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nctsworld · 9 months

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fever pitch

✩‌ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k

SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.

WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!

RATING | mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!

TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen

Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.

Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.

Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—

Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.

But one in particular catches your eye.

Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.

In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.

You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.

And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.

Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.

“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.

Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.

Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”

Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”

Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.

“Want your usual?”

“Yes, please!”

However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—

“WATCH OUT!”

With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.

“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”

You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”

“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”

Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.

“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”

You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.

Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”

Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.

Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.

“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”

“How would I know how to reach out to you?”

He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”

You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?

“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”

His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”

“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.

“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”

Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”

He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.

“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”

At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”

Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.

Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.

While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”

Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”

Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.

“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”

Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.

Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.

“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”

When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”

He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”

You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.

“Your head good though?”

You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”

In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”

Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again.

But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.

On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?

Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”

Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”

“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”

“Okay, okay.”

Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.

And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.

“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”

The camera’s now on Mark’s face.

The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.

He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.

From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.

Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.

He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.

Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.

All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.

“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”

Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.

Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”

Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?

“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.

But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.

The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow.

You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.

Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.

Because for you, it’s game time.

Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?

The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.

As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.

This is perfect timing for you too.

However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—

And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.

Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else.

But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.

Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.

“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”

His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”

He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.

“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”

At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.

Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”

“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”

After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”

You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles.

Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”

“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.

“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”

“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”

“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck.

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”

“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”

This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market.

“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”

Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”

“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”

As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”

“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”

Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”

“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm.

Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually.

“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”

Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh.

“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.

Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark.

“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.

“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.

After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.

“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.

“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.

He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.

“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”

“Yes, definitely!”

Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.

“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.

Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.

“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.

Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.

“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”

After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.

As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.

In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.

He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.

Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.

“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”

After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.

You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.

Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.

He twists around with his visor open.

“Ready?”

You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.

Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.

On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.

In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.

Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.

The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.

Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.

However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.

You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.

The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.

By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.

When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.

Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.

“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”

As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.

Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.

Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.

“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”

“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.

After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”

Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”

He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.

“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”

Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.

Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.

He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...

Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.

You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.

And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.

Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.

An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.

You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.

“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”

“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”

The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.

At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.

Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.

Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.

The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.

His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).

It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.

Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.

Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.

Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.

Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.

“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”

It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”

He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.

“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.

“Neither do I.”

And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.

Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.

He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.

When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”

You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.

It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.

“Mark, please, just—”

Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.

The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.

Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.

With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.

As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.

“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.

“Huh?”

“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.

You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”

“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.

“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”

Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.

His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.

You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.

Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.

But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”

Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”

Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.

“You close?”

You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.

It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”

Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.

When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.

“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”

“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”

In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.

Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.

Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.

God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...

“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”

He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”

You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.

Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.

Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.

More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.

As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.

Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.

“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.

But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.

“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.

“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”

You hesitate with closed eyes.

“Could I... ride your arm?”

Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.

“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.

Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”

“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”

“Yeah?”

Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”

Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.

Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”

He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”

You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.

Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.

His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.

“This okay still?” you breathe.

“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”

You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.

“Oh, God,” Mark pants.

You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.

“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”

It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.

Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.

Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.

Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.

The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.

Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.

He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.

At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.

He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.

Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.

As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.

There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...

And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...

It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.

He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.

Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.

EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER

Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.

Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.

With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.

“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.

The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”

“Oh, my God, Chenle...”

“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”

You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”

“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.

Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.

Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.

“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.

“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”

Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”

“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”

Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”

“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”

You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.

“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”

In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.

After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”

You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.

“And you have me,” you add jokingly.

He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”

The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.

Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.

Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.

You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.

You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.

That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...

Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.

But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.

And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.

He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:

“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."

Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.

Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.

All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.

You immediately say yes.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark lee fanfic #nct smut #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #yn brainrot

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em1e · 11 months

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万次郎 // GIVEN THE CHOICE ⠀ ༝ ༝ bonten!mikey ⠀ ༝ ༝ 8.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ big brother!draken, mentions of violence, character death, manga spoilers, pregnancy, angst, suggestive?, implied fem!reader but no pronouns. ⠀ — you've always liked mikey growing up. how do you tell him years down the line that you've had his kid?

there’s not much to say about being the younger sibling to draken.

even less about his delinquent friends he seemed to follow around like a puppy.

but you could say a lot about his friend mikey. self-proclaimed leader at the age of eleven, you watched from the sidelines as he became the true leader of his silly group toman, saw how it’d develop to something more as you grow older.

and as the years pass, you become more acquainted with those same people he’s always around - namely one baji keisuke, who made it very apparent from the start he wanted to be your friend because ‘only cool guys have a weak best friend’ and apparently no one else in toman was weak.

days turn to weeks turn to years with you in their shadow, but you’ve never seemed to mind.

you enjoy your view from the sidelines.

“you can’t tell anyone.” you warn baji with a finger pointed in his direction, eyes narrowed as if that could somehow make your threat more lethal.

he holds his hands up in mock-defense, taking a step away with his shoulders slouched, “you have my word.”

you look away from him, arms crossing over your chest as you answer.

“sorry?” he tilts his head, leaning forward, “didn’t quite catch that.”

you feel yourself flush, hiding your face to mumble the reply, “mikey.”

there’s a beat of silence for all of five seconds before he starts laughing.

“you have a crush on mikey? of all people?”

you shove him away from you when he leans against you for support, yet still manage to press your hand against his mouth because he’s so fucking loud, “quiet down,” you hiss out, “they’re supposed to be ‘round the corner, will you shut up?!”

“just think it’s funny how you ‘nd your brother have a thing for each of the sano siblings-”

“quiet!”

draken and mikey stumble upon you with a fist full of baji’s hair, the other hand pressed firmly against his mouth while he has his own shoving at your face to keep you away.

and that’s just how most days go - when they aren’t terrorizing the city, they’re bothering you for one reason or another.

until it isn’t.

until kazutora gets released from juvie and baji leaves you in the dust and then dies after. . . it’s a lot to take in, especially for someone so young - so close to someone who suddenly drops it on you that they want nothing to do with you, and then you hear during the aftermath from your brother that he was begging for you to forgive him, for you to take care of mikey, too, because someone has to.

until draken finds you curled in on yourself sobbing because even to the end, baji put other people above himself and it’s so fucking unfair that that’s how he meets his demise.

you stay in your room for a week without moving. it takes draken practically dragging you out of the space to get you into the world again, mikey at his side with a frown.

and maybe it’s from the mutual trauma of losing someone so close to you (despite it being a thousand times worse for mikey, since he was actively there at the scene), but you and mikey grow closer after baji’s death.

you make sure one another eats, that you’ve done your assignments on time, that you’re getting enough sleep, that you’re taking care of yourselves.

it stays like that for a while, you tucked behind mikey and draken like a secret, something no one else can touch or bother with emma at your side.

and then she dies, too.

her death was the breaking point for them, you think.

unexpected and quick and cruel that mikey had to watch her pass, the tensions eating away at them and bursting at the seams from the announcement of her death. when draken came back home with busted knuckles and tear-stained cheeks, it broke you because your big brother was supposed to be the strong one. a piece of you chipped away when he crumbled in your embrace, sobs wrecking through his body while you held him close.

the funeral isn’t any better, tensions still high, and draken steps away at the end when you move to talk to mikey.

you promise to check in on him when you can, pull him into a hug while offering your condolences, and when you separate he doesn’t look at you as he says his thanks.

when you make your way to draken, you will yourself to glance back at mikey and . . . he looks so small, standing beside his grandpa. unfocused on the people that come up, shake his hand with frowns, then leave. as if feeling your stare on him, he looks up to meet your gaze, and with such a small glance, you can see how heavily everything’s weighed down on him. how cruel the world has been to him, and how it remains unrelenting of punches.

he looks away before you do, and draken pulling you close to him by the shoulder to keep you from walking into someone draws your attention away from mikey.

weeks turn to months, passing without a hitch, and you do your best to check in on mikey when you can. some days you visit and his grandpa answers the door, turning you away because mikey’s out and he doesn’t know where he is - most days your texts and calls go unanswered.

ken later informs you toman’s disbanded and he isn’t sure what to do with himself. despite your best efforts, getting in contact with mikey becomes harder and harder, until it becomes an impossible feat altogether.

years pass with no contact - with everyone lives moving forward, with your brother owning his own bike shop and inupi coming to work with him, and you getting an insane job offer for your dream position. it’s crazy amazing for someone your age to see an opportunity like this, and you’re elated beyond belief by the proposition, except . . . it’s on the other side of japan.

you’d have to leave everything you’ve ever known for the chance of a lifetime, and it’s your brother who encourages you to take it.

“who knows if something like this could happen again,” he says with a smile, ruffling your hair in a way that big brothers do, “you’ll always have a home here to come to if things don’t pan out.”

you see everyone you can in the weeks before you leave, even manage to pin down mitsuya for coffee before he leaves for another exciting runway event in italy (you tease how you wish you’d be going there instead - he offers an invite once you’re settled in your new apartment).

the only person you couldn’t pinpoint a location for was . . . mikey.

despite your many calls to the old number you have stored in your phone, searching for him at his old childhood home, even asking draken and the other friends from his old gang - no one knew. you amaze yourself with your own detective skills, though, by some miracle able to find an address - you applaud yourself as you step to the door, double checking the apartment number matches what you have written down before you knock.

there’s a moment where you stand dumbly waiting for someone to open the door, and you think for a second maybe you have the wrong apartment, or maybe he’s not home, or -

there’s a click of the lock sounding, the door creaking open just enough for you to see the darkness inside.

you brighten when mikey peeks his head around the door, leaning against the frame and just . . . staring, expression unreadable.

“hi . . .” you breath out, “’ve been lookin’ for you.”

“that spells trouble.” he says without missing a beat, looking down both ends of the hall before he pushes the door open further. an invitation to enter, one you take gratefully.

“for who?” you can’t help but tease, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you spin to face him closing the door, “me? or you?”

“depends on how this goes.” he shrugs, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

you don't take his words as the threat they are, smile still as bright as when he first pulled open the door, “how have you been? it’s been a while.”

“‘ve been better,” he looks away from you, “definitely been worse.”

“wellll, “ you spin on your heel to get a look at his apartment, reaching for the wall where the lightswitch sits and flipping them on, “what have you been up to? s’nice apartment, even better with the lights on.” you chastise lightly, making yourself at home somewhere you surely could never consider it to be.

when you turn back to face him, he’s already behind you, hand on your wrist, still touching the switch.

“what do you want, (y/n)?” he asks. your gaze softens on him, now able to take in the light bags under his eyes, the way his frame is smaller than you remember.

“to talk,” you answer gingerly, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “to see you and know you’re not dead in a ditch in roppongi.”

“you can clearly see i’m not, s’there more?, ” the words leave his lips bitterly, contrasting how his eyes flutter closed, how he leans into your touch.

“‘m moving pretty far,” you add after a moment of silence, “otherside of japan. just wanted to see you’re okay before i leave.” your thumb rubs gentle circles into his cheek, head tilting when his eyes snap open at the admission.

“what for?” he pries, and the way he asks reminds you of when you were kids; when he’d beg and beg and beg to play with the toy you were already playing with if only for the fact that you were playing with it, how he’d whine and pout until you relented because you couldn’t stand the idea of him being upset with you.

“a job,” you’re completely transparent as you answer, “‘the opportunity of a lifetime’. it felt . . . i dunno, wrong? to not share the good news with you-mph?”

you're silenced by him suddenly pulling you to him, lips pressed to your own with his hands cupping your cheeks, and truth be told it’s everything fourteen-year-old you dreamed of and more. everything you ever wanted in life kissing you in his apartment before you go miles and miles away to start a completely different dream and it hurts.

but you don’t have it in you to push him away, not when he presses you against the wall to deepen the kiss, or when he pulls your clothes off of you with a desperation that leaves you whining and begging, or when he guides you to his bedroom and continues his affection that holds the passion and emotion that’d been buried under fifteen years of dirt. he brings out each skeleton from the closet with every thrust until the both of you are spent, laying naked in each other’s embrace until you fall asleep.

it’s surprising, almost, to wake up the next morning alone in a bed that isn’t yours.

there’s no sign of mikey when you look around the apartment, the only tell of him even staying in the form of a stack of cash with a note in his familiar handwriting left on the kitchen counter.

hope this helps you get started in the new city. - mikey

a number sits in a smaller font under the note, in even smaller writing it says for emergencies, use this number.

it feels weird, taking the money with no way to show your appreciation, so you rip a small corner from the paper and write your thanks out, the promise of visiting him soon when you’re back in town added with a heart at the end of your note.

two days later, and you’re driving to a new city with your entire life packed in suitcases and boxes - a moving truck scheduled to deliver your belongings a day after you get to your apartment.

almost two months pass, and you find you’re settling well; everyone at the company adores you, and the building your apartment’s in sits across from a nice ramen shop that you like to go to every tuesday night after you get paid.

you come down with a stomach bug, one you can’t seem to shake, and after a week of calling out and forcing yourself to work despite being exhausted and crabby and ill, you go to the doctor.

imagine your surprise when he tells you you’re fucking pregnant.

two months, in fact, proven with the sonogram he sets you up with, and you’re calling your brother in hysterics in your car when the appointment is over.

“pregnant?” he repeats over the phone, after taking the first five minutes of the call just trying to calm you down, “by who?”

you’re chewing your lip raw as you answer, “mikey . . .”

there’s a beat of silence, before you’re whispering out, “‘m scared, ken. i-i’m miles from home and-and i just started this job and i don’t even know if i can take care of a baby on my own-”

“you’re gonna keep it?” he asks, tone genuine.

“i . . . yeah, i think so - i-i mean, i want to . . . is that stupid? is that a stupid want for me to have?” your lip wobbles waiting for his answer.

“no, but . . . s’lot of work, (y/n). if it’s something you do want, you know i’ll support you in any way i can, you just gotta tell me how to help.”

“i wan’a come home.” you settle, and the way the words leave your lips remind you of a child, begging a parent for something so small when this is anything but.

“we can do that,” draken promises, “i’ll get a flight and help you pack or get inupi to ride with me. we’ll figure it all out, don’t stress.”

you sniffle, wiping at your face hastily, “kay . . . okay. thank you ken.”

“f’course,” you can hear the smile in his voice over the phone, “s’what big brother’s are for.”

and the next few weeks are filled with moving your life back home, with the help of draken and inupi. the people at your job are nothing but happy at the news for you, despite being sad to see you go - they wish you the best in life, though, and even offer another position to apply if you ever decide to come back to the area. it’s sweet, really.

you move into draken’s house and have a healthy baby boy that looks so much like mikey, you think it might kill you. you name him shin.

he makes you promise to not try to seek out mikey one night, after you’d rocked shin to sleep and put him down in his crib.

“no one knows what he’s been up to,” he argues quietly when your brows furrow at the demand, “and frankly, the few ties i still have with gangs make me worried from what little things they tell me.”

“but those could just be rumors,” you frown, “he deserves to know he has a kid.”

“it’s dangerous, (y/n).” draken settles with the finality of a parent telling their kid they can’t have another cookie, “‘m serious. don’t try to contact him.”

despite the weight the conversation holds, you can’t help but stick your tongue out at him childishly. something he returns, only to narrowly dodge the stuffed animal you throw his way in opposition.

and though the warnings loom in the air, you can’t help but try to let mikey know - calling the number he left countless times, trying to use your rusty detective skills that aided you in finding him almost a year ago, just trying to make him aware that you had his son.

you don’t seek child support, or demand otherworldly things that a parent could only dream of (a rocking chair that massages your back and automatically rocks? you drool at the thought), you just feel it’s something he deserves to know. something he should be given a choice to be a part of.

except he’s known since you moved back.

it was a difficult task, keeping tabs on you when you were so far away, but he knew from the day you settled into draken’s home by word of mouth from koko. it must’ve been a punishment for koko, to check in on all of their friend’s from their pasts, to make sure their lives are going how they want them to and make sure everyone is happy.

mikey couldn’t stomach the photos koko would offer, waving them away and requesting the verbal update instead, and when your son is born, he’s only informed that there’s no father on the birth certificate. your attempts to contact him died in vein, the number he gave you belonging to an old throw away phone he got rid of a week after he left it with you. he didn’t think you’d ever need it.

three years pass, and koko would be damned to say the kid doesn't look like a photocopy of mikey. wild blond hair, all bright eyed and sweet.

you work at a diner now, usually leave shin with draken and inupi for your nightshift and ken takes him home when he’s done at the garage.

it’s cute, the way they interact with him - they let him get in the way of their work, careful so he doesn’t get hurt, but allow his curiosity and grubby hands grab hold of tools and bolts and pieces they need.

you're not overly fond of letting shin have his way with whatever he can pinch between his fingers, since usually whatever he does find ends up in his mouth like a chew toy, but ken and inupi tease you for being too overprotective.

you still live with ken, despite insisting the need to get out of his hair, but he promises it’s okay to take your time since he adores his nephew and doesn’t mind helping, and inupi’s became a good friend by proxy.

it’s rare for you and your brother to argue, especially in front of shin, and truly you’re not sure what sparked the conversation in the first place - all you know is you’re upset.

“inupi, tell my brother it’s unfair for mikey to not know he has a kid.”

“inui, tell my sibling if mikey wanted to be involved, he would be. simple as that.”

“we don’t even know if he knows,” you groan out, leaving inupi to hold up his hands defensively.

“i have no argument in this.” is all he offers.

“but you have some insight, “ you counter, kneeling down when shin tugs on your pants, “you know the story-”

“i’m just sayin’ you’ve tried for three years-” draken starts.

“four.”

“-four years, “ he continues, “and you’ve gotten nothing. i don’t see a need for you to continue if you’ve come up empty handed for so long.”

“because, ken-”

shin’s lip wobbles for a second before he bursts into tears, gripping the front of your shirt until you’re shushing him and pulling you towards him in a hug, “shhh, baby, it’s okay. what’s wrong?”

he continues to cry despite you rocking him, and it takes draken pulling him out of your arms while tickling his sides to make him stop.

“prob’ly didn’t like the arguing.” inupi comments, dodging a wrench you throw his way with a glare.

“we’ll talk about this later,” you sigh out, standing on your toes to squeeze shin’s cheeks, “i love, love, love you.” you emphasize each ‘love’ with a kiss to his chubby cheeks, happy to hear his crying replaced with giggles and incoherent toddler babble.

your shift at work isn’t anything special - you have some regulars that come in at the odd hours of night, and by the end of your shift, you’re the last to leave; finishing out some paperwork the managers can’t be bothered to do despite getting paid far less than them to do it.

you fish your keys from your bag, unlock your car, ready to begin the short drive home but . . . your car won’t start.

of course it doesn’t. it’s an older model, one you were supposed to take to the scrap yard for a slightly newer model last month but couldn’t because shin unexpectedly got sick and you had to fork out some cash to make sure he got better.

you sigh, pop the hood of the vehicle as if maybe some of your brother’s knowledge of mechanics could somehow transfer to you, and call the aforementioned male.

it rings. . . and rings . . and rings. no answer.

you try again.

nothing.

you kick at the front bumper in frustration, running a hand over your face in search of another contact. surely inupi is awake at two in the morning, right?

the call rings out, and you’re really worried it’s going straight to voicemail for a second, but he picks up on seemingly the last buzz, “hello?” he sounds groggy, like you did just wake him up. you don’t have time to dwell on the thought when a group of guys appear from the sidewalk, spotting and attempting to talk to you in one breath.

“car won’t start?” one asks, nudging his friend as they make their way closer to you, “we can help.”

you turn away from them, “hey inui, can you come get me from work? ken didn’t answer and my car won’t start.”

“hey.” the guys are much closer now, one stepping around to the front of the car while the other two stand off to your right, vying for your attention.

“yeah f’course. there other people around you?” there’s some shuffling from inupi’s end, like he’s getting out of bed.

“yeah. um, how long till you can be here?”

“ten? minutes maybe.” you swallow at the answer.

“great, i’ll see you in five.”

you pull the phone from your ear slightly, turning back to face the two guys to your right, “i don’t need any help, i have a friend on the way-”

there’s only a moment between you dismissing their assistance before the guy who was at the front of your car is shoving at your shoulder and pinning you to the side of your car, one hand pressed firmly to your mouth while the other squeezes your wrist until your phone falls from your hand and kicks it away.

you shove a hand at his face, trying to reach into your bag for your taser or pocket knife or a really sharp pencil when the guy moves his hand from your mouth to your throat, squeezing hard enough you’re sure it’ll bruise, while tearing your bag from your shoulder and throwing it to sit with your phone.

the smell of alcohol comes off of him in waves when he grins, leaning down to get a good look at you, “we can ‘elp ya,” he offers, “but not for free.”

your nails bite into the skin of his wrist, the need to breath overtaking every other sense desperately while you continue to kick and claw at him.

his grip only relents at the sound of a motorcycle idling in the parking lot, but the pressure of his hand still keeps you in place by the throat, head turning to address who could see fit to interrupt this ‘exchange’. the man on the bike adjusts the mask on his face, tucks his long platinum hair to the side, seeming to ignore the eyes on him.

