#the cabinet of curiosities au
Text
Thurber's Model — PT. 1 || William Thurber × F!Reader
Word Count: 8.2K
Genre: Romance, Secrecy, Sneaking Around, Off-Limits Reader, Overwhelming Attraction
Warning: Explicit. 18+ Only. unprotected p+v sex, accidental creampie, losing innocence.
Parings: William Thurber x F!Reader
Summary: William runs off to find some solitude to relieve some of the pressured of becoming the winner of this year's student art prize. In his search for the perfect place, he finds you along the way, reading your favorite play by Shakespeare.
A/N: This is for the precious @classicrebound and for our thirsty asses ♡
“Mama says you won the award for the second time this year.” He looked down at the woman on his arm. The new expression on her face was calculating. Bloody hell.
“Who was your inspiration?” she repeated more firmly this time.
“My passion is the one thing that keeps me going,” he said carefully, not caring one bit for the new gleam of interest in her eyes. He didn’t expect many people to attend the museum, compared to last year’s celebration. This one was more grand, possibly because the exhibits are displayed under Dr. Reid’s museum of Arts.
“Hmmm.” She looked over his clothes as if she were taking inventory.
He wore the latest fashion. He didn’t buy clothes often, but when he did, he went for quality. She seemed happy with what she saw if the little nod of approval was any indication.
He desperately wanted to change the subject before she inquired about his other holdings. “So, what play did you attend?”
Her face twisted up in disgust. “It was one of Shakespeare’s I’m afraid. I find them all a dreadful bore, but this one was most appalling. Mother insisted that we leave at intermission and I wholeheartedly agreed.”
He stopped short. He rather enjoyed the Bard’s plays. He couldn’t think of anything in Shakespeare’s plays that would be appalling. His works are literal works of art, “What was wrong with the play?”
“A woman was dressed in men’s clothing! It was obscene!”
“Was the woman pretending to be her brother?” William asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes! It was dreadful.”
“Was the play ‘As you like it’?”
“Yes.” It was one of his favourite plays. That answered that.
“Rebecca, allow me to return you at once to your mother. I find that I need some fresh air.” Her grip on his arm suddenly tightened.
“Fresh air sounds lovely.” She licked her lips, invitingly. Christ almighty, the girl wanted to trap him. William practically dragged her back to her mother and without another word he made his way outside.
He stayed away from the garden and woodland. Those spots were reserved for couples who dared to have an affair in the freezing weather. Just a hundred yards from the main building was the orangery, which was bathed in the warm light of multiple lanterns. On a night like this, it was the ideal place to spend some time away from everything. He seriously doubted any attractive woman would go out in this weather for a tryst. The orangery was the safest place for him, and the fires that were kept going to keep the orange trees from withering would make the interior delightfully toasty.
With the cold wind blowing in his face, he rushed the final twenty yards to the safety of the orangery, where he almost sighed with relief. With the fire crackling and oranges ripening in the background, he felt he could easily pass the next four hours here. Upon taking a closer look at the orange trees, he sighed in dismay at the realisation that this orangery had been erected relatively recently. The orange trees weren't very big, and their fruit was still unripe.
It was unfortunate that he hadn't brought anything to do while waiting, like a book or snacks. Not even an hour after eating, he was starving. It was nothing new. His hunger never subsided. Despite the fact that no one in his family ever completely understood it, at least they'd stopped making fun of him for it long ago. Nothing about spending four hours in the orangery with nothing to do or eat sounded enjoyable to him, but then, neither did going to an awards night, hearing the same compliments over and over again.
A number of oil lamps gave him sufficient light to see by. Because of the overwhelming brightness, couples often avoided coming here. There was no place for them to take cover if they were discovered. A soft noise caught his attention. He cautiously made his way through a grove of orange trees, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw what lay beyond. A woman with gorgeous brown hair that sparkled like the finest silk in the lantern light sat on a cushioned bench, reading a tiny book and laughing gently to herself.
Your laughter was like a balm to his soul, instantly relieving his anxieties even as his heart skipped a beat. As you flipped the page of your book, he didn't see that he'd inched closer to her until you let out a tiny sigh. He had no business intruding. This woman obviously came here to be alone. At last, he backed away from the situation reluctantly. He was so anxious to get out of there without being seen that he accidentally knocked over a bucket, which shattered the tranquillity of the orangery.
“Who’s there?” you demanded as you placed your book down on the bench beside you and stood.
William felt his stomach turn and his breath caught in his throat at the first real view of your face. You were excruciatingly beautiful with brown eyes. You were, without a doubt, the most stunning lady he'd ever seen, and he desperately desired you. He gave his head a slight shake. He didn’t even know this woman. What in the hell was wrong with him?
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
“I can see you, so you might as well come out,” You said, placing your small book on the cushion beside you.
A tall, dark-eyed man with a dashing smile walked forwards, and you studied him with interest. His short, black hair was fashioned in a different way than other men, but it suited him. Just like you, he had a nice tan. Your mother always seemed to find something to moan about, and your skin tone was one of them, but you were too busy enjoying the great outdoors to mind. You wanted the sun's warmth so badly that you ignored the fact that it was changing your skin tone.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll leave,” he said in a deep voice that you found soothing as he bowed slightly before taking a step back to do just that.
“No, please. Do not feel forced to leave. If you just wanted some peace and quiet, I couldn't be so callous as to send you back out into the cold. This orangery, I think, is big enough for the two of us to retreat to in peace,” you said with a smile, hating the idea of turning anyone out into the cold and forcing him to return back to an exhibit that you hadn’t been able to escape fast enough.
“How do you know that I was searching for solitude? Perhaps I was meeting a lover?” he said, regretting it before the last word left his lips.
What the hell was wrong with me? She would probably slap me or faint dead away at my lack of propriety. I truly was an idiot. William thought to himself.
You laughed instead, you actually laughed. It was gentle, mesmerising, and real. Compared to the phoney, tittering laughter of ladies like Rebecca, this was a breath of fresh air. Women like her made up their entire identities so that they would be accepted by the tonne and have a chance at finding a spouse who, like most men, wanted nothing more than a warm body to deliver an heir and didn't want the hassle of a woman with a brain.
“What’s so amusing, Miss? Are you implying that I wouldn't be able to persuade a woman to have a tryst with me?” he drawled, wondering if you knew just how charming your laugh was.
A sigh escaped your lips as you stopped laughing, but at least your smile remained. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sure a man as handsome as you would have no difficulties finding a woman to share your time.”
William was unable to suppress the idiotic grin that twisted up his lips. Naturally, he'd heard the word "handsome" thrown around to describe him before, but for reasons he couldn't explain, he took great pride in your use of it to describe him. “Then what brought you to the conclusion that I was looking for privacy?”
You shrugged as you sat back down, leaning to the side so that you could focus your attention on him. “Well, there’s the fact that this particular orangery is far beyond the appropriate distance from the Museum. No man is going to come out here with a woman unless he’s looking to be trapped.” He couldn’t help but nod in agreement.
“Another factor is the climate. The weather is rather chilly. It's likely that a lady would gripe about having to walk that far to reach the orangery. It's also possible that she'd flat-out reject the idea because she's aware it's too chilly to go outdoors and that she'd be spotted if she tried to recover her shawl.”
Once again William nodded in agreement.
“Then of course there is the obvious.”
“Which is?” he asked, moving closer.
“A gentleman would not meet a woman here. He would escort her here so she wouldn't have time to reconsider or accept an offer from another man. Also, it would take too much time away from the party for both participants. There would be the time spent waiting for the other person to come, the time spent in the meeting itself, and the time spent afterwards by whoever stayed behind so that it didn't look like the two of you had left together."
He couldn’t help grinning. The woman wasn't just beautiful; she was intelligent, too. He cast his eyes around the expansive space as an idea formed in his mind. “Hmm, you’ve given this some thought. Are you perhaps meeting someone here? Or did he already leave?” he asked, making sure to add a teasing note to his tone.
Your smile weakened a bit as you shook your head. “No, there have never been any meetings for me and there probably never will be,” you admitted with a small shrug and a wistful tone that he almost missed.
“Why not?”
“I don’t plan on marrying,” you explained with a small smile.
“Why don’t you wish to marry?” he asked, forcing himself to sound casual. He wasn’t offering. Oh, hell no. It was unlikely he would ever get married unless he really needed an heir to carry on the family name. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life with someone who was constantly in his way and needed him to make her happy.
You looked thoughtful for a moment before you spoke. “I don’t want to be any man’s property."
“I thought that’s why these things,” he gestured back towards the party, “were thrown so that young women could find themselves a husband. So, they could select an appropriate husband, someone to take care of them.”
You shrugged indifferently. “Yes, I dare say that many of the women are here for that reason and would find me utterly foolish, because I don’t wish to find a husband at one of these events.”
“Then why did you come?” He took another step closer.
“Probably for the same reason that you did.”
“Which is?” he prompted. He didn’t want you to stop talking for fear that one of them would have to leave. He wanted to make this last, but more importantly, he wanted to see your smile and hear your laugh one more time before he had to do the right thing and walk away.
“Well,” you looked thoughtful, “in your case I would assume that either your mother or your father persuaded you to attend and critique this exhibition. If I had to guess, I would say that your mother was the one that expected your attendance.”
“Oh?”
You nodded firmly. “Your mother, definitely your mother. If it was your father you would have simply made an appearance, danced with a few women to make him think that you were looking for a wife and be done with it.”
He agreed. “If it was my mother? What reason would I have to attend then?”
“Most mothers wish for their sons to marry for a simple reason, grandchildren. You came here even though you clearly don’t want to be here. You came to make your mother happy, because she requested your attendance and you obviously care a great deal for your mother. Instead of simply leaving, you searched for a place to hide.”
He arched an eyebrow at that. “Or it could be that I came here because I'm the one getting critiqued and can't leave until I hear every single opinion people have to say.” he drawled.
Your eyes slowly moved down his body in an assessing manner, but not in the same way that Rebecca had looked him over. Your gaze didn’t annoy him. Your gaze made him stand straighter as every muscle in his body flexed under your scrutiny, making him feel like an idiot even as he wondered if you liked what you saw.
“You’re obviously a man with means. You could have hired a hack and left. There’s always the card room for escape or you could have simply left with a friend.”
“Or walked,” he added.
You smiled. “I much prefer walks myself. Yes, you could have walked provided that your home was close enough.”
“Two miles.”
“That’s not too far away.”
“No, it’s not.” He rather enjoyed walks. He found himself taking walks every evening. Every night, he went for a walk. He discovered that he still loved strolling even in the bustling city of London when he visited. The obnoxious aromas and bustling crowds of the city did not seem to deter him.
He eyed you carefully. You had a delicate honey tone to your skin. You did not appear too slim or too fit. Your breasts were good size, not too big, but perfect for his hands, and from what he recalled from when you stood, your hips were generous. He was willing to bet your legs were well defined, probably from hours of walking.
“So, you’re here because your parents want you to marry,” he surmised from what little he knew about you and what he knew about women of your station in general.
You gave him a dreamy smile that made his chest tighten. “When I was a little girl I wanted nothing more than to have a season. It all seemed so magical, balls, dancing, and being courted by handsome men,” you added the last with a teasing tone. He grinned.
“Sounds like every girl’s dream to find Prince Charming. What happened to change that dream?” he asked, coming closer. He was now standing only a few feet away from you. His original thought that you were beautiful shattered. You were nothing less than a goddess.
You sighed heavily. “Nicholas.”
He felt a tug of unease. Was it jealousy?
“So, you’re in love with this Nicholas?” Please God, no. You laughed.
“No. He’s my brother-in-law. My sister married for love. She didn’t care about a title or money. He made her happy, still does. They are the happiest couple that I know and their boys are extraordinary.”
“And you want that for yourself,” he surmised.
“It will most likely never happen for me,” you said with a careless shrug that tore at his heart and left him wondering why he cared so much.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
You certainly weren't going to reveal your privileged background to a complete stranger. It could be dangerous if he turned out to be after your money. He only needs to raise the alert for you to be compromised and obliged to take his hand. You couldn't make it through life in a loveless marriage.
“So, if you wish to marry for love, why don’t you enjoy evenings like this more?”
You waved your hand lazily in the air. “This? This is all orchestrated. People come here looking for the right connection, the right amount of money, and the best gossip. No one comes here looking for love. I knew before I came out that I would never find love at a party. It would just happen…..somehow, somewhere.”
He took another step forward. “But you came anyway.”
You looked wistful. “Until the day I marry, I belong to my father and then to my husband. I am considered nothing more than property. If I wish to have certain rights or benefits I must make the man in my life happy first. Then if he is generous I might be allowed to follow my own pursuits.”
Of course that would all change with your inheritance. Without a word, he moved to sit next to you on the padded bench. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Sounds unfair, but I don’t understand what type of pursuits a woman could have that a man would not allow. Surely your father would encourage you to embroider, watercolour, and play the piano.”
“I’m afraid that you would find me quite unusual then.”
“Try me.” He tilted his head to the side to watch you as you blew out a deep breath.
“If I don’t smile, look pretty, attend the right function, accept the attention of the right gentlemen, my father will rule my life with an iron fist. Embroidery is not a hobby of mine. It seems like a better use of my sewing skills to make something warm for people rather than something just for looks, thus I prefer to make quilts. And yet, despite being forbidden to, I find pleasure in the kitchen. Society dictates that no woman should ever enjoy that. We’re meant to like ordering other people to do that for us.” you said with a conspiratorial smile that he found utterly adorable.
“But not you,” he murmured, smiling. “I bet you make delicious biscuits,” he teased.
You grinned devilishly. “My brother-in-law and nephews swear by them.”
He took another look at your slender figure. “You don’t look like someone that enjoys cooking.”
You rolled your eyes in a rather fetching manner. “I like to cook, not to eat.”
“My apologies.” He couldn’t stop smiling near you. William was sure that he looked foolish, but at the moment he truly didn’t care.
“So, tell me what other scandalous pursuits do you enjoy? Smuggling? Piracy?” he teased.
You laughed. “No, I’m not quite that shameful. I enjoy reading, attending the theatre, taking walks, gardening, shooting, and swimming."
His eyes widened in surprise at that.
“I enjoy things that my father believes are best suited for men,” you explained with an impish smile.
“I see.” He nodded, surprised by your list of pursuits. For most women, the idea of another woman enjoying such things would be completely revolting. In all honesty, he knew that most men would feel the same way. It had always baffled him because all of those things were worthwhile.
“I’m sure that you do,” you mumbled. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone that. My father would be furious if he found out that I told you. Not that it matters anymore I suppose.”
“Why doesn’t it matter anymore?” he asked in a soft tone.
“It just doesn't," you said with a shrug.
He was willing to leave it alone for the moment, but he desperately needed you to continue talking. “Have you enjoyed being out in society?”
You nodded. “I’ve enjoyed spending more time with my siblings. It’s been nice being seen as a friend and not just a little sister. They mean the world to me. I’ve enjoyed the theatre, some of the dinners, and even being courted.” you could have sworn he frowned, but it was gone before you could be sure. “All the men that have courted me have turned into dear friends.”
“But you still don’t like being out in society,” he hedged.
You turned your head and met his gaze. Your faces were less than a foot apart. William fought the urge to lower his gaze to your lips.
“Do you?”
“No, I don’t. I don’t like the deceptions. I hate gossip. I don’t like being pursued for my position or money. I hate having women trying to trap me into marriage. I despise the game that I’m expected to play. I don’t want a simpering woman to bow to my every whim. It’s ridiculous.”
You nodded in agreement as you looked away. “Yes, it is.”
After a few moments of surprisingly comfortable silence he spoke. “May I ask why you’re here playing along if you don’t want to marry?”
When you looked back at him his eyes dropped to your lips, your full, deliciously pink lips. He raised his gaze back quickly before he did something that he would regret.
“A bargain, I suppose,” you said simply.
“A bargain? Are they trying to force you into marriage? Is your family in need of money?” Another thought occurred to him, one that made his stomach twist in dread. “You weren’t caught…er…”
Please don’t let her be carrying another man’s child.
You lightly swatted his shoulder and laughed. “No! Goodness no. The men my parents are pushing my way are tiresome men like Johann Smithfield.”
William nearly choked on air.
Your smile disappeared, instantly replaced with a worried frown. “Oh no, he’s a friend of yours and I’ve just insulted him,” you said, sounding truly upset.
He threw his head back and laughed. “Smithfield, a friend? No! The man shows off every minute of the day. I couldn’t imagine a fate worse than spending an hour in that man’s company.”
“Thanks. Your words have been really comforting,” you said dryly, earning another chuckle from him. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d felt so relaxed in another person’s company. He normally kept his guard up, refusing to allow anyone to get the better of him.
You sighed heavily. “I’m afraid my parents aren’t happy with my state of life. I’m twenty-three and while they feel that I should be married by now, I don’t. I’ve turned down every suitor who’s asked for my hand. They’re afraid they’ll end up with another spinster on their hands.” They also didn’t want your inheritance left in your control, but there was no need to tell him that.
“How many men have asked for you?” he asked. He knew that it wasn’t proper to ask, but he somehow knew that you wouldn’t mind. You didn’t seem the type. You seemed honest and forthright. It was a welcome change.
Your face scrunched up delightfully. “Fifty-five.”
“Fifty-five men have asked for your hand and you’re only twenty-three? Good lord!”
You shrugged indifferently. “I’m easy to get along with.”
He liked that. He appreciated that you didn't mention your stunning good looks or the possibility of a dowry (even though he knew that at least some of the suitors were interested in either). You would be a highly sought after prize if you had a substantial dowry to go along with your stunning good looks.
“I believe it.”
Your hand found his. You gave it a small squeeze before releasing it. “I’m sorry. You came out here looking for some solitude.” you flicked your hand casually in the air. “I’ll leave you.” you reached down at your other side and picked up a small book with a well-worn leather cover.
“What are you reading?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing, he didn't want you to leave. It hadn’t escaped his notice that you’d brought a book to an event “You sneak off a lot, don’t you?”
You gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m afraid that I do have a tendency of making myself scarce.”
He noticed the invite card on your wrist. It was full, which didn't surprise him.
“And the book?”
You held it up and shrugged. “It’s one of my favourite plays. It helps me relax. I had a feeling that I would need it tonight by the way that my mother was behaving.”
He couldn’t quite make out the words from the worn cover. “Which play?”
Your whole face lit up. You obviously took great joy from your book. “'As You Like It’ by Shakespeare. It’s my absolute favourite,” you said dreamily.
William groaned. “I’m going to have to kiss you now.”
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
You didn’t have a chance to respond before his lips were touching yours. You were taken aback by the tender touch as he gently caressed your lips with his own, which prevented you from forming any words. Your hands went straight to his chest without any conscious thought. You were prepared to shove him away so that you could leave before someone found you and then were forced into a marriage that you didn’t want when something occurred to you.
What if this was your one and only opportunity to find out what it was like to be with a man, especially one who you really desired? You didn't want to go through life full of things you wished you'd done differently. You didn't want to look back on your life and wonder what you'd be missing out on if you hadn't tied the knot since you knew that's what your future held. You made the decision right at that moment that if you were destined to spend the rest of your life as a bachelorette, then you were going to savour this moment with...whatever his name was and give in to the overpowering attraction that you felt for him. After a moment, you allowed yourself to relax and to enjoy his kisses and the sensations that were teasing and tormenting your body as you lost yourself to his touch.
He brushed his lips over yours once, twice and once again. Your mouth was soft and sweet, but it wasn’t enough. He ran the tip of his tongue over your bottom lip. You gasped in surprise, opening your mouth ever so slightly, but it was enough for him. He tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss.
You didn’t know what to think when his lips moved against yours except that somehow for some reason it felt right, perfect. His kisses weren’t frantic or sloppy. They were sweet. When he teasingly slid his tongue inside your mouth you were too stunned at first to react to the invasion. Then slowly you began to melt in his arms. Your hands slid up his chest, enjoying the feel of hard muscle beneath his coat until they found his shoulders.
He groaned as he pulled you against him, enjoying himself until his damn conscience nagged at him. As wonderful as it felt to kiss you, he knew by the unpracticed strokes of your tongue and lips that you were innocent. He pulled back and looked into your eyes, praying that you wouldn’t end this. This had to be your choice, because he sure as hell wasn’t about to stop this if he had a choice in the matter.
For a moment, neither of you moved. You watched each other, panting slightly as you waited for the other to put a halt to this insanity. Slowly, he moved in, giving you a chance to stop this even as he prayed that you wouldn't. When his mouth touched yours again it was anything but timid. This kiss was hot, wild, and possessive. Words were beyond them. William pulled you closer until your breasts were pressed more firmly against his chest.
You ran your fingers through his hair, enjoying the soft feel of it. He moved his mouth away from yours, nibbling on your ear and neck. He slipped his fingers beneath the top of your gown and slowly pulled down the material, taking your shift down as well until your breasts were bare to him.
Still neither spoke.
He ran his tongue from your neck down to your breasts, leaving a wet trail behind that had your toes curling. You moaned as you ran your hands down his back, encouraging him to continue when you should be pushing him away and running as fast as your legs could carry you back to the safety of the event. He ran his tongue in a circular motion around one taut nipple before he pulled the hard pebble into his mouth, effectively killing any thoughts you might have had of ending this.
He reached up and cupped your other breast. He weighed it in his hand, squeezed it, and ran his thumb around the firm nipple. He held the breast up for his mouth and, after one last lick of the nipple he’d been worshipping, his mouth greedily accepted the offering. He licked and sucked the large breast until you were moaning louder and digging your fingers into his shoulders, desperate for more.
You thought you were going to die from the pleasure he was giving you. It felt incredible. Better than you’d ever imagined, but something was missing. After a moment you realised what that something was. You needed to touch him, too. Deciding that you weren't going to wait for an invitation, you worked his shirt off, desperate for the contact.
He was surprised when he felt your hands working the buttons of his coat, but immensely pleased nonetheless. Releasing your breasts, he pulled his cravat off and shrugged off his outer garments, leaving only his shirt until that too was gone.
You reached out with trembling hands and ran your fingers down his chest, enjoying the feel of his warm smooth skin over hard muscle. You ran your fingers tentatively over one flat nipple, making him groan. Your hands moved down to trace the muscles that made up his flat stomach. He groaned again, but didn’t say or do anything to stop you.
You wanted to keep touching him, but your arms were effectively pinned to your sides by your dress, limiting your movements. You worried your bottom lip nervously as you pulled your arms out and pushed the dress and shifted down around your waist. You watched as he ran hungry eyes over you. His response gave you the courage to continue. Pushing aside your nervousness, you leaned in and kissed him. William grabbed your waist and held you firmly as both of you kissed almost desperately.
Never breaking the kiss, he helped you to your feet until both of you were standing. He reached behind you and undid the buttons of your dishevelled dress. He slowly pushed it down and waited patiently until you stepped out of your dress, leaving you naked except for your stockings and slippers. Only one person had seen you naked before and that had been your maid. You should be embarrassed, but oddly enough with him you didn’t feel shy or self-conscious. You felt beautiful, wanted and cherished.
You watched as he kneeled down in front of you. He gently rolled your stockings down, taking your slippers off in the process. He pressed hot kisses to your skin as he made his way back up to your mouth. You pulled him into your arms and kissed him hungrily, unable to get enough of him.
His hands roamed over your body, touching your arms, breasts, stomach, back, bottom and legs. Every touch made your stomach tighten and the area between your legs ache. You wanted more, but didn’t know what.
William seemed to know. He moved his mouth to your neck and suckled your skin on the way back to your breasts. Once he found your nipple, his hand worked its way between your legs. He cupped you and ran his fingers through slick folds. You moaned loudly, unable to help yourself.
When he slipped a finger inside you, he found you hot, wet, and ready. He groaned and moved his mouth back to yours while he worked a finger in and out of you. Soon you were moving against his finger, your body desperate for release. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t even think of anything beyond getting inside you.
His other hand worked frantically at his pants. With a groan, he broke off the kiss and removed his hand from the honeyed heaven he couldn't wait to explore. He reached down, pushed his pants down and pulled his boots off until he was naked as well.
His lips quickly made their way back to yours. It was a desperate need that he couldn’t deny. He gasped and then moaned loudly into your mouth when he felt your fingers run curiously over his erection. Never in a million years had he thought that you would be this passionate, hadn’t known that it was possible.
He reached between you and gently wrapped your hand around his length and moved it, showing you what he liked. You did it, making him pant and groan. He slid his hand back between your legs, sliding a second finger inside you until you were moaning and crying softly into his mouth. They stood there for several minutes as pleasure soared through their bodies.
It was too much for any sane man to take. He pulled his hand away and pushed you gently onto the long cushioned bench with his body brushing your hand away. He kissed you deeply as he positioned himself. Part of him was aware that he was very likely about to take your virginity, but he didn’t care. You weren't saying anything and neither was he. Both of you were too far-gone at the moment to care about rules, propriety or the consequences that were most likely going to tear your lives apart.
William aimed himself and pushed in, unable to wait any longer. He heard your gasp of pain and kissed you deeply, trying to distract you. The tip of his shaft came in contact with the proof of your innocence. When you didn't protest, scream, or demand that he get off you, he pulled back and thrust in until he was buried deep inside of you.
Somehow he was able to hold back when everything in him demanded that he move. One look at your beautiful face and he was knocked on his ass. You were heartbreakingly beautiful as you tried to give him a reassuring smile even as tears trailed down your face. He pressed tender kisses to your cheeks, kissing away your tears, wanting to reassure you that he would take care of you.
He moved his mouth back to yours and he kissed you slowly, trying to show you how much being with you meant to him. He’d never felt so much for another person in his entire life and for someone he didn’t know it surprised him. He never allowed anyone to get close to him, and didn't trust anyone. He couldn't understand how you consumed his every wish and desire. He wanted to hold you all night and keep you safe from harm, something that he’d never wanted to do with another woman.
Soon, you grew accustomed to the invasion and began to wiggle beneath him, testing his control. He slowly rolled his hips making sure that you were truly ready for him. He could feel your mouth curve into a smile beneath his and that’s when he realised that he was smiling as well, making him chuckle. For the first time in a long time, he felt carefree. He kissed you deeply as he slowly thrust inside you, enjoying the feel of wet silken walls caressing his cock.
You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to hold him inside you. William cupped your breast, gently squeezing it as his thumb ran over your hard nipple. Moans, crackles of the fire, and the sounds of bodies gently slapping against each other echoed throughout the dimly lit orangery.
William could feel your body tighten like a vice around him. He groaned as he moved harder and faster, making you cry out in pleasure. Your fingernails dug into his back, but he didn’t care. He opened his eyes and watched as your world exploded. He needed you to find your release before he could pull out. He was determined to make this good for you. Your body began squeezing ruthlessly around his length. As good as it felt to have you grip his cock like this, it felt even better knowing that he’d been the one to give you this pleasure. Hell, he wanted to laugh and scream for joy that this beautiful minx found her moment with him. His minx.
The reality of the moment hit him hard. You were still squeezing him and moaning. Your mouth found his neck and kissed it greedily, sucking and licking and driving him out of his goddamn mind. He couldn’t hold back. He desperately needed to pull out. It was getting too close. Just one more thrust he told himself, just one more.
As his release rushed up on him, he gasped, trying to find the strength to pull out of you. Just as he somehow found the willpower to pull out you began squeezing him again, completely shattering his resistance. His head dropped back and he bit back a roar of pleasure as he found his own release. It was the most intense moment of his life. He continued to move until he was sure that you were done. When he felt your walls squeeze gently around him one last time, he fell on you, lazily kissing your neck, chin and mouth. Still neither of you spoke.
William was too weak to speak. It was the oddest way to take a woman’s virginity, without any spoken words of promise or explanation. He’d always been a gentle lover, taking a woman slowly to prolong his release. He'd never even taxed himself before. Right now his body was exhausted and soaked. This was the most intense sexual experience of his life and he didn’t even know your name.
Not that he ever made love to an innocent before, but surely something should have been said. Names should have been exchanged at the very least. It was without question the most passionate night of his life. He’d never been so moved by lust or need before to make him this desperate to make love to a woman.
He pulled back to look at you, expecting you to cry, scream or hit him. He’d been a cad taking your innocence. But instead of doing what he’d expected, what he deserved, you smiled sweetly up at him and pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. William turned the kiss into a slow, deep display of appreciation, passion and need. He was still inside of you and surprised to discover that he was hardening again. He wanted you once more, desperately, but he couldn’t do that to you.
He took a steadying breath and slowly began to pull out, however, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and trapped him. He raised an eyebrow in question. Then you spoke for the first time since you'd started. “Can we do it again?” you asked shyly.
