your breath.

He grunted, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your throat instead. “Mmm. You’ve made me hard again.”

You swore this man had bountiful amounts of energy. You were still a little stiff from last night (and this morning) but grinding down on his crotch like you couldn’t help it (you couldn’t) heat pooled between your legs. “Do you want to head to your room?”

He pulled his head back and grinned impishly. “I have a better idea. Sit on my face. Right here.” To emphasise his point he slapped your ass with both hands, bumping you into his crotch again.

“No way.”

He frowned instantly. “No way to the sofa? Or to face sitting in general?”

You let yourself think. It was mostly the sofa situation, but the idea of just blatantly sitting on his face did make you a little self-conscious... Then again, there wasn’t really a reason to feel nervous with Seokjin. “The sofa.” You decided.

His face lit up. “Ah, so you want to ride my face then. Dirty, dirty girl.” He wrapped his arms around you before his hands reached between your bodies to cup your boobs. You didn’t have a bra on, your nipples were so hard they practically stabbed him.

“Get off,” you grumbled, cheeks reddening as you struggled to free yourself. He was not getting a rise out of you. “Why do you want me to do it so much?”

He wrapped his arms around you again, but loosely this time, looking up at you as if you were stupid. “Because it’ll be fucking hot!”

You snorted, but you had to admit the way he was so enthusiastic about it was a major turn on.

“I’ve been imagining it ever since I ate you out at work.”

That too.

He squeezed you and leaned up to kiss your mouth. “Death by your pussy seems an excellent way to kick the proverbial bucket.”

You couldn’t help the smile that slowly grew on your face. “Would I go to jail for that?”

He audibly thought about it, humming loudly before he decided. “Second degree murder, I’d say.”

“Oh, my god,” you snorted.

“Are we doing this or not?” He whined. “Because now my I could knock a hole through the wall with my dick and I’m drooling.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You got turned on by the thought of me suffocating you with my pussy?”

“Eyy, she’s learning,” he grinned up at you. “I’ll get you to say cunt by the end of the year.”

“Not seriously you won’t.”

You reached for a kiss this time, his mouth dropping slightly so your tongue could meet his, and you clutched your fists to the top he wore – an evil purple and grey striped thing that stuck to the outline of his chest. You were done for.

Breaking away, his eyelids were heavy, voice all a deep, a serious whisper. “Sit that hot, wet cunt on my face, Y/N.”

“Stopppp,” you whined, whacking his chest and he huffed out before breaking into an annoying fit of giggles. You did not find him very funny. “Let’s go upstairs.”

He clung to you as you tried to get up. “Yoongi won’t be back yet. We’re safe.”

“But–

“You’re going to make me walk all the way upstairs with this in my pants. It’s weighting me down. I already did it once last night, it was exhausting.” He moaned.

He was so dramatic. But you didn’t need much convincing. “Fine.”

“Yes. Finally!” He exclaimed, letting you go so you were able to strip off from the waist down. You were like a woman possessed when it came to Seokjin, fighting with the drawstring of your borrowed sweatpants in a bid to get naked as fast as possible.

He took the time to reposition himself, resting his head against the arm of the couch for support. He watched you undress, eyes sweeping over your bare c-u-n-t, and he rushed you with his hands, gesturing you to climb aboard. “Sit that pussy right on my tastebuds, baby.”

“I am seriously questioning my life choices right now,” you told him as you moved, pausing as your legs straddled his chest.

He shrugged. “And yet you’re about to take a seat on this throne.”

“None of what you’re saying is making any sense.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “How do you get girls at all?”

His face fell serious. “Confession: I was a virgin before you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you scoffed, jumping when his hands cupped your bare ass, massaging warmth throughout your whole body, (and most importantly what laid between your legs).

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m way too good in the sack for that to be believable.”

Rolling your eyes you disagreed. “Way too full of yourself maybe...”

He chuckled but didn’t indulge you any further, nudging you forward. “Okay, enough talking, more sitting. Take this pretty face for a ride.”

Fighting back the urge to retort, you listened, straddling his shoulders, centimetres away from his face. You instinctively tried to obstruct his view, crouching over his body, which was pretty pointless. It did nothing.

“Don’t be shy,” he said, although his voice was softer that moments previous.

You relaxed, concentrating on the way one of his hands curved the round of your ass, giving it an instinctive squeeze. His other hand moved towards your inner thigh, spreading you apart so he could tilt his head towards your heat. He inhaled, a low groan of pleasure rumbling from his throat and you tensed up immediately. “Stop sniffing me, you pervert.”

He pulled back, all you could see were his eyes. “Says the one who’s groping me.”