“diner’s closed,” one of the other guys says, stepping towards the stranger, “and we’re kinda busy here ourselves-”

he doesn’t get the chance to really say what they’re doing when the guy steps off the bike and just swings.

his fist meets the guy's cheek with a harsh thwack while mumbling, “shouldn’t touch shit that doesn’t belong to you.”

the guy holding you up releases his grip completely, leaving you to drop to the ground when your legs buckle under your weight, frozen and left only watching as the two remaining men are taken down easily by your potential savior.

when the three stay unmoving on the ground, he crouches in front of you, adjusting the mask on his face once again while taking in your shaken form.

“you okay?” you don’t trust your voice, so you only nod, “is someone on the way to get you? or d’ya need a ride?”

you nod again, “i-inui’s coming.” you manage to whisper out, unable to catch the way his eyes widen slightly as he stands to his full height.

he begins to walk away, back to his motorcycle that’s still running, but his steps hesitate when you call out, “is that you, koko?”

he doesn’t turn to face you, doesn’t address if you’re correct in your assumption, “don’t worry ‘bout all this,” he says instead, “i’ll take care of it.”

and then he’s climbing onto his bike, pulling out of the parking lot less than a minute before inupi’s pulling into it.

you’re still on the ground when he rushes towards you to see if you’re okay, stepping over the unconscious bodies with little regard. you recount what happened, which inupi dismisses since he remained on the phone until he pulled into the parking lot.

“do . . . was it really koko?” he asks, helping you up from the cement and gathering the items that spilled from your bag, offering your now cracked phone to you with a frown.

“i’m not sure . . . i never really knew him like you did, “ you reach into your car to grab the important belongings and shove them in your bag, “it didn’t look like him but . . . it sounded like him. was his eyes, i think.”

inupi looks away at this, “so what do you wanna do? ‘bout these guys?”

you swallow, keeping your stare away from the three on the floor, “he said he'd take care of it and i don’t . . . i just wanna go home.”

“okay,” inui’s hand finds it place at the small of your back, guiding you gently to his bike and helping you on, “i’ll take you home.”

when inupi walks you through the foyer, draken’s in front of you the second the door falls shut.

you can see his worry in the crease of his brow, from the way he grabs your shoulders to give you a once-over and frowning at the way your neck seems to be irritated beyond belief, “are you okay? i-i had to put shin back to bed because he woke up ‘nd i didn’t have my phone on me but when tried calling back but you didn’t answer.”

“‘m okay . . .” you assure, peeling yourself away from him, “gonna go shower . . um, inui can tell you what happened.”

your voice is so small as you speak, ken can only nod and watch you disappear into the hall before he turns to inui, who delves into the story based on what he heard over the phone and what you told him when he arrived.

you scrub your skin raw in the shower, until it almost stings from how harsh you rub. you slip out of the bathroom quietly after, sneak your way into shin’s nursery and sit by his bed for just a second to decompress, rubbing the boys back softly while he sleeps.

the peace is disrupted by ken peeking his head around the door, “c’mon, we gotta talk ‘bout it.”

you almost pout, childlike, “do we have to?”

the look he gives you offers no leeway to argue, so you sigh and press a kiss to shin’s hair before standing, deciding now isn’t the time to start an argument.

inupi’s gone when you come out to the living room, tucking your legs under yourself as you sit on the couch with ken beside you.

you feel like a child they way you explain what happened, unable to look at him as you speak. ken visibly stiffens at the mention of the potential koko coming to your aid, interrupting you mid story to remind you, “you know it doesn’t matter that he helped you, right. you’re not gonna go out lookin’ for him or mikey or whoever else.”

you frown at his words, opening your mouth to argue but he shakes his head before you can, “no, (y/n), ‘m serious. it’s too dangerous.”

you look down, defeated, but nod your head, “okay . . . fine.”

and really, you had full intention to abide by the warning. but . . . your boss called you the next day, said something about the diner being closed for the next few days because of something you couldn’t be bothered to remember and that you’d still be paid for the lost hours.

the details don’t matter, really. you drop shin off with draken as usual, avoid mentioning the fact that you have the day off, and leave with the intent to use the next free hours just . . . looking. for koko or mikey or anyone who might know anything about either of them.

it’s stupid, you think, to search and pry so openly, bouncing from bars and clubs asking anyone who’ll listen, but within three hours, you’ve gathered the following;

mikey runs some big name gang. baton? batten? something.

he has some executives that help run his gang, some of which own a few of the clubs in the shiftier parts of the city – haitani’s? you think they’re called?

the haitani’s are close to koko, who’s close to mikey, and really that’s the only thing you need.

so you continue going from club to club, under the impression that apparently the haitani’s frequent their own clubs just about every night. you hear about a nicer club towards the edge of the city, one they favor to the other’s since the liquor is stronger and the girls are prettier – but these are all things you’ve heard from other people, so who knows how true it really is.

when you make it to the club, you wonder if your sundress is something considered to be ‘underdressed’. surely the juice stain on the front isn’t working in your favor as the bouncer gives you a once-over.

“yer lookin’ for who, now?” he asks, one brow raised with his arms crossed over his chest.

if you had any sense in you, you’d probably be scared of the way he eyes you down, but growing up around idiots who don’t know when to stop messing around has really ruined your fight or flight response.

“the haitani brothers..” you reply, mocking the way he crosses his arms over his chest, “i heard they sometimes come by here, i thought maybe-”

“you thought, huh?” his eyes rake over your form, and your arms shift protectively around yourself instead of mocking him, “well i think you should get outta here ‘fore you get hurt.”

“i just need to know if they’re here-”

he turns away from you with a hand pressed to the earpiece sitting in his ear, looking into the building before he turns to face you again with a squinted glare, “you sure they’re the right one? yeah. yeah. right. i’ll send ‘em up.”

he gestures towards the inside of the building, nodding his head, “straight ahead, up the stairs.”

with those instructions, you head towards the back of the club and find a set of stairs, separated by a velvet rope with another bouncer standing in front of it. as if expecting your arrival, he unhooks the rope from its place and steps aside, gesturing for you to follow the stairs up.

at the top of the stairs sits a closed door and when you push it open, peeking around it to get a look inside, you see a nice couch with two guys perched on them - one with a girl who you can assume is from the club sitting in his lap, while the other sips from the drink in his hand, eyeing you the second you’re past the threshold.

the one with the girl in his lap openly squeezes her ass, grinning at you when you look away quickly. he leans forward, whispering something in her ear, and she stands with a pout, practically glaring at you as she leaves.

the door clicks shut behind her, and you’re left in awkward silence with the thrum of music playing under your feet.

after a moment, the one with a drink in hand tilts his head at you, “what’s a pretty thing like you doin’, askin’ for us by name?”

“‘m lookin’ for koko . . .” you voice is smaller than you remember, making you almost cringe in on yourself at the way they eat it up.

“why’re ya lookin’ for our koko?”

“w-we’re friends.” you stutter out, “i just. . . need to talk to him.”

“where’d all that confidence go?” the one who had the girl in his lap tsks as he stands, “we heard you over his comms, you were practically demanding to talk to us - now you’re a stuttering lil’ mess. what happened between now and then?”

he stops in front of you, head tilted as he looms over you, “maybe you should get to know us first. ‘m ran, that’s rindou. thought we knew ‘bout all the nice things koko keeps hidden away.”

though he isn’t speaking to you for the last part, his eyes don’t leave you while they rake over your face, over your body. he reaches to cup your cheek, almost pouting at the way you flinch away from the contact with a frown.

“i’m just lookin’ for koko.” you settle with, leaning away from him.

ran actually does pout at this, bottom lip jutted out. “you’re tellin’ me we can’t have some fun before he gets here?”

“that’s exactly what they’re sayin’, actually.” someone says from behind you, and you jump when you’re being pulled away from ran by your upper arm. a glance behind you reveals the man you’ve been waiting for - koko, with his hair pulled neatly to the side and a scowl on his face.

ran grins at the sight of him, clapping his hands as if he wasn’t just making you uncomfortable. rindou just clicks his tongue.

“s’a shame you got here so quick. thought we’d have some time to get to know ‘em.”

“as if you’d try.” koko accuses, fingers digging into your skin, “you know he’d be pissed if you did anything.”

“who said anything ‘bout trying anything. just wanna know who’s got our dear boss so worked up all the time.”

instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reply, koko fully faces you with his eyes narrowing to further slits, “you must be crazy to come here, even crazier to ask around for us in the first place.”

“i need to see mikey,” you frown, “was the only way i could think of since it was you that showed up the other day, right?”

you can see the way he clenches his jaw, muscles tight, “doesn’t matter. do you know how dangerous it was for you to ask around for us? mikey isn’t someone you can just see anyways-”

“why can’t they?” rindou, seemingly the only sensible guy in the room, questions, “they wanna talk to ‘im, he’d only be one call away.”

“you know why.” koko snaps, heavy weight of his glare moving from you to the male, “we can’t just-”

ran’s phone rings from his pocket, effectively silencing koko mid sentence, and when he pulls it out, he waves it in front of koko with a sharp-toothed grin, “speak of the devil.”

you open your mouth to ask, maybe even demand the phone from ran as he answers, but a sharp squeeze to your arm from koko leaves you quiet - a silent warning heard loud and clear.

don’t say a word.

ran’s eyes rake over your form as he answers, licking his lips like you could be his next meal, “yeah? he just got here. no, i would never! i’m offended you think i would,” whatever mikey’s saying has him grinning like a schoolgirl, gaze moving from you to koko, “if ya wanted to talk to him, why didn’t you call him. yeah, whatever, whatever, fine.”

he offers the phone to koko, who grimaces at the device.

“wants to talk to you.” ran elaborates, as if the implication wasn’t clear enough.

koko snatches the phone from him with a glare, letting go of your arm to turn away from the two of you, “hello?”

you can barely make out the sound of someone on the other line, lip pulled between your teeth when you see how koko’s face pinches in distaste for whatever mikey could be saying.

“are you sure that’s a good idea. no, that's not what i'm saying at all - okay, fine. yeah, i’ll take ‘em there. sure. bye.”

he hangs up with a scowl, tossing ran back his phone as he turns to reface you, “come on, we’re gonna go somewhere.”

“to mikey?” you ask, hope leaking off your tongue.

he doesn’t reply, opening the door and gesturing for you to exit the room when you don’t immediately begin moving.

you offer a small wave goodbye to ran and rindou, despite the fact that there was no pleasure in meeting them in the first place, and you miss the glare koko sends them once you’re walking down the steps. koko leads you out of the club, guiding you by the upper arm through the sea of people until you’re stepping into the cool night air outside.

though you’re no longer in the middle of the thrum of people, koko’s grasp on your arm doesn’t leave until he’s stopping in front of a sleek black car. a cadillac, maybe? mercedes? you’ve never been good with vehicles.

he opens the door for you, though, and you have enough sense to mumble a small thanks as you climb in.

when he enters through the driver’s door, he pauses for a minute, letting the silence wash over the two of you while gripping the steering wheel.

“it really is stupid of you to come around here, ” he says finally, still looking straight ahead while you move to carefully pull your seatbelt on, “i shouldn’t even take you to him, you know. i should just take you home.”

“you don’t have room to talk about stupid decisions,” you snap in time with the click of the buckle, “inupi and i have mourned the loss of people we care about who are still alive and well, that’s not fair.”

you see the way his jaw clenches, knuckles turning white from how hard he holds the steering wheel.

“we made sacrifices for you-”

“i made sacrifices too,” you frown, thinking about the lost opportunities to raise your son, “and i just want five minutes of talking to mikey. is that too much to ask?”

“you have other people to look out for instead, “ koko clicks his tongue, grip relenting as he looks over to you, “just remember that you asked for this.”

the weight of his words settle heavy in the air as he puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking lot.

the car ride is silent aside from the soft music that plays from the radio, turned to low volume. koko doesn’t move to break the silence, and you don’t have it in you to disrupt the tension that builds, anxiety creeping under your skin until it pops into goosebumps on the surface when he pulls in front of a large apartment building.

“you’re gonna go to the top floor,” koko explains, not looking over at you, “he should already be there.”

“should?” you parrot, nerves catching up with you.

“if not already then soon.” he clicks the button to unlock the doors for you, and your breath stutters at the sound, fingers dancing around the door handle.

“okay . . . thank you, koko. it’s . . . it is good to see you again. inupi would be happy to know you’re okay.”

you don’t stay long enough to hear the way he inhales sharply, don’t see the way he tenses from the words. koko doesn’t wait for you to enter the building before he drives off, and you don’t look back as you push open the doors.

the lobby is cold, you note dully, and it must be the reason your hairs stand on end when you find your way to the elevators. you wrap your arms around yourself after stepping inside of them, pressing the button to the top floor and willing your heart to not beat out of your chest.

you realize just how much money mikey must have when the doors open to a penthouse - the entire floor being taken up as the apartment. you slowly step inside, sliding off your shoes by elevator and peek around inside the open area, spotting a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in the space. there’s a hall that cuts off towards the right of the room and you wonder if that’s where the bedroom(s?) and bathroom are.

it feels wrong, almost, being here alone. though the room is definitely well furnished (the couch itself looks like it costs more than your broken down car), it feels . . . devoid of life. like maybe it’s only a place for rest - not a home. there’s no comfort of connection anywhere in the building, no vulnerability in personal property. you make your way further into the living room, eyeing the art hanging on the wall as if it could mean something to you.

“i really thought he’d take you home.” you jump at the sound of a voice, whirling around to face whoever could be speaking.

your mouth dries at the sight.

mikey, but surely not your mikey, with his hair cropped short and paler than anything you remember, with bags under his eyes and frame thinner than what could be considered healthy, steps into view from the hall, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

words die on your lips when he stops beside you, leaning back as if really taking in the painting you were eyeballing, head tilting, “heard you wanted to talk to me. must’ve been important if you went through all that trouble just to find me.”

you don’t know what possesses you to take the first swing, to hit at his shoulder and his chest with tears welling in your eyes, but you do.

and by some miracle, he lets you. it probably helps your hits are weak, with no intention to really harm - only needing an outlet for the emotions you’d been harboring for four fucking years.

“why didn’t you call me,” you whisper when you’re finished with your barrage of hits, letting him guide you to the couch and sit you down on it, placing himself on the other end, “i-i wrote to you, i texted, i called, i looked for four years, mikey, and i got nothing in return. do you even know what for?”

when you look at him, his gaze is set straight ahead to the wall across from the two of you, to the flatscreen tv that’s been off since you’d arrived - and who knows how long before that.

“i’ve been busy.” he offers instead of answering, stare unwavering despite the way you frown and sigh out your disappointments.

"too busy to respond? to even acknowledge my existence? what kind of fucking answer is that!?" you’re heated all over again by his lack of concession, at the way his eyes don’t leave the screen of the tv until you’re standing up from the couch with your arms out beside you, then tucking them into yourself and turning away from him, “koko was right, he should’ve just taken me home-”

“why’d you come?” he asks instead, gaze finally moving from the tv to you.

the question makes you pause, dig your nails into your arms as if that could somehow ground you.

“i . . . we have a son.” you say finally, not turning to face him as the words leave your lips.

you’re met with a beat of silence before he says, “i know.”

i know. i know. i know, i know i know i know.

he knew.

“you know?” you repeat, turning to face him, suddenly quieter than before.

“that you had a son,” he clarifies, face unreadable as he continues, “wasn’t sure if he was mine.”

“how?” you press, legs buckling under your weight and leaving you to fall back down to the couch.

“we . . . i’ve had koko do check-ins on everyone, every now and then,” he looks away at the admittance, “to make sure their lives are going well. did you know mitsuya’s a designer now? hakkai’s even modeled a few of his designs, and chifuyu and kazutora own a pet shop together, too” he’s deflecting, you can tell from the way he keeps his stare even and away from your own.

“i do know,” you snap, “because they visit when they can. they want to see their nephew when they’re able to come by.”

the way you bite your words out should sting, should hurt in a way he can’t place, but they don’t. he’s done this to himself, he knows, he’s just reaping what he’s sown.

“why’d you leave?” you whisper out, “w-why’d you just disappear? why didn’t you respond to me? why did it take me getting hurt for you guys to make yourself known?”

he opens his mouth to reply, to say anything, but he doesn’t have an answer that will satisfy you. he knows that, and that is enough reason for him to keep his mouth shut.

“have you seen him?” you’re still whispering, appalled he couldn’t assume your son was his - as if you didn’t pick the name shin for him. mikey shakes his head and it has you pulling out your phone with shaking hands, shoving it in his face until the lock screen photo of you, your son, and draken glare brightly back at him.

his gaze moves from you to your phone, eyes scanning over the photo before they flit over to your face.

“i didn’t know he was ours.” he defends, looking away, and you push the phone further into his face so he can’t escape it.

“i’m telling you now that he is. “ you’re leaning into his space now, emphasize the need to look at the photo with another shake, and when he looks at you, really looks at you, his eyes trail from your own to your lips, to the bruises that marr your neck from the night prior.

he tips your chin up to get a better look at them, setting you with a look when you offer some resistance, “did those guys do this to you?” you nod, “they won’t touch you again. no one will.”

you frown at the implication, pushing his hand away with the hand not holding your phone, and he grabs that hand by the wrist when he spots the bruises decorating the skin there, taking it in with a still expression.

“i can take care of you guys,” he settles, “make sure you never need or want anything. you won’t have to work at that shitty diner anymore. our kid would have anything he could ever desire.”

his hand comes up to cup your cheek, wipes the stray tear that falls from your eyes, and against your better judgment, you lean into his touch.

“i’m not asking that of you,” you explain, closing your eyes and willing any other tears that want to fall away, “you don’t even know his name.” you remind him, opening your eyes and standing when your phone starts to ring. you wipe at your face hastily, looking at the caller id, and only get a glance of the name ken before mikey’s pulling you down into his lap.

you make a noise of disagreement, phone falling from your grasp to the couch beside the two of you from the sudden movement.

“tell me his name.” he says, one hand still holding your wrist while the other keeps you in place by the hip.

he practically demands it, eyes boring into your own as they search for the answer.

“shin,” you reply after a moment, pulling your lip between your teeth, “i named him shin.”

the hand at your hip grips it tighter, fingers digging into the flesh until it almost hurts.

“after?”

“shinichiro, yeah.” you don't know if it’s really necessary to clarify, but you don’t have a second to think about it when he suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips with his own.

you falter for only a second before you’re returning the kiss with fervor, the hand not being held by mikey gripping the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

“i will take care of you guys,” he promises when he pulls away from your lips to press his own to your chin, trailing down to your jaw and settling at the junction of your throat, peppering kisses at the free expanse of skin until it’s decorated pretty with hickies.

his fingers dance under the hem of your dress, pulling you flush against him until your senses are full of nothing but, “can give ‘nother, you guys’ll have everything you could ever want.” he continues, the hand moving under your dress skimming across the tops of your thighs and pressing against your stomach.

you whine, quiet and high in the back of your throat that leaves him grinding against you, hand moving from your stomach to your bare hip to guide you. he’s saying so many things, whispering so many assurances in your ear, and for a second, it’s too much.

too overstimulating and happening too fast, but the way he holds you is so familiar, so comforting and warm and god you’ve missed him so fucking much. your phone buzzes to your right from the couch, and you pull away for a second to see it light up, see your brother’s contact pop up in that short amount of time before he’s forcing your attention back to him with a pinch to your hip, fingers pressing into your cheeks to turn your head back towards him.

“eyes on me,” he demands, “keep your eyes on me.”

#salmon rowe #mikey sano x reader #sano mikey x reader #mikey x reader #sano x reader #mikey sano #sano mikey #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader

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morallyinept · 1 month

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Devotion - A Dieter Bravo x Curvy/Fuller body F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Whilst on vacation with your partner Dieter Bravo, you get snapped in your bikini by paparazzi, causing you to question and evaluate your body shape when others start to pick it apart scathingly. Dieter however, shows you that you're perfect just as you are.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Curvy/Fuller body F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity. Reader has a fuller, curvier body type. Dieter is a little bigger himself in this fic too, it comes with natural ageing.)