Will could only chuckle. He leaned down and kissed you. “Yes, minx, we can do it again.” He punctuated every word with a slow thrust of his hardening shaft, "In one condition. . ." He paused his hips from grinding against you.
"What is it?" You whispered breathlessly.
"Let me paint an intimate portrait of you. You'd make a perfect model." Will whispers his condition against your ear, causing electricity to shoot down your spine.
You placed your palms over his chest and pushed him away, "And be showcased in exhibits like this for the world to see? Forget it."
"I didn't say anything about showing it to the world, my lady. It's intimate, it's private. It's only for my eyes to admire." Will lowered his head, his lips grazing yours as he spoke these bold statements.
A broad smile curved in your lips, "I like you."
He took you slowly this time, enjoying every single thrust inside your body. You were passionate, very passionate. You weren't content with lying there while he bedded you. You kissed his mouth, chin, and neck greedily while your hands ran through his hair, down his back, and finally cupped his ass. He could swear that you moaned with pleasure just from touching him.
He broke the kiss and pulled back just far enough away so that he could watch your face. You smiled shyly at him. You were so damn beautiful. He slowed his rhythm and made his thrusts shallower, stressing each movement. You licked your lips hungrily.
“You like that, don’t you, minx?”
“Y-yes, please don’t stop.”
He shook his head. “Never.”
He gently took your hands and held them above your head, entwining your fingers as he made love to you. The gesture made what you were doing feel more intense. Soon you were throwing your head back and whimpering.
William took your mouth, kissing you deeply as he quickened his thrusts inside you. You gripped his hands tightly. He felt your body tighten around him once again. There was no point in pulling out now. The damage was already done. You exploded at the same moment. William didn’t bother trying to hide his pleasure this time. Both of you were too far away from the loud exhibit for anyone to hear you both. Even if they weren’t, there was no way to stop him now.
“Oh God!” he roared.
He collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sated. He didn’t know many women who appreciated a sweaty man on top of them, so he moved to roll off you when your small warm arms wrapped around his shoulders.
His minx pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. You pulled him closer while you ran your hands over his damp back in a soothing motion. He kissed your cheek and was surprised when you sighed with pleasure. He couldn’t help but wonder how women could be so completely different.
You moved your head back so that you could look into his eyes. “Thank you for tonight. I’ll always remember it.” you looked and sounded so grateful. He couldn’t imagine what he'd done for you besides take your innocence without asking. He shouldn’t be thanked. He should be shot.
He sighed, shaking his head. “Minx,-”
“Shhh,” you pressed a finger to his mouth. “I don’t want you to feel guilty about this. It was perfect. This will always be the most passionate night of my life and I will always treasure it. Please don’t be mad. I’m not.”
“Minx,” he began again, “you should be mad…what we did….what I did was inexcusable. I-“
“No, no words, no apologies. Just let it remain this perfect moment between two strangers who found comfort with each other.”
Comfort? It was a hell of lot more than comfort. It was intense, indescribable, and possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever done. He’d just got himself leg shackled to this beautiful stranger.
After a long pause, he reluctantly nodded. There was no sense in arguing with you. He would never force a woman to do anything that you didn’t want to do. He certainly wasn’t about to thank this woman for the most wonderful night of his life by robbing you of your freedom without justification.
“How’s my hair?” you asked after both of you were finished redressing yourselves.
The smile took on a different meaning as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Perfect.”
“Also, here,” he said suddenly as he searched his pockets. He pulled out a small pencil stub and a small piece of parchment from his jacket pocket and wrote his name and address on it.
With a chuckle, you took the folded piece of parchment and placed it in you reticule. “Happy?”
He smiled. “Extremely.”
“Shall I go first and make my excuses to leave?”
He respectively nodded. “Thank you for a most wonderful evening, minx.”
“The pleasure was mine, sir,” you said, smiling shyly as you turned away and headed for the door.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
You had to force a pleasant smile and a deliberate stride through the crowded halls, even if all you wanted to do was get away from everyone and find a quiet place to help your pounding heart. As you made your way to an office, you avoided the many unwelcome suitors and, more crucially, your mother by blending in with the crowd. With no second thoughts, you slammed the door shut and locked it, then sank to the floor.
It only took a few seconds for reality to sink in. A sensation of your heart pounding in your chest was present. You just lost your virginity at a party to some random bloke you didn't know. While it was an amazing experience, you couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if someone had found both of you or if he had been a fortune hunter. You could at this very moment be forced to announce your engagement to a man that you didn't know.
Your entire future could have been ruined in a matter of minutes all because you allowed yourself to be carried away in a moment of weakness. You'd been so foolish and so incredibly lucky.
How could you have done something so irrational? You had a plan for your life and it most certainly didn’t involve making love to a man you didn't know in a well-lit orangery where anyone could have stumbled upon you. In a matter of months you were going to turn twenty-four and gain control over your inheritance. Then you would move to your north estate where you would live out the rest of your life away from the nonsense of this town.
You'd been such a foolish woman tonight allowing yourself to be swept away by a deep alluring voice, good looks, beautiful eyes and an overwhelming need to do the wrong thing. You'd been helpless to deny him. When his lips had touched yours, it felt like a fire had been lit in your body and you couldn't seem to get enough of him. Your cheeks burned with humiliation. What he must think of you!
A rather disturbing thought occurred to you. What if you ran into each other at another event or a party? Would he expect a repeat of tonight? Would you allow it? It scared you how quickly you were able to answer that question.
Yes, you would. If you were given another opportunity to be in his arms, you would not hesitate even for a minute. You'd risk everything for another moment with him. Knowing how weak you were when it came to the handsome stranger and what was at risk, you decided there was only one course of action left for you. You had to leave Arkham sooner than you'd originally planned.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
“There you are!” One of his professors, Mr. Dixon said brightly, too damn brightly.
William glanced around the large crowded space, hoping to find his minx. True to your word you had left. Now he was left at this dreadful event with memories of you. He could simply ask around about you, but then that would put them in an awkward position. People would want to know why he was interested and tongues would wag.
"Where have you been, boy? Dr. Reid is waiting to see you. Need I remind you that you're the winner of the student art prize?"
"No need, Sir." Will supplied a subtle impatient sigh.
Dixon releases a small grunt and straightens Will's collar and tie, "There, much better. Come along. You wouldn't want to keep him waiting."
No one in this place would suspect that Dixon had William's arm in a death grip that would no doubt leave a large bruise. Not that Will minded. He would have other marks on his body from his minx. He barely stopped himself from grinning like an idiot. You truly were wonderful, he thought just before he spotted Dr. Reid and a few other committee members standing in front of his artworks, making his smile disappear instantly out of nervousness.
“You must be William Thurber,” Dr. Reid said with a warm smile as he reached out and took Will's hand firmly into his own. The man was graying, but still an impressive sight.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Reid,” Will smiled and out of the corner of his eye he saw who he assumed was Dr. Reid's wife whisper something into a young man's ear. The young man shot his mother an annoyed look and walked away, clearly displeased with whatever his mother said.
“I must say that you are one talented artist, my boy. The way you capture beauty in your artwork is truly. . . Captivating. Congratulations.” Dr. Reid said with a warm smile that was nothing like the fake smile his wife currently had plastered to her face.
“Thank you very much,” Will said.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dr. Reid and his wife part. A second later a young woman was practically shoved between them. He saw Joe gasp and his eyes widened. Mr. Dixon looked very pleased, as did his other classmates.
William turned around to see what they were looking at and smiled. His minx.
“Mr. Dixon, William, Joe, I believe none of you have met my youngest daughter, (Y/N)?” Dr. Reid said proudly.
William felt his blood drain away from his head. Oh, hell.
#ben barnes#william thurber x you#william thurber x reader#william thurber x y/n#ben barnes x you#ben barnes x reader#ben barnes x y/n#ben barnes fanfiction#ben barnes fanfic#ben barnes fluff#ben barnes smut#the cabinet of curiosities au#william thurber
713 notes
·
View notes
Text
🍷Hannigram victorian AU😊
Hannigram AU as Pickman's Model in Victorian age (from Lovecraft and Cabinet of Curiosities 1x05)
Because behind everything beautiful lies the dark
“It's the world that's mad, Will. That's what breeds fear. Knowing what lurks in the darkness.”
"Around Hannibal and his work, I just... The darkness has a way of... catching me."
.
.
If you want to see other gifs of this serie just search the hashtag
🍷Hannigram victorian AU😊
#hannibal#hannigram#hannigram au#hannibal au#🍷Hannigram victorian AU😊#Pickman's Model#Cabinet of Curiosities 1x05#au#thanks lovecraft and the cast and crew of this ep#my gif
242 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nightmare
William Thurber x Fem!Reader
A/N: okay somehow I’ve started writing drabbles for William? Don’t know if that will continue in the future, or if anyone even wants these, but here we are
-
“William?”
Your voice is a quiet mumble, eyes aching as you try to reorientate yourself after falling out your dreams so quickly. Despite the sleepy fog clouding your mind, you’re aware of your husband sitting up in bed. His breathing sounds shaky, despite his nonchalant words,
“Go back to sleep m’love.”
You shake your head, burying your face into the warmth of the sheets beneath you for a long moment. Then you murmur softly,
“Are you alright?”
There’s a pause, and you hear William shift, running a hand over his face.
“Nightmare. S’all.”
“Anything I can do?” You ask, sliding your arms around his waist though you feel little response from him aside from the slightest shake of his head.
“You’ve had enough sleepless nights looking after James at the moment. You don’t need to deal with me too.”
At the sound of his dismissal, you cast your tiredness aside, sitting up next to him.
“William Thurber. I am your wife.” You press a kiss to his cheek, which seems to rouse him from whatever thoughts were spiralling in his mind. “And I will never let you suffer through anything alone.”
You pull away from him, and his arms wrap around your waist to prevent you from leaving. Luckily for William, you had only been reaching for the box of matches in your bedside drawer, and soon you’ve lit the lantern there, casting a warm glow over your bedroom. The light chases away whatever dark phantoms remain plaguing your husband’s mind.
His eyes are widened as they scour your face, and he cups your cheeks hurriedly, searching over your body for any sign of harm. You breathe out his name softly,
“Will?”
Tears glisten in his eyes as he continues to look at you, his voice breaking as he explains,
“It was you. In my nightmare, I woke up next to you, and you were… you were decaying like one of the dead animals Pickman used to find in the graveyard.”
The tension is visible as some of it manages to leave his shoulders once he has unloaded the weight of his nightmare. His arms return to their place around your hips as he leans closer, slumping his upper body over your legs and burying his face into your lap.
“It’s alright Will.” You assure him, stroking your fingers through his dark brown and grey marbled hair. “I know it was frightening, but that will never happen. I’m right here, safe. You always keep me safe, my love.”
His fingers curl into the fabric of your night attire, clinging onto you as you might leave him at any moment. He presses his forehead hard against your thighs, as if he’s trying to pull himself together.
Your hand slides down to the back of his neck, kneading gently at the tension that always seems to reside there. It’s a familiar gesture to you both. At the end of every day, when William comes home, you greet him with a kiss, winding your hand through his hair before you squeeze comfortingly at the nape of his neck.
The remaining tension in his body melts, relaxing into your touch as he becomes more certain that you’re real. That you’re safe. That you love him.
#william thurber#william thurber x reader#william thurber drabble#cabinet of curiosities au#fluffy drabble
147 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mutual Help | #26
↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.5k+
⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢
Two days.
Two days of utter ignorance from Jungkook. It feels like it has become his routine to wake up earlier before you, so when you wake up there's no one but you in Jungkook's home. The same thing happens every evening, when he comes home late at night and barely mutters a single greeting before he scurries to the bathroom. After that, he buries himself in a blanket still sleeping on the couch, as he leaves his bedroom all for you. At first, there were times when you felt sorry and wanted to make things right. But that's hard to do when the person you need to talk to ignores you and gives you a cold shoulder whenever you approach him. It was only today's morning, the same routine without Jungkook's presence, that you've grown tired of it.
Your apartment still isn't fixed and you've no idea how long it's going to take. The repairman texted you, saying he's working on it but you're nowhere near moving back in. Living with Jungkook isn't that much fun, especially after your conversation that caused this but no way you regret it. It was inevitable. You're aware arguments happen, but still, you do feel sad over the fact you've had an argument with Jungkook, out of all people and it's still lasting. Whenever you got into one, in no way it lasted this long. That's what bothers you the most. Luckily, your soar mood had been a little warning for Yoongi not to tease you and surprisingly, he never brought up Jungkook. This way, you had some time to think, even during busy working days without Yoongi's unnecessary and annoying remarks.
The rustling of keys, none other than Jungkook's, is being heard before you hear him clicking his security code, causing your throat to tighten. You've no idea why you're so nervous, maybe it's the fact he came earlier than usual and you hoped you'd make your escape plan without having to see him. Now, you'll have to face him because there's no way he hasn't noticed your duffel bag right next to his shoe rack.
Now or never.
Straightening yourself, you make your way out of his bedroom with your other duffel bag, clutching it in your grasp as you ignore his presence. From the corner of your eyes, you can make out his figure as he tosses his keys onto the small cabinet in the corridor. As you're in the same room, with you mentally cursing it for being so small, you can feel his eyes burning the side of your face. You're the one who's giving him a cold shoulder for a nice change, and it does feel nice. Knowing him, he probably wonders whether he should voice his curiosity or just ignore you and let you go.
Busying yourself with trying to locate your shoes, you finally find them, unfortunately right next to his feet where he's standing. Purposely, letting out a sigh of annoyance, you're about to reach for your shoes so you can get the hell out of here. The air is starting to be too suffocating for you.
"Where the hell are you going?"
Bingo.
His curiosity won, and even though there's an attitude in his cold voice, you take this opportunity to finally look at him, just to give him a nasty glare. He doesn't seem fazed by it, probably waiting for it because he knows you after all. He knows you're not a person who should be messed around with.
"Away." you reply dryly, snatching your shoes before you toss them back onto the floor.
"Is your apartment fixed?" he asks, voice imitating yours which pisses you even more. Fuck, he knows exactly where to push your buttons.
"No." Short and simple, but still you snap at him.
"Then where are you going?" There it is. The sudden change in his voice and although his voice does seem cold and distanced, there's worry somewhere in it which makes you almost smirk.
However, your features remain neutral as you look at him. Shit. One look into his dark brown eyes and you almost feel sorry for treating him this way. Well, he's the first who started. It's childish, you know. But you also don't care.
Why the hell do you care? You want to snap, showing him the true anger that's still bubbling inside of you, hiding from him. Once you'd fully snap, you know there would be another argument on the way and you want to do this calmly as much as possible.
"Probably Jimin's." you reply, biting your lower lip once your words come out a little bit harsher than you intended them to.
The truth is, Jimin has no idea about your current plan which reminds you, you should probably text him and ask him if you could crash on his couch for a few days. Until your apartment is fixed, of course, which you don't know when it will be, but it could be tomorrow. You like to stay positive, at least about this. You should take this opportunity to thank Jimin's parents for creating and raising such a sweet human being. You know you could stay with him either way, but still you should let him know out of politeness. Of course, if you weren't aware of Jimin's personality and willingness to help as much as he can, you wouldn't just ambush him. The next option is Taehyung, but the boy is too curious and blunt for his own good. He would ambush you with tons of questions, noticing straight away something happened. Jimin would too, but at least he would leave you alone if you tell him. Taehyung is stubborn and persistent.
"Why?" Jungkook asks, mumbling the question under his breath but it's clear he knows the answer to that. There's no way he has no clue of your sudden need to leave without notice.
There are a lot of ways you want to act right now. One of them is being sarcastic, angry and just overall to show him how much he pissed you off for acting so childish. Even though you're not so different either. Instead, you settle for a much more diplomatic answer.
"I know when I'm not welcomed somewhere, Jungkook." Adding his name with a cold tone adds just a little spice to this.
"Oh, come on," he scoffs, actually scoffs which makes you fume. "You don't have to leave!" he exclaims, wanting to prove a point which doesn't make sense. Men.
"And look at your huffy face? No thanks," you bite, reaching for your shoes but before you can even put your foot in one of them, they're taken from your grasp. "Hey!" you scold Jungkook, who just glares in response and tosses your shoes behind him.
Just wait, Jeon. You'll throw those balenciaga shoes he owns out of the window.
"You can barely look at my huffy face, when I'm barely here." he scoffs, purposely using your term saying he's petty and childish.
"Exactly my point," you mutter sarcastically, "Now give me back my shoes."
"No," he says simply, cocking his brow at you in a challenge.
You fume, face getting red from all the anger and you wish you wouldn't have the last ounce of control. You'd probably jump at him for provoking you. Not sexually jumping at him, of course. You'd rip his beautiful black and long hair out of anger.
"Let's talk." he proposes, voice confident and strong, but is only met with your loud scoff.
"Now you want to talk? Y'know what? Fuck you. You should've thought about it before acting like a fucking child," Your words are sharp, loud and quick, and deep down you regret for being so mean. Just because he's pissing you off with his actions and attitude, it doesn't mean you've to do the same.
Even though, he never said straightforward 'fuck you' and cursed at you, just like you did right now. He always respected you enough not to do that. Yes, he was ignoring you and acting like a child, but still. He hasn't crossed that line of disrespect and it makes you horrible, because you let your anger overtake you. And it wouldn't hurt so much if it weren't for the hurt flashing through his doe eyes.
"And y'know what else? I never wanted to make you uncomfortable or imply something that's not true, especially if it's about you disrespecting me or using me. I know you'd never do that, but curse me out for being honest and protective about our friendship. I mean, look at us! I never meant to hurt you!" By the end of the sentence, you let your voice raise while he just stands there and lets your emotions overtake you again.
"But you did," he says simply, shrugging his shoulders as if it's not a big deal but you know it is for him. That's why he's ignoring you. He's controlling his feelings of hurt and anger, not wanting to hurt you the same way you did. But you don't get what you've done wrong. You were just honest and he completely misunderstood the purpose of your conversation and why you had brought it up. "You did hurt me."
"So, instead of us talking about it like adults and friends... you've decided to ignore me? Do you realize how awful it feels to be in your home, feeling like a burden and someone you need to avoid in your own home? Don't act so surprised that I don't want to be here!" you exclaim.
Jungkook sighs, fingers brushing through his somehow curly hair before he closes his eyes for a brief moment. It's like he's trying to decide how he should react.
"Not everything is about you, Y/N." he reminds you, voice cold and stiff.
You gape at him, ready to strangle this incredibly handsome guy who has a bitchy attitude, but all you can do is stare at him in utter disbelief.
"You know what's funny?" you ask, not waiting for his response, already opening your mouth again. "You're so butthurt over something that I talked to you about because our friendship matters to me. But you're so willing letting your cheating ex back into your life--"
"Stop right there, Y/N. Or God help me." he warns you, clenching his jaw as you see the anger in his iris burning.
That was low. You admit. You shouldn't have mentioned Kiko when you know what she means to him. You purposely tried to hurt him, he knows that and that's why he stopped you before you could've continued, even though the worst part had already been said. You aimed for the most hurtful thing that happened to him, not so long ago, and you feel like a total bitch because of it.
"Let me get my fucking shoes so I can leave." you say through clenched teeth, walking towards him while you try to push him to get your shoes. It's hard, he's standing right in front of the door with his back turned to it, your shoes laying there between him and the door.
He doesn't budge, surprising you when he grabs you by your forearms, not letting you to crouch down to get your shoes. You stare at him in shock, his eyes darkening as he holds you close. He's not putting that much pressure onto your skin, still holding you somehow soft, but tight enough not to let you twist out of his hold. You hold his gaze, not showing any weakness but it's hard when he stares at you with so much intensity while he's so close to you. You can smell his cologne perfectly, the lightning in the corridor creating a nice shine on his face. Every imperfection is visible from up close, from where you're standing, and you wonder what this man did to deserve such perfect skin.
"Don't leave me." he says firmly, making you snort.
"Stop ordering me around, I can do whatever I want." you scoff, a prominent frown settling on his face.
"I'm not letting you drive in this state late at night." he says it as if it's his call to make.
"What state? You're being ridiculous. And I'm not asking you." you purse your lips, looking away from him but not before you roll your eyes.
"You're upset," Yeah, thanks to who, you want to add but keep your mouth sealed. "I'm not risking something happening to you because of our fight."
You've to admit, his words do warm your currently cold heart but you don't let it show on your face. Showing signs of weakness is not tolerable right now.
"Let me go," you grunt, doing a poor job at pushing against his firm chest that barely budges and if it weren't for the tension in the room, Jungkook would probably laugh at you for being weak.
The truth is; if you wanted, you'd just push harder until he'd let you go because he wouldn't use any physical strength without your consent. Even he knows that, that's why your weak attempt to push him makes the corner of his lips twitch. God, so annoying...
"You won't leave?" he asks, assuring with a neutral tone which makes your eyes flicker to his. He's staring right back at you, patiently waiting for your confirmation and you scoff under your breath. Just like you said; so annoying.
"I probably will." you mutter while rolling your eyes. What is the point of staying? Yes, you're upset but you're not stupid not to dry carefully. You're not that emotionally unstable.
"Then I won't let you go." he says simply, causing you to groan as you wiggle with your body but he's having a great hold of you.
"You can shove your caring up your ass, I'm not wasting my time, mhhph--"
Your eyes widen, almost popping out of sockets, when you realize you're being shut up with Jungkook's lips. He has crushed your lips together in seconds, barely giving you any time to react as the kiss is aggressive and firm, just like the tension between you is. He's still holding your forearms, smirking into the kiss when he feels you relax under his touch. It irritates you and it causes another bubble of anger to pop as you start slapping his chest, but he doesn't let you go. The kiss is good, too good for you to want it to end but you don't let it show. It'll just boost his ego anyway. He bites your lower lip, gently of course, not cracking your thin skin with his teeth as if to show his dominance, before he detaches his mouth from yours.
"I thought you'd never shut up." he rasps out, your brows pinching together, waking up from the daze his kiss caused.
Once you're back to your senses, you glare at him and nudge his chest with more strength. Jungkook's eyes widen for a moment before a cocky grin appears on his pink shiny lips that are coated with your saliva. This is a game for him, he thinks he can kiss you and make you shut up which digs into your pride.
"How dare you?" Exclaiming, you nudge him again. This time, he lets his huge body budge underneath your palms and eyes you with the same smirk that you wish you could wipe off his face. He's enjoying this, no longer holding you as his back meets the hard wood of his front door. "Stop laughing in my face!" you yell, ready to jap at his chest again but with a quick movement, he's holding you by your wrists before that could happen.
"You done?" he chuckles, amusement and cockiness dancing in his eyes.
You don't recognize him. Of course, he's devilishly hot and can use his charms very well, but you've never been in this position. Not at him being so cocky, challenging you with a single stare and attitude. You can't quite pinpoint what it is but it's fucking pissing you off. He's doing this purposely. You're speechless before you can get some words out of your very shocked and open mouth, Jungkook is already opening his one again.
"Don't act like you didn't like it," he chuckles, thumbs caressing your wrists which he still holds in his grasp.
A lump creates in your throat and you wish you could protest, even though you know he's absolutely right and he knows that too. Of course, it irritated you that he just shut you up with a kiss – fucking amazing kiss that was – but you did like it. You missed his lips.
"Oh please," you scoff, "Don't flatter yourself." you still try, lie pushing past your lips which does nothing but amuse him.
Tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he nods along your words, cockily chuckling lowly before he grabs your wrists with one hand, the other one holding the back of your head. You can feel your heart in the throat, anticipating his next move as your stomach burns with excitement despite how distant the two of you're.
You'd yelp if you had the chance to do so, especially when your mouth is clasped with Jungkook's. Dropping his hold around your wrists, his hands are cupping your cheeks as he slowly backs you, Your hands clutch the thin material of his shirt, wrinkling the expensive button up. He's everywhere, tongue exploring your mouth, teeth biting your lower lip and tugging it before he's diving back for a kiss, barely giving you a chance to catch a breath. All of your thoughts are gone, mind empty with only one purpose and that is to kiss him back. Your own hands are over his back, nails grazing his back that's covered with his shirt and that's why you put a special pressure, causing him to groan. The kiss is aggressive, no matter how many times you've had quick sex or were making out, the atmosphere was never this aggressive and there was never this much tension. He's still backing you, your ass bumping into the back of his couch that's in the middle of the room, thanks to the spacious living room he has. When he pulls away, his forehead leaned against yours, you slowly open your eyes to be met with tongue licking his bottom lip.
"Should I still not flatter myself?" he asks confidently, cocking his brow at you as you glare at him.
"You're so fucking annoying." you remark, not having enough time to even add something as he's kissing you all over again.
The kiss is heated, you can feel every fiber in your body heating up from his lips and touch, a shameless moan escaping your lips. Your own body betrays you, the tingling feeling between your legs and in your lower stomach is hard to ignore. You grow greedy, feeling up Jungkook's chest and back while your lips move against his so quickly that you can barely keep up.
"Jungkook," you moan, his mouth on your neck as he bites you gently into the crook of it. Licking the faint mark of his teeth, he sucks your skin there while a gasp of pleasure resounds from you.
Your hand goes between his legs, feeling the hardening bulge and you give it a squeeze, his body shivers for a moment. When you give him an intentional and hard squeeze, his deep growl of irritation is pleasing for you. Jungkook doesn't waste time, growing annoyed at the fact you just grabbed his dick knowing it'll hurt, and he turns around quickly. So quickly that you almost get a whiplash, your body hovering over the couch as he bends you over it. Luckily, your arms catch you before your head can bump into it and if it weren't for the awkward position, you'd cuss him out for being so reckless. Surely, there was no real danger for you but it still caught you off guard and you really don't need to bump your head because of him.
It all happens quickly. First, you feel Jungkook's hands on your sweatpants that you've changed yourself into after you got from work. They pool around your ankles, Jungkook's fingers already tracing the hem of your cotton panties. If you knew this was about to happen, you'd wear a better pair.
"You still on your period?" he asks mindlessly, tucking his finger underneath your underwear as he plays with it.
Your eyes widen, your body straightening in a second as you slightly bump into Jungkook's chest. You're remembered that in fact, you should still be having your period. But last time you checked, there was barely any blood and it's possible that it ended.
"Wait--yeah, I mean it's ending." you answer, just in case because you don't know what will happen once he'll stick it in. Oh god.
"We good then?" he asks to be sure.
"You tell me." you tell him breathlessly, stealing a glance at him behind your shoulder.
"I don't mind," he tells you, voice low and husky as you feel his breath fan against the back of your neck. You shudder, licking your dry lips as you give him a nod.
"Me neither."
That's all it takes for him to bend you over the couch again, causing you to yelp while Jungkook's busy taking off your panties. They pool around your ankles, along with your sweatpants as Jungkook gently kicks your legs apart. Thank god you're bent over, so you don't actually stumble from Jungkook's action. You feel the tip of his fingers brushing against your heat, voice humming at the wetness that coats his fingers. You're embarrassed because now he knows you're aroused, too aroused judging by the slick noises that are heard between your legs and caused by Jungkook's slim fingers. One second he's rubbing his fingers against you, the next you hear the rustle of his belt unbuckling, following the sound of a zipper before you feel his dick poking your ass cheek. Your breath catches in your throat, thighs begging to clasp together so you can get at least some kind of friction. In your current position, it's almost impossible to get some relief.
"What did you say to me? That I should shove my caring up my ass?" he asks deeply as you suck in breath, heart racing against your chest. "What if I shoved something else up your ass?"
"What?" you breathe out, not hiding how shaky your voice is.
"You did tell me you would let me fuck your ass."
You shoot up, back bumping into Jungkook's hard chest as he catches you by your hips. If he's surprised by your sudden reaction, he doesn't react and chuckles into your ear instead. His lips hover over your earlobe before his nose pokes your temple. Jungkook's hot breath fanning your face makes you shiver, adding just the right pinch of temptation into the air.
"You're not going anywhere near my ass with your dick, Jeon." you manage to say, voice harsh and showing that despite your current position, you're not weak and there are still emotions of frustration and anger lingering between you two.
"You told me the opposite." He has the audacity to say, but there's a hint of amusement in his tone.
"I'd promise you anything in the middle of sex." you point out, not forgetting to scoff out loud.
"Good to know," he hums, causing you to frown but before you can remark something smart and sarcastic, his hands grip you harder. "Don't worry, I won't do anything you're not comfortable with."
It's weird. Even though there are so many untold emotions and thoughts between you two, he still manages to assure you that you've nothing to worry about. You've never been in this position with Jungkook, this is new but both of you can't seem to think about it too much. And you're mad, so mad because he's been acting like a child but his hands on your hips, hot breath on your skin and knowing what's about to happen is all you can focus on.