Huh? It took you a moment to realise one of your arms was behind your back, hand cupping his junk on its own accord. You went to pull away but he objected.

“No, don’t take your hand away!” He took the opportunity to roll his hips into your palm, urging you to continue. He was painfully solid, you could feel him perfectly over his sweatpants. You could feel his breath against your core and it was quickly becoming torture.

“Okay, Seokjin, come on!” You pressed suddenly. How come you were doing all the pleasuring? “You practically begged me to sit on your face and you’re not even doing anything!”

“Patience,” he chuckled, his hot breath tickling you as he exhaled. “Besides, maybe I want to make you beg for it...”

You would not beg. Nuh uh. Let this turn into a stand-off if needed. However as luck would have it, he was feeling impatient too, and not even a couple of seconds later he had a face full of vagina, his tongue curling out to spread your folds. It felt good, don’t get you wrong, but you couldn’t stop yourself from looking out of the window. You were not alone alone. If that made sense.

“This is so wrong,” you whispered, voice quivering when his lips dragged along your clit, breaking away from your wet heat to look up at you. You couldn’t see his mouth, but the tip of his nose glistened with your arousal.

“What is?” He asked, confused.

“What if someone can see in?” Ten seconds ago a man with his dog had walked along the sidewalk.

“Unless they walk into the yard and press their face up against the window at the exact, painfully awkward angle to look through the shutters, I think we’re safe.” He sounded impatient and you guessed he had a point... You were safe. Nobody could see you sitting on Seokjin’s face.

“Now move a little,” he told you, pushing you forward by the ass, disappearing once again. “Make a mess of me, baby, I don’t care. I want to get dirty.”

You mean, you couldn’t really say no to that... Could you? Not when he was so eager and willing. So you started grinding. You still felt a little awkward at first, the position way too intimate to what you were used to, but with the low groans escaping Seokjin’s throat your confidence soon grew, encouraged to chase your high.

You bunched your borrowed t-shirt up in one fist, eager to see what was going on down there and as Seokjin suctioned his lips around your clit his eyes snapped up to yours. You moaned loudly, turned on by the visual, your hips rolling involuntary.

God, you needed to touch him again. Eagerly, you leaned back a little, your ass settled against his palms as you still attempted to jerk into his mouth, tongue now busy flicking against your clit. You were still moaning, your fingers slipping in his sweatpants from behind, feeling the warmth of his hard cock. He grunted, lifting his hips up eagerly and you immediately started jerking him off. The angle was shit, your grip and rhythm uneven but it seemed to do the trick as he groaned against you. The vibrations were something else, and unable to stop yourself, you reached for the back of his head with the hand that had been clutching the t-shirt.

You attempted to hold him there, rolling your hips all over him despite how messy it was turning. You were very wet by now – both your doing – so the squelching noises just added fuel to the fire. This was fucking sinful but so, so addictive.

“Ngnnn. Seokjin–!” You cried, unable to keep jerking him off with the amount of pleasure coursing through your body. You were getting distracted, greedy for the inevitable.

“Pleaseee.” Your mouth was also running away with you, begging shamelessly.

Seokjin grunted, no time for words as he pushed his face further into your heat (if that was possible), neck strained as he tried to meet your angle, veins hard and prominent. He was so fucking hot it was unfair.

“Oh, my... shit, oh.” You couldn’t keep up with the rapid flick of his tongue, chest heaving as you panted. Who cared about the window now that your orgasm was nigh? Not you! Just a little bit more and you’d cum. You gripped the roots of his hair, readying yourself. He moaned loudly, loving it.

A... little... bit... more...

The moan that ripped from your throat signalled the beginning of the end, your whole body tensing as you teetered over the edge. “Yes, yesss, Seokjin, I’m, nghh–!” You cried, voice breaking as pleasure exploded throughout your body, every nerve feeling alive.

You rode his tongue until you couldn’t take any more, ripping away from him to fall back on his stomach, still panting like crazy. Sitting up slightly, he rubbed the back of his neck. “You did not make that easy at all. I’m sure I pulled a fucking muscle.”

“Quit being a baby,” you chided. After all, he was the one that had practically begged you to sit on his face. (Not that there’d been much sitting...)

He looked fucked out, cheeks rosy, smeared in your arousal, lips plumper than usual and the tips of his dark fringe were wet and curled. He looked insanely kissable, but before you could think to act, he was talking.

“Care to help?”

You frowned, unsure what he was going on about, until you felt his arm move against your hip. You looked over your shoulder, seeing his hand in his pants, the motion of the fabric moving up and down making it very obvious what he was busy doing...

“Or are you just gonna watch me give myself a hand job?”

Now that sounded fun...

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:final sleigh #final sleigh:drabbles

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