Word Count: 8.4k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Triggers & warnings: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral F receiving/Dieter worships your body/angst/self-loathing/tiniest mention of being sick after eating food, but it's not an eating disorder/people being cruel jerks online/comparison of bodies/Dieter just Dietering/we love all types of bodies in this house and won't tolerate any body shaming of any kind.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The body type mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | DIETER BRAVO MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Nestled along the powdery white sands of Bora Bora's coastline, a sanctuary in an exquisite overwater villa perches atop stilts above the glistening lagoon, a retreat of luxury and tranquillity.

A private deck is greeted by sweeping views of the turquoise waters that stretch as far as the eye can see. A staircase leads down to the tranquil sea below, where one can choose to swim, snorkel, or simply float in the heady bliss of the ocean.

Entering the villa through glass-panelled doors, an atmosphere of understated elegance greets the inhabitant. The interior is adorned with natural materials, from polished hardwood floors to intricately woven rattan furnishings, creating a seamless blend of modern comfort and traditional island charm.

The bedroom, with its plush queen-size bed adorned with crisp white linens, offers a haven of serenity and comfort. A canopy draped overhead adds a touch of romance, while sliding glass doors open onto a private balcony, where champagne can be sipped under the twinkling stars.

The bathroom is a sanctuary of indulgence, featuring a deep-soaking jacuzzi tub overlooking the lagoon, where one can luxuriate in a bubble bath while watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of pink and gold.

And it’s here, in the giant whirlpool tub, where Dieter Bravo finds himself, biting into the skin of your shoulder as he fucks into you from behind.

His panting growls fill your ears as he fills you deep, fingers moulding into the soft curves of your hips as he pulls you back onto him with each thrust.

“Fuck, baby!” He hollers, as your cunt clenches around him, squealing as you come and gripping on the sides of the slippery tub for leverage.

You’re pretty sure the other guests can probably hear you in their own water villas, but you don’t care. Instead you twist in the water seeking his plush mouth as his tongue slips between your lips.

“Do that again, come on my cock.” Dieter husks, teeth biting onto your bottom lip.

He thrusts harder, wheezing at the back of his throat as bubbles and water spill over the sides of the tub. You scream louder; his awed laughter cajoling as you come again, and he soon busts a nut of his own, hollering loudly himself as he fills you up.

"Yeaaaah! Oh fuck, yeah!" He grunts, sweaty forehead lolling against yours and smiling with a blissed out face.

He lights a post-coital blunt and smirks at you as he stretches out naked in the giant bed; hair a damp, ruffled mess and a puffed out pot belly that he strokes absentmindedly, a half hour or so later. He's gloriously naked and completely unabashed about it.

In fact, he hasn't put any clothes on since being here with you; the both for you encased away inside your private villa where you can rusticate like Adam and Eve.

“I hate my feet. They look like weird hands.” He says slowly, as he wiggles his bare toes and eyes the chubby, little pinkies suspiciously.

"You have cute feet." You giggle.

"No. Yours are cute. Mine are... Hobbit feet. Look."

He nods down to his feet and you laugh. "They are a little bit. Which Hobbit are you?"

"Samwise, d'uh." He says, toking deeply.

"You look more like a Pippin to me," you grin, as you flop down beside him on the bed.

Smirking, Dieter brings his large palm down on your bare ass as you lay on your front.

He groans in delight at the playful slap rippling down your shapely thighs. The damp, sticky remains of multiple orgasms on the sheets feel gluey against your skin in patches.

“Mmm,” he grunts as you lean up to kiss him, tasting herbs and smoke around his teeth. “Hey baby,” he smiles dreamily at you with pink, twinkly eyes.

"Hey yourself," you smile, as you kiss him some more.

This is the most relaxed you’ve seen him in a while, having a sixth sense for when living in La La Land gets a bit much for him.

He gets this twitchy, deer-in-headlights look about him and starts saying things like I’ve had a headache for days, I think it’s a brain tumour, or that piece of broccoli is watching me as you regard him staring at it as he moves about the room, and launching into a paranoid diatribe when he’s mixed too many substances together and doesn’t know which way is up.

That’s when you know it’s time for a time out. Whisking him away to a private sanctuary where he can detox, kinda, and eat some damn broccoli without trying to fight and chokeslam it.

Where he can indulge in some freaky sex with you, and the cute waiter who brought him a double, when he only asked for a single, and the next thing his cock is in his mouth and your fingers are in his ass as the three of you paint the room in bodily fluids.

It’s a much needed retreat for you both, adopting the mutually agreed upon rule of no phones or internet as you truly switch off and lock your devices away in the room safe, as you spend time fawning over the intimate fronds of your deepening relationship with A-lister Dieter Bravo.

Once a washed up has-been floundering in the gross LA gutter, now a three-time Emmy winner and on his way to the Oscars. Yet despite the three-sixty turn around in his career through some clever reshuffling of his publicists and agents, he still retains that firecracker ability to go off the rails on occasion, despite cleaning up his act somewhat.

You’ve been credited as the main reason for this transformation, a positive impact; a grounding force in an otherwise chaotic timebomb. The rarely seen lover, opting out of the spotlight through your own choice, and Dieter’s support of it.

Although he’s name dropped you in a few interviews when asked about his infectious happiness, snapped numerous selfies of you both loved up and nuzzling on his Instagram, and on occasion you’ll hang off his arm at an event in a dress that costs more than your first mortgage.

But for the most part, you do your own thing, happy to let him do his, and come back to the home you’ve both been curating together.

You met just like in a trashy Hallmark romance, standing in line to get a green juice in a trendy cafe in downtown LA, and it was love at first wow, as he swooned at you over the tip of his Raybans and grinned crookedly at you, gold earring sparkling like those mischievous eyes.

You’ve been hooked on this lewd rapscallion, with a heart of gold, ever since.

You had no idea who he was or what he did, and for a while, he kept it a secret; fearing that if you knew about his fame and bawdy past shenanigans, you’d disappear in a puff of judgemental smoke.

But you didn’t, instead supporting him and drawing a line between the fame and the reality, and became an anchor when he needed one to stop him floating too far adrift.

Dieter has never said the L word before, but when he did with you, around a mouthful of grilled cheese as you both sat in the dark watching Humphrey Bogart movies, (often Sabrina - it's his favourite) something told you this fuzzy-haired doof meant it.

He can’t keep his hands off you, grabbing and pawing at your voluptuous curves. Burying his face in your breasts that suffocate him, and an ass that won’t quit when he fucks it and watches it ripple.

He’s always been fantastically open about how much he loves your body.

Your weight fluctuates at the best of times, growing when you’re comfy, and you’ve never felt more comfortable than with Dieter. He paints you when you’re asleep, waking to find another portrait of flesh coloured brush strokes on another canvas that’s added to the collection of worship pieces he creates.

Anyone would think he was obsessed with you, but you don’t mind the attention he lavishes, especially when he pours paint over your breasts and gets you to smoosh them into the canvas board whilst he fucks you from behind.

He’s insatiable for you, and for once you feel like you can be yourself around him, truly. Comfortable to be naked and bare with him in your skin.

You’ve spent years with your thoughts drifting inward, grappling with the complexities of your body. A regular love-hate relationship, which leans more towards the hate more often than not.

It’s no secret that you’re larger and more curvaceous than the slender figures typically celebrated by society, and the usual, skinny types that had draped off of Dieter’s arm in the past.

Your body, adorned with generous amounts of curves, dimples and soft contours, bear the marks of a life well-lived and enjoying the over-indulgence of it at times.

But sometimes, you feel a pang of insecurity flood through you; your eyes drawn to the lithe forms that grace the glossy pages of fashion magazines.

Feeling itchy inside your epidermis at the actors that flock around you both at the after parties in their tight dresses that look like a second skin, and the endless scroll of social media feeds perpetuating the allusion, that to be beautiful, you must be thin.

You feel like the “fat woman” when surrounded by slender, flat-tummied make-up artists and stylists who flood your home when Dieter has an event to prepare for. In a world that seems to worship perfection, you can't help but wonder if your own body falls short of the unattainable ideal at times.

But Dieter doesn’t see it that way.

He's continuously lavishing you with affection and love, and unable to keep his big hands off you from day one. You’ve been with him long enough now to know he’s serious about you, respectful of your choices to remain out of the spotlight and trusting that you’re not just a novelty to him.

He’s changed because of you; cleaned himself up and become a better man, and that only imbues the sense of worship he gives to you daily.

As you gaze into Dieter's glassy eyes, you find yourself bathed in a warmth that transcends the superficial constraints of beauty standards. In his unwavering stare you see not judgement, but genuine admiration - a reflection of the love and acceptance that he has for you, curves and all.

He makes you feel invincible when he looks at you like this. But sometimes, it's hard not to let the insecurities seep in.

This vacation has been relaxing, enjoying one another in the privacy of the water villa, but Dieter’s attention span can only survive in enclosed walls for so long, and soon he’s itching to get out and explore.

He suggests the nearby market for lunch and the beach, and you agree, pulling on a suitable dress over your bikini, and rolling up his yoga mat to shove into your beach bag.

You stroll hand-in-hand through the market, packed with tourists and locals. He stops at stalls to admire handmade crafts through his giant, dark Raybans, and purchases cheap beaded bracelets that he adds to the collection on his wrist, and rambles at you in great detail about the craftsmanship of them.

You stop for refreshing guava and pineapple smoothies from stall vendors, pose for selfies by a tropical flower bush as he picks one and places it behind your ear, and after a mouthwatering shellfish lunch, you end the afternoon lazing on the beach together.

He gets a little handsy when he rubs sun lotion onto your skin, fingers slipping under your bikini top discreetly to tug at your puffy nipples as he sucks the oily skin on your neck.

"D..." You whine, as he pulls them in his between his fingers and whispers in your ear how fucking hot you are. You shoo him away, grinning, as he heads into the water for a swim, and you lay back to bake in the sun with your book.

You lick your lips a little while later as he emerges from the water; pale lilac swim shorts clinging to his thick thighs, unruly greying fluff slicked back. Sea water drips from his chin down his chest, that puffs out into a little swollen tummy of his own with a slot machine belly button. Dark hairs disappear into his shorts as he pulls them up, strolling out of the waves.

Dieter’s ageing in the most beautiful way possible, broad too in every sense of the word as the sun blesses him with a gorgeous bronze tan, and he catches you staring like a drooling chimp as he heads back towards you.

He flashes you those enigmatic teeth as he approaches, sand clumped around his ankles.

“See something you like?” He grunts, as he bends down to kiss you, hooked nose all wet and dripping salt water onto your lips.

“Maybe,” you say, his crotch almost in your face as he stands.

He's already pitching a tent in them as he smiles down at you with a razor-like grin.

“Did you know a sea cucumber ejects its intestines out in self-defense? It looks like a sea dick squirting all over the place. And there's lots of it, too.”

You laugh. “Did you see a sea cucumber in the water just now?”

“No. I just remembered seeing it on Nat Geo. Fascinating.”

“You’re so random, D.” You titter, dropping your book down.

"You love it." He says, wiping at his face with the towel.

"I do."

“You know-" he sits behind you on the lounger and pulls you back against his wet chest, “-there’s nothing stopping us from fucking right here. I could easily slip my cock into you right now.”

“D, the beach is full of people.” But you groan at the thought of it.

“Yeah, but the danger, the anticipation. It’d be hot, no?” He whispers, fingers dipping into the waistband of your bikini bottoms. “Just fucking you in front of all these people and they’d never know. You'd have to be really quiet, baby...”

“Dieter!” You hiss, bringing your legs up to stop him going any further.

“Alright,” he chuckles in your ear, running his fuzzy chin against your face.

"Is that a sea cucumber in your shorts or are you just pleased to see me?" You remark at the hard bulge poking at your lower back.

Dieter chuckles, all waspy inside your ear. “I'm still hungry. Let’s go back to the villa and you can sit on my face for a while.”

The vacation comes to an end after another week of fucking all over the water villa, and you both find yourselves on the flight back to civilisation, somewhat more exhausted than when you'd set off.

You turn on your mobile when taxiing towards the terminal, back on American soil, and listen to the pings as your phone catches up with life.

You scroll through emails as Dieter quietly snores beside you, mouth open and catching flies.

Smirking, you scroll through social media and stop, immediately feeling sick when you open a message from your friend titled have you seen this?

There’s a screenshot of you on the beach in your bikini from a pap site, something that doesn't surprise you much at all - it’s bound to happen now and again when you’re spotted with Dieter, despite booking somewhere off radar.

Renegade photos of the two of you end up on the socials all the time, and you pay them no mind, choosing to abstain from looking them up.

But what you don’t expect to see is the vitriol in the comments underneath the picture, from none other than Dieter’s fans.

You read the words fat and beached whale and pity fuck, standing out like they’re flashing red neon at you.

Swallowing as your throat runs dry, it gets worse the further you scroll. They make fun of your body, make remarks about your face, your hair, sense of fashion, even your ankles of all things.

Who is offended by someone’s fucking ankles, for Christ’s sake?

Every part of you is pulled apart scathingly in deep conversations that go on and on, blurring out the compliments that say you’re a cute couple by the ones that say things like she carries it well.

Carries what well?

You’re pulled in, instantly scrolling to Dieter's own Instagram page and clicking on the most recent picture he took of you both as you watched the sunset on your last night in Bora Bora.

You have the flower in your hair that he picked and put behind your ear, and told you how gorgeous you were as he snapped the selfie, his lips pressing into your cheek. Under the photo he wrote the caption my heart.

Comparing how his belly in his swim shorts looks gorgeous and sexy and how complete strangers want to lick it, whereas your tummy in your bikini is branded hideous and disgusting.

It’s liked by over five million people, and you grimace when you realise there are also thousands of comments talking about your looks there too.

How your shoulders are much broader than his, your thighs the size of tree trunks. How you must crush him when you fuck.

Who's the whale next to Dieter?

They speculate that you’re pregnant. Some of them are calling you a cunt or a bitch because you’re carrying his fictitious baby.

The unjustified hate just keeps coming and coming.

Can't believe he's with someone so fat.

She’s so gross.

She’s disgusting.

He's fucking her for a joke.

Dude must be high AF to fuck that each night.

I've seen glory holes better looking than her face.

He deserves better.

It’s a staged relationship. No way he’d look twice at her.

You thought you looked pretty in your dress. You were wrong, babe.

You feel like you’re going to throw up and nudge him awake.

“D,” you groan.

“Mm,” he mutters.

“Dieter! Wake up!”

“Wha-what?” He jolts as he comes to, wiping his mouth free of drool. “Have we landed? Oh, we're here. What time is it? Fuck, my neck. I think I've dislocated my shoulder sleeping in this damn seat. Why'd you let me sleep for so long?”

His bleary eyes look around the cabin as he sits upright in his seat with wild, fuzzy hair. He turns to you and baulks.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” He sees you crying silently into your hands. “Hey, what happened?” He reaches for your hands, but instead you toss the phone at him.

Confused, he takes it and smiles at the selfie of you both together. “What, you don’t like it? I think you look really gor-”

“Read the comments,” you all but choke out to him.

As he scrolls through the comments, his jaw clenches in anger; his grip on the phone tightening with each cruel word. You see his nostrils flare as he breathes in and clicks the phone screen off.

“Babe,” he shakes his head. “Fuck that shit, man. Ignore it. Bitches be cray and all.”

“That’s easy for you to say, they fucking love you!” You shake your head and scramble up past him, heading for the door as the other passengers begin to disembark.

"I'll get the luggage then..." He huffs to himself.

Despite Dieter’s reassurances, the words have already taken root in your mind, poisoning your thoughts with doubt and reuniting you with that old, reliable friend, self-loathing.

In the days that follow, you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into a depressive spiral, unable to escape the relentless barrage of negativity that haunts your every waking moment.

It consumes you. Strangers, people you’ve never met and don’t know or what they look like, get into your head. You suddenly realise the power that words have.

They have jagged edges that cut into your skin and leave you bleeding, dying.

They cause your head to ache profusely and your nose to become blocked, and your eyes to itch from crying so much. You’re suddenly paranoid, of everything, everyone that looks at you. Second guessing all the time, wondering what they think when they look you over.

You withdraw from the world, retreating into the darkness of your own mind, where the echoes of cruel words reverberate back and forth like a never-ending chorus of condemnation.

No amount of love or support from Dieter can penetrate the thick fog of despair that envelopes you, leaving you feeling utterly alone and miserable.

You cancel pre-planned events, leaving Dieter to go alone, whilst you curl up under the duvet and don’t surface for days, and you realise that ignorance really was bliss.

You find yourself standing in front of the mirror naked when you finally brave yourself to have a shower, and are disgusted at what you see.

Highlighted before the glass, your reflection is a cruel mockery of the beauty you once believed you possessed. The soft glow of the vanity lights illuminate every curve and contour of your body, each line a stark reminder of your perceived inadequacy.

Your gaze lingers on your reflection, tracing the lumpy ridges of your hips and the soft swell of your hanging stomach, the fullness of your thighs and the rounded shape of your ass, with a mixture of disdain and disgust.

You grab handfuls of your flesh, rolling it in your grip, shaking your head as your eyes fill with water.

Looking away, you cover yourself up with baggy clothes that aren’t flattering. You put on Dieter's green robe over the top and belt it up and climb back into bed, sobbing.

How can he possibly find me attractive? Is he part of it? Am I really just a pity fuck?

The invasive thoughts begin to chip away at the solid foundations you thought you had. Crumbling them into doubt and paranoia.

Their words haunt you, spin around your eyesight for days until you're back torturing yourself and scrolling back through them all. You shut everything out except their words - you just exist in this tormented space in the bed - refusing to entertain anyone, including Dieter - with your phone doom scrolling, and nothing but self-loathing and misery.

It lasts on a repetitive cycle for days.

You try not to eat, taking to self-punishment and abstinance, but then that only makes it worse because you inevitably get hungry and order take-out. Far too much take-out.

And then once you've eaten it all, a small comfort that is fleeting, you force yourself sick, feeling guilty and even more wretched for enjoying the food that you love.

Until Dieter’s had enough of it all.

He throws everyone out of the house on the eve before Oscar’s night, refusing to partake in any more fittings whilst he knows you’re upstairs hiding from him and hurting.

Forehead pulling into tight wrinkles with guilt, Dieter stares at the dress the stylist has brought over that he knows you’ll look incredible in.

You were so excited when you first tried it on, and now he can’t help but feel as though he’s had some part in this; coaxing you to try and be someone you’re not just for the sake of the glitz and solid bronze statues plated in 24 karat gold.

But he can't help it, he wants to share this side of him with you. Wants you to be proud of him and to show you off, because you make him so equivocally happy. And for a long time, Dieter wasn't happy. Just floundering and trying to shape himself so he could fit into their moulds too.

He said he'd keep you separate from his world if that's what you wanted, and for the most part you did, and now he wonders if it's because of this - this pressure that society puts on people in the spotlight to maintain perfection.

And he can't help but wonder if he's put that pressure on you too in some ways.

It’s like cleaning out wounds with dirty fingers, festering and making it worse the longer you're hurting and allowing them to hurt you. And now, he trudges up the stairs, woolly socks making static on the carpet, with the dress dangling from the hanger over his broad shoulder.

He misses you. Misses your smile, your smell, your warmth. Your body wrapped around his. It's not fun watching movies by himself, sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms without you.

He's given you space, but he needs you. Needs you to see how fucking beautiful you are to him. And needs you to know he's not giving up on you, not now and not ever.

“I’m not going.” You grumble with a huff.

Knuckles rap on the bedroom door and push it open gently when you grunt at him to go away.

You watch him, with puffy eyes, as he hangs the dress bag over the closet door.

You shake your head vehemently.

“You don't have to. But... you promised me.” Dieter says, as he kicks at the foot of the bed gently.

His zig-zag sweater is knitted and bobbly on the arms when he crosses them over his chest. Triad tattoos inked into his skin peep out at you under rolled up sleeves.

“You wanna see it?” He offers. "Might make you feel good to try it on again?"

“No. I’m not wearing it. I’m not going and that’s that.”

Dieter kneels on the bed slowly crawling up towards you. “It’s my night, baby, and I want you there by my side.”

You sigh. “I can’t,” you whimper, trying not to look at him.

“Yes, you can. You know you can.”

Tears fall from your eyes making warm tracks on your cheeks.

“No, I don’t.” You say, sniffing.

“I love you.” Dieter says, reaching your face and sitting over your thighs.

His thumbs catch the tears and he kisses your face. “I fucking love you. You’re so beautiful and sexy. God, you're so fucking sexy. You make me so hard.”

He takes your hand and puts it over his cock that’s indeed rock solid in his shorts.

“Yes you do, see? Even when you're crying and wearing my shitty gown. You’ve always been so fucking sexy to me.”

A renegade smile tries to break free at the corner of your lips as he starts smashing down your walls with a sledgehammer. And his aim is pretty on point.

"When was the last time you washed this? It stinks," you say, looking down at the stained softness of his gown draped over you. You don't even want to know the origin of some of them.

“That’s it, there you are.” He encourages.

“You really think I’m sexy?” You whimper. “All this?” You say, confused as you point to your stomach.

“I love your body, babe. Every. Inch. Of. It.” He punctuates each word with a kiss over your face; on your nose, your forehead, your chin.

“Why? You could have anyone...”

“I don’t want anyone. I want you. I've always wanted you.”

“Why?”

“Because I fell in love with you. Hook. Line. And fucking sinker.”

“Dieter-” You choke and snivel.

He wraps you up in his arms. “Let me show you, baby.”

He unbelts his gown that you’re wearing, leaning forward to kiss your lips gently. Your fingers tangle in his hair, silky greying fluff, as he swirls his tongue around inside your mouth.

"You taste like flaming hot Cheetos." You smirk around his lips.

"I may have eaten three king-size bags. My ass and the toilet will hate me later."

"Is that all you've eaten?"

"Well, yeah. That and microwave oven pizzas... I'm kinda floundering without you. It really is selfish of you to not come downstairs and cook for me. Baby, I'm wasting away." He pats his little belly for emphasis.

You laugh, a deep and haughty chuckle, and he smiles at that.

"You're such a doof."

"Yeah, but I'm your doof." Dieter says as he kisses you, sighing into your mouth as his shoulders sag.

He pulls away and runs his thumb over your lips.

“I love your lips,” he says, licking over them and nipping them between his teeth. “Mmm, yeah. Fuck. Love it when they wrap around my cock too,” he hums.

You chuckle through wet eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah baby, I love how you look when you suck my cock. So fucking hot.”

“How do I look?”

“Like a fucking Goddess!” He chirps enthusiastically, and you can see that he really means it. "Better than Aphrodite, Dionysus... that-that pale chick riding in the clam-"

"Venus." You hiccup through a smile.

"Yeah. They haven't got shit on you, babe."

"Dieter," you stutter as he nuzzles into your face. He slathers wet kisses down your neck as you groan.

“I love these tits… fuck,” he groans as he squeezes them in his hands, sucking on the nipples as he pushes your t-shirt up.

“Mmm, D…” you whine as he flicks his tongue back and forth over them, until they become hardened pebbles in his mouth making you shudder and clench.

"Fucking perfect tits." He grunts. He kisses and licks down the deep valley of your breasts, smooching over your sternum.

“I love this belly,” Dieter says, with more kissing, licking and stopping to blow a loud raspberry into your belly button.

You cackle as he strokes and tickles your hips.

“Dieter!” You howl as he tickles harder.

“See, stunning!” He laughs, watching you cackle and squirm as you try to bat him off.

“Stop it!” You howl. "I'm gonna pee!"

“I love these little lines here,” he says, as he runs his tongue over the crinkled stretch marks around your lower tummy.

He kisses further down into the swell of your thighs, pulling your leggings down as he goes, revealing more skin for him to lavish.

"I love this freckle right here, and this one here, and this little guy over here… But this one’s my favourite, right here. Hi cutie,” he smiles as he kisses it.

You giggle like an idiot as he kisses over each freckle, mole and dimple in and around your thighs.

“And I fucking love this pussy,” Dieter groans as he runs his tongue up the slit of you over your panties.

You watch as he hooks his fingers into the elastic and pulls them down, with darkening eyes smouldering up at you from between your legs.

His tongue runs on the skin outside your pussy lips, so close to your clit. He trails a hot, wet lap around and leaves you panting, begging. “Please, please…”

"What do you want, baby? You want me to kiss it?" He smirks as you nod, head all slack and mesmerised.

He spreads your lips and licks his tongue slowly up your slit, making you shudder as he swirls it around the bump of your buzzing nub.

“Fuck,” Dieter groans, reaching down to adjust himself. “I could just fucking come from eating you out,” his voice is muffled by doing just that.

Your head keens back into the pillows and you groan. Your fingers rummage inside his hair, twisting and pulling, as he laps you up.

He doesn’t shy away, nestling himself between your thighs so he can lavish you with deserved attention as he kisses all over your pussy.

Running his adept and hungry tongue back and forth over your clit before sucking it into his mouth and making those thighs quake and jerk around his face.

“D… Let me touch you.” You whine.

“There'll be plenty of time for that later, right now I’m happy just here. Right here..." He licks again, a long fat stripe up your seam, and you pant. "I want you to come all over my face, beautiful.” Dieter urges, rutting his hips into the mattress.

As the tension mounts within, you can feel every nerve in your body standing on edge, like a tightly coiled spring ready to burst. And then, in a moment of pure abandon, it happens. A wave of pleasure crashing over you; a surge of unfurling sensations that seem to consume you whole as you tumble through them.

He rubs over your clit, tickling it with the increasing pressure and speed from the pad of his thumb as he slips his tongue inside your hole and drinks you down. He hums around you, licking and sucking as he entices your body to just bend to his mouth.

And you do.

"Dieter! Fuck!"

Like a firework exploding in the night sky, a burst of light and colour leaves you breathless and exhilarated as he continues to lick and suck you through your orgasm.

You're a writing mess, groaning as you fill his mouth with more of your slick and clenching around his tongue as he fucks your contracting hole with it. As your body convulses with the force of your release, your thighs crushing further against his head, you feel a profound sense of relief wash over you, like a swampy weight lifting from your shoulders.

Bathed in a moment of pure ecstasy amongst the dread that’s consumed you; a fleeting glimpse into the freedom from it all.

"Fucking love this pussy," he mouths.

“Shit... I need you, D.” You gasp, your body buzzing for him.

You pull him out of his cargo shorts, hard and swollen in your palm. Just barely stroking across his soaked frenulum as he groans like he's been choked. The slick of his own drippings covering your fingers as you jerk him desperately.

“Fuck!” Dieter muffles into your mouth as you crush him in a kiss; teeth clashing with clumsiness at your haste to have him and cupping his balls.

You can taste yourself all over his furry lips and chin as he guides his swollen, weeping head inside your gorgeous cunt.

“Dieter!” You groan as he fucks into you, large hands roaming all over your body, squeezing, massaging.

“So fucking beautiful, baby.” He pants, burying his head into the ample swell of your breasts.

Your tits bounce wildly around his face with every thrust of his pelvis against yours, and he just whines and groans inside his happy place as he sucks on your nipples with eyes that stare up at you.

But it’s the love shining so deeply in his watery eyes that truly moves you - a love so profound, it seems to shimmer with unshed tears, reflecting the depth of his emotion.

“God, I fucking love your body, baby.” His words penetrate the barriers you’ve built around yourself, slowly chipping away at the walls of self-doubt and insecurity that has held you captive in a cage for days.

"I love you!" He gasps into your mouth.

As you look into his earnest eyes, you see no sympathy or pity, but genuine affection and admiration. You see a man that genuinely believes you’re beautiful.

A man that can’t get enough of your curves, and welted and dimpled thighs. Your stretch marks and tummy rolls. A man who’s not afraid to put his hands on you, who wants to show you off to the world and declare “she’s mine” at the top of his grizzled voice proudly.

You see a man who also has body hang ups of his own when he stares at himself in the mirror after hours of being preened and gussied up like a peacock for the world’s cameras.

Wrinkling his aquiline nose at his slick appearance, when all he wants to do is laze about in a grubby, green gown and broken crocs, smoke a bowl and eat bags of flaming hot Cheetos with you, whilst nestled in the comfy, safe place in your arms and cleavage where he feels most like himself.

He twists, so one of your legs is still hooked over him, his hand on your ass as he pushes into you as you lay on your sides facing each other.

And you wouldn’t have him any other way.

It’s a revelation - the realisation that you’re deserving of love and acceptance, just as he is.

His hands run all over your body, sliding up your back and fingers gliding down your chest delicately. He guides his cock back in, holding you in his other arm tight and kissing you.

Dieter whines into your face as he slips in, his eyes searching yours out to convey in unspoken words how good you feel squeezing around him.

You let your hips languidly bounce as he flexes his; both of you enjoying that heady rhythm without rush or eagerness to finish in a hurry.

“Mmm. Oh fuck, right there… oh fuck, fuck. This pussy, baby, you feel so good.” Dieter groans, eyes rolling back. “Amazing, amazing...” He babbles.

“Tell me,” you pant. “Tell me what’s amazing, D.”

“You. You’re amazing. Fuck I want you every which way. I-I want to fuck your ass again. Wanna have you in my mouth, swallow you all up.”

“Eat the world.” You grin.

“Yeah, eat the world.” He smiles. “My world. You’re my fucking world, baby.”

“Fuck, I love how you grip me so tight, baby.” He wheezes, fists punched into the pillow either side of your head as his hips do all the work.

A subtle roll and he’s on top of you again. Knees knocking your thighs open wider and sinking his cock into you deeper.

He kisses you as he slides in, filling you up with his love as you whimper into his mouth in sweet relief.

“Come on, Dieter, give me your cock. Like that, fuck yeah, like that.” You pull on his broad arms, legs wrapping around his chunky waist as his stomach slaps against yours.

Deep smacks of skin fill your ears as he fucks you harder. He wheezes as he breathes, panting into your face.

“Like this? Yeah?” He fucks you faster, drilling in quick, deep shunts; the headboard clattering against the wall loudly. "God!" He grunts deeply. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna come, baby!"

He’s weak for you. You can see it in his eyes, the vulnerability around the blown out glass of them as he comes and bites down on his lip through a laboured grunt. Spilling warm and thick inside of you, and you feel it pool and dribble out once he softens.

“Give it to me, give it to me. Give me all your come, Dieter!” You cry as you burst again - gold bokeh filling your eyes as the heat floods through your body.

Your spine twists, your back arching. Toes curling and ears ringing as you come around him.

“Baby!” He yells as he momentarily stiffens and strains before exploding inside of you.

He stays plugged in for a while, pelting your breasts with unrelenting kisses as he rubs his nose against your nipple, tasting the salt of your sweat on his tongue. Eventually finding your lips once more as he holds your head in his giant hands.

“How do you do that, D?” You ask breathlessly, afterwards.

“Do what?” He lays beside you, pants slowly dying down and nose nuzzling against your own.

“Make me feel so good?” You peep, timidly.

“The same way you make me feel so good." He hums out as you watch his eyes close, dark, fluttery eyelashes fanning out. "I’d probably still be in the gutter if it weren’t for you loving me.” He says quietly.

“Do you really believe that?”

He nods, his greying hair ruffling against the pillow. “Yeah. I do. You saved me, baby.” He says, with deep chocolate eyes lanced on you. “My brain scrambles when I'm with you, but in a good way.”

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you. Then maybe you’d believe it.” His eyes soften at you, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. "I just want you to know how beautiful you are to me," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never want to make you feel like you're anything less than perfect, because to me, you are. And I know I'm a bit much sometimes... but I really do love you.”

You don't try to unpick the sweetly soft truth that pours out of him in sincere revelations, you just listen with a smile spreading across your lips.

“I love you, D. You and your scrambly brain always make me feel beautiful.”

“From the first day I met you, I’ve always thought so.” He smiles, his thumb pulling on your bottom lip. "And I'm never wrong." He grins.

A wider smile escapes you as you lean in closer, your forehead resting against his, damp with sweat.

“I’m not gonna force you, baby, but please come with me tomorrow night.” He implores with soft eyes. “You’re gonna look so beautiful and I really want you there with me. We'll have a great time, you and me.”

Your response is hesitant, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on his pudgy hip as you struggle to find words. Unable to speak, like rust clogging in your throat as your mind recalls all the nasty slurs said about you online and the panic prickles again.

You want nothing more than to carry out stringent ablutions, cleanse yourself of the tarnish they’ve left inked under the layers of your skin with all the other jibes and taunts you’ve heard throughout your life.

It's hard not to let your body physically define you when physicality is so superficial in this world. There isn't anything that anyone has said that you haven't heard before, or said to yourself in your moments of dark masochism.

You've seen all the looks people give you, like you're an exhibit in a museum to be gawked at. Heard all the whispers and mean girl things that ultimately mean girls say in earshot.

You've spent years planning routes around rooms as you step in, avoiding scenarios where you'll have to squeeze yourself through tiny gaps or past people.

Accepting the fact that the dress you really like in the shop window won't be in your size. Slicking your thighs in layers of anti-chafe balm in advance when your friends want to go for a walk and you struggle to keep up.

And words cut deep.

You try to tell yourself it's jealousy. You try to tell yourself that they’re not real. Faceless drones sitting behind a screen with nothing better to do than tear you down, because you ultimately have what they want.

They want him, Dieter. But you have him.

A woman who is so far removed from themselves in terms of looks, that it's hard for them to comprehend and accept that he could genuinely want you and love you, and get turned on by you.

You breathe in slowly, trying to push down all the negative thoughts that try to worm their way back in.

And sometimes, it's hard for you to accept too.

But then he does things like this, makes you believe and accept it, because his love for you is real. It's so fucking real that it guts you. It's all you've ever wanted, someone to see you.

Will I have to suck in my belly? Will people see me doing that? Is the dress going to cling onto my stomach and thighs too much? What if my dress tears? What if I fall? What if I embarrass him?

But then you look in his eyes keening back at you, and he has this power to get inside your head and sweep them all away again into a dark corner.

“I promise you, you won't be alone. I'll be right there beside you, every step of the way." Dieter reassures.

Your eyes soften at his words, a glimmer of hope shining through the murky uncertainty. "But what if-"

"No 'buts', candy and nuts," Dieter interjects, headbutting you gently. "You’re stunning, babe. Inside and out. And I'll spend the rest of my life reminding you of that."

“The rest of your life, huh?” You smile.

“Yeah. If you can tolerate me for that long.” He snickers, eye creases crinkling.

“That’s a pretty big if.” You smirk.

“The biggest.” Dieter smiles, his big browns pleading silently and soft at you, and melting you further in the process.

You nod, smiling. “Okay. I'll go.”

“Amazing.” He croons with a satisfied yawn. “We got any KitKats left?”

“In the kitchen, I think. I’ll get you one.” You smile.

“Rockstar.” He mumbles, nuzzling further into the pillow.

You catch sight of him over your shoulder, his bare, round ass naked and furry as he adjusts and gets comfortable on the bed.

You pad down to the kitchen, not bothering to dress, and catch sight of your reflection in the dark pane of the window.

A wobbly silhouette at first glance, but as you look closer, you can see the sheen of sweat gleaming on your skin, the warmth that coats it from the afterglow of Dieter’s touch.

Your gaze lingers on your shapely form, but instead of scrutinising the perceived flaws, you find yourself noticing the things you’ve overlooked - the gentle curve of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes, the fact that you’re here, naked and comfortable to wander freely around the house again, whereas only a few hours ago you were wrapped up and hiding.

As you regard your reflection, something is different. The harsh judgement and self-doubt that has plagued you tirelessly has been replaced by a newfound, creeping sense of acceptance and appreciation.

A small glimmer, but it's still there nonetheless.

You turn, admiring your shape with a small smile lighting you up at what you see.

In this moment, you realise that you’re beautiful like he says - not just because of your physical appearance, but because of the love Dieter has for you that makes you see past any self-loathing.

His unwavering affection lifts you up when you sink, helping you to see yourself in a new light, as a woman worthy of love and admiration.

You come back into the bedroom and toss the KitKat on the dresser when you see Dieter snoring gently.

Your leg hooks over his puffy middle as you listen to his heartbeat. The soft thrum-thrum emanating in the pit of his chest soothes away any worries or fears.

You feel his thick fingers twitch against your skin, a silent snuffle as he breathes laboriously, lost in sleep.

Dieter Bravo sees you and loves you for who you are, so maybe, just maybe, you should try to love yourself, too.

It's the last conscious thought you have before you fall asleep with him.

“Does my pocket look okay? It looks weird, it’s doing shifty things. I don't trust it.” Dieter asks, as he looks in the mirror and fiddles with the silk handkerchief poking out the top of it.

You can feel the nerves radiating off of him in droves. His fingers twitch, rings clacking against every surface he passes. Lips gnawed on until they’re scarlet, despite the make-up artist slicking them with balm tirelessly.

“Your rebellious pocket looks fine.” You say, as you step fully into the room.

“Oh wow! Baby. Fuck, look at you!” Dieter turns, his whole face lighting up. “You look so good in this colour.”

“Yeah?” You ask, smoothing down the dress that fits you like a dream.

It hides a multitude of sins in your opinion, as you turn this way and that in the mirror - you’re satisfied with how you look.

“Yeah, your eyes really pop, wow!” He comes over to you, all perfectly coiffed curls blown out, and crushed velvet sleeves embracing you. “Fuck…” He says, eyeing you up and down.

He makes no effort to hide it when he adjusts himself in his pants so brazenly.

“You scrub up pretty well yourself, Mr Oscar Nominee.” You smirk, eyeing how good he looks in his suit.

A crisp shirt is open at the neck revealing an abundance of golden skin you long to lick and taste. He channels Adam Ant with the eighties romance of it all; lace sleeves hanging low and unruly from his jacket cuffs, matching velour Gucci loafers on with no socks, and wearing fitted pants that finish above the ankle.

“I’m so fucking nervous.” Dieter murmurs to you, quietly in the car on the way there. He rubs at his sternum with a large palm and keeps it there. "I need an antacid. And possibly a shit." He mumbles, belching quietly into his fist. "Fuck. I should've taken a shit before we left."

You giggle. “You'll be alright. Just breathe.” You reassure him, ghosting your nose over his. "I've got you, D."

“I’ve got you too, baby.” He promises, squeezing your hand and smiling at you. "God, you look so beautiful."

The cameras are flashing in your retinas as you walk the red carpet with him. The dress dazzles back, accentuating your curves and features, and looking at yourself once more in the mirror before you left, you were awash with awe at how good it actually made you feel.

He leans in for a kiss, but belches again in your face, and you chuckle as he laughs, embarrassed. "Sorry, sorry."

"At least your breath doesn't smell like Cheetos."

"No, but my sweat does." He chuckles, then turns to you. "Please, for the love of God, don't let me shit my pants."

You remember that feeling, coming back to you slowly as you stand tall and proud beside your silly man, who won't stop discreetly belching in the back of his throat like a toad where he's so nervous.

Where did that other woman go? She was lost for a while, pulled into the mud, but she kept moving, getting herself out of it once again. She has strength after all. They won’t drag you under.

Dieter is in awe of you too as you hold onto his hand, fingers interlocked with yours tightly, with his other on his chest holding in his anxiety - and nervous burps - whilst you smile beside him and support him on his big night.

You hold each other up with words unsaid. Pillars of strength when the other one needs it. With him by your side, looking at you the way he is now, you’ve never felt more beautiful and loved in your own skin.

The paps call you to look this way, gorgeous, as they snap your picture with him whilst you pose, growing more confident as Dieter holds you close, beaming at you.

The interviewers want to know all about your dress and compliment you beside him as he talks about his film, and then forgets about it entirely and starts talking about you instead with starry eyes, when he loses his train of thought.

Interviews pop up online of Dieter just dumbstruck at you standing next to him, peppered with heart-eye emoji's and the comments flood in under the photos and reels.

Look at how he looks at her!

They make such a cute couple.

She looks so beautiful in that dress.

Aww, he really loves her!

I want them to get married and have lots of babies!!

I hope he wins tonight, he deserves it.

She's so good for him.

I wish I looked that good.

But their words, no matter how kind this time round, won't matter. Because right now, nothing anyone could say could make you feel better than he does about yourself.

Dieter leans in, his arm sliding around your curvy waist, his voice husky and pouring liquid silk in your ear.

“Later on, I’m gonna fuck you in this dress, baby.” He promises, with a shit eating grin that’s just as gleaming as the devilish gold hoop twinkling in his ear.

“You better, it’s Valentino.” You smirk. “Gotta get your money's worth.”

Crookedly grinning at you, he places a lingering kiss on your glossy lips as the paparazzi go wild, snapping pictures of Oscar Nominee, Dieter Bravo, affectionately worshipping his Goddess for the whole world to see.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Dieter, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

DIETER BRAVO MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fluff #every body is beautiful #bodies series #diversity #inclusivity #jett's writing

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ahonice · 11 months

Text

lucky; pt.2

part one

luke hughes x fem reader

word count: 8.4k

warnings: cursing, drinking, implications of sex/sexual jokes & situations, slight hate towards business majors, probably definitely incorrect knowledge about pre med shit.

note: since so many people asked for a part two (literally only fifteen but still) i finally got over the grudge i have against series/part twos and i'm here to relieve you all. this is the opposite of planned out, i am writing this as i go along so i hope it doesn’t suck too badly (actually scared no one will like this because of how much love part one got). anyways enjoy, leave feedback, have a great day, love y’all babes <3

italics are flashbacks

+++

you and luke didn’t arrive back at the house until past midnight. neither of you expected anyone to be awake when you entered through the front door, but the sound of multiple voices proved that theory to be wrong.

“i think my brother’s friends got here a little earlier than we anticipated.” luke told you as he opened the door, going unnoticed by the small crowd in the living room. “let’s just get to my room and go to sleep, we need some rest.” you nodded at luke’s words as he moved himself behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, you knew he was subconsciously attempting to protect you from the group of guys, more specifically his brothers.

we didn’t make it far though, only a few moments later a voice called out at luke, causing everyone else to focus their attention on us. sighing, luke let go of you and moved forward to greet everybody, muttering an apology as he passed by you.

you stood there awkwardly, trying to decide if you should wait for luke to finish with his tiny game of catch up or if you should just go up into his room and wait for him there. after what happened today luke asked his mother if the two of you could stay in the same room today, she agreed after a little bit of begging on luke’s behalf. before you could make your own decision the room’s attention was no longer on luke.

“who is the girl luke?”

your head shot up at the mention of you, instantly becoming a bit self conscious because of the number of eyes on you. you made eye contact with quinn for a split second before tears started to build up again, seeing him just reminded you of everything that you had been through in the past twenty four hours.

“that’s my girlfriend, y/n.” luke said, making his way back to your side and attempting to block you from the eyes that were visibly making you uncomfortable. “-and if you don’t mind we would like to get to bed, it’s been a long day. you can all be properly introduced in the morning.” without letting anybody else get a word in, he turned around and guided you up to his room with his hands around your waist.

+++

you woke relatively early, the sun was just beginning to rise so you took this as your opportunity to go outside and spend some time on your own, you needed it. it took a little bit to get luke’s death grip on you loose enough for you to wiggle out of bed, but after you were successfully free you grabbed one of his hoodies to throw on over your pjs and pulled your hair out of your face with a claw clip.

you silently made your way out of the house and took a seat out on the dock, taking a quick picture of the view as the sky turned shades of pink and orange. you dipped your feet into the water before grabbing your journal, deciding it was best to write your feelings down on paper just for your better understanding of everything that has happened.

as you finished up your journal entry you noticed the sun was now peaking over the tree line, you took a picture of the view, as well as a picture of your legs with your feet in the water and the pink journal in your lap. you opened up instagram and put all the pictures you took this morning and posted them to your private instagram account, captioning it “yesterday was one of the worst days of my life, can only hope today and each day after will be better.”

you spent a few more minutes in silence, enjoying the fresh air you were getting. your trance was broken by the sound of footsteps on the dock.

“hey dear, what are you doing up so early?” you turned around to look at the man speaking.

“hi jim.” you smiled as he sat down next to you. “i’m just spending some time outside. i felt like i needed some fresh air.”

jim nodded before speaking, “i’m sorry about everything. i had no idea any of this was going on, and i am sorry that i didn’t pick up on it earlier.”

“it’s okay, don’t feel bad for not noticing it earlier. i should’ve spoken up when it first started happening.” you told him, giving him a reassuring smile.

“would you like to join me and ellen today? we’re just running some errands but it could be fun, help you escape the sausage party that has become the lake house.” jim offered, causing you to laugh at his use of the phrase “sausage party”.

“yeah i would love to.”

+++

you had gotten ready for the day without waking up your boyfriend, so you decided to continue to let him sleep. you went to your room and began packing your bags because you would be leaving in two days and you needed to begin getting ready for your departure back home. once the room was all sorted and looked like nobody was staying in it, you put your luggage back into the closet and made your way downstairs, cleaning had always been a way for you to relieve stress.

“sorry to keep you guys waiting, i wanted to clean up my room.” you told ellen and jim as you made your way downstairs.

“no need for apologies sweetie, let’s go. our first stop is breakfast.”

+++

you had gone to breakfast with luke’s parents and told them about your plans for after college.

“right now i’m planning on becoming a medical examiner.” you explained as you waited for your orders. “i just have to see if i made it into the pre-med program before i can begin properly planning my future.” ellen and jim nodded, and continued to ask some questions about how your first year of university was going and other school related topics.

+++

after breakfast they took you to the local farmers/flea market, you were excited as you had been meaning to ask luke to come along with you. as you were browsing your options you saw a couple booths near each other with fabric for sale, you quickly made your way over and began looking at what was all there. after a few moments you found the colors you were looking for.

you purchased your rolls of cloth as well as some embroidery floss in an assortment of colors because you had been meaning to stock up on it and some yarn for one of your experiments. after getting everything you made your way back towards ellen and jim, telling them what you got.

the next stop was the grocery store, with jack’s friends arriving early the house wasn’t stocked up for everybody staying over. during your morning with luke’s parents the topic of what happened the day before didn’t come up until your last stop of the day.

you were looking around a local garden shop, looking for a new plant to bring home, when ellen came up to you.

“i just want to apologize again for what happened yesterday. i am beyond embarrassed for how my sons have been treating you. you mean a lot to me, jim, and luke, and after the talk i had with them yesterday i’m hoping jack and quinn will come around as well.” you smiled at ellen, a couple tears were brought to surface when she said that you meant a lot to her.

once you and luke were gone ellen walked up to her oldest sons and they immediately knew what was coming.

“mom, please don’t-”

“no quinn! i am going to.” she sighed, “y/n means so much to luke, and for you guys to be so rude and disrespectful towards her is unacceptable. has she ever done anything to make you guys feel that way? or were these assumptions completely based on snap judgements?” ellen took her son’s silence as an answer. “y/n is good for luke, i’ve never seen him happier. he loves her enough to introduce us and allow us to spend time with her, and this is how you pay him back? you two need to figure out a way to fix this, i suggest you start with opening up the presents that y/n spent hours making for you two that you guys never had the common decency to be appreciative about, i think you’ll like what they are.” after giving them one more look of disappointment she walked back into the house to find jim and explain to him what was going on.

“i think they want to open up the gifts you made, but i never got to properly ask because their friends showed up.” you smiled at her. them opening up the gifts wasn’t going to fix everything, ellen knew this, but it was a start.

+++

it was only eleven when you returned back to the lake house, with how late everybody stayed up last night you didn’t expect anyone to awake yet, you were wrong. ellen and jim had some more places to go but didn’t want to take up your whole day so they dropped you back off at the house before continuing their list of things to do. when you got up to the front porch you heard the voices of multiple people, one being your boyfriend, and they were all yelling.

“this is all your guys’ fault! my girlfriend left because of you two and how you’ve been treating her.” you heard luke shout. you quickly realized you never informed luke of your last minute plans with his parents, you kind of expected ellen to send a message to him or to any of the boys to explain her and jim’s absence when they woke up.

“luke calm the fuck down. her car is still out front, she obviously didn’t leave.” jack’s voice was heard as you tried to open the front door, of course it was fucking locked.

“her luggage is gone, her room is spotless, it looks like nobody has stayed in it for weeks.” luke voice was breaking. you quickly knocked, more pounded, on the door needing someone to let you in. shortly after your began hitting the door it was opened, you didn’t recognize who it was so you knew it had to be one of quinn or jack’s guests.

“found her.”

you pushed past him and made your way to the living room where everyone was at, dropping your bags and wrapping luke into a hug. he noticeably relaxed under your touch, he grabbed onto you like his life depended on it and you heard muffled sobs against your neck where his face was buried into.

“i thought you left me.” he said, you were the only one that heard it he was that quiet.

“i’m so sorry luke, i–” you were going to explain what happened but you were cut off before you could continue.

“where the hell did you go?” you weren’t expecting that question, especially from who it came from. jack looked at you, anticipating your answer. you stood shocked, the genuine worry in his tone was enough to throw you off balance and leave you unable to speak. your silence seemed to just agitate him. “luke was worried sick. i get that you’re upset with me and with quinn, i do, we have been treating you horribly, but pulling this shit, causing us all to worry for you and your safety, just to get back at us is not okay.”

you felt bad, until he said that. “jack i didn’t run away as a form of revenge, i didn’t even run away, i went out with your parents. they thought i could use a break from everything going on here, and they were right.” you detached yourself from luke, your heart cracking a little bit when he whimpered at the loss of touch, and went to grab your bags from earlier. once they were in your hands again you walked up the stairs, grabbing Luke's wrist in the process. “i don’t owe either of you assholes any further explanations.”

+++

“i thought you left me because of how my brothers were treating you.” once you and luke made it into his room he broke down again, causing the guilt in you to bubble up.

“i’m so sorry baby, i would never leave you. your dad invited me to spend the morning with him and your mom and i thought it would be good to spend some time away from the house.” you said, rubbing his back as you sat in his lap, chest to chest.

after a few more minutes and a couple more apologies luke stopped crying, his sadness replaced with a slight amount of anger.

“don’t you ever do that again. i am your boyfriend, you are my guest in this house, i don’t want this to come off as insanely possessive, but i have a right to know where you are.” you could only nod at his words.

“i’m sorry luke, it didn’t even cross my mind. i wrongly assumed your mom would tell you, or that you would still be sleeping by the time i got back.”

“hey i’m not that lazy.” his joking nature allowed you to further calm down, you both got what you needed to off our chests.

“i can’t believe i called your brothers assholes.” you groaned, knowing that would probably make them dislike you even more.

“they deserved it.” luke said, giving you a kiss right after. “anyways, it was hot.”

“oh really?” you giggled, a blush forming on your cheeks as his hands began wandering.

“it’s a good thing i locked the door when we walked in.”

+++

it wasn’t for a couple more hours that you and luke went back downstairs, he thought it was time that you were actually introduced to the guests that joined you at the house.

“y/n this is trevor, cole, and alex, guys this is my girlfriend. y/n.” you smiled at them and said a faint hello, they all smiled back except for one. it was the one who asked luke who i was last night and opened the door for me earlier, the one who was now identified as trevor. he quickly went up to me and hugged me, taking me by surprise, i hesitantly brought my arms around him and gave him a slight pat on the back.

“it’s nice to finally meet you, i’ve heard many different things about you but i can already tell most of them were full of shit.” you smiled, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “well we were all planning on going out on the lake for a bit, eat dinner, watch the sunset, you two in?” you and luke both nodded before heading back upstairs to get ready.

+++

the tension on the boat was very evident, you felt bad for the three boys who probably had no idea what had happened just a day before, you’d probably feel even worse if they did know.

luke was quick to gain your attention, talking to you about the most random things. you kept up with his conversation before you noticed that jack and his friends were huddled up and whispering on the other side of the boat, you wouldn’t have been bothered if it weren’t for them constantly looking up at you before going back to their gossip session. you began to feel a little self conscious, you made an effort to cover yourself as much as you could with the one towel you could find near you. luke noticed the shift in your focus.

“is everything okay? you seem distracted, i’m sorry if you didn’t want to be near them so soon.”

“no luke it’s fine, i just feel like they’re talking about me.” you tried to subtly motion towards jack and his friends. luke just glared at them, seeing what you were seeing.

“here come sit on my lap, i’ll wrap my arms around you and protect you from them.” you giggled at his joking tone.

“anything to touch me huh hughes?” you poked at him once you were in his lap.

+++

dinner was served, an assortment of caprisuns and beers as well as uncrustables were on the menu for tonight. you moved up to grab some for you and luke when you got into a conversation with cole.

“so how long have you and luke been together?”

“ten months, our one year is in september.” you smiled, already excited for whatever the two of you would have planned for that night.

soon you were whisked away into a conversation, more like interrogation, about your relationship. trevor and cole sat next to you while jack, alex, and quinn sat in front of you. the oldest hughes put your boyfriend on wheel duty so he was on the other side of the boat, shooting you a worried glance each time you made eye contact with him.

“how did you meet?”

“we were in the same orientation group, we got paired together for this water balloon game.” you smiled at the memory, remembering how horrible luke was at simply catching the balloon.

“what are you studying?” quinn’s question caught you off guard, seemingly since for the past ten minutes all you’ve been asked about was his brother.

“i’m currently hoping to go pre-med, i will find out if i made it into the program in the next couple days hopefully.” you told him with a smile.

“so you wanna be a nurse or something?” trevor asked.

“no. if i wanted to be a nurse i would be in the nursing program.” you told him, taking a sip of the beer you were holding before continuing. “i’m planning on being a medical examiner, conducting autopsies, figuring out the time and cause of death of a person.” you could tell the topic of dead bodies made your small q/a crowd uncomfortable which caused you to giggle. “any more questions? or can i return to my boyfriend now?” the boys just shook their heads in response, so you got up and sat on luke’s lap.

“so how did that go? you don’t seem too tense anymore.” luke asked once you were both situated.

“it went decent, i think, they just asked about us the whole time.” he nodded at your answer. “-oh, but quinn did ask me a question about myself and just myself, nothing that had to do with you.” luke looked over at his oldest brother with a small smile, who returned it before you, unknowingly, interrupted the moment by asking luke to take some pictures of you.

+++

you spent the night in luke’s room again, the boys needed a room to stay in anyways, so you had convinced ellen and jim that staying with luke for two nights wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“i don’t want you to leave.” luke said quietly, stealing your attention away from the tv screen.

“i don’t want to leave.” you replied, shifting to face him.

“then don’t. i can guarantee my parents wouldn’t have any problems with you staying for another week or two.”

“luke i can’t, my sewing machine and all my other clothing stuff is back at my house and i’ve honestly gone a little insane just going five days without it–” luke rolled his eyes at your reasoning, giving you a look of disbelief.

“seriously, a machine is the reason you don’t wanna spend more time with your boyfriend?”

“-also i get my pre-med acceptance letter soon, if i get in, and i want to be with my parent’s when that happens and i know that they’re gonna want to celebrate with a party.”

“i think if you want to get closer to my brothers, or at least have them get to know you, you should stay here an extra week or two. they mean just as much to me as you do and i’m not saying you need to be best friends with them, but it would be nice if you guys got to know each other more and spend more time together.”

silence, and eventually sleep, consumed the two of you. both knowing an argument would only start if you continued to talk about it.

+++

you woke up in an empty bed, frowning you got up and looked around the room to see if he was at least still in his bedroom, he wasn’t. you got up and began getting ready, throwing a pink bikini and some jean shorts before braiding your hair.

once you were downstairs your boyfriend was still nowhere to be found, you made your way outside where you saw his brothers and friends, luke was not with them.

“hey guys, do you know where luke is?” you asked the group, hoping one of them had an answer for you.

“he left like two hours ago, didn’t mention where he was going though.” jack answered, you nodded. “if you would like to join us, we were planning on going wakesurfing today, i don’t want you getting bored in the house by yourself.” you smiled at his offer and accepted, telling the group to give you a few minutes so you could grab some things for the boat, sending luke a text on your way back into the house.

to: luke <3

hey, where are you?

to: luke <3

i’m going on the boat with your brothers and friends so wish me luck lol

you packed your bag and joined the boys outside who were already on the boat waiting for you.

+++

an hour later you still hadn’t received a response from luke and you were getting worried.

to: luke <3

are you okay?

to: luke <3

i find it funny that yesterday when i did this exact thing you said you had a right to know where i was at all times, do i not have that right either?

“y/n do you wanna try it?” my attention was drawn away from my phone to look at cole.

“sure, i don’t know what i’m doing though.” you replied, moving to take off your shorts and put on the life vest.

“didn’t do it before we got here?” alex asked.

“no, i had other things distracting me.” i glanced over at quinn who gave me an embarrassed smile before speaking.

“i’m sorry for that, i really am, it was uncalled for.” you just nodded in response, not really wanting to talk about it in front of everybody.

+++

you sucked at wakesurfing. you were able to keep your balance for thirty seconds at most before you slipped, or the one time trevor tackled you into the water. which of course was filmed and posted onto trevor’s story, the embarrassing scream you had let out was now viewable to his thousands of followers

once you guys got off the boat you quickly made your way inside to see if luke had shown up yet, he still hadn’t. you quickly opened your phone to call him but got no response, now you were mad. you two had talked about the importance of communication and the risks of not knowing where the other was yesterday, and here he was doing the opposite of everything he asked of you yesterday.

to: luke <3

idk what the hell you’re doing right now but it has now been six hours since i’ve woken up and you’re still nowhere to be found and no one has heard from you.

to: luke <3

i’m going to dinner with your brothers, so wish me luck, and if i don’t hear back from you by the time it’s dark i will send in a missing persons report.

to: luke <3

just lmk you’re safe.

you weren’t planning on leaving for dinner for a couple more hours so you spent some time getting the proper measurements for some clothes you would be working on, as well as studying up on how to knit a sweater since you would be trying that for the first time when you went back home.

you didn’t change for dinner, just throwing one of luke’s michigan shirts on top of your swimsuit and putting your shorts back on. soon you made your way downstairs where it was just quinn waiting, everyone else apparently still getting ready. when you saw it was just him you quickly tried to make a run for it and go back to your room.

“you know you don’t have to avoid me, i think it’s about time we talked anyways.” quinn’s voice stopped you from going up the stairs. you wanted to keep walking away, you really did, but you knew you needed to have the discussion. you made your way back into the living room and sat on the couch seat furthest away from quinn.

“ok let’s talk.” you started once you sat down. “can you tell me why you did what you did?”

you got straight to the point, not wanting to spare any time.

“i was just looking out for my little brother, i didn’t know you.”

“-you still don’t know me. the only information you know about me is my name and that i’m an aspiring pre-med student at michigan.” you interrupted quinn, earning a glare in your direction.

“yes. i still don’t know you, but i’m hoping that in the next two weeks that you’re staying here i can get to know you.” he finished speaking with a sigh, like it almost pained him to say those words.

“wait what? i’m leaving tomorrow to go home, i’m not staying for an extra two weeks.” you were confused, your parents were expecting you home in the next twenty four hours.

“luke told me this morning that there was a change of plans and that you were going to be staying an extra two weeks.” quinn said, equally as confused. “did you not know this?”

you could only shake your head as an answer while you pulled your phone out to text luke.

to: luke <3

i don’t know if you were trying to surprise me with an extra two weeks at the lake house but i told you i couldn’t do that, my parents wont allow it.

from: luke <3

*image*

i’m with your parents right now, they said it’s okay. i’m at dinner with them though so i’ll talk to you later, but please wait to yell at me until i’m back at the lake house tonight. i’m gonna hit the road soon.

“that little shit.” you muttered, making quinn laugh.

“what did he do?”

“he has been ignoring my texts and calls all day, which is a problem on its own especially because of what happened yesterday, and now he is at dinner with my parents five hours away in my hometown convincing them to let me stay here longer than what was planned.”

“you don’t want to stay here longer? is it because of me and jack? because i meant what i said on the boat, i really am sorry. no matter what the circumstances were, i took it too far. i’m shocked it took you so long to call us assholes.” quinn’s last comment makes you laugh.

“i’m not gonna lie, you two are partially why i want to leave, but also because i know that next week more of your guys’ friends will be here and that ellen and jim are leaving, i just don’t want to intrude.” quinn nodded at your reasons.

“well if you do stay i think it would be a good time for me to properly get to know you, i would say that we could just start over and forget everything that happened…” he trailed off waiting for an answer from you.

“-not a chance. what you, and jack, did was not okay. i forgive, but i don’t forget.” before quinn could say anything in response the rest of the boys came downstairs and we all headed out to the cars to go to dinner.

+++

dinner was another interrogation, but this time it was almost all questions about you.

“so what do you do for fun?” that can be a loaded question, alex asked you it in hopes to be able to spark more conversations about things that might tie to your answers.

“well i like to design and create clothing, or add things to a boring sweatshirt from the thrift. i do lots of upcycling with things i find at goodwill.” you answered, not knowing how they would respond.

“do you have any pictures of things you have made in the past?” cole asked this time, you nodded and got out your phone. showing them some pullovers you had embroidered things onto, the swimsuits you had made from scratch for you and luke, the apron and hand towels that were gifted to ellen, as well as the ties and matching pocket squares that you made for the hughes boys.

“oh that’s the set you made for my dad.” jack said before pausing, noticing the embroidered initials and numbers on the ties next to the one his father owned. “were those our gifts?” he had gotten so quiet you were shocked you were able to hear it.

“yeah they were, still are if you want them, luke told me the colors of your teams and i went from there to make them.” you told jack before looking at quinn who had a matching look as his brothers.

“can’t believe you ever made gifts for them after how they had treated you.” trevor’s joke made you wince, it seems like they don’t know the full story.

“well i didn’t do it to get on their good side, i did it just because i thought this would be something they would enjoy, something personal to wear before games or at events, and creating things for people is something i really enjoy.” you kept your head down while talking, not wanting anyone to see the emotion in your face. the waitress soon brought everyone’s food out, you thanked anything and everything that lived up above as something was there to distract everybody for the time being.

+++

once back from dinner you went to hangout by the docks and watch the sunset, the boys had dropped you off per your request because you desperately needed some alone time. after the sun had fully set and you were pleased with the photos you had taken, you decided to go for a swim, stripping off your shirt and shorts, shivering as the cold breeze of the night came over you. you didn’t give yourself time to rethink your actions and jumped into the lake, you were freezing but it felt good. the cold being exactly what you needed.

you don’t know how long you were out there before you heard the sliding door open.

“babe are you out here?” luke’s voice brought immense comfort over you, it felt like it had been days since you’d last seen him. slowly swimming towards the steps you made yourself known.

“yes” you shouted, stepping out of the water and onto the dock. luke quickly made his way towards you, stopping once he was at the end of the dock and could see what you were wearing.

“you look really hot in that swimsuit.” you blushed at his compliment, and at the way his eyes were raking over your body. “you shouldn’t be able to look this hot babe.”

“oh really?” you said stepping closer to him, looking at his lower half to see if he had anything in his pockets, he didn’t. “well, we should do something about that then.” you reached out to grab his shoulders and turn him around, leaning in for a kiss, but before your lips could touch you shoved him into the water. “that’s what you get for ignoring me all day.”

you jumped into the water a few moments later, luke’s shocked face making you laugh harder.

“what the hell y/n.” luke asked once the shock from the cold died down in him.

“it seemed like you needed some cooling down, also you spent the whole day ignoring me and then went behind my back to get me to stay an extra two weeks.” you replied, swimming up closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“i have a surprise for you when we get back inside to make up for it.” luke’s arms instinctively wrapped around your waist.

you stayed like that for quite some time, luke filling you in on his day and vice versa.

“so quinn apologized to you and said he wanted to get to know you during the rest of your stay?” you nodded at his question, making luke’s smile grow wider than it already was. “that is so great y/n.”

as you were about to add something to what luke had said the sound of footsteps made you close your mouth.

“yeah mom they’re out here.” jack yelled back in the direction of the house. “you two are in trouble, get inside.”

+++

“so luke, do you see you and y/n lasting? like once you start in the NHL?”

you weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but you knew that you had woken up while luke’s brothers were grilling him about our relationship. you didn’t open your eyes, you knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but they should know the risks of talking loudly while someone sleeps a few inches away from them.

“i do see us lasting, for a long time. i know you guys might think this is premature but i can see myself spending the rest of my life with her.” luke’s words made your heart rate pick up, “i want her to come to new jersey, but after she has completed all her schooling. i can’t ask her to give up her education for me, it means too much to her.”

“but if she goes pre-med she will have a lot more years of school, it’s an extra four years and usually more. could you wait about ten years for her? is she worth it?”

“y/n is absolutely worth it, i don’t care how long it takes for her to finish school she is it for me.” tears had started to well up in your eyes, you couldn’t pretend to be asleep anymore.

you shot up from your spot on the couch and tackled luke in a hug, you had never doubted luke’s commitment for you, but to hear him say it, especially to people who aren’t the biggest fan of you meant a lot.

“i love you luke.” you whispered, a few tears spilling out.

“i love you too baby.”

you both missed the look his brothers gave each other, a look that said “maybe she isn’t so bad”

+++

you didn’t make it into the pre-med program. your parents had opened the letter with you over facetime, you were crushed. yes you could apply next year, and every year after that until you got accepted, but you didn’t want to do that, you wanted to get into the program after one try and that didn’t happen.

luke was there for you, he held you while you cried, comforted you when trevor accidentally got you a congratulations balloon thinking you were accepted, and stayed with you during the days even though you knew he wanted to spend time with people that weren’t you.

one day you did force him to go out on the lake, dylan and mackie had arrived that morning and you know he wanted to hang out with them, even though he told you he was happy to spend the day with you. you spent a lot of the day cleaning, with ellen gone the house started to look like only teenage boys were staying there. once you were done with that you made lunch and headed back upstairs to finish your next task. after plenty of talks with your parents, and a few emails with your advisor, you decided to change your major to business. all your life you’d been making clothes, you thought you might just make a career out of it because you enjoy doing it so much. you hadn’t told anyone other than your parents, you were scared to. you didn’t want anyone, more specifically luke, to think you were giving up on becoming a medical examiner just because you got one rejection letter. and you did what you did best when you were anxious about something, you made clothes and cleaned. when luke went back to your hometown last week he grabbed your storage tote full of all the essentials, your sewing machine, the brand new embroidery machine your parents bought you to celebrate completing your first year of university, and way too many fabrics. while you’ve been bunkered up in luke’s room, not wanting to face the world just yet you’ve made lots of items. ties for jim, a sweater for ellen, another bathing suit for luke, and today you were determined to make matching shirts for you and luke. you started with making basic white tee, you could’ve easily bought them but there is no fun in that, and then you decided to do a heat transfer of the design you picked out.

they were gonna be gag gifts, every year one of the frats hosts a “twin” party where you and your date show up in matching outfits and this year you and luke were going together. your shirt would say “i 🩷 my boyfriend” with an image of the two of you on the back, and his would be the exact same but with girlfriend instead of boyfriend. the creation of the shirts didn’t take as long as you thought it would, so now you were looking for more things to do, you weren’t able to make a decision as luke’s door was opened by jack.

“hey me and quinn are going to get ice cream, would you like to come?” you accepted their offer, knowing that you needed to get out of the house.

it didn’t hit you that this would be the first time you would be alone with luke’s brothers, ever. sure you had your conversation with quinn the other night, but now that jack was here it made you just as fearful, a bit more even.

+++

“so what did you do today? i know that luke went out with dylan and mackie, we haven’t been seeing you much.” jack said once you all sat down for ice cream.

“well i assume you guys heard that i did not make it into the pre-med program so i’ve just been in a small slump lately–” you were cut off by quinn.

“we actually didn’t know, but that makes sense why trevor felt so guilty about the balloon he got you.”

“yeah, but today i actually switched my major. i’m gonna study business now, possibly entrepreneurship, i decided to pursue a career more based on starting my own clothing company.” you told the boys, who glanced at each other.

“well that is amazing, congratulations. have you told luke yet?” jack asked, beating quinn to speaking.

“no, you guys are actually the first people i’ve told, trying to avoid others thinking i’m giving up on pre-med.” the boys nodded at your reasoning, quinn decided to fill the silence this time.

“luke told us he brought up your clothing stuff, have you made anything?”

“yeah, i’ve made a couple ties, some shirts, a sweater, and a swimsuit.” you laughed at their shocked faces. “i’ve had a lot of free time since i haven’t been leaving the house.”

+++

it had now been five days since you switched your major and you still hadn’t told luke, even if you wanted to tell him you probably wouldn’t have the time to since he has been with dylan, mackie, and the couple other michigan players that have arrived at the house. this is one of the reasons why you didn’t want to stay any longer than a week, you knew luke was going to become distant when his friends showed up.

waking up to an empty bed became normal, luke and the other boys would do some training in the mornings. so like you did yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, you got up and made your way downstairs to make breakfast. quickly distracted by the mess that had been made from what you assumed were smoothies or homemade protein shakes. you silently cursed whoever made the mess while you cleaned it up, then moving on to do some laundry. towels and swimsuits had been piling up in a very overfilled basket and you knew none of the boys were gonna do it. once the load was in you moved on to tidy up the living room, folding blankets, fluffing pillows, vacuuming.

“stress cleaning?” you whipped your head around to see jack sitting on top of a freshly fluffed pillow and unfolding a blanket.

“no, why would you think that?” you said, while walking over to get him off of the loveseat to make it presentable again.

“because you still haven’t told luke about switching majors and the more you hold off the worse you think he is going to react.” jack stated, “also, you just kicked me out of my seat to do whatever the hell that is.” pointing to you as he sat down on the floor.

you scoffed and stopped karate chopping the throw pillow once it looked nice enough. “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“just tell him y/n, i’m serious. he is only going to be more hurt the longer you take to tell him, and you don’t wanna hurt my brother, i’ve just started to like you.” he smirked when you glared at him.

“haha very funny jack.”

“what’s got you so scared to tell him anyways?” jack asked in a much softer tone of voice, patting the spot on the carpet next to him.

you sat before sighing. “i don’t want him to think i’m giving up on something just because of one small hardship. all the time i hear him bragging to his teammates and friends about how his girlfriend is super smart and is gonna be the best doctor for the dead in the world one day, i’m scared to disappoint him.” you felt a couple tears in your eyes before you continued to speak. “i’ve seen him researching med schools near newark, one’s that have the best program for medical examiners. he believes in me, he knows i could do this even if i don’t, and i don’t want him to think i’m dumbing myself down to a bachelors in the most basic study field ever.” by the end of your small rant the tears had begun falling, they weren’t sobs but they were there.

“y/n, luke loves you so much. you getting a four year degree in business is not going to change that, yes he is your number one supporter when it comes to you becoming a medical examiner, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be your number one supporter when it comes to you being a fashion designer, or whatever it is you want to do i’m a little confused.” you laughed as jack continued. “do you know how much shit me and the guys have given him for some of the things he wears, we don’t even call him luke anymore he is just “simp” to us now, but he doesn’t care about that, he cares about you and your happiness, and if getting made fun of for wearing matching swimsuits with you or wearing a hat with your initials on it means making you happy, he is going to do it. he will be there for you no matter what because he loves you, and i can see why he does. you’re an amazing person y/n, and i’m so sorry for how i have been treating you over the past ten months. i know that sorrys aren’t enough to make up for what we did to you, but i hope it can be a start to us becoming friends because i need more people to bother luke with me.” you smiled and pulled jack into a hug, thanking him for the apology and kind words as well as forgiving him.

“one more thing, did he really refer to you as a future doctor for the dead?” jack asked, laughing a little.

“yes, it was so funny.”

+++

you and jack decided to watch a movie while you waited for luke to come back from training, quinn soon joined you two on the floor after he had woken up. it was nice, there was no awkward tension, no glares being thrown in your direction, you felt like you were all getting along for the first time and that made you smile.

“um why are you all on the floor?” dylan’s voice cut the peacefulness that had come over the three of you, all three of you quickly looked away from the tv to see the boys all back from training. you made eye contact with luke who was looking at you with a shocked, but very happy, expression. you just smiled and gave him two thumbs up, before turning towards jack and quinn to excuse yourself. you made your way to luke and gave him a kiss and grabbed his hand to take him upstairs, but not before telling jack to switch the laundry loads for you.

+++

once you were in luke’s room he began asking you questions about what he had just walked in on.

“well i was stress cleaning and jack walked in on me doing it and somehow got me to tell him about all my problems, if hockey doesn’t work out for him you should tell him to join the counseling field, but after i went a mini rant about what i’ve been fixated on lately he apologized and we talked everything out and i think we are officially on good terms.” you said in one breath, smiling as luke wrapped you up in a hug.

“what about quinn? is everything okay between you two?” you nodded and explained that you had talked it out with him a couple days ago.

+++

you and luke started getting ready for the dinner party that the hughes brothers were invited to and you were going as luke’s plus one, you didn’t fully understand what it was for but all you knew was that it was a semi-formal event, making it the perfect opportunity to have luke wear the tie you made him a few days prior, the one that matched your soft pink dress.

as you were doing your makeup luke spoke up again, going back to your conversation from before.

“wait babe, you said that you were stress cleaning. what are you stressed about?” luke asked, walking into the bathroom and leaning against the counter. you looked at him through the mirror and continued applying mascara as you told him.

“about a week ago, after i got the rejection letter, i switched my major to business and entrepreneurship, to pursue a career in fashion. i didn’t tell you because i was nervous on how you would react, and the longer i kept it from you the more stressed out i got. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner, i know how excited you were to be dating a genius and now i’ve let you down.” you looked at his face to see his reaction, but his face wasn’t telling you anything.

silence took over the bathroom as luke tried to find the right words to say.

“you could never let me down y/n, yes i am a little upset that it took you so long to tell me, but i understand why you did it. i am proud of you and everything you have accomplished so far. so med school isn’t for you? you are going to kick ass in the fashion industry babe, they won’t know what hit them.” he smiled at you before wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his head on your shoulder. “i love you y/n, never doubt that.”

“i love you too luke.”

+++

you and luke sat in the living room waiting for his brothers to come downstairs, you began to get a little antsy as you feared you would be late if you didn’t leave in the next five minutes.

“would you two hurry up! y/n is pacing back and forth cursing you guys for making us late.” luke yelled up to his brothers, who quickly made their way downstairs.

“sorry we weren’t sure how to tie these ties.” quinn said once they were both at the bottom of the steps.

you looked up at them and instantly began smiling. “you’re wearing them.”

jack and quinn looked at you, both with huge grins on their faces, before pulling you into a hug. they were wearing the ties you had made them for the holidays, nearly a year ago.

“we love our gifts.” and “better late than never” were said but you weren’t sure who said which.

you quickly called for luke to stand with his brother so you could take a photo of the three of them.

“you better post that on your main y/n, show the world you have the coolest future brother in-laws ever.” jack shouted as he raced luke for shotgun.

you don’t know how you got so lucky.

+++

note: OMG it’s done. this was a bit hard to write because the whole time i was horrified it would flop or people wouldn’t like it, and i’m still horrified lols (the ending is so rushed i don't like it). anyways i hope you enjoyed, feedback is so greatly appreciated. it lets me know what i’m doing that people like and what i could be changing about my writing. just hoping this one does number like lucky did. have a great day, love y’all babes <3!!

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #New Jersey Devils #ahonice writes #jack hughes #quinn hughes

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fettuccinealfred0 · 5 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 3

Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 8.4k

(CW: general vampirism, period typical sexism, forced marriage)

Summary:

“How dare you?” You shoot back at him, stepping to the side to move around him. He mirrors you, stepping to the side as well, and continuing to block you. Growing frustrated with his antics, you narrow your eyes, “I have been nothing but polite and civilized since-”

“Ah yes, polite and civilized, the first two adjectives anyone would use to describe you.” Astarion interrupts. “Certainly not obstinate and combative.”

His face is stern as he looks down at you and while the words themselves are a bit insulting, he says them with a hint of fondness that makes you think he might enjoy ‘obstinate and combative.’

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For as desperately as you tried to escape your room when you were first locked in, you spend most of your first week as Lady Ancunin holed up in your room (sans locked door). The estate was just too big and too foreign and your room felt like the only place that was exclusively yours, the only place where you could sort through all your confusing thoughts about Astarion without constant reminders of him that only served to muddle your mind further.

Early on in your life, you had decided that you would only bind yourself in marriage to someone you could love, someone who you could trust to understand you. You were unwilling to compromise your morals for just anyone- to trade the servitude of a daughter for the servitude of a wife. As skeptical and strong-willed as you may be, you were not completely immune to the charms of love. A young, romantic heart raised and nourished on happily ever afters had led you to believe that it was possible for you, too- for the idea of a life forever trapped under your father’s influence seemed unbearable.

And at the ball, you had grown careless, had been so charmed by Astarion’s shiny veneer that you didn’t think to dig into the rot hidden underneath. No, Astarion had offered you the hope of love and laughed as he tore it away from you.

You let yourself be mad at Astarion- he was everything you wanted, everything you could see yourself growing to love in a person. Of course his good looks and charms endeared him to you instantly, but that was all decoration which held no real substance. No, you had liked him because he had listened to you, he had respected you, and most of all, he had matched you. In a world where women were always looked down upon, you thought you had found someone who viewed you as an equal.

But, you remind yourself, a vampire could never truly view a human as an equal. There was a predatory dynamic inherent to that relationship which could never be escaped. For as much as Astarion might claim to respect you, he still sees you as something beneath him, something to be devoured. And for as much as you might have initially admired Astarion, you would never be able to forget the danger that surrounds him.

With your trust already broken by him, you were unwilling to believe he could be entrusted with something as sacred as your life. Already, so much of your life has been controlled by men- you deserve to be in charge of your own fate for once. And hadn’t Astarion been the first to offer you that choice?

With a sigh, you force yourself to clear your mind and focus on the task at hand. Shadowheart, the miracle worker that she is, managed to convince your father to send over all of your belongings. Since the chests had arrived this morning, you were spending the day sorting through everything and organizing your books on a bookshelf that Shadowheart had somehow procured for you.

Nestled carefully in the middle of a hollowed out book is the entire reason you had asked for your belongings- the necklace from your mother. Your idiot of a father must have been so pleased to be rid of you that he hadn’t even bothered to go through your things before he shipped them off.

The dark green gem shines as it catches the sunlight that streams through your windows and reminds you of sunshine filtered through the canopy of the forest. As you look at the gem, you think of the happy afternoons as a young girl where your mother had taken you and your brothers out to play in the lake, how you used to chase after the older boys on your much shorter legs before they grew tired of your whining and took turns carrying you on their backs. Your mother used to tease you that you would always be chasing after your brothers, for better or worse, and your brothers had laughed at that, back before your father’s displeasure at having to raise a daughter had poisoned their minds, too.

You clasp the necklace around your neck and press your hand to where the gem sits over your heart. For a moment, you can almost feel your mother’s heartbeat alongside your own- a lovely, warm flutter deep beneath the aching of your chest.

But it feels wrong. Like some hidden weakness was on display for the world to judge. And of course Astarion would be the type to judge. Pretentious asshole.

As you glance around the room, your gaze catches on the golden wedding band that had been sitting on your bedside since you had pulled it off after the wedding. It felt too tight where it had wrapped around your finger- a noose that threatened to strangle you. But you felt too naked without it, as if this momentous upheaval in your life needed to be marked on your body by a silly gold band.

Finally, it seems as if you have found a compromise. Carefully, you slide the green gem off the chain of the necklace and place the gemstone back inside the hollowed out book. Taking great care, you arrange the book on the shelf as inconspicuously as possible, hoping that no one else will find your little hiding spot.

You slip the wedding ring through the necklace chain, letting the cold circle of metal settle over your heart.

—-------

It doesn’t take long for you to get bored of your room- your curiosity urging you to explore the rest of the manner and overriding the dread of running into Astarion.

You last about three hours exploring before you catch sight of Astarion walking toward you in a hallway. When you see him, you debate turning around or ducking into a room to avoid him, but he’s already locked eyes with you, grinning like a cat that just found a new mouse to play with.

“What? No vicious insults to hurl at me this morning? I was almost looking forward to it,” he mocks as he blocks your path.

“Ah yes, polite and civilized, the first two adjectives anyone would use to describe you.” Astarion interrupts. “Certainly not obstinate and combative.”

His face is stern as he looks down at you and while the words themselves are a bit insulting, he says them with a hint of fondness that makes you think he might enjoy ‘obstinate and combative.’

“Well, you’re manipulative and arrogant!” You retort, crossing your arms over your chest. Admittedly, you are maybe not making the best argument against being called combative.

“So creative, darling. I’m sure no one else has ever dreamed of calling a vampire manipulative or arrogant,” Astarion says, arrogantly.

There’s an excited thrum in your veins, like when you had talked and danced with him at the ball. Apparently, it didn’t matter if you were competing with Astarion to see who could charm the other better or who could insult the other better- the battle of wits set your insides aflame.

“My lack of creativity has more to do with you being a garish caricature of your kind than any lack of vocabulary on my part.”

“Garish? That’s a new one. I’ve been accused of being many things, but my taste has never been in question before,” his voice has that low, suggestive quality and the way his eyes rake up and down your body implies that his tastes most certainly include you.

“Really?” you look around for dramatic effect, squinting to inspect the heavy curtains that block the sun, “Because I actually think what you need is some more cobwebs and skulls around here. Maybe some bats? I think that would really add to the macabre, haunted aura that an evil vampire lair needs.”

Astarion’s lip twitches up at the side, just a flash before he’s glowering down at you again, but it’s enough to know that you’d bested him.

Current score: 0-1, in your favor.

Except, okay, maybe Astarion did get a point because he managed to trick you into marrying him… You weren’t willing to give him more points for the whole butter knife debacle that it could probably be argued that you lost.

So, you’re now tied at 1. That gave you plenty of time to win whatever little game it was that Astarion was insisting on playing with you.

Astarion lets out a bored sigh, as if you had been the one blocking him and wasting his time in the hallway and not the reverse.

“As much as I would love to stand around all day and discuss your interior design visions, I have better things to do. Have a good day, dearest.”

You continue on with your exploration with a bit of a pep in your step at getting Astarion to almost crack a real smile. And when you realize that your run in with Astarion, of all people, might actually be the highlight of your day, you are plunged into a despair so great you feel as though you are drowning. How dare he be a bright spot in your life? Not when you had resolved to hate him forever.

But, you’re determined to make the best of a bad situation- especially now that you aren’t locked in your room anymore. Astarion is still manages to leave your head and your heart spinning every time you talk to him.

You must constantly remind yourself that his beauty is a trap- meant to take you off guard, meant for you to offer up your neck to him for a kiss, only to be surprised by the fangs that sink in instead. It is part of his game to repeat the act over and over, to charm you and beguile you as he did at the ball so that you forget the monster hiding underneath. You are not immune to this trap, but you are determined to outsmart it. Better to believe he is constantly tricking you than to foolishly succumb to his enchantments again.

You might be a bit fuzzy on remembering all the rules about vampires, but you’re pretty sure that they’re unable to go out into the sun. And based on the thick curtains that cover the windows during the day and the time that you saw Astarion nearly run away when a stray beam of sunlight had made its way through a crack in said curtains, you’re fairly certain that bit of lore is true.

To avoid him and the perplexing thoughts that inevitably follow interacting with him, you spend a lot of time in the gardens. It’s easier that way, separated from Astarion- where his beautiful face and sweet, insincere words can’t leave your mind spinning.

And because you’re still mad at him, some days you hope that he is able to look down on you and watch how the gentle warmth of the sun caresses your skin. You hope he’s seething with jealousy, pouting and stomping around like an angry child that the sun will get to touch you in a way he never will.

The servants don’t really bother you in the gardens. Shadowheart does stop by every couple hours to check in on you or bring you tea or food. Gale stops by sometimes, too, for a bit of conversation. Or rather, he talks at you for a bit. He seems to really like the sound of his own voice but he’s friendly enough, so you humor him.

Your favorite companion is Gale’s cat, Tara, who likes to curl up in the sunlight next to you or press her head into your hand when she would like to be pet.

It takes you a couple weeks to work up enough courage to finally squeak out anything more than a ‘hello’ when you pass the gardener, Halsin. At first, you were a bit scared of the giant, imposing man. But, it only took one or two short conversations before you realize that he’s a total sweetheart, incapable of insincerity or cruelty. The exact opposite of your husband.

A part of you wishes that perhaps you were married to Halsin, a man who is filled only with kindness down to his very soul. A man who wouldn’t leave his wife doubting where she stood, doubting the truth in every word he says.

You ask Halsin to teach you how to work in the gardens and you start joining him on his tasks some mornings.

Today, the sun sits high in the sky and the ribbon of your sunhat tickles your skin where it is tied under your chin. Alongside Halsin, you work on pruning the expansive collection of rose bushes. Every color you can imagine must be present in the garden and as you admire the blush pinks, sky blues, and variegated white that leads to lavender purple, Halsin points out the varieties with the silliest names.

“You have an uncanny talent for avoiding the thorns,” Halsin points out. His own careful hands are littered with little scratches and yours remain unmarked.

You scoff, remembering your first conversation with Astarion. “A rather unfortunate and useless talent of mine. Around here, I find it would be more useful to be adept at avoiding a vampire’s fangs.”

Halsin gives a deep chuckle at that and damn it if his mood isn’t infectious. In seemingly no time at all, he managed to erase the scowl from your face that was brought up at the thought of Astarion and had you giggling next to him.

“I believe we have eyes on us,” Halsin observes, an easy smile on his face as he looks up to a darkened window in the corner of the manor.

You only spare a quick glance. The window is dark and impossible to see through, surely coated with some special paint that allows Astarion to look outside without being burnt to a crisp by the sun. Although you cannot see him, you’re sure he is watching. Halsin gives a big wave that you imagine makes Astarion fume.

“My husband,” you hiss the word, so full of vitriol and anger, “has no say over how I choose to spend my time.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s very aware that you can’t be tamed,” Halsin laughs again, deep and with his whole chest. You were jealous of how easy laughter came to him, how he was able to find joy in everything when there was this angry bubble that had been nestled in your chest for so long, ready to explode at any moment.

“I’m sure you remind him at every opportunity. I bet he has his hands full with a wild thing like you.” Halsin continues.

“Wild?” You ask, with faux indignation. “I’ll have you know I’m a very polite, very civilized lady.”

“I highly doubt that many polite, civilized ladies would spend their day with their hands in the dirt,” Halsin teases, with his signature wide, friendly smile lighting up his face.

“It’s refreshing, being connected to the earth,” you drop the joking tone and speak honestly, letting your fingers brush against soft petals of the peach pink rose in front of you.

“I think the same,” Halsin agrees, continuing to snip away at the bush next to you.

“My father never would have approved of me doing this. It’s wonderful to finally spend my days doing the things I want to do.”

You hear your words as you say them. The realization sends you reeling that evening- that for the first time in your life, you might actually feel free.

But no, you rationalize to yourself, it’s not because of Astarion that you’re living this life. It’s in spite of him.

—------------

In between reading and working in the garden with Halsin, you continue to explore.

One day, you duck into a large room at the end of the western wing, shocked to discover the portrait gallery. The room is filled with dozens of portraits that all seem just a bit too old, with nearly all the paintings dating back centuries. How long had it been since the mighty House of Ancunins had thrived?

Walking through the room, you study the Ancunins represented on the canvases, looking for any hint of resemblance to Astarion. You tell yourself this is because you are trying to determine if he’s a true ‘Ancunin’ and not simply because you cannot help but compare everything in the world to Astarion’s beauty.

Since he was so secretive, you still hadn’t been able to discern if the rumors surrounding him were true- if he really was a bastard, or some rich man from a far off land who had bought the Ancunin name for himself, or simply the last remaining child of a dying legacy. If you could just figure out this little detail, it would do wonders to cracking the puzzle that was Astarion’s mind.

Some of the paintings do bear a faint resemblance to Astarion in their features- high cheekbones and sharp jawlines. But you remind yourself that those are common features and not convincing enough evidence to prove any of your theories.

Toward the back of the room, there’s a large painting that has been covered and it draws your attention. After you pull the tapestry aside, you discover a portrait of a family- with wide, happy smiles on all of their faces. The overwhelming sense of love that radiates from the painting takes you off guard for a moment. You were used to the portraits in your family home- all stern, cold faces staring back at you.

In the painting before you, the man stands tall and proud in the background, his light blonde hair curling around familiar high cheekbones. One of his hands rests on a woman’s shoulder, presumably his wife. She was stunning, perhaps the most beautiful woman you had ever seen with her long, pale hair and shimmering blue eyes that almost seemed to dance with life.

In the middle is a son, a boy no older than seven or eight, with gentle hands from both his parents resting on his shoulders. The boy seemed to inherit the best features from both of his parents- rich blue eyes and wild, curly white hair with a cherubic smile offset by youthful, plump cheeks.

It’s unmistakably Astarion.

It’s strange to think of him like that- as a boy and not the monster that you were forced to marry. What possible could have happened to this happy little boy to turn him into the man you know?

It’s undeniable that Astarion is truly an Ancunin, but this revelation just leaves you with even more questions. How did he become a vampire? How long had he been a vampire? What caused him to suddenly come home and reclaim his title?

You wander around the gallery a bit more. There’s more old portraits of nobles and families, Ancunins long since deceased, but you’ve grown bored of them after your discovery of young Astarion.

When you make your way back to the front, you find there’s also a new addition of Astarion, the version you were familiar with. He must have had it recently commissioned because the paint looks fresh, not cracked and faded by time.

And oh, how wonderfully the artist had managed to capture him- the diligently arranged curls, the danger that simmered beneath the surface of his blood red eyes, the familiar smirk on his lips. The breath is pulled from your lungs. It was as if he was sculpted by the gods themselves as a present for humanity. Surely, this man was the universe’s magnum opus.

As you inspect the painting, tracing the curve of Astarion’s pretty nose and the soft arch of his brow with your eyes, you recall how Astarion’s reflection had been missing in the mirror when he had pursued you the night of the ball. It dawns on you that this portrait is the only way that Astarion can see himself. The realization leaves you a profound melancholy.

“It’s quite a remarkable likeness, isn’t it?” Gale’s voice interrupts your thoughts as he comes to stand next to you. You try to make it seem like you weren’t so obviously gawking at Astarion’s painting but, as usual, Gale is already busy talking again. “I don’t think the Lord was quite as impressed with it as we are. I believe he said that he looked too old but I think he just doesn’t know how to appreciate fine art like you and I.”

Gale’s insight is rather humorous because out of everyone here, Astarion seems like the kind of pretentious snob who would love art.

“I can talk to him about organizing for you to have one done,” Gale offers.

“I’ve never sat for a portrait before,” you nervously admit aloud, continuing to stare ahead and trace the painted curls that frame Astarion’s portrait like a halo.

“But your family-” Gale starts but you raise a hand to cut him off. But your family is rich and cares about status so you must have sat for a portrait at some point. Gale, like many, didn’t understand the depth of your father’s apathy toward you.

“My father was rather eager to be rid of me. I don’t think he’d want a giant portrait to remind him of his failures in raising me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gale’s mouth hanging open a bit and for the first time ever, he seems unsure how to respond. Nevertheless, he persists.

“Well, you’ll do wonderfully. It’s just a lot of sitting around and doing nothing,” Gale takes a moment to think. “Or- er- actually you might not do very well at that. You’re the type to get restless easily.”

You laugh. “I can sit just about anywhere if I’m given a book.”

“We can tie her down if we need to,” Astarion’s voice lilts in from over your shoulder, all deep and rich and making your bones turn mushy.

When you turn your head, you see him casually leaning against the doorway, as if he had just happened to run across you and Gale. Based on how hard he is trying to appear nonchalant, you doubt this is the case. More likely, he overheard your and Gale’s voices from his study down the hallway and couldn’t resist injecting himself into the conversation. Nosy vampire.

Pushing himself off the wall, Astarion comes to stand between you and Gale, who is now staring sheepishly down at his feet. There’s a sharp glint in Astarion’s eye that reminds you of a hound that’s tracking a scent. Singularly focused, solely devoted.

“And no books.” Astarion’s voice is still rich with flirtation as he reaches out a finger to trace it softly along your cheek. “The painter needs to be able to see that darling face of yours if he hopes to match even a fraction of your beauty.”

At this point, you know his words are meaningless, so why do they still leave your silly heart fluttering inside your chest?

“So, you aren’t opposed to the idea?” You ask, staring intently into Astarion’s eyes to truly gauge his reaction. He stares back, challenging you to be the one to back down first.

“Quite the opposite. A beauty like yours should be remembered forever,” he says, with that devilish grin you’ve grown accustomed to seeing. “And think of how good we’ll look up there next to one another.”

“I heard you don’t like your portrait,” you tease.

“Alas, my beauty cannot be captured on canvas alone.” Astarion finally turns away from your gaze to look at his own portrait. He sighs, forlornly, as if his beauty is some massive gift to the world (it is). After a few seconds, he wrinkles his nose, “Besides, I look much too old. There’s no way I have that many wrinkles.”

Gale shoots you an eye roll over Astarion’s shoulder and you hold back a smile. Honestly, you had forgotten he was there- too consumed in your own little world of bergamot and flaming red eyes and Astarion.

—--------------

The next day, you ask Shadowheart how she came to work for Astarion, hoping her insight will reveal even more pieces of the puzzle that is Astarion. Today’s snooping has given you an intimate peek into his mind and that you are familiar with bookends, Astarion the boy and Astarion the vampire, you just need to discover the story in between.

“The Lord has a habit of taking in strays,” she says with a grin that tells you she knows how unsatisfied you will be with her response. Of course, her answer had to be a riddle that leaves you with more questions than answers, like everything involving Astarion.

“Is no one here capable of giving me a straight answer?” you groan and Shadowheart laughs at you.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She playfully tugs on a strand of your hair that she’s pinning up for you. “I much prefer trying to watch you work it all out on your own.”

And even if Shadowheart won’t help you, you’re determined to figure Astarion out. And the best way to do that was to go straight to the source and investigate his study. Best case scenario, you find some secret diary that reveals all of Astarion’s secrets. Worst case scenario, you find out what kind of ink he prefers using.

When you hear Astarion’s soft footsteps move down the hallway, you spring into action. The door to the room is locked, which you had anticipated. Earlier, you had asked Shadowheart to pin your hair up this morning especially for this purpose. After a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure the coast is still clear, you slip a pin out of your hair and insert it into the lock, wiggling it around until you feel the satisfying click of the door.

You had only seen the room on your wedding night, when you had come to confront Astarion. It seems so much bigger without him. His presence always seems to take up so much space.

Knowing his desk will hold the most valuable information, you start there. It is filled with papers and books, but your eyes are immediately drawn to the maps. Picking one up, you feel the worn paper in your hands. The title in the top corner claims it is of the distant city, Baldur’s Gate. While you had never visited the city,, you had been raised on stories of the city as a child by your mother, who came from the Upper City to marry your father. Across the map, weird ‘X’s drawn on seemingly random locations in the city.

After you set the map back down, you pilfer through the other items on the desk, looking for some clue to decipher the markings on the maps. But, the rest of the loose pages on the desk are filled with legal jargon and cryptic notes about mysterious artifacts in looping, cursive handwriting. You should have guessed that Astarion would have beautiful, nearly calligraphic handwriting- he was meticulous about every aspect of his appearance and how others perceived him and it clearly extended to even little details like handwriting.

Apparently, Astarion was also a secret bookworm based on the piles of books on the edge of the desk. You skim the spines of the numerous books, which range from contract law to Balduran history to famous historical artifacts.

And underneath all the papers and books, there’s a single scrap of paper with an intricate drawing on it- a complicated series of circles and lines, with little patterns that look almost like letters, but not any that you would recognize. Captivated by the drawing, you hold it up to the candlelight, twisting and turning it in the hopes that it may decode the pattern’s secret meaning.

“What are you doing here?” Astarion asks, voice hard and tinted with anger.

You lower the paper to reveal his face, looking at you from the opposite side of the desk. You hadn’t even noticed him enter the room- perhaps a testament to his stealth or perhaps your senses were diminished while you were distracted by the strange drawing.

Oh, he’s mad. Almost as mad as you had seen him at the ball. His pretty brows are all pinched together and red eyes a blazing inferno.

Unsure how to explain yourself, you opt for silence. Astarion tuts in disapproval, practically ripping the drawing from your hand. As he moves to your side of the desk, he pushes you out of the way so he can sort the books back into neat little piles and tuck the papers away into the drawers of the desk. You catch sight of a leatherbound book in the top drawer before Astarion quickly locks it with a little gold key that is immediately slipped back into his pocket.

“The door was locked,” Astarion turns around to face you, sitting back against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

There’s only a foot or so of space between you but it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

“Was that supposed to stop me?”

Your response seems to amuse Astarion, who lets out a huff of laughter before he resumes studying you with narrowed, critical eyes, “And where did a little thing like you learn how to pick locks?”

“A bored little rich girl learns to do a lot of things to fill her time,” you shoot back at him.

“Oh, I bet you taught yourself how to do all sorts of things,” the smile he gives you is lecherous and your face heats at the implications. When you don’t rise to his taunts, Astarion rolls his eyes and drops the smile. “But sometimes, doors are locked for a reason.”

That was a low blow. You can feel your blood boiling beneath your skin. Though you had resolved yourself to hate Astarion forever, you had felt the two of you could grow to be civil with one another as of late. But, of course, he always had to nettle you and take it too far by bringing up the days he had kept you locked in your room like a prisoner. You still haven't forgiven him for that.

“Oh, I know all about your thoughts on locked doors,” you say, hoping the Astarion can feel your angry, burning gaze like sunlight against his skin.

“Well, if you would cooperate-” Astarion starts. Like you are the issue here.

“You mean, if I just did whatever you said regardless of my own thoughts and feelings,” you interrupt. “I will not let you break me and turn me into some little wife that obeys your every command. That is not who I am.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth again, darling.” Astarion sighs, before the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. “And I’d so rather it be occupied with something else.”

He’s deflecting, you realize. Reverting back to flirtation and sexual innuendo in an attempt to either distract you or knock you off balance. This is his way of trying to gain control of the situation again. And based on the way his hands are gripping the edge of the desk he’s leaned against, white knuckled and nearly tight enough to crush the wood, he’s barely restraining himself.

You’ve hit a nerve. But why?

Astarion probably just didn’t like that you made a good point. Deciding to ignore Astarion’s comment, you continue on with your point.

“And what will you do if I don’t listen to you? Torture me? Kill me?” You retort and his lips curl up, baring his fangs slightly.

For a moment, you almost hope you’ve sent him over the edge and this time, he will rip your throat open. You would be dead, but for one glorious moment, you would feel his lips against your neck.

Or perhaps you could reach your hand out and prick the tip of your finger on his fang. Watch his pretty mouth close around your finger as he sucks at the drop of blood. No. You lock that image very far into the back of your mind. You didn’t need to be thinking silly thoughts like that.

“At the moment, death would be preferable to this miserable existence,” you say. Which isn’t totally true. You’ve actually really enjoyed your time here so far (with the exception of being imprisoned the first couple days). But Astarion just makes you so mad and you get to a point where you can’t control your anger, where hurtful words involuntarily spill their way out of you- a wonderful trait you inherited from your father.

“There are fates a lot worse than death,” Astarion looks unimpressed with your answer, something akin to melancholy clouding his crimson eyes.

His response surprises you, completely knocking the wind out of your sails. You’re so confused that you can’t even manage to be angry anymore.

Fates worse than death. What could he possibly mean by that?

“Yes, and being married to you is one of them,” you hiss at him, trying to get this argument back on track.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He takes a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking in a deep breath. Gone is the confidant Astarion you are used to. The man in front of you just seems tired and deflated.

But his words fester deep within you, sounding entirely too much like your father and the anger is bubbling in your chest again.

“Don’t condescend to me!”

“It’s not condescension if I’m simply speaking the truth, pet,” Astarion says, looking at you as if you are an ill-behaved child. It makes you want to stomp on his foot and storm out of the room.

“If anyone told me what was going on around here, I wouldn’t have resorted to breaking into your office in the first place! I’m the Lady of the manor, it’s disrespectful to keep things from me!”

“There is nothing going on here!” Astarion lies. He’s too quick with his response, too loud in his exclamation. You know when someone is deflecting. This argument was just going to continue to go in circles.

“I’m leaving,” you finally huff after staring Astarion down for a few seconds. You are sure to knock his shoulder with your own as you leave to let him know how displeased you are.

As you walk back to your room, you catch yourself absent-mindedly reaching out to touch your shoulder that had brushed Astarion. Foolish girl.

You spend the rest of your day in your room, trying to think what Astarion could be up to. It didn’t seem like he was involved in any rituals or sacrifices. Maybe shady business dealings? It’s not unheard of for nobles to be corrupt, paid off by wealthy criminals to ignore blatant lawlessness. Though, it seems weird that he cares so much about Baldur’s Gate…

“Lord Ancunin would like you to join him for dinner tonight,” Shadowheart interrupts your musings that evening when she pokes her head into your room.

You gape at her. After your spat earlier today, you wonder if perhaps this is his attempt at extending an olive branch or if dinner was simply an opportunity to extend the argument. Either way, the thought of sitting at the table with him causes your stomach to turn. And you hate that you aren’t sure whether it turns with delight or disgust.

“I decline,” you respond, moving to close the door, but Shadowheart’s hand whips out and forces it open. She’s so strong that it won’t close, even as you push your full body against it.

“Your refusal was anticipated and won’t be accepted. I’m here to help you get dressed.”

You know Shadowheart to be as stubborn as you and unwavering in her loyalty. While she was your lady’s maid, your friend, first and foremost, she still respected Astarion enough to listen to silly demands like this. At this point, you know her well enough to know that you’re going to end up at that dinner table no matter what you say.

It’s fairly reminiscent of your wedding day, how Shadowheart dresses you up and has to practically drag you to your seat.

“Wife,” Astarion greets you with a sweet, rehearsed smile. He looks stunning, his fair hair and skin practically glowing against the dark velvet of his suit coat. The rubies that serve as the buttons pale in comparison to his bright, sparkling red eyes. The thought faintly crosses your mind that Astarion is dressed in such finery as a way to impress you.

“Husband,” you nearly snarl back at him as you sit down in the chair that’s been pulled out for you. The dinner table is outrageously long, something used for large dinner parties, and Astarion sits at the head. You’ve been guided to the seat at his right. It must be some sort of power play that he’s chosen these as your seats for the night- a subtle reminder that he’s the one in control after you had dared to defy him earlier today.

“This is ridiculous, you don’t even eat dinner!” You cry out, noticing that Astarion didn’t even bother to have a place setting laid out for himself.

“I have plenty to drink,” Astarion points out, lifting his goblet. “It’s about spending time together as husband and wife, dearest.”

When you look down at your own place setting, you notice that the butter knife is missing.

“Very funny,” you say, unamused by Astarion’s antics.

“Well, given your history, I thought it best for my safety to remove any potential knives from the equation tonight,” Astarion grins at you from over the top of his goblet and you can tell he’s very pleased with himself at this little stunt.

“And I assume you mean to further disrespect me by not placing me at the other head of the table.”

“Hardly,” Astarion rolls his eyes. “I just thought it would be easier for us to talk if we weren’t shouting at each other from opposite ends of the room.”

“Perhaps I like to eat in silence,” you counter and he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Always an argument. Must it always be a fight?” He sighs, but you think you detect a hint of amusement in his voice. “Has it ever occurred to you that I am trying to make your stay here more comfortable?”

You blink at him because no, you had never considered that. That doesn’t fit the Astarion you’ve concocted in your head- the cruel vampire lord who is controlling and manipulative.

He takes a moment to think, his mouth opening and closing a couple times before he finally says, “I know that you hold no affection for me, but I hope we can at least learn to coexist with one another.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, mind still reeling from this sudden confession that has completely shifted your entire view of Astarion, yet again. First, a handsome suitor, then a heartless monster and now… some combination of the two, a beautiful monster? A heartless suitor?

“You seem fond of the gardens,” he comments and it pulls you back to the night at the ball, when he had seen you gazing at them longingly over his shoulder while you danced.

He’s right, of course, you do love the gardens. Love checking for new blooms every day and plucking bouquets to bring up to your room. But, you hesitate to say another reason you love them is because Astarion can’t follow you out there. That there’s a false sense of freedom and safety in the light of day. A part of you is sure that Astarion already knows this. He somehow seems to know what you’re thinking before you even do.

When you don’t speak, he continues, his eyes flashing with something akin to jealousy, “You spend a lot of time with Halsin out there. “

Something like pride or satisfaction that he’s noticed and seems to care blooms within you. Though, you do feel the need to defend Halsin, who has been the consummate gentleman and one of the few people you consider a friend here beside Shadowheart.

And Tara, who is a cat.

And maybe Gale… though, you’re reluctant to admit that to yourself.

“Halsin has been nice to me. Which is more than I can say about you,” you shoot back at Astarion.

“Am I not being nice now?” He asks in a mocky, overly astonished voice, hands spreading wide in a dramatic flourish.

“Not at this exact moment, no.”

This back and forth feels more normal, more right. Not like the melancholy that had consumed Astarion earlier today.

No, you won’t let Astarion win this night by acting as the more mature person. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and eat a bite of the creamy soup that had been placed in front of you. Evidently, Astarion was committed to the knife bit and wasn’t planning to serve food that required you to use one. Which you do have to admit is at least marginally nicer than if he had served you with some meat that required lots of cutting.

While you continue to eat, you debate whether you should share a piece of information with him and see how he reacts, see if he’s willing to offer up a piece of information about himself in return. Astarion is the type to use everything you say against you, so you start small.

“I’m rather fond of walking. And I’ve always loved to read outside.” You say, catching how his face softens a bit at your revelation. “Though, I haven’t found any new books here, so I’ve been stuck rereading the ones I brought with me.”

“You like to read?” Astarion smiles lightly at you and you think that perhaps he might be trying to find common ground. Based on the number of books on his desk and packed into the bookshelves in his study, Astarion seemed to be a voracious reader, like yourself.

“Very much so,” you give him your own little smile in response.

“What kind of books do you like?” Astarion leans his chin in his hand as he looks at you, as if you’re the most fascinating person he’s ever met.

It seems ridiculous that you should be sitting at dinner with an evil vampire lord, talking about your favorite books. You still don’t feel like you know him well enough to admit to him your penchant for romance novels- that felt like the kind of detail he would tease you mercilessly about.

“Anything,” you say. It’s too overwhelming to have all Astarion’s attention focused on you, so you give Astarion a playful smile, “Though, I haven’t ever taken a crack at those legal books you seem to love so much.”

Astarion stiffens a bit at the mention of what you saw earlier in his office, but you are ultimately rewarded for your earlier attempt at civility because Astarion tells you, “I studied law when I was in school. But that was a long time ago… I have lots of catching up to do.”

While it’s a reasonable explanation, you don’t buy it. He did seem like the type to be a haughty, arrogant lawyer or magistrate, but you certainly don’t believe that he’s reading legal books just as a means to catch up. No, Astarion only did things that served his own interests- either he was in a bad contract and wanted out or he wanted to write a confusing contract to trap someone else.

Though his answer was vague, you do appreciate his willingness to open up to you a little bit. You’d have to keep giving bits of information about yourself to Astarion if it meant you found out more about him, in return. You spend the rest of the night asking each other questions, discovering likes and dislikes, finding things in common, and trading anecdotes.

Or, more accurately, Astarion tells grandiose tales that you’re certain are mostly exaggerated, but every now and then he drops the hint of truth.

And okay, yeah, some people might call that friendship- but for you, it’s a strategic interrogation of your enemy. Right?

—---------------

Early the next morning, just as the sun is beginning to rise, there’s a soft knock on your door.

You’re not sure who could be on the other side of the door. Shadowheart had already stopped by to help you dress this morning. Maybe Halsin was visiting to tell you he was going to town for the day and didn’t need help in the gardens? Or Gale had stopped by with a message from Astarion?

The last person you expected to see was Astarion himself, who seemed to be nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited for you to open the door.

“I wanted to catch you before you went out to the gardens for the day,” Astarion explains.

“Okay,” you narrow your eyes at him, suspicious of his motives. You had just reached some sort of… compromise with him last night, would he really betray you again so swiftly? You were inclined to think yes based on previous interactions.

“Come with me,” Astarion holds out his hand for you to take. “I have something I want to show you.”

Despite your suspicion, you take Astarion’s hand with your own and his skin where your palms touch, the normal human warmth missing. The whole thing feels strangely intimate. Astarion guides you to a wing of the manor you hadn’t yet explored and stops outside a set of twin doors. He doesn’t drop your hand as he turns to face you.

“If you’re so bored that you feel the need to break into empty rooms, I figured it’d be better to keep you busy,” Astarion says with a mischievous grin as he opens a door for you and guides you inside the room.

Inside is the largest, most extravagant library you’ve ever seen. You had feared that you’d grown used to opulence in your short time as Lady Ancunin, but you’re still stunned to silence at the sight. It would take lifetimes to read all the books in front of you. The bookshelves stretch to the ceiling and there’s even a second story beyond that. Beside you, you can feel Astarion’s eyes carefully studying your reaction as you stand with your mouth hanging open in shock.

“Last night, you mentioned that you had run out of books,” Astarion’s voice is so gentle when he speaks and your hand is holding onto his like a lifeline, as if he’s the only thing tethering you back to reality. You can feel tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

“Thank you. I- ” you trail off, unsure of what to say. That this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you? That you’re overwhelmed by this emotion bubbling up inside you that you can’t name, or maybe are too scared of what it will mean if you do give it a name?

“I don’t even know where to start!” You say with an incredulous laugh, already overwhelmed with the prospect of finding a book in this maze.

Astarion gives a gentle tug on your hand and you follow after him to a bookshelf, where he reaches up to pluck a book off the shelf. You follow the long line of his arm as he reaches up, transfixed by the way he moves- always so graceful, as if every motion he makes is part of some dance that only he can hear the music to.

“Here, little flower,” he says, finally dropping your hand to pass the book to you. “One of my favorites.”

Little flower. Your heart skips happily in your chest.

And oh, he had offered up that piece of information so willingly, too. You hadn’t even had to give him anything in return except a watery smile. Surely, Astarion can hear the singing of your heart in your chest.

“I’ll never find the right words to thank you for this gift,” you tell him.

“Finally, then, I’ve figured out how to get you to stop talking.” Astarion teases, his hand reaching out to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. And oh, words are said with that soft smile on his face that makes you think that he means the exact opposite of what he’s saying. That suggests that maybe he likes how much you talk, how much you challenge him.

There’s a spark of either bravery or madness inside you as you lean up to press a kiss to Astarion’s cheek. His flawless skin is soft and cold underneath your lips.

“Thank you, husband. Truly.”

Astute as he is, you know he will notice that this is the first time you’ve called him husband without a layer of disgust or anger twisting the word. That this is the first time you’ve used it in earnest and not as an insult meant to wound him.

And truly, this is the first time that you could perhaps see him filling that role in your life someday. Even if whatever’s growing inside you right now doesn’t stick around, perhaps Astarion could grow to be… a friend? Perhaps this marriage truly was the first step in achieving freedom in your life, and not the prison you first saw it as.

For the first time, you wonder if Astarion doesn’t have some evil, hidden plot like you had first assumed. Perhaps you were so hurt by his initial trickery that you have misjudged him, have mistaken his kindness for manipulation.

Because, yes, Astarion might not have been the most gracious host at first, (i.e. locking you in a room and forcing you to marry him) but maybe he simply was a lonely man who ached for company, longed for someone to understand him and see the real person beneath his carefully constructed facade. You had felt so sure you knew him down to his very core, but perhaps you didn’t really know him at all.

No. You had been wrong about Astarion. You had been beguiled by his charms at the ball and had felt betrayed when you realized that you weren’t as special to him as he was to you and you had been lashing out at him ever since.

You aren’t sure if you can trust him yet, but maybe that will come with time.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments and likes! It's so wonderful to know people are actually enjoying this story and I'm not just sending words out into the void every week lol.

Somehow, these chapters just keep getting longer and longer… The rough draft I have for chapter 5 is already 10k words and I'm nowhere near finished. Oops! Anyway, I'm not super in love with how this chapter shaped up, but I needed to transition us from point A (enemies) to point B (friendly-ish?) while also dropping some details that help set up the larger plot for the later chapters. Stick around and next Sunday we will be back to our regularly scheduled yearning!

As always, thanks to AliensNSuch on ao3 for beta-reading. She also posted some pretty cool art inspired by Chapter 1 of this story over on her tumlbr @vanillagorilala.

I'm also starting a taglist so please let me know if you'd like to be added to it!

Taglist: @ayselluna

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #x reader #til death do us part

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toournextadventure · 1 year

Text

everyone but her pt.22

Summary: A hidden part of your past comes back to haunt you. At least you've secured a special place in an unusual family's hearts. You would be paying off the debt for the rest of your life.

Word Count: 8.4k Warnings: swearing, violence, murder (in a flashback) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove

A/N: I've had a clusterfuck of a week and it's only Wednesday morning, so I'm giving y'all this 20mins early because I love y'all dearly 🫶

The sun was out, shining down and leaving a nice little burn to your skin. It was the perfect day to be running around Niagara Falls with Nicky. People were all around, the birds were out, and you were already far too full from street food. It was perfect.

“What next?” Nicky asked once you had both finished your ice creams; you had strawberry and he had vanilla.

“Hmm,” you hummed aloud, looking carefully over everything.

There were carnival games all around, those were always fun. But they cost money, so maybe not those. Go-karts would be fun, but you weren’t tall enough to drive them and Nicky was a bad driver. You could always go see the birds again, but Nicky had gotten bored. There had to be something you could both do.

Oh!

“The skywheel!” You shouted. No one could see, but your little wings flapped under your shirt.

“Really?” Nicky asked, his hand pressing gently on your back to keep your wings steady. It was comforting. “Why? You can see that view any time.”

“But you can’t,” you said. He looked down at you. “I want you to see what I see!”

“Okay,” he said with a smile, and you turned around to look at the skywheel.

It was so much fun! The birds were out, the sun was shining over the water, and the man at the bottom let you go around three times! Even Nicky had fun, pointing out people, talking about how pretty the sky was. Maybe he could appreciate the view a little better when you tried to fly without permission next time.

“Can we go to the gardens tomorrow?” You asked while you picked at the nachos Nicky had gotten. They had tomatoes on them. Yuck.

“We can,” he said. He wasn’t really paying attention to you, but that was okay because you weren’t paying attention to him either. “If you want to.”

“Are we camping again tonight?” You asked. All the tomato pieces finally rested in the corner of the paper tray and you could eat in peace.

“Yeah,” Nicky said with a sigh. “We’ll head out when you’re done eating.”

“Aren’t you still hungry?” You asked.

“Nah,” he said with a smile. “Finish it.”

“Here,” you said, pushing the tray a little closer to his hand, “I saved the tomatoes for you.”

He hesitated, but after looking at you for a minute he reached forward and grabbed a nacho. They were going cold, but you were just happy to share. You had noticed he hadn’t been eating as much since you had left Nevermore for the trip, and he definitely needed more food.

Besides, it was yummy, why wouldn’t he want some?

After watching the sun set over the falls, it was time to start the trip down to where you had both camped last night. It was a nice little spot down by the nature trails below the falls. You had met some nice people down there when you arrived. They had even loaned you a tent!

“Hold my hand,” Nicky said when the street lights were on and you were taking a shortcut through one of the alleys. “Don’t let go.”

“Why not?” You asked, but reached for his hand anyway. It was warm.

“Just don’t,” he said again. His head was looking all around, but you were very focused on the cotton candy the nice man at the cart had given you.

“A little late to be wandering around, don’t you think?”

Yours and Nicky’s heads turned quickly to see two men walking into the alley behind you. They were tall, even taller than daddy. They had some nice smiles on their faces. Were they taking a shortcut to the trails too?

“We’re just going home,” Nicky said. You opened your mouth to argue - you were going to the campground, not home - but he gave you a look that had you shutting your mouth again.

“All alone?” The other man asked with a tilt of his head. “Your parents let you walk alone at night?”

“We can help,” the first man said. “We know a nice place you can both stay.”

“No thank you,” Nicky said. He pulled your hand as he backed away, making you stumble over your own feet. You nearly dropped your cotton candy. “Come on.”

Nicky kept his eyes on the two men as he continued to pull you with him. You tried to walk backwards just like him, but you stepped on something and stumbled, dropping one of the rocks you had snuck into your pocket. Without questioning it, you turned around and bent down to pick it up, your wings fluttering under your shirt to help you straighten up again.

“Would you look at that,” the second man said, and Nicky froze. “We found ourselves a little Outcast.”

“Nicky is too!” You said.

“Y/N, hush-”

“-No no, let her talk,” the first man said. They were walking closer. “You like to talk, kid?”

“All the time,” you said with a smile. He was smiling too.

“What do you like to talk about?” He asked again. The second man was moving sideways. Where was he going?

“Birds,” you said without hesitation. “Oh, and rocks! Wanna see the ones I found today?”

“I'd love to see them," he continued. He took another step closer. "Why don't you come with us to our house and you can show us all the rocks."

"Ok-"

"-Don't touch us," Nicky interrupted, harshly pulling you behind him.

“Don’t get so defensive,” the second man said. You turned your head and saw him standing behind you both. “We just want to give you kids a place to sleep.”

“I thought you wanted to see my rocks,” you said with a huff. The men got closer.

“How about you just come with us,” the first man said as he reached out and grabbed your arm.

“I said don’t!” Nicky shouted.

He dropped your hand and ran head first, hitting the first man's stomach. They both hit the ground hard. You tried to go help, but a big pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back into a big body.

“You’re gonna stay here with me,” the second man said in your ear. He smelled funny.

But the moment the first man hit Nicky with his knee, you lunged forward. Those big hands pulled you back, but you just ducked down further and he let go. Then it was your turn to hit the first man. You knocked him off of Nicky and felt your knee scrape on the ground.

“You fucking brats,” the first man spit out. He pulled something out of his pocket. Nicky was still on the ground holding his stomach.

The moment you saw the knife in the first man’s hand, you turned around to run. You knew to run away from danger, Nicky had taught you that. But you didn’t get very far before you felt someone pick you up. One hand covered your mouth and you bit down hard.

He screamed and dropped you to the ground again. It hurt your feet. You tried to run again, but the man knocked you over. He turned you around, his body pressing you into the hard ground. You turned your head and saw Nicky fighting with the second man.

It didn’t look like Nicky was winning.

“Just stay still,” the first man said above you. He smelled funny too.

Fight back, a little voice in your head said.

What had you seen Nicky do before? He had gotten into fights before, what did he do? Oh! You threw your head forward, feeling the sharp ache when it connected with the first man’s nose. He grunted and pulled back a little bit, but then you felt something hit the side of your face.

Everything started ringing and the alley started spinning. You could feel him pressing into you again, and your wings started to hurt from the ground. Fight back, the little voice said again, so you did. You threw your arms and legs out everywhere, trying to hit something. But then you felt something sharp press against your neck and you stopped.

“Just kill ‘em already,” the second man called out. He sounded like he had been running for a long time.

“With pleasure,” the first man said above you.

No. You felt the knife press into your neck and the sting that followed. What did you do? What were you supposed to do? Nicky had never taught you how to fight a knife!

Knock it away, the little voice said, and grab it.

You thrashed around again, making sure to hit the hand that was holding the knife. The first man groaned again and you kicked your leg up. You don’t know what you hit, but he screamed and rolled off of you. You scrambled to your hands and knees and looked around.

There was the knife.

Your fingers touched the knife right when the first man got on you again. He tried to grab the knife too, his hand much bigger than yours. As soon as you felt your hand grab it, you turned around and swung it.

“Fuck!”

The first man pulled back really fast, holding his cheek. Something red was coming out from between his fingers. He pulled his hand back and you both looked at the blood, and your eyes went to the big cut on his cheek.

“You little bitch,” he said in a mean voice. “Come here.”

He lunged at you again, but you closed your eyes and held the knife out in front of you. Something hit the knife, pushing you back onto the ground again. You heard a gasp and opened your eyes.

The knife was sticking out of the man’s shoulder. He looked at you in shock before his mouth turned into a frown. When he tried to grab you, you pulled the knife out and stabbed him with it again, this time in his hand.

He reached forward, grabbing your wrist and pulled you back. But instead of pulling, you moved forward and he fell onto his back with you on top of him. Stab him, the little voice said; it sounded mean. Without any hesitation, you grabbed the knife with both hands and brought it down. And you did it again. And again. And again again again again again-

-Something warm splashed against your face. The man was screaming, so you closed your eyes and tried to tune him out. You hummed. But you kept bringing the knife down over and over and over and over and over and-

“-Y/N!”

Smaller hands held your wrists, stopping you from bringing the knife down. You opened your eyes again and saw Nicky looking at you. He had blood on his face and clothes and a few cuts all over. Was he okay?

“Let me have it,” Nicky said softly, and he took the knife from your hands. Your fingers felt stiff like they didn’t want to let go. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t know. What had just happened anyway? You were supposed to be at the campgrounds with Nicky about now, right? Why weren’t you both down there with those nice weird people from the other night?

The man wasn’t moving underneath you.

“We have to go,” Nicky said. He was looking all over. “We need to go.”

He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up to your feet. Your legs were all wobbly. Nicky grabbed your hand and started pulling you. You looked back and saw the two men laying on the ground. They were really still. Were they okay?

“We have to go,” Nicky said again as he pulled you further down the alley before you both started running-

“-Smith!”

Your head shot up from the hole you had been staring into the table. The quick movement gave you a headache and made your bruised side throb; jail had not been kind to you. Nothing could have properly prepared you for the difference between the singular Jericho cell and an actual jail down in D.C.

People here were mean.

“You’ve got another date with the detectives,” Officer Hartman called out once you still hadn’t moved.

“Better get movin’, cupcake,” your new bestest friend Erin said with a smug look that you wanted to beat off her. Again. “Hartman might scuff up that pretty face of yours.”

“What would I do without your all-encompassing wisdom,” you mumbled as you stood up, inhaling lightly as the bruises on your torso pulled.

“You sure you graduated highschