#that shit will have you drowning in sweat the moment you step outside your house
Text
Under The Floorboards pt. IIII
(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V
Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down.
“Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?”
The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place.
“Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”
“(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.
“How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side.
“I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”
“Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him.
“That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you.
Jackass.
“Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you.
“Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”
“Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention.
“I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.”
Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”
“Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him.
“Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.” The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously,
“Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear.
Technoblade was going to lose his shit.
---
All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you.
“That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull,
“What Tommy?”
“Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable.
“T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head:
‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’
Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword.
Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.
A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid.
“Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him.
‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’
Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.
“What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken.
“The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied.
“That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?”
“What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down.
“I’m single.”
“Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist.
“Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly.
“Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you,
“See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully.
“She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft”
“Not brothers and I don’t like him.”
“Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly.
Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug.
“(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms.
“Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.”
“Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?”
“I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.”
“WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!”
“Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay.
All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.
~~~
I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨
#dream smp#dreamsmp x reader#technoblade x reader#technoblade x you#mcyt x you#mcyt x reader#mcyt#minecraft fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#blood for the blood god#rp
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Neo Got My Back (Jaehyun x reader)
a/n : a domestic Jaehyun fluff scenario!
enjoy! you all deserve a ( good bed time) story.. though I hope this is good enough..
warning : mentions of past incident of almost dying but nah you lived :D, some slight cursing
tagging @yutahoes who might like this domestic jaehyun and ofc @neopalette
--- here goes nothing ----
It’s starting to get dark outside and your house still feels empty. You walk around the small room holding your phone while checking if there is any new message or a call. It’s been a long day for you to finish your works and take care of your dog that’s feeling a bit under the weather. You give up waiting for a reply and choose to just leave your phone and take care of your sick dog.
“Neo, come here.” You make yourself comfortable on the floor and pat your lap as the small Labrador walks slowly to you.
“Aw look at you, you’re still sick but feeling better?” you ask when the good boy wags its tail
“Are you excited to meet daddy?” you coo at your pal and he licks your cheek. You giggle and kiss him back “I also miss Jaehyun, don’t worry he is coming home tonight.”
Your dog seems to understand what you said, maybe its because he heard Jaehyun and home in one sentence and your tone sounds happy. If you are happy, then Neo is happy.
“Let’s try to eat some more, you’re not eating as much as usual and I don’t find that settling.” You reach on the dog food you’ve prepared before hand and try to feed Neo.
He eats, but without much energy. You’re sad actually to see him acting like this, at night he also whimpers some soft painful growl. You’re planning to take him to the vet if he’s whimpering again tonight.
“Are you sick or are you just acting up to see Jaehyun?” you tease your Labrador, who once were caught acting sick just to bring Jaehyun home. Jaehyun loves Neo to the point where he is willing to drop his business to come and hug this good boy. Maybe it’s because Neo once saved your life.
You told Jaehyun about the story where Neo saved you from almost drowning in the beach when you were a teenager. Since then, Jaehyun’s love to Neo sort of jumps over the moon. He said he ought Neo everything because thanks to Neo he got to meet you.
Your dog finishes his dinner and proceed to lay on his bed to sleep, maybe he is not feeling well. You put your worry aside and grab your phone again, checking if Jaehyun actually replied your message or called you.
Nothing. No messages, no calls. He must be busy in the office, you thought to yourself. Trying your best to stay calm and think of positive things. You trust Jaehyun, he won’t be home late for any other reasons other than caught up with work or stuck in the road.
Jaehyun sighs and glances on his watch again. It’s already one hour past his regular go home time and his phone battery died the moment he was about to tell you he will be home late.
Well the project he is working on this month has a change on the product launching date, so the team has to rush things up and make sure they’re ready for the launching next week.
His attempt to stay calm with tuning into his favorite radio channel fails. Not even his music playlist can calm him down. He knows you’re probably worried something bad happens to him without news or update from him to you and that is not settling in his heart.
“I am so sorrryyyy..” he mutters to himself when he sees the red lights and rows of cars all crawling in the night street. Why must the road be congested today?
He made it into your neighborhood and at that moment he realized something.
“Shit, I forgot to download the Netflix movie she wanted to watch.” Jaehyun internally curses himself. Works really preoccupied his mind to the point where he forgot. Well he hopes you won’t be mad and just let him download it for awhile to avoid pauses.
The lift ride to your room is not helping. With the lift keeps on stopping on different floor, he has to hold his patience and not cry in there when the door once again opens and he’s still halfway to your floor.
The man with a nice fitted suit finally steps out of the crowded lift. His face shows how tired he is, but the smile he has in his face upon imagining the face of his lover and faithful pal is bright enough.
Jaehyun takes a deep breath when he presses the six-digit combination lock to your home and once he presses the handle down, all of his exhaustion seems to leave his shoulder.
The familiar scent of your favorite aroma therapy candle greets him. Slowly Jaehyun takes off his shoes and when he did not see you or get a surprising jump from you, he knows you’re probably in your room doing works or maybe playing with Neo.
His steps resonate through the room, first the kitchen looks bright with a nice simple dinner nicely arranged on the table. Though it’s no longer steaming, Jaehyun can feel his stomach rumbles.
“(Y/n)?” he calls your name slowly after putting his working bag and suit aside. His hand unties his tie as he uncuffs his buttons and walk to look for you.
“Oh you’re asleep?” he talks to himself in whispers when he finds you laying down sleeping on the sofa with Neo cuddled next to you, despite the lack of space!
Gently he tucks your hair aside from your face and leans in to kiss your forehead. “Sorry for being home late.”
You twist in your sleep and slowly open your eyes. Blinking your sleep away and gathering your energy to process what is this. Is this a dream or is this Jaehyun?
Your hand reach out to touch his cheeks and when you feel it you smile. “Hello love,” you yawn and hug his torso.
“I haven’t showered or changed.” he runs a hand on your hair and the other free hand is already rubbing Neo’s chin.
“It’s okay, you can shower later.” You mumble as you bury your face into his torso.
“Have you eaten?” you ask, definitely knowing he hasn’t eaten yet.
He nods “I am hungry.”
“I can heat the food for you. Take a bath quick.” You push him to the toilet. He laughs and ruffles your hair before leaving to take his towel and clothes.
You bring Neo with you to the kitchen, and start to heat the food again.
Seeing Jaehyun still try his best to smile in front of you despite his stress and tiring job, makes you feel grateful and that the only way you can pay him back is by giving him the attention and cares he deserves.
He returns with a brighter face and a comfortable tee shirt and sweats. You’re done with heating the foods and so you join him sitting on the other end of the table as you scoop him some foods into his plate.
“Thank you, you cooked this?” he asks while taking small bites on the foods. Knowing his best to not expect too much when you are a terrible cook.
You bite your lips “I tried a receipt from Taeyong’s website.” You look up at him with expectations, couldn’t be that bad right? You’ve been practicing for a while. Jaehyun nods and eats more “I guess you improved?” he chuckles when you let out a delightful clap
“I am glad!” you grin. “I am ready to be your housewife.” You tease him.
He giggles and reaches out for more kimchi “Who made this kimchi? So good.”
You roll your eyes “Mom.”
“Ah, learn from her first to make this good kimchi, then you can marry me.” He playfully pokes your cheek and you pout at him “You hold your words. If I succeed making that kimchi, you’re marrying me.”
He flashes his ring finger to you, the one with a couple promise ring he has with you and winks “I am more than ready to change this ring into a diamond one.”
You blush “Keep your words okay. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He nods “I am. I am going to keep my words. Right Neo? You are our witness.”
The dog barks and stays under the table accompanying the warm night both of you spend together.
“About not replying to your text, I am sorry my phone died, and I don’t bring my charger with me today.” He brushes his hair away from his eyes.
You nod “I knew it, you and your hobby of running out of batteries. I’m just afraid something bad happens.”
“No, don’t worry. It’s just we had to take over time to finish a project for next week. Sorry to keep you waiting.” He raises from the chair and brings his plates to the dish.
You quickly keep the remaining foods into the refrigerator while Jaehyun takes the gloves and starts to wash the sink.
“Ow poor you, did you finish it? Things are okay?” you lean on the counter next to him.
“Yes, I can go home because I finished my parts.”
“Good then,” you pat his shoulder “You must be tired, let’s-“
He cuts you in “About Netflix-“ he takes a sharp pause “I am so sorry we have to postpone watching A Whisker Away, I haven’t downloaded it yet.”
You smile and rubs his shoulder “Don’t worry, the film is not going to disappear! Let’s rest instead. You had a long day and I want to cuddle with you.”
Jaehyun smiles and jumps into your side, he hugs you and pulls the cover over you both “Okay, cuddle it is then! Come here, let me hug you until you beg me to stop.” He peppers you with raspberry kisses on your neck and arm and you giggle loudly.
“love you Jae!” you kiss him quick to which the other man smiles and kisses you back “And I love you most.”
end
#multifandomnet#jaehyun x y/n#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun x you#jaehyun soft hours#jaehyun scenarios#jaehyun oneshot#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun fanfic#yoonoh fluff#yoonoh#jung yoonoh#jung jaehyun x reader#jung jaehyun fluff#jung jaehyun x you#jung jaehyun x y/n#jaehyun#nct flirt line#nct fluff#nct scenarios#nct oneshot#nct soft imagines#nct imagines
133 notes
·
View notes
Text
Homebody (Ch.6)
Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...
youtube
Sidenote: I’ve been hooked on this song and feel like it fits the vibe for this chapter but it is optional to listen to...enjoy!
Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC
Warning: Language, smoking, freaky thangs..
Erik glanced at the digital clock in his car. It was almost four in the morning. The job was done and with the help of Cane they were able to get out of there in one piece. Shaking his head he laughed to himself. He still couldn’t believe it when he saw Alexis with Shawn.
It wasn’t hard to believe but it did fuck him up a bit. In reality Erik didn’t know why he was surprised. After getting to know about Alexis he knew she was always chasing the next bag. Even if it meant coming up off of another nigga.
Out of the nine months they messed around she was always the one pressing him to take their relationship to the next step. She was the one that tried to tie their names together in the streets. It was always her putting forth the effort. Then it was shit like what he saw tonight that had cause Erik to have trust issues.
But was that something he could even judge her for? Of course not. He didn’t put a title on her and vice versa. All this did was make him come to the realization that she was never down for him. Only what he could do for her.
With all of these ideas going through his head the last thing Erik wanted to do was be alone. His mind was filling up with negative thoughts. Mainly about how the situation could’ve went bad if he would have acted on his feelings. Erik’s mood switched and he wanted to see the one person who he knew could change that.
Hoping she picked up,Erik sat nervously as the other end of the phone began to ring. If she didn’t answer he would have no other choice but to drown himself in a few blunts and a fifth of Hennessy.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello.” Her soft voice came through the speaker. It sounded like she was wide awake.
He relaxed in his seat feeling a relief. “What you still doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. What about you? Everything okay?”
Erik could hear the worry in her tone. He half smiled. That was something she always did, she cared about him.
“Yeah I’m good.” He paused. “Listen I know this might be a stretch but do you think you could sneak out pass your brother and come meet me. I know it sounds-“ Erik was rambling. Something he never did.
Amiyah cut him off with a light giggle. “Erik I could meet up with you. I’m not at my apartment I’m staying with a friend.”
Erik’s brows drew together with a slight look of confusion. It was four in the morning and she wasn’t home. That was the first Erik ever heard of knowing how his friend is about his sister. But he didn’t ponder over the thought.
“Okay well send me the address and I’ll pull up.” He put her on speaker waiting for her to reply as he pulled up the gps on his phone.
“65 Lafayette Ave.” Amiyah answered with a controlled smile. Not wanting to seem eager to see him.
It was a fifteen minute drive from where Erik was.
“Alright I’ll call you when I’m there.”
“Okay, see you Erik.”
“Aight mamas.”
Amiyah jumped off the couch and crept to her friends bathroom. Turning on the light she saw her appearance and immediately cringed. Her eyes were still red and puffy from her tears. Face covered in faint runny eye liner. Her hair was fuzzy and wild. She was in no condition to go see Erik the way she looked.
Grabbing a face cloth from her friends cabinet she ran it under warm water before sitting it on her face and letting it rest against her skin. Amiyah sighed at the sensation. Wiping her face she made sure she got every inch of coverage before she checked other areas of her body to make sure she smelled fresh.
She gave her hair a few pass overs with a brush to make it at least somewhat presentable. Glancing over herself in the mirror she felt satisfied and exited the bathroom. Going back to the couch she was crashing on she put on a white tank top and paired it with a pair of grey sweats. Throwing a jean jacket on she slipped on her UGG slippers and waited silently.
When her phone rung this early in the morning she thought it would be her brother calling to apologize but instead it was Erik. She knew for sure it was her mind playing tricks on her but when she answered and heard his voice butterflies filled her stomach. After the date Amiyah figured she had to wait until she seen him in person again to make contact with him but when he called asking her to hangout this later she couldn’t decline.
It wasn’t too long before her phone lit up with a text notification. Erik was letting her know that he was waiting for her outside. Getting up and checking her face one last time by the mirror Kelley had next to the front door she flipped her hair over her shoulder and snuck out the front door. When she got on the porch she seen his Infinity waiting in the middle of the street unbothered with any traffic coming through.
She watched as he got out but stayed by his vehicle. Doing a quick glance over at his face Amiyah noticed the stress in his eyes. It was as if they were filled with the emotion of hurt. No wonder he called asking to see her this late. He needed comfort. Walking up to him she went straight for a hug. The way he taught her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he did her waist.
Amiyah felt him breathe out an air of ease. His body slouching over on hers and she would let him as long as he wanted just to take away his troubles. She closed her eyes as they quietly embraced each other’s body. It was a comfortable silence. From the way they held on to each other it was obvious that they very much missed one another.
“Why you so good to me ma?” Erik whispered in her ear not letting her out of his hold yet.
Speaking truthfully in their current position of vulnerability she replied. “Because I care about you. I want you to be happy.”
Erik closed his eyes hearing the words escape from her mouth. She was making it hard for him to keep up with his ‘not trusting women’ demeanor. The way she was holding onto his body had him rethinking himself. Her nails grazing lightly on the back of his neck was driving him insane. She knew all the right things to say and do to him without even trying.
Amiyah had him open whenever they were together and she didn’t even know it. Erik finally released her body. Now staring down at her soft round face he couldn’t help himself. Dragging his hands over her love handles he pulled her towards him as bent down giving her two pecks on her lips softly. Her arms still wrapped around his neck. When Erik pulled away he seen that her eyes were still shut. Biting his bottom lip he went back in giving her a full kiss this time with a slight pull on her lower lip every now and then.
Feeling himself in the moment his hands traveled resting above her ass. Not wanting to disrespect her he asked in between indulging in her lips and taking breaks to get air for her permission.
“Can..I..touch..it?” His voice spoke lowly between pecks.
Amiyah nodded while she brought her left hand down to his cheek. She was getting better since their last kiss and her body was becoming more comfortable with his.
Seeing that she didn’t deny him access his hands continued their adventure further south. When his hands finally reached the bottom of her soft flesh he cuffed and squeezed each cheek firmly before caressing it to soothe the slight pain he may have caused.
Amiyah moaned in his mouth from the feeling. It was the first time she was ever been touched like that by a man down there. His hands felt rough but soft at the same time. The way he would grip each ass cheek and pulling on them she felt her second pair of lips separate from the action. But it was the way he rubbed it after he squeezed them that made her drip with anticipation.
Pulling away from each other they were able to get some air. By this time Erik was ready to devour her and make her body shake beneath his but he knew she wasn’t ready for that yet. She wouldn’t know how to act or what to do if he gave her what his body was craving to do to her. Feeling his dick on semi-hard he shifted himself. All of this just from kissing and touching on her. Erik wanted her bad.
“Let’s go get out of here?” His voice broke the sexual tension.
Timid and nervously looking back at her friends house she turned to face him.” To go where?”
Erik shrugged his shoulders.” I don’t know I’ll find something. Just ride with me.” He spoke before he could think finding himself doing something he thought he would never do.” Please.” He begged.
Biting her lip to hold back her smile she nodded as her hands fell from around his neck but not before getting a feel of his sturdy hard abs through his shirt. Erik felt the slick action and smirked.
“Aight let’s go.” He kissed her one last time and then patted her butt and walked her to the passenger side. He opened her door and watched as she got in safely.
Inside the car they rode around with nothing but Erik’s playlist playing lowly in the background. Amiyah’s hand rested in his right hand as his left hand gripped the steering wheel driving. Every other minute Erik would bring the back of her hand up his lips and kiss it while still paying attention to the road. No matter how many times he done it Amiyah would blush every single time. If she was lighter you would definitely see the redness in her face.
It was about twenty minutes later when Erik found a secluded area underneath the highway bridge . Around them was nothing but empty parked construction trucks and signs to let people know that work was getting done. Nearby that was a small basketball court where some of the city kids would play on. Then there was the lights from the bridge above that gave them somewhat of a illumination in the car.
Shutting the car off Erik leaned his seat back with his electric lever before resting against it. His fingers still intertwined with Amiyah’s. He watched as she did everything but look in his direction. Erik could read her body language and see that she was nervous. His thumb stroke the back of her hand to give her some reassurance.
“You okay?” He asked softly.
“Yeah. I’m good.” She gazed down in her lap before making eye contact.
Amiyah was nervous. How could she not be with her being in a closed off area with a man as fine as Erik sitting next to her holding her hand. He was touching her so tenderly. Her body reacted to each stroke of his fingers.
“Miyah if you not comfortable don’t ever hesitate to tell me. I care more about your security in your safety than me wanting to chill with you.” His unselfish nature was revealing itself with every word.
She smiled at his kindness. “I feel safe with you. It’s just some times you make me nervous.” She replied picking at the imaginary cotton lint on her sweats.
His lips curled into a smile. “Why I make you nervous?” He asked as his free hand swiped down his waves repeatedly.
Rolling her eyes Amiyah knew this question was coming next. He knew exactly how he made her nervous. The evidence clear in how her body react to him.
“I don’t know maybe it’s the way you look at me.”
There was something about being alone in this car with him that made Amiyah real honest.
His eyes danced up and down her body. Amiyah caught the gesture.
Smacking her lips. “See it’s you doing stuff like that.” She blurted out with a straight face.
He gripped her hand lightly when she made him laugh. To Erik most of the women he been with in the past was either too serious or boring but with Amiyah she was always able to get a smile out of him. From any tiny thing she did naturally it made him laugh or at least get him to smile.
“I mean I could think of something that might have you relaxed a little bit but I’m not sure you even mess with that type of shit.”
She looked at him confused.” What you mean?”
“You smoke?” He asked bluntly.
She laughed. “I’ve done it a few times when Durk wasn’t around but I’m no pro.”
Erik nodded his head head releasing her hand as he went to his middle compartment pulling out his stash. He needed a blunt after today and the one that he already had rolled up wasn’t going to do him enough justice. Taking out the one that was pre-rolled he handed it to her.
“Hold that.”
She grabbed it bringing it to her nose smell the rolled plant. Amiyah liked the way this weed smell. It wasn’t overpowering like the one Durk usually had. She observed the blunt giggling about how fat it was.
“Why is it so big?” She asked laughing.
“What the blunt or something else?” His lips smirked.
Amiyah figured she walked herself into that one. She rolled her eyes.
“No I’m just messing with you that’s just how I like mine. Can’t be fucking with no skimpy blunts now.” He smiled. Over in his seat he was rolling up two more.
After getting them rolled he grabbed his lighter from his cup holder and sparked it up. Taking a deep pull with his lips he allowed the smoke to invade his lungs for five slow seconds before exhaling. His body leaned back becoming relaxed.
Amiyah watched as he took another. He looked so good right now in his most laidback state. One hand behind his head and the other holding the blunt to his lips. She bit her lip as the smoke filled up the car. She was already feeling a contact high.
He handed over the lit blunt and watch her grasp it with the end of her nails. Erik smiled as he sat quietly watching her switch the blunt between both hands trying to get comfortable with it.
“Don’t burn my weed out.” He joked.
“Shut up Erik.” Amiyah giggled taking her first hit.
Coughing she realized she hit it too hard. Turning towards her window her balled up fist went up to her mouth as she coughed her lungs out before smacking on her chest. She handed the blunt back to Erik who was laughing.
“You good?”
She shook her head and cough one last time. Her eyes watering a bit from all of the straining.
“Damn I should’ve warned you first. My bad baby.” His hand went to her back and rubbed it.
Amiyah was already feeling high. If it wasn’t from the huge hit she took than it definitely had to be from the gas that filled the car. Her baby lungs not used to the intoxicating aroma easily gave in. She expected that to happen but she didn’t expect for her pussy to become wet. The last few times she smoked alone it just gave her a quick high and the munchies. This was different. She could feel her pussy drip and become sticky as she squirmed around in her seat trying to hide it.
The blunt found its way back to Erik’s lips. His eyes began to get lower with every hit that he took from it. He wasn’t his highest but he felt his body getting comfortable. His leg slightly rocking from side to side. He watched her body respond to the weed. She was already gone and he knew it. Erik seen her squirm in the seat and watch her thighs clenched together.
“This shit make you wanna fuck, don’t it?” No longer responsible for the words coming out of his mouth he let the burning ashes fall into the ashtray. He started up the second blunt.
Amiyah surprised from his statement but turned on at the same time giggled as her boldness level went up the more intoxicated she became.
“Something like that.” She stared in his low eyes with hers.
She was becoming brave. Her mouth was definitely trying to write a check she couldn’t cash. Even though she never had sex before Amiyah still knew what it felt like to be horny. Her body was craving for him touch her and hold her the way he did a while ago when they were outside. Amiyah wanted his big hands rubbing on her booty the way they did before.
Erik sucked in his bottom lip. His deep dimples showed from the action. She was testing him. Erik was definitely pressed from the way she was looking at him. He knew that there was no way he could fuck her in his car. But he wanted to badly. He wanted to have her dripping cum right on his leather seats. He wanted to watch her tremble and moan as he stretched her tight pussy out pinning her down by her thick thighs giving her what she thought she could handle. Erik longed to dig deep in the pussy as he hit the spots that’ll make her cry and gave her no choice but to come back to him every time she desired for them to be touched.
Taking a pull from the second blunt he returned the gaze. The smoke leaving his lips going into the direction of her face. He watched her bite her lip.
“You lookin like you wanna do something now.” He had to start applying some pressure to put her back in her place.
Shyly looking out the windshield Amiyah laughed. The weed was making her extra giggly for no reason. But she couldn’t deny that how she was feeling was from her own lust as well. She felt a warm hand grab her by the chin turning her head back in her previous direction. Erik was looking at her waiting for to respond.
“Maybe I do.” She replied with her eyes shifting down to the bulge in his black joggers she noticed a while ago. She was no longer playing it safe.
Erik’s hooded eyes followed hers. He smirked. The hand that was holding her chin swiftly went to her throat. He massaged the flesh delicately. He couldn’t help it, grabbing a woman’s neck became a kink of his not to long ago. The way that they would instantly get wet and go into submissive mode turned him on and Erik could easily tell that she was one of those that got turned on by it as well.
Amiyah felt her pussy throbbing. His hand around her like that made her panties moist. She loved it most when he gripped giving her a light squeeze. Her nipples hardening poking through her shirt as she moaned.
“Get in the backseat then.” He released her.
Her eyes gave a quick glance towards the back before looking at him.
“Now?” She breathed out heavily.
“You scared mama?” He teased her softly.
Sending him a ‘yeah right’ look she climbed to the back. Taking off her jean jacket she sat it in the front before she folded her arms resting her back against the chair.
Erik watched through the rear view mirror. He was actually surprised that she had the courage to go back there. Taking the last blunt and lighter he got out the car and opened the back door slipping inside. Putting the objects in his hand in the pouch behind the driver seat he took off his hoodie revealing a black wifebeater shirt.
Amiyah sitting on the opposite side calmed her nerves. She mentally thank God that she shaved down there two nights before. She did not want the first time she allowed a man to see her down there to be met with a bush. There was nothing wrong with having hair but she would have been insecure about it.
After getting settled Erik turned his body sideways. He reached behind him locking the door as he leaned against it.
“C’mere.”
Nervous but eager Amiyah shimmied her way to his side. His hands helping her out guiding her to sit down on his lap facing him. He gripped on her thigh throwing it over his legs so she can straddling him and had the other hanging off the seat. Not wanting to put all of her weight on him Amiyah put the pressure on her legs.
Erik sensed this. He opened her legs wider which caused her to sit on him fully. An inward growl went through his lips as he felt the weight from her ass sitting on his heavy member.
“Erik I’m too heavy.” She complained.
“You think I’m worried about that?” His voice dripping with lust as he attacked her neck.
Erik’s hands went to groping her body. He kissed and sucked until he discovered the spot that made her body shudder. It was under her jaw line. He stayed there sucking on the area leaving a mark not giving a damn about her brother being able to see it later.
Amiyah’s wide hips wiggle around on top of him as she threw her head back giving him better access. Hormones going out of control she couldn’t stop her hands from traveling to his print as she gripped it firmly.
Erik’s body jumped as he grabbed her hand taking it off his dick. He pulled his lips from her neck to observe her. The way she tried to put her hand back on him she looked anxious for some way to release the sexual adrenaline taking over her body. Erik chuckled as he held her wrists strongly.
“Damn baby you can’t be gripping my dick like you tryna snatch that shit off my body.” His voice now raspy from the smoke session.
Embarrassed, Amiyah bent her head down hiding it in his neck. Of course she would grip him too hard. She didn’t know what she was doing. Trying to not seem like the amateur she was ended up having her looking stupid. The moment was ruined.
“I’m sorry.” She mumbled.
“Here I got an idea. Turn around.” He rubbed her back waiting on her to move.
Following his command she changed her body to go the other way. She was now sitting between his legs with her back against his chest. Thankfully his seats were big enough to hold the both of them comfortably in that position.
Amiyah felt his fingers tug at the hem of her sweats. Questionably glancing at him she wondered what he was about to do to her next.
“You trust me?” Erik asked with his face next to hers.
“Yeah.”
“Then lift up and take these off.” He tugged again.
Hesitant Amiyah allowed him to pull the clothing down with her help kicking them off her ankles. Now she was exposed. In nothing but her tank top and black cotton hipster panties she felt the air brush over her thighs. Feeling her high start to come down she requested to start a new rotation.
“Can we light the last one?”
“It’s in there.” Erik pointed to the pouch where he put the lighter and the blunt in.
Reaching inside she felt around before she retrieved it. As she lit the blunt she felt Erik kiss on her neck and rub on her thighs. His full lips making her moan and rest her body on his. Taking a hit from the weed with ease this time she was able to inhale it much smoother. Her lungs filled up as it brought her back to cloud nine.
“Here you go.” She passed it to him but he didn’t take it with his hands. Erik leaned forward and let her place it in his mouth. Holding it for him as he took a few pulls she studied the way he did it and then proceeded to copy him when it was her turn. The rotation went like that before it was finished.
Erik fondled her thick thighs. Starting on the outside and working his way to the inner where her warmth resided. She laid her hands on top of his to have some sort of control but Erik didn’t like that. He knew what he was doing and didn’t need any help.
“Move ya hand.” His voice barked.
Her hands left as quickly as they met his.
“Don’t touch anything unless I tell you to. You hear me?”
“Okay.” Shakiness in her voice as her breathing picked up.
“Okay what?” He gripped underneath her knees pulling her thighs apart roughly.
“Okay Erik.”
“Un uh. It’s daddy when it’s just me and you from now on.” His lips tickled her ears as he spoke giving her future reference.
“Kay, daddy.” She moaned.
Amiyah closed her eyes. Her body kept squirming around. She was waiting and anticipated on getting her body played with. When her legs opened she felt the cool air reach her damp underwear.
Looking down between her legs he bit his lip seeing her phat pussy showing through her panties. The lower lips spilling out on the sides as the damp wet stain sat from her natural essence. His hands gripped and rubbed the inner thigh area that was closest to her treasure as he asked for her permission once again.
“Can daddy play in this pussy?”
Her wet lips parted. Amiyah nodded her head that was leaning back in his shoulder. Yearning his touch and super horny out of her mind she’d allow him to do whatever he wanted to her.
“Yes daddy.” Her voice was as soft as angel.
Hearing her words of confirmation Erik’s hand introduced itself to her pussy for the first time. He cupped the area. Her covered mound was giving off a heat that let him know that she was ready. His fingers grazed up and down the thick slit which caused her body to jerk. He did this repeatedly to make her aroused.
“Phat ass pussy.” We’re the only words that escaped his lips as it left him mesmerized. She was the first female he been with that had one so full and healthy. It felt amazing on his hand even if he wasn’t touching it quite yet.
Pulling the black piece of cloth to the side Erik revealed her vulva that was covered in her natural juices. Taking his fingers he used her lubricant swiping up and down the slit feeling her body tense up.
“Relax mama.” He kissed behind her ear as he held her in place with his left arm.
Bringing his other arm around her he reached down spreading the thick lips as a clear string of liquid appeared when the flesh pulled apart. This was a different type of wetness he was experiencing at the moment. Taking the pad of his middle finger of his free hand he patted on the bud that was now hardened.
Amiyah’s hips jerk from the sensation. Her hand clutched his forearm to stop him, keeping the foreign feeling from over taking her body. Her legs moving around as she scooted into his chest.
“Don’t you play with this pussy when you alone?” He asked as his finger tips teased the areas around her clit.
“Yes.” Eyes still closed with her hands gripping his arms as she felt every stroke of his hand.
“Yes, what?” He corrected her.
Sucking in her bottom lip. “Yes, daddy.”
“Then let me have a turn.” One of his hands grasped her fupa affectionately pulling her body into his to make her relax.
Whe she laid back Erik was able to get a better view. He spread the lips open once more. Massaging her clit lightly in a circular motion with his pointy and middle fingers. He watch her thrust her hips on his hand to feel more. Keeping up with his movements he pressed down firmly stimulating the bud before he let a finger enter her tight wet opening. Giving a low groan he drew in his top lip when he felt her grip him him from the intrusion. The pussy was too tight.
“Damn you ain’t been letting nobody up in this huh?” He cooed in her ear pushing further with a single finger going deeper.
“Unh Uh.” Amiyah whimpered out snapping her thighs closed when she felt him slip inside her.
He took the hand that wasn’t trapped between her legs and opened them. Bringing it up to her chin he made her look him in the eye. “Ima go slow..ight.”
Amiyah nervously agreed. There was plenty of times where she masturbated but she never fingered herself only clitorial stimulation. So when she felt Erik push his finger inside her, her body reacted by closing her legs. It was strange feeling but it made her wetter.
Erik didn’t waste no time as he warmed her up by playing with her clit. He wanted to make sure she was as wet as possible before she experienced any penetration so he continued to rub her there. Bringing his fingers up to her breast he flicked her nipples with his thumb through her tank top to help her climax.
The combination had Amiyah’s chest heaving up and down. She was close and ready to cum. The pressure he applied on her clit felt so good. Her hand reached for the seat clawing the material as she let him make her body come undone. Her mouth opened as her pants and whimpers became audible.
“Daddyy...I’m cumin.” She whimpered softly backing away from the stimulation.
Erik followed not letting up on her. “Lemme see you cum then. Pretty ass.” He kissed her blocking out her moans.
Amiyah’s body shook as she felt his lips. She came right there. Essence dripping down on the seat in front of her. It was like a domino effect. He controlled her body. Her clit was now sensitive but Erik continued to knead the button. Whenever she played with herself she able to get one and that’s it. She never tried to do more than that but Erik was pushing her for another.
“I want another one and then I’m done.”
His eyes were still red and low from the weed. When she came on his fingers Erik was captivated from the sight. The way her lips parted. How she grasped onto the seats searching for something to hold on to. It made his body heat up with excitement knowing that he did that. Every little thing he observed had him becoming fascinated with her.
This time he wanted to make her cum a different way. His middle finger danced around her hole making sure it was coated from her wetness before he pushed inside her tight puss. Erik felt her clench on his finger as he gently massaged her walls. Every time he would pull out she would suck him back in. He watched her face contort no longer able to control herself.
“Mm this shit tight.” He groaned affirmations in her ear as his finger stroked her at a steady pace.
When the words left his mouth Amiyah glanced down to witness his assault on her pussy. Her body was aching for more. The in and out motion with just a single digit wasn’t enough. Her pussy wanted to be stretched.
“More.” She pleaded spreading her legs wider.
“You sure?” Erik asked wanting her to be certain.
“Yess.” Amiyah stuttered.
Drawing his fingers up to lips he opened his mouth tasting her sweet juices. Erik bit his lip feeling a strong urge to bend her over and eat her from behind. But right now it was about her. He had her body feeling good and he wanted to keep it that way.
After getting his fingers soaked he placed them back in front of her pussy. Taking his time he slowly thrusted both his middle and ring finger in stretching her creamy hole.She was so wet a sloshing sound came from her opening. Her jaw dropped as he filled her up. His thick fingers moving in and out. When he felt the spongy area at the top he swiped back and forth against it using the ‘ come here’ motion.
Her hips doing the same as before began to scoot back away from the sensation. Erik holding her by her waist kept her still.
“Stop runnin and put that pussy on me.” Lips sucking on her neck creating another passion mark as his deep voice muttered.
She was running. From the minute Amiyah felt him tapping on that spot that she didn’t know was there she wanted to escape his hold. His strong hand kept her spread eagle by her knee making her take the pleasure he was giving to her. Feeling her legs shake from his repeated tender abuse she grabbed his hand. Her belly began to tighten and cramp. Soon the vibrations she felt on her lower half traveled throughout her whole body. She was convulsing on his fingers.
“Fuckk.” The profanity spewed out her mouth for the first time as she squirted on the seat.
Erik continued attacking her g-spot before she aggressively pushed his hand away. Laughing he saw her shaking her head while her hands went to her thighs to try and stop them from trembling. Her breast moving up and down from her rough breathing as she finally spoke.
“No more.” Her voice quivered.
Erik’s low chuckled filled the vehicle . “You done mama?”
Quickly nodded her head she cover her pussy with her panties and moved to the other side of the car. She was sensitive and overstimulated. Her body couldn’t endure anymore.
“I can’t Erik. It’s too much.” Sitting on her knees she slapped her hand on her thighs that were still shaking.
“Ight fine I’m done. But come give me a kiss.” His lips smirk satisfied with how the night was ending.
Amiyah complied with his orders. Straddling him again this time not feeling insecure she leaned and gave him a kiss. His mouth dominating hers lips. Erik slapped her left ass cheek leaving a sting. She moaned into his mouth.
“Ouch daddy.” She whined softly as she sucked on his bottom lip lightly before releasing it.
Erik’s dick jumped. “I’ma give you something for that mouth if you keep using it like that.” His eyes studying her lips.
Blushing she laid on top of him. Her head in the crook of his neck. Amiyah closed her eyes when she felt his fingers making traces on her back. They both held each other enjoying the peaceful silence. Wiping the condensation off the window Amiyah peered out noticed that it was dawn. The sky began to turn blue as the sun slowly crept up. She sighed when she realized that she had to work later on that day. Thankfully Kelley agreed to switch shifts with her but she wanted to be with Erik all day.
“I don’t wanna go to work today.” She stressed blowing out air of frustration.
“So don’t. Call out.” Erik rubbing circles on the small of her back.
“I can’t. I switched with Kelley already so I don’t think she would want to do both of our shifts. This is so annoying.” Her nails outlining shapes on his neck.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” He bent down kissing her forehead.
She smiled lifting her head to kiss his lips.
The question she had been meaning to ask him since they first saw each other tonight came to her mind.
“Why’d you call me so late? Is everything okay.”
Erik completely forgot about the previous events that happened hours before. The moment she was in his arms nothing else mattered anymore.
“Yeah, I just found out about some shit and I wanted to take my mind off of it and you helped with that.” He sent her a half smile pinching her chin gently.
Amiyah gleamed knowing she could be his peace whenever he wanted to get away.
“Well I’m here for you always.” Her eyes giving a sparkle as she spoke.
Meditating for a moment before he replied Erik thought carefully. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t doing this to make her some type of rebound but because genuinely cared about her. He didn’t want to take a second longer as the words blurted out of his lips.
“Amiyah I want you to be mines...”
___________________________________________
Please excuse any mistakes.
SN: It’s been years since I wrote a smut scene and all of this was written in an hour and a half so please don’t judge lol.
Tag-list
@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @themeirajay @asaani @bellanay @skylahb @toni9
#black panther#erik killmonger#erik stevens#erik x plus size reader#killmonger fanfiction#erik smut#killmonger x reader#truglori#black panther killmonger#homebody
240 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you do 25 or 30 for Bruce and Dick? I’d really like for you to make Bruce say those words to his son!
I think we would all like to see that! oh, and for this one, I’m mixing things up: Bruce took Dick in as his ward but never went on to adopt him.
25: “You know I love you, right?”
30: “I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”
AO3
"Mr. Wayne!” a photographer calls, waving his arm toward their small group as they try to make their way inside. “A picture of you and your sons, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Sure!”
On cue, the four of them turn toward the camera with easy smiles.
“Oh, sorry sir.” The photographer directs this at Dick. “Could I just get his sons for this shot?”
Dick doesn’t blame the reporter, honestly. He was probably assigned to get pictures of the Waynes, and when you google the Waynes, Dick’s name doesn’t pop-up—at least, not under family. And it makes sense; he was never adopted, so he’s legally not part of the Wayne family. Dick’s relation is just a small, unimportant detail. And to outsiders, especially people outside of Gotham or people who simply don’t keep up with Wayne Family News, Dick looks like more of a family friend, if anything.
It’s an honest mistake, and Dick doesn’t take it personally. Unfortunately, that doesn't make it any less awkward.
Dick glances at Bruce, trying to decide what to do. This evening will be long enough as it is, and if Bruce would rather let it go and get through the photos as quickly as possible, Dick wouldn't blame him. And it’s not like Dick needs his face on another magazine.
Bruce tightens his hold on Dick’s shoulder, decision made.
“If you don’t mind,” Bruce pipes up with a charming voice, “I would like Richard to be in the photo. I did raise him for a decade, after all.” Bruce laughs to ease the tension, and Dick joins him to tell the photographer it’s okay.
The photographer’s eyes go wide, face going slightly pink. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I, er, here—” he holds the camera up “—smile!” The camera flashes twice. “Perfect. Have a nice evening!” And then the photographer is gone.
“I think I’m going to run ahead,” Dick says. “Find me when you can.”
“Dick, you don't—”
“It’s fine, B. Seriously.” Dick grins.
Bruce frowns.
Dick shrugs and ducks away from his group, heading toward the building. He ignores the flashing of cameras and calls from the various photographers, and he ignores the three pairs of eyes that dig into his back as he goes.
oOo
All in all, the party was uneventful and the four of them excused themselves early after receiving an alert that Scarecrow had been spotted on the other side of town. If Scarecrow hadn’t been spotted terrorizing civilians with fear gas, Dick might’ve been able to enjoy the free ticket out of the gala.
“Shit,” Tim mutters.
“What?” Dick asks, not taking his eyes off of Scarecrow.
“Forgot to grab a new rebreather. I still have the busted one from the other night.”
Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath before grabbing his own rebreather. “Here.”
Tim pushes it back toward him, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I messed up; I can deal with the consequences.”
“I’m offering you the solution,” Dick insists, pushing back. “We don’t have time to argue. Take the rebreather so we can move in.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need you to protect me like I’m,” Tim looks away, down, “like I’m Robin. Besides, I think we both know that I’ll be able to handle fear gas better than you.”
Dick clenches his jaw, then relaxes it. Not the time. “Maybe, but I’m in charge right now. So: take the rebreather or you’re playing look-out for the rest of the night.”
Tim’s head shoots up, eyes scanning Dick to see how serious he is. Tim takes the rebreather, shoving it into his belt. “Happy?”
“Thrilled. Let’s go.”
oOo
If anyone had to get gassed, Dick’s glad it was him. Even though he has an objectively bad reaction and treatment isn’t always effective, he has more experience and can deal with it better than his siblings. During and after. On top of that, Tim was and continues to be his responsibility; his top priority was getting Tim home safe. From those perspectives, it was logical for Dick to take the lungful of fear toxin.
Then there’s the selfish, probably more powerful perspective: Dick can’t stand seeing Tim on fear gas. The screaming, the tears, the things he says, the inability to comfort him and take the pain away. It’s awful to see once, and Dick’s seen it countless times, in real life and in nightmares. He’d do anything to avoid it—for Tim’s sake and, when Dick’s being honest, his own. He knows his family probably feels the same way about him, but that just means they’d act out of selfishness too.
Tonight, Dick had more say, so Tim got the rebreather and Dick got more than a lungful of gas.
“Sorry again,” Tim mumbles, passing Dick a fresh ice pack. “About the rebreather.”
Dick takes the ice pack and presses it against his right shoulder, which he agitated at some point during their fight with Scarecrow. “’S fine. Knowing you, you’ll triple check next time to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“No kidding,” Tim mumbles, running a hand through his hair. He stifles a yawn. “Need anything else?”
“Nah.” Dick starts reciting pi in his head, trying to drown out the voices he knows aren’t real. “Get some sleep. And good work tonight.”
Even with the gassing, he and Tim were able to take down Scarecrow fairly easily. It’s nice to know that the two of them can still work well together, even when the circumstances aren’t entirely ideal.
“Thanks, you too.” Tim bounces on the balls of his feet and fails to stifle another yawn. This time, Dick yawns too. “You don’t want company or anything?”
“I’m good. Besides, I’ll probably just try to sleep until Alfred is happy with the blood work.”
Tim shrugs and takes a few steps backward. “If you change your mind.”
“Night, Timmers.”
“Night.” Tim turns around and makes his exit.
Dick throws his good arm over his eyes and tries to sleep.
oOo
Unconsciousness comes in waves, broken by adrenaline spikes and Alfred or Bruce checking on him. But no matter his consciousness status, Dick’s reality is shadowed and manipulated by voices and figures, hallucinations and lies that feel like absolute truths. It’s hard to tell the difference between sleep and wakefulness, but the shaking is a good tell. He doesn’t usually shake in his nightmares.
He's in his room, lying in his bed and shaking. He doesn’t remember coming here, but that doesn’t say much. He’d been having a dream, something that felt real, but wrong. Something adjacent to reality.
A camera kept flashing in his face, the photographer morphing into something less and less human. And Bruce, Bruce had been there. Yelling at him, telling him to—
No. That hadn’t happened, and now that he’s awake, Dick can barely remember the lies.
Dick kicks at his sheets, trying to reach the cool air above them. At first it’s a relief, but soon it’s not enough because he’s hot and sweaty and something keeps telling him to run. He glances out the window, trying to figure out if he could survive the fall—
No. He’s fine. He’s fine.
Dick pushes himself upright, takes some deep breaths, tries to recite pi.
He jumps at the knock on his door.
“Dick?” the door creaks open to reveal Bruce, who enters the room before Dick can answer. “What are you still doing here?”
“I—” Dick feels hot, his palms are sweating again and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest, trying to escape. He blinks, twists the skin on his forearm until it hurts.
Bruce is in front of him, sitting down on the bed. “I trained you to be a detective. Can’t you piece together the clues? You’re not wanted. Get out of my house and stay away from my family.”
Dick shakes his head, fists his hair. The room feels like it’s getting smaller, twisted and darker. Louder. Wrong. This is a sign, but Dick can’t remember for what. “But you—no. You trusted me with Damian, you said—”
What had Bruce said? He’s a master manipulator when he wants to be, needs to be. He might’ve trusted him with Damian, or maybe, just maybe, he was only trying to protect Alfred in case Damian had been given orders to assassinate them. He’d already attacked Tim, after all, and keeping that fact in mind, Bruce would have needed to consider safety and who he’d be willing to lose in order to protect someone else. Dick’s death and its repercussions would have felt minuscule if it meant Alfred would be saved.
Hands tug at his wrists. It’s three fourteen. The voice is lying.
“Shh. Take a breath.” Dick tries, but it’s like his chest has stalled. “Tell me how many posters are in your room.”
“There’s—”
“Take them and go. I don’t want any trace of you left in this house.”
“Dick, you’re alright. Take a breath.” Hands are on Dick’s shoulders, trying to restrain him. He brushes them off, tries to get to the window. “I’m out of patience. I won’t be subtle any longer—I’ve regretted taking you in from the moment you moved in. Go!”
His fingers barely brush against the window’s lock before he’s slammed into the ground. His shoulder pops, making him grunt.
“You’re not thinking clearly. Focus. Wait it out.”
Dick struggles against the weight on top of him, but it doesn’t give, not even when he resorts to biting. The hands simply shift from his chest to his stomach, and his attacker doesn’t even make a sound.
The voices in his head build up. There are millions, all shouting conspiracies at him, all of them sounding too true. His heart pounds so hard that it must be bruising his chest, and he’s so hot that his brain must be about to melt. And, and—he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. This is it—he’s going to die.
A hand forces his head down, and it’s not until then that he realizes he’s been slamming it against the ground in an attempt to silence the voices.
“Shh, shh. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”
“Leave! Jump out the window, you’d be doing everyone a favor!”
Dick tries to lift his head again, but the hold is firm. There’s not enough room to hit it against the ground, there’s not enough room to shut the voices out.
“No one will miss you!”
The familiar feeling of a needle slides into his arm.
“Shh.”
Something happens. The room shifts, he shifts, and he realizes that he’s no longer shaking. It’s a sign.
The hallucinations shift into a nightmare that feels too real.
oOo
Dick wakes up to nausea and a headache. He tries to move his hand to rub at his head only to find that he’s been restrained. Bad night then.
He opens his eyes and turns his head. There’s an empty chair by his bed and the bedroom door is cracked open.
“Bruce,” he calls.
Damian steps into view, pushing the door open a little wider. The quick response tells Dick that Damian has been listening from the hallway. “Father is answering a call from Kent. Would you like me to collect him?”
"It can wait.”
Damian still hasn’t entered the room, and it makes Dick wonder how much he’d heard last night, how much last night has to do with the distance, the hesitance. He doesn’t remember seeing Damian at all, but he probably came back when Dick was still in the Cave. And even if they hadn’t seen each other, it’s not like Dick’s bedroom is soundproof.
“Everything okay, kiddo?” He can remember Bruce having a handful of especially bad reactions to fear gas from when Dick was a kid—they’d been terrifying, seeing Bruce like that had made them terrifying.
“Of course. You are the one who was incapacitated.” Damian tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pulling it halfway down his hand. “But you are alright now?”
Dick quirks his lips into a smile. “I’m fine.”
“Good. I imagine last night was quite difficult,” Damian begins. “Titus woke up several times.” Damian tugs on his sleeve again, he looks like he wants to ask something.
Damian’s head turns abruptly, and whatever he sees causes him to take a step back. Into the hallway, he says, “Richard is awake.”
Now that he’s paying attention, Dick can hear Bruce’s footsteps. Bruce pauses outside of Dick’s bedroom, and he and Damian exchange words in quiet voices that Dick can’t understand. Then Bruce steps inside and closes the door behind him.
“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks.
“Lucid,” Dick starts. Bruce tilts his head, expectant. “Not great overall, and I still feel a little on edge, but I think the worst of it is over.”
“Hnn.” Bruce looks him over for a moment, trying to confirm Dick’s self-evaluation. He must pass because soon Bruce is taking off the restraints.
“Did I . . .” Dick tries to think back to last night and work out what was nightmare and what was hallucination and what was reality. “Did I try to jump out a window last night?”
“Yes. I had to hold you down until a sedative was administered. After that, we decided it would be safer to use restraints until the toxin wore off.”
Dick sits up as the last of the restraints are removed. He stretches his ankles and wrists. “Did the antidote not work or something?”
“It either wore off early or the toxin was stronger than usual. Possibly both, considering how you reacted to additional doses,” Bruce explains.
Dick frowns. “How many doses did you give me?”
“Three. You probably won’t need a fourth, but we’ll check your blood in a few hours to make sure that the traces still in your system are gone, or at least decreasing.”
Dick groans and slides back down against his pillow, draping his arms over his face. The fear toxin antidote, while helpful, isn’t without side-effects. With three doses, those effects will stick around for days.
Bruce, the bastard, has the audacity to chuckle at him. Dick blindly throws a pillow at him, smiling when he hears it meet its target.
Then, “Are you hungry?”
“Not even a little.”
Bruce runs a hand through Dick’s hair. “Sleep.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice.
oOo
Dick wakes up alone again, but this time the chair is gone and the door is completely shut. It’s a good sign, and since Dick isn’t currently disoriented, very much preferred.
It’s much later in the day now, a little past noon, but he knows he could very easily close his eyes and sleep for another few hours. Possibly until the next morning. But to his misfortune, his stomach growls in protest.
With a dramatic sigh that no one can hear, he gets out of bed, quickly showers and dresses, and goes downstairs to find something to eat.
"I was just about to check on you," Alfred says when he spots him entering the kitchen. "How are you feeling?"
Dick shrugs. “Tired.” It’s a side-effect of the antidote, but the nightmares probably hadn’t helped. “Did you guys have lunch already?”
“It would seem that everyone has gotten a rather late start to the day. We were just about to settle in for a brunch of sorts.”
“Do you need help?” Dick asks.
Alfred points toward a tray of what looks like buckwheat pancakes. “If you could bring that tray into the dining room, please.”
Dick hums and grabs the tray, carrying it into the dining room with Alfred behind him. He’s just setting the tray down when Titus storms in, running into his legs with a force that threatens to knock him over.
He takes a step back with a small laugh, reaching down to pet Titus. His tail thumps against the ground as he takes a seat on top of Dick’s feet.
“Master Damian!” Alfred shouts, setting a bowl of fruit down on the table.
“What’s up with you, buddy?” Dick asks the dog as he bends down to pet him better. Titus doesn’t usually tackle him, especially not when they just saw each other the day before. “What’s goin’ on?”
Alfred tsks to the room at large.
“Yes, Pennyworth?” Damian asks when he eventually reaches the room.
“What have I told you about animals in the dining room, especially during meal times?”
Damian rolls his eyes, prompting another “Master Damian!” from Alfred. Dick almost laughs, but the adult in him tells him to stand up and keep his mouth shut.
“Titus, come,” Damian says.
Titus whines.
“Titus, come,” Damian repeats.
Titus obeys, tail low as Damian leads him out of the room.
“And please gather the others before returning.”
Damian mumbles something under his breath that Alfred claims to have heard. Despite the resistance, Tim comes into the room a minute later, so Damian must’ve done as Alfred asked.
“Morning,” Tim says. He juts his thumb toward the hall. “What’s Damian mad about?”
“Oh.” Dick huffs a small laugh. “Titus ran in here and Alfred kind of went off on him.”
“Ugh, and I missed it? Bummer.” Tim takes a seat next to him and steals a piece of fruit from the bowl. “Feeling any better? Bruce said you had a rough night.”
Sometimes a little fear toxin exposure can be so mundane and minuscule that it isn’t mentioned the following morning. Dick wishes this was one of those times.
“Yup.” Dick taps his fingers on the table. “What happened to your ankle? You didn’t report it last night.”
Tim looks down at the ACE bandage wrapped around his left foot. “Oh. Just an old injury that started acting up this morning. I can still kick your ass at sparring later, though.”
Dick snorts and grabs one of the buckwheat pancakes, deciding he can’t wait any longer. “You wish.”
oOo
Breakfast is uneventful, aside from Dick literally falling asleep on the table. Bruce shakes him awake after everyone’s finished eating and then drags Dick down to the Cave to check his blood levels. Titus joins them, pressing himself against Dick’s legs and nearly tripping him as they make their way down the Cave’s stairs.
One blood test later and they learn that the toxin levels haven’t budged. Bruce decides to give him another dose of the antidote.
“Fourth time’s the charm, right?” Dick says.
“Hnn.”
Bruce sets a timer on his phone, just like he used to do in the early days. Draw blood, antidote, set a timer, draw more blood. That had been the routine for so much of his life.
Although, Dick supposes, they hadn’t really had antidotes back then; they’d had attempts at treatments. Desperate attempts to manage symptoms. There was no testing to guarantee their effectiveness or safety, and their chemical makeup had been based purely on theory and desperation. It was better than nothing, but it was risky, so they took precautions: monitoring each other not only for effectiveness but also for the inevitable side effects.
Dick will never forget the time an “antidote” caused his throat to swell up and chest to stall. The timer had only had a minute left, too—they’d increased the time after that, and Dick hadn’t complained about having to wait the whole time for almost a year.
These days, monitoring isn’t always part of the routine, and when it is, it’s mostly to check for effectiveness. But since this is Dick’s fourth dose in a relatively short timeframe, his risk for adverse effects is higher and he needs to be monitored to make sure he doesn’t keel over. Bruce will probably force him to stay at the manor until all side effects of the treatment subside, longer if new side effects arise.
“Have you been able to get any restful sleep?”
Dick jerks as he’s pulled from his thoughts. “Uh,” he starts, needing a second to process what Bruce just said. “No. Not really, no.”
“Someone can patrol in Bludhaven while you recover.”
It’s an offer, Bruce trying to be helpful. Dick knows that, but something makes it feel like an order, proof that Bruce thinks he’s incompetent.
“I’m fine on my own.”
Funny how Dick’s still trying to prove that, after all these years. He remembers when he was eight and first moved in with Bruce, how he’d been adamant about not needing a parent, not needing Bruce, but he became attached anyway. He’d told himself Bruce was a want, not a need, but that hadn’t been true, not in the early days.
Then things shifted. He grew up and no longer needed Bruce, but he’d wanted him. Dick had lied to himself again, telling himself that Bruce was the last person he wanted. The lie was easier to believe on some days than on others, but it had been even harder to convince himself that Bruce felt the same way. That even if Bruce didn’t need Dick, he wanted him.
That feeling of uncertainty, insecurity, had been with Dick since he was a kid, and it had persisted and worsened as he’d gotten older. It had been exacerbated after Two-Face nearly killed him and Bruce promptly fired him from being Robin. He was twelve and lost back then, and in what he now knows was just his twisted, hurt kid-brain, he’d convinced himself that Bruce didn’t need nor want him, as Robin or anything else.
Back then, he’d been certain that pity and guilt were the only things stopping Bruce from tossing Dick out onto the streets. He’d felt like a burden, and he’d hated everything about his life in those moments. So, he’d done the only thing he could think of—he ran.
And Bruce—Bruce didn’t chase him.
That was—maybe is—the important bit, the part that Dick still thinks about. Not the initial rejection, not being fired—that Bruce didn’t come after him.
After all, that’s what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? For Bruce to prove him wrong, for Bruce to chase after him, fight for him. To want him.
Bruce fought for Jason, then for Tim and, eventually, Damian. It’s clear that they are and always will be wanted, and Dick knows it’s stupid, but he doesn’t always know if that’s true for himself. At the end of the day, his brothers all have Bruce’s name, and all Dick has is a man who stopped being his legal guardian when he turned eighteen.
Dick is useful, even needed on the rare occasion, but he’s not always sure that he’s wanted. And he desperately needs to be wanted.
“Something’s . . . bothering you.” Bruce’s brows are furrowed, searching Dick’s face and trying to find the clues that will tell him what went wrong and where.
Dick scratches behind Titus’s ears, looking at him instead of Bruce. “Just the toxin.”
“Hnn.” Bruce sits down next to Dick, grunting slightly as he settles. “I imagine that the photographer’s comments last night didn’t help.”
Sometimes Dick hates how well Bruce knows him.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Maybe. But fear toxin twists things, and it’s been known to draw on recent events, especially the latest versions.”
Dick says nothing, just nods in acknowledgment as he attends to Titus.
“Dick, you are my family, in every sense of the word. And I . . . I was bothered by the comment last night that implied otherwise.”
Bruce reaches over and squeezes Dick’s knee, and Dick wonders how much he’d said last night when the fear toxin was in control.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just—” Dick sighs, leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut. “Sometimes I don’t.”
Bruce shifts. He cups the back of Dick’s head and pulls him toward his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I love you, okay? And you are wanted here. So, so wanted.” Bruce holds him in a tight hug and traces circles into his hair. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”
Dick hugs him back and nods into his chest. It doesn’t fix everything, but it makes it better. And sometimes that’s all anyone needs.
#dick grayson#bruce wayne#tim drake#damian wayne#nightwing#batman#red robin#robin#batfamily#fear toxin#elizabeth writes
198 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everything in Between- Chapter 1
Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader
The reader stumbles across Abby one sleepless night and can’t help but become an absolute stuttering mess.
Warnings: swearing, mild violence, fluff, bad grammar lol
I’m extremely new to this so please be gentle T-T
Read chapter 2 here !
The first thing that you always noticed about a person was their eyes (it’s cliché you knew that, but you really couldn’t help it), and anyways… that was the first thing you noticed about her. The first time you saw her it was pouring outside; the kind of pouring where it got dark at 5pm and the reflections in the puddles on the pavement—partly distorted by the heavy raindrops—looked like fun house mirrors. It was brief and she only passed you for a second, but the clouds that were concealing the sun left a shadow of darkness in the air and in her eyes. Making her regularly blue eyes a much darker shade from the lack of sunlight, a blue that looked like the part of the ocean you can see from the shore but avoid from fear you may drown in it.
You had forgotten your umbrella that day leaving your hair drenched, you were shivering from the cold and desperately made your way to your room as quickly as you could. But as you hastily walked with your head down in an effort to conceal your eyes from the raindrops, you bumped into her. She was a lot taller than you and was incredibly built, she had her long blonde hair in a neat braid and was wearing some simple cargo pants with a grey sweater. She was also carrying some bags but you were walking too fast to really get a good look at them. Although this was the first time you had seen her and it was only for a moment you’ll never forget those eyes, those dark blue eyes that made it seem as if she was hiding from something. That was the first time you saw her but it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
It was stormy again but at least today you were inside, the howling of the wind against the windows woke you up and when you glanced at the digital clock it read 2:30. You always had trouble falling asleep again once you were woken from your slumber, and found that you required at least an hour before you could actually sleep again. Since it was so late though you figured that the cafeteria would be empty and you could grab a cup of tea before going back to bed, you also often sat in the commons room to read because it’s pretty isolated from the rest of the place and very seldom did anyone else sit there too.
You pulled a black crewneck over your messy hair and put on some slides before making your way down to the cafeteria, the hallways leading up to it were lit with fluorescent lights that burned your eyes when you stepped out of the darkness of your room. It was surprisingly silent (with the exception of your footsteps of course) and after living in a place constantly occupied by so many people for so many years, it was a rare occasion to find some peace and quiet; an anomaly that still surprised you to this day.
The cafeteria was nothing special, there were 30-40 folding tables lined up near the big tear stained windows and next to the kitchen there was a communal fridge with a basket of fruits no one dared to touch. Cabinets lined the whole half of the room and you reached into the second last one to grab some chamomile tea before setting the kettle on the stove.
You sat by the windows while you waited for the water to boil when you saw a strike of lightning, it was purple and quickly followed by a large cracking noise which weirdly enough didn’t quite startle you. You supposed that after all these years of living in a place that is universally known to rain more than anything, you become accustomed to the crashing sound of thunder and the sudden flashes of lightning. Plus, it’s a lot better than the sound of guns going off or those dreaded clickers that haunted your nightmares. So consumed by your thoughts you hadn’t even noticed the whistling noise coming from the tea kettle. It wasn’t until you heard an unfamiliar voice that nearly made you leap out of your skin, you turned around and standing there was the very girl you had briefly seen that rainy afternoon just three days ago.
“You gonna get that or should I?” She was wearing some grey sweats and a khaki tank top that showcased her huge biceps, you admired her toned forearms, unable to form any combination of words that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete and utter idiot. She must have noticed you staring though because she repeated the question with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk. “Hello?” She asked.
“Right… sorry” you immediately responded. You laughed nervously and hurriedly ran to the tea kettle, a small blush forming on your cheeks as you removed it from the stovetop. While pouring the hot water into a small cup you quickly threw the tea bag in so she wouldn’t notice your shaking hands, as you threw the bag in you quietly ignored the quickening beat of your heart. At this point you couldn’t tell if the shaking was because you were startled by her sudden presence or if you were nervous because of the literal goddess staring down at you.
“Sorry again about that I was just distracted.” You looked up and she was studying you with those same blue eyes, the intensity from her gaze made you ramble on.
“Did you want some tea? I accidentally boiled too much water, I guess eyeballing measurements just isn’t my forte.” You chuckled again, clearly flustered by this gorgeous woman looking at you in your damn pajamas. Somehow even at two in the morning she managed to look effortlessly beautiful and you couldn’t help but be fiercely jealous of her overwhelming confidence. Up until now, no one had ever had this effect on you, then all of a sudden this stranger looks at you once and BOOM you’re a stuttering mess.
“Sure, does this place have any chamomile tea?” She said nonchalantly while grabbing a chair from the stack in the corner. She sat in it backwards with her arms resting on top of the chair and you flashed a glance at her toned forearms “holy shit is she strong” you thought.
“Yeah, I’m having some too actually.” You poured out the tea and sat down across from her, this was the first time you had actually been able to really see her and you were in awe of how gorgeous she was; Her hair was in a simple braid which had a few strands astray (most likely from sleeping in it) and she had these adorable freckles that spread from her face all the way down to her arms. She was staring at her cup with those same intense blue eyes—this time the fluorescents adding a tint of green to them—she looked like a statue that was literally sculpted by the Gods and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. As you looked down at her calloused hands that were cupping the warm ceramic cup, you noticed that they were a lot larger than your own, but they also had a delicacy to them; the kind of delicacy that deserved to be in a museum. Every aspect of her was absolutely perfect and never in your life had you seen someone like her, you were struck with this sudden need to know everything about her (even though she didn’t really seem like the chatty kind). Consumed by the essence of her beauty and strength you almost hadn’t realized that she was talking to you, and “oh God” You thought “I was staring again”.
“So uh… what’s your name?” It was obvious she was trying to fill the silence but there was a softness and kindness to her words, almost as if she was trying to appear harmless.
“Y/n and yours?” You replied in the calmest way that you could even though your hands were shaking like crazy, you gripped on to your cup for dear life hoping she wouldn’t notice. You were always so terrible around new people and now with the combination of not just a complete stranger, but an incredibly charming and attractive stranger? You were surely doomed.
“It’s Abigail but you can call me Abby, most everybody does.” She was clearly not oblivious to your nervous manner (and your staring) but she pretended not to notice, probably to spare you the embarrassment. Having people stare at her was nothing new to Abby and honestly, she liked it. She felt powerful and strong when men were intimidated by her, but the way y/n was staring at her was different. It certainly wasn’t fear because despite the shaking of y/n’s hands that she tried so desperately to conceal, she didn’t look at Abby with fear “Perhaps it was admiration?” Abby thought. But she soon nudged any ideas of romanticism from her mind figuring that y/n was probably into those douchebags who act cocky and disrespectful but are too chicken to ask a girl out; Abby despised disrespectful people. However, if there was anything that Abby hated more than disrespectful assholes, it was embarrassment. Abby’s confidence was one of her greatest strengths, it was like a shield she put forward that helped her endure the incredibly misogynistic environment she lived in. She figured that the staring was just intimidation. Abby was quite confident in her ability to judge a person’s character and brushed any thoughts of attraction to the back of her mind, not wanting to risk the possibility of rejection or being wrong.
“So what brings you to the cafeteria at this fine hour? Besides the tea of course.” She smirked, her smile was so infectious that you couldn’t help but smile as well.
“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep, figured I’d drink some tea and read for a bit in the commons room. Better than laying in my bed and staring at the ceiling for an hour I guess.” You stopped yourself before you could say something stupid or embarrassing. “What about you?”
“I just got here a couple days ago and I’m a pretty light sleeper which normally would be fine, but that damn thunder won’t shut the hell up!” She pointed her fist to the sky dramatically and you couldn’t help but giggle, she looked at you with a smile. “They stationed me here to do some work and I haven’t had much time to myself, they gave me some time off tomorrow and now thanks to this storm I’m gonna spend it passed out in my bed.” She paused, contemplating her words before continuing. “I’m glad I met you though, late nights are much better with company.” You could feel a heat trickle to your cheeks. “So what are you reading?”
“Pride and Prejudice” You answered excitedly. “It’s my favourite book, I’ve read it like a hundred times. I guess I’m just a sucker for cheesy love stories” She grinned.
“It was good but Elizabeth? She was way out of Darcy’s league, I mean yeah she had pride but Darcy was prideful and snobby.” You giggled at her response and the thought of this tough and brawny girl reading Jane Austen. “I mean, if you’re gonna have a terrible character trait just choose one. Not both!”
“Okay… But you gotta admit they were perfect for each other” You added. “Their weaknesses complimented each other and then their strengths the same. It’s like they were meant to find each other, and I mean just the thought of something like that gives me hope you know?” She looked at you with a raised eyebrow, urging you to elaborate. “Soulmates, I mean… just the thought of there being one single person on this entire Earth who was put here alongside you, the perfect match who’s strengths compliment your weaknesses and vice versa makes me feel some sort of hope.” You felt yourself getting carried away and decided to let her speak. “What can I say, I guess I’m nothing if not an optimist.”
“I get what you mean but I feel like that’ll just set you up for disappointment. There's so much more to life than just love and finding your ‘soulmate’. There’s thunderstorms, books, good food, there’s family and friends, and strangers that make you tea.” she glanced at you and your heart skipped a beat “this is insane!” You thought “Not only is she totally gorgeous, but she’s smart and funny? God she’s so perfect I think I might melt where I stand”
“Fine, fine, you got me there.” You smiled and was struck with this sudden feeling of security that you’d never felt before Abby, and though you’d never really admit it, you realized that all this time living in a facility had made you really lonely. Speaking to Abby was seriously the first time in this place that you weren’t thinking about the end of the world or crying over lost family and friends. At this small fold-out table in this dull and dreary cafeteria, you felt the first modicum of safety that you hadn’t felt for a really long time, and it was all because of her. You noticed that your mind had wandered off again of course but Abby’s mind seemed to be elsewhere as well, she had an almost nervous or unsure look on her face.
“Hey, so I know you said you were gonna go read in the commons room but do you think you could ditch Elizabeth and Darcy for a bit? I haven’t really gotten a chance to see this place and I was hoping you could maybe give me a tour.” Abby asked in a casual tone, hoping y/n wouldn’t notice the slight nervousness in her voice.
“Of course! I’d love to show you around, though there isn’t much to see other than empty halls and abandoned rooms” You replied enthusiastically. You were ecstatic, she was the first person you had really connected with in a while and you jumped at the opportunity to spend more time with her.
“I don’t mind, as long as I have you to keep me company.” She winked at you and smiled warmly. You felt your heart skip a beat again “Is Abby flirting with me?” You thought. “Nah, probably not” She was the coolest and most beautiful girl you’d ever seen. What would she see in you? Plus Abby probably isn’t even into girls, she’s just being friendly.
You walked her through each of the empty halls and corridors while you guys chatted about books, friends, family, life before the outbreak, and everything in between. You even traded embarrassing dating stories in which you both had to stifle loud outbursts of laughter so you wouldn’t wake up the rest of the facility. While you were speaking about your various dating escapades you decided to sprinkle in a story about a girl to see Abby’s reaction.
“Okay okay I got a good one, so once I was dating this girl and we actually moved in with each other like a month into the relationship but that’s not important. Anyways, so I had this cat right and when we broke up a few months later and she moved out, she took the cat!” You both bursted out laughing. “She literally stole my cat and I was so pissed that I keyed ‘thief’ into her car.”
“Remind me not to piss you off y/n, you’re a vengeful one.” Abby chuckled and responded casually. You were slightly unsatisfied, she hadn’t reacted to that statement (or any of the subtly gay references you made) at all and you couldn’t tell if it was because she liked girls or because she didn’t care. It didn’t really bother you that much though because this was the most fun you had had in a long time. When you were laughing and talking with Abby all the thoughts about your family and impending doom—thoughts that were once constant—had begun to fade away. All that mattered now was Abby, she was the best thing that had happened to you in a really long time and you were so grateful to have met her.
By the time you guys had decided to depart it was six in the morning, Abby walked you back to your room and you couldn’t help but feel like every atom in your entire body was vibrating.
You had spent an entire night with this amazing girl who was now the first friend that you’ve had in a while, your cheeks were bright red and your heart felt like it was shaking. When you laid your head on your pillow to sleep you couldn’t shake the thought of those brilliant blue eyes, and that clever, knowing grin that made you melt. God, and you couldn’t forget those gigantic biceps, you just wanted her to crush your skull with those beautiful, freckled arms. You adored her, and as you drifted off into a deep and peaceful slumber you dreamt of the most incredibly gorgeous, funny, charming, and intelligent girl you had ever met: Abigail Anderson.
#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson imagine#abby anderson#abby tlou#fluff#fxf#tlou#tlou2#the last of us#the last of us part 2#the last of us imagine
198 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Hope We Never See October (6/?)
When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.
Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.
Rating: Mature
ao3: Beginning | Current
Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |
August
“I come bearing food.”
No one responds, and Emma knows there has to be at least five people in this house. And while David and Mary Margaret live in a really nice place thanks to Mary Margaret’s dad, it’s not so big that no one can hear her when she walks in the front door.
“Hello?” she repeats, shifting the bags of food in her arms. She’s got approximately eight hundred pounds of appetizers in her car, and she needs help carrying them in. “Hello, it’s me, the lowly caterer. Should I have used a separate entrance than the front, or is someone as lowly as me allowed to use that one? What if the neighbors see?”
Still, no answer, and Emma walks down the hallway until she’s in the kitchen. Every inch of the countertop is covered with food, drinks, cutlery, and the works. It’s an organized mess, much like Mary Margaret herself, and Emma puts the bags she’s carrying on the kitchen table before looking out the window to the pool.
“Oh my God,” she whispers to herself. “Like, oh my God.”
Killian Jones is standing on the pool house roof with what looks like garland or bubble lights or some kind of string object, and David is standing below him to...catch him. It looks like David is there to catch Killian.
Emma pushes open the French double doors and steps outside. “What the hell is happening here?”
Killian drops one of the strings he’s holding, causing David to move to catch it, and Emma swears she sees Killian’s life flash before her eyes before he catches himself on the flattest part of the roof.
“Bloody hell, Swan,” he gasps, out of breath, “warn a man.”
“Consider yourself warned.” She closes the door behind her and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s ridiculously hot out today, and she can already feel the sweat gathering down her back and underneath her bikini top. “What are you doing here so early?”
“Ah, well,” Killian starts as he picks up the dropped string of lights and starts adjusting them again, “I ran into Dave here at the market, we got to talking, and since I had nothing else to do, I’ve agreed to risk my life to hang his lights.”
“He’s more nimble than I am,” David says, like that explains all of this.
“Trust me, mate, Emma knows that.”
“Oh my God,” Emma whispers to herself as Killian and David keep talking, not paying her any attention.
Emma opens the door back and steps inside, away from the madness. She doesn’t know what’s happening out there, and she doesn’t want to know. Some things are better left not talked about or questioned, and this is definitely one of those things. She knows her friends all know Killian. The night at the bar where he met Mary Margaret and Ruby really snowballed things, and it’s fine. It is. She swears it’s fine. Except.
Except, well, they usually never meet the people she’s sleeping with. They’ve met her boyfriends, if only because it was nearly impossible to keep them away after so long, and they liked...Graham. They really liked Graham, not so much the others, and Emma feels the exact same way. But her casual flings, like with Killian, her friends don’t meet them. They don’t meet them, and they really don’t invite them to their big almost end of summer parties. They don’t ask them to help hang they string lights and get ice. She bets they asked him to get ice.
What is happening?
This is…this is a lot, and Emma doesn’t know how to feel about it.
She doesn’t know how to feel about a lot of things, mostly Killian Jones, but there are other things included in there. Those things just aren’t quite so in her face.
Shit.
When Mary Margaret invited him to the party a few weeks ago, Emma was fine with it. It’s just a party. There are going to be a lot of people here, and what was the harm in inviting one more? Besides, it’s not like she could have said no when Mary Margaret asked. That would have been rude, and despite what a few select people say, Emma is not rude.
Emma picks at a grape on the counter, popping it in her mouth, and then gets another one as she watches David and Killian outside. Killian takes another string of lights from David and hooks them over a nail on the roof.
He’s different from her past few flings. They’re usually as big of a mess as she is, and while she assumes Killian is as well, she doesn’t know enough about him to truly know. They’ve got a pretty good deal with their one personal question of the day thing. She knows it’s usually more than that, little things coming out in bed or when he stops by the Blue Dog, but she has comfort in being able to veto any question that gets a little too personal.
If Emma could have a veto in most things in life, it’d be a hell of a lot easier.
Emma grabs another grape and then starts unpacking the food she brought. Mary Margaret must have run to the store to get something else, but Emma knows how she’ll want to arrange things. She’s been to enough Nolan parties to know what happens. If she focuses on this, she’ll be able to ignore the man outside and all the pesky little thoughts in her head.
“Swan,” Killian says from behind her, and Emma lets out a little curse. “What are you doing, love?”
“Helping out in the air conditioning instead of outside.”
He hums and steps up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist as his scruff scratches her neck. It’s a contrast to the softness of his lips that are running down the side of her throat. Arousal rises in her veins, quick like lightning, and it continues when one of his hands glides down her body and cups her ass as he presses against her.
“Killian,” she whispers, biting her bottom lip, “this is not the place for this.”
“What? Your friends’ kitchen isn’t the place for us to have a little fun?”
“No,” she laughs as she tilts her neck to give him more space, “it’s not. They may know we’re sleeping together, but I don’t think they want to witness it.”
He laughs and twists her around. His fingers skim her collarbone, lifting up the strap of her bikini. “I like this.”
“You’re such a man.” She pushes against his chest and moves away, going back to arranging the charcuterie boards. Multiple. “I’m sorry David roped you into helping. You could have said no.”
“It’s fine. Can I help you in here?”
She wants to say no, to send him back outside, but it might be nice to have company that’s okay sitting in silence with her. The rest of the day is going to be filled with people celebrating the near end of summer, even if it tends to linger for another month midway into September, and Emma could use a little quiet time before the chaos.
“If you could slice those apples for me, that would be great.”
“Aye, love, no problem.”
They work in silence setting up the boards. Killian catches on quickly, copying her arrangements, and eventually Mary Margaret comes home with more fruit and cheese and a car full of hamburger buns. She takes one look at the mess in her kitchen, has a bit of a meltdown, but then Ruby shows up with Mulan and it all starts coming together enough for everything to calm down.
For about five minutes before the neighbors start showing up with their own food and alcohol, and suddenly all the quiet, familiar voices are drowned out by loud new ones. Emma pours herself a glass of lemonade and sinks into a corner of the kitchen before moving outside. It’s miserably hot, the sun warming her skin immediately, but she knows it’ll cool soon. Until then, she finds her spot in a rattan chair in the shade, curling her legs up with her, and she watches as more and more people begin to filter in.
Emma doesn’t know how any two people have this many friends. She keeps a small circle, and they’ve been around for years. She’s slow to trust after spending her entire childhood in foster care, and while she likes to think her past doesn’t define her, she knows sometimes it does. Right now, when she’s cornering herself off while everyone else is having fun, she knows it’s a time where some old demons are knocking at the unlocked door waiting to get in.
She twists the lock and tells them to go away. She doesn’t need this today.
Ruby jumps into the pool, splashing everyone around her, and Emma laughs to herself. Ruby is one of the people that’s allowed in her head, and sometimes when Emma thinks her life is falling apart, she remembers being eighteen years old, desperate for food and a place to stay, and Ruby and Granny taking her in. they gave her a job and a place to stay because Ruby told Granny she would throw a fit if she didn’t take Emma in. So, it was a threat, sure, but it worked.
It’s good. Emma’s life is good. It’s messy and confusing, but it’s good.
Mostly.
Killian walks toward her, tilting his head in question, and she nods, scooting over on the cushion to give him room. Killian takes it, his thigh warm against hers, and then offers her a beer.
“No thanks. Not quite late enough in the day for me to want something to drink. I’ve got to save it all for when David starts telling the bad jokes once he’s finished cooking and can get plastered.” Killian chuckles then puts the bottle down on the grass. “What? You don’t want it either?”
“No.” He wraps his arm around her, letting it lightly fall on her shoulder. His fingertips pull on the ends of her hair, and a shiver runs down her spine. She’s always loved when people play with her hair. “It’s too early for me to be drinking as well. I try to stay away from the stuff when I can.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Have you now?”
Emma nods and leans a little further into him. She shouldn’t. This all feels a little too couple-like, but she does anyway. “You tend not to drink and when you do, you’re very calculated. You don’t just drink a bunch of wine like I will. It’s almost like you measure it out, literally.”
Killian clicks his tongue and yanks on her hair a little more before he draws his nail over the bare skin of her arm. He doesn’t answer, though. He stays silent, so Emma pulls her legs up and curls into herself while staying next to Killian. Ruby is jumping in the pool again, and Mary Margaret is walking around the pool with a platter of appetizers Emma brought from the Blue Dog.
When Killian still doesn’t answer, Emma decides to change the subject.
“So, tell me, how did you end up being some kind of soccer superstar?”
Killian chuckles and scratches at his chin. “Ah, that’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time. I don’t plan on giving up this chair any time soon. And it’s my one legitimate personal question of the day, so answer or veto.”
His brow raises, like it��s tempting her to take back her statement. She doesn’t. She must be really good at asking the worst questions possible today. They never really talk about what he used to do for a living, mostly because she doesn’t care, but she never thought it would be a sensitive subject. Then again, she should know better. She’s got enough sensitive subjects herself.
She waits for the veto, but it never comes.
“My mum got me into it as something to do after school to keep me active, and I loved it, mostly because Liam, my brother, did it too.” Killian smiles, one of his more genuine ones, and Emma leans back to get a better look at him. She likes the little lines around his eyes much better than the ones around hers. “Long story short, I was bloody good, my father learned there was a way to bet on children’s matches, and he kept me in it to make money. I nearly quit when I found out about it, but then I was too invested in the camps and in training. I loved it, and by some miracle, I ended up being able to do it for a living. I got the dream.”
“So why’d you stop?”
He laughs, but she can tell he finds nothing about this funny, especially when his fingers tighten around her arm. “Well, my brother died, I fell apart, and by professional standards, I was too old to have any kind of time to redeem myself. I nearly drank myself to death, which answers your earlier question, so I’m careful about how much I consume now. That’s actually why I came here...to get away from it all.”
That was...that was much more than Emma was expecting, and she doesn’t know what to say. That’s a common theme in her life. She knows what she feels, but she doesn’t have a damn clue how to express it. So she leans over and wraps her arm around Killian, matching him, and presses up until she can slowly glide her lips over his. It’s soft and sweet, just a taste of how they usually kiss, and she knows it goes against every rule she has for herself.
He’s leaving soon.
This is okay because he’s leaving soon, and when they leave, Emma rarely has to worry about the consequences.
“I wanted to be a ballerina when I was a kid,” she says against his lips, foreheads pressed together. “I never took a class or owned a tutu, but all I wanted was to be able to do the Nutcracker dance because that’s what they did at the community theater. I didn’t have any money as a kid, and I just thought it was the most luxurious thing in the world.”
Emma pulls back. She can’t believe she said any of that, but she did. It’s out there, one tiny piece of the gigantic, five-thousand-piece puzzle that is her life.
“You would have made a hell of a ballerina with those legs of yours, Swan. What an apt last name as well. It could have been a match made in heaven.”
“Ha,” she scoffs, getting up from the chair. “You haven’t seen me dance. Unless it’s, like, in a club where all I really have to do is grind my body on a man, I can’t do it.”
“It’s easy. All you need is a partner who knows what he's doing.”
“And what if I want to be a soloist?”
His brows go up at that. “Well, then you need a teacher because apparently you make a poor excuse for a dancer.”
Killian stands from the chair, and in two quick steps, he’s next to her with his hands on her ass lifting her up. She doesn’t register what’s happening quickly enough for her legs to go dead, and by the time she’s in the air over his shoulder, she doesn’t care enough to fight what’s coming.
It’s a party, she reminds herself, might as well have a good time.
“Get my phone out of my back pocket before you throw me in, would ya?” she asks, and Killian slips his hand in and gets her phone. “Thank you. I’m totally getting back at you for this later.”
Killian stops as Ruby wolf whistles, Mary Margaret gasps, David chuckles, and everyone else starts whispering about whether or not Killian is actually going to throw her in.
He does.
The water is cold at first, like a shock to the system, but by the time she rises to the surface, it’s just the burst of energy that she needed. Killian is sitting at the edge of the water smirking, and yeah, she’s definitely got to get him back for this later.
-/-
-/-
@qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion @dramioneswan @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @gloriousfemaleworrier @spartanguard @snowbellewells
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
Protective Detail (6/?)
Nestor Oceteva x Reader
Warnings: language, tension so thick you could cut it with a goddamn knife
Word Count: 3.5k
A/N: We finally get some payoff, my friends. This chapter is just a tiny taste of what’s in store for 7. That’s when we really get our thirst quenched. So...you know...stay tuned...
Chapter Index
Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sillygoose6969 @mydaiilyescape @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @the-radical-venus @gemini0410 @garbinge @slutformayansmc @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @mayans-sauce (If you want to be tagged in this fic or any of my other writing don’t hesitate to let me know!)
You had your bluetooth headphones on, lip-syncing along with the songs on your playlist as you cleaned around the house. You hated vacuuming, and you always tried to get it done quickly. The time seemed to pass faster when you were dancing to a good beat while you drowned out the noise.
One of the benefits of not having a large house, was that cleaning it wasn’t as daunting of a task as it could’ve been. Plus, on days like today when you called in and didn’t have anywhere to be, there was no excuse not to get it done. Your brain was still reeling from your interaction with Nestor earlier, and cleaning with loud music blaring in your ears seemed like a welcome distraction.
You were dancing your way over to the kitchen to get started on cleaning all of your counters when you felt someone’s eyes on you. You spun around and gasped when you saw Nestor standing there, looking back and forth between you and your phone that was in his hand.
You felt your face get hot as you pushed the headphones down so they were resting around your neck, “Jesus, Nestor. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”
“Gotta stay alert,” he said matter-of-factly. He held your phone up, “Kendrick is on your cleaning mix?”
You laughed, “What? He’s not on yours?”
“Just didn’t have you pegged as a hip-hop fan, that’s all.”
“You have a lot to learn about me, Mr. Oceteva.”
His brows furrowed, “Don’t call me that ever again,” his face remained serious for a moment before a smirk broke out across it.
You chuckled, “From now on it’s the only thing I will ever call you.”
He didn’t dignify your comment with a response, “Anything I can do?”
You shrugged, “I’m just gonna wipe down the counters and stove. Just trying to keep myself busy.”
You put your headphones back on and got started cleaning up the kitchen. The longer you stood there staring at Nestor, the more you felt like you were going to lose your mind. What you really wanted to do was go for a drive to clear your head, but that was off the table even if Nestor was going to be in the car with you. Carefree cruising was going to be put on hold for the foreseeable future.
Once you were done in the kitchen, you moved on to the bathroom. It was the smallest room in the house but for some reason it was your least favorite to clean. You blamed it on the fact that you hated the smell of bleach, but it was just a lot of scrubbing and crouching if you were going to clean it the right way.
You stood up and were turning around to go grab a fresh roll of paper towels from the kitchen when you ran smack into Nestor. You huffed, looking up at him trying your best to have an annoyed expression on your face, although you knew that he would probably be able to see right through it.
“Quit sneaking up on me!”
He smirked, “I’m not,” he reached forward and gently thumbed a bead of sweat off your forehead before walking away and heading back to his room.
You felt like your entire body was on fire as you stood there stuck in place in the bathroom. He wasn’t much for any kind of contact at all, and that seemed like such an unnecessary gesture. You shook your head and went to grab a clean set of clothes from your room as you tried not to read too much into it. The only thing you could do right now was take a shower to try and wash away all the thoughts that were flying through your head.
You didn’t see much of Nestor for the rest of the afternoon. The door to his room was open, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go and see him. The house was silent and you finally forced yourself to put something on the TV just to keep you from going insane inside your own head.
It was starting to approach dinner time and you figured that you were going to have to talk to him eventually. Taking a deep breath you lightly knocked on the door.
“Yea?”
You stepped in to see him sitting with his back up against the headboard, computer in his lap. You leaned back against the doorframe nervously, “Dinner?”
“I’d like to eat eventually, yea,” he slowly shut his laptop, a tiny grin creeping across his face.
“I’d literally kill someone for a slice of pizza at this point,” you said with a laugh.
He chuckled, “Sure, you’d kill someone, but would you leave the house?”
You huffed, “You’ve worn me down. I am willing to leave the house to get pizza.”
He raised his eyebrows, “Wow. You feeling alright?”
You smiled, shaking your head, “You gotta admit it’s been a long few days.”
“If you wanna call and place the order, we can go pick it up.”
“Can I leave it under your name?”
He sighed, pressing his lips together for a moment, “You’re going to place an order for Mr. Oceteva, aren’t you?”
“Guess you’ll find out when we go to pick it up,” you laughed as you walked out of the room.
You never thought that you’d see the day when Nestor left the house in anything but his dress clothes. But, sure enough, he was grabbing the keys to the SUV still in his sweatpants. He had a gun tucked into the waistband, and you smiled to yourself as he pulled on a baggy hoodie to cover it up. He looked over to you, waiting for you to catch up with him.
The two of you went back and forth earlier about who was going to drive, but Nestor insisted. You were trying to be considerate because the last drive wasn’t the smoothest, but you could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t going to back down. It wasn’t worth an argument, so you let him have the keys.
Nestor walked into the restaurant first, instantly scanning the whole building. The young man behind the register looked at the two of you with a smile, “Can I help you?”
“Order for pickup?” Nestor said as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.
The boy looked over the names for orders that he had, “Are you…Mr. Oceteva?”
You could tell that he was clenching his jaw and you bit back a laugh. Nestor sighed, “Yes, that’s me.”
He was opening his wallet to grab some cash when you reached forward and snatched it out of his hands, stuffing it into your pocket before he could pay. You could see it on his face that he wanted to grab it back, but wasn’t about to start something in the middle of the pizza place. You chuckled as you handed a few bills over the counter to the young man, who looked very interested in how the situation was going to play out.
“Keep the change,” you said with a smile, “Have a good night.”
The kid nodded with a smile, “You too.”
You looked to Nestor, “Can you grab those?” you nodded towards the pizza and wing boxes.
The two of you walked back to the car, and he didn’t say anything until you both were inside of it with the doors locked. He looked over at you with a heavy sigh and held out his hand, “Wallet.”
You smirked, pulling it out of your pocket, “Fine, fine,” before you handed it over you opened it, and your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw his license photo, “Oh my god,” your hand flew up to cover your mouth, “Is that…teenage Nestor?”
He reached over and snatched it up out of your hands, “Give me the fucking wallet.”
“Your hair was so short!” you laughed, “Look at you and your baby face.”
He leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling like he was praying to god for patience, “Please stop talking.”
“You were so cute what the fuck,” you laughed, shaking your head in disbelief.
“I’ll leave you here,” he looked over at you, “And I’ll take the pizza with me.”
You pressed your lips together and tried to keep yourself from smiling, but you failed, “Let’s get home before the pizza gets cold.”
He shook his head as he threw the car into drive. For as annoyed as he was making himself seem, you could see it in his eyes that he was amused by the whole ordeal. He’d never admit it, but you knew it was true.
The two of you were camped out on the couch. You had ordered a large pizza, so you decided it was easier to just set the box on the cushion between you and each of you sat cross-legged facing it. It was the first time that Nestor ever drank at home, and it made you feel like you were at a slumber party of some kind.
You took a swig from your beer bottle, “Can I be real with you for a minute?”
He nodded, “Sure.”
“I know that this,” you gestured to yourself and your house, “is not what you usually do. I know it’s probably way below your paygrade, and I know that I give you a lot of shit for very little reward,” you chuckled, “But I’m really glad that you’re here.”
He froze mid-bite, “Yea?”
You smiled, “Yea. I know I gave you and my father both a hard time about all this. But if I’m being honest? I was pretty shaken up after everything happened. It felt like if I gave into this without a fight, I was admitting defeat. But I do feel a lot safer with you here. So…thanks.”
It was clear on his face that he was trying to process everything that you had just said to him. He set his slice of pizza back down into the box, “Can I ask what happened? Your father never gave me any details.”
You sigh, leaning back against the arm of the couch, “It was so stupid,” you shook your head, “I was out with a couple friends, bar-hopping. I stepped outside to get some fresh air, and this girl runs up to me in tears, saying that her friend was sick and she didn’t know what to do. Like, alcohol poisoning sick. And she was freaking out saying that her friend wasn’t breathing and she already called 911 but she didn’t know what else to do. So, I went to help, because I’m not gonna let someone choke on their own vomit and die or something. But when I got to the end of the block—”
“No friend.”
You shook your head, “Nope. Just two dudes trying to grab me and take me away. I really don’t remember exactly what happened, how I didn’t end up dead or at least hog-tied in the back of some sketchy-ass van. But when I tell you that I have never run away from something so fast," you took a long drink from your beer, “But anyway, yea. That’s the gist of it. Obviously, I had to tell my dad about it. He freaked out. He had no idea that he had been stirring up so much shit with business lately. And I’m assuming you got your new employment notice shortly after that happened,” you half-smiled.
He shook his head, “Sorry, Y/N.”
You shrugged, “I know better than to go anywhere alone, even with a distressed girl coming to me in tears. Just had a lapse in judgment and I paid the price for it. Just sorry you’re paying for it too,” you managed a laugh.
“I’m paying for my own lapses in judgment, don’t worry.”
You paused—that was the closest you’d ever gotten to hearing him talk about what happened on his end of things to land him in your house with you. “Sorry purgatory for you is this little two-bedroom house with me,” you smiled at him.
He chuckled, shaking his head, “Who knows, I might’ve ended up here anyway. But I definitely made the call a lot easier for them.”
“What was your crime?” you tried to keep it light but you couldn’t hide your curiosity.
His expression sobered as he contemplated whether or not he wanted to let you in on that part of his life, “Nothing as good-natured as trying to help someone with their drunk friend.”
“Not that I don’t totally dig the whole spiffy, braided, mysterious vibe you always have going,” you gestured to his whole body for a moment before continuing, “But you ever gonna not be vague with me about your deal with Galindo? I know I don’t particularly like him, but still. I like you. It’d be nice to know a little about you. I mean, c’mon, I doubt anything you say to me is going to be surprising. You know who my father is.”
He chuckled, unable to make eye contact with you for a few moments. He took a deep breath, “You remember the last Santa Madre festival?”
“Fuck, who doesn’t? Shit went sideways so fast,” you shook your head slightly, “Rebels killed that nun, right?”
His eyes were glued to the box between you, “Not really.”
There were a few moments of silence before it all clicked inside your head. Your eyes grew wide, “You…?” when he nodded all you could do was ask, “But why?”
He sighed and shook his head, “Rebels had been making the cartel catch a lot of shit. Galindo was convinced that the only way to put himself back on the right side of things was to flip the script—turn the Rebels into the problem. Put their name on the dirty work instead of the cartel’s,” he leaned back against the arm of the couch, “He was not thrilled with the call that I made on the specifics of the method.”
It was hard to picture the Nestor that you had come to know, the one who burned through entire pints of ice cream, and roughed up men who disrespected you, was capable of that kind of carnage. You knew better than to put anything past anyone, though. You could see the tension in his body as he waited for your reaction.
You let out a small sigh, “Listen, no one in the Galindo family has any room to talk about cruel and unusual punishment,” you waited for him to look at you, “And for better or worse, you did exactly what he needed. LO took a major hit in the court of public opinion after that. Don’t place a vague order if you’re gonna complain about all the details of it once the plate is in front of you.”
He let out a surprised chuckle, “Damn. If I had you around earlier maybe I wouldn’t have gotten demoted in the first place.”
“I’ll talk to him for you,” you laughed, “Just say the word.”
His laugh was genuine, “Absolutely not. I’ll be completely fired if you do that.”
“But,” you smiled as you toyed with the beer bottle in your hands, “if that happened you would get to stay with me all the time. Does that not sound amazing to you?” he remained silent for a few moments before his face broke out into a smile and you shook your head, “Shut up you could have it so much worse.”
The two of you didn’t talk for a few minutes, the television filling the house with quiet noise. You finished what little was still in your beer bottle before starting to clear up what was left of dinner. As much as you hated leaving the house compared to delivery, you had to admit that the trip was worth it.
You saw Nestor open his mouth to say something as you reached down and collected his beer bottle, but he stopped himself. You lingered for a moment, hoping that he would change his mind and say whatever it was that he was thinking, but he just reached and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Once you finished cleaning up, you decided that you were going to try and get to bed at a somewhat decent hour so you could try to get back to your usual schedule. You walked up behind Nestor, gently resting one hand on his shoulder.
“I’m heading to bed,” you squeezed his shoulder lightly, “Goodnight.”
He didn’t look up at you as he rested his hand over yours for a brief moment, “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”
You were lying awake in bed for what felt like an eternity. In reality it had only been a couple hours, but that was a long time to lie awake staring at the ceiling. You finally caved and took your phone out. If you were going to be awake anyway, you might as well look at something.
That’s when you heard the television shut off. Shortly thereafter the lights in the living room turned off as well. You realized that you had never been awake when Nestor went to bed. You heard soft footsteps in the hall and you didn’t know why but you were holding your breath when they got close to your door.
There was a light knock as he leaned in the doorway, looking at your face that was lit up by the screen of your phone, “Still up?”
You sat upright, eyes focusing on his silhouette in the darkness, “Can’t sleep.”
“Need anything?”
Your entire body felt like it was overheating. You gnawed at the inside of your cheek, “I, uh…I think I’m…I think I’m good.”
He chuckled, “You don’t sound too sure about that.”
You laughed, fingers twisting nervously in your blanket, “Not sure how much you could help me with what I need, Nestor.”
He crossed the threshold into your room, and you were very aware of the fact that he had never done so before. He came and found a seat on the edge of your bed, “It’s what I’m here for. Try me,” his hand found its way to yours and the warmth of it caused you to release your vice grip on the blanket as he slipped his fingers between yours.
Your heart was pounding inside your chest and your breath felt like it was caught in your throat. You set your phone off to the side with your hand that wasn’t entwined with Nestor’s, and you wondered if he could feel the way your body was trembling.
“I can go, if you’re alright,” he went to stand up.
“No,” you squeezed his hand, giving him a slight tug to keep him from getting up.
“What’s up?” you could hear the smugness in his tone—he knew exactly what was going through your head.
“I,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I’m not looking to make this more difficult for you.”
He chuckled, “Since when?”
Your whole face was hot and you were thankful that the darkness of your room hid the nervousness that was surely showing on your face, “That’s…that’s fair.”
He was halfway through a laugh when you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. There was a moment of stillness when you were waiting for him to pull back, to get up and leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he leaned into you. You felt the tension fading out of your body as your free hand came up to rest on the back of his neck, keeping his lips against yours.
When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he finished the laugh he had started before you kissed him. He cupped the side of your face in his hand, “We do not have the same definition of the word difficult.”
You giggled, biting down lightly on your bottom lip, “No?”
He shook his head, “No.”
He didn’t give you the opportunity to come up with a smart remark as he pulled your lips back to his. You smiled as you melted against him. Your heart was beating so hard inside your chest you were sure that Nestor was going to be able to hear it in the silence of your room. He pulled you closer to him, his hand sliding to rest on the back of your neck. The feeling of his hands on you sent a wave of heat throughout your entire body and you let out a shaky moan as you kissed him.
He pulled back just enough so that his lips weren’t on yours, “You good?”
You nodded, “Yea,” you smiled, your voice soft, “Don’t stop, please.”
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. A smirk crossed his face for a moment before he kissed you again, harder this time. His fingertips pressed lightly into the nape of your neck and for the first time you could feel the neediness radiating off of him—it pulsated through his fingers and into your skin. His touch was magnetic, and you knew that you wouldn’t have been able to pull away from him even if you wanted to. Luckily, though, pulling away was the farthest thing from your mind.
#mayans mc#mayansmc#mayans fx#mayans mc imagine#nestor oceteva#nestor oceteva x reader#nestor oceteva x you#nestor oceteva imagine#protective detail#chapter 6#multichapter#fanfiction#my writing#drabblesmc
223 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tempting Fate - Part Three
Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warnings: Intimacy between two consenting adults.
Word Count: 2,147
Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.
Chapter Summary: Tommy wakes up from a bad dream and decides to get some air. He finds himself at The Cut late at night. All of a sudden, you show up since you cannot sleep as well. The two of you sit and talk for a bit. Tommy walks you home, and you ask him to come inside for the night.
A/N: Remember, there is no Grace or Greta in this fic. They do not exist in the realm of this alternate universe.
Italics represent Tommy's dream in this chapter.
Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.
Tag List: @owenniasstars
He was digging, continuous digging. The tunnel was dark and claustrophobic. The 179 Tunneling Company were always stuck in the dark, never knowing who they were fighting. Tommy continued to dig. He was stationed at the front. He was always in the front leading the men to place the mines under enemy lines. Soon, Tommy heard a loud commotion behind him. He turned around but could not see anything. It was still too dark. Tommy dropped his shovel and put his hand out to feel for another tunneller or if the person had epaulets. If they had epaulets on the shoulder, then it meant Germans had infiltrated the 179th’s tunnel. Tommy continued to hear fighting amongst men. Some were screaming out in pain, but as Tommy moved throughout the tunnel, he never found anyone. The screams and digging sounds began to consume Tommy, that he fell to his knees, trying to block out the noise. Tommy felt himself starting to hyperventilate as he could not breathe in the confined space.
“Tommy,” spoke a muffled voice. He looked around to see where the voice was coming from inside the tunnel.
“Tommy,” the voice spoke up again. Tommy was able to distinguish the voice belonged to a female. “Over here,” the voice instructed.
“Who are you?” Tommy asked, but with no answer.
“Come find me, Tommy. Follow my voice.”
Tommy did not know why he was following an unknown voice. For all he knew, it could be a trap set up by the Germans for capture.
Making his way through the dark tunnel, Tommy was able to make out a lighted area. As it got lighter, Tommy could see that no men around. However, a woman was standing alone.
“Who are you?” Tommy asked again, reaching out to touch the woman. He wanted to see her face.
When the woman turned around, Tommy was taken aback. It was you.
Tommy breathed out your name. “What are you doing here? You have to leave, or you will get hurt. You are not supposed to be here,” rambled Tommy.
You smiled at Tommy and walked closer to him to touch his cheek. Tommy leaned into your touch. “I’m here to bring you home, Tommy. You don’t belong down in the dark. Dark tunnels, Battle of the Somme, this isn’t your life anymore. The war is over.”
Tommy shook his head in disbelief. “No. I will always be at war. I’ll never have peace,” he told you.
Tommy grabbed your hands and held them close to his chest. He needed a lifeline, and, at that moment, you were it. Tears began to sting out the corners of Tommy’s eyes.
You cupped Tommy’s face in your hands to look into his beautiful blue eyes. Leaning in, you placed a tender kiss on his forehead.
“Thomas, you have to wake up, now,” you told him. You leaned in again and kissed him on the lips.
Before Tommy could reciprocate, he woke up.
Tommy bolted upright on his bed. He looked around to see he was in his room. He was in Small Heath, not France. Sitting up, Tommy positioned himself against the headboard and took deep breaths to help control his breathing. He looked at his undershirt to see it drenched in sweat.
“Fucking ‘ell,” he said out loud. Looking at his timepiece, it read three o’clock in the morning. There was no way Tommy was going to get back to sleep now. Getting off the bed, Tommy located and laced his shoes. He put on his coat and hat, then headed out of the house. He needed some fresh air, which was not easy to come by in the smog-filled place of Small Heath.
Not many people were out, which to Tommy was pleasant. The less disturbance, the better. Tommy did not know where he was going but allowed his legs to lead the way. It was not long until Tommy reached the Cut. He looked down at the dark water and began thinking about his mother. It was a dark day for the Shelby siblings when they received the devastating news of their mother drowning in the Cut. Nothing was ever the same from then on out, especially when their father up and left.
Tommy, without hesitation, stepped up as the head of the family. None of the other siblings fought him on it as they trusted Tommy to look after them. That is why Tommy pushed so hard to provide for his family. He wanted them to have more and to be more. He did not wish to have the Shelby name only associated with gypsies, travelers, and Birmingham. Tommy Shelby wanted more out of life. He wanted to be someone of importance.
When Tommy heard footsteps approaching, he pulled out his gun and turned around to point it at the unknown assailant. However, he did not come face-to-face with a would-be attacker. Instead, it was you with your hands up.
“Whoa! Don’t shoot!” you yelled, stepping back slowly.
“Shit! What are you doing out so late?” Tommy questioned sternly and put his gun away. “I could have shot you.”
“But you didn’t pull the trigger,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.
Tommy was not amused. He walked up to you and asked why you were walking around Small Heath late at night.
You let out a sigh, “I couldn’t sleep. I keep having these weird dreams. What about you? Why are you out here and not at home?”
“Same,” Tommy replied truthfully. There was no point trying to put on a tough front with you, mostly because he was tired and did not have the energy to come up with a lie.
Ever since the night Tommy walked you to the Yard to see his horse, he finally concluded that you were harmless. It was also the night that he realized he wanted you for himself.
“I couldn’t sleep and decided to get some air,” continued Tommy and pulled out a cigarette. He presented one to you, which you accepted.
You touched Tommy’s hand when he offered his match to light the cigarette. The two of you stood around the Cut, smoking in silence. You saw some boxes off to the side and took a seat, which Tommy followed suit.
“If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?” you asked Tommy out of the blue.
He turned to look at you, eyebrows raised. It was an odd question. One had not given much thought. However, the smile on your face helped brighten his sullen mood.
“I don’t know. That is not a question I have ever been asked. What about you? Where would you like to be?”
Without pause, you answered, “The Aran Islands.” When you saw Tommy quirk an eyebrow, you explained, “I remember reading ‘The Aran Islands’ by John Millington Synge. The book is a four-part collection of Synge’s journal entries where he shares his interaction with the Aran Islands people. He also talks about the culture and the language, predominantly Irish speaking, and how the community has a real connection through their stories and history. It reminded me of the traveler’s life, you know. How we use stories to tell the younger generation of our history, that is how we keep our traditions.”
“The Aran Islands, eh, that sounds like a nice place. Fuck it. I’ll take you there myself,” Tommy uttered playfully.
“Really? You would be willing to take me to the Aran Islands?”
“It would be an adventure, something new for the both of us, eh. We can spend our time learning Gaelic and taking in the ocean breeze. Our skin would get dry because of the saltwater, but at least it would a step up from Small Heath,” suggested Tommy. There was a hint of excitement in his voice that was nice to your ears.
“Deal. You better keep hold up to that promise, Tommy Shelby. I would hate to have to leave you behind.”
“Oh, we will go, I promise. I may be a lot of things, but I am a man of my word,” he replied.
After a few minutes of continued quiet, Tommy spoke up, “I better take you home.”
Tommy stood up, stubbed out his cigarette, and offered his hand to you, which you accepted.
As you walked back to your home, Tommy did not let go of your hand. You liked the feel of his large, calloused hand wrapped around yours. Tommy noticed that you began rubbing your thumb against his; it only made him tighten his grip. He was not letting you go.
When you reached the door of your home, you turned back to Tommy. You didn’t want him to leave.
“Do you want to come inside?” you shyly asked him.
“Are you sure?” Tommy questioned, leaning closer to you. “People may talk.”
“So, let them talk. We are grown-ups, are we not? We can make our own choices,” you said and leaned in to kiss Tommy on the lips. It took him by surprise that you were the one to make the first move. He liked your boldness and responded to the kiss. You pulled back to open the front door and pulled Tommy along with you inside the house.
You continued to lead him towards your bedroom. Tommy wrapped his arms around you and began pulling at the buttons on your blouse while leaving a trail of kisses along your neck. He could not remember a time where he wanted someone so bad. Tommy desperately wanted to feel your bare skin against his. He pulled off his jacket and cap and left them on the floor. You both plopped down on the bed, and it was no holds bar. Both of you were fighting to dominate.
Tommy took your wrists and pinned them above your head. The action made you stop to look up at him.
“You’re going to have to let me lead, love. I can take over from here, yeah,” Tommy ordered and traced one of his fingers along your jaw down to your breast. “Now, be a good girl for me and remove your clothes.”
Without hesitation, you took off your garments with Tommy’s help. Not long after, he removed his clothes and was on top of you once again. He ran a hand along your naked body, making sure to squeeze your breasts and tug your nipples. The action elicited a moan from your mouth. Tommy’s hand ran over your stomach and down to your lower region.
“Not quite ready for me, but I will get you ready. Just relax for me, love,” Tommy instructed and slipped a finger between your folds. You arched your back off the bed at the new sensation you were feeling. With your positive reaction, Tommy inserted another finger and began increasing his pumping. Soon, you felt the pulsing between your legs rise throughout the rest of your body. Tommy noticed you tightening around his fingers. You were close and ready, so he pulled out but then lined his cock against the opening of your cunt.
Slowly, Tommy entered inside and allowed you time to adjust to his length. You liked the way Tommy stretched you as he bottomed out. When Tommy leaned down to capture your lips to his, you lightly nudge him to begin moving.
“Eager, aren’t we?” Tommy teased and began a slow pace. He wanted to take his time with you, to appreciate every inch and feel of you writhing against him. It was a more Tommy wanted to savor and burn it to memory.
“Tommy,” you panted, clawing at his back. “I need you to go faster, please. I can take it.”
Obliging to your begging, Tommy adjusted his position, so he was on his knees. He grabbed your hips and began upping his pace. The new position allowed Tommy to hit your sweet spot.
“Oh, shit!” you yelled out at the new sensation you were feeling. It all felt so good, and it only got better when Tommy began rubbing your clit. You were almost close to the edge that you did not think you could last very long.
The bubble burst, and you arched your back and letting out a scream. Most likely, heard by the neighbors or any bystanders on the street; however, you did not care. You were feeling ecstasy at that moment. Tommy followed after you with his orgasm and plopped down on the bed next to you.
Looking over at Tommy, you saw he had his eyes closed and trying to even out his breathing. He looked peaceful and sweet. You could see the boyish charm on his face and not the cold-hearted gangster he showed to the world. You were going to cherish this moment, that you would soon find out would be few and far between.
#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fic
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
There you are
(Daryl Dixon x female!reader)
Summary: reader has a flashback/trauma episode and Daryl is there to help
Word count: 1.6 K
Warnings: fighting, mentions of abuse, flashback, panic attack
A/N: hey guys !! I have missed writing so much and I thought I’d come back with a new character to write with !! I based the title off of my new favorite song, There you are. This is more of a vent piece, I hope you enjoy :)) gif is not mine !!
As soon as you woke up, you knew it was an off day. Everything felt wrong, like you were floating in space. As you attempt to get up, you hear shouting coming from outside. You quickly toss on some clothes and follow Carol into the yard, searching for the center of the shouting.
“You can’t just do shit without it asking me! It’s dangerous to go out there on your own,” Rick shouts. Daryl glares back, clenching his fists.
“What is your problem man? I was jus tryin’ to help us, and I did. I found food, food we needed. So shut up and be grateful.” You freeze, eyes blowing wide.
“There are rules here Daryl, rules you need to follow.”
“I don’t see you doin anythin’ for us. I’m out there, working my ass off, to help my people, and what are you doin’? Prancing off with the Governor?”
Their voices pick up, reaching all ends of the yard, and you fucking lost it. Your body goes numb and tingly, ears ringing. Reaching out, you find something, anything, to hold onto. You feel like your underwater, shut off from the world.
Closing your eyes you whimper, stumbling away from the fight. Someone’s hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, grunting and pushing them away. Tripping, you catch yourself from the fall and start to stumble away from the fight, thrown into the past.
Doors slam as footsteps pound across the floor. Voices echo throughout the house, shouting, screaming, you run to your room and lock the door, trembling.
Your eyes snap back open, the light blinding you. You blink, adjusting to the light. Rick storms past you, fuming. You wipe your palms on your pants, trying to rid the sweat forming on them. You look up and see Daryl looking at you. All his anger is gone, replaced with concern. You quickly look away, embarrassed.
“Hey, y/n!” He calls out. He starts to walk torward you but you step away, turning to go to the guard tower. “y/n?” You stop at the edge of the ladder and wait for him to catch up.
“Hey, everything okay?” You can tell he’s worried, watching as he chews his bottom lip and pulls at his nails.
“I- yeah. Sorry, I-I’m okay, just, I want to be alone, if that’s okay?” His eyes soften and he nods, slowly stepping away. You can tell he doesn’t want to leave, but he respects your wishes.
You climb up the ladder, doing your best to ignore the shouting ringing throughout your head. You grip the railing tight, stopping midair to regain your balance. Get yourself together, god dammit. Sighing, you reach the top and climb into the tower.
Sitting against the wall you clench your eyes shut, taking a deep breath, your heart pounding. Your head pounds with each thump, making you dizzy. You shift your focus, trying to come up with anything else to think about.
Dinner, you’re helping make dinner tonight. I’m sure Carol will help out too. You helped your mom make dinner that night, you set the table, and he glared at you when you handed him his plate. She sat at the end of the table, your dad on the other side. You-
“don’t do shit around here,” she yells, staring your father down.
“You sure as hell know that’s a lie!” He slams his fist down on the table, making you jump and cower away. You push your chair away from the table, climbing down onto the floor.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He towers over you, grabbing onto your wrist in a vice grip. You cry out, trying to pull away. He lets you go, causing your to tumble to the floor.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Leave her out of this!” She stands from the table as well, glancing down at you. She’s nervous.
“What did you just say?” Her eyes widen, hands gripping the chair. You slowly back away, crawling over to the staircase.
“I’m sorry, I-“ He picks up his fork and chucks it at her but she dodges, shouting. You start climbing down the staircase, trying not to fall in your effort to move quickly. Screams echo throughout the house as they fight, the dog barking outside.
Resting your head in your hands you sigh, pressing your fingers to your temples. As if this will make it go away. You clench your fists together, digging your nails into your skin. You close your eyes once more, trying to drown out the noise.
“You can’t hide in there forever little girl,” the doorknob jiggles but the lock stays put, keeping him locked out. “Come out now, you’re just making it worse for yourself.”
Your trembling picks up as you hide in the closet, your room door slamming against its hinges. “Open the fucking door!” His fists slam against the wall and you whimper, curling in on yourself.
Your breath comes out in puffs, your hands clenching tightly, knuckles white. A tear rolls down your face and you flinch, the sound of his fist echoing in your ears. Tears make you weak.
Suddenly hands grip around yours, trying to unclench your fists. You gasp and try to pull away, petrified.
“Shh, jus’ me. You’re okay girl, it’s okay.” You shake your head, chest tightening. Your eyes focus enough to see a face, his face, staring down at you. You open your mouth you try to speak, but only a small whimper comes out.
“Jus’ breathe,” he rests his hand on your shoulder, pulling you close to him. You feel his breath on your cheek, his voice soft.
“It’s okay, jus’ take a breath. You’re ‘ere with me, you’re safe. Ain’ gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you.” You let out another small sound, gripping tightly onto his shirt.
He glares down at you, sighing.
“It was an accident, I’m sorry.” He grips your wrist tight, pulling you into the bedroom.
“Please sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, please.” He lets go of your wrist, digging around in his dresser drawer.
“Sorry isn’t good enough.” He grabs a belt from the drawer, slamming it shut. “Kneel.”
“No, please-“ you try to leave the room but he grabs you, slamming the door shut and hauling you up by your collar.
“You listen to your father when he tells you to do something. Now shut the fuck up and do as I say.”
“I don want to,” You mumble, tears rolling down your face. Daryl’s hands wrap around you and rubs your back, pressing his head atop yours.
“I know, it’s okay. You’re okay. It’ll be over soon.” He rests one of his hands behind your head, playing with your hair. “In an’ out, that’s it.”
His heartbeat is fast but steady, guiding you back to earth. Your breathing slows, grip loosening. You stay tangled together for a moment longer before he pulls away, gazing down at you.
“Better?” You nod, wiping the wetness off your face. Your checks flush and you look away, embarrassed.
“M’ sorry,” you muster out. “You shouldn’t be here-“
“Don’t. You needed me, n’ that’s okay. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of.” He pushes your hair out from your face and behind your ears. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t ‘ave fought with Rick, I know this shit happens an I jus’ ignored it.” He looks at your hands, guilt ridden.
“You shouldn’t feel sorry, it’s just stupid and dramatic.” He glances at you before looking back down at your hands, that concerned look growing in his eyes yet again. He grabs your hands and lays them flat in his.
“You can’t help these things, ain’t nothin’ dramatic ‘bout that. Lemmie see your ‘ands,” you look down, eyebrows furrowing. Crescent cuts littered your palms, deep and red. “Can you not feel ‘em?”
You shake your head. “I-no. I don’t remember doing that,” His fingers trail over a crescent, pressing down on it. You don’t flinch, not registering the pain. “I’m still kind of out of it, I will be for a while.” His eyes squint in concern, his touch gentle.
“Wanna talk abou’ it?” You stiffen, eyes shooting back down to the floor. “Okay, we don’ ‘ave to.” Reaching out, you wrap your arms around his neck, climbing into his lap. He stiffens for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, one of his hands landing in your hair.
“Usually it isn’t this bad,” he grunts, his hand rubbing over your back. “Some days are worse than others. Even little things can send me spiraling. I don’t- it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t get better.” It’s quiet for a moment.
“It gets easier to ‘andle, I promise.” He places both of his hands on your cheeks, wiping away the last of the tears. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay.” You smile, leaning into his touch. His breath fans over your face, his hands warm on your cheeks.
You close your eyes, taking in his scent. With Daryl, these moments were scarce, something to savor. At first he’s closed off, reserved. Once he opens up, he becomes a big cuddle bug. He loves these moments, even if it can be uncomfortable for him.
You yawn, eyes fluttering. “Tired?” He shifts, causing you to latch onto him tighter. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, don’t gotta worry.” You nod, closing your eyes and leaning into him.
His rests his head stop yours, whispering something you couldn’t quite catch. I’ll always be here.
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon fluff#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x you#twd#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#twd fanfic#twd fanfiction#the walking dead fanfic#daryl twd#the walking dead imagine#walking dead imagine#fanfiction#the walking dead daryl#norman reedus#twd fandom#twd x reader
208 notes
·
View notes
Text
terror ave. ; c.bg
warnings and other: um?, theres a serial killer, murder is mentioned, nothing too detailed, not proofread bc i wrote this at 4am
"we advise everyone to be in complete lockdown as there have seemed to have been reports of a serial killer gone loose in the area. so far no one has been injured but we suggest taking extra precautions tonight. please do not go outside during this time. lock your doors, close your windows, and turn off all the ligh-"
frowning, you look down at the tub of ice cream situated in between your legs. you lick the ice cream from your spoon as the rest of the news report gets drowned out by your thoughts. wait- shit i think i forgot to lock the back door... you shrug. you forgot that you had invited your neighbor beomgyu over, earlier in the day. he had insisted that he had a cool new pokemon to show you on his switch and you, stupidly, allowed him to show you. to your dismay, it only turned out to be a measly skwovet.
"gyu, you can literally catch these at route 1. you know, in the beginning of the game?" you had told him with a disappointed look on your face. "you're on your 5th gym."
he had gasped in offense, bringing his switch closer to his chest to shield the creature from further judgment. "y/n how dare you! it's the cutest pokemon in the game so of course, i went back to get one. don't you think you're being too mean?"
you giggled to yourself remembering the little back and forth. you've been living alone in your current house for only a couple of months. you were surprised your parents let you move out and have a whole house in the suburbs to yourself considering how strict and overprotective they were. upon moving, you quickly befriended choi beomgyu, the literal boy next door. he had offered to help you get your couch through the door and proceeded to eat his melting chocolate bar on said couch. from then on you and him have been best friends ever since, sometimes having him sleepover or vise versa.
you weren't worried about some rando serial killer in your neighborhood since nothing ever happened to you. you were convinced you weren't the main character.
from your couch, you looked outside to see that beomgyu's lights were already turned off. he must've gone to sleep early. your eyes catch the clock on your wall and you subconsciously yawn when you see how late it is. 1:56 am? damn... i should probably go to sleep too.
you pick up the tub of ice cream and take it back to your kitchen. its fucking chilly in here. you rub your arms as goosebumps start to form on them. you peek around the corner of the wall dividing your kitchen to where the back door is located. it's slightly cracked open and that raises some bit of concern in your head. again, you shrug. you remember beomgyu leaving out the back door since he liked coming in from the back instead of the front. an odd quirk of his that you never got to question him about because every time you tried he would simply smile at you cutely and say something like "its cool that's why."
you walk over to the door while being cautious about where you step since your house was pretty messy. you shut the door and sigh, dragging your body towards the living room again to turn the tv off. the news reporter was just about to give more instructions but frankly, you're too tired to care.
now that the tv was turned off you felt a weird sense of loneliness. the white noise being emitted from the screen becoming a bit too deafening to your ears to handle. you switch the tv off properly and toss the remote somewhere on the couch.
you walk up to your bedroom while scrolling through your Instagram feed. you laugh at the caption of beomgyu's latest post because it's alluding to the argument you both had earlier and type a comment hoping that he'll have time to read it when he wakes up.
when you reach your bedroom you toss your phone haphazardly on your bed and flop yourself into the sheets. today was fairly unproductive but that's been the premise of your days lately. you wonder how you manage to do absolutely nothing yet feel the weight of 10 thousand bricks on you back.
you sigh as you feel yourself slowly drift off to sleep but a noise in the room next door startles you. if you had been fully asleep you probably wouldn't have heard it but you're sure you heard a noise even in your half-asleep state. you sit up in your bed pulling the sheets closer to you. you decide to hold your breath in case you hear another noise or if you're just being delusional and sleep-deprived.
you wait for a while and after 5 minutes you don't hear anything. you sigh quietly but before you can settle back and get back to sleep you hear another noise. ok, you know for sure you have no roommates and beomgyu always tells you he's coming over before he does. the room you're hearing the noises from is the storage room where you keep all the extra furniture and miscellaneous items that you haven't had the chance to use or set up yet so nothing should be moving in there. you also recall the movers checking the house for any squatters since that seemed to be more common than most people would think. that day you had been happy and relieved to know that there was none of that in the house.
a thought crosses your mind that it could be the serial killer that's on the loose currently. if that's the case then the killer is in your house, a few feet away, in a room that has old kitchen knives that you decided don't need to be displayed.
you stare at your door while reaching for your phone. you can hear the person walking around the room and dragging the knives across the wall in a menacing manner and that's when the anxiety finally kicks in. your eyes start filling up with tears at the thought of a deranged serial killer being just a couple feet away from you, literally a wall away.
you feel your phone graze your hand and grab it shakily, slowly getting up from your bed. you don't wanna call anyone right now since the walls are thin, the killer might hear you then it's really game over. once you get to your bedroom door, you push it open so painfully slowly that you just wanna sob right there. you hate that something like this is seriously happening to you.
the killer doesn't seem to be out in the open yet. you figure they're still deep in the storage room. that gives you some time to get out of your house and maybe run to a police station or something. you walk out into the hall and cautiously walk down the stairs hoping they won't do that annoying thing where they creak in intense moments. thankfully though, you make it down the stairs.
immediately, you bolt out of your house. you don't know why but you have the sudden idea to ask beomgyu for help. you run to his house and ring the door repeatedly, you don't care if you're being annoying. you look back at your own house and all the lights are still turned off except for your bedroom lights which you left on. hopefully, the killer isn't persistent and won't come looking for you. you turn back to beomgyu's door and keep ringing the doorbell hoping his ass will wake up since you know he's a heavy sleeper. "come on, come on. fucking choi beomgyu, come on!" you whisper anxiously.
suddenly the door swings open and an angry but half asleep beomgyu is standing there. his hair is disheveled and his face is scrunched up in confusion and drowsiness. you push past him and jump on his couch covering yourself with one of his pillows. "y/n? what the fuck are you doing. it's like 2 am?" he shuts the door, walking over to you.
"is everything locked? the windows? the door just now?" you look up at him, biting your lip. "yes everything is locked and look," you watch him walk back to the front door and lock it. "now the door is locked. mind telling me why you bum-rushed into my house at the ass crack of dawn?"
"gyu-" you can't even manage to get a proper sentence out because a broken sob leaves your mouth rather than words. you walk up to him and hug him tightly. you don't care that you're probably soaking his t-shirt with your tears, you need him to know that you really care about him and you were almost permanently separated from him today. "y/n?"
"gyu t-the killer. the s-serial killer! he's in m-my house right now," you sob even harder into his shirt and you're glad he feels warm because those 2 minutes of ringing his doorbell out there made you almost freeze to death. especially since you're only wearing your pjs which consisted of a t-shirt and short shorts.
you feel him hug you back and you sigh shakily as he rubs your back to comfort you. "y/n," he says simply. you pull away from him, which you immediately regret because you start to feel cold again. "w-we need to call the police," you wipe your tears harshly but to no avail, since they just keep falling against your will.
you take your phone from your pocket and start to dial but beomgyu takes your phone from you and pockets it into his sweats. "y/n, i've never seen you cry. you look so pretty when you cry," he leans closer to your face and you flinch when he brings his hand up to caress your cheek before wiping a stray tear from it.
"gyu, we need t-to call the police! it's not the time f-for games. give me my phone please," you move his hand away from your face and motion for him to give your phone back. he chuckles right in your face, mockingly.
"please, she says."
you watch expectantly as he takes your phone out of his pocket but feel your heart drop with it as he lets it fall to the floor with a deafening crack. if that wasn't enough, you watch in disbelief as he stomps on it with force, effectively rendering it useless.
your eyes start to fill with tears again and the sinking feeling that beomgyu isn't gonna help you starts to settle. "w-why," you blubber. you fall to the ground in defeat and confusion. you don't even have the strength to run to the door to get proper help because you felt you had no energy after watching beomgyu turn his back on you.
"ever since you moved here i've had my eye on you. i really like you y/n. scratch that, i love you y/n. the other girl that lived in the house before you was boring so i had her killed off within the first week of her moving here. i mean she was pretty but you're gorgeous, i like you much more." he lifts you off the ground and examines your face to see how your taking in this information. you can't even speak because of the burning sensation in your throat from trying to hold back your tears so hard.
"i bailed that asshole killer out of jail and hired him to kill people for me," he continues. "didn't actually wanna get my hands dirty."
he moves you to sit on the couch as if this is just another normal conversation between friends. it finally clicks in your head what's happening and you stand up and snap at him. "what the fuck gyu? i thought you were just a regular person what the fuck is wrong with you!" you begin to walk to the front door but he grabs you with a force you've never felt him use before.
"y/n really? i've been protecting you this whole time!" you can sense that his patience is thinning. "all this time! when we walked to the store and those guys catcalled you, i had them killed. that guy that hit on you in our seminar class, he's gone!" he smiles wickedly and you hate the fact that he still looks like your adorable best friend.
"y/n you're the only for me. im sorry i scared you but i knew if the serial killer went to your home you'd come running to me," you feel him rubbing your hand soothingly and you pull away from him with disgust.
"don't touch me! i'm going to the police, this is fucking sick." before you can even reach the door you hear something click. you feel a cold metal around your wrist and when you look down you see that beomgyu has handcuffed you to the door. "you're not leaving y/n, do i really have to do this to you? i've been waiting for months just for you to run away?" he whispers.
"beomgyu let me go right now," you seethe. the anxiety you felt before is only heightened when you look around and catch someone leaving from your house. "beomgyu please," you resort to petty pleads.
he pouts at you, "don't worry y/n i'm not gonna hurt you, i would never." he gives you a tender kiss on your forehead before standing up again.
"i just want you to myself that's all."
#choi beomgyu#beomgyu#beomgyu imagines#fluff#beomgyu reactions#beomgyu drabbles#beomgyu drabble#beomgyu imagine#txt imagines#tomorrow x together#drabble#beomgyu fluff#txt fluff#tomorrow x together imagines#txt headcannons#txt reactions#txt smut#txt scenarios#beomgyu scenarios#beomgyu timestamps#beomgyu fic#beomgyu smut#gothtxtober
150 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Englishman JACK - CHAP 4
< Chap 3 | Chap 4 Lady Things | Chap 5 >
Summary: When living in a man’s world, you need to know a woman’s worth.
Author’s note: I wasn’t sure how I’d introduce Lucia. My initial draft made her too meak. So I hope it sort of works...
Word count: 4813 (17 min. read)
Disclaimers: NSFW - Strong language, misogyny, lots of cigarettes, alcohol abuse, corporal punishment, mobsters, mystery
–
Lady Things
--
‘I tell you boy. It’s a ..marveilleuse..place!’ Jacques slurred.
The once stoic man was giggling like a twelve year old boy in love, moustache curling at the edges. Jack grinned and tugged him along.
Ever since the incident at the lunchroom a few weeks prior, Jacques had changed. Before then he was never late and ever precise. But meeting Stella had set something off. And though Jacques was still a very capable detective, there were moments he finally let loose. Like right now.
With unsteady feet he and Jack crossed the cobbled road towards Madame Chartreuse. A small looking club with green shutters and bright red neon signs. The rain that had fallen an hour earlier, casted everything in a devilish hue, the whole world seemingly aflame with red delight.
‘Is it just because she is here?’ Jack asked, eyes studying the stupidly grinning man hanging from his shoulder.
‘No no...there’s other...’ Jacques hiccupped. ‘Other reasons too.’
Jack smiled. Indeed, there must be other reasons or they would have simply gone to the far more established Moulin Rouge.
‘Well you take care of yourself old man.’ Jack tapped him on the shoulder as they halted before the doorman. Outside a few people were having their smokes, coats hanging from their shoulders. The streets here were far more quiet than the abundant area near the Moulin Rouge. And were it not for the silent passing footsteps of a couple passing, it would have been close to dead quiet.
The doorman tilted his grubby face and with the exchange of a few words, coins and gauging looks, Jacques and Jack got inside the most well-kept secret of Paris. Madame Chartreuse had once been a home. And though Jack had never seen it when it had been an actual house, the vibe still clung to its happily wallpapered walls.
The entrance hall was small but crowded, and smoke wrapped everything in a magical yellow mist. Live music and dancing feet were heard in the back, whereas the living room and reception room on the left were more merrily entertained by conversation and card games. Beaded curtains hung from the door frames and for a moment Jack wondered what the purpose was of such contraptions. It didn’t even manage to keep flies away if the flies were the size of a hand, so why bother?
‘This way.’ Jacques said, pushing through one of said curtains, its glass beads clicking above the sound of soft chatter.
‘Zja-zja!’ A woman jumped from her recline and before Jacques could respond, she was already on his lips.
‘My dear.’ He grinned stupidly, blinking at her sudden closeness.
‘I missed you so-so much.’ The woman pouted her painted pretty lips before she turned her dark brown eyes towards Jack. ‘And you brought a ..present?’ She smiled.
‘Oh, yes. Couldn’t leave the poor bugger -’
‘My pleasure!’ She pushed her upturned hand towards Jack, who carefully pressed a kiss there.
‘Likewise. Jack.’
‘Stella.’
Jack cleared his throat and looked around the room. Some ten people were lounging about on dark green couches and the whole atmosphere seemed to breathe the pure and utter eroticism of decay. The lights were low, but Jack saw the slight fraying of the wallpaper. The wear-down of the shut curtains. The slight crookedness of the lamp shades that dimmed the chandelier’s many, many lights.
‘I’ve never seen you before.’ Stella said. With a tantalizing bite of the lip she looked down Jack’s physique. He was a good looking man with his square jaw, dark hair and crisp blue eyes. But he never seemed to be truly aware of it - or so it seemed. With a slight quirk of the eyebrow he questioned her intentions.
‘And! You won’t need to see him again.’ Jacques interfered, using his large palm to turn her attention back to him. ‘Oh my dearest dear!’
‘Oh my Zja-zja!’ She cooed back.
Before long Jack had lost interest in the lovebirds who started to french kiss each other like their life depended on it. With another clearing of his throat and a soft: ‘I’m going to look for some drinks,’ Jack moved to inspect the rest of the curious club.
Back in the hallway, the entrancing strum of a jazzy bassline lured Jack in closer. The people here were crowding and the air was hot. A quick beat was introduced and a trumpet cheered; people started dancing and before Jack could escape he was dragged into the moving body of the young and merry. They didn’t have these type of parties in England; there the men would hang out in dungy bars, losing their nickles and dimes on shots with ladies hardly worth the time.
Yet here. Here, there were ladies in abundance. Here the ladies were sweet and slick with sweat that drizzled down their provocatively deep-cut dresses. Here.. Jack hesitated as he stood amidst the dancing crowd. The upbeat drum became more hastened and everything seemed to swim.
‘Jack..?’
The grabbing hands that slithered around his jacket felt like hooks, clutching to him like..
‘I’m going to die, huh?’ Harry’s lip shivered as he lay there amidst the many fallen men. The bloody fields of Hannut stank of piss and sweat and shit. And here lay Harry. His childhood friend.
Jack gasped and looked around. The room and fields blurred into one indistinguishable mess of then and now.
‘No.’ Jack started to shake his head, hands wanting to grab for Harry who somehow continued to remain out of reach. ‘..noo..no you won’t!’ Jack screamed as a rogue tear fell from his cheek.
Suddenly he was back in the club, where people backed off like he wore the plague. The music hadn’t managed to drown out his heart wrenching sob and panicked cries, and were it not for the slightly muted lights, he surely would have seen the true terror in the eyes of the dancing crowd.
Fuck.
With hastened steps, Jack moved back to the hallway, ashamed of the way his heart still beat in agony. He had hoped that the liquor and ladies would soothe his aches, but his heart only screamed louder. Louder and louder and.. The drum returned like the drums on the fields.
Oh gods.
Gasping for breath he grasped onto the door that separated the dancing room from the hallway, where people were still giving him a few looks.
He felt so terribly lost and broken. It was like the war had eaten a part of him and spit out a mere shell. A shell with pretty blue eyes. One that made women want and men wonder. It was this shell that had gotten him his job as boy-errand for Jacques. The good looks helped to get an in, and for many months Jack had just followed Jacques lead, hoping that with time he’d feel the ache of war wear off.
Those same many months he would lay sleepless in bed. Sweating and hoping, wishing, waiting that it would get better.
Perhaps he just needed another drink.
Turning to the left he entered a room with a long table. A low light hung just above it, washing milky light over hairy hands that moved poker chips back and forth. It was hard to see at first who these men were. Perhaps he shouldn’t have entered. But then there was also the intrigue.
With careful steps Jack moved around the table, watching as the men continued on, undisturbed. In the darker corners of the room were a few women as well. Their hazy eyes looked up at him, though they too seemed to care little for his presence.
‘You!’ One of the man called and Jack swiftly turned heel. The stress of the war fell away as he noted who it was; the peculiar man from the bistro. What was his name again? Manari? Minaria? Jack moved closer and greeted the man without disturbing the others.
Where the rest of the house was filled with conversation, here the room was hushed. The only sounds were the swallowed sound of the music further up in the house, alongside the clicking of poker chips, the sucking on cigarettes and the mumbling of the men.
‘Jack, wasn’t it?’ The man quirked an eyebrow at Jack, smiling. ‘Come sit down with me.’
Miniri? Maniri? Jack just couldn’t grasp the man’s name, and so he just did as requested.
‘Luigi, your call.’ One of the other men nodded.
Luigi, that was it. But what was his last name? Sinking down on the proferred seat, Jack unbuttoned his jacket and watched as Luigi moved coins to the mountainous stack in the middle.
‘All in.’
The other men grumbled and snarled, but Luigi didn’t care. He just smiled and turned his frame to get a better look at Jack.
‘You look like you can use a drink.’
‘Indeed.’ Jack breathed out.
‘Madame!’ He snipped his fingers and a woman appeared from one of the dark corners. ‘Champagne please!’
Jack gasped. ‘Oh no, no. Some beer or..’
‘Eh!’ Luigi shushed him and grinned.
Jack frowned. ‘Why.. champagne is for celebrating and you have not even won!’
‘But I will! And if not..well..let us celebrate friendship.’
‘Friendship?’
‘Indeed. And if not..’ Luigi shrugged.
Jack smiled and sniffled back the last of the tears that burned his eyes. Real men didn’t cry now, did they?
‘Thank you.’ With a sigh he settled back in his chair. He was a little rattled by the trauma that had reared its ugly head just now, but Luigi’s ease was perfectly soothing. Even with this man being obviously a good many ranks above him in stature and earnings, he treated Jack like an equal. Or better yet.. a new friend. Jack cleared his thoughts and turned to Luigi as well.
‘Seen that woman since?’
‘Her? No, no. Ha! But got a sweet deal out it with Delancour.’
Jack wondered for a moment what or who Delancour was, but he felt it inappropriate to ask. Why couldn’t he be as suave and amiable as these men? He felt so young in his years. Then again, he figured that he just really needed to practise before he could be like Jacques; fake it, until you make it, Jack-boy.
‘A little tense there, huh?’ Luigi’s French-italian accent was funnily unnerving and Jack smiled, shaking his head. Just never fake your smiles.
Jack sighed and nodded his head, watching as more and more men folded away their cards. ‘Just haven���t been out since the war.’
‘Ah, the war!’ Luigi smacked his lips and turned to reach for the filled champagne glasses that had appeared behind their backs. The pretty crystal cut goblets shone pretty spots of light on their arms as they toasted. ‘It’s like there’s no end to it!’
--
Jack’s stomach rumbled quietly, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to interfere.
‘But you see my mother is not all bad.’ Luigi said, sitting in the window sill. Outside dusk had settled in over the Tuscan hills, and with every puff of Luigi’s cigarette, a new small cloud flew up in the pitch black dark. For a good many minutes the two men had conversed. Or better yet: Luigi had spoken about his peculiar mother, and Jack had listened. Sitting on the floor, with his back against the bed, he was rolling fresh cigarettes to smoke - he enjoyed those more than the factory made.
‘So free women are bad?’ Jack lit one of his freshly rolled cigarettes and looked through the smoke at Luigi. Luigi kept his face turned to the gardens outside.
‘No. No. More like..’ Luigi shrugged. ‘You just don’t marry free women. You see Jack. There’s two types of women. The women that make your blood boil and cock hard. And the ones that soothe your pains and raise your flock. Can’t have both, never both.’
‘Might as well not have any women at all then, hmm?’ Jack grinned, allowing himself to sneak a peek at the key hole that was still far darker than it should be. Was he right? Was someone there? And if so, could he guess who? Sucking on his cigarette again he returned his attention to Luigi, who hastily looked away from him.
‘Yea..yea. Women..’ Luigi cleared his throat and dragged a long breath from his near-finished cigarette.
‘Do you..want a family though?’ Jack leaned into the bed and folded an arm over the neatly made bed. Luigi shrugged, keeping his eyes where Jack couldn’t see.
‘And risk losing it all, again?’ A tinge of sadness crossed Luigi’s usually preppy and confident tone of voice.
Jack sat up and stood to place a hand on Luigi’s shoulder.
‘I’m sorry about Alfi, man. Truly. But we’ll find him.’
Luigi kept his head turned away, jaw tight. ‘It’s not that.’
Jack hesitated. With cautious eyes he watched Luigi stare out into the dark nothingness. A few silent moments followed, before Luigi finally, though testily continued.
‘We’re cursed, that’s what. Every time good things happen for our business, another one of us bites the dust.’
Jack remained quiet.
‘First it was Zazoo..’ Luigi sighed and flicked his cigarette out onto the terraces below. ‘It was our first big deal that brought us out of the shitter. He was..barely seventeen. Three bullets in the head. And then there was Paris.’
‘Paris?’ Jack asked. Luigi sighed again and offered a half-smile over his shoulder.
‘Way before you and I met, English.’
‘Tell me.’
Luigi bit his lip and shook his head. ‘It was a mess. Father was sick for months. We needed the cash. We were all young boys, hardly capable. But family is family and business is business. We’d have a simple deal with another Italian family. Snip-snap hand in cash.’ Luigi flicked his wrists. ‘But instead it was snip-snap Piero is dead.’
Luigi spat out the window.
‘You took care of that?’
Jack was near shocked to hear himself say it. But he knew what The Business was. And he had chosen to come here. Like a moth would come to a flame, even if it knew that it would burn. With a tight throat he watched Luigi’s lips curl in a thoughtful smile.
‘Ever the detective.’ He said.
Jack felt a cold shiver run up his spine as Luigi pushed himself off from the window sill. Suddenly the large man felt near threatening as he looked deep into Jack’s eyes. A silent second passed as Jack looked back, waiting for this to be the fire that would melt down his wings.
But no. Luigi smiled, genuinely.
‘To me you’re Jack though.’
Jack let out the softest of sighs, and Luigi took it for an invitation to pull his English friend in for another hug.
‘There’s few like you Jack. Truly.’ Luigi backed away and cleared off invisible dust off Jack’s open hanging jacket. With admiring eyes he watched down Jack’s half-unbuttoned blouse, before he looked up. ‘So very few.’
Jack wasn’t sure what that meant. Italians always tended to be a bit more intense with relationships, so his friendship with Luigi left him at times a little unnerved. But then again, it was fine. Luigi was the man who had pretty much saved him from death by trauma. And he was the one who accidentally had introduced him to her.
Lucia.
--
There was something exhilarating about Paris after the war. After years of suffering and pain, people wanted to live. And they wanted to live hard. Jazzy pop and cigarettes filled the nightly skies. And if not working, Jack found himself more often than not in the company of either Jacques or Luigi.
The two men were like fire and ice. Jacques was calculating and gentle. Luigi was fiery and extravagant. And now Jacques’ attention had turned towards his new lady-love Stella, Jack found himself more and more often in the company of Luigi.
Luigi appeared to be a textbook style caricature of an Italian man. Or so Jack thought. He had the slicked back hair, well cut suit and sparkling, mischievous eyes. But there were also some elements that were perhaps just typically Luigi. Like the ever-present hands that smoothed around Jack’s shoulders and back. The resting gazes and tight pressed hugs.
Perhaps it was just Luigi.
Where was he anyways?
Sucking on his cigarette, Jack looked around the fairylike-lit courtyard. People stood around under the glow of the lights smoking cigarettes, all huddled away in their coats. Spring had come a few weeks ago, but the nights were still chilly.
Looking around in the half-dark, Jack could recognise a few faces, but not Luigi. He likely had found himself another type of entertainment. A lady perhaps? Who knew.
Jack sighed and killed his burned out cigarette beneath his well-polished shoe. If not for Luigi, he sure could find some different entertainment, right? Turning to the party inside, he was soon back in the lavish palace-like home of Monsieur Martinique-de-Boncour. The old man was rich and cared little for high society, but apparently these type of parties did please his wife who now stood by the grand piano, singing some hardly bearable tunes.
Turning to his right, Jack found himself in the lobby. People were mostly here in passing, couples all arm-to-arm as they either moved out for air, or to the backyard for love. Jack, however, was alone.
‘Jack right?’ Another man stepped in. Wide-shouldered, but in fact no more than a boy. Jack turned on his heel and outstretched a welcoming hand.
‘Indeed. Pleasure to meet you, mister..’
‘Maniari. Big.’
‘Ah, I see. Family of Luigi, then?’
‘Indeed.’ The boy already had the smug look down, eyes studying Jack for a moment before his attention moved to a familiar face. Luigi, slightly deep in his cups came strutting into the room. By his side he had two lovely ladies, the two of them either just as drunk, or terribly enamoured.
‘Family! Family!’ Luigi laughed before he noticed Jack. With a swaggering step Luigi freed himself from the ladies, two arms wrapping tightly around Jack. ‘And a friend!’ A wet kiss was pressed on Jack’s cheek. ‘Good! Where’s Alfi?’
‘Only God knows.’ Big sighed, reverting his attention back to the entertainment room where Mrs. Martinique-de-Boncour gave a rather shrieky rendition of Toute Le Jour, Toute La Nuit.
Luigi wet his lips and let his eyes fall on a woman who passed by with an even more exaggerated swagger. With a wrinkly hand she grasped for a curtain, near dragging it down as she tried to steady herself. It was then she laughed, ridiculously hard. Even the crowd in the entertainment room by the door took a gander.
‘Oh my..’ Luigi tutted and wrapped an arm around Jack’s wide shoulders. ‘Would you look at that.’
Jack felt the innate need to help the poor woman, but the men just stood there, chuckling. There was some type of distaste on their lips as they watched the woman struggle to get up on her old, but dainty feet.
‘I am well! Please!’ The woman snarled as she was helped up by another woman who passed by. With a sharp tug the old woman righted herself, shoulders pushing back to take on a more confident mien. She wore an oriental type of dress. It stood out from the crowd of auburn and champagne frocks that most women wore. Like molting purple gemstones it wrapped around her, all the up to her slender neck.
With a sure nod she greeted the Italian brothers, who didn’t bother to nod back.
‘Do you require assistance madame?’ Jack asked. With a sure step he moved towards the woman, leaving Luigi’s arm falling down behind him. The woman blinked at him and tilted her head. Perhaps Jack had just done something uncalled for, because her eyes betrayed that she was taken aback by his gesture. With quick flitting eyes she looked at the Maniari brothers behind Jack.
‘A new family member?’ She said testily.
‘Oh shush it Lucia.’ Big groaned.
She frowned and looked at Luigi, but the big brother did not intervene. Instead Luigi’s eyes bore into Jack’s back. He was obviously not amused with the way how Jack had side-stepped from his brotherly arm-on-shoulder. Slowly he returned his gaze to Lucia, who received all the annoyance a man could muster.
‘Could have chosen a better frock, hmm. No longer mourning your husband, I see?’
Lucia returned his disgusted stare. ‘Do not speak of my Leo, Luigi.’ A flicker of emotion moved behind her high cheekbones.
‘Yea yea. I hope it was worth it!’
Lucia’s eyes started to spit fire. ‘I did ..not! I did not ki-- I..’ She sputtered as Luigi and Big continued their way to the entertainment room.
‘Come on then Jack, want to hear some of our hostesses’ fine singing?’ Luigi called, but Jack stayed, eyes remaining fixed on the woman named Lucia. She had olive skin, a slightly Italian lilt and fire in the eyes. Even with the Maniari brother’s hurting words, they glittered with the promise of hell and passion.
Again, perhaps Italians were just all like that.
Stepping forward Jack hoped that people would stop staring. Lucia, however, couldn’t be bothered by the stares. With another burst of laughter she started shaking her head.
‘All of you. Sheep! You’re sheep!’ She turned her gaze to all who dared to look, but just as curious as they had been moments earlier, so ashamed were they of looking at her now.
‘And you..’ She looked at Jack. ‘I don’t know you.’
Jack smiled. He liked her. ‘Not part of the family.’ He said.
‘Good.’
--
The man in the bushes ducked down a little more. A light burst from the small shed he had been investigating. And though the night was dark, he felt suddenly aware of his exposed position behind the young Cypress trees. A car was parked just outside the shed and a few minutes earlier he had seen someone enter, shrouded in mystery and a long raincoat.
Peering into the quiet, he watched as the light beam shifted. It was as expected.
‘Oh mom..’ He sighed.
The light died out again.
--
Jack hoped that dinner would be served soon. His stomach was growling after the long day of rent collecting and fruitless investigating. Leaning into the window frame he watched Luigi. Luigi kept a pensive gaze out of the window, cigarette in hand.
Outside the first lisps of mist were crawling over the darkened Tuscan hills, and it wouldn’t be long before everything would start to look like a scene out of a classy horror movie. Luigi, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by the gloomy scenery. With focused eyes he was looking at something in the distance.
‘See that?’ He asked, puffing out smoke. Jack stepped in and followed his pointing finger. Right through the mists, some few hundred meters from the house, came a light. It was nearly too small to catch if you didn’t know what you were looking for, but it was definitely there. And it blinked. Which was curious. Was it a car?
A little thump broke the silence.
Luigi reared his head towards the source - the door - and before Jack could intervene, Luigi had rushed towards the hallway where two Bambi-big eyes stared up at him. Jack followed in quick pursuit and like always he had been right; someone had been staring at them through the keyhole. Bunny. Brown haired, long legged, ever curious; Bunny.
Since their meeting in the village square Jack had wanted to get a word in with her. But with the thrill of a literal chase, followed by the whirlwind that was the Maniari household, he simply hadn’t managed. Besides, it was likely not a good idea to be alone with her, lest he be daring to face the wrath of Augusto.
‘Looks like little Bunny wants trouble, huh?’ Luigi grasped her by her shirt collar and started dragging her down the winding staircase until they stood before one of the most dreaded doors in the entire house. With little squeals and whines Bunny tried to fight Luigi off, but he held a tight grip on her.
With a sharp rap he knocked the door three times. And were it not for Jack to be right behind them, he would have missed the little exchange brother and sister made.
‘I do love you.’ Luigi whispered as the door was opened by a bored looking bodyguard.
Bunny stiffened and as she was pushed inside, Jack and Luigi were also invited in.
‘What?’ Augusto grumbled from behind his desk. He was hiding behind a newspaper the size of a tablecloth.
Luigi cleared his throat, which left Jack just enough time to step in instead.
‘Before we do continue, sir --’
The newspaper was lowered and two dark eyes stared over its edge.
Jack nodded his head in greeting and continued: ‘I’d report on my findings regarding your missing son.. Alfonso.’
Augusto kept a straight face. ‘Well, I don’t see him here, do I now?’
Jack tilted his head, thinking. ‘Indeed. Yet he may not be far. Even ..close-by. I’d like to perform more rigorous searches tomorrow, early morning, when tracks are fresh. Also, do you happen to have a pair of his shoes that I could take for measurement and wear and tear?’
Augusto lifted an eyebrow. ‘Shoes.’
Their eyes met.
‘Even one shoe would help considerably.’
‘You think he’s alive?’ Augusto said with a tinge of melancholy.
‘There’s no signs of the contrary, so there is a good chance he --’
‘Number Three will see to it. Luigi?’ Augusto looked towards his son, who still held firmly onto a stiff-standing Bunny.
Luigi tilted up his chin. ‘The usual.’
Augusto sighed in utter annoyance as his dark beady eyes shifted towards Bunny. She visibly shivered, though her face remained stoic. ‘Might as well have you married off and done with. Would you like that Bunny-dear?’
Bunny kept her gaze focused on the bookcase that stretched along one of the walls. Everything here was brown; the mahogany wood, the smoke-tainted leather, the chesthair that poked out of the men’s crisp white shirts. It was the very last place a woman like her wanted to be. That much was clear. Especially now Augusto raised from his seat.
With a grunt and slow, stiff joints, the man pushed himself up from behind his desk. A silence fell over the room as he awkwardly shuffled forward until he stood in the middle of the room, arms folding behind his back. With a plopping lick of his lips he shook his head.
‘So many sons. Good sons. And then there is you.’
Bunny looked up and pain flashed behind her lashes. She shut her eyes in shame.
‘Always causing trouble. From the day you could walk, you did everything you shouldn’t.’ He stepped forward and used his grubby finger to tilt up her chin. ‘Now look at you.’
Jack felt a rush of dizziness come over him. Perhaps it was the hunger in his stomach. And perhaps it was the start of another war flashback.
‘Look at me Jack. I’m here.’
Bunny was struck across the cheek with a snapping flat hand.
‘It’s okay. Breath for me.’
Another slap to the other cheek.
'I’m right here.’
Bunny let the force of her father’s hand turn her face towards Jack. Her eyes found his.
‘Right here.’
A silent tear fell from Bunny’s pained eyes, but she did not give a kick. Jack looked back.
‘Don’t ever let them take your worth Jack-my-sweet.’ Lucia’s long fingers curled around his cheek and for a moment the harsh looks of the aristocrats at the party fell away. Not even the war could trouble him beneath her fingertips. She smiled. ‘I mean there’s only so few who know a woman’s worth.’
‘What if I can’t? Can’t do it?’
‘There’s always a way.’
--
Chap 5 >
--
General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama @maddyreads14
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hell
Yannoe that incorrect quote that’s like, I would f//ck a demon cuz of status, when your stroll into hell and everyone else is panicking but your sugar daddy’s just there?
Well that’s what this fic is lmao
Hitoshi Shinso x reader
Demon!Shinso who doesn’t go to UA
Genre : fluff, comedy possibly
Warnings : swearing, hell(?)
Words : 2,316
Masterlist
A/N : it’s a very stereotypical hell, apologies lmao
this is also a very ooc shinso cuz i’ve never written for him b4
Hope you enjoy!
The events following your classes’ arrival to the rescue centre were certainly a mess. One moment Thirteen had been explaining about them self and their quirk, and the next a vast mass of villains had shown up. A mass of purple clouds had swallowed all of you up whole and scattered you across the centre, leaving you with the weaker villains.
Well that was what was supposed to happen. Instead, you had drop onto a one way staircase of marble, surrounded by rivers and waterfalls of lava.
“Why the fuck is it so hot in here?” someone curses out. You turn to see Bakugou taking off a piece of his costume, sweat already dripping down the side of his face.
“Are we still in the rescue centre?” a certain red hair asks, deactivating his quirk that he had unconsciously started using when he was sucked into the warp.
Before you can even get a word in, a small, cute imp pops up out of nowhere, a small trident in it’s hands. “Welcome to hell!” it cheers, a large grin on it’s face as it’s wings beat the hot air around, turning around to look at you. “Welcome back Lady Y/N, it’s been a while since we last saw you.”
You hum in response, booping the small creature. “I must say I didn’t recognise it here, must’ve changed a lot.”
“It knows you?” Kirishima asks. You nod, not bothering to elaborate more as the imp answers your question.
“Not at all mistress.” it responds, flying around before settling on Kirishima’s shoulder, the said boy tensing up almost immediately before softly rubbing the imp’s cheek. “You simply hadn’t seen the outside of the castle.”
“Sorry to break up your little reunion.” Bakuogu snorts, stomping up to Kirishima and grabbing the imp by it’s tail. “but how the fuck can we get out of this shit hole?”
“Well that’s not very nice.” it chides, stabbing him in the hand with the point of the tail before flying to settle on your head. “You can leave if master allows it.” it continues, ignoring Bakugou’s hisses and threats towards it.
“Well shall we go then?” Kirishima suggests, to which you agree. “Come on Bakubro, stop being a wimp.”
“Who the fuck are you calling a wimp huh?”
You ignore the boys, beginning to climb the stairs. The stair case seems endless, one step followed by a thousand more.
“Why the fuck are there so many stairs?” Bakugou shouts, rubbing his forehead with his arm.
“Because it’s long and tortuous.” the imp laughs, sticking it’s tongue out at Bakugou to which he responds with another curse.
“Would you like me to teleport you mistress?” it asks.
“Does that offer include the boys?” you ask, not bothering to turn around and look at them.
“No it doesn’t”
“What why not?” Kirishima asks. “That’s not very fair.”
You can hear the pout in his voice. “Then I’d love to take you up on that offer.”
“Y/N you bitch, don’t you dare leave us- HEY! Come back here now!”
By the time he finishes his sentence, you’re already gone.
“Bro she just left us.” Kirishima complains, but he’s drowned out by Bakugou’s ear piecing screams of anger.
He sighs and shakes his head, continuing the steps up.
After what seems to feel like hours, they finally reach a massive gateway, It opens up to another set of stairs, this time the temperature much cooler than before and the stairs seem to be made out of pure gold, decorated with velvet trails of red.
“This way!” the imp calls out, reappearing in mid air.
“You little shit-” Bakugou calls out, leaping into the air to grab it, but it simply flies away, leaving him to fall clumsily onto his feet.
Kirishima follows along, pulling Bakugou by the arm, making sure he didn’t stomp off like a child.
After a few twisty corridors, then find themselves in a massive hall, the ceiling held up with columns of red and gold, a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the centre. Painting and tapestry littered the baroque architecture and near the back of the hall sat a massive throne, one that could probably fit at least a dozen people.
The boys look to see you sat across someone’s lap, you head against their shoulder as they fed you grapes.
“Oh, look who finally made it.” you smile, giving Bakugou a wink as you see literal steam emitting from his ears.
He starts scowling at you but Kirishima simply laughs. “So Y/N are you gonna explain anything or?”
“This is Hitoshi!” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck as he smiles adoringly at you. “He’s the demon king of hell.” you nod approvingly at your introduction, whereas it only brought more questions to his friends.
“And you know him because...” Kirishima starts, trying to get you to continue explaining your story.
“Oh, he’s like... hmm.” You pause, trying to look for a good term to label your relationship as. You had accidentally stumbled across summoning the demon when you tried to combine your quirk which witchcraft, which led the latter to become infatuated with you, the first human who had even summoned him in his thousands of years alive.
Your room had began to fill with smoke and now matter your use of quirk or fanning air through the window, the wouldn’t seem to disappear. That’s when you realised the mass of black forming in the centre of the smoke.
You shrieked and climbed out of the window, jumping down rather ungracefully before sprinting down the road. Your parents were at work so there was no point in staying in the house.
As you turned the corner, you bumped into someone, falling backwards. They stepped forward and caught you by the waist, lifting you up to meet a gorgeous purple haired man with deep sunken eyes and a Cheshire grin.
“Um thanks.” you quickly said, stepping away and getting ready to run away again when he spoke.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked.
“I think there’s someone in my house.” you said, your adrenaline now leaving you with the fear.
“Oh that was me.” he replied curtly, giving you a grin as he watched your face morph into fear, and then quickly anger.
You raised you leg, kicking him directly in the nuts.
“Bro I could’ve been changing on something.” you threw your hands up in the air. “Who gave you the right to just waltz into my house.”
“Um you actually.” he spluttered, squatting down on the floor as he struggled to regain his composure. He was the demon king for fuck’s sake and not only had some mere human ran away after summoning him but then they proceeded to kick him in the balls. The audacity!
“What?”
“You summoned me.” he glared.
You pursed your lips. “How?”
“How am I supposed to know?” he retorted. “No one’s done that before.”
You stared down at him, inching your face closer and studying his features. “Can I return you?”
“What the fuck?” He raised his head abruptly, head butting you as you stumbled back a few steps.
“What?” you shouted, rubbing your sore forehead as he stood up again. “I didn’t try and summon you, it was an accident.”
“Well I can’t go back until you make a deal with me.” the man sighed, placing his arms on his hips.
“Yeah no.” you replied almost instantly, turning on your heel and leaving. If he was telling the truth and was indeed the one in your room, then you could go home with no worry.
“Hey, don’t ignore me you human!” he shouted, catching up with you and walking next to you.
“Can’t you like, I don’t know, leave me alone?” you asked desperately.
“No. You have to make a contract with any demon that you summon within 7 days or your soul will be taken.”
“Uh huh.” you nodded. “Can I make a deal with you to leave me alone?”
“Technically yes, but you’ll also need to pay a price.”
“Oh my fucking god.” you screamed, banging you head against your front door. “What’s the price then?”
“Hmm I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the one spewing this nonsense about a contract.”
“Oh, it’s just I get to choose the price. I’m not too sure what I want from you yet.”
You rolled your eyes, walking over to underneath your window before boosting yourself up with you quirk, perching on the window sill as you stared down at him.
“You’re cute. But also fucking insane bro.” you commented, stepping into your room and closing the window.
“Well that wasn’t very nice.” he said, reappearing in your room.
You screeched, jumping back. “Bro please leave me alone.” you begged, sitting down defeated on your bed with your head in your hands.
“Nope. I’ve decided.”
“What will it be?” you asked uninterested, deciding that you’re fate had been sealed already. You were going to die anyways, why not go by a hot demon.
“You’ll be my friend.”
“What the fuck no.”
“I do admit that I’m rather a lonesome person, I could perhaps do with some of your...” he looked you up and down before finishing, “presence.”
You snorted. “Don’t you have any demon friends?”
“The king has no friends.” he replied simply.
“And you’re like the king?” you raised your eyebrow at him.
“No darling, I am the king.”
“He’s like my friend?” you question, looking at Shinso for an answer. He simply shrugs with a smile before holding up another grape for you.
“Friends?” Bakugou snorted. “I don’t see you cuddling up to all of your friends in the dorms.”
“Humph fine.” you pout. “Like sugar daddy? I don’t know, but you do give me a lot of things.”
“That’s simply because I like you.” Shinso replies, a soft smile on his lips.
You respond with a large grin, sitting up to give me a kiss on the cheek whilst you hear Bakugou cough “Disgusting.” underneath his breath.
“Can’t you like, keep Bakugou here and torture him endlessly?”
“I’m afraid that’s against the rules.”
“Or you could recruit him, since he’s a literal demon himself.”
Kirishima laughs at your comment, before asking “So how can we go back? Our friends might be in danger so we need to go back as soon as possible.”
“Alrighty Hitoshi, can you teleport us back?”
He responds with a hum before you find yourselves back in the centre.
You look around to see Kirishima and Bakugou getting up from the floor, Bakugou shouting about how he didn’t need to have dropped them from such a high place. He stops when he sees the Nomu, it’s foot perched upon your teacher’s head. You start to run to him when you realise Shinso is flying mid air, still holding you in his arms.
“Hey, how strong are you?” you ask.
“Pretty strong I’d say. Why?”
“Do you think you could blow that muscle bird away. It’s kinda ugly.” you comment, pointing at the Nomu. “But like, keep the human underneath it, I kinda need him stil alive.”
“Your wish is my command.” he replies, before he flicks his wrist, the nomu being lifted high into the air and tossed to the side of the centre.
“Holy shit.” a male voice shouts. “That bird is invincible, how did someone do that?”
You turn to see Mineta shouting by the side of the water zone, your lips curling in digust. “Ew gross.”
“Would you like me to get rid of him?”
“Maybe another day.” you reply.
The doors suddenly burst open to reveal All Might, standing there in all of his muscly glory.
He begins to fight with the Nomu as you lean back in Shinso’s chest.
“So like, could you get his body off the playing field?” you ask, pointing at Aizawa.
Shinso hums in response, lifting Aizawa’s body and following it toward the exit of the centre.
“Hey Tsuyu, could you take him?” you shout and she nods quickly, wrapping her tongue around his and pulling him towards the ambulances outside.
“Alrighty, how about we wrap things up.”
Shinso hands you a magical gun and you enhance it with your quirk. With one beat of his wings, you two gets proceeding closer to the nomu, before you shoot it’s expose brain. It halts momentarily, unable to regenerate too quickly, and the perfect opening in created, All Might landing a punch and sending it flying off, out of the centre’s roof.
“Well that was fun.”
“I don’t think we can say the same for your friends.”
You look over to see a few of your classmates very ruffled up, buts and bruises littering them. “Oof.”
“Should I put you down?”
“Nah, you’re comfy.”
Bonus :
“Y/N, are you going to see your demon boyfriend any time soon?” Kirishima calls out in the living room of the dooms.
“Demon boyfriend?” Uraraka pipes up, catching the interest of many classmates.
“Hmm?” you hum in response, looking up from your phone. “Maybe when I feel like it, why?”
“Well I heard there’s a special type of crocodile skin in the demon realm where it’s unbreakable and I was wondering if I could reference it for my quirk or costume?”
You nod in response. “Sure thing, I can give him a call.”
“Um no you won’t.” Uraraka cuts in. “You are going to tell him to come here because I want to see your boyfriend.”
“Um why though?”
“Because we’re best friends and you didn’t even think to tell me you were dating someone?” she pouts and you instantly feel bad.
“Sorry sorry Ochako. Sure.” you quickly reply.
“No you are not inviting that bastard over.” Bakugou shouts from the kitchen.
“Well more of a reason to invite him I guess.” you laugh.
#bnha#bnha fanfiction#bnha bakugou#bnha imagine#mha#mha imagine#mha imagines#mha bakugou#mha fanfiction#aizawa shouta#shinsou x y/n#shinso#shinsō hitoshi#shinso hitoshi#shinso x reader#shinso x y/n#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#bnha x reader fluff#kirishima eijirou#bnha incorrect quotes
123 notes
·
View notes
Text
Umbrella Pt. 2
Bakugou x fem!reader
Anonymous said:
can i rq for a part 2 for the umbrella fanfic of bakugou? i really love your writings!!
A/N: Sure! Just a little warning though, I wrote Umbrella about 2 years ago (and it was one of my first one-shots ever or maybe my actual first) so my style is a bit different now. I hope it’s not too noticeable (or at least it’s better!)
You don’t have to read the first one to read this one, but it does give context. Here it is.
Also, this isn’t a songfic, but listen to the music for maximum feels.
youtube
. . .
There was nothing worse than rain in the winter. Unlike the warm rain of the summer or the cleansing rain of autumn, winter rain fell in never-ending icy sheets.
Much like the sudden onslaught of heavy rains, class 1-A was suffering from a change in tone as well. It had only been a couple of weeks since Bakugou Katsuki had been kidnapped from the training grounds, and while he came back unscathed, the fear and paranoia he brought back with him stuck. The thought that villains could invade supposedly “safe” places whenever they wanted, and kidnap even the strongest of students, loomed over everyone’s heads.
You let out a loud sigh, packing away your gym clothes and preparing to go home. The one good part about the rain was the fact that you were staying later at school and training more. You could watch the sunset too, and empty wet buses are always better than crowded wet buses.
You walked swiftly to the main entrance, thinking of the root of your worries: Bakugou. Even if he acted tough, he was still human, and humans don’t just walk away from a kidnapping completely fine. The changes were subtle but there: he trained harder than before, was a bit jumpier when you caught him by surprise. You had always considered him this impenetrable force of nature, but sometimes you forgot, sometimes everyone forgot, that he was still just a teenager.
Standing under the overhang, you pushed rustled out your umbrella, still wet from use this morning. You clicked open and stepped out into the soaked gray world. Water beat mercilessly down for a split second as you slipped under the curtain of water streaming down the roof, before turning into a lighter drumming. You shivered as wind whipped through your clothing, misting your face in rain. It really was freezing outside.
You didn’t even know why you were so worried for him. One would think that they would fear their own safety first, but maybe that just wasn’t in your nature. You just cared for him and you couldn’t help it. The two of you weren’t lovers, in fact, you wouldn’t even count yourself among his close friends, yet you just cared for him.
The closest spark of romance between you two was that time months ago when he had kept you safe from the rain, and while the rain was much more pleasant that day than it was now, your thoughts still traveled back to that moment. Even though nothing came from it, it was still the sweetest display of care that you had seen from him since. At the very least, you never forgot your umbrella again.
You glanced left and right down the long deserted sidewalks to cross the street, but paused when you noticed a bright splotch of red through the blurry rain. It was many streets down, and you could barely make out the small blonde tuft. He was just standing there, still.
Your heart skipped a beat, feeling a little uneasy. Perhaps you were just unused to seeing him calm, but he just looked so sad and lonely, all alone. Despite the biting winds and your desire to get home, you felt compelled to stray from your path and go comfort him. As you veered off the main road, you found yourself clumsily dodging more and more puddles as the sidewalk became less and less smooth. Rain ran downhill from you, kicking up at the fronts of your shoes and flowing in a sheet down. He spotted your brightly colored umbrella bobbling towards him, and he watched with amusement as your rain slicked form tottered into view.
As you got closer you realized that he was standing in a park, or more like a small patch of grass scarcely large enough to house a swing set. And as you crossed the street to him, you realized that he was actually looking at the far more impressive view of the city below, sparkling with wet golden light. Panting slightly from the uphill climb, you finally reached him.
“Bakugou! What are you doing up here?” You called.
“I could ask you the same, (y/n).”
“What?” You made your way closer, as the drumming of rain on your umbrella seemed to drown out all sound.
“Why’re you here?” He asked, much louder. You flinched at the harsh tone but understood that that was just what Bakugou’s normal voice sounded like. Somehow, he wasn’t nearly as wet as you were, and was remarkably just in a t-shirt and sweats, while you were bundled up in a thick jacket.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay!” You said, reaching a point where the two of you couldn’t get any closer because your umbrellas were bumping.
“Of course I’m okay why wouldn’t I be.” He grumbled.
“Well I didn’t think you were the type to just stare at pretty views, so of course I got worried.”
“I can stare at whatever I damn so please.”
You were about to drop the subject, but you remembered the small changes in his demeanor over the past couple weeks, and decided to press him more.
“You don’t have to act tough around me okay?.”
His lips curled and he stepped away a bit, and you were afraid that you went too far.
“Who said I’m acting?!”
You gave him a pointed look and he let out an angry huff, looking to the side and biting at his lip.
“C’mon Bakugou… you can talk to me.”
He frowned, before muttering something you couldn’t quite hear.
“Say that again?” You asked, trying to move closer but the jostling of the umbrellas merely flicked water in your face.
“Nothing. Just… What's said here stays here okay?”
You smiled warmly at him, happy that he was allowing himself to open up. The smile quickly vanished when a brutally cold gust of wind flew by you. Bakugou and his hot quirk didn’t seem to be all too affected. He seemed to think for a moment, parsing through his feelings before forming words.
“I guess… I guess I feel like I need to appreciate this more.” The tips of his ears were starting to turn red. He didn’t understand why in the world he was admitting this to you, but you were the first person to genuinely ask him like that.
“What’s ‘this’?”
“Like the world and stuff.” He huffed, gesturing vaguely at the wet streets, embarrassed that you were making him explain more.
“Yes, the world is lovely.” You said patiently, not quite understanding.
“Cause what if they killed me? I mean it’s not like they could have. But what if they did?”
“Then you wouldn’t be able to treasure pretty things anymore.” You finished sadly for him.
“Yeah.”
He turned away from you to look down at the city again, face finally looking a bit more relaxed. You let him collect his thoughts for a moment.
“Were you scared?”
He narrowed his eyes at you and you thought for sure he was going to yell at you for even suggesting it. But his answer surprised you.
“Of course I was fucking scared. I thought they would torture me for information or some shit.”
In the many months that you had known him, you had never heard Bakugou outright admit something like that.
“Like yeah I attacked them, but that’s only cause I knew that was my only chance. If I didn’t fight they would tie me back up and probably kill me. And… and if fucking Deku didn’t come I would have lost.” He let out a loud groan, obviously upset that he had to be rescued. “Fuck.”
You let out a noise of concern, reaching out to touch his arm.
“It’s… I’m…” He struggled for the word, the frustration building back onto his face. His eyes were starting to get glassy and he was practically shaking in frustration. “I’m weak. Fuck… I’m so damn weak.”
“Bakugou no you’re not.”
You pulled your umbrella closed and dropped it on the ground with a clack, before stepping forward to give him a big hug. He jolted back in surprise, almost dislodging you.
“You aren’t weak. All this shows is that you’re not invincible.”
“But-”
“Stop it. One defeat doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. You accessed the situation and fought because that was the best solution. You fought even though you knew you would lose, because you had to. You decided to go down taking as many villains as you could with you, instead of just accepting defeat. And if that’s not heroic… then I don’t know what is.” You murmured, voice softer now that you were close enough.
“Don’t… don’t say that…”
You patted his back soothingly as his arms gripped your back, pulling you closer away from the rain. His unsteady breath ghosted over your ear.
“Why not? I believe it.”
“I don’t… I don’t want your pity.” He choked out, starting to shake. “I-I’m…”
“Shh… shh…” You cooed gently. “Let it all out.”
“I-I don’t…”
You hummed lightly as he squeezed you tight, his shoulders shaking as warm tears fell into your hair.
“It must be hard… right? Pretending that everything is okay all the time?”
He only sobbed harder, and it pained you to know that he had been holding these fears in for weeks.
“It’s alright… you’re alright. We can stay here as long as you need.”
As you looked over his shoulder at the rain blotched city, you realized that you weren’t cold anymore. All that mattered was you and him, tucked away together in the washed away world.
#bnha bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#mha bakugou#mha x reader#mha#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#bnha#fluff#reader insert#katsuki bakugo x reader#mha fanfiction
99 notes
·
View notes
Text
Drowning Lessons
May in Hyogo is always gorgeous, perfect. Years later, May is less gorgeous than it is isolating. Osamu tries to fix that.
Miya Osamu x Reader
This is from the second chapter of my fic on AO3 Loving is Easy is you want to reader more. (TW: mentions of drowning)
Uneventful is peaceful, you tell yourself, as the days stretch into weeks and everything is routine. You wake up, go to school, wait for the twins outside the gym, go home; rinse, repeat for the next few weeks until it all comes grinding to a halt.
Back to back holidays provide an impromptu long weekend. Cool breezes break into drier heat in Hyogo as May comes with full force. Outside kids are running around while you attempt to drown out their screams from the discomfort of your home.
It wasn’t always like this, you think as curl into the couch to find a comfortable position. May in Hyogo is always gorgeous, perfect. The trees are at their peak foliage and picnics underneath them were frequent. This was back in the good old days of being seven and having no intrusive thoughts to corrupt the majesty of breaks.
You used to spend this time outside, with the twins of all people. Your mother, a teacher with responsibilities even during this time, would drop you off at the Miya household. Despite their mother being an intelligent, kind woman who was Wonder Woman in both your child and now teenaged eyes, there was only so much she could handle having twin boys and then dealing with you.
And so to the pool it was, where lifeguards were as equally responsible for you as she was. It wasn’t too long ago that you’d stopped going, and it hadn’t been for lack of ability. You just stopped feeling comfortable going.
It had happened in an instant, like all bad things. One moment you were happily swimming out to the deeper end, waiting for the twins to apply sunscreen. They always slapped it on with vigor and probably a healthy amount of brotherly malice, because it sounded like it stung. You were gliding on your back now, staring up at the mirrored perfect blue of the sky, and you just...sunk.
Next thing you know, you’re underwater telling yourself to just exhale, just let it all go. Take a deep breath of chlorine and piss water and just sink even further. Your jaw tightened subconsciously, afraid you might actually do it. Or maybe you were simply willing.
The twins came to your rescue. They hadn’t known that—and at the time neither did you—but you think about Osamu’s outstretched hand and his eyes, unblinking under the water. He was patient, and you took his hand, breaking the surface and whatever strange thoughts you had in your head.
Years later, May is less gorgeous than it is isolating. Your mother and father are at work and everyone you know is too far and cares too little to see you. The closest friends are the Miya twins, but they are at volleyball practice.
You think about this a lot. You’re thinking about this and everything else as you’re laying down in your house, dissociated and mindnumbingly bored when you hear the doorbell. Banging follows, along with someone saying “Are you really going to ignore the one person trying to hang out with you?”
Immediately you shuffle towards the door, unable to actually smile at the antics. You’re certain it’s Osamu—while he has a reputation for being more polite, it’s really just that he keeps his mouth shut. Once it’s open, it’s pretty much a mixed bag.
Plus, you know his voice. Atsumu always has this mischievous lilt that makes girls swoon while Osamu’s voice is deeper and more serious and also makes girls swoon.
You roll your eyes at the thought. You most definitely don’t want to swoon right now, especially as the banging continues.
The door swings open to reveal the grey haired twin, looking quite pissed off at making him wait. It’s been several weeks of them insisting to keep the color, and the metallic glimmer has faded for both of them. Osamu’s is still nicer, having faded into an almost dirty silver.
You're so lost in thinking about his hair that you don’t realize he’s just been standing in the doorway for about a minute. He gives your appearance a once over and his expression goes neutral once again.
“You look like shit.”
You could be inside, daydreaming a much nicer conversation with him instead of having this one. You consider slamming the door closed, but instead you sigh. “Don’t you have literally anyone else to be an asshole to?”
“Practice is over and Atsumu’s on a date with his person of the week so, no.”
You want to laugh, because it’s funny to see Osamu inadvertently say he misses his brother. But there’s something squeezing your heart that only produces a scoff. Osamu raises a brow, but instead of commenting on it he says “Are you letting me in?”
“Maybe I won’t,” you say, trying to keep a teasing air. You’re actually half serious about making him go home.
He hums, then produces something from his jacket pocket. It’s a set of keys, marked with the number 4. “I had an idea.”
Now you’re intrigued. You step aside and let him enter, but he doesn’t go far. He sits on the step just behind the entryway, and you move to do the same.
“You remember how we used to go to the municipal pool during break?”
You scrunch your eyebrows, looking at him with a strange expression. How on earth could he have been thinking of the same memory? What kind of soulmate shit was that?
“Yeah,” you say slowly, calculating what you’re going to say next. You’re still at a loss for words. “Why?”
“Well I know you hate crowds,”
“That was one time,”
“And I also know you hate public pools so,” he swings the keys around in his finger. “I got the keys to the school’s practice pool.”
You looked at the tiny silver keys around his finger, then back to his face. He was donning the smile that meant he was up to no good, one generally reserved for Atsumu. He was serious though, you could tell.
“How did you even come by those? Were they just laying around?”
“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically. “This is a timed offer, so I’ll need an answer now.”
“Now?” You screech, feeling pressured. This had to be some prank—why would Osamu come all the way to your house by himself to break into Inarizaki’s pool?
“Why didn’t you text me and ask earlier?”
“I’d have to come all the way here and get you anyways.”
“I can get to school by myself.”
“Sure you can.”
“Osamu,” you say seriously, hands on your hips and looking him dead in the eye. All teasing went out the window and he sighed, standing up.
“You can say no.” And you hear a palpable disappointment in those words that makes your gut twist. It’s hard to deny him when he’s presented you with such a brilliant plan; one worthy of a teen romance, you dare to think.
He’s looking out for you. Maybe he’s bored and wants to do something hairbrained and reckless, like the good old days.
But the Miya twins aren’t nostalgic, not in the way you are. Growing up with them, you were aware of their severe allergies to sentimentality. They never thought with retrospect or hindsight, preferring to barrel into a moment headfirst with each other. They never took the time to consider emotions, unless it affected them.
You were different. You were exhaustingly romantic and analytical, to the point where Atsumu and Osamu had no choice but to bully you back into reality. You thought—thought you knew for a fact—their feelings for you weren’t as strong as your own for them.
You started changing. Getting more and more distant and lost in daydreams. Maybe they did notice, and maybe this was like Osamu’s hand pulling you out of the water all those years ago, during a May just like this.
“I’ll go.”
*
It hadn’t occurred to you while you were getting ready, nor on the train ride to school that what you were doing might be a punishable offense.
Osamu has seemingly lost his tongue, because he’s not speaking to you as you make the trek to Inarizaki. There’s a smattering of clubs still on school grounds, such as the track and field team who runs in circles around the outdoor track. The boys are in nothing but tiny race shorts and you snort seeing such big boys in bright red.
“I never realized their shorts were so short,” you laugh, and then look at your companion. “Is that how you guys’ uniforms look?”
He spares a glance over you, then snorts. “I’d quit if they were.”
“I donno, I think I’d actually go to a game if they looked like that.”
He doesn’t say anything after that. The harsh afternoon heat makes you sweat almost everywhere, and when you see the gym marked 4, you’re glad for the reprieve.
“Wait,” you say, peeking through the doors on your tiptoes. “Is it empty?”
“Why would I bring you here during practice? So you could stare at more legs?”
“Ha ha,” you reply. “No.”
“Since when did you get so horny?”
“I am not!”
“Sure,” he punctuates with the click of the lock. The door swings open to a moist and comfortable coolness. “After you.”
You smile at him in kind. It’s dark and damp with the lights off, and the surrounding floor has been mopped dry. Your eyes dart to the corners of the room, sweeping for cameras, but you find none.
“Are you sure this is okay?”
There’s a loud noise as the skylight coverings retract. Sunlight floods in and bounces off the water, making those translucent waves appear on the walls. It’s your own pristine oasis.
You turn to smile at Osamu when he reappears, but then you blanch.
He’s in swim trunks, obviously, as this is a pool and he asked you to come here. Yet somehow you didn’t expect all of this; he has toned legs from years of conditioning, and oh shit, oh fuck he’s dropping his bag to grip the edge of his shirt.
“What are you doing?” You blurt in a panic, certain your heartbeat is echoing off the walls because it’s pounding in your skull.
He looks at you with nothing more than confusion. “I’m getting in the water?”
“You’re just going to,” you swallow, begging yourself to say the words because they’re just words, this shouldn’t be that hard. “You’re just going to do that out here?”
“You mean take my shirt off.”
And there’s the taunting curve to his lips you knew was coming. He’s not even reserved as he lifts the garment over his head and stuffs it into his bag.
You immediately avert your eyes and he gives a full laugh. “You were just staring at dudes legs a second ago.”
“I was joking.”
He hums, walking the length of the pool. They hold competitions here, so the pool is Olympic sized, whatever that means. All you know is that it’s significantly deeper than the municipal pool, going to about 9 feet. It’s much taller than you, or Osamu. The thought of having water completely cover you like that sends a fear running down your spine. You’d drown in an instant.
You stare at the unforgiving water, thinking about that day. Bright sunshine, kids screaming, and then suddenly a whoosh and then perfect blue. Nothing would have happened then; there was a lifeguard on duty, and the Miya’s mom was first aid certified. People were everywhere, people much taller than five feet. The twins would have pulled you up. Everything would have been fine.
But here—you could die here, and no one but Osamu would know a thing.
“Hey.” His voice is clear and very, very close. You let out an involuntary gasp and clutch your chest when he materializes beside you. His brows are pinched downward. You feel infinitesimal in his grey gaze.
“Sorry, I was just,” thinking about drowning. “Thinking.”
“About what?” He asks it like he knows something you don’t. Which is impossible, because you’re the only person who knows about this. This sinking, drowning feel that sucks you in even though you’re on dry land.
But when you look at him, really look at him, you can see something akin to suffering in the furrow of his brow.
His hands rest on the top of your shoulders, and for once you’re not wanting to pull away from the touch. His hands are firm, but not squeezing. Just right.
The thought has you spinning, but then you actually are; your world turns and you’re falling headfirst into the water.
The splash stings on impact, but the warm water is inviting. After righting yourself, it becomes warm and comfortable. When you open your eyes there’s the flourish of bubbles right next to you as Osamu plunges in.
His hair floats in a grey halo around his head as he swims toward you, but you’re backing up just as fast. You’re good at swimming; you’ve been better than him after all those years. You swim towards the shallow end and plant your feet on the ground, breaking the surface for air.
Your sopping wet clothes are stuck to your exposed skin, and it feels disgusting peeling it off. Osamu laughs as you try to stick your hands back into your shirt.
“Stop laughing, asshole!” You say, splashing him with water as he gets closer. He still eases through chest-high water as you try to back up, but you inevitably meet a wall.
“Let me help you,” he smirks, his hand meeting the billowing fabric of your top. “It’s the least I can do.”
There’s nowhere to escape him but down. You plunge your head underwater to alleviate the raw embarrassment of it all. You can’t hear his laughter underwater either.
When you resurface he’s still waiting for you. You fling your ruined shorts over the wall and wince at the absolutely disgusting noise it makes on impact with the floor. There’s a lewd joke to be made in there, but you can’t even breathe with Osamu lifting the hem of your shirt over your head. His fingertips brush against wet skin and it feels horrible, mostly because you want to lean into it and have his fingers on your skin for the rest of your life.
He doesn’t notice that you’re staring at him with doe eyes, shrinking even further back against the wall. He smiles genially, brushing a strand of wet hair from your forehead. Your heart feels like it’s going to collapse at how tender this six foot volleyball meathead is being.
“I’ll put these outside, maybe they’ll dry.” You nod minutely and watch in awe as he pulls himself out of the pool with his upper arm strength alone. You hear his footsteps pad away and you sigh, submerging yourself yet again.
It’s all so foreign—Osamu’s tenderness, this plan, everything is so uncertain. You can’t understand why he’s doing all this, why he’s toying with your heart so callously. It’s quite cruel, you think, sitting on the floor of the pool with your arms crossed. Criminal, really.
You stay under the water for quite some time. You do miss swimming; you’d never been good at laps or competitions, but the sensation of gliding through water, being surrounded by warmth and surrendering control; it felt good. You wished you hadn’t turned this hobby into something so dreadful.
You broke the surface again and you saw Osamu sitting at the edge with his legs in the water. His eyes drifted over you, watching as you swam smoothly under the surface up to his side.
The way you looked up at him, your head cradled by your crossed forearms, face glistening with water; god you were angelic. Sweet and kind and ethereal with a far off expression, like you weren’t made for this world. Like you were borrowed from the heavens.
“This was fun,” you said suddenly, and your voice echoed in the empty room.
“You say that like we’re not still here.”
“Considering the state of my clothes we’ll probably be here awhile.” He looks only slightly guilty about it. “Are they ever going to dry?”
He thinks of how much he had to wring them out. Even in this heat it would take more than an hour. “It depends. Do you want to leave already?”
“Why do you sound like you have something else planned?”
“I don’t. Take all the time you want.”
You narrow your eyes at him. Something’s definitely on his mind. He keeps looking towards the bleachers like there’s something written on them.
“Osamu?” He hums, finally tearing his eyes away from middle distance. “Why’d you bring me here?”
And then they’re gone again. He’s not looking at anything; he’s in his own head. Thinking, overthinking, running it by himself before he opens his mouth. You know the process very well.
“I told you—“
“Tell me the truth.”
He’s stunned by your bluntness. Serves him right.
It wears off pretty quickly, fading into a type of smile you’ve never seen on him. It’s bashful and unsure, and he’s trying to hide it from you, but you swim to his other side.
He scratches the back of his head. “You’re somthin’ else, ya know that?”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“I’m gettin to it,” he huffs, but it’s more like a steadying breath. “I knew you’d be sitting at home, alone, and I know you hate coming to practices because you feel like Kita will hate you.”
“He does hate me.”
“He doesn’t even know you, and if he did, he wouldn’t care.” This is Osamu’s usual deadpan voice, but it’s paired with a look you don’t recognize. He continues.
“Either way, I know you hate public pools cause you hate people looking at you. So I thought about a substitute and this came to mind.”
“What, breaking into school?”
“We have keys, (name).”
“Why are we alone then?”
It’s not as if he didn’t realize that. He must have, because when you brought it up something flared on his cheeks. His eyes are downcast and he’s sucking in a breath, that much is evident from how his bare chest puffs out and wow you really didn’t notice how water dripped off his chest before.
You tear your eyes away when he starts speaking. “Because I have something to tell you.”
“You had to tell me here?”
“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.”
“Oh my god,” you start, feigning a look of horror. “Are you going to kill me?”
The withering look on his face makes you laugh so hard your stomach almost cramps. You miss how the look softens into fondness, because he schools the expression once you’re looking at him again.
“If I was going to kill you it’d be done.”
“You’d give me a quick death? That’s sweet.”
He rolls his eyes, giving an exasperated laugh. “You’re unbelievable. That’s not,” another breath, shakier this time. “That’s not why I planned this.”
So this was a plan. Clearly it couldn’t be last minute if he obtained keys, but this had been on his mind for a while. How long had he wanted to do this? And what exactly—
“I know you hate it when things are different,” he starts, quickly, breathlessly, like he’ll lose his nerve. “And I didn’t want to make things worse but, well. I like you. A lot.”
The arm holding you above water slips, and you fall back into water with all the grace of a beached whale. The sting of water reminds you that this, Osamu confessing, is real.
And you just about drowned in front of him.
You clambour back up only to have him reach out for you. You look up and see him giving you a half smile, and you take his hand. You sit next to him, your feet making ripples against the water as you idly move them back and forth.
“I didn’t think I was that bad,” he rubs the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on the water.
“It’s not you! I’m just,” you can’t think of the word. Something is taking root in your chest that makes it hard to breathe, but in a pleasant way. “I really did not expect that.”
He hums. Then he turns to face you. His hair is flat against his face and he has an endearing little smile that is so nervous it melts your heart. He looks like the little boy you took your hand in the pool in May.
“You don’t have to say anything right now, I know it might be a lot.”
You don’t know how to respond. Your brain is racing to keep up, and every time you think you have the answer, the nerve to do so dies, and your head is just screaming, and—
And so you don’t think. You don’t use your head and you follow your body as you place a quick peck on his cheek.
He stiffens when you look at him. You take a breath. “I’m glad you considered my feelings, but you’re an idiot,” you laugh, mostly to push the next set of words from your lips. “‘Cause I like you too.”
The dopiest, most ecstatic grin you’ve ever seen curves into his face. He bites down on his lip to keep it from spreading any further, but the damage is done; you’re laughing at him. And when he tumbles head first into the water like you’ve knocked him out, you laugh even harder.
As it turns out, exhaling underwater is actually a very fun thing to do when you’re laughing at the boy who brings you so much happiness, you could drown in it.
*
There are several drawbacks to this adventure:
Your clothes did not dry in time; not by a long shot.
You had to mop up all the water in the gym and make it look like you were never there.
You had to board the train and go into a convenience store with your crazy, semi dried hair, garnering more attention than you were comfortable with.
You were willing to look past all this for a number of reasons:
Sitting outside in the simmering heat with slushees in hand was exactly like the American teen comedies,
Osamu had the foresight to bring extra clothes, and,
When he walked you home in golden hour light and cooling temperature, he slung his Inarizaki Volleyball jacket over your shoulders. Did it smell slightly of sweat? Yes. But it was warm and it drowned you and you felt surrounded by safety when he zipped it over your chin.
The two of you stood outside your door, unwilling to part. He still had a lazy smile glued to his face, one that could definitely rival his brothers in terms of attractiveness.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“You’ll want your jacket back.”
“I’ll steal Atsumu’s.”
You feel bad letting him walk all the way home without one, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re still wearing his ill fitting shorts and shirt. You never realized how much bigger he was than you. It felt reassuring, somehow, to still be sizes smaller than a trim athlete like him.
“You sure you’ll make it home okay?” You ask again.
“Aw, worrying about me already, are we?”
You scoff, finally turning the key to open your door. Osamu stays on the step outside your house, watching you as if he lacks object permanence. The sun behind him makes him glow ethereally, and none of this has any business being so heart clenchingly romantic because it's your friend, who is now something more.
“I had fun today,” you finally say, hands behind your back self consciously. “That was really nice.”
“Yeah, I had fun too.”
The silence is tense with things left unsaid, but you’ll spare your heart the embarrassment. “I’ll see you later, Osamu.”
He flashes you a smile and a small wave, but he doesn’t move. “Bye, (name.)”
You tear away from the moment first, walking in and closing the door with finality. You slump against it, and then shout “Is anyone home?”
When nothing but silence greets you, you scream, jumping up and down with all the pent up excitement you’d been holding. You hugged Osamu’s jacket closer, relishing in what could possibly be the best moment of your entire life.
Osamu, having heard your scream on the other side of the door, couldn’t agree more.
#miya osamu#osamu miya#miya twins#hq!! osamu#miya osamu x reader#osamu miya x reader#miya twins x reader#inarizaki#haikyuu!!#hq!!#reader x hq!! osamu#reader x haikyuu#reader x osamu miya#reader x miya osamu#haikyuu!! fanfic#hq!! fanic#writing#mine
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
Writing Dump: Bederia/DressedInPinkShipping
What the tin says, asdfghfds this is mostly just random, disjointed pieces of writing i've done for the Bederia ship that I just have to admit to myself i'm likely never going to finish anytime soon and need to at least get out SOMEWHERE.
Maybe someday i’ll come back to these and finish them, but for now, I just kinda want ‘em outta sight, outta mind ahaaa.
(If context is require for any of these snippets, it will be included)
(Longer pieces WILL be getting their own individual posts; just to keep things condensed and a little cleaner)
Regardless, though, I hope you can find even a little bit of brief enjoyment from these!
Context: Roommates AU i once discussed with a friend of mine involving a Psychic Bede whose powers latched on to their roommate. Gloria. He is constantly having dreams about her future. it turns out She is apparently very accident-prone and it is STRESSING HIM OUT. also; they’re in love with each other. this was just a small disjointed practise piece to get a feel of what the dynamic in this particular AU would be like. Please enjoy the heated make out session.
This went way beyond anything platonic.
Indeed, making out with your roommate of almost five months on your shared couch was the very opposite of ‘platonic,’ and he really shouldn’t be engaging in this kind of behaviour; but—
God, Gloria was irritatingly soft. and it was highly distracting. Her lips were surprisingly soft, too, for once, despite the fact that he hardly ever saw her use any kind of lip balm.
Had she been counting on this?
Gloria’s hand snaked up into his hair, and he promptly forgot his previous train of thought in favor of making a horrifyingly embarrassing noise into Gloria’s mouth. He began to pull away from her mouth to, he thinks, be utterly mortified; but Gloria didn’t give him the chance to as she followed him, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss, her tongue swiping against his own. A sensation that wasn’t quite as bad as he thought it would be, if the way his heart thrummed in his chest was anything to go by. In retaliation, he began tentatively running his hand up and down her waist, resulting in a hum from Gloria that Bede delighted in.
He wanted to hear more noises like that from her.
He pulled himself away from her mouth, the two of them sucking in heavy breaths of air. Then, in an uncharacteristic act of boldness, even to himself; Bede kissed Gloria beneath her ear, along her jaw. She leaned into him in response, having essentially crawled into his lap by this point, and the feeling of her body arched against his own as she squirmed against his ministrations certainly wasn’t helping to keep any of his repressed urges in check. His body was acting on instinct, and the vague images he’d seen last night in his dream; but he wasn’t sure how long pure instinct and vague images would hold up.
He pressed his lips to her neck, mirroring what he saw in his earlier dream , and Gloria’s reaction was immediate. A stuttered whine left her, and he found himself being pressed even firmer against Gloria, her arms enveloping him. He was spurred on, usuing his limited knowledge and Gloria’s reactions to guide him along as he kissed at her pulse and collarbone; even daring to gently bite the sensitive skin, an action that made Gloria shiver; and set Bede ablaze.
Truly; only Gloria could find a way to bring out the absolute most degenerative part of him. He thought, absently, as he continued to revel in the effect he was having on her.
As he continued to lathe her neck with attention, it was then, however, that Gloria suddenly decided to push things further. She gently ground her hips against his purposefully—and Bede jolted in response. Gloria stilled; pulling him away from her neck to look at him.
“Was that too much?” Gloria’s brows were knitted in concern, despite her flushed face and heavy breathing. “Do you wanna stop?”
No. Never, when it comes to you.
------------------------------------------------
Wyndon was known for it’s awful weather. It was rare for Wyndon to see a day that wasn’t cloudy or rainy.
Today had been no exception to this; as even though the day’s forecast had been predicted to be a rare sunny day; a terrible thunderstorm raged on outside as two unfortunate souls who had been caught in the abrupt downpour sprinted inside the lobby of a Wyndon apartment building for refuge. Breathing heavily, the soaking pair had trudged across the warm lobby, hardly caring about trail of water they left behind them as they dragged themselves into an elevator and, eventually, down a hallway and to an apartment door.
Gloria cursed under her breath as she fumbled through her bag to produce her key-card, doing her best to dry it off as much as possible as she placed it against the reader; her male companion slamming the door open the second the light turned green and trudging inside with a huff. Gloria followed behind, letting out her own huff of frustration as she flicked on the light.
“—MAN, that was a rush. What a damn day for them to be wrong about the forecast, huh, Bede?” Gloria jabbed the taller boy in the arm as she strode past him, stopping to turn back to him when she heard his indignant scoff, letting out a snort at her boyfriend’s dishevelled appearance. “Y’look like a drowned Wooloo.” Bede shot her a glare as he ran a hand through his dripping hair.
“And you look like a diseased Greedent.” He stepped forward, stopping directly in front of Gloria in the small entrance, her grin never faltering even as she adjusted herself to look up at him. “—Now that we’ve settled the matter of our appearances; if you wouldn’t mind getting out of my way; i’ll be going to use your shower.” He went to push past her, but she threw out her arms, dropping her bag in the process; to block him further. He raised an eyebrow down at her.
“Hold on. This is MY apartment; I get first dibs on a shower.” Her gaze was incredulous. Bede didn’t flinch.
“Yes, well, guest typically trumps apartment-owner, and you wouldn’t want to be a bad host now, would you, Gloria?” His tone dropped when he said her name, and Leaning forward, he loomed over her, droplets from his hair plopping down onto her forehead as he held her gaze intensely, that smug, shit-eating, and also very attractive and distracting smile ever-present across his features. There was a heated silence between them for a moment; but Before she could process whether or not she wanted to kiss him (she did), Gloria found herself ripped from her stupor; pushed aside as Bede stepped over her belongings and strided towards the bathroom. She reached him again just in time to get the bathroom door shut in her face. With a huff, she pounded her fist on the door with more force than was necessary.
“Hey; gimme your clothes, at least. I’ll dry them off.” There was a brief moment of silence where Gloria could hear the shuffling of clothes before the door opened just enough for Bede’s arm to reach out and shove his wet clothes into her arms.
He didn’t give her a response; opting to instead close the door again and start the shower; leaving Gloria by herself once again. With a tired sigh, she left to go retrieve her bag from the hallway and and get into a change of clothes herself.
-------------------------------------------
When Gloria got home, she found there was a distinct lack of her husband anywhere to be seen; which she found unusual. Typically, when she returned home, she could easily find Bede off in either their kitchen, making them both something for dinner, or sitting idly in their living room, waiting for her return. On some very rare occasions, though, he would come home late, usually from a rehearsal that went overtime or if he’d been filling in a particularly large amount of paperwork for his gym, though the fact that the lights in the house were on told Gloria this was not the case. Upon dumping her sports bag on a chair, she found that the kitchen was also suspiciously bare, without a trace of any cooking being done. Delving further into their shared home, she found the only light in the hallway was coming from underneath the bathroom door. At the lack of noise coming from a shower though, Gloria curiously nudged open the door, enough for her to poke her head in to investigate.
The sight of Bede in the bath was enough to surprise Gloria into alerting Bede to her presence as he met her eyes.
“Oh; you’re back a bit earlier than I was expecting. welcome home.” Gloria grinned, her eyes now sparkling with a mirth Bede knew was coming.
Welcome home, indeed. Gloria thought as her eyes scanned over the scene before her;
---------------------------------------
This wasn’t really how Bede had planned for the night to go. Really, he hadn’t even wanted to show up to this frivoulous ‘gathering’; and he’s still kicking himself over the fact that he let Gloria forcibly drag him along with her to it. Because, really, since WHEN did Gloria have that kind of power over him?
He supposed the when and how didn’t really matter anymore, however; as his current predicament was much more worthy of taking up space in his brain.
Gloria was drunk. INCREDIBLY drunk. Granted, he definitely wasn’t completely sober himself, at the moment. If he was, he (probably) would have been LONG gone by now. (At least, thats what he liked to tell himself.) But Gloria was on a whole different level; compared to him. It was obvious, even without her audible exuberance; it was in the way her oversized dollar store cardigan sloppily hung off her shoulders, the way her half undone ponytail hung over her back, the brown locks threatening to turn into one giant mass of knots that made Bede want to recoil from even just looking at it; and finally, the way her tanned skin was flushed red and had taken on a sheen of sweat in her activity. He watched from behind his own drink as she chugged down her latest order with a startling speed he would have been mildly impressed by if he weren’t so distracted by the way a bead of sweat ran along her jawline, or how she squeezed her thighs together as she stubbornly committed herself to drinking the whole glass in one go.
He was suddenly and haphazardly wrenched from his perverse observations of Gloria, however; as she slammed down her now-empty glass triumphantly, causing him to flinch ever so slightly at the impact. Gloria’s trademark, too-large grin stretched across her features as she looked over to Hop, who, surprisingly, didn’t seem to be finding much amusement out of the night’s shenanigans.
“Y’lose again, Hop! Seriously, s’like ya not even TRYIN’ t’beat me!” Hop quirked an eyebrow her way, drinking at a much more sane pace than Gloria.
“Again? Glo, I didn’t even know we were competin’ in the first place.” Despite his words, Hop seemed like he’d been in this exact position before. This irritated Bede, for reasons he refused to acknowledged. He downed the rest of his drink unceremoniously. This action didn’t go unnoticed by Marnie, who sat across from him at the group’s shared table. She looked at him from beneath long lashes for a moment, before they just as quickly flicked back away again. This also irritated Bede.
“Something you wish to say?” He challenged. Marnie simply hummed and reached for the bottle of wine that sat between them both; topping off her glass with a shrug.
“Not really. Jus’ thinkin’ you’ve been s’prisingly quiet.”
-------------------------------------------
Bede was currently in a pleasant haze. He and Gloria had been traveling from region to region in hopes of becoming stronger; and their travels had most recently led them to the Battle frontier in Johto, where they had managed to dominate together in the double battles; their shared might as a team had ensured their swift victory.
Later that night, Gloria had invited him over to her room to ‘celebrate their hard-earned victory’ as she had put it; and when he’d shown up at her door, she proudly revealed the wide array of room-service she’d ordered for the two of them to share, a selection of both their favourite foods as well as an ice bucket filled with three wine bottles. When Bede questioned her on it, Gloria had thrown him a smug smile. and answered:
“I figured a little bit of splurging couldn’t hurt. Besides, we totally deserve it after all.”
And, well, who was Bede to deny himself a generous spread like this?
So, the two of them indulged, eating together while reminiscing over their recent victories.
And after the food, came the alcohol. Gloria said she couldn’t decide what exactly she had wanted, so she’d opted to instead pick her top three choices of what sounded the nicest.
All of which, evidently, were very sweet, and decadent. Regardless, the two had soon finished off almost an entire bottle of Custap berry wine, sitting comfortably on Gloria’s hotel bed, the gentle glow of the bedside lamp warming the atmosphere further.
Which led him to where they were right now.
Bede could vaguely remember reading on the bottle that the wine had been fermented by one of the winery’s best Shuckles, and it was certainly obvious by just how potent it was. It was enough to make even him feel a bit tipsy.
Tipsy enough to make him feel pleasantly warm and loose. He looked to Gloria, watching as the brunette swirled around the liquid in her glass before downing its contents confidently; exhaling with a satisfied gasp. She then met his eyes, and a teasing grin spread across her face.
What was she planning?
“What’re ya lookin’ at, Bedey?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she continued. “Y’see somethin’ you like?” Bede shook his head, the smallest hints of a smile spreading across his own face at Gloria’s tipsy state; the way her skin flushed, and how her distinctly unique natural accent slipped through.
“Not particularly.” He lied. Setting her glass down on a nearby drawer, Gloria pouted, an action that Bede found quite adorable. A simple thought that, had he been sober, he would absolutely not have accepted.
“Whaat? Then what’re ya doin’?” She leaned towards him, looking at him with a comical expression. “You’re alone with a cute girl and you’re NOT starin’ at her? What kinda guy are you?”
“Firstly; it’s rather presumptous of you to call yourself ‘cute.’ Secondly, you make it sound like you WANT me to stare at you.” He finished the rest of his glass, eyes closing to properly enjoy the expensive wine. When he re-opened his eyes, he found Gloria staring silently at him this time. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and he watched the way she ran her tongue over her bottom lip without a shred of subtlety. She shifted from her spot on the bed.
“…’An what if I did?” She looked back up to his face again, her eyes having traveled down the expanse of his person; and her expression was what could only be described as hopeful. Bede swallowed; a new heat blooming in the pit of his stomach, and He didn’t miss the way Gloria watched him the entire time, drinking in his every move.
“Well; I suppose that would imply you were attracted to me. Which, honestly, I wouldn’t blame you. However, considering its coming from YOU; of all people—It’s a rather poor attempt at getting into my head, Gloria. I assumed you were better than this.” Looking down to his own glass,
That is, until he felt Gloria’s calloused hand slip under his chin and lift his face back to look at her again; where her face was now dangerously close to his.
his heart-rate picked up at her heavy expression.
“S’not a joke. I really do think you’re pretty, y’know.” Her eyelids lowered. Eyes slowly and deliberately trailed down to look at his lips; fingers lightly tracing the underside of his chin to run along his jaw. Bede sucked in a breath.
“Wouldn’t lie ‘bout this sorta thing, Bede.”
Oh.
Gloria leaned forward, eyes still locked on Bede’s parted lips, hints of the sweet wine on her breath invading his senses and making him feel dizzy as she continued to inch forward agonizingly and teasingly slowly.
And then they were kissing, and Bede burned. His body acting on some strange instinct as he pushed his lips firmer against her feather-light ones, seeking more of her as she mumbled against his mouth.
-------------------------------------------
Bede would be the first to say, out loud, that the Galar Gala was frivolous. It was hardly anything more than a superficial event funded by the higher ups of the Galar league to show off their prized gym leaders and champion to the public as though they were show-ponies at a fair. He despised it.
However…He would also be the first to admit, that the Galar Gala was somewhat of a necessary frivolity. To be seen is to gain attention; and attention is something that was required for an elite gym leader such as himself. It was beneficial to his illustrious career to be well-liked by others, and while he hated needing to bend himself to the will of others, his mentor had once taught him the benefits of doing so in moderation. And so with her help, he had adopted a somewhat-agreeable public persona to work with.
----------------------------------------
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Black Leather
Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drugs
Summary: Calum is in a small band in the mid-90s, and Y/N stumbles into his show one weekend in October.
Word Count: 7k
Among the sea of eyes, his were the ones that stood out.
The bus had stopped by too soon. In the four minutes it took to walk to the stop, you were running instead, lungs heavy while hot coffee sloshed onto your jeans. After twenty minutes passed, you were headed down Broadway on the 68 bus, your fingers twitching against your knees to the sounds of morning commuters. You were late. You were so fucking late.
The sprint to Sever Hall hadn’t been worth the energy. It hadn’t been worth the splattered burn, red splayed in dripped shapes against your thigh. It hadn’t been worth the asthma induced, cross-country sprint, one that left you wheezing in the hallway outside of your classroom. When you stumbled into the room, it was a hundred-eyed gaze, and you soon realized you had been better off skipping altogether.
“Sorry,” you breathed out, holding your chest high as you met each pair of eyes staring you down.
He had been looking at you. His lips were tugged into an unfamiliar smile while his dark brows rose in surprise. It wasn’t an appearance he wore often, and it kept you frozen in place. You were used to the frown and the rigid stare.
You managed a small smile in his direction before finding a seat toward the back.
You knew his name. You knew his face. You knew that he had come from outside of the states. But that was the gross extent of your knowledge of Calum, other than the dingy attire and the fact that he was more brilliant than you would ever know. He spoke in class on the rare occasion, and the words that flowed from his lips were dripping in pure gold.
And on the back page of your notebook, you kept his quotes in black ink. You wrote what you could hear through his soft mumbles, and you wondered why he kept so quiet with a mind as beautiful as his.
He kept his nose in a book. You spent the last month and a half studying him when you could, mentally tracing over the creases in his skin when an unsettling opinion was spoken in class. You thought about how bright his smile was despite having never seen it. You thought about how his deep brown eyes would look in the sun. You thought about his taste in music, and you wondered if you would ever know him the way you longed to.
You were caught up in your daydream when his eyes flickered over. His stare pulled you out from the swirling headspace, and you were quick to regain your involvement in the professor’s voice. Yet, despite the collected exchange, you could still feel his gaze. It was a heavy and mysterious gaze, the kind that elicited unwarranted shivers. But you didn’t mind it. The sensation sparked desirable nerves.
The next fifty minutes were spent in a distracted haze. Even the tragedy of Oedipus could not compare to the hope of delving into Calum’s personality. He was well reserved, and you ached to crack his code. You ached to be the source of his rare smiles.
That had been the reason behind your abstracted mind. He had smiled when you walked in.
You wondered about it for the next few hours, your brain preoccupied as you absentmindedly stepped around leaves on the pathway. You kept your head low on your way to Sage’s while the crisp wind nipped at any exposed skin. Scuffed shoes met shallow puddles along the pavement, and you were careful to avoid muddy spots against the lawn. The pole of posters beside Hollis Hall suddenly tore you out of the moment.
You looked beyond the anti-gentrification and political agenda signs. You looked beyond club meetings and tutor session invitations. The one poster that caught your eye was crumpled and torn, and it read:
Knight Knuckles. Slip Tit. Mudslide. Killed for Casualty.
8pm, Oct. 13th. $2 Coverage.
87 Linden St, Allston, Mass.
You reached around for your backpack, pulled out your notebook, and wrote down the address. You weren’t going to go, you told yourself. It wasn’t your scene–– it would never be. You shut the notebook and stuffed it back into your bag, mind returning to thoughts of Calum and the sandwich you were about to indulge in. To finish your day, you made small rounds through Harvard Square and stopped by the poetry shop to further indulge in unlikely necessities. All thoughts of Calum ceased.
-
The back door was cracked open. A few guys sat on the steps before it, each with a cigarette in hand and a beer in the other, and they were laughing at some offensive joke while you stepped around them. They weren’t worth the hassle of arguing against–– they would simply make their opinions overshadow yours with the use of their superiority complexes. So, you stepped inside, and the hot air swelled around you.
About a dozen strangers crowded into the small kitchen, and another few were cramped into the living room. The home was void of any furniture, but you weren’t shocked. The squalid interior with its spray-painted walls and missing floorboards was proof that hardly a soul lived here. At least, you hoped.
You slipped two dollar bills into a jar, and a man with an eyebrow piercing grabbed your hand and stamped a bright red mark onto it without saying a word.
“Watcha want there, Maggie May?” asked another man. He was leaned up against the fridge, and he had a few piercings as well.
You rolled your eyes. “Eat my ass.”
The girl beside him snorted. “He wants to know what you want to drink,” she said. “Also, I love you. I’m Tori.”
“Hey, yeah, you too,” you sighed out, slipping your jacket from off of your shoulders. The discomfort was evident. “Y/N. Not Maggie May. And, what do you have?”
“Mostly just Pabst,” she replied and tilted her own beer your way. “Beer and stuff.”
You nodded. “I’ll take that.”
Tori lightly shoved the man away from the fridge to retrieve a beer for you. When your fingers brushed, she smiled. “What brings you here, then, Y/N? It’s usually the same crowd ‘round here.”
“Dunno,” you mumbled. “Don’t usually come to a lot of stuff like this, so I figured I’d give it a shot. It was kind of a last-minute decision.” You popped the drink open and took a sip. The taste was foul and cheap, yet you kept the sweating can close to your chest.
“Makes sense,” replied Tori. Her eyes narrowed, and it felt as though she was reading you like an open book. “Do you even know anybody here?”
You shook your head. “Not a soul.”
“Cool.” She grinned. A few people made their way downstairs. “See you down there, Maggie May. I’ll dedicate the first song to your poor, lost soul.”
You had begun to retaliate when she left your company, and you soon followed the pack down the narrow steps into the basement. The first level was Barbie’s Dream House in comparison. Down below, you were met with concrete floors and a harsh smell of piss and weed. A make-shift space was filled with boxes and trash bags, plus a stained futon over in the corner. Christmas lights were hung around pillars beside the performance space, and wires were scattered like snakes over empty boxes of Marlboro. You could only imagine how much turmoil the oriental rugs below the drum kit had been through. You pushed through bodies and stood below a mural, meanwhile admiring the glossy eyes of handsome strangers beside you. A cute man offered you a joint, and you politely refused.
The first band was ear blood, but you recognized the need for courtesy. You nodded along to the screeching noises, wishing you had bought earplugs specifically for the occasion. The second band’s sound had little representation, yet the tunes were simple, and the lyrics were crude. The can of Pabst was warm against your skin. A half-hour later, the third band had finished their set. Tori fulfilled her promise of dedicating her song to you, and you greeted the feeling of eyes like an old friend.
You leaned against the cinderblock wall and ran your fingernails along the rim of your beer. The night had been going on for longer than expected. You needed to use the bathroom as well, but you wouldn’t be caught dead using it here. A stinging dissonance filled the tight space, and you returned your gaze onto the final band.
And then your eyes met a familiar figure. A tall, mysterious figure with an infamous leather jacket stretched across broad shoulders. Small, dark hand tattoos stood out against his brown skin.
“Yeah, uh, we are Killed for Casualty,” spoke the lead singer. His voice was soft, just like the golden curls that framed his face. You had a feeling you would like this band. “Let’s fucking rock, then.”
A series of blaring chord progressions filled the small space, and the crowd came back to life. The crash cymbals drowned out the lead singer’s voice, but you hardly cared about the quality of the music. You hardly had the energy to enjoy the melody when all you could focus on was the man behind the bass. All you could see were his furrowed brows and his deep frown. His eyes shut tight as his body swayed with the beat.
You hid behind shoulders. You hid behind the thought of his smile and sweet voice melting against your skin. His lips touched the mic every time he sang, and you couldn’t look away. Calum had a light aura–– it didn’t matter what clothes or expression he wore. You saw another part of him, yet you didn’t even know him.
You nestled rim of your beer beneath your front teeth while you moved with the crowd, head bobbing along to songs you had heard on the radio before. There were songs you didn’t recognize, too, and those were the ones Calum lost himself in. So, you lost yourself in them as well.
“Holy shit, you guys are awesome,” said the other guitarist. His light fringe was surely a sight, but you admired his adrenaline. He had a bubbly, boisterous attitude that you longed to have in your life.
Calum’s face lit up as his eyes scanned the crowd. You hadn’t assumed he would ever see you, but the world froze when he did. Your blood ran cold as his smile fell, and you were seconds away from slipping into a fit of self-doubt before his smile grew again. And then he winked.
He had winked at you and resumed with the set as if it never happened.
You hugged your jacket against your body, heart stuttering at the thought of his flirtatious nature directed toward you. You had finally seen his genuine smile, and you had been the reason behind it, too. The music was drowned out by the thoughts in your head.
“Thanks, guys,” said the lead singer, his eyes bright as he spoke. “I’ve been Luke. That’s Calum on bass. Ryan on drums. Michael on guitar. We’ve been Killed for Casualty. Thanks for comin’ out.”
You took a deep breath, meanwhile, the crowd thinned out as the band packed up their things. You made your way along with the strangers, yet your plans to duck out were torn to shreds by a tap on your shoulder. The tap was quick–– almost as if it had been a mistake, but when you turned to face the culprit, Calum stood before you. And he was grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t expect t’see you here.”
You shrugged. “Figured there was no better way to spend a Saturday night other than listening to music I’ve never heard before in my life.”
Calum laughed. “Oh, c’mon. I’m sure you’ve heard of Radiohead.”
“Oh, duh.”
His smile never died. He was looking at you, truly looking at you with crinkly eyes that you wanted to get lost in. “We–– uh, we have another show next weekend. It’d be sick if you came.”
“Yeah?” you asked, raising a brow, to which he reciprocated your gesture. “You really want me to come? Do you even know my name?” Your teasing tone hardly fazed him.
“Course,” he said. “You’re Y/N, and you’re almost always late to our Tragedy in Literature class. Like, always late.”
You pouted. “Don’t blame me. Blame the MBTA,” you replied, and he laughed.
“I always blame the MBTA.”
“It’s really the worst, isn’t it?” you asked him, and you felt yourself softening into the comfort of the conversation. In a matter of hours, you would be convincing yourself that the encounter never happened.
Calum’s smile was contagious. “Fucking awful. A man farted on me once on the red line.”
“You’re–– you’re kidding,” you said, but you soon fell into a small fit of laughter once he shook his head. “Jesus. I’m so sorry.”
“Speaking of awful––“ Calum pointed down to the empty Pabst in your hands. “Is that what they’re handing out? Christ–– Kev’s gotta get a raise. That shit sucks.”
“It was kind of disgusting,” you said, yet you shrugged it off.
“So, I gotta finish packing stuff up,” said Calum, “but listen–– it was really cool to see you. Hope you can make it out next time.”
Your lips twitched into a smile. “Only if you promise to dedicate that last song to me,” you replied. “It was my favorite.”
Calum grinned. “You’ve got yourself a promise, babe.”
-
The bus had been early again that following Monday. So, for the second class in a row, you were stumbling in late. Only a few heads turn in your direction, and immediately, you looked for the pair of deep brown eyes that made your heart flutter. You had only spoken to him once, but it had been enough to haunt you throughout the next day. It had been enough to spark something you hadn’t felt for anyone in years.
You found Calum in a heartbeat, and he had already been looking at you. He had already been smiling at you. You smiled in return and took your seat.
He spoke up once during class, and you placed the delicate words at the back of your notebook. After the class ended, you were quick to stand, heart racing at the thought of his smile so cute and goofy. You were too preoccupied to notice the man falling in step beside you.
“Like I said––” he began, voice so golden and smooth that you believed it belonged on the radio. The idea of Calum as a newscaster was a vision to behold. “––always late.”
You playfully hit his arm, and his laughter echoed around the halls. You were certain it was the kind of laugh that birthed fairies. “The bus system sucks,” you replied. “It’s the earliest one I can get, and it’s never on time.”
“Jus’ messing with you, love,” he said. His presence intimidated you, but it was the kind of intimidation that you never wanted to leave. It created the desire to hold him by the waist and carry him with you wherever you went. “Where ya off to?”
“I was gonna pop in Widener for a small study break,” you said, tugging your sleeves down so you could hold onto them with your fingers. “Then I usually get lunch before my last two classes of the day.
Calum huffed. “Mid-terms got you tickin’, too?”
“Something like that.”
“Harvard wants us all dead,” mumbled Calum as he held the front doors of the hall open for you. “That’s what I think.”
You had been expecting a chill from the morning, but the bright sun kept the air warm. You pushed the sleeves of your sweater back up your arms, and you stared at Calum in amazement. “You want yourself dead,” you said. “Do you ever get hot in that damn thing?”
“What, my jacket?” he asked, tilting up the leather as a smile grew. “It’s not about sweat, baby, it’s about fashion.”
Baby. You laughed the pet name off.
“’sides,” he continued. “It’s not about how hot I feel either. It’s about how hot I look.”
“I mean, yeah, it looks good.”
Calum raised a brow. You enjoyed watching his reactions out of the corner of your eye.
“But I always say that comfort comes before fashion,” you said as you kicked a few fallen leaves on the path before you.
He let out a chuckle. “Is that why you’re rollin’ in late with some big ass sweater on every day? Hell, you’re already late, so you could at least have the decency to show up with a coffee.”
“Honestly, I’ve thought about that,” you said. “And what do you have against big ass sweaters, huh?”
Calum shook his head. “Absolutely nothing at all.”
“Maybe next time I’ll wear a black one,” you replied. “Maybe then you’ll appreciate my fashion.”
“Can’t believe I’m being attacked at eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“You had it coming.”
He laughed again. “You don’t need t’wear black for me to appreciate you, love.”
The words warmed your chest. You smiled. “Well, I said my fashion, but it’s nice to know you appreciate me, Cal. Is–– is that okay? If I call you Cal?”
“Yeah,” he said. His smile hadn’t faltered throughout the entire conversation. “Reserved that nickname just for you.”
“Do you have any other classes today?” you asked him and placed yourself onto the steps of the library. You were still a few inches shorter at best. “Because you can join me if ya want.”
“I appreciate that,” he said, “but unfortunately, I’m already running late.”
Your jaw dropped as you laughed at his words. “And you make fun of me for being late. We’re gonna get kicked outta this fuckin’ school.”
Calum laughed along with you, and the sound was music. Everything about him was music. “I make fun of you because it’s cute to see you flustered.”
“Oh, fuck you,” you muttered, but your smile only grew. And so did your heart, too.
His eyes were golden in the sunlight, and they shimmered when he smiled. Sometimes, when he grinned so wide, his eyes squinted shut, and the sight left you woozy. You wondered if he knew how beautiful he was.
“See you ‘round, love,” he said to you, meanwhile taking a few steps back.
“Don’t forget about my dedication,” you replied. “I’m only coming this weekend because of you.”
Calum winked. “I won’t, darlin’. Study hard.” He turned down the path with a final wave, and you let out a sigh. And your smile carried on.
-
“You weren’t in class on Wednesday.”
That next weekend, you stepped off of the bus in Allston, your jean jacket hugged tight to keep warm down the tired streets behind music halls. The home was familiar, and it was packed full again. The bodies no longer stared at you like a stranger, but they still avoided you like one. Yet, Tori was there to keep you company as the night carried on.
You kept an eye out for Calum. The basement rocked with sound, air heavy as it filled with heat and smoke. The Christmas lights made you feel at home, yet none of it mattered when the one person you wanted to see wasn’t even there. So, you swayed to music from new bands you didn’t care about, wishing you hadn’t been stupid enough to fool yourself over a guy.
But, like always, he arrived when you least expected.
Tori gave you a wink and stepped away.
“Oh, yeah,” you said, chuckling. Meanwhile, his band had begun preparing their instruments. “I forgot I wasn’t.”
“You okay?” Calum asked you. “I can get ya the notes if you want.”
“I’m—oh wow, that’d be nice, thank you.” You grinned. “Yeah, um, I’m good. Turns out my alarm clock is a goner, so...”
Calum smiled. He was wearing a flannel tonight, and you decided that he could make trash bags look good. “Damn alarm clocks can’t be trusted.”
“They really can’t.” You eyed the rest of his band and furrowed your brows. “No drummer tonight?”
He glanced over at his friends before looking back at you. “Nah. We’re looking for a new one right now.”
You tilted your head.
“Ryan broke his wrist.”
“Oh, that sucks,” you said. “He was pretty good.”
Calum shrugged, but you could tell he was upset. Tonight, he had become the backbone of rhythm. “Yeah, well. Mike thinks he has a friend who knows some other drummer. He might be able to help out.”
“He just has to do my song justice,” you replied with a smirk. You hardly remembered the song, yet you knew it was your favorite of theirs no matter what. It was your favorite because Calum had winked at you before it, and it was all you could think about.
He nodded. “I’ll make fuckin’ sure of that.” He looked back over to his friend. “I should probably join them, then. Last song is yours,” he said, a grin spreading as he sent a wink your way.
He didn’t allow you to get a word in before he was jogging off and picking up his bass effortlessly. You weren’t sure how an instrument could make someone look so handsome, yet there he was, looking like the best damn man in the room.
“He’s fucking in love with you,” said Tori from behind. Her voice crept up your spine, and you yelped.
“Jesus,” you breathed out.
She laughed. “Cool your tits, Maggie May.”
“They’re ice-cold,” you replied. “And he’s not. We only just met last week.”
Tori shrugged. “You can totally fall in love in a week. He’s done it before.”
“He’s done it before?” you asked. The music blasted, and the bodies around you jumped and pushed. You hardly budged. Soon, you were shouting over Luke’s voice just to talk. “You know him?”
“Old friend,” she said over the music. “I’ve known him since like–– how many years ago was ’88?”
“Uh, seven.”
“I’ve known him for about seven years,” Tori continued. “He was a cute teen. Moved from Australia and played a shit ton of soccer. We started a band together in our last year of high school, but then he kinda disappeared for a year afterward. Came back and said he was going to Harvard–– said he had been with this girl. So, I assumed they broke up.”
You nodded along as she spoke.
“Anytime he’s with someone,” she carried on loudly, “it’s like he’s head over heels. He tries to act all shy and cool until you really get t’know him. And it’s pretty fuckin’ clear he really wants to know you.”
You tried to smile, but something about her words made it hard. Because you had never wanted to think about him loving someone else.
“You seem spooked.”
You shook your head. “Not spooked. Just a little in disbelief.”
Tori let out a laugh. “Why? Because I think he likes you? So hard to believe that?”
You shrugged.
“He is pretty damn cute,” she said. “So, if you hurt him, I’ll hunt you down.”
“You can hold me to that,” you replied. “I don’t wanna hurt him.”
“But you do want him?”
You nodded.
“Oh, hell fucking yeah.”
You laughed as she nudged you, and you soon returned your focus to Calum. His eyes met yours right away, and he smiled. This time, the fluttering in your stomach had become a heavy swarm, and you allowed it. You welcomed it.
The stress of the evening slipped off of your shoulders the more you danced. You no longer worried about what you would say to him or the words you had said in the past. You no longer worried about the feelings you wanted to repress. It was new, it was natural, and you wanted to deserve his company. You wanted to earn him.
When the final song approached, Calum kept his gaze on you, eyes brightening every time they met yours. His shy smile had etched itself into your brain. All he had to do was look your way, and you were his–– there was no one else. No one else in the room but you and him.
This stuff didn’t happen in a week. It never worked like this. But you blocked out the harsh noise of your pessimistic thoughts. You weren’t bound to doom what could be good because of your insecurities.
“This next one is dedicated to the person who thinks that 9:15 is the new 8:45. Or the one who just doesn’t bother showing up to class at all.”
You rolled your eyes, lips twitching while his face broke out into a grin. The song began after the silent exchange, and he kept looking at you. He looked at you until the crowd had dwindled and the music faded with their heads. He looked at you as if he had been waiting to have every ounce of your attention.
“Kicked ass,” you said, “as usual. You were a little flat at the end there, though.” Your teasing tone lightened while you crossed the floor toward him.
“Oh, really?” he asked you. He zipped the case of his bass closed and lifted it over his shoulder. “I didn’t realize you were a music critic. I’ll do better next time.”
You chuckled. “You better.”
Calum adjusted the strap on his shoulder, and you admired the comfort in his appearance. You wondered how he would react seeing you in the gray flannel he wore currently. He no longer intimidated you, not like he used to; you lost yourself in the strength of his gaze.
“You live around here?”
You shook your head. “I live down past Central.”
Calum raised his brows in surprise. “Shit, you live that far?” He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s why you’re rollin’ up late every damn day then, huh?”
“Yeah,” you said with a laugh. “It’s not that bad, though.”
His frown deepened. “I can keep ya company if you want.”
“Well, where do you live?”
“Like, a ten-minute walk from here,” he replied. “I’m a night-owl, so it’d be no problem. Only i-if you’re–– if you’re comfortable with that.”
You smiled once he stammered, and he blinked rapidly to cover up the fault in his words. Your heart was swelling. “Really nice of you to offer,” you said, “but you don’t need to go out of your way. The ride goes fast.”
Calum nodded, lips tugging into a small smile. “You sure?”
“Positive,” you mumbled. “But you can walk me to the bus stop if ya want.”
His face lit up in an instant.
-
The next show was at a new location.
Calum came to you that Monday with a torn flyer, hands shaking as he reached over your shoulder while you walked down damp pathways. You were going to arrive on time that day, and you were eager to rub it in his face until he stumbled up behind you. He appeared nervous to talk to you, yet the words he spoke were calm and collected.
“New place,” you observed, eyeing the messy letters. Meanwhile, Calum caught up in step beside you. “Looking forward to it.”
His eyes widened slightly. “You’ll come?”
“You think I wouldn’t?”
A grin spread on his face. Later on, he sat next to you in class.
That following weekend, you arrived at the house alone, bones shivering while the cold air crept under your skin. Calum stood at the base of the driveway with a cigarette in hand, and he was smiling like he always did when he saw you. Like he always did.
“Hey, Maggie May,” he said.
You groaned as you nearly fell into him, and he grabbed your arm to hold you steady. He smelled of cigarette smoke and earthy cologne. “Not you, too. Isn’t the song about a cougar?”
Calum shrugged and loosened his grip. But it was slow, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. “Who knows?” The cigarette slipped from his fingers, and he stomped it into the pavement. “Come on in. I wanna introduce you to the guys.”
“Oh, the guys?” you asked, chuckling. “Did know we were there yet. I’m honored.”
He looked back at you while he led you in through the back door. “You should be. They’ll like you, though. You’re cool, I guess.”
“That’s convincing.”
Calum laughed. He walked you beyond the men asking for coverage fees at the front, giving them subtle nods while you avoided eye contact. You continued to keep your head down low as he led you down to the basement. The house layout was similar, yet the room was larger, and the lights around the posts were purple bats instead. A few familiar faces were passing around a joint beside the drumkit.
“Hey, idiots,” said Calum. He placed a hand between your shoulder blades. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Luke, Mike, and Ashton.”
“The new guy,” you spoke softly, eyeing the strong arms of the stranger across from you. You could tell that, just by his build, he was going to rock the house. “Why are you all so fuckin’ tall?”
The new drummer, Ashton, laughed. His smile was the type to light up the entire room. “Maybe you’re just fuckin’ short,” he retaliated.
Michael chuckled along. “Ya probably need a step ladder jus’ to hug Cal.”
“She can’t even do that,” said Luke. “Her arms aren’t long enough.”
You narrowed your gaze. “Touché.”
Calum’s hand slid down to the small of your back. His touch burned through your clothes. “Okay, that’s it. Y’all can find a new band.”
“Are you leaving us, or are you kicking us out?” asked Michael. He placed the joint between his lips.
“Kicking all of you out,” said Calum, and he tugged the joint away from his friend. “It’s just me now.” He turned to you. “You wanna join my band?”
“Are you kidding?” You leaned into him, and he pulled your closer, hand finding your waist while he gazed down at you. His eyes were warm, and there was something new. Something hidden behind the crinkles that seemed to never cease when around you. Like you could finally feel everything Tori was telling you about. “Can I take Luke’s place?”
“Oh, hell yeah.”
“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, snagging the burning joint from Calum’s fingers before taking a hit. “No more for you.”
A handful of people made their way down the steps, their voices carrying through laughter and drunken screams. Calum’s grip on your waist loosened and dropped.
“Ready to fuckin’ rock?” he whispered to you.
The timber in his voice rattled through your spine, but the shiver only lasted so long before he was guiding you back into the crowd. He hardly spoke after that. The music did enough, and instead, he talked through gazes— warm, heartfelt eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in a while, if at all. For the night, you felt like he admired you the way you had always wanted him to.
“—just annoying as shit. Screaming and bouncing like a fucking slut, man. She was so loud. But who gives a shit, you know? Like, she’s a goddamn whore when she’s—“
Calum tensed at the sound of the men behind you. You could picture the scowl on his features, yet you didn’t dare to glance over. You wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that nothing had been said.
But you couldn’t.
Calum whipped around, and you were quick to grab his arm. “Do you guys mind not fucking disrespecting women like that?” he asked, the pitch of his voice lowering as the words slipped out with ease.
One of the men—you guessed the one who had spoken originally—laughed. Anger coursed through your veins as well, but Calum’s radiated off of him. You moved your hand up to his bicep.
“What? You really gonna do something?” asked the man. He looked down at you and smirk. “I’ll totally take it back if you give me a spin on your little bi—“
Calum lunged, fist flying toward the face of the man with a devilish grin. Immediately, someone tugged you back— you assumed Michael, but you didn’t bother to check. Instead, you were forced to scream over shouts and cheers while the boy you liked fought for you. He fought for you.
The other man had gotten in his fair share of punches, his frightening, rigid knuckles crunching and colliding against Calum’s jaw. Every crack echoed. Every grunt, every groan sent sparks through your nerves, and you felt tears pricking beneath your eyes. Limbs flew and bodies slammed against one another, but you stood there helpless. You stood there wishing you could blink away the fear and adrenaline.
Everyone was shoving each other as the fight spread throughout the crowd. Petty brawls broke out, and you were barely shielded by Ashton’s interference in front of you. But beyond the noise, you still heard Calum, and he was shouting for you.
Shoulders knocked against yours while you fought your way beyond the mayhem. The air was hot, thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol and everything in between, and all you wanted was to find Calum and get out in one piece. You just wanted to be alone with him, to make sure he was okay and to tell him how much he meant to you. To tell him how much his actions meant to you.
A hand reached out for yours. A bloodied and bruised hand with a familiar tattoo stretched across the thumb.
“C’mon,” he muttered once he got close enough, and he pulled you through the chaos to reach the base of the stairs. You were hot on his tail as he walked up, but you chose to remain quiet.
And you stayed quiet the entire walk back to his place.
He was angry, fingers tightly locked between yours while the breeze picked up around you. His pace was heavy, and yours was, too. The door to his apartment slammed shut behind the two of you. You fought the urge to pull him back and calm the frustration, but he was stomping up two flights of steps with you on his heels. You hardly had a chance to glimpse at his small space before you were being pulled into an old bathroom down the hall.
“Cal— Calum.” You pried his fingers away from yours as he paced the tiled floor. “Calum.”
“I’m sorry,” he said as he ran his hands through his hair. He turned to face you, and you were finally able to look at the damage that had been done. You finally saw what he had put himself through just to defend you. Or, maybe it was much more than that. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “They just— I wasn’t just gonna let them say that shit to you.”
You nodded. “Thank you.”
But you wished you did to have to feel any gratitude. You wished you hadn’t been forced to watch him break his bones in order to keep harmful words at bay. He suffered a bloody nose, swollen lip, and bruised cheek, and you felt responsible for every single scratch that tore through his skin.
“Do you— do you have an ice pack?” you sputtered, hand reaching up to grab the air. Because you weren’t sure if you had the right to touch him.
Calum nodded, and you didn’t wait for a verbal answer. You hurried into his kitchen, and despite the cramped size, you lost yourself in the details. It was his kitchen— it was Calum through and through. You searched the drawers for a dish towel, trembling hands picking out a dark cloth before soaking it under the dripping faucet. Next, you retrieved an ice pack from the freezer before rushing back into the bathroom. Calum was leaned up against the porcelain sink, and he had taken off his jacket to reveal a thin white tank.
You kept quiet and approached him slowly, heart heavy at the sight of him so bloodied and broken. You thought about his touch and how it felt earlier on in the night. You thought about protective he was despite barely knowing you for two weeks. And lastly, you thought about how, even when provoked into unattractive behavior, he still managed to look so damn hot.
So, you didn’t speak as you pressed the damp cloth against his blood-soaked skin. He stayed still, watching you as you scrubbed lightly until all that was left was a pinkish residue. You felt the weight of his gaze, and it burned deep in your gut. You had said he no longer intimidated you, but tonight, that wasn’t the case. Ir was the kind of intimidation that drew warmth and left you wanting more.
He was close, so close you could hear your hearts beating as one. The heat of his breath touched your skin, and you were forced to steady yourself with one hand against his bare shoulder. You hadn’t noticed his chest tattoos before, but maybe you hadn’t been this observant. Maybe you hadn’t felt as much as you were feeling right now.
You set the ice pack against his cheek and sighed. “Why did you do that?” you asked him, chest heavy while you yearned to reconstruct your words. You hadn’t wanted to plant the blame on him.
Calum swallowed. “The words he was saying, I—“ His eyes watered as he peered down at you, and he winced once you adjusted the frozen pack onto his blossoming bruise. “Couldn’t stand for that shit. Couldn’t bear to hear him say it. And I— I didn’t wanna hear him say it about you.”
You frowned. The hand that had been on his arm moved down to his chest.
“You don’t have t’take care of me,” he mumbled, lips tugging into a soft smile.
“But I want to,” you said to him. Your fingers traced the edge of his tank.
Calum’s smile quickly fell, and the room was quiet. You wondered if he could feel what you were feeling, too.
“Put down the fuckin’ ice pack,” he whispered, words tight and intricate as his hands slipped around your waist.
And then he was leaning in, lips hot as they pressed against yours in a captivating, lustful kiss. The ice pack slipped from your hands, and you felt frozen in his grip. Desperate hands clutched your waist while the kept you pressed against the sink behind you. You tossed your arms around his neck once you got a feel for his smooth, plump lips aching to taste yours. His fingers maneuvered beneath the thick layer of your sweater in order to feel your skin; you just hadn’t been aware of how truly sensational his touch would feel against your back. His lips melted against yours.
You reached a hand around to hold his face, and he seethed.
“Jesus, fuck,” he spat, and your eyes fell to the fresh bruise you had just touched.
“I’m— I’m so sorry,” you breathed out, expecting him to pull away, yet he pulled you close and reattached your lips with as much passion as the first time. Your teeth clashed, tongues slipping against one another while the heat of the moment made your insides churn. Calum’s large hand splayed across your jaw to keep you close.
His lip was still swollen from the fistful impacts, yet he seemed unfazed; in fact, it only spurred him on. But the heat of the moment overwhelmed you. You wanted him, but you wanted to know you had him.
You brushed your top lip against the corner of his mouth, hands gripping the loose material of his tank while you leaned into him. He held you with strong arms, ones you never wanted to let go.
“You’re really fuckin’ something else, babe,” he mumbled into your hair, and you could feel his smirk. “You know that?”
You chuckled. “I think the name is Maggie May.”
The warmth of his laughter spread through you. His fingers danced along the ridges of your spine, and you leaned back to look at him. His smile was small, yet it was soft, and it held every confession you had wanted to hear.
The black leather jacket on the floor caught your eye. A moment later, you pulled your sweater over your head, and Calum stood across from you in awe. His gaze was intense as you reached down for the jacket and tugged it over your arms. The leather creaked, but the loved material had softened through wear-and-tear. It slipped on with ease, and you stuffed your hands in the pockets with confidence.
Calum was silent as he took your appearance in. His jacket sat draped across your torso with only a bra underneath; you could only imagine how the sight made him feel.
He smiled and told hold of your waist. “Well, then, Maggie May,” he breathed out, lips pressing against your cheek and down your neck. The sensation made your chest ache. “I got something to say to you.”
You tangled your fingers through his dark curls as his voice vibrated through you.
“You stole fuckin’ heart, babe,” he said. “I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”
#calum 5sos#5sos#5sos fanfic#5sos fanfiction#5sos imagine#5sos imagines#5 seconds of summer#5 seconds of summer fanfic#5 seconds of summer fanfiction#5 seconds of summer imagines#5 seconds of summer imagine#5sos au#5 seconds of summer au#calum hood#calum hood imagines#calum hood imagine#calum hood fanfiction#calum hood fanfic#90s!calum#90s!5sos#calum imagine#calum imagines#calum fanfiction#calum fanfic#calum au#calum hood au#5sos blurb#calum hood blurb#my writing
646 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
lipsill
Ok fine, even the sky looks like wine
awearyexile
A Weary Exile
slack-off-jack-off-blog
SlackOff Offical Shit Blog
eduardaraujo
madu 💘
aintnoshadow
Sin título