"I wouldn't let you." you still remark sassily, hearing him chuckling before you're pushed over the couch all over again. You yelp in surprise, catching yourself just at the right time while you hear him rustling behind you before his wallet is thrown next to you.
When his length makes contact with your ass, you feel him already wearing a condom before he starts pushing in. He always stretched you out, as far as you can remember, but this time he's splitting you open as you gasp at the sudden pressure of his thick length. He's not extremely quick but not slow either, just enough to surprise you with the pace he had chosen. Filling you up to the brim, you gasp as he starts pulling out before he smacks his length back into you. His thighs slap against your ass as he sets a rustless pace, as soon as he hears moans and gasps leaving your mouth.
He's quiet. There are no words, no pet names that flow out of his mouth freely and you wish he would tell you something. His dick inside of you feels fucking amazing, it really does but there's something blunt about it when there are no words coming out of him. He delivers a few slaps to your ass, something tells you it's because of his own frustration and build up feelings. Although, you can't be sure because his palm had met your ass a lot during sex.
You're gasping, moaning and desperately clutching Jungkook's blanket that has been his only source of warmth for the past couple of days. There's a faint scent of him lingering on the soft fluffy blanket and you realize how much you missed him during those sleepless nights.
Your body is pulled up, by none other than Jungkook's strong arms as you bump into him again, your bodies still connected as he stops his thrusts. You whine, wishing he'd continue as his hard length is pressing against your cervix. Jungkook's fingers tap against your lips as you open your mouth in a silent question, his husky voice carrying itself; "Put them in your mouth."
And you do, you swirl your tongue against his two fingers coating them with your saliva as he hums approvingly into your ear. Shivering, he pulls them out before you feel them circling your puckered hole. Not having the time to show your concern, your tensed muscles speak for themselves as Jungkook reacts.
"Trust me." he says, words simple and short as you give him a brief nod, his hips already working as he starts thrusting into you again.
Throwing your head back, you lean against his shoulder as pleasure shoots straight through your entire body. It feels so fucking good. You can feel him so good, your walls wrapping around his thick length while his palm is sprawled over your lower stomach. You glance down, surprised that there's evident bulge that's caused by Jungkook's length. You can see him moving inside of you, your walls clenching as you shut your eyes in pleasure. It's becoming too unbearable and he barely started.
However, Jungkook proves that he's nowhere near done and he's got much more up his sleeve as his finger slowly enters your puckered hole. Just the tip, enough for you to feel the sudden pressure he puts there. Your reaction is natural and a low moan rasps out of your throat. If it weren't for Jungkook's tight grip over your waist, and the fact you're stuck between him and the couch, you would meet his thrust but there's no space for you to move. Something tells you, you wouldn't be able to move either way. You're completely frozen as you welcome the pleasure Jungkook is delivering to you and your body. Pulling his finger out of your puckered hole, he goes between your bodies where you're connected as he gets some of your arousal onto his fingers, before he's back at your ass and enters you. He's not completely in, just putting enough pressure as he starts pumping the tip of his fingers all while he's pounding you.
"Fuck, Kook." you gasp out, his hand disappearing from your waist and just as you're about to complain, he's wrapping his hand around your throat.
Your eyes roll back, especially when he squeezes your neck softly and grunts into your ear. Oh fuck, you're going to be so sore after this. But you don't regret it and you chase your high, clutching Jungkook's tattooed arm. Your nails dig into his skin, your body barely holding up as your legs tremble.
"So good." you mewl, wishing he'd react in some way, a verbal way so you could hear him saying all those nasty stuff but he's quiet.
Not having enough time to think about it, because he's making you feel so fucking good, your whole body shudders as you approach your intense orgasm. His length, finger still pumping into your other hole, you feel so full that you just couldn't hold it up for much longer. His hand around your neck is just a huge bonus that makes everything more intense. Your legs shake as you're cumming, walls clenching repeatedly around his thick length that still thrusts into you. The orgasm lasts long, longer than you thought it would but you're not complaining. Jungkook delivers a couple of harsh thrusts that make you wince, his hips slapping against your ass for a few times before he's cumming, filling up the condom. He growls, his thrusts sloppy as he rides himself through the orgasm. Your chests move quickly, your bodies exhausted as his hold on you easens up and you no longer feel him pressed against you. His warmth is gone as soon as he pulls out of you, your walls aching and heat already swollen, but you love that feeling.
You've to clutch the back of the couch, holding yourself for balance and support while you're trying to catch a breath. Glancing at Jungkook, you stare at him with your heart painfully twisting in your chest as you watch him taking off the condom as he walks away. He walks away without uttering a single word as he makes his way to the bathroom.
Maybe he went to throw out the condom, he'll be back. But he's not. As soon as you hear the water being turned on and the faint sound of him closing the shower door, you know he's not coming back. Gulping, you pull up your panties and sweatpants, cringing when you feel your cum dripping down your thighs. Ignoring the pain in your chest, you walk into the bathroom where you see Jungkook standing naked in the shower. His face is facing the floor, as water keeps dripping down his body with black hair covering his features. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you complement what you should do. Should you just leave? Is there a point of talking when he walked away just like that? But then, you're remembered by his words and how he said you hurt him. You want to know what that was about.
Taking off your clothes, you ignore the nervosity you suddenly feel as you open the shower door and stand behind him. Completely naked, you don't let your eyes drop to his ass knowing you would be distracted. But there's something about being in here with him, in complete silence. It's intimate and of course, you were showering together before but today's situation is different.
You're surprised how cold the water is, it's almost freezing and you're thankful that Jungkook's body is covering you from the strong flow of the water. Still, some amount of it splashes onto your body and it makes you shiver, but you don't move.
"So, you fuck me and then just ignore me?" you ask, voice loud enough to echo in the bathroom as he doesn't move an inch.
There's no way he didn't hear you. He knows you're standing behind him, he probably knew that you're here as soon as you stepped into the bathroom. He's not surprised by your sudden voice that resounds behind him, his back muscles tense as he lets the freezing water coat his entire body. Just when you think he won't be answering and his next plan is to ignore you, he lifts his head up and slides his hair back to get it off his face.
"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asks, still not turning to you.
"No," you answer immediately, scoffing. "No, Jungkook. That's not what I wanted." you point out, voice harsh but somehow broken.
"Do you think I want to be fucked and ignored? And feel used and dirty? Like a slut?"
He turns around, surprising you as you almost stumble, staring at you with furrowed eyes.
"I don't understand you," he admits, "You told me I was too affectionate and now that I'm not, I make you feel used and dirty?"
You can hear the pain in his voice. Jungkook has been acting childish, but that's just your point of view because you've no idea what's going on inside his mind. But you know him long enough to know that your confession probably hurt him more than it did hurt you. Jungkook never wanted you to feel that way, that was the whole point of being affectionate because he didn't want you to feel used. That's what he told you, right? Some of it is starting to make sense.
"Kook," you breathe out, the nickname slipping out of your mouth before you can stop it. "I meant outside of sex. You weren't affectionate just during sex. And I didn't mind it, I don't mind that. It felt nice, it feels nice to have you so close," you speak, admitting your thoughts out loud.
Jungkook and you were affectionate a lot, maybe that's why everyone thought you're secretly dating and wouldn't believe you if you told them that's not true. But never to the point you'd kiss each other out of nowhere or act differently. The affection is different from what it used to be and maybe that's what scares you.
"But if we kept it going... I don't want to think about what could've happened. I care about you, I love you and I want to protect this friendship." you tell him, his doe eyes staring back at you as he nibbles on his bottom lip.
"Yet, you came here while I'm showering naked. Isn't that crossing a line too?" There's no harshness in his voice, he sounds genuinely confused and curious, maybe even skeptical.
You freeze, stuttering over your words as you grow frustrated by the sudden call out. Shit, he's right. You just came into the shower, knowing he's here completely naked and showering. Well, you did have sex just a few minutes ago but still – the deal is about sex, and intimacy and affection is a different topic. The main topic right now.
"I wanted to talk..." you mumble, knowing how stupid that sounds. You could've just waited until he's done but you came here straight away. But that's because you're that comfortable with him. "See? This just shows that I'm comfortable with you. You've never made me uncomfortable. That's not what this is about."
Silence. He just stares at you before he takes a deep breath.
"I felt like an idiot. But I was embarrassed too," he admits, voice suddenly quiet and timid as if he's telling you the darkest secret.
You've questions, you're curious but you let him talk.
"I was so fucking embarrassed because I did those things without even realizing them. I mean... of course, I knew I was about to kiss you or something. But I never dwelled onto it too much. What I mean by that is... that I wanted to feel some kind of love and affection. I was craving it, I wanted to be loved." he admits, his voice cracking as you open your mouth and hold back your tears.
The sight of him standing there so vulnerable does something to you. He's showing you the raw side of him, a complete other side and you finally realize there was so much more behind his reaction.
"Kook..." you murmur, trying to reach for him but you stop, not knowing if that's the right thing to do. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"What? That I just want to feel loved?" he scoffs, as if that's embarrassing to admit such a thing.
"There's nothing wrong with that." you tell him, wanting him to know that but he completely ignores that.
"You know what I'm ashamed about? That I didn't think about our friendship more. It should've been me, I should've stopped doing that but I kept going because I was just searching for something that I was craving for."
It all makes sense now. Part of you is still frustrated that he acted this way but everyone battles with their own emotions differently. He had never disrespected you or done something that is unforgiving. You wish you would know sooner what is the main reason behind him being so affectionate. The fact he wants to be loved makes your heart crack. You realize that Kiko really hurt him and even though he loves her and wants her back, he knows she fucked him up. But he loves her too much to let her go and that's even more painful. He's mad at himself, he wants to let her go and be angry but he can't. He told you that before.
"I'm so sorry, Kook." you tell him, eyes watering as he looks up at you as he shakes his head.
"I don't need pity, Y/N."
Y/N. It's like a slap to your face. No baby, nothing. You hate how much that affects you.
"I'm not pitying you," you deny, even though you know that's bullshit. Jungkook knows that too. "I just wish things would turn out differently. I hate when we fight, we've never fought like this ever before."
For a moment, he turns around and turns on warm water as he scoots back to give you enough space to shower as well. You thank him, your heart warming up over the fact he noticed your shivering body and goosebumps even though his eyes never left your face. It's kind of funny, he's trying to be respectful while you're standing in front of him completely naked, as if he wasn't buried inside of you just a moment ago.
"I hate that too," he admits, "I'm sorry too, y'know. I should've communicated with you differently."
"Yes, you should," you tell him, reaching for his shower gel that he hands you as you thank him. "But I understand that there is a lot going on for you. It was just discommunication on both sides, I'm glad we're talking about it."
And for the first time in a few days, Jungkook gives you a faint smile. It's faint, but you notice it right away and it makes you mimic it too.
"Please, don't leave." he blurts out, your mouth falling open as you stare at him. "To Jimin's or anywhere."
Jungkook has always been a person who liked his own privacy, but he cherished his friendships and relationships with people. Considering how he's feeling now, it only makes sense that he doesn't want to be alone.
"Okay, I won't." you tell him as he gives you a short nod.
The air is getting better, despite the steam that's filling up the bathroom from the warm water, but there's still a weird tension in the air.
"I'm sorry." he says again, putting the shower gel back in its place as you hand it to him.
"You already said that," you chuckle, "I'm sorry too."
"You've nothing to be sorry about. All you did was look after our friendship." he tells you, slightly shaking his head as you sigh.
"I was looking after our friendship but I should've looked after you too. I never knew you felt that way, but please know that I enjoyed all those times and days with you. Kissing or not, I liked that. I just got scared because I realized that it's something we've been doing without talking about it or noticing it that much."
He nods along with your words, silently agreeing with you. "Well, there's no way you would know. I didn't talk about it and to some extent, I didn't realize that I'm the one who's looking for some affection. I just felt lost and alone, and you're always there for me. Which doesn't justify my actions because I shouldn't be kissing you or touching you without--"
"Kook, before you start guilting yourself all over again, I liked it. Okay? I liked the fact you respect me enough not to dump me after we had sex. You never made me feel used."
At this point, you feel like you're just repeating yourself but you've to because you know Jungkook. He's going to gulting himself, thinking everything is his fault when it's not.
"I'm sorry about today... after we had sex and for ignoring you all those days," he says, stopping you with raising his finger when he sees you already opening your mouth. "I just didn't know what I should do when we were... done."
You both cringe at that, laughing as he shakes his head. "I don't want to overstep any boundaries. I care about you too much, Y/N. You're always going to be one of the most important women in my life. I'd hate myself if I ruined anything between us."
Your heart swells at his confession, your eyes watering as he stares at you with big doe eyes.
"Shut up, you're gonna make me cry."
"Then cry," he shrugs, "But I need you to know that." he says, chuckling as you slap his chest.
"I know that, Kook."
"Good," he nods, tone firm but light at the same time. "That's all that matters to me right now." he mumbles, sounding as if he's saying that to himself but you hear him and still smile.
You both shower in silence, messing around when Jungkook bumps his hip into you saying you're taking up all the space. You do the same to him, causing the two of you to laugh as you come back and forth, until you're coming out of the shower together wrapped in towels. Jungkook wipes the fogged mirror with his hand while a towel is wrapped around his hips, hanging dangerously low as a prominent v-line disappears underneath the black fabric of his towel.
No, Y/N. Don't.
You both dry yourselves, getting into your pajamas as you clutch Jungkook's hand when he's walking out of the bathroom. He stares at you with curious doe eyes as you bite your lower lip. "Sleep with me tonight?"
"Are you sure?" he asks, a worry flashing in his eyes as you nod.
"I am," you assure him, "I just want us to be like we used to be. I want my best friend."
"I never left." he whispers and you look at him with pouty lips.
"You know what I mean."
"I know, I know," he says, tugging your arm as he pulls you closer. You're pushed onto his chest, finally feeling that warmth and comfort of your best friend as you wrap your arms around his body.
He does the same thing, hugging you as you feel his cheek pressed on the top of your head.
"I'm going to Busan next weekend. Wanna come with me?" he asks suddenly, causing you to freeze as you look up at him, both still embracing each other.
Jungkook stares down at you, patiently waiting for your response as he chuckles at your big eyes. "Why are you going there?"
"To visit my parents." he answers.
Of course, why else would he go there? Chuckling at yourself, you nibble on your bottom lip as you let his question linger in your head. He wants you there? It's been awhile since you've seen his parents and family.
"I'd love to," you answer honestly, "But what about--"
"Tomorrow," he says simply, cutting you off as he cups your face. Just as you wait for his lips to touch yours, he doesn't move an inch and all you do is stare at each other. "We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" he asks, making sure you agree with him.
There's no reason for you not to agree and you feel like it's enough for today. You're just glad you're no longer fighting.
"Tomorrow." you tell him, letting him lead you to his bedroom as he makes sure every light is turned off.
Jungkook doesn't cuddle you, he keeps a safe distance between you two but you know he's there and you're no longer alone. Just his presence is enough and even though your hands are itching to get closer to him, you stay glued to the left side of his bed. His warmth and nice scent is all that slowly lulls you to sleep, the last thing you hear is Jungkook telling you goodnight but you're too tired to say anything back.
#jungkook x reader#jungkook fake dating#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#bts au#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook x you#personasintro
521 notes
·
View notes
Text
table for two | lsm
seokmin thinks recovery looks beautiful on you.
pairing: lee seokmin x reader
au: established relationship, slice of life
genre: fluff, hurt/comfort (sort of?)
type: drabble | 860 words
rating: pg-13 — minors still do not have my consent to interact.
content: gn!reader; reader’s physical appearance is not described in any way; seokmin is the best of all boys; food/beer mention + consumption; seokmin’s pov.
tw: reader is referenced to be in recovery (implied to be for an unnamed eating disorder) ! there are no depictions of disordered eating; however, seokmin thinks about things reader no longer does ! specifically, this references the absence of past distraction tactics (pushing food around plate, picking up a bite and setting it back down during conversation) ! seokmin notes that reader sits with him for over an hour after eating, rather than disappearing (reference to implied history of purging) !
a/n: this is deeply, deeply, deeply personal. i wrote this because i need comfort; and i am posting it publicly in case it can be source of comfort for someone else. it is based on my personal experience and may not be reflective of any other person’s experience. please review the tw’s and skip this drabble if you believe any part of this will make you uncomfortable or unsafe.
if you are based in the u.s., this website has resources that may be helpful for you.
multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.
Seokmin is at the stove with a wooden spatula in hand when he feels your arms slither around his waist. The warmth of your cheek presses into the space between his shoulder blades, just like the tiny, contented sigh you breathe out. Without the sizzling pan in front of him, he might’ve given into the urge to go boneless; to melt into your hold, like marshmallow over a campfire.
Gooey may not be glamorous, but it’s the best way to describe how he feels around you.
“What are you making?” You mumble from behind him, curiosity evident despite how muffled your words are
He bites his lips to keep from grinning. Really, he doesn’t want to make it a big deal, but it is. This might be the first time you’ve ever asked him that question with interest, rather than carefully-cloaked dread. The first time you sound genuinely eager.
If his heart gets any warmer, it’ll burn his —
“Dakgalbi!” And even though you can’t see him do it, Seokmin wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis as he lilts, “With a special ingredient.”
You pull your cheek from its resting place, thankfully without removing your arms. He cranes his neck to meet your eyes over his shoulder just in time for you to snort, “Love?”
Well…
Honestly, it’s no surprise that you catch his cheesy joke before he can properly drop it. He’s cast this line at you a million times before — and that’s a conservative estimate.
Seokmin paints on an exaggerated frown, blinking his wide fake-offended eyes back at you. “My halmoni’s kimchi,” he says through a pout.
You nod appreciatively, then you kiss the pout right off his face, leaving Seokmin to wonder if you’re really talking about fermented cabbage when you sigh, “The best there is.”
The distraction you create is more than welcome, but the dish he’s neglecting starts sputtering in an ominous way that demands immediate attention. Reluctantly, he turns back around to stir. Even more reluctantly, you withdraw your arms from him; your soft footsteps pad off somewhere he can’t see.
Then, he hears a cabinet open.
Then, the distinct clink of two bowls being lifted from the shelf.
Two bowls, Seokmin notes, and he’s unable to fight off a grin this time.
Once the chicken and sweet potatoes are thoroughly cooked, you reappear at his side with two bowls at the ready. Two portions are doled out carefully to avoid spilling any sauce on the counter, then two pairs of chopsticks replace the wooden spatula in his hand.
You sit together at your small kitchen table, and it feels natural now, like this is something you’ve always done. It’s not; it’s a recent development, but there’s an ease to it all now that wasn’t there before.
Seokmin’s instincts tell him to be cool about it. To not stare lovingly at you, as much as he may want to, because that spot-lighted attention would freak him out, too. But even without watching outright, he notices the thousand little hard-fought changes.
When you pick up a large bite of chicken between your chopsticks, you don’t distract with a question or joke just to set the bite back down, undetected. You chew that bite, making some thoroughly delighted sound, and then you take another one.
You don’t push the food around in your bowl, either, but eat your fill from it. Once you do, you don’t disappear. Instead, you stay put, laughing through the rest of the hour while Seokmin eats his first and second servings. You’re present, accounted for, and best of all, happy to be here.
This isn’t the first meal you’ve spent like this — Seokmin trusts implicitly that it won’t be the last — and yet he still feels pride bubble up in his chest in a way that makes his tear ducts tingle. Again, he reminds himself to be cool about it. He clears his throat, as if it’s the gochugaru affecting him and not his admiration for you, and he takes a sip of the beer you decided pairs best with the stir-fry.
Licking the excess foam from his lips, Seokmin sets his glass down and looks up at you. The echoing sip you take is earnest, rather than performative, and it’s followed by a sigh that sounds relieved.
“I love you, you know,” he states plainly.
I’m so fucking proud of you, he implies.
“I know.” You shrug, then the nonchalance gives way to a giggle. Your shoulder knocks gently into his before you lean closer and rest your head there. “Ditto.”
Seokmin rests his cheek against the top of your head. His eyes flutter shut in the comfortable silence that follows, too full and content to even think of doing dishes.
After spending a few minutes that way, you speak again — softly, because you know he startles easily: “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow.”
“Oh?” He asks without a clue where this train of thought is heading.
“Perfect pajeon weather. We should make some, don’t you think?”
What Seokmin thinks is that recovery looks beautiful on you.
Nodding minimally to avoid shaking your head along with his, he agrees, beaming all the while. “Perfect indeed.”
#svt#seveteen#dk#dokyeom#lee seokmin#svt drabble#svt fluff#svt hurt/comfort#svt x reader#seokmin drabble#seokmin fluff#seokmin hurt/comfort#seokmin x reader#dk x reader#dokyeom x reader#jade writes#kvanity#re: table for two
215 notes
·
View notes
Text
— i’ll be seeing you | part i
[masterlist] | [playlist]
invisible man!alfred pennyworth x f!reader
rated e - 6k
tags: invisible man!au, age gap, holiday fluff, light angst, alfred is fully invisible/silent to reader, shared spaces, mutual pining, magical elements, bruce being bruce, mentions of food/eating, unintentional gaslighting and domestic (non-sexual) voyeuristic observation, the beginning of feelings
a/n: hi! here is part i! this was a one-shot that got a little long, so I am splitting into three parts. The rest are mosty written, I hope to have them up soon (and really hope you enjoy this little holiday au!) 💕❄️
There's something wrong with Wayne Tower. Doors creak open on their own. Your things move when you're not looking. It's not a far stretch to think that Gotham might be haunted, with all of the things you've seen over the years. And it will take more than this to scare you away.
But as the days pass... you realize that perhaps, that's not its intent. That there's kindness and thoughtfulness in those movements you catch. And when you have a literal run-in with the ghost, it leaves you suddenly wondering - just who or what have you been staying with?
The Tower must be haunted.
It’s the only explanation you can think of.
You’ve been staying here for a little over a week now. A offer from Bruce that tips heavily in your favor - the use of the Tower for six weeks, while he is abroad.
Glorified house-sitting, needing someone to keep an eye on things while he was gone. Pick up the occasional package from Wayne Enterprises. Use up the perishables in the fully-stocked fridge, before they are wasted.
For you, it’s honestly a no-brainer. The perfect escape, the solace you thought was so needed to work on finishing up and editing your novel.
You jumped at the chance to help your friend, and privately, you’d always been curious to see just what lied in the penthouse. A chance to peek at the bookshelves and cabinets filled with curios. See how the hallways might twist and turn, to run your fingers over all the intricate wooden carvings.
But that has been before.
Before things started moving. Mail you had been so sure was left on the heavy wooden table in the open foyer, now on the desk. Those tall, arched doors that seemed to creak open on their own, just barely caught in the corner of your eye as you were passing.
Footsteps, in the night.
And then - turning even more peculiar, and more personal.
Your scattered research notes carefully stacked on the table next to you, when you woke from a lazy, afternoon nap. Some items in the kitchen never seeming to go empty, no matter how many times you’ve used them.
It had been a mystery. Unsettling, in the variety.
What you knew of ghosts involved spirits, unable to move on. Beings who lashed out, sought to frighten its inhabitants away. Or possess them.
At night, when you’re alone in the guestroom, you think you ought to be nervous. Afraid that you presence might have caused it displeasure, that it somehow, would take that anger out on you.
But, this is Gotham, after all. And with the hell the city has been through, you’ve lived through worse. The prospect of a haunting doesn’t seem as frightening compared to them. The creak of old floors is nothing compared to riddling clues and murdered politicians, thousands of people displaced from their homes as the city had gone near-underwater.
No, it’s something more like curiosity that flickers through you. After all, these movements were almost… helpful.
Intentional, at least.
And with that thought - something Bruce had said nudged at you, from the morning he handed over the keys.
But surely it had been a joke.
An internal amusement, at your expense.
“I’ll be six hours ahead, but text if you need me. You don’t have to worry about the Tower or cleaning, Alfred will take care of everything.”
“Alfred?” You had asked him, frowning. The name tickling something in the memory of your friendship, but you thought Bruce had lived alone.
“Don’t worry about it.” Bruce had coaxed, before changing the subject, “You won’t even see him.”
There had been no Alfred.
You were certain of that - by now you’d know if you were sharing the space with someone.
The Tower was expansive, but it was impossible that if they did exist, that they would always be in the exact opposite room as you. That your paths surely would have crossed by now.
You thought that perhaps, it was some form of Artificial Intelligence. Parts of the house hooked to some sort of electronic device he could monitor - call in any fixes or deliveries from home.
Alfred was probably an acronym for something clever.
Artificial Life For Reliable, Effective Delegation
It would make sense, with Bruce’s knack for gadgets. His fortune. The hours he kept - not a lot of room left to keep up with a dwelling as large as this. Far too busy and focused to worry about the daily minutia of bill-paying and grocery shopping.
Yes, surely - that was it.
And it had contented you, for a little while.
Until now. Because it didn’t explain this.
The last thing Bruce had told you to do was not to snoop. Tacked on at the end while he buttoned up his dark peacoat, baggage in hand - almost as if he had almost forgotten.
“Enjoy yourself.”
“But stay out of the west wing, alright?”
It had been on the tip of your tongue to ask just what you should be avoiding. Your interest piqued - all manner of thoughts of what he might be hiding springing into your consciousness - though you tried to forget it.
Bruce had been far too generous already, in offering you his home. You would never intentionally disobey his wishes.
And you hadn’t meant to. Really.
You had just gotten turned around in the mix of different rooms. The large split staircase had lead you upstairs, along a corridor of bedrooms - a narrow spiral back down popping you out near the kitchen. Around a corner, and you’d found yourself beneath an arched passageway that you haven’t been down before.
Intricate oil paintings lined the walls, ones you had ached to see. To examine the brushstrokes yourself, the splashes of gold and crimson against the dark walls. The shut doors flanked by suits of shining silver armor, and… was that a chain on the door, at the end?
If you were just there, if you didn’t open anything…. then it wouldn’t be snooping if you just peeked around. Right?
You had only taken a half-dozen steps down the hallway, before you suddenly collided with something solid. A soft noise ripping from you as you had stumbled, knocked off-kilter.
There had been a pinching at your elbow, a pointed pressure that steered you around. A feeling at the small of your back guiding you forward, as you suddenly found yourself facing the passageway you had just walked under.
It happened so quickly that you hadn’t been sure what happened. Startled enough that you abandoned your exploring, making for familiar territory instead.
But that night, the memory had kept you up. Replaying it over and over. Enough that you had texted Bruce, a quick message that had already made you feel foolish the second you had sent it.
Is your house haunted?
His answer coming some time later, your eyes heavy and red-rimmed with exhaustion.
Isn’t everyone’s?
Leaving you to wonder if Bruce hadn’t really been joking, after all.
It doesn’t happen again for a solid week. Long enough that you had started to doubt that it ever did. That perhaps, you had just imagined it.
Giving you time to turn the moment over again and again, in your mind. Picking at the loose thread thing together the pieces. Your writings sidetracked by searches for ghosts, of hauntings - you suppose it would not be unusual, in a place like Gotham. To have spirits attached to a city that feels so cursed at times.
But, you keep going back to that pressure. The feeling of a hand at your arm, though there had only been the walls and floors ahead of you.
It had been physical. Corporeal.
You notice more, in that time after.
More moments that you had spared a quick glance and thought of, but figured it had been in your head. The occasional dirty dish left in the sink is cleaned and tucked away the next morning. The blankets on the couch neatly folded, instead of strewn across the cushions.
At first, you had thought you had just forgotten. That perhaps your mind had just wandered, that you had been unintentionally tidying up as you mentally worked through your next task.
It wouldn’t be unusual - since you arrived, your sleep schedule had twisted. Mornings becoming afternoons. Night becoming day, with no one’s responsibilities to manage but your own.
Running on auto-pilot and simply not realizing.
If it is a ghost, it is a tidy one.
It's that thought that begins to cement your earlier suspicions. That their identity just might be the one that Bruce was hinting at, when he said you didn't have to worry about the Tower.
Some small comfort in knowing that he would never leave you in any danger. That you might have been on edge - with the creaking of doors at night - but that harm would not come to you.
That hypnosis’s tested as time passed - there were no threats, smeared with jagged letters in the fogged-up mirror after your shower. No swinging chandeliers, loosening on their own to crash down against your head.
That whatever it was, it kept its distance.
An intrigue slowly forms, that only grows with time. A urge to find out more - determined to see something, to make contact, again.
Even if you can't help being annoyed, as well.
Trust Bruce to let you think your mind was playing tricks on you, instead of telling the truth.
And with your now-careful surveillance - you finally catch when they slip up.
Your chin has been propped on your hand for some time now as you think - staring out of the tall, arched windows in one of the alcoves of the foyer. Head tilted to the side, so you can watch the small cars below - the tiny movements of people as they scurry into stores, to escape the cold wind that whips through the city streets.
There's a movement, then. Not outside, not below.
A flickering out of the corner of your eye you almost miss, near the coffee table you sit in front of. No more than a glint of silver in the light.
The faintest sound of pouring, which would have been drowned out by the ambient music trickling from your laptop, if you had not become so suddenly focused on the source.
It’s pouring you more coffee.
You're careful to keep still - your head fixed in place as you glance surreptitiously towards the movement. The silver coffeepot you've been lugging around tilted just enough to let a stream into your near-empty cup.
There can't be many ghosts that would choose to help, instead of scare or harm. That wiggle of curiosity surges into something more - a need to understand.
So, you try. Carefully, and unmoving.
"Are you Alfred?"
The coffee sloshes against the rim of your mug, dripping down the side. Startled by your words, so certain he had slipped past you, in your reverie. The carafe still hovers aloft, as you slowly turn your head.
Thinking that he might bolt. Hoping that he wouldn't.
Your eyes meet open air, swooping over the space - although you don't know where to look.
"Bruce mentioned you.” You try, settling on the area that you guess might be eye-level, on a man. "He said you'd be around, that I-… well, he must have thought he was being funny."
Teeth bite into the edge of your tongue - your head shaking at the half-truth he had given you. An omission, but still leaving room to argue later that he hadn’t been lying.
Your attention focuses back, again.
"But you're real, right? That was you, in the hallway?"
The coffee pot lowers to the table, then. A clunk against the heavy wood, just as you twist fully around. Your hand darting out to keep him there, curling around something solid. A wrist?
There's a tension as if he's about to move but then, at your touch, - he goes still. He's warm and solid beneath your palm, excitement sparking in your belly. Your other hand rising, index finger extended as you gesture for him to wait.
"Please don't go. Just let me-" Your hand slips from him as you bend, looking for the bag propped against the wooden legs of the velvet settee. A second of rooting around before you find what you're looking for - a capped pen, and your spiral-bound notebook.
A page is torn from the end, and then ripped in half. You scribble down two words before flipping them around - setting them on the top of the table.
Yes and No rest there, scrawled in thick purple ink. A simplistic system by all means, and you're not even sure if he's still there or if he slipped away while you searched.
"You're Alfred, right?" You ask again, quietly - hopefully.
A fluttering in your heart at the idea of communicating. Unable to help the way you lean towards the words, as if willing them to move.
And after a long moment… they do.
The slightest flutter, a nudge to the word marked Yes.
A grin splits your face, hands clasped together, "It was you in the hallway? You this whole time?"
His answer comes more quickly now, another nudge. A sort of relief washes over you with that confirmation. No ghost lurking in these halls - just an unexpected and unusual sort-of roommate.
You had thought the solitude would suit you, but as the days pass, the interaction now feels welcome. Too many silent hours in such a big penthouse, left to your own devices for hours on end.
"And is that your collection of tea in the kitchen, or do they belong to Bruce?" The tease comes without thought, though you belatedly realize that it's not a binary question. A heavy pause hangs in the air, before there's the slightest tug at your fingers.
You let the pen go, as he pulls it from you. One of the torn pieces flips over, the writing that appears much smaller and neater than yours.
Mine.
He plays along, to your amusement. Enough so that you're not quite ready to let him go.
"Will you have a cup with me, then?"
The paper flips back over, before it's nudged back your way.
Yes.
He hadn't been sure what to make of you.
A prickle of irritation when Bruce had informed him - yes, informed - of the arrangement. Visitors had never bothered him in the past, he was always grateful for any opportunity that meant Bruce felt comfortable bringing someone into his home. That he was spending time in the company of another, and not stuck lingering on what could never be changed.
But that was before.
With Bruce gone, what was he to do? Pretend he doesn't exist, skirting around a stranger in the Tower? Unable to rest, too worried that you would disturb the sanctuary he's spent so long protecting?
"You know you can't go out." Bruce's eyes had been downcast, peering beneath the hood of his car. Alfred's own finger's streaked with grease, with his constant and silent aide.
Down beneath the guts of the Tower, in the Terminus. Another place to keep secret in his absence. A few years ago he would have considered caving it in while Bruce was away, but they've both come a long way since the days of the Riddler. Managing to meet somewhere in the middle, even as difficult as the journey was.
"She's doing us a favor."
He could go out, if Bruce needed. Yes, a floating parcel could be problematic - a car driven with no owner - but he could get around that. It would be far from the more difficult things he's had to do over the course of his lifetime.
But before he knew it - you was there, and Bruce was gone.
Alfred had never intended to interact with you. He had been all but a ghost for some time now, silent and invisible. It would have been too easy to keep to the shadows.
To avoid you completely.
But that wasn’t quite how things had turned out.
You were fascinating, in your novelty. Beautiful, though he tries not to dwell on that particular observation. Keeping a schedule much like Bruce’s - all odd hours and self-directed patterns - though you couldn’t be more opposite.
Alfred would never dare step into your room, or encroach upon a private moment. He did not seek you out. But if he was already up, and you wandered into the kitchen to make pasta in the middle of the night, then sometimes… he stayed.
Watching you move about the space. Resisting the long-engrained urge to nudge you out of the way, to cook for you himself.
Forcing himself to linger instead, listening to you hum along to music only you could hear. Opening all the cabinets each time, until you found what you were looking for. A coffee mug, the deepest bowl you could find.
He’d rearrange them later. Bring them to the shelf closest to you, so you didn’t have to search so hard.
That he could do, at least.
And when you had grown curious - wandering about the Tower, down the very hallway Bruce had told you to avoid - he had been unable to avoid you any longer.
It had been all too easy to catch you off guard. Ignoring the spark that jolted through him when his hand had wrapped around your elbow, swiftly guiding you back the way you came. Away from the entrance to Wayne Terminus.
The expression of shock on your face still makes him smile, though he took no pleasure in frightening you.
He still manages to do so, though. Your hand flattening across your chest, a muffled shriek when his fingers stretch out to carefully tap your arm, announcing his presence.
You were open like that - smiles and frowns and everything in between, worn so plainly and unfettered across your face. Another source of intrigue.
So different than what he was used to. Interpreting the minute frowns and sighs and ticks of Bruce’s jaw, as if he was in the circus again - solving a codex.
He thought he was starting to be able to read you. Annoyance and boredom and that laser-focused look you got when you were working - hours passing without notice.
And now, he watches as curiosity blooms.
Directed at him, no less.
It was an unusual feeling. No one he was used to - there were few secrets between himself and Bruce, especially over the recent years. A promise made that he would do better, even though he's still wracked at night with worry.
He's not a spectacle. You don't push - though surely, you must wonder. It's not as if he doesn't himself, even though he's long been resigned to the feeling of merely existing, instead of living.
And when he finds that your routines slowly start to include him - an extra mug of tea made, the paper set out where he usually spends the morning - that wish that he had been left alone slowly begins to slip.
Alfred finds himself thinking that perhaps, perhaps, these weeks won't be so bad, after all.
Or at least - not quite so boring.
In the days that follow, a semblance of a routine is formed.
His presence is announced by a touch on your shoulder - a soft tap, as not to scare you, like he had before. The questions you have about the manor, about him, answered with more of those touches.
One tap for no. Two quick ones for yes.
Or written on pen and paper like your first meeting, when you have it.
You take to carrying a pad around in your backpocket. A pen tucked behind you ear, as you grow more brave - emboldened by the fact that he does answer. That they are short and succinct, though you think, not unwelcome.
For if he had wanted to stay out of your sight, it would have been all too easy. If he stayed - sharing the space with you, steam rising from his teacup as the newspaper turned - then surely, it would mean that he did not mind.
Notes passed back and forth as you work - the heavy velvet curtains in the foyer pulled back to let the daylight in. Giving you a view of the Gotham skyline, how untouched it feels from so high up. Rows and rows of buildings, each climbing taller.
Have you always worked for the Waynes?
Your question is folded up, flicked across the table. A old trick from school, the triangular shape soaring to where the papers are sorted in neat stacks, the click of a calculator as sums are added and marked down in a ledger.
His answer comes in neat, uniform letters. Carefully written on the sheet below your looping scrawl.
Not always. I met Thomas after my days in the military.
Another small detail you hoard like a magpie, this new piece weaving its way into the shiny pile of treasures you've collected. It explained a little - the tidiness of the kitchen, the way he moved through the morning like clockwork.
So unlike your own schedule, tied to the whims of your creativity.
But you've been with them since?
Yes.
Have you always been their Butler?
It seems like a strange course to take after his years of service and you think he must see the way you frown, as you think it over. His pen hesitates, before he answers.
In a way.
His answers are as cryptic as Bruce's could be. You wonder which one had begun that way - who had learned from the other. The thought of the connection made you smile.
In these moments, you find you work well together. He’s a busy man - the ambient sounds of his fountain pen scratching over papers filling your afternoons. The notes shared a welcome reprieve, when the hunch of your shoulders and twist of your hips start to ache.
Trading pieces of each other across the hours. Favorite books. Foods that remind you of home, ones that are sometimes ordered and shared over the course of the next day.
Memories, carefully inked down - feeling like confessions.
Your eyes are bleary when you finally glance up from your laptop, the mid-morning light somehow slipping towards evening before you could blink. The room now eerily silent, and you wonder if he is still here. Or if he moved on without notice, as sometimes did.
“Alfred?”
You voice is quiet in the large room. It’s not like you need him for anything but you still can’t help but wonder where he is - not minding the moments where you share the room together.
Still getting used to the fact that he exists, and yet is always unseen.
He appears before the sound has faded, his name still hanging in the air. A brush at your shoulder, embarrassment heating your cheeks at the thought of being caught, sounding so needy.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here,” You admit, with a scrunch of your nose, “I wasn’t sure, I-”
Words cut off by the plate set down next to you. Dinner - the meal still warm, fresh from the kitchen. You’d worked through lunch, too caught up to notice the time. The ache that had formed in your belly as the time passed now making itself known.
It has you wondering if he had been on his way back, or whether he had heard your call. He seemed to have a habit of that - appearing just when you’re looking for him. As if he had an innate sixth sense for knowing when he was wanted.
“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do this, you know.” You protest, and your refilled coffee cup rattles as it’s set down next.
The movement almost indignant.
A quick jotting on the back of a printed article he’d been perusing, the ink still glossy when it’s rotated your way - the last word underlined for emphasis.
You are our guest.
It’s hard to hold back the smile, as you read. You wonder when it became “our” and not just Bruce’s guest - if the exact syntax held anything in it’s arrangement.
Would it be strange that you think you want to find a deeper meaning in his words? That assurance that he wasn’t inconvenience by your presence? That the hours spent together were more pleasure than mere obligation?
You push the thought away from now - unable to examine your inner feelings with the source of them being so near. Dipping into the food he brought, instead. It’s good - a twist on a quick meal you’ve made a few times since you arrived, but much more delicious.
The thought of him watching you unawares, sends a little jolt crackling low in your stomach.
But you realize - it’s not one of discomfort.
Something else to contemplate, later.
“Did you already eat?” You ask, between mouthfuls.
The answer comes with the movement of his pen, nudging the plate closer.
Over time, you’ve found he can tips towards bossy. Insistent. Amusement at the thought of him trying to keep Bruce in check - hiding your smile as you shut down your laptop in favor of concentrating on your food. Savoring it, a certain luxury found in a hearty meal that was not made with your own hands.
Something you’re not used to, something you certainly and wholeheartedly appreciate.
When your belly is full, you lean back against the cushions. Thinking about how often you find yourself here, in this cluster of alcoves off the large, open foyer. Leaving you wondering about the rest of the Tower, as a sip of coffee warms your belly.
“Do you have a favorite room?” You ask him, with a tilt of your head.
There is no written answer. It comes instead with the pushing back of his chair - a hand that rests on top of yours, squeezing twice as he coaxes you out of your chair.
Alfred guides you down halls you've explored before, though you were never brave enough to peek into any of the closed rooms. The thought of getting a look inside one of them thrills you, a hand gently touching between your shoulder blades to steer you towards a set of the doors at the end of the hall.
The closer of the two opens with his touch, the room brighter than you're expecting as you slip inside.
A beautiful study, the walls and built-in bookshelves stained a deep brown that tips towards gray. An antique wooden desk takes up the middle of the room - a closed laptop resting on top, next to piles of neat manila folders.
The heavy drapes that embrace the arched window behind are cracked open to let in the setting sun - and as you step into the room, they open wider.
The view is stunning.
Looking out across Gotham River instead of the streets of Midtown, clogged with buildings and the never-ending traffic. Framing the lazy rush of the water that had caused so much destruction in the years before, softened by the glitter and glint of the sun as it dips below the horizon.
Unmarred by man-made buildings and dark shadows.
"It's beautiful," You breathe - only just now noticing how close you've moved to the window, skirting around that old wooden desk, "I can see why you love it."
You can feel him next to you, at your shoulder. That sort of heavy presence that you've started to sense - nearly well-enough that you've gotten good at hazarding a guess where he stands.
Lingering just a little longer in the silence, watching the crash of the waters against the floodwalls. But your insatiable curiosity eventually piques at you, unable to help the twist of your head as you take in the surroundings.
Seeing more from this side of the room. The cracked door from off to the side, leading to a darkened bedroom in shades of charcoal and silver.
A buttery-soft leather chair tucked into the desk, where a sterling silver teapot sits on a folded newspaper. You've seen it before, in the kitchen, on the hexagonal table in the foyer.
"Is this your room? Your study?" You ask, piecing things together. Wondering how it took you so long to realize how it feels like him. The sort of him you’ve come to picture - tidy and proper.
Thick-bound books tucked neatly into the shelves that reach towards the ceiling, sculptures breaking up the space. The wooden floor covered in a thick rug, soft against your toes. A warmth brought to the space, in spite of all the sharp stone and dark wood.
Yes.
And then your eyes are snagging on the desk. Where two photos lie overlapping, unseen from the other side. Ones of people, their edges creased and well-worn with touch - two men flanking a women, a child in her arms. For a moment you almost think one of them is Bruce, with his sharp jawline and dark hair.
As you step closer, you realize it's not. You recognize the Waynes from the newspapers, both beautiful and elegant - their son a perfect mix of both of them. Next to them, standing close - just as much as part of the family, is another.
You don't know the man on the right. He is striking - broad-shouldered and dressed just as well. Dark hair that is carefully combed back, just starting to lighten at the temples. Eyes bright and blue, his smile framed with a neatly trimmed beard.
But maybe... you do.
"Is this you?" Your fingers reach out, nearly touching. Hovering, instead.
The second picture lifts, pressed into your hand. Just two, now. A small smile at Bruce, clad in a cap and gown, a golden stamp at the corner edge that notes Yale University. The tight-lipped smile of a young man, exasperated at the prospect of a photo.
The man - your Alfred - is here, too. Older, his hair more gray than black now. Still smiling, though the expression has faded, as he stands next to Bruce.
"You look..." The words trail off. Something lodging in your chest, stealing your breath.
Handsome. Happy. Just like I imagined you.
None are appropriate to say. Eyes quickly soaking up the photos, trying to picture him now. Not that much older, certainly less than a decade. Distinguished, the salt-and-pepper tones only complimenting his already attractive features.
Your thumb traces the edge of the photo as you find your voice, "Proud."
Yes.
It hits you then - the mystery of him. You head suddenly jerking in his direction, the frame setting back down on the desk as you turn, "You haven't always been like this?"
There's a wave of your hand, gesturing at his situation.
You hadn't known what to think. You lived in fiction and you lived in Gotham - the world twisting and turning dark in front of your own eyes. Countless ideas had flitted through your mind, a topic you had come back to frequently.
Whether he was born like this, never seen by human eyes. Truly a ghost, haunting the halls - unable to leave. Or even just a figment of your imagination - a dream that you haven't woken up from yet.
None of them had made sense. Not with what he had told you of his past. But the ideas had started to dry up, leaving you with no answers. Until now.
His hand squeezes your arm. No.
It sends your heart tumbling, as a drawer in his desk opens. Digging down deep, an article tucked beneath layers of folders, as if untouched for years. Worn and paper thin from where it had been clipped from the Gotham Gazette, carefully held out to you.
And as your eyes flick over the headline, you remember. The sorcerer who had sold his soul to the devil, wreaking havoc throughout the city. People had disappeared, plucked from the streets. Tricked by their own eyes by his illusions, in his quest for dominance over the city.
Your parents had called you - begging you to stay inside, to stay safe, until it was over. A shiver racing up your spine at their worry, how it still lingers in your memory.
Alfred must have been caught. One of the many affected by the spells. Cursed.
"This was years ago," Your voice was hushed, "You've been this way for that long?"
Yes.
The thought makes you ache.
"Can you fix this? Is there a way?"
You think surely there must be. There had been others, brought out of months of sleep. Turned back into their human forms, from the animal they had become. It has you clinging to a spark of hope that had long been extinguished in these halls.
A pen from his desk lifts, an answer slowly inked in the margins of the article.
I cannot not tell you.
And then two words, written below it.
Ask Bruce.
You text Bruce that night.
In the glow of your laptop - the scene you're working on left hanging, open-ended as you're unable to resist any longer. Late enough now for you that for him, it's morning.
I met your butler.
Your phone is still glowing when he answers. Barely a minute passing before the bubbles appear, just two words popping up.
Did you?
He never makes it easy - a sigh slipping from your lungs as you lean back into the plush chair, a knee pressing into the edge of the desk.
I did.
A second, as you wonder if you should dive in. If you should just ask what you want to know - if Bruce would entertain the thoughts and questions swirling in your mind.
You decide you should. That he's busy, and blunt. No reason you can't cut to the chase.
He said you could tell me about the curse.
Interesting. So you didn't just meet him. How long has it been?
That has you pausing, your thumb tapping a quick response.
What do you mean?
Alfred would never just tell that to anyone.
Even someone like you.
You scoff.
Meaning??
A pause hangs. Minutes passing, before an answer appears.
Meaning someone I trust enough to leave in my home.
His answer mollifies you. A friend, you think. Something he would never say. On anyone else you'd comment on the sentiment, but you think bringing attention to it would only push him further away.
We've been talking for a little while. Written notes, stuff like that.
The touching is innocent, but you feel protective of it. Like the brush of his hand is private. That aspect remains unmentioned, something just for you.
I'm impressed.
Your eyes roll with impatience. Impressed that you'd find a way to talk to him? Or impressed that you'd even noticed?
Thanks, I guess. Today he told me about the curse. Said I could ask you. Can I?
You haven't told me what he's told you.
You take a second then, to recollect. Typing slowly and then erasing, until you get your thoughts down.
He showed me the newspaper. I know about what happened, and when I asked if it could be fixed he said he couldn't tell me. That I could ask you.
You can.
I am???
Fuck - he's infuriating. Your jaw grits, as you flop sideways - twisting on your back. Hands held above your face as you type out your answer with a little more force than necessary.
I'm asking right now. Could you please tell me?
From what we've gathered, his curse will be lifted when he gets what he truly wants. Which might be impossible, considering.
This is something. A tangible goal, something you can really work towards. Your heart kicks up a notch, as you murmur the words while typing.
Considering what? What does he want?
That depends. Why do you want to lift it?
That has you pausing. Why do you? Is it because it's what any decent person would do?
Perhaps if it was the first day, that would be your answer.
But over the course of the evening and the time that had passed, it's become more.
It's hard not to think about how lonely Alfred must be. Half a lifetime spent with just the two of them. Now - left utterly unseen. Not even a ghost, but someone trapped as time still moves on without him. Forgotten.
And yes - lately, selfishly, you want to see him. Deep down, you’re realizing you want him to see you, too. Though it’s more than just that.
You need to break it.
To help him, because Alfred deserves it.
You can't tell Bruce this. It feels too new, too tender. Something still half-formed, even to your own mind.
So you send your own half-truth in reply.
Because it's the right thing to do.
Bruce’s response comes quickly.
If that is your answer, then you should give up now.
It leaves you frowning, a pit forming in your stomach.
Bruce.
???
What do you mean?
No other answers come, though it doesn't stop your eye from wandering the rest of the night. That urge to check for a more substantial answer. Frustration bubbling in your stomach, acid in your throat. Hurt and confused by his words.
Leaving your mind swirling - an irritation in the way your mind has now split. Words no longer flowing from your fingertips - your manuscript left frozen in place, as you try to puzzle out his meaning. Reading and rereading his messages.
That so-very human urge to help turning into something a more.
A desire.
Your jaw grits as you decide that don't need Bruce's help. You can do this yourself.
For Alfred.
thanks for reading! 💖
#alfred pennyworth x reader#alfred pennyworth x you#alfred pennyworth x f!reader#alfred pennyworth fan fic
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐣𝐚𝐡
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon, corruption, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You find a stranger at your door, a visitor you can't make leave. (Part of the Illuminate AU)
Characters: Yelena Belova
Note: I enjoyed this very much. I hope you do too.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
The bluster of winter wails outside the walls. The whistling wakes you, your eyes snapping open but the rest of you rousing slowly. Your muscles ache with the chill creeping up from the floorboards and through the aged plaster of the house. The smell of frost drifts in around the loose panes of the window, deterring you from emerging from the warmth of quilt and flannel.
At last, you find the strength to get up. You make the bed before you find your housecoat and tuck your feet into a pair of fleece-lined slippers. The house creaks around you as you open the door on whiny hinges. The single-floor holds several stories of memories; your own and others’.
You check the thermostat. It shouldn’t be so cold. You swear you can see your own breath. You shiver and rub your hands together as you enter the kitchen. You put the kettle on the burner and light it. You linger for a moment to bask in the warmth of the low flame of the gas stove.
You leave the kitchen, the click of the burner sticking in your head. You enter the back entryway of the house and pull open the old splintering door to the basement. The stares are steep and swathed in darkness, the wraiths of your childhood fears waiting at the bottom.
You flip on the light switch and take your first step down the groaning wooden stairs. Each foot down feels like a descent into hell. You get to the bottom, even colder as no warmth can be found in the cement floors or painted brick walls. The old dryer and washer loom, the only sentinels in the cobwebbed space.
In the corner stands the rusted old furnace. You near with trepidation, shaking as you see the fog of your own breath waft out from your nose. The meter is limp and lifeless. As you near, you realise the old utility is silent.
You’ve had this problem before, it’s nothing new, just like everything else in this house. You go to the cabinet above the washer and dryer and take out the box of matches, checking to make sure they haven’t been dampened by their time in the mildewed basement. You return to the furnace and get down on your knees, close to the back.
There you reach for the gas valve and give it a twist. You press down the red button and strike the match, putting it to the pilot light. You let go of the button and stand to turn the furnace back on. You hear the old barrel-like utility begin to hum.
You head back upstairs, the racket of the furnace building behind you, muffled as you shut the door behind you. As the handle clicks into place, you hear something closer, something louder. You pause and listen, hand resting on the cold metal knob. You fear it comes from where you just were but when it comes again, you realise the noise is from outside.
Before chasing your curiosity, you go back to the kitchen as you hear the kettle begin to quake. You move it off the burner before it can whistle and twist off the dial, the flame wilting to nothing. You shuffle into the back hall and near the back door, listening to the wind still whistling.
You hesitate to open the door, even as you’re certain it’s nothing. You look over at the old cross hung over the rack where you keep split logs for the fireplace. You slide back the lock and twist the handle, easing the swollen door from the frame.
As you pull the door inward, a weight pushes it against you. You step back and let it fall open completely, something collapsing by your feet. The shock blows over you with the winter gale, blustering in through the door. There, her head between your feet, is a woman smeared in dirt and something red.
Her blond hair is filthy with dry mud and a stick is caught in a tangle. There are scratches on her face and neck, her clothing barely in tack as it exposed her raw and bloodied skin. You stare, uncertain of what to do.
Any sane person would shove her back out in the cold and lock their door. But any decent person wouldn’t leave anyone out in that condition. You know her face, not as well as her reputation, but you do not doubt your eyes.
You look out over the expanse of snow littered across the backyard. A touch of yellowed grass peeks through still as the winter has not yet made its full advance. It feels desolate and frigid even as you spy the top of the next house just above your fence. You can’t help but wonder how she ended up back there.
You bend, unsure of how to approach the woman. You fear waking her as much as you worry she may not be able to wake. You slip your hands under her shoulders, turning her flat and hooking your arms under hers.
You haul her past the doorway, dragging her across the rough floorboards. You bend her legs as you go to close the door and stand facing it for just a moment as you process reality. You step back and over the woman, leaving her in the hallway as you try to decide what to do with her next.
It is just as Father Harvey read from the pages, ‘If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?’
You’re not sure you’ll be able to maneuver her further on your own, and you’re just as nervous of going near her again. The thought of a call to the cops crosses your mind but you know it’s futile when it comes to those ones.
You take the kettle off the stove and pull out a mug and some tea to steep. You ponder a second cup but it would probably be cold before she comes to. If she does.
You sit at the table, a glimpse of her dirty blonde hair visible through the doorway. You turn your attention to the window instead as you watch the snow start to fall. You could try to find her brothers or whoever they are. The other ones you don’t speak to.
As you contemplate your fate and the strange woman, you blow over your tea and take your first sip. A small comfort amid a very uncomfortable situation. You empty half the mug before setting it down, your stomach churning with anxiety.
You put your head in your hand and close your eyes. It could be a nightmare. You might wake up and find the house as you left it the night before. You cradle your forehead, keeping your other hand against the warmth of your mug. You hear the vents start, a gush of heat blowing in from under the table as the house thrums.
You hear the clatter of the furnace kicking up. You look up to the thermostat but something else catches your eyes. The figure standing off-kilter in the doorway, watching you as you gape back in shock. Realising it was not the furnace making so much noise, but her.
She doesn’t say a word, instead letting her lips slant and dragging a limp leg over to the stove. Without looking back, she opens a cupboard and takes down a cup of her own, perusing the other wares within. She shuts it with a snap and scoffs, pushing her head back as she rubs her neck.
“Do you have any damn coffee in this shit hole?” She sneers as she drops her hand.
You blink dumbly, put off by her demanding tone and the presumption of her search through your cupboards. As she opens another, you get up and near her, pulling over the canister of coffee against the wall. You hold it up but she doesn’t take it.
You glance over at her bloodied, broken nails. You’re too polite, honestly too afraid, to ask what’s happened to her. Whatever it was, it hardly seems to faze her.
You turn to load the coffee machine, the small single serve you rarely use yourself. Not since the woman across the street disappeared. She used to come now and again for coffee when her husband worked. You always prayed for her and her husband, he wasn’t a nice man.
You shut the lid and tap the brew button. Your mind wanders to the burnt foundation of the neighbour’s house. They found his body but not hers. You hope she was still out there, somewhere, alive. More than a month though and even your faith threatens to falter.
The machine’s grind quiets and you back up, startled by the woman’s reach as she drags the mug off the drip tray. You press yourself to the adjacent counter and look at her. You slide open a drawer and grab a teaspoon, offering it to her.
“I have sugar–”
“Black is fine,” her eyes flash at the silver utensil as she lifts the cup. Her greenish bluish irises carry a tint of yellow, “put that away.”
Her harsh snap surprises you. You put the spoon back and close the drawer. She staggers back, balancing the cup over her uneven gait. She puts her coffee down before dropping into a chair, barely keeping it from turning over under her.
“Close these fucking curtains,” she demands as he bends her head and shields her eyes, “the sun’s always a bitch after the moon.”
Her words don’t make much sense. You obey and pull shut the curtains above the sink, closing out the winter sun. There’s no reason she should be so affected, the sun is trapped behind a pillow of cold clouds.
“Good girl,” she praises and takes a loud slurp.
You spin to face her, crossing your arms as you watch her. Your hand wanders up to your throat but finds only the nook of your collar bone. You’ve left your necklace in your jewellery box. A habit you’ve rarely broken.
‘Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you.’
You remind yourself of the passage as wariness nips at your mind. You do not know this woman, you only know what is said of her. And as the Lord bids, one may not judge without first first accepting judgment themselves.
“What happened to you?” You finally muster the question from the maelstrom of fear and shock.
Her thick brows rise and she tilts her head. She sits sideways in the chair and leans back to look down at herself. As she takes in the shredded flannel hanging from her figure, she lifts her hand to touch the twigs caught in her hair. She laughs, greatly amused as she smothers it with a swig of coffee.
She pops her lips and wipes them with her filthy hand, “well, looks like I had a good night.”
She smiles, her teeth eerily long and white. The expression fills you with unease. You clasp your hands together over your stomach.
“Well, I could run you a bath and you could take some of my clothes. I have a bag I was going to donate at the church–”
“Oh, you are a good girl,” she winks, “you go to church?”
You nod, “every Sunday. It’s an open service.”
“Ha,” she guffaws, “I appreciate the invitation but it isn’t for me. I like the Catholic girls more than the Catholic rites.”
You slowly part from the edge of the counter. She is crass in a way that makes you uncomfortable, in the same way as the drunken men who come out of the old bar on Tilbury. She has no shame or it seems, sense. She is as unbothered by her torn flesh as she is by her similarly shorn clothing.
“I’ll get the tub going. The pipes will take time to heat up–”
“Ah ah,” she tuts as you turn on your heel, “what kind of good Christian does not offer a name?”
You face her again. You didn’t realise. You didn’t think to give it, somehow, it felt like giving more than just that. As if you were handing over something precious. But she is here in your home and the Lord treasures gracious hosts. So you say your name, feeling it leave your tongue like a vow.
“Beautiful,” she praises, “I am Yelena, or whatever you like me to be.”
You have nothing to say to her last remark. You leave her to your coffee and forget about your tea. You’re certain it’s already cold as ice. You head down the hallway and let yourself into the bathroom. You turn on the light as you enter and cross the small patchwork of tile to the tub.
You pull back the curtain and bend over the brim to twist the four-pronged faucets. The water spills out and you splash it up the porcelain to rinse it off, turning off the flow to let it drain before starting it again. You put the stopper in place and push yourself straight.
You take a deep breath as you leave the building humidity in the bathroom and stop short as you find the woman, Yelena, just outside. She smirks at the cross stitch in its round frame, reaching to touch the embroidery; Rejoice in the Lord, the threaded cursive reads with the wreath of flowers.
“Quaint,” she muses as her eyes list over in your direction, “your husband must love you. Blessed be the meek and all that.”
You shake your head and look down at your left hand. If your mother was still around, she’d be certain to loudly proclaim your lack of suitors. The woman hums, taking the hint. She surprises you as she claps her hand on your arm.
“Who needs em? Men,” she scoffs, “trust me, they are…” she pauses, considering her next words carefully, “useless.”
She releases you and you step aside, pointing her into the bathroom. She enters, limping still. You notice how her foot drags, her leg entirely limp. You step forward, lingering at the threshold.
“The towel is clean,” you instruct, “and the hot water will probably run out by the halfway mark–” you voice catches as she strips away the remnants of her shirt. Shamelessly, she pulls down the strap of her bra, the other one snapped, and bares her chest, “oh, but uh, I’ll leave you–”
She snickers, “I am not ashamed of how the Lord made me, feel free to admire his work.”
You gasp and latch onto the doorknob. You swallow and quickly swing the door shut, clinging to it as you blink at the peeling paint. You look down at your hand, feeling as though you can’t let go. You see her body still, her pert tits and knowing smile stir your stomach cloyingly. A sinful sensation that tingles down your spine.
You snatch your hand back and nearly stumble into the wall. You must pray and cleanse yourself of these feelings. Let the Lord forgive you.
🌔
You dig out a pair of jeans and a wool sweater from the box, adding a pair of socks and underwear to the stack before scooping it up. You hug the clothing as you head down the hall, listening to the stir of water through the door.
You clear your throat and place the pile on the square table set against the wall. You lean in, voice catching as you try to make the words come out. You feel as if you’re being choked.
“There are clothes out here for you,” you call through at last.
“Mm,” you can hear her sultry hum, “thank you, sweet one.”
You back away, retracting as if scalded. You shudder and continue on to the kitchen. You take the mugs from the table and go to the sink to wash them. The house is still cold though the furnace has softened the nip in the air.
You dry off both cups and put them back in the cupboard. You empty out the filter in the coffee machine and push the canister of grinds back against the wall. Restlessly, you pace, contemplating what comes next. It is unkind to ask a guest to leave but you must. There’s something festering about this woman being in your home.
You should’ve left her in the cold. The thought brings you to a halt and you’re mortified by your own cruelty. You shake your head and trace a cross through the air with your fingers; forgive me, lord.
You go into the living room and sit on the couch, teetering on the edge as you lean forward, elbows on your knees and hands clamped together. You press your lips to your knuckles and close your eyes.
A silty fatigue grits under your eyelids. You are suddenly very tired. You’re still hoping this is just a dream.
“Ah, there you are,” Yelena’s voice brings your head up, your head swelling dizzily.
You look over your shoulder as she struts across the room. She wears only the wool sweater, her legs naked as the hem hovers tenuously just below her pelvis. You gulp as you watch her, stunned by her speedy and complete recovery.
The cuts across her neck and face are gone, her legs show no blemish or scar, and she walks unimpeded. Her blond hair is damp but shiny, and her cheeks are rosy and full. You’ve never seen anyone look so enthralling.
“I feel much better, darling,” she declares as she combs her fingers through her hair, the sweater rising up her thighs, “oh, but you look less than… what is the matter, sweet one?”
“N-nothing,” you go to stand but she’s quick to meet you, blocking you as she stands before you, putting a hand out to keep you at bay, “I…” you gulp, your mouth dry and pasty, “I was going to make breakfast. Are you hungry?”
She looks down at you and turns her hand to cradle your chin, “I am ravenous.”
You stare up at her, hypnotised by the heat of her touch and the yellow flecks seeming to glow in her irises. She slips her hand down to your neck and leans her weight into you, urging you to sit back. You let her, trembling as your body surrenders against your will.
She brings herself down to her knees, moving to insert herself between hers. Her hand crawls down and she hisses as she clutches the silver cross hung around your neck. He yanks and snaps the chain, bringing a yelp from your lips. She flings it away and shows how the pendant left its shape burnt into her palm. You gape as her skin slowly fades back to normal.
“What…” you breathe.
“Shhh,” she presses her finger to your lips, “I will not hurt you. The moon has gone and my hunger has changed.”
Your eyes round as you squirm. Lord, give me strength.
Her hand falls again and she gropes you through the cotton of your sweatshirt. You murmur as she squeezes and you feel it pluck deep down inside of you. You look down at her hand as she fondles you, her other creeping up to raise the bottom of your shirt.
Your mind screams for you to stop her. You know you should, you know what she’s doing is wrong, but you can’t. It’s as if your body is no longer your own. As if she’s possessed you with her touch alone.
She rolls your shirt above your chest, peeling down the cubs of your wireless bra as she leans forward. A glaze of shock paralyses you as you watch her press her lips to the curve of your tit. He kisses the flesh, teasing it with her tongue, then her teeth, nipping so you squeak.
“Delicious,” she purrs, as her thumb twirls around your hardened nipple.
Your hands ball against the cushion, the most you can muster as your muscles lock up. She keeps one hand on your chest as she trails down your stomach with her mouth. She dotes on your soft belly, her other hand edging around as she guides your hips forward. Her fingers curl around the top of your pants.
Her other hand brushes around your ribs and down your back. She grips the elastic of your pants, guiding them down, tugging them under your ass as she jolts your body. You groan as she pulls both underwear and pants down your thighs in a single swoop.
A crack forms in your trance and you bring your hands together to shield your nakedness. You hid your cunt behind as she strips the fabric past your ankles. She tuts and lays a kiss along your calf. She makes a path up to your knee, then switches legs, kissing along your quivering thigh.
“Don’t be shy,” she growls, “the lord gives us all a purpose. He would not make anything so beautiful if he did not mean it to be admired.”
She leans back and reaches behind her hand. She tugs the sweater up over her head, disposing it on the floor as she presents herself to you. Naked and built like a statue, muscle hewn perfectly.
She pulls your hands away from your pelvis and leers between your legs. She pushes your hands down beside you and drags her own down your thighs. She lifts your legs, one at a time, opening you to her.
She bends as you shake, detached from your mortal shell as he bows her head over your lap. She reaches up grazing over your chest and to your neck. She stretches her hand across your throat and holds you in place as she pokes her cool tongue against your slick heat.
You’re just as surprised at the mingling of hot and cold as you are by your own arousal. She laps you up eagerly as your body responds, falling apart in an instant. You moan through your tight throat, wrapping your fingers around her wrist as you drop your head back. Your voice gristles out as you tilt your hips in welcome.
The scald of your repentance fades into that of your delight. Her tongue delves between your folds, dissembling you with each slow swipe, each swirl around your tender bud. Her fingertips tickle along your thigh, edging the crease of your pelvis and dipping down to your entrance. She prods, wiggling just inside as she eases into you little by little.
You gasp and gulp, rocking your hips in time with her. You can hear how much you want her, you can feel it flooding from you, dripping down her hand and spreading on her tongue. She buries her face against you as she devours you, urging you on as she builds her pace, jamming her fingers deeper and deeper.
You reach down without thinking and latch onto her head. You push her down, smothering her face in your cunt as you rut against her face. You feel the swell crest and your body quakes as the tension shatters and sweeps over you. Your orgasm gushes out around her fingers as your voice fizzles to a creaky whine.
She feels along your hand, carefully drawing it away as she raises her head. Her chin drips with your juices as she snickers, baring her wolfish teeth. Her eyes glimmer as she slips her fingers out of you. You squirm with the sudden emptiness.
She grabs the backs of your calves suddenly and stands, pulling you so you slip down, your shoulders on the cushion. She grips the front of your bunched shirt and hauls you onto the floor, bringing you to your knees. She lifts her leg over your shoulder, planting her foot on the couch behind you.
She pushes your face into her pelvis and you open your mouth. You taste her, tilting your head back as she stains your tongue with her desire. Your eyes roll back as she holds you there, her hips rolling as she grips a fistful of your hair.
“Kneel in worship of me, sweet one,” she cradles the back of your head as she brings you closer, “leave your false god behind.”
All doubt, all dread, dwindles away as you’re swallowed by the heat of temptation. The strength of your spirit succumbs to the weakness of your flesh. Forgive me, lord, oh please, forgive me for how sweet it is.
#yelena belova#dark yelena belova#dark!yelena belova#yelena belova x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#illuminate#au#werewolf au#avengers#mcu#marvel#black widow
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: Unconditional Daydreams.
Pairing: Yandere!Incubus!Kaeya x F. Reader [+Diluc] (Genshin)
Word Count: 1.6k.
TW: Modern AU, Non/Con, Oral Sex, Distorted Reality, Implied Memory Tampering, and Slight Marking.
“Are you absolutely sure you should be working tonight?”
You glared in Diluc’s direction, to where he was standing behind the bar counter, idly cleaning pint glasses while you wiped off tables on the main floor. You knew he meant well - that as the owner, it was his responsibility to make sure his bartenders wouldn’t pass out while serving customers – but you were getting tired of the questions, of the unwanted comments on the bags under your eyes and the lack of color in your face. You looked like shit. You knew. But, you couldn’t afford to miss another shift just because you looked like a walking corpse, even if you were starting to feel like one, too.
“It’s fine,” You muttered, and then again, with more force, more reassuringly. “I’m fine. I’ve just been having weird dreams, lately. It’s been keeping me up.”
Diluc hummed, his usual scowl twitching up into a slightly softer, slightly less hostile frown. His tone was steady, dulled, but honestly, you were just surprised that he was bothering to indulge you at all. “Are you going to share with the class, or will I just have to let my curiosity eat me alive?”
You started to shake your head, to brush him off, but stopped yourself, laughing airily. You still had an hour before you opened for the night, and if telling him about your stupid, inane dreams would help to pass the time, you didn’t really have an excuse not to.
Still, you hesitated to start, letting your head lull to the side and your rag slip out of your hand. At least talking would help stave off the exhaustion. “It always starts with this guy, I think his name is— Kaeya— Kaeya—”
His name caught in your throat, and your hands shot downward, your fingers soon tangled in his hair as you made a half-hearted attempt to pull him away. He didn’t budge, obviously, only letting out a rough groan as he lapped over your entrance, tracing aimless patterns into your slit with his tongue before drifting, lapping over your clit until he drew out a sharp, cracked whine, audible evidence of your over-sensitivity. Even then, he only drew back far enough to latch onto the inside of your thigh, sucking harsh bruises into vulnerable skin while you pouted, carding your fingers through his hair. “Go on,” He encouraged, after giving you a moment to catch your breath. “You were telling me about the nightmares you've been having, right?”
You huffed, collapsing into the cushions of your loveseat. He hadn’t wasted any time today, forgoing his usual flirting and pet-names in favor of pushing you onto the nearest sofa and pulling your skirt up to your waist, burying his face in your cunt before he could so much as pretend he’d come over for anything else. You didn’t really mind. That was how it always ended up when the two of you saw each other – with Kaeya on his knees and you, too delirious to do anything but call out his name. “They’re not really nightmares,” You mumbled, your voice nearly too quiet to be audible. Kaeya made a throaty, reverberating sound of acknowledgment, and you went on, watching blearily as he peppered love-bites along your thighs. “Most of them are pretty normal, and you’re always there. I think I know you, most of the time, but it’s always a little blurry, and I can’t really tell if you’re supposed to be my neighbor, or my husband, or just a stranger I don’t—”
“Oh, so it is a nightmare,” He cut in, warm breath fanning over the back of your neck. His arms snaked around your waist, dragging you against his chest, and you laughed, playfully jabbing your elbow into his stomach. He’d cornered you in the kitchen, demanding his hourly dose of attention while you were trying to get something out of one of the higher cabinets. You could still hear the movie you’d been watching playing in the other room, and he could’ve just waited until you got back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. You… well, you just couldn’t, with Kaeya. “I mean, a world where your handsome, charming, doting, handsome boyfriend is little more than a stranger to you? That sounds like a nightmare to me.”
“A few hours without your awe-inspiring modesty? I’m not sure how I managed to survive.” You felt his lips brush against the edge of your jaw, then the column of your throat, nipping gently when he reached your jugular. “It really isn't that bad. We’re usually just hanging out, or I’m meeting you for the first time, and we’re…”
You trailed off, but he didn't seem bothered, his grin pressing into the crook of your neck. He was grinding against your ass, now, because of course he was, the insatiable bastard. “We’re what, sweetheart?”
You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “We’re fucking, sometimes. That’s not the important part. It’s what comes next. After a while, everything just starts to—"
A hand slipped under your shirt, and you felt your smile waver, something in the back of your mind clicking out of place – like a bone pulled out of its socket, some electrical circuit disconnected from its system. You’d done this before, but you hadn’t. He was Kaeya, but…
But, you didn’t know a Kaeya, did you?
Silk sheets pressed into your back, cool and mild compared to the pure warmth radiating above you. There was something tangled around your arms – braided rope, soft to the touch but strong enough to keep your arms pinned above your head as he thrust into you, fucking into your cunt with no sense of concern or restraint. Your nerves felt like they were on fire, everything a little too hot, a little too intense, a little too hazy when you made any attempt to focus, to do anything but lie back and feel what was happening to you.
In an effort to block it out, to make the heat washing over you just a little more bearable, you tried to shut your eyes, to bite into the side of your tongue, but a hand rose up to cup your cheek, to work a thumb into the corner of your lips and pry your teeth apart, until your mouth hung open and you were stripped of any way to swallow back your little, whimpered moans. It didn’t hurt, but it was sadistic. You couldn’t feel much of anything, but all of it was agonizing, inhumane.
You’d never been here before, but it was all so, so familiar.
You could see him, above you, his smile broad and relaxed, one of his eyes visible and the other hidden behind a mess of dark hair. His movement slowed, but didn’t still, growing just lax enough to allow him to laugh, to lean down until his chest pressed into yours and his hair formed a curtain around you – caging you against him, refusing to let the rest of the world in. He was still holding your mouth open, but if he was deterred by your objection, your panic, it wasn’t enough to keep him away from you, to stop his lips from crashing into yours. You tried to pull away, and when that failed, to bite down, but you couldn’t move, and your mind went blank, and—
You woke up with a start, clawing at the bar’s tile floor as you bolted upward. You were on the ground, breathing heavily, and Diluc was at your side, a hand raised like he’d been moving to touch you. The renewed exhaustion hit you first, like something very heavy and very blunt to the back of your head, then the soreness, the aching in your limbs and the throbbing behind your eyes, tired muscles taunted with a moment of rest. Still, you did what you could to brush it off, to smile apologetically as you rubbed the back of your neck. “I’m… I’m sorry about that, it’s never happened before. How long was I out?”
“About thirty seconds.” Dry, flat, with only a hint of concern lacing his tone. He looked shaken, if anything, his eyes a little too wide, his own breathing as heavy as yours, and a tight knot of guilt formed in the back of your throat, only growing more difficult to swallow down as he went on, clearly taking pains to maintain his composure. “Get your things. I’m taking you home.”
“No, it’s alright, I’m—” You tried to get up, but your knees gave out as soon as you tried to put your weight on them, leaving you to stumble forward and brace yourself on a nearby table. He followed you, pushing himself to his feet, moving to take your arm before you brushed him off. “I promise, I’m fine, I just need to—”
“You need to get some rest. I’m not letting you drive, either, not like this.” You opened your mouth, squaring your shoulders, but stopped yourself, bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to nod. You took a tentative step, moving towards the breakroom, but Diluc stopped you, a hand landing on your shoulder. “By the way,” He started, his voice low, razor-edged. “Do you know anyone named Kaeya?”
You thought for a moment, then shook your head. “I don’t think so. I mean... should I?”
He seemed to hesitate, but ultimately let you go. “Just get your things. I’ll be waiting here.”
You didn’t try to argue at all, this time. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to stay here, to push yourself any farther.
Honestly, you just wanted to sleep.
~
Diluc waited until you’d left the main floor, until he couldn’t hear your footsteps or see you moving behind the door’s circular glass plane. Once you were out of earshot, he let out an airy sigh, fishing his phone out of his pocket and dialing a familiar number, a number he swore he’d never have to call again.
“Kaeya?” He said, as soon as the ringing stopped. And then, without waiting for an answer, “We have to talk.”
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere prompts#yandere oneshot#yandere genshin x reader#genshin imagines#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact#genshin x you#genshin x reader#yandere genshin imagines#kaeya x reader#yandere kaeya#yandere kaeya x reader#yandere kaeya alberich#yanderecore#yancore
788 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Seventeen
Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.
A reverse harem, biker AU.
Part Seventeen Summary: Lori finds out more about Jake. Walker finds out about the pact.
Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC
Word Count: Approx. 3.4k
Warnings:
Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.
Part Seventeen Warnings: slight angst, violence, mentions of blood, implied smut
Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .
This chapter is from both Lori and Walker's POVs. I know it's a bit different to how I've been structuring the story, but I felt like it needed to be done this way.
There's more exposition here, but I think that will be all for a while.
Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.
Masterlist
Parts Masterlist
Part Sixteen Part Eighteen (coming soon)
Lori
“Are you sure you don’t want breakfast first?” Marshall asked as we approached the open door to Walker’s office.
I shook my head. “Let’s get this over with.”
He gave me a brief approving smile before cupping the back of my head and kissing me on the crown.
“Let’s go,” he said.
I took a deep breath to steel myself for what I was about to face and I walked into Walker’s office.
The space was simple enough, basically furnished with a dark, almost black, modern looking desk with a laptop and a number of open files and papers making a mess of the otherwise clean room. There was a matching filing cabinet and a bookshelf, a low modern black leather sofa and four simple chairs pushed against one of the grey walls and the floor was carpeted in a similarly grey rug. The only feature that appeared decorative was an abstract art piece that ran nearly the entire length of the wall.
It immediately caught my eye; it was impossible to ignore. The work was lit by museum style lighting and spread over two canvases. It was mostly white with sometimes wispy, sometimes harsh, feathery slashes of black, grey and brown paint. While there was an obvious darkness to the piece, there was something heartachingly optimistic about it. For some reason I was reminded of being a kid, blowing hard on a dandelion and watching with glee as the pappus floated away on the wind carrying with them the potential for adventure and a new life.
Walker cleared his throat. I glanced at him quickly, he was taking his seat behind the desk and Marshall was carrying over two chairs. I turned back to the painting and tried to reconcile the art with its owner, but couldn’t for the life of me see the connection.
What would a piece like this mean to a man like Walker? If it was simply melancholic and evoked feelings of fear and dread, I could see the attraction for him. However, the undeniable sense of potential hope and happiness born from the darkness had my curiosity piqued. Why would he not only buy it, but give the piece a place of honour, something that no other object in this room seemed to have? It couldn’t have been cheap, the artist was no doubt talented and experienced; it must have cost a fortune.
“Oh,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes. “Of course.”
It was an investment and a way to hide his true net worth from authorities. Granted, it was a high brow, convoluted way of laundering money, but it wasn’t unheard of, especially for international criminal syndicates. It was the only explanation that seemed plausible.
Taking one last look at the painting, I sat down next to Marshall. He pulled out his notebook while Walker selected one of the files scattered over his desk and opened it. He selected a page and showed it to me.
It was a grainy and dark photograph of the interior of a nightclub and appeared to have been lifted from security footage. A number of people were in the shot, mostly holding drinks and standing in groups of twos or threes. At first I didn’t grasp the significance of the picture, then I gasped as I recognised the couple in the middle of the frame.
“Jake,” I whispered.
“Jacob Owen Wright,” Walker corrected.
Barely able to tear my eyes from the photograph, I looked at the two men, “How did you find him? Just from this picture?”
Marshall looked a little sheepish and glanced at Walker who showed no embarrassment. “I had some associates sweep your apartment for fingerprints and DNA.”
“What?” I asked, my voice hard with anger. “You had no right to do that without asking.”
Walker took out another couple of pages and showed me pictures of what I recognised to be Jake’s apartment only by the kitchen cabinets because the rest of the apartment was completely bare.
“We didn’t have a lot of options. The whole place was scrubbed. Not a single piece of usable evidence was found to start an identification. Your apartment was the only other place we knew for sure that he’d been.”
“You could have asked,” I said, only partly paying attention to what I was saying.
My mind was in a whirl and I found it difficult to pin down any single thought. It was clear that Jake had lied to me about who he was and what his interest in forming a relationship with me was, but this along with the tracking device suggested that a bigger conspiracy was at play.
“So, you found something in my apartment?”
“Not a lot, but enough for an ID. A thumbprint was found on the top edge of the headboard of your bed and further examination found the rest of the prints on the back as if it had been grasped and used for purchase,” Walker informed me blankly.
My cheeks heated as I realised how those prints got there. I remembered when it had happened and remembered looking at the athletic cords of his arm muscles stretching and contracting as he used the bed as an anchor to go harder and deeper. I felt like such a fool. In the back of my mind I must have known there was something off about him, which was probably why I never want the relationship to make the transition from casual fuck buddies to something more serious. I don’t know why I ignored that feeling and let myself be drawn in by a man who had nothing to offer but lies and deception just because he had the veneer of civility. Looking up at Marshall, it struck me that while the Brothers appeared to be lawless and crude, they treated me better than any man I had known other than my father, Nate, and Hustle.
“Prints on file mean a criminal record right?” I asked.
Again the two men exchanged glances and again Walker spoke, “Not necessarily. But in this case, yes. One offence in New Mexico as a youth. While he was born in your home town, it appears as though he moved around a lot. His mother, born Louise Anne Huxley, married several times, however Jacob’s birth certificate lists no father and we haven’t been able to find one. Louise changed her name several times, with each marriage and on a few occasions without a marriage. Jacob’s birth name was Jacob Flynt, but he has also been known as Turner, Johnson and now, Wright.”
I peered at the photo of me and Jake again. He never even mentioned that he had been born in my hometown, only saying he had moved there a few months before we met; he hadn’t even said moved back. He hadn’t been open about himself like Marshall or Sy, or even Mike and I never would have asked him to be. I’d known the Brothers less than a week and I knew more about each of them than I did about Jake. Well, except for Walker.
“Anything else?”
Walker shook his head. “We have more leads to run down, I’ll let you know if we find anything more significant.”
“You’ve had some time to think,” Marshall said, “have you thought of anything else, anything at all that could help with the investigation?”
“No. Nothing I haven’t already told you.” My eyes were drawn back to the canvas. “Have you told my brother? Does he know anything about this?”
“I spoke to Hustle—” Walker started.
“I asked about Nate,” I brought my attention back to Walker whose jaw muscles quivered beneath his stubbled cheek. “Have you spoken to him?”
“No.”
I nodded and swallowed down my fear. Nate must be alright; Hustle would have said if he wasn’t and despite everything, I’m sure Walker would tell me if something had happened to him.
“Is that all? Can I go now?” I asked.
Walker gave me a curt dip of his head, so slight it couldn’t be called a nod.
I stood and turned swiftly on my heels as I headed for the door.
Walker
Marshall gave me a flat, unimpressed stare as he followed Lori out of my office.
“Jesus,” I muttered as I placed the papers and photographs back in the manilla folder. What the hell did I do this time to get her so riled up?
Sighing, I tapped the file on the desk and glanced up to see Marshall lifting Lori’s chin with a crooked finger in a way that suggested a familiarity that was far too inappropriate for my liking. It was a good thing Sy wasn’t here to witness it; no doubt he’d go completely apeshit. A kiss on the cheek was one thing, even Mike’s game yesterday was basically harmless, but the way Marshall was looking at Lori was absolutely not benign.
I was sure Marshall would pull away before they actually kissed. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to kiss her; the girl was far too attractive for her appeal to be ignored. She was artlessly beautiful and she had a spark of fiery willfulness that always made my cock ache when I imagined seducing her into submission. But this wasn’t about Lori, I didn’t give two shits if Lori stepped out on Sy, it was about Marshall. Marshall wouldn’t betray Sy, he wouldn’t betray a Brother. Surely he wasn’t going to—
“Holy Shit!”
He did it, he actually kissed her.
My blood ran like napalm through my veins, my sight going red as I lept my desk and letting the uncontrolled rage rush through my system along with the burst of adrenaline, I let it all out in one furious punch squarely in the middle of Marshall's face.
A scream and a warm spray of blood slapped me across the face, quickly sobering me.
Oh fuck, what have I done?
Marshall held his nose, no doubt busted and Lori was pushing me out of the way as she tried to get Marshall to lower his hands so she could see the damage. Marshall wasn’t having it, stepping around her as he confronted me.
“You deserve that, you know you do,” I said, coolly.
“And why the fuck would I?” Marshall said, blood pooled in his mouth which sprayed out as he spoke.
“You think Sy would have gone easier on you? Should I have just let him deal with this?”
“And why the fuck would you care what Sy would do?”
“I’m not going to let a woman break this club up, I don’t care who the fuck she is.”
“It’s not what you think Walker,” Lori had the hide to say. I turned on Lori, her face was pale with fear, but she held her chin up as if daring me to hit her too. Fuck, she was killing me.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about Walker,” Marshall added.
“What else could I think? You’re kissing his fucking woman. You think he’s going to shrug and get over it? You’ve put the whole club in jeopardy and—”
“Walker!” Geralt entered my office, planting himself firmly between Marshall and me.
“He was kissing Lori,” I said. Jesus, I sounded like a kid trying to obfuscate responsibility after being busted by their dad. I may as well have pointed at Marshall and cried, he started it.
Geralt didn’t react. Not even a tiny twitch of his eye.
“You knew? You knew and you didn’t think to stop it before he came back? He’s going to fucking kill him.”
Geralt sighed and looked at the grey carpet now decorated with a blood splatter that Dexter Morgan would have been proud of.
“Lori, take him to the kitchen and put some ice on his nose.”
Lori gave me a look of disgust that made my guts twist. Fear, I could deal with; disgust was something else entirely. Marshall still had his eyes trained on me, his eyes darkened with murderous ambition. I readied myself for him to attack, but Lori took his hand, with a gentle tug and he let himself be led away.
I turned my attention back to Geralt as Marshall and Lori disappeared into the hallway.
“You’ve got some explaining to do,” I said to Geralt, turning back to my desk and sitting in my chair.
Stunned, I sat slack jawed as Geralt explained the situation - the pact the others had made - although it sounded too far fetched to be true. But it made a lot of things fall into place and explained what the others had been whispering amongst themselves over the past few days.
How could I have missed this? How could I not have known what was going on. Jesus, what else was going on in the club that I didn’t know about?
“What happens when the job is over?” I asked when he finished talking.
“Same rules as before, she decides what she wants,” Geralt replied.
“What if she wants to go home? Would you go with her?”
Geralt shrugged.
“Jesus. You’d let the club fall because of the whims of some girl?”
Geralt raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
“When were you going to tell me? When you were all packed up ready to leave and I’d be stuck here holding my dick,” I seethed through gritted teeth. “I’d expect something like this from Sy, he’s always been a little soft when it comes to women. Or Mike even, he’s a fucking kid. But Marshall? You? No. I thought you knew what we were doing here, what we were working for.”
“I don’t think she will want to leave when this is over, I think she’s found her place here.”
“This is no place for a woman.”
“She knows what she's getting into. She’s not naive.”
Geralt’s nonchalance about this whole situation was doing my head in. There was so much that could go wrong here. We could lose it all because my Brothers couldn’t think with anything but their dicks.
“You don't have to be on the outside looking in,” Geralt said with a sly smirk. “She likes you too, you know.”
I laughed, curling my lip and showing Geralt my teeth. “I saw the look on her face, she’s terrified of me.”
“Not of you, of what you represent.”
“I don't share my toys," I sneered.
Geralt nodded slowly. “It’s your call,” he stood, “I'll go check on Marshall.”
“Tell him…” I ground my teeth, what the fuck do I say?
Geralt paused and waited.
“Nothing.”
I glanced at the painting on my wall. The darkness loomed larger than usual and I turned away again quickly, not daring to hope for some light.
Over the next few days the divide between my Brothers and I widened while the others seemed to draw together as they closed in on Lori. Normally there was a schedule set up for guarding a client, even inside the clubhouse, but Lori didn’t need one; she was never alone. She went from Marshall, to Geralt, to Mike, back to Marshall. I didn’t bother offering to take even an hour of guard duty. I wasn’t asked to anyway.
I dared not ask which of my Brothers she was fucking. Marshall obviously, but had Mike and Geralt gone there too? It didn’t look like it, but I couldn’t be sure. I should have nipped the situation in the bud that first night when I found Sy in bed with her.
Dinners alternated between awkward affairs and actually entertaining. Mike in particular was lively, filling dull moments with jokes and conversation. But usually towards the end of the meal Marshall would look at Lori, and the air in the room became electrified as if statically charged. I would leave the room as soon as possible.
One evening after dinner, I walked into the common room and the four of them were there. Perched on Geralt's knee, it appeared she was playing a card game against Mike and Marshall, a small stack of chips were in front of each of them. Her brows were drawn low in concentration as Geralt whispered in her ear and pointed at her hand.
They all looked up simultaneously. Mike and Marshall dropped their heads back to their cards, Marshall still hadn’t forgiven me for the punch and barely spoke to me during meals. His bruising had faded to a few dark circles under his eyes and he had a small cut on the bridge of his nose. Geralt nodded in greeting but didn’t say anything.
Lori watched me move around the bar until Mike pulled her attention back to the game.
“It’s your turn Babycakes.”
She peeked over her shoulder at Geralt and pointed at a card. He nodded and grinned. Lori dropped the cards onto the table with a smirk and Mike groaned while Marshall dropped his hand with a disgruntled sigh.
“I won?” Lori asked, grining.
“G won,” Mike grumbled under his breath while Marshall nodded.
She raised her hands into fists above her head and bounced excitedly on Geralt’s knee. I turned my attention to pouring my drink, slamming the glass down angrily on the counter.
“Should we play again?” I heard her ask.
“I’ll deal,” Mike said.
“Walker, do you want in?” Lori asked.
I paused, the bottle of whiskey poised just about to pour.
“On the game,” she added.
Mike snickered.
I started to pour myself a generous amount before raising my head. All four of them were looking expectantly at me. I raised my glass to my lips and had a sip, relishing the sweet burn as it passed my throat and settled in my belly.
“No thanks,” I said, already walking across the room, “some people have to work around here.”
I went back to my office. I didn’t have any work to do, not really. All the leads we had in the investigation into Jake were being handled externally by various contacts who worked for us on occasion and I had decided not to take any more jobs until this one was over. We’d had requests and offers, but after investigating Jake and relaying the information to Hustle, I had a nagging feeling something wasn’t adding up. I think we were going to need everyone on this and Sy’s experience in particular was needed.
I lit a cigar and went to the sofa on the wall. I stared at the painting on the wall as I smoked, and drank, waiting patiently for the heavy buzz that would let me sleep.
I was getting close when the gate alarm went off. I went back to my desk and checked the camera feed and saw Sy rolling the large wire gate shut before riding off to the garage. I sat in the chair and waited.
It wasn’t long before he appeared, bag slung over one shoulder, helmet tucked under his arm.
“Walker,” he said.
“How did it go?”
He placed his helmet carefully on the desk, shrugged then sat. “It was straightforward. No problems. Need a report?”
I shook my head, “Not unless there’s something we should be aware of in future.”
He grimaced, “One or two things, but nothing urgent. I’ll get it to you in a few days.”
“Fine.”
I expected him to leave but he stayed sitting in the chair. After a few moments he spoke. “How is she?”
“Alive,” I said.
He nodded. Quiet again, he looked all around my office at everything except me then spoke again. “Where is she?”
“I last saw her in the common room with the others. If they aren’t there, then I expect she’s with Marshall,” I paused, trying to figure out what the fuck he was thinking, but he gave nothing away so I added, “Like every other night since we got here.”
He nodded again. Still nothing, his face totally impassive, I couldn’t get a read on him at all.
Sy stood suddenly, “I’ll get that report to you soon.”
I wanted to ask him where he was going to go; his room or Marshall’s? I wanted to ask him why he did it, I wanted to tell him I couldn’t have done what he did, I wanted to punch the shit out of him and tell him he was a fucking idiot. Instead I waited until he left and went back to the sofa and stared at the painting on the wall again until I fell asleep.
#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill fanfiction#captain syverson#syverson fanfiction#captain syverson fanfic#captain syverson fanfiction#captain syverson x ofc#syverson#syverson x ofc#cpt syverson#captain sy#august walker fanfiction#august walker#august walker fic#august walker x ofc#walter marshall#walter marshall fanfiction#walter marshall x ofc#walter marshall fic#geralt x ofc#geralt of rivia#geralt fanfic#geralt of rivia x ofc#geralt of rivia fanfiction#mike (hellraiser)#mike hellraiser#hellraiser mike#mike hellraiser fic#mike (hellraiser) fic
354 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you do one for Changbin where he hates reader's narcissistic/verbally abusive family for obvious reasons and defends reader on a family dinner when they are being rude as usual??
With some tooth rotting fluff at the end?
Thank you 💕 and hope you have a great day, hun.
and he feels like home (창빈 x gn!reader)
pairing: seo changbin x gn!reader.
genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.
warnings/commentary: 2.3k. once again carried away by angst. the fluff didn't really come out as tooth-rotting as i wanted i'm sorry. reader's family suck. changbin doesn't suck. mentions of other members but nothing explicit so could be non!idol au. pacing is clumsy. bad batch reference.
my writing is never a real portrayal of any of the members of skz.
directory
can’t do this. plan 99.
You’d sent the message within minutes of sitting down at the restaurant uptown, your parents already sitting waiting for you and your sibling as you’d hurried in, cheeks flushed from the whirl of wintry weather outside.
You were early, knowing full well the verbal barrage that would follow if you were even a moment late to the table. Of course, your sibling who arrived ten minutes after the agreed time was met with fussing and concern, both before and after they sauntered to join you all. Your mother worried away about car accidents and your father tutted away that maybe their work had held them up because they were so good at what they did.
You remained in your seat, hands folded in your lap and silent, having not been even asked how you were after the initial hello from both your parents. It was nothing entirely new to you and yet it still stung, as it always did when you saw them after time apart. You had drifted away from them as soon as you were old enough to, putting distance and silence between yourself and the rest of your family, whether they were aware of it or not. It had taken months of therapy to begin the healing journey from the trauma of your childhood and years for you to understand deep in your heart that it wasn’t your fault, that you were not the issue, they were. But that didn’t seem to matter in the end, as every single time you saw them you felt like that little kid again, the kid who was trying so hard to be loved but nothing was ever enough, not for your family.
You fiddled with the tablecloth absently, the necklace Changbin had bought you for your three-hundred-day anniversary warm against your throat. You’d seen your mother’s eyes laser in on it, her curiosity brief before she turned her gaze elsewhere without asking, despite the reality that it was highly unlikely to have been something you’d have purchased yourself. Not that she would even know that.
The arrival of your missing sibling brings a flurry of excitement, your parents both standing to greet them whilst you remained seated, maintaining a smile as your nerves took on a steely edge. You felt almost as though you were outside looking in at strangers, even your own self felt distant and unreachable, as though in a glass cabinet- you could see yourself but were helpless to intervene.
Your sibling turned to look at you before they directed a smug look in your direction, which you met with a cool gaze and body language as aloof as you could assert. In reality, your hands were shaking and you were gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles whitened. Your parents hadn’t stood for you, let alone hugged and kissed you and praised you for even turning up.
Unhappiness bubbled sourly in your stomach, your chest tightening and you thumbed at your necklace absently as your family sat down around you, in their own bubble of chatter. It was as though you didn’t exist, and you were reminded horribly of your childhood and the terrible loneliness that came with being unwanted and unloved by those who were supposed to do it unconditionally. Your mother was speaking to your sibling about something you weren’t quite ready to tune into, your father signalling a waiter now that the party was complete and you flicked open the menu in front of you, not really reading or focused as you stared at the black print.
“Did you hear that? Are you even listening- your sibling was just telling us about how they landed a promotion and you’re not paying attention. How wonderful, my darling, We’re so proud of you- why couldn’t you be more like them, hm? Would it be so hard- oh that’s fantastic news my angel, you deserve that and so much more! Order whatever you like honey, your father and I are paying of course- you’re not going to order that are you? You should really be watching your calorie intake a bit more closely.”
“That’s wonderful news, I expect nothing less from you- you can never do anything right can you? Such an achiever, I can’t wait to tell my workmates about your achievements- take that look of your face before I slap it off. Yes, whatever you want, the bisque here is quite gorgeous and- are you sure you should be drinking that? How about a bottle of champagne for the table to celebrate the good news?”
“There’s no need to be jealous of me, I mean there is but- I was honoured to receive the news, but I expected as much, you know? I was the obvious choice- you look a little green hm? Nothing like this happens to people like you, don’t worry. Oh the bisque does look fantastic, champagne sounds great about now- should you be drinking alcohol? It’ll go straight to your-”
You stood up so fast your head nearly spun. All three members of your family looked up at you, expressions ranging from confused to alarmed to bored, your sibling already raising a smug eyebrow at your antics.
“I’m going to the bathroom. Excuse me.” You turned on your heel, attempting to control your walk as you headed almost blindly in the direction of where you hoped the bathroom was. You were almost shaking by the time you locked yourself in the stall, sitting down on the lowered seat and nearly dropping your phone as you struggled to yank it from your pocket.
Changbin’s contact was still open when your phone unlocked and you typed out the message with jittering fingers, misspelling several words before you finally inhaled, quelling the anxiety for a brief moment and in that moment, you launched the message. He was probably at the gym or with Han and Chan, creating mischief and magic in the studio or out with Felix and Minho and you hated, so much, to bother him but he promised you everytime you hesitated that he was there for you always. That it was never a bother. That he loved you more than anything. And although you found it difficult to believe, you were just you and he was the world, you needed him now, more than anything.
Plan 99, named after the Bad Batch’s plan 99 didn’t have the same life-threatening consequences (Changbin had sobbed the entirety of the final episode of the most recent season) but the nuances were the same. Sacrifice whatever you were currently attending to rescue the other. You just had to hope he’d look at his phone within the next half an hour, because that was likely as long as you could stand being around your family. You wondered vaguely if the waiters or the people around you pitied you, or if they were in the same boat as your family, forever looking down on you. You swallowed against the nauseating unhappiness in your throat, inhaling sharply and exhaling through your mouth before you pinched the bridge of your nose lightly. You could do this.
You slipped back out, aware that you’d already been suspiciously long already. Your family were still conversing, none of them looking up at you as you sat, the champagne had evidently arrived and been poured for everyone but you whilst you were gone. While you had no care for champagne, the lack of glass provided for you to even try it made your teeth set and you attempted to keep your features schooled despite the mixture of resentment and unhappiness currently welling within you.
“Where did you get such a good knock off from- it almost looks real from this angle?” It took you a moment to realise it was you being addressed, all eyes suddenly, unbearably on you. Your mother’s eyebrows had risen a little, but it was your sibling who had spoken, a meanness to their voice that was likely undetectable to anyone who didn’t know them as well as you did. Your fingers find the necklace at your throat almost thoughtfully as you shrugged your shoulders.
“It was a gift.” Your sibling scoffed quietly, rolling their eyes before they leaned closer, taking in the necklace which you desperately wanted to close your hand around, to shield from their prying gaze but you know inciting them by doing that is worse.
“It looks real. Who would spend that kind of money on someone like you? Let me see it, I want to see if it's real-” Panic surged up your throat as they reached out, expecting you to just hand over the necklace and your hand closed around it, your heart rate picking up as your fight or flight response begins to kick in. Their eyes narrow briefly, and your mother holds out an impatient hand, irritation with you clear on her face. Your father watches impassively, his arms folded over his chest and the feeling of being trapped rears up, your shoulders tensing and your breathing shudders, the blood roaring in your ears.
“No, I’d rather you didn’t. It was an anniversary gift and-” Your mother’s gaze grows shrewd and suspicious, your father the epitome of disinterest and your sibling’s eyes glitter with something malicious. You don’t doubt that the necklace will end up like the majority of your toys, broken and wrecked in your sibling’s hands and the idea of them, any of them, touching something Changbin has gifted you makes you feel sick.
“Just let me see it, I doubt it's real so I don’t know why you’re being so precious-” They break off, eyes suddenly over your shoulder and you’re suddenly aware of the presence behind you. The familiar fragrance and warmth reaches you before a hand drops protectively onto your shoulder, fingers squeezing briefly, tightly.
“I believe my partner said no. Or are you incapable of hearing anything with your head so far up your own ass?” Changbin’s voice is just above a growl and you know he must be wearing a more intimidating expression, as your sibling just stares, mouth falling open as they take your partner in.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, those of us who actually love and appreciate your child want to spend time with them. It was delightful to finally meet you all and I hope we never do it again. Ready to move honey?” You looked up at him, the fondness in his eyes making your shoulders relax. Changbin held out a hand, ever the chivalrous gentleman and you took his hand, his grip solid in your own and you couldn’t help the relieved smile that cracked over your face. His mouth quirked upwards as you stood, his hand warm and solid on the small of your back before you nodded stiffly at your parents and sibling and turned, letting Changbin guide you from the restaurant without so much as a glance back.
The car ride is quiet, but his hand doesn’t leave your thigh the entire time and you feel his gaze on you whenever there’s a red light. Changbin is usually more pushy and you could tell he’s on his most best behaviour, likely coached by Chan and Seungmin because he doesn’t ask until you reached the safety of your shared apartment. You slide out of your coat and shoes, stepping into Dwaekki slippers and Changbin into his Jiniret ones. You wanted to shower, desperately wanting the feeling of the dinner and your family’s eyes off of your skin, but you’re reminded that you hadn’t gotten around to eating and instead you made a beeline for the kitchen. Changbin’s quiet footsteps follow you, and he comes up behind you as you begin filling a pot to boil water for noodles. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin heavy on your shoulder for a moment.
“Plan 99 huh?” He says, his eyes soft with worry and you love him but you hate how he brings every wall you’ve ever built crashing down with so much as a sweet look.
“I thought it appropriate. I’m sorry, I know you probably had-” His mouth cuts you off, his lips warm against your own and you feel yourself all but melt into him, all the tension bleeding from you as you allow him to pull you into his arms. Changbin was soft for you and his friends and family alone but in that softness, you can always feel his strength. It's not only his physical strength but everything that makes him up is strong and yet so soft and yours and you let yourself succumb to the sweetness of him.
Changbin’s tongue nudged against your lips, and you opened your mouth, the quiet whine that slips from you muffled as he licked into your mouth, a hand coming to cup the back of your head. You deepened the kiss, fingers coming to rake through his hair and tug gently at his curls, making him squeak adorably against your lips. Changbin parted from you gently, his eyes liquid gold as he looked over at you and you huffed quietly, your breath coming in pants for a moment before your heartrate calmed back down. He snickered quietly at the look on your face, both the want and the disarray and you whined, leaning to bury your face in his chest and he clasped you close to him, his heartbeat thudding against your ear and you briefly fantasised about climbing into his chest and hiding within him for the rest of your lives, safe and warm.
“You’re having weird thoughts again aren’t you honey?” Changbin’s voice is a low rumble against the top of your head and you reached around him, realising the water had begun to boil quite aggressively. You hummed a quiet affirmative and he shook against you as he chuckled quietly. He released you briefly, arms returning so he was hugging you from behind, his chin on the top of your head and you dropped the cake of noodles into the water, watching the water surge around them.
“I’m so proud of you for going tonight. I love you. So much. And I want you to know that you’re so much more than your family and their words and all their judgements. Always.”
#changbin x reader#seo changbin x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz fluff#skz angst#stray kids hurt/comfort#nicole's requests
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thurber's Model — PT. 2 || William Thurber × F!Reader
Word Count: 7.1K
Genre: Romance, Secrecy, Sneaking Around, Off-Limits Reader, Overwhelming Attraction
Warning: Explicit. 18+ Only. unprotected p+v sex.
Parings: William Thurber x F!Reader
Summary: It took you about a week to learn the pattern of your parent's movements during the night and when you finally did, you sneak out of your family Manor to meet William in his dormitory.
A/N: This is for the precious @classicrebound, I know this took A WHILE but I hope you Ben Barnes fans enjoy.
Part 1
William had his eyes on you the whole time. He wasn't even listening to the compliments he was receiving for his artworks anymore. Was it bad that he wanted you even more now that he knew you were out of his league?
As discreetly as possible, you looked down at the piece of parchment in your hand. You groaned inwardly. On the paper clearly written was the name of William Thurber.
This could not be happening…….
William has made a reputation for himself, known for his family's bankruptcy. He earned a scholarship at Miskatonic with his extreme talent at portrait painting. Though your father admits that Will was born to be an artist, he specifically warned you to stay away from men like him, stating the idiom, "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." You would have never guessed that he was below elite society when he wore such sophisticated suits and styled himself rather nicely.
William waited until your parents, Mr. Dixon and Joe were ahead of him and you before he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you towards the small hallway behind the grand staircase. It was dark and, most importantly, private.
“Get your hands off me!” you demanded.
“We need to talk,” he said through clenched teeth.
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“I beg to differ.” He forced himself to ignore you soft warm body pressed up against his.
You tried to push past him, but he wasn’t having that. He gently pushed you back against the wall.
“William, let me go! They’ll notice our absence.” you look up to his devilishly handsome features, "And I do not wish to speak with you. Y-you tricked me! You knew my father was Dr. Reid didn't you?!"
“No! I did not. He was the last person I'd thought about being your father—"
You cut him off, averting your eyes, afraid that you might end up kissing him instead, "This was just a mistake, one better off forgotten.”
A mistake? The most passionate night of his life was a mistake? Your first time and that’s what you thought?
That grated on him in the worst way. “Is that what you think? Is it because you now know who I am? The son of a ruined man—”
“No, of course not! I am not that shallow. But if my father finds out about this, he will have you expelled.”
"The only way he'll find out is if you tell him what we did, right now." His eyes raked all over your face, "Or if we get caught."
God, his scent is so hypnotising, what is this man made of? You thought to yourself. Clearly he already made the conclusion that you'll be meeting each other again. He wasn’t wrong. The thought of an escapade just like Romeo and Juliet sent thrills down your spine. You might as well live the life of your fantasies before you leave the country in a few weeks time.
“One week.”
William's brows became knitted together in confusion,“What do you mean?”
“Give me one week. I'm Thurber's model, aren't I?” You tilt your head, your hand cupping one side of his face, your thumb brushing his soft lips, "I have plans already in place. You gave me your address, I know where you live. Wait for me."
A small smile twitched on the corner of William's lips and leaned in for a kiss but you released his cheek and stepped back into the foyer after making sure that it was empty. “Until we meet again, William.”
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
One week later.
You looked over at the grandfather clock clock with much eagerness. You couldn't wait for the time to come when you could sneak out of the house. 09:59 was the time.
It took a long time to figure out your parent's routine, and even longer to suck up the courage to sneak out. You had to sneak out though. You yearned for the risk and for the thrill of rebelling against your parents.
Of course, that freedom would be short-lived. You could only stay outside until 2:00 in the morning at most. Before 2:30, your father always wakes up to get a drink of milk. Usually, he won't check in on you. It's when your mother gets up at 2:40 to put away your father's milk and clean his mess that you have to worry about. She always checks on John and you before she returns to bed.
You watched the clock intently, every tick and every tock of the hand. You lay in bed in your brother's clothing. The ones you sneakily stole from the backyard after the maids left it in the sun for it to dry. Underneath it all you wore your nightgown, so that when you come back, all you have to do is hide your brother's clothes in your wardrobe and jump back into bed.
Moonlight streamed through your clear, glass window that was opened, just a crack, and spilled onto the wooden floorboards below.
Almost there. You thought to yourself, almost there. Then, the clock's hand ticked to 10:00, in an instant, sat up in your bed, your gaze wildly darting from one corner to another throughout your entire room and carefully, quietly, turned, and slipped out from under your covers and off the side of your bed. Your bare feet were soft on the dusty floorboards, and you tip-toed over to the balcony doors. Your palms were sweaty, and your breathing came in hard and rapid gulps.
You inhaled a deep, long breath, and relaxed to the sweet scent of home. Before you started to ever so slowly open the squeaky doors to your balcony, you quickly turned back around. In your excitement to get away you had forgotten to wear a sweater and shoes. It was the middle of December out there, and you'd be stupid to not wear more clothing. After throwing on the sweater and wearing your brother's loafers—which you stuffed with a handkerchief since it's too big on you—you returned to your task of climbing down the balcony and through the lattice covered with vines.
You heard a shuffling sound in your parents' bedroom, but you dismissed it and decided it was the family dog, Otto. You landed softly in the snow then you turned and ran full blast out the gates. Freedom at last.
It was freezing outside, even more cold than you imagined it would be. The wind blew hard and seared through your sweater as though it was nothing. The snow added to the cold weather. As you ran through it, you got bits of snow inside your loafers where it would melt and freeze your toes.
You slowed your run to a steady jog and crossed your arms as you did so. You shivered and huffed and you were sure that your face was flushed and red. When you woke up in the morning you would probably have a cold but you didn't care. You needed to see William. Even for an hour and a half. Any amount of time would do.
As you walked the empty streets, you tucked your long hair underneath your brother's flat cap. You were disguising yourself as a bloke because there was no way on earth would they allow in a lady inside the men's dorm where William lived.
You arrived at the block of red bricked dorm, some of the windows still had their lights on as you observed from afar. You dug the piece of parchment to make sure you were at the right place. The laughter of a group of boys headed towards the dorm caught your attention.
By the luck of the Irish. You thought to yourself because William was one of them. You scurried your way across the road and discreetly joined the group as they entered their dorm. They were either too drunk to notice that there was one additional person with them or you just did not have presence. You stayed closely behind William's tall structure and followed him as they dispersed to go to their own rooms.
You lowered your cap and kept your gaze low as you followed Will up the wooden staircase. Both of you made it up to the second floor until William grabbed you by the arm and slammed you against the wall, "What business do you have sneaking in here boy?"
You tilt your head up and meet with his hardened eyes which softened as soon as he realised who you were, "(Y/N)?"
"Shh." You hushed him, pressing your slender finger over his lips. William scanned the area, making sure it was empty before he practically dragged you up one more level where his room was located on the third floor.
He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. It's been over a week since he last saw you and thought that you were never going to show yourself again. William couldn’t stop thinking about you, there were nights where he couldn't sleep because he needed to know where you've been. He didn't expect you to dress yourself as a man and have the courage to go inside his dorm.
William shoved you into his room, scanning the hallways left to right once more for safety measures that no one saw both of you. He shut the door and locked it before turning around to find you, now with your hair down and slightly messed from being tucked from underneath the cap. God, you looked immaculate even in men’s clothing.
You expected him to have a messy room, it wasn't a surprise since you haven't met an artist who was neat and tidy. Your father certainly wasn’t, hence why your mother always cleans up after him.
"You have until one in the morning to stare at me, Thurber." You smiled softly at him. One that got his heart skipping a beat.
"Do you have any idea how much I looked forward to this day?" he asked, his lips kicking up into a sensual smile as he moved closer to you until there was barely an inch of space between you, "You probably kept me waiting on purpose." he said as he leaned down and brushed his lips tenderly against yours.
Your breath hitched, wanting to capture those lips. You leaned forward to kiss him but he retreated with a teasing smirk on his lips. Your stomach dropped as you watched him eagerly while he grabbed a sketchbook on his desk as well as a pencil case, "You can take the space on my bed."
“Like this?” You played innocent all the while staring at him innocently as you unbuttoned the dress shirt top to bottom painfully slow, revealing your sheer lace nightgown that was tucked under your slacks.
If you weren't too busy removing your top clothing, you would've noticed the clenching of William's jaw as well as the hard bobbing of his Adam's apple as you stood in front of him with nothing underneath that damned nightgown. His dark obs followed you as you sat on his bed, in a way where you flaunt your curves. You gathered your hair to one side, revealing your neck and collar bone to William before smiling sweetly at him.
Blood rushed throughout his body, particularly to the place where he didn’t want it to go because how was he supposed to focus when the shape of his shaft was squeezed up against his slacks, he was aware that you took note of that when your eyes flickered at the outline of his length behind the fabric.
"Are you comfortable like that? You can't move for a while, you know." William cleared his throat and shifted on his seat.
"I'm aware and I'm comfortable." You quickly replied.
Will jerked his head, "Alright."
He starts to sketch the outline of your body, eyes flicking back and forth trying his best to focus, but his cock wholeheartedly disagrees with the way it’s pulsing in his slacks. He can already feel the precum leaking into his briefs and William shifts uncomfortably at the thought that he's in this confined space with you getting harder by the second.
The movement must catch your attention because you look towards him and then down at my lap. “What’s wrong, William?” You asked as if fondling his name.
“Stop it. Don't talk.”
"But I want to talk, you don't want your model falling asleep now would you?" You tell him.
William pauses and notes that your thighs are pressed together, "You have a problem, (Y/N)?"
“Yes, you’re the problem.” A deep blush bloomed across your body, and William wanted to trace its path with his tongue, mark you with his teeth and touch. Proclaim to the world who you belonged to, who you should belong to.
A growl leaves his throat as he fights aside the thought of pouncing onto you on that bed, "Let's talk about something else."
"What do you want to talk about? Mister Thurber?" You blink innocently as you fondle his name one more.
“We cannot tell a soul about anything that happens tonight.”
“Never,” you whisper, “Whatever happens…stays between you and me.”
“Yes.” His eyes are wild with fire and you have a feeling that he'll be a different type of man with you tonight, “I think if you asked me, I would do just about anything you wanted at this point.”
“So…kiss me,” you command, tilting your chin upwards and staring into his eyes. “Press your lips to mine and kiss me like you mean it. Like I’m all that matters to you.”
“You are all that matters to me, (Y/N).”
“Prove it.”
"My art shall prove it for you. Now kindly stop trying to tempt, you little minx." William cracks a short teasing laugh as he holds his opened notebook in front of you like a shield. In minutes he got engrossed in his sketch work.
You elicit a shy smile and try to even out your breaths as Will sketches you—but suddenly a thought too tempting not to ask entered your train of thought.
"William?" You cooed sweetly, trying your best not to move a muscle.
"Hm?" His deep silky voice hummed.
"Do you always draw your models like this?" You asked in a heartbeat. The thought of him doing this to other ladies made your stomach turn and it wasn’t the nicest of ways.
The silence was loud when he didn't answer straight away. Only the friction between paper and pencil could be heard.
". . .No, just you." You notice Will licks his teeth as he grinned and you wish you could squeeze your eyes shut at this moment in attempts to calm yourself down. You feel like you're ready to combust, and William is making it worse.
Did he feel it, the electric current running between us? Or was it only in my imagination?
You observed him closely. You really liked his short black hair and the way that his dark brown eyes twinkled when he smiled. He was also handsome, you decided, not really knowing why that mattered, but it did.
William was trying to stay focused on the task at hand, but he can’t deny the desire he had to reach out and touch you. His eyes are scrolling slowly from your neck all the way down to your feet. Everywhere his eyes focus, and you can feel it. His gaze lingered on you for a second before he looked away as if he was searching for a hint as to what was going on in that beautiful head of yours.
William's eyes dipped to your breasts as his hands kept sketching away. You followed his gaze and noticed for the first time just how thin your nightgown was. Your nipples were so hard they showed clearly through the two layers of flimsy material. His molten gaze pinned you in place, erasing your earlier chill and leaving a deep, fiery ache in its wake. Your heart thudded so hard against your ribcage you half expected it to leap out of your chest and into his arms.
As the wind howled outside, the soft creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath your feet mingled with the sounds of both your breaths—yours shallow, William's deep and even.
“Are you holding up alright?” His voice was full of gravel, dark and rough.
You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, but you managed a small nod.
The heaviness of the air caressed you like a bold lover’s touch, and you knew, deep in your gut, you stood on a dangerous precipice. The slightest movement from you, and you would fall. The question was whether you wanted to save yourself, or if the pleasure would be worth the eventual pain.
You glanced at the clock, it was just past midnight. William glanced at his wrist watch and put down his notebook and pencil, "Is it almost time already?"
"Yes, unfortunately, are you almost finished?"
"Far from finished, I want to get every detail." William rose from his seat and sat down on the space next to you. William's touch skimmed down your neck and over the curve of your shoulder. You shivered, your skin blossoming with a thousand more goosebumps.
Oh, God. Every ounce of oxygen disappeared from your lungs. The fact that the warm light of candles was the only thing that illuminated the room didn't help.
“You should go home, I'll walk you back.”
You shook your head. “Take me, William. I will leave in a few weeks. I don't know when I'll be back. Take me.” You whispered, "Make me yours."
You know you said you didn't want to be any man’s property, but William. . . You just knew he wouldn't treat you that way. He would treat you as an equal.
William groaned, and with that one sound, you knew he’d made his choice. Breathe. Even when there was no oxygen, no air, nothing but him. Breathe.
He dipped his head, but instead of kissing your mouth, he kissed the hollow of your throat. It was so soft it was more a whisper of breath than a kiss, but it was enough to make your knees weaken.
You were a lightning rod, and William was the strike that lit you up from the inside out. You closed your eyes and stifled a moan as he dragged his mouth up your neck, inch by inch. Just as the lazy possessiveness of his touch lulled you into a semi-stupor, he yanked you toward him with one hand and sank his teeth into the curve between your neck and shoulder. Hard. Almost as hard as the thick arousal pressing against your stomach and causing your core to throb with need. William's other hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your surprised yelp.
“Tell me.” His voice lowered. “What would your father think about this?”
He remained still, his muscles coiled with tension. He couldn’t claim you the way he wanted outside these walls, but right here, right now, when it was just the two of you? He was going to take you until you were both utterly ruined.
“He'll be everything but happy—but I don’t care. I want to be selfish for once. I want to be with you.”
“You want to be with me even though you're not supposed to?” William hissed out a breath and released your throat, only to curl his hand around the back of your neck. He yanked you to him again, crushing your mouth to his, and your world imploded. Tongues, teeth, hands.
You devoured each other like the world would end and this was our last chance to feel something. Perhaps it was. But you wouldn’t think about that now, not when your bodies pressed so tight against each other you might as well be one, and you were falling, falling into an abyss you never wanted to get out of.
Your sister was right. You could tell everything from a kiss.
You tugged on William's hair, desperate for more. More of his touch, his taste, his scent. You wanted to fill every inch of your soul with this man. He drew your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. You gasped, so aroused you could feel your wetness slicking your thighs.
He leaves a wet open-mouthed kiss just at the base of your collarbone before lowering his mouth ever so slightly. His tongue darts out to taste your skin and he traces your bare skin delicately as you mewl beneath him.
“Quiet,” he rasped. “Or someone will hear.”
He swept his palm up your inner thigh to your core and let out a low groan when he discovered how wet you were. The room wasn’t that big, but the anticipation made it seem endless. You glimpsed yourself in the full-length mirror mounted on the wall, and your skin burned at the sight: He fisted your hair with one hand and used the other to unbuckle his pants. His cock sprung out, thick and hard, the swollen head dripping with pre-cum.
God, I needed to taste him. No one had ever turned you on as much as he did. Every word, every touch, every glance. You wanted it all. You scooted out of the bed and knelt in front of him. You stared at him with pleading eyes. William hadn’t finished nodding before you took him in my mouth, savouring his groans and the way he pulled your hair as you eagerly licked and sucked.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” he grunted, pushing his cock deeper until it hit the back of your throat. You spluttered, your eyes watering from the sheer size of him.
You moaned out an unintelligible response. Your hand drifted between your legs, but you didn’t make contact before he yanked you up and captured your mouth in a hard, starving kiss. He has waited for this moment. You could taste it on his tongue, feel it in the roughness of his hands as he squeezed your ass and helped you move until you were straddling his lap.
When he was younger he hadn't cared and never bothered trying, going from one woman to the next had made little difference to him. Over the years, things changed, he'd changed and he wanted more in his life, but no matter what he did nothing changed. He'd dated some wonderful women that would make any other man drop to his knees and thank god that he was alive, but not him.
He hadn't been able to return their feelings and it just about killed him when he couldn't force himself to love them. He could easily think of five of his past lovers that would have probably given him a good life as they grew old together, but he hadn't felt anything for them. Hell, he couldn't even get it up for them without thinking about the woman currently running her fingers through his hair as you urged him to continue with soft little moans that had his cock jerking in appreciation.
This was the woman that his body craved day and night and it would accept no substitutes. It was something that he'd have to worry about, but later. Right now he was going to enjoy the freedom to touch you. Whatever happened later he'd deal with it. Right now, nothing else mattered but you, the woman moaning his name.
"Stop," you said, panting hard as you tried to catch your breath.
Stopping was the last thing that he wanted to do, but he did. He wasn't an asshole and would never force a woman to do anything that she didn't want. It was a struggle, but he somehow managed to pull away from you.
As soon as he made a move and made sure that you were okay, he found himself shoved down onto his back. By the time the movement registered in his mind, you were already climbing over him and gripping his cock by the base as your pert little ass wiggled above his face. He didn't waste any time in raising his face to continue lapping at your slit as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you still.
"So much better," you said in a throaty whisper as you stroked his cock curiously. When you ran your tongue from the head to the base, his hips jerked up in response and when you wrapped your lips around the tip and lightly suckled, he swore that he saw God.
As his head hit the bed he brought you down with him, too greedy for you to allow even a second of separation. Your hard nipples brushed against his stomach, back and forth as you moved your mouth over his cock, taking it as far as your naturally talented mouth would allow while you rode his tongue.
He gripped your ass, restraining some of your movements so that he could slide his tongue in and out of your core to mimic what you were doing to his cock. He ran his tongue slowly between your slit, loving the moan you released around his cock. What you were doing to him felt fucking fantastic, but what he was doing to you was life altering. As you both took your time licking, suckling and nibbling, the only sounds that could be heard in his room were moans, groans and whispered pleads never to stop.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
A loud cry escaped your lips as you struggled to continue giving him pleasure, but you couldn't. You just couldn't take it any longer.
With another strangled cry, you released him from your mouth and was forced to rest your head on his hip less than an inch from the large erection that you'd been worshipping only seconds earlier. Your body tightened as your back bowed, seconds away from what you already knew would be a powerful orgasm.
You bit your lip as you pleaded with your body to hurry before he stopped. He hadn't yet, but in a few seconds he would realise that you'd stopped pleasuring him and he would demand that you continue. Men could be selfish jerks, you thought as you licked your lips hungrily.
Just when you thought that he was finally going to stop, he didn't. Oh no, not even close. His arms tightened around you, holding you securely against him as he devoured you and there really was no other way to describe what the man was doing to you. It felt good, so good……too good.
You tried to pull away, but the damn man refused to give you an inch. Your good hand clenched into a fist, gripping the soft comforter in a death grip as a muffled scream of pleasure like nothing you'd ever heard before ripped from your throat, taking your breath away. The surge of pleasure that rocked your body left you boneless and barely able to softly cry "Stop" as William continued, making your body prepare for another orgasm that would no doubt kill you.
"Shhh, it's okay," William said soothingly as he pulled away and gently rolled you off and onto your back where you lay panting as your overstimulated mind tried to figure out what just happened.
He gently brushed your hair out of your face as he pressed a tender kiss against your lips all while the proof that the man hadn't found any relief pressed against your hip.
"You okay?" he asked, giving you another one of those tender kisses that you were really starting to like.
"Mmmmhmmm," you sighed happily as you found yourself leaning in and kissing him. Right now, you couldn't think past how good he made you feel, how much you wanted him, needed him and suddenly nothing else mattered but you and him.
William growled in approval as he returned your kisses and his cock brushed against your sensitive skin. You reached between you as both of you took your time kissing and when you found what you were looking for, you didn't hesitate in running your hand over it. You couldn't imagine enjoying the way a man felt in your hands like this before. The hot, silky skin that covered the large erection felt incredible and you realised as you took your time running your hand over him that you weren't in a rush to finish this.
You were finding your aching all over for him. It shouldn't be possible, especially not after the incredible orgasms that he'd just given you, but you couldn't help it. The sexy little growls he made every time your hand skimmed over the large head had you shifting your legs as you tried to ignore the need growing inside of you until you couldn't ignore it any longer.
You were both breathing hard, the kiss becoming more aggressive as William reached between you and cupped you between your legs, careful not to get in the way of what you were doing for him. You tried to be good, tried to stay still, but when he ran one long, thick finger between your folds you were lost. You shifted your legs, desperate to give him more access. He growled approvingly as he slid his finger inside of you, matching the way you were moving your hand over him.
Unable to wait another minute, you released him and hooked your leg over his hip. With a gentle nudge, you had him turning over onto his back. He removed his hand from between your legs so that he could wrap his arms around you and take you with him, which was more than fine with you. Better than fine actually.
You shifted back, rolling your hips with the movement. When you slid over his erection you both groaned long and loud and when you moved to do it again, the tip of his erection came to rest at your core.
"Are you sure?" William asked, against your mouth.
"Yes," you said in a harsh whisper as you pushed back, taking the tip inside of you. His loud groan encouraged you to take more, but the problem was that he was a bit bigger from what you remember, but you didn't allow that to discourage you. You wanted this man and you were going to make damn sure that you had him.
A startled gasp escaped your lips as William suddenly thrust, filling you halfway. In the next second you found yourself on your back and William pulling out only to thrust back in, filling you all the way. As you lay there, digging your nails into his back as he stretched you a little too much, you were torn between screaming in frustration and screaming at him to move. You rolled him back over until you found yourself splayed on top of him.
"It's all yours, princess, but you gotta move before I lose my fucking mind," he groaned softly against your lips as his hands moved up to cup your face while he kissed you.
It took you a few seconds to realise what he'd said and done and when you did, you couldn't help but release a satisfied moan as you tentatively rolled your hips. His answering groan was all the encouragement that you needed to continue. You might not be experienced in this position, but you were more than willing to keep doing it until you got it right, you decided with a throaty groan as William slid one hand between them and cupped your breast as the other one moved down your back and palmed your ass as you rode him.
"Don't stop, (Y/N)," he said on a groan as he moved his mouth to your neck just as you registered his hand leaving your bottom and moving up your body to palm your other breast.
"Or what?" You asked breathlessly as you picked up the pace, taking him deeper and harder each time.
"I'll make you forget how to walk and we both know you like your walks." he promised tightly as he moved his mouth back to yours, kissing you and sending you over the edge.
You felt him grow inside of you and if Will hadn't suddenly released your breasts to cup your face and keep your mouth right where it was, you probably would have screamed in pleasure, well, screamed louder. He felt so good, sliding in and out of you as the large velvety head rubbed against you in just the right way.
You tried to make it last longer, but the second that you heard your name leave his lips in a strangled growl, you lost it. A violent orgasm tore through you, leaving you breathless and unable to so much as move as pleasure assaulted your body. You never broke away from William's mouth, somehow knowing that it wouldn't be as good without this connection. Everything about this moment felt perfect, felt right. You couldn't explain it, didn't want to look too deeply into it and wreck this moment.
Long after your bodies were sated, you lay on top of him, kissing him leisurely as you enjoyed the way that he held you. For several minutes you allowed him to hold you, comfort you and make you feel wanted, loved and cherished, but all too soon you realised that you didn't have an excuse to remain in his arms.
"Oh dear, look at the time. I must go." You hopped out of William's arms and hastily plucked your brother's stolen clothes from the floor and began wearing them.
"Allow me to walk you home." William sat up from his bed dressed himself as well.
"Oh no, no need, dearest William. I can walk myself home." You tucked your already buttoned up dress shirt in your pants—until William took you by the chin and tilted your head up.
"I must. If anything happens to you, I won't be able to forgive myself."
You felt your cheeks heat up, "You're too sweet." You placed your palm over his cheek, "This isn't a scheme to figure out where I live now, is it?" You teased him.
"You have me all figured out."
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
William accompanied you all the way to your father's mansion. Though you were dressed as a man, one could never be complacent. Sometimes a drunkard walks the street and picks on innocent passersby for a fight.
“What are your plans later on in the morning?” William asks.
You cleared your throat before you answered. “I thought I’d go for a walk in the park if it’s a beautiful day.”
“Wouldn't it be far too cold for a walk?” he asks.
"Yes but as long as there isn't a breeze that would take me away, you can get used to the temperature." You shrugged, "I also like to watch kids have a snowball fight, it reminds me of my childhood."
"I wish I could join you, during your walks."
"Well? Why don't you? Father introduced us to each other and we could say we get along well. . .maybe too well." You laughed sheepishly and looked away from William.
There she is again with that charming laugh. How does one stay away from her when her whole being just pulls you in? William thought to himself all the while laughing along with you.
The way William looked at you at the night of the exhibit didn't go unnoticed by Dr. Reid. In fact, after the little private conversation between you and William, Dr. Reid had a word with him.
"I saw the way you were looking at my daughter." Dr. Reid said discreetly as he stood next to William, "She is quite the beauty wouldn't you agree?"
William thought of his answer very carefully, "Yes, Sir, I agree."
"She was looking at you the same exact way—I've never seen her look at a man like the way she had her eyes on you tonight." Dr. Reid swirled his wine around before sipping it, "I want you to stay away from her and we won't have a problem."
"I'm sorry?"
Dr. Reid pivoted to face William this time, "You're a talented artist, Thurber. You should focus on that. Unless you have anything good to offer my family, don't even think about lining up to pursue my daughter."
"—Don’t you think? Will? William?" You nudged him out of his trance as both of you stopped right in front of the side of the mansion where the balcony of your room was.
"Hm?" He snapped out of it.
"Where did you go just now?" You chuckled and nodded towards the sky, "Help me up?"
"Just got lost in thought."
"Am I a bore to talk to now?" You teased, nudging him on his side with your elbow.
William gave you the sharpest worried gaze, “No! Of course not.”
“Oh William~ I was just teasing you.” You laughed, “Well? Are you going to help me up the balcony?”
William bent his knees and held his hands together for you to use as a boost to get onto your balcony. You hauled yourself up, trying to be as quiet as possible. You turned around and gazed down at William, who was admiring your beauty from below.
“Would you like to come up?” You asked.
William blinked, did he hear that correctly? “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh come on, Mister Thurber, don’t make me ask you twice.”
William nervously looked around, even though no one but you was around, he felt as though he was being watched.
“You’re killing me, princess.” He muttered and reached up at the ledge with his long arms. Unlike you, he climbed up that balcony effortlessly. Before you could even take another breath he was already in front of you. Yours was a story destined for a tragic ending, but when you were already on a train headed off the cliff, all you could do was hold on tight and make every second count.
William drank you in, not missing a single detail. The wisps of hair curling around your face, the nervous anticipation in your eyes, the way your chest rose and fell in time with his own uneven breaths. Part of him wanted to march over, rip off your clothes, and fuck you right then and there. Another part of him wanted to savour the moment—the last wild, beating seconds before both of you destroyed whatever was left of your boundaries. He was a rule follower by nature. It was how he’d survived most of his life. But for you, he would break every rule in the book.
“So.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your hand trembling. “Now that we’re here, what do you have planned, Mr. thurber?” He smiled, slow and enchanting, and a small, visible shiver rippled through your body.
William grabbed the back of your neck, pulled you close, and crushed his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your body warm and pliant against his as he plundered your mouth. To him, you tasted like mint and strawberries, and he wanted more. Needed more. His heart was a loud drum in his chest, beating in time with the throbbing in his cock. All of his senses sharpened to near-painful clarity—the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your skin beneath his hands, the smell of your perfume and the sounds of your little whimpers as you clung to him like you were drowning and William was your last lifeline.
You backed up in your room, pulling William in with you without ever parting your lips, until you landed on your mattress with him on top of you. He rubbed his thumb over your clothed nipples, and you fought back a moan as you arched into his hand— The floor creaked behind your bedroom door. You and William froze in unison, your breathing harsh. You’d gotten so wrapped up in what both of you were doing you’d forgotten all about the people sleeping just a few feet away. You both heard another creak, followed by the shuffle of someone getting out of bed. Your father, if the direction of the sound was any indication. William cursed under his breath and pulled his hand away. It was the smart thing to do, but you still wanted to weep at the loss of contact.
“I guess that’s my cue to head home.” William whispered against your lips. He gently pushed himself aside while he straightened his shirt.
“It’s very late and it’s cold outside,” You scooted closer and rested your chin on his shoulder, “Stay.”
William turned his head towards yours, “You want me to stay?”
You nodded, “We don’t have to do anything but sleep. I have to admit, I feel good being in your arms.”
William chuckled to himself, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse, “I’m starting to think you’ve put me under your spell.” William slipped out of his shoes and jacket before gathering you carefully into his arms, tucking your head into his shoulder and aligning your frozen limbs with his. You felt stiff enough to shatter due to the absence of his warmth, but bit by bit, your muscles began to relax until you lay pliant against him. Pliant and sleeping. It didn’t take very long. Maybe fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes for you to regain yourself. Fifteen minutes for him to lose himself.
At the crack of dawn, your skin buzzed with the warmth of waking up from a deep sleep. You looked up to the same ceiling but this time, William’s dark eyes blocked your view. They were constant yet unfamiliar. Your head eases back when you feel his fingers in your hair, playing thoughtfully with the strands.
“You’re awake.” You said, barely keeping yourself awake.
“So are you, you should go back to sleep.” William whispered and leaned down, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You hummed in return.
William sat still on the side of your bed to make sure you were back into deep sleep before he got up to leave. The sun was peeking slightly in the horizon when William walked out of the balcony, the freezing temperature nipping his skin. Slowly, William climbed down the same way he used to get up to your balcony. He landed on both his feet on the grass with a soft thud.
“Mister Thurber?” Dr. Reid blurted out confused as to what the lad was doing in front of his house. Dr. Reid stood in front of his house, looking well-decent, while William looked, well, like he just woke up, half of his shirt untucked and his hair slightly dishevelled.
“D-Did you just jump down from my daughter’s balcony?!”
Tag List: @intothesoul @ladywhistledownx @ellooo0ooo @mikeikax @fangirlingsimp @misshall14 @iamgettingalife
#ben barnes#william thurber x you#william thurber x reader#william thurber x y/n#ben barnes x you#ben barnes x reader#ben barnes x y/n#ben barnes fanfiction#ben barnes fanfic#ben barnes fluff#ben barnes smut#the cabinet of curiosities au#william thurber
288 notes
·
View notes
Note
hihiii can I req a aamon x reader where's it's like arranged marriage au typa vibe?? both from different kingdoms n are very different but manage to yk bond n stuff 😖😖
asunder; aamon since the marriage ceremony, he's been unseen in his own home. you only feel its right—if you're the person to confront him.
n. i was hitting that poetry shit in this one omg. and please, good lord, i just wanna believe aamon is canonically british. please. i tried to capture ur req as best as i could!
c. arranged marriage au, unrequited love, ooc(?)
aamon deliberately meddled himself into his work and duties more often than he would have. he found consolation within his office—so he never left it. each day would be scheduled with meetings, inspections, and business matters. he immediately became weary of it. but he didn’t halt with his bearish intentions.
it was the fourth week that you resided in his home. each week passed without his presence. it became most apparent that aamon was dodging your entire existence.
a feeling of transgression and inhospitality poked at the back of his brain—a pot of poison stirring in his fleshy stomach. he was glued to his chair, stuck in a boundless hex.
and you still hadn’t had a clue on what his intentions were. nonetheless, you tried to not make much out of it—marriage life was hectic and you decided his feelings couldn’t be misheard.
it was an overwhelming decision, even more, a forced decision by your kingdom. you never intended to settle for marriage so soon, given, prior to your engagement; you remained committed as a solitary princess.
it was an unexplored aspect for the both of you.
“aamon-“ you entered the unoccupied space, a cold breeze running through your feet. aamon’s usual lively office was completely empty.
it took a few moments of reflection before you entered his office. hadn’t your curiosity got the best of you, you surely would have left as quick as you came. you flicked the lights on, bringing the interior of his room to light.
it was plain—modernized to a suitable extent. wooden bookshelves outlined the outer walls of his office, besides them were file cabinets. he had one large desk in the center, file folders and miscellaneous papers sloppily scattered around the surface of the desk.
a large window faced from behind his desk, gaining a considerable source of light—allowing either the sun or moon to glimmer off the reflection of his desk.
you anxiously approach the desk—your fingers running along the cluttered articles. as your eyes watched the tips of your fingers graze the tough surface, you caught a glimpse of an opened paged journal noted with ‘entry iii’.
you moved any unwanted objects out of the way, your own consciousness growing more intrigued as moments passed by. you took the article in your hand, eyes darting to meet each word to match your mouth.
entry iii
her countenance deceives me, whereas her actions lighten me. if i were to write a report to her peers, i would think she was a bewitching maiden. her mere presence creates an altercation between herself and i. my perception of that woman is scarcely comparable to one of a few things. it has me bound at my will. i want to ultimately refuse her propositions of companionship. thenceforth, i will avoid that woman of great mystery.
a visible frown was placed upon your lips. you had been good. throughout your time here, you have been nothing but good. what could aamon hold so much against you? what was his ulterior motive?
a fit of rage threatened to surge from you—it can’t be. you shifted your eyes downward from the page and instead of falling to your feet—your pupils focused on a small fonted phrase.
princess, i’m afraid i can no longer fool myself.
your breath hitched as the journal fell from your hands. “i see you’ve explored my study.” aamon cocked his head to the side—almost in disbelief. he entered the room with a heavy presence and it went completely unnoticed by you.
“aamon.” your entire body felt numb as you stood like a deer in headlights, unable to move forward from your spot.
aamon chuckled in amusement—he seemed the least offended with the intrusion. it didn’t take long until your body finally found its motion and you discreetly walked away from his desk.
the prospect of it all felt impudent—to his letter of criticism, and lastly; his judgment of you. you received his disregard as something that would soon pass. or maybe, it was a plain misconception to you.
“have you read my letter?” he inquired.
“yes.”
he nodded in acknowledgement as he moved to sit comfortably into the chair behind his desk. “it’s exactly what it says,”
your eyebrows dug into your forehead. he spoke calmly, with a steady expression. “excuse me?”
“the letter.” i blink in disbelief.
“you intrigue me, princess.” the glint in his eyes meant more than what he said. his commendation of sanction captured you in his essence.
once he played your game—maybe you would play his.
© 3xen
#𓂃ᰔ xen writes#mobile legends bang bang#mobile legends#mlbb#mobile legends bang bang x reader#mobile legends x reader#mlbb x reader#aamon#aamon x reader
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mystery Club - Chapter Eight - Wanda Maximoff x Reader Series
Summary: Returning to your hometown five years after leaving everything behind, including your best friend, is no easy feat. Getting involved in a secret club wasn't in the plans either. Or the one based on Life is Strange.
Warnings: (+18) high school au, best friends to lovers, mild/heavy angst mentions with happy happing, use of legal substances (alcohol, marijuana), violence, verbal aggression, explicit language, smut, triggers regarding sexual assault, mentions of death, grieving, hints of depression and anxiety, panic attacks, a lot of domesticity.
General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad || Series Masterlist
--//--
Chapter Eight - Waterfalls Picnics
A 'Save the Abandoned Neighborhood' flyer with information from the most recent petition and protest at City Hall was crumpled next to the last can of coke Wanda had put on the table.
The garage was well lit - You left the door open, and dragged, with her help, half the items out to clean the place. It was Saturday, and it was pleasantly windy so that even after the physical exertion of cleaning the small dwelling, you still had an open flannel covering your torso.
Wanda was having a good time watching you kick the wooden bars upstairs.
"Shit!" You gasped with a surprised laugh when the last one fell, allowing passage to the next commode. You grabbed a broom-one of the many cleaning items you brought from the Club-and poked at the old steps to make sure they wouldn't give way before you stepped on. "Come on, Wands, it's safe to go."
"I'm resting." She purrs lazily, sitting in the armchair. You threaten her with the broom, and she laughs before getting up and following you upstairs.
Your old house is just as you remember it, except for the dirt and mold growing on some of the walls. You sigh wearily as you see the amount of work you would have to do to completely renovate a place like this.
"Hey, do you remember this?" Wanda asked once you were upstairs in your old room. You had just finished checking that the windows were still safe to touch when she touched erased strokes on the wall that made you smile.
"Of course, I remember." You retorted nostalgically, moving closer to her.
Three scratches on the wall marked the heights of children and their ages. One for you, and two for the twins. Wanda caressed her brother's with a sad smile, and you held her hand, resting your face on her shoulder.
"We had such fun here, detka." Wanda whispers, before lowering her hand. "Pietro totally had a crush on you." She teases then, to which you let out an indignant exclamation, pulling away to look at her.
"No, he didn't!"
She laughs lightly. "It's an effect you have on this family, accept the truth."
You blush and roll your eyes, but follow her laughter. "For your information, he was the first to know that I..." But you fall silent, realizing that you never told Wanda that.
She raises her eyebrows in curiosity. "You?"
Clearing your throat in shame, you shake your head and face your feet. "It's silly, let's keep going. We have work to do."
Wanda looks at you suspiciously. "What is it? Tell me..." She insists, following you around.
You laugh, your face growing warm. "It's no big deal, Pietro was just the first person I told that I liked you."
Wanda lets out a surprised exclamation. "What?"
You shrug. "Yeah, but I don't think he even got it right." You mutter, now in the kitchen beating the built-in cabinets with the broom to make sure no rats or raccoons are hiding in there. "Remember when you had that super important piano test for the French school? I wanted to wish you good luck before you left, but I missed the train and got late. Pietro was at home, he thought it was funny that I woke up so early and came all over his home alone just to wish you good luck, and I don't know, I just confessed that for a friend like you, every effort was worth it." You counter with a nostalgic chuckle, busying yourself with the cabinets to notice the way Wanda is looking at you. "It sucks that you didn't get the scholarship."
Wanda swallows dryly, leaning on the countertop. "But I got the scholarship, Y/N."
You make a confused face, staring at her. "What?"
The brunette laughs sadly, shrugging. "It was the best performance the judge has seen in years, their words not mine." Wanda counters, swallowing dryly again to hide the emotion in her voice. "I won the scholarship right there, after the performance."
You leave the broom resting, and approach her curiously. "But you didn't go to France..."
Wanda laughs sadly, and you are close enough for her to hold your hands, which she does without hesitation. With her fingers caressing your big toes, she murmurs:
"There wasn't a you in France."
You choke in surprise. "Wanda, it was your dream-"
She laughs, shaking her head. "No, it wasn't." She assures you, moving your hands to her waist. You hold her without hesitation. "My father always projected things onto his children, this was one of them. I liked Piano, but going to a French boarding school was what he wanted, not me. And this wasn't even the first time I chose to stay."
You blink interestedly. "Yeah? When else?"
But Wanda grows sad, her arms folded against her chest. "When my mother died, my aunt invited me to live with her." Wanda confesses, surprising you. "Pietro wasn't going to leave dad, or school. And me? I couldn't leave Pietro, and I didn't want to leave you."
You swallowed dryly, noticing the way she was tense. "But if that was after Natalya died..."
Wanda laughs sadly. "Yeah, you left soon after." She comments bitterly, looking down. "And years later, I lose Pietro too. It's kind of fucked up, isn't it? Choosing to stay in one place for other people and ending up alone in the end."
"Fuck, Wanda, I'm so sorry." You gasp, and she's ready to say it's okay, but you pull her close. And you hug her tight, really tight, the way she missed it. "I'm really sorry. If I could change things, I would in a heartbeat."
She gives a weak, affected laugh against your neck, and her arms, now uncrossed, squeeze you against her.
"It's okay, you're here now." She whispers. "I don't feel alone anymore."
You swallow dryly, your chest warming with affection but your heart breaking for the situation. All you could do was hug her tighter, and hold her as much as she needed.
–//–
"Did you get your costume?"
"Yep, clean and ready for Sunday."
"Cool."
A short pause. The only sound is your breathing through the phone.
"How about-"
"I gotta-"
Two giggles. You hold the doorknob, shifting the weight of your feet. Wanda sighs softly on the other side.
"You first." You tell her.
"No, don't worry, it was silly." She justifies quickly. "You were going to say you have to go to class, right? You can go. I'll call you later."
You grimace softly but are already leaving the dorm anyway. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, detka." Wanda assured. You saw Yelena waiting at the end of the hall, and waved to her with the hand that held the keys.
"Alright then, love you, bye." You mumbled before hanging up.
Yelena yawned, handed you a coffee cup resembling hers, and was in the middle of ranting about the number of activities the teachers had gone through in the last week when you noticed what you had said to Wanda and choked on your cappuccino.
The blonde next to you made a confused face, massaging your back lightly.
"I just told Wanda that I love her." You cough, your eyes filled with nervous tears, your face flushed.
Yelena laughs, raising an eyebrow. "And that's a reason to waste Starbucks? You know I waited in line for forty minutes today because they were fixing the machines and-
"Yelena, I never said it before!" You interrupt her half-desperately. "Well, never like that at least. Never like, hey I love you romantically, the way I can't wait to live in a real home with you and marry you and have beautiful children-"
"Who's having children?" Peter cuts in curiously as he catches up with you two outside, Kate at his elbow.
Yelena laughs. " I don't know about children, but a stroke..."
You had already handed the coffee cup to the blonde and were dialing Wanda's number again. She didn't answer.
"Oh great, now she hates me." You gasped with the phone in your ear.
Yelena rolled her eyes, and Kate and Peter exchanged confused glances, but the blonde was already taking the phone from your hand and handing you back your coffee.
"I highly doubt your girlfriend will hate you for this, now can we go to class? Call her later."
"But-"
"You can't miss any more classes, Romeo. Or you'll lose your scholarship, and then there'll be lots of 'I love you' from England when you have to move back in with your father." Yelena insists, a hand on her back to urge you to walk.
You grimace but can't resist following your friends to the school building.
Luckily for your anxiety, Wanda texts you later in the day, which you only get to see in between Chemistry and Literature.
"I went to take a shower, did you want something?"
"To shower with you." You flirt immediately, feeling your cheeks heat up.
Wanda takes a moment to respond.
"There will be other opportunities." She says, and you swallow dryly, trying not to imagine it and failing miserably. "Just making me blush is what you wanted?"
You chuckle softly, your hands on the keyboard. But then you realize that you don't know exactly what to say. Sorry for saying I love you doesn't sound very nice.
"It was nothing, it was silly.'
Wanda sends a giggling emoji. "Is that a comeback for earlier? Okay, smarty-pants. I wanted to call you for a date."
You widen your eyes softly. "What? Really?"
"Yeah. It's silly, so I let it go."
You licked your lips, thoughtful for a moment. "We hang out together all the time, Wands."
"Yeah, I know." She texted. "I guess that's my kind of way of saying I want to hang out with you more."
You laugh shyly. "In that case, the idea is incredible. When do we go out?"
"Well, you have a busy week with school, my favorite nerd. And we're going to the party next Sunday, so..."
"Saturday." You add. "Sounds lovely. Where are you taking me?"
"It's a surprise, obviously."
You bite back a smile. "Obviously." You text back, being able to imagine Wanda's cute face. "I'm going into class now, I'll talk to you later."
"Okay, Y/N, love you, bye."
Your stomach does two full turns. "I love you too, Wands."
–//–
Dried autumn leaves marked the landscape around you.
Wanda was walking ahead - guiding a path that you knew well but still allowed her the suspense of not telling you where it was leading.
It was hot for the season, but that was a good thing because the waterfall was empty for a Saturday, and it was rare enough to miss the opportunity to swim. That should be the fault of the few attractions in town, like the arcade and Odin's Bar, which were so full when you drove by in the pickup truck that they were lining up at the door.
"What do you think?" Wanda asked with her arms extended towards the landscape. You chuckled, enjoying the very different from a typical appearance she had today - Wearing a flannel she 'borrowed' from you, hair covered by a football cap, jeans shorts, and worn sneakers, the look not so different from yours.
"We were lucky to get the empty seat." You mutter, adjusting the picnic basket in your hands. "I remember it used to be so crowded here when we were kids."
Wanda laughs, guiding the walk to a good spot to sit. "Nobody comes to the places beyond the power plant anymore, Y/N. All the old residents think they'll grow an extra leg if they swim around here."
You giggle at her grimace, waiting for her to roll out the towel she was carrying to put the basket on top of it.
Picnics with Wanda became your favorite activity. There was good food, sunshine, and her.
The two of you were engaged in casual conversation the whole time, stealing glances between bites of the various dishes you brought.
The morning became late, and Wanda wanted to swim.
"There's no point in saying you didn't bring a bikini, detka, there's nothing I haven't seen already." She teases casually before pulling up her own blouse. "At some point in my life."
You think to counter that seeing each other naked as children was not the same as it is now, but you are distracted by the sight of Wanda in a bra and panties. She gives you a wink, gesturing for you to get up too, and after a bit of gentle complaining, you do.
Wanda just stares - She doesn't care about the way your cheeks blush or the gentle trembling of your hands. She stands there, stares, and waits for you to take off your clothes with the calmest expression in the world.
And when you're there, in just your underwear, she bites her lip and takes a deep breath. "Fuck, you're so pretty."
You chuckle shyly, blushing even more if that was even possible. You move closer to her and bring your hands to her cheeks. "Nah, you're beautiful. Fucking gorgeous." You compliment her, kissing her on the lips once, twice. She giggles against your lips, and when you face her, she has rosy cheeks and a passionate look on her face.
"I love you, you know?"
You kiss her, firmer this time. She sighs, but you break it off before it deepens.
"I do get a slight impression." You tease, making her laugh. Wanda playfully pinches your rib, and you squirm away, Wanda following you. "Hey, hey! That's a good thing since I love you so much!"
She starts chasing you in circles, down to the waterfall, the two of you laughing until you reach the water and let out exclamations at the freezing temperature. Wanda makes mention of turning around, and you grab her by the waist, pulling her back.
"No, no, honey, you wanted to swim, let's go then!" That was your only warning before you took her to the deep end for a swim with you.
After that came a few others. And you got into a competition of holding your breath, and Wanda thought she felt some animal on her leg and jumped on you, and there were also some leaps off a rock.
One, maybe two hours passed, and you had her pressed against the edge.
Your gasping was muffled by the sound of the water. Wanda had one hand in your hair and another on your neck, trying to have the slightest control over the passionate kisses you had been exchanging for minutes.
She was failing, though. Apparently, you knew all too well how to kiss her right, the way that made her legs turn to jelly and turned her into a complete mess.
You sucked on her tongue next, and she whimpered.
With a breathless giggle, you broke the kiss, your lips moving down her jaw and neck.
"God, those sounds you make, Wands..." You whisper, your hands previously firm on her waist, begin to rise and Wanda has to bite her lips to contain herself. "It's addictive, baby. I kind of want to discover them all."
Your hands find her breasts and squeeze. Light at first, and then firmer. Wanda moaned right in your ear, and you almost lost your sanity.
Staring at her again, you found rosy cheeks and pupils dilated completely. Wanda stared back, and you swallowed dryly, moving your hands to her shoulders where you pushed up the straps of her bra.
With the item lose around her, you stepped forward into the back clasp, and Wanda bit her lips with the diminished distance, closing her eyes for a second.
With her breasts showing, your hands went up. Not to them, but to her cheeks.
"Is that all right? We don't have to...there's no rush, I mean." You tell her, and Wanda sighs, an affectionate smile appearing on her lips.
"I'm ready if you are." She retorts, making you smile as well.
You look around, however, chuckling lightly afterward. "But it's kind of uncomfortable here, don't you think? We can go back to my dorm..."
Wanda nods, cutting you off with a firm kiss that makes you grunt affectedly. "Can we just play for a while, detka? You got me all wet and I'm not talking about the water-"
You interrupt her with another grunt. "God, Wands, of course." She smiles as you kiss her again, and this time, although she is sighing with every movement of your fingers on her nipples, she seems in control, the strong grip on the back of your neck tells you so.
You break the kiss and move your mouth down to her breasts, and Wanda throws her head back when your tongue teases the tip before you take it in and start sucking.
"J-just like that, love... keep going..." She guides with a trembling voice, thighs pressing together under the water. You give a particularly delicious suck and her knees almost give way. "Fuck, that feels so good."
You pull your mouth away, and return your hands to kissing before commenting good-humoredly, "I was kind of hoping for the piercings..." You tease, and Wanda chuckles between one sigh and another, turning her face to have you kiss her again.
You do, with enough passion and fervor that she adjusts the weight of her feet, and has to hold your shoulder for support. She tries to regain control, but your hand moves down to her panties, and once your fingers tease her over the fabric, Wanda loses it.
An affected whimper escapes her lips, and her urge is to pull her face away to breathe, but you chase after her mouth. And you kiss her, and kiss her, even as your fingers push the fabric aside and slide between the folds of her pussy, teasing your way inside before sinking into her at once.
You both moan at the contact, and you don't let Wanda escape your tongue, kissing her as you finger her tight cunt, in and out, curling your fingers in a way that gives her no choice but to moan into your mouth, unable to match the kiss with the build of her orgasm.
It didn't take long to arrive - and you held her by the waist with one hand, the other with your fingers buried deep inside her, fucking her as she spilled herself into your fingerprints, squirming and moaning against your mouth, two satisfied breathless smiles forming.
You almost gave up looking for a more comfortable place, aware of the throbbing inside your own pants, but Wanda gave a gentle tug on your hand, signaling for you to withdraw your fingers for the overstimulation. She kissed you, intense and passionate, before putting a little more distance between you, breathing out of rhythm as you did.
"Let's go home, detka." She asks on a sigh. "I want to taste you."
No chance of you refusing that.
–//–
Wanda could hardly believe this was happening.
You, in her bed - well, your bed by semantics - squirming against the pillows over her touch. She was making you feel like this. So hot and needy and horny. And it wasn't even for the first time.
You did it a few times now, it was already dark outside. Still, you didn't get tired of her. She was even less tired of you. She was addicted, to your smell, your taste, and the sounds you make.
"Babe, fuck, right there..." You moaned with your hands grabbing the sheets, your eyes closed. Wanda slid her tongue deep inside you, drinking your juices as you came in a whimper, and was surprised when the instinctive movement of her hips against the bed combined to bring you to high, brought her climax too. She grunted against your intimacy, feeling herself dripping down her own thighs. "Wands, come here."
She moved leisurely, marking your body with hard kisses that made you sigh. Wanda lay on top of you, and your hands went to her waist, hugging her.
You kissed her on the mouth, moaning to your own taste on her tongue, and Wanda was considering returning to your pussy when you spun her around on the bed and got a surprised giggle from her.
The kiss intensified before subsiding until you ended up with your faces close together, noses touching and bodies embraced. Your hand on her waist, and one of hers on your face, tracing your skin.
There is this long moment of silence. Just the two of you, breathing together and enjoying each other's warmth. The curfew rings low outside your dormitory, which is filled with the voices of the other girls, returning to their rooms, and you sigh lightly, hugging Wanda a little tighter.
"Can we stay here? Like, just stay. Forever." You ask her with a sigh, blinking your eyes open at her. Wanda smiles, putting her hand on your cheek.
"Not forever, detka." She whispers back, brushing her nose against yours. Before you can be disappointed, she adds. "One day we'll have our own bed."
You close your eyes, smiling. "Yeah?"
"I'll probably have to get a job first though." She jokes, and you laugh softly, hiding your face in her neck.
"I can totally be the home provider. I have an inheritance, you know."
Wanda chuckles lightly, adjusting to prop her elbow on the bed. You lay your head on the pillow, opening your eyes to her, and look at her so passionately that she feels her cheeks warm.
"I probably have one too, if I ever talk to my parents again." She murmurs, and you swallow dryly, watching the change in her posture, only for her to shake her head slightly, and force a smile. "Sorry, for ruining the mood. Come here-"
"Don't do that." You interrupted her gently, pulling away as she went to kiss you. Adjusting your body, you mimicked her elbow support position and gestured a finger between you. "This is incredible, Wands. The sex I say. But you and I are friends first and foremost, we talk to each other. You can talk to me about anything, always. I'm right here for you, and I'm not going anywhere. Ever again."
Wanda swallows dryly, and this time when she comes closer, you don't pull away. You kiss her back with intensity, and she breaks away to look into your eyes.
"I'm here too, you know. You can tell me everything." She retorts softly, and you smile, one hand moving down to her thigh, where your fingers caress her skin.
"And what do you want to know?" You return casually, and Wanda gives a weak laugh before assuming a thoughtful expression for a moment.
"For starters, why Stark and not Rogers?" She asks surprising you a little. Wanda shrugs her shoulders. "You grew up being Captain Rogers' daughter, but I've seen you correct Rach about that. Why?"
You sigh slightly, looking away from her face for a moment. "It's kind of silly, but I just... well, my dad married Peggy, you know? And they had the twins and-"
"Wait, what?" Wanda cuts in surprise. "You have siblings?"
It's your turn to laugh. "Yeah... sorry, I didn't mention that before, did I?"
Wanda gives you a gentle slap on the shoulder. "Y/N! That's the kind of news you tell your best friend!"
You chuckle again, kissing her cheeks. "Sorry, baby, I didn't know how to include this in the conversation really. It seemed silly for me to come in saying 'hey I have siblings that I don't really talk to, but they're there.'"
Wanda stares at you intensely, studying your expression. "You don't get along with them?"
Shrugging, you move to lie down beside her, pulling a sheet over you. Wanda turns her body toward you, as you do to her, face to face.
"It's not like that." You begin to explain. "They're kids, there's no way to not get along with them yet. Peggy got pregnant shortly after my father got worse. I wasn't in England anymore, I didn't even see them being born or staying around much. And I was in New York for two years, you know? I think I became Y/N Stark, much more than I was a Rogers. When I went back to England, after Dad died, I didn't even feel at home anymore. It was strange. To feel like an intruder in your own family."
"Babe, I'm sorry." She says sincerely, but you smile at her.
"Don't worry, honey." You say. "It wasn't anyone's fault. Peggy is great, really. And they're really sweet, James and Sarah, the twins, I say. They're very sweet kids. But, I don't know, the Rogers family already seemed complete. And I really missed Tony. I think the last name, and the tattoo was my way of keeping him with me."
Wanda nods in understanding, her gaze falling to your naked torso. She pulls the sheet down but lets her fingers move up to the tattoo in the middle of your chest.
Her fingers trace the small circle and the letters before she looks up at you. "As I said before, it's as morbid as it is beautiful."
You chuckle lightly, giving her a gentle pinch on the hip. "What about yours? I still don't understand what the drawing means."
Wanda shrugs and turns her back to you so that you can look at the tattoo more closely. Your finger traces the design immediately, outlining every detail.
"Can you guess what it is?" she asks with her eyes closed, appreciating your touch.
You sigh slightly. "It looks kind of mystical, like a demon. Maybe an angel? I see a crown."
She laughs lightly, shaking her head. "It's a witch."
"Huh. Cool." You mutter, tracing your fingers upward on the drawing. "It's really quite pretty. It even has a planet in here. How did you get the idea?"
She shrugs her shoulders. "I don't really know, I think I dreamed up the design. I took it to the tattoo artist, and it was done."
"Do you still draw? Like when we were kids?"
"No, not really." She murmurs. "Not since Pietro."
You move your arm under the pillow where her head is resting, and the other goes to her waist. Your torso presses against her back and your lips kiss her shoulder. "Got it." You murmur, hugging her.
Wanda relaxes into your embrace, and you close your eyes as you rest your face on the crease of her neck.
384 notes
·
View notes
Text
let's see what you guys decide for this lol
i'm happy to see people are interested in what i last posted about fairytale au! tyyy guyss :DD
now... i'm debating on something. Should I make this genshin fairytale au just one series or make it into a series with separate stories... uhh, how do i say this... something like a cabinet of curiosities where there are many stories in the show that are different than the last. in here, i could focus on one fairytale with a love interest and then there will be another genshin fairytale au that is focused on a different fairytale with a different love interest (i hope this make senses idk how else i could explain it lol) kinda like imagines for tumblr :D (and yes, obviously, either way, this is going to be a reader insert)
(if you guys still don't get it, just let me know in the comments or ask me anonymously and I'll answer it to the best of my dumbass abilities lol)
#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x you#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#genshin#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche x reader#lyney x reader#genshin imagines#wriothesley x reader#neuvilette x reader#zhongli x reader#xiao x reader#kazuha x reader#cyno x reader#childe x reader#kaeya x reader#kaveh x reader#alhaitham x reader
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
>> pt.2 of canon-divergent coryo-stays-with-lucy-gray-in-12 au (a mouthful but i honestly have no title for it), albeit more lucy gray and more everlark
part 1
"There you are, sweet pea." Nana Lucy Gray greeted me as soon as I entered her workshop: a little cabin studio located behind the main house. There were materials strewn over the wooden floor boards, tucked into cabinets and on top of drawers. Remnants of unfinished projects lined the window sill and crowded the table— the ones she did finish were all inside the house, both displayed and used. She was seated in front of an unfinished canvas. She turned to me with a teasing smile. "I was startin' to wonder if you'd come back last night. Thought that baker boy might've whisked you off."
My expression soured. "Grandpa told you, didn't he?"
"Course he did. Coryo can't keep secrets from me." She returned to her canvas, splashing the surface with a mish mash of colors. The hues were too discordant for my liking, but of course I didn't tell her that. After a few moments, she spoke again. "He seems nice, y'know— the Peeta boy. Reminds me a bit of your grandfather when he was younger, very charming."
"Yeah," I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess he is."
"You like him enough, darlin'?"
"What does that even mean?" I picked at the splatters of dried paint on the table. Why was everyone suddenly pushing the Peeta Mellark agenda on me? Madge nudging me towards him, Delly calling us lovebirds, Jo suggesting we make out, Finnick giving us knowing looks. What if all their actions were actually making Peeta uncomfortable?
"Like him enough to date him?"
I looked up when I felt her eyes on me. She had a glint behind them, but also a hint of curiosity. I avoided her gaze almost immediately. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it."
Lies. All lies. I have thought about it, over and over in fact. I've thought about it enough to know that I'd yearn for it, for him. Peeta was the constant crux of every silly little daydream I've had since I met him.
"Well, no one's rushin' you anyway." Nan shrugged her shoulders. "You're barely sixteen."
I didn't respond. She asked me another question. "Does he like you?"
"I don't know, nan. I'm not sure. I think he does." Or maybe I'm just delusional. Again, I hindered myself from saying the last part out loud. Nan didn't need to know that. Still, I blushed. I wasn't prepared for how blunt the question was.
"Why d'you think he does?"
"He gives me bread." I responded. Now that I've said it out in the open, I realized how foolish it sounded. So what if he gave me bread? His family owns a literal bakery, of course he's gonna give me bread… platonically.
Nan looked back at me, and I could tell she was trying so hard to be open-minded about my lackluster response. "That's adorable."
I cleared my throat uncomfortably, feeling slightly embarrassed. I could see the image slowly forming on the canvas she was painting on. The colors made much more sense now. "That looks pretty."
"Does it?" She hummed. "I'm trying to paint some of the mountains I used to play in when I was a child."
Before I could speak any further, there was a knock on the door. The hinges creaked with age as they were pushed open. grandpa entered carrying a paper bag with the Mellark family bakery's signage printed up front.
"The baker boy is at the front door waiting for you." grandpa told me off-handedly. He opened the paper bag, pulling out two rolls. He handed one to Nan and ate the other.
I rushed to the porch immediately, running through the narrow strip of land between the wall and the fence instead of going inside for a quicker route.
Peeta turned to face me just as I reached the front steps. It's humiliating to admit how quickly I blushed when I saw him. His hair shined golden in the winter sun. He held up a hand to keep the glare away from his eyes, but enough light filtered through his fingers to make his eyelashes shine just as prettily.
"Katniss, hey." He grinned.
I walked closer. I tucked my hair behind my ear. "Hi. I wasn't expecting to see you."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Had to cover for my brother so I had to handle all the deliveries on this side of town."
"Ah," I nodded my head thoughtfully. "I'm glad my grandpa didn't scare you off."
"Not at all. Mr. Snow's nice." He shook his head. As if he just remembered something, he dug into his bag and pulled out a simple paper bag. It has a little note attached to it. "A thank you for hanging out with me last night."
When Peeta left, I rushed inside the house and up my bedroom. I opened the paper bag and inhaled the scent of cheese buns. Whilst I busied myself with eating, I unfolded the note attached. It was an illustration of a cluster of yellow dandelions held together by a green ribbon. On the corner of the page, in Peeta's messy scrawl, it said: "I hope this will last you until spring."
Uncharacteristically, I squealed so loudly that grandpa came knocking on my door a minute later. He peaked in from the door frame, his eyes closed after I once chastised him about a teenage girl needing her privacy inside a household.
"What's wong?" Always one for reigning in his composure, he asked calmly. His nostrils flared. "Is there a snake?"
Prim, who noticed the commotion from her room across the hall, stood behind grandpa. She noticed the paperbag on the desk and the note in my hand then smiled purposefully. I heard her mutter a "Finally." before pulling grandpa out of the doorway.
#thg#the hunger games#thg series#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#lucy gray x coriolanus#coriolanus snow#lucy gray baird#katniss x peeta#everlark#snowbaird
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Orange is the last of us pt 2
Tlou fic based on oitnb
Summary: after abby got released from prison your resentment builds
Tags: prison au, femme reader, y/n, angst
Word count: 1702
Pt 1:
Divider @cafekitsune
Weeks and weeks go by and the letters keep coming in from abby. You can't bring yourself to read them. Maybe you do hold grudges after all. When you look at the envelopes all you can think is she got to walk free and you're still stuck in this piece of shit with stale air that lingers and agony oozing from the walls. It's not fair but that's life. You wouldn't wish her to come back to the personification of hell though. You wouldn't wish prison on your worst enemy. A part of you wants to read the letters she sends though. Gross curiosity about how she's doing. They taunt you.
“y/n mails here” a guard hands you an envelope and it's another letter from abby. This time instead of shoving it in the endless pile in your cabinet you bring it to the cafeteria at dinner to ask Ellie about it. They have history too and maybe she'll give you some advice.
***************
“If i can guess what the letter says it probably says *speaking in deep voice* hey babe miss you now lemme eat your pussy” ellie makes a v with her fingers and brings it to her mouth to make a crude gesture
“I’m fucking serious ellie. I don't know what to do. I want to know if shes ok but i also dont give a fuck.” you groan
“Well which feeling is stronger? Your love or your resentment?”
And with that question you knew what you had to do
****************
Later that night you end up reading the letter she sent. You take a deep breath to settle your nerves. Your hands are shaking as you take the letter out from the envelope.
Dear y/n,
You probably aren't opening these or if you are, i'm sure you don't really want to hear what i have to say. I doubt if th tables were turned that i would be reading this, but on the off chance that you are still reading, i want to try and explain myself which is difficult in a letter and would be so much easier face to face (even though im terrified that theyll lock me up if i step foot in there) i know that the situation in chicago seems fucked, but i promise i was protecting you.
There was a lot going on that I wasn't able to talk to you about and if I had had even a moment alone with you before the trial, I swear I would have been completely open and honest.
The last thing I want after everything we have been through is for you to feel lied to, or used in any way y/n, i promise.
I love you,
Abby xoxo
You sit there with your mouth agape.She wants to meet in person? What else can she even say? The next morning you ask your counsellor to add Abby to your visitors list. You wanna hear what she has to say. But you also miss having her in the same room as you. You miss sneaking touches under the table and kisses at night. You even miss your mundane conversations. She has a way of making you soft.
Couple days later you call Abby to arrange a Sunday for her to come up and see you. You're nervous but also excited to see her again.
****************
That sunday you walk into the visitation room and there she is, sitting at the middle table and she catches your eye. You see a sparkle that wasn't there before and you're happy for her as much as you don't want to be. You give her a quick hug (which got you yelled at) and you sit across from her. Shes wearing that grey sweater that makes her muscles look so fucking good. It's your favorite sweater she owns.
“This is totally weird but, i'm in the wrong outfit”
“I like your sweater.” you reach out to touch her buff arms to just feel that she's real
“Its soft…like your resolve when you're offered a plea deal” you snided
“It came down at the very last minute, y/n. Abby sighed “And they promised me it would put Kubo away for good.”
“But it made me a perjurer and you a free woman.”
“I thought you were gonna tell the truth!” abby yelled
“And I thought you were gonna lie!” you yelled back
“What are we in a fucking novel or something?” Abby said this made you both chuckle.
“It's good to see your face”
You shake your head “I don't know what to say.”
“You have every right to be angry.” abby sits back in her chair and crosses her arms
“I don't know if I'm angry. I'm confused…by you.”
Abby chuckles “I'm confused by me, too. I'm pretty much the master of handling things completely wrong.”
“Well that's an understatement” you say flatly
“Im a fuck-up. And now i get to be a fuck-up in a shithole apartment in Queens. Too afraid to even open my curtains.” abby looks around the room and whispers
“I sleep with a gun.”
“You what?! Abby , what the hell? You're on probation.”
“There is a van parked outside my apartment everyday. He's trying to scare me. I wanna go out there with a baseball bat and smash the fucking windows in.” abby looks scared and defeated
“I should honestly start dealing again”
You look at her in disbelief
“Find a bigger, tougher new kingpin who can beat up my old kingpin”
“That's not funny” you say worryingly
“It's not a joke. What am I qualified to do? Huh? I have…I have no job. I'm scared shitless to leave my apartment. I got so used to sleeping with the lights on that I'm freaked out by the dark. My probation officer, Robert Hill, is a fucking joke. Bobby fucking Hill is my probation officer.” you guys both laugh
“King of the hill?”
“King of sitting on his fat fucking ass eating Little Debbies, hoping to bust me for some stupid infraction.” abby sighs and looks down at the table
“You'd think that part of his job would be to protect his probbies, you know?...Nobody gives a shit about ex-cons.” abby said defeated
“What are you gonna do?”
Abby sighs and presses her lips together “i'm skipping town”
“You can't”
“I don't have a choice. These people know where I live. That's why I wanted to see you. When I go, I can't come back. I have to disappear.”
You feel a sting hit the back of your eyes and everything sounds muffled.
“You- you can't leave me.” you say desperately
“y/n, i'm in danger i have no choice”
“But i dont have anyone left…”
We stare at each other, wishing it didn't have to be this way.
“I'm sorry y/n. I'm sorry for all of it. I know my track record id shit…but I really do love you.”
“Yeah well, I hate you.”
“No, you don't.”
You look down at the table to hide your tears ``no… no i don't.”
“Visiting hours are over!” a guard yells and when you get up to leave you look at her one last time because you might never be able to again.
***************
For the rest of the day you worry for abby. She can't be serious right? Skipping town is not the best idea but is it the only way to keep her away from Kubo and his minions? You have an idea to keep Abby from danger but it involves calling your ex fiance who slept with your best friend. He could have slept with anyone but he chose your best friend. Asshole. But he owes you at least this favor to make up for it. You would've said you were even and let it go if he didnt sleep with your best friend.
“Hey y/n” Barry picks up the phone
“Hey are you alone right now?”
“No im with holly and you're on speaker phone” holly says hi
“Ugh great, I need a favour.”
“Depends on what it is”
“I need you to call abby's parole officer and tell him shes breaking her parole”
“Why would I do that?”
“I giving you a chance to fuck over someone you hate.”
There's silence on the other end
“Fine if you won't do it holly will you?”
“Sure whats the name of her parole officer”
“Robert Hill. He works for the DOC in Queens.”
You hang up the phone cause you really dont wanna be talking to them longer than you have to. At least the plan is in motion. It might seem a little selfish and you feel a tinge of guilt but with this plan at least you know she'll be safe. You can't let her skip town, start dealing again, or have Kubo find her. So you decide to be selfish. You wish it didn't come down to this. No one deserves to be in this cease pool, especially abby. You'll be taking this to your grave.
****************
You're working outside today setting up for a mothers day event and the sunshine feels good on your face. The closest to freedom you have.
“Your little girlfriend is back” ellie says to me teasing
“Wha- what do you mean?”
“Yeah I saw her walking to her bunk from the intake. She looks beat up”
“I-I gotta go see her!” you start to walk away
“Inmate, get back here! You can't leave during work!” a guard yells and I slowly walk back with my hands up in surrender.
“You'll see her around. It's not like she's going anywhere.” ellie said
*************
After work you go back to your bunk and see that the bed is finally occupied. Could this be Abby's stuff? That has to be a coincidence right? Many girls get processed through here everyday. What are the odds this is her stuff?
“We gotta stop meeting like this” a voice behind you says.
It's Abby. Fucking. Anderson.
#abby x reader#abby anderson#abby anderson fanfic#abby tlou#abby x y/n#abby x fem!reader#prison au#fanfic#orange is the new black au#fanfiction#abby fanfiction#tlou fic#abby the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#angst#part 2
104 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
dick-sprinkles
独行道
myricardomorais
Sem título
juicyc0utur3
lindsay lohan/j
elevenclaras
i actually do have one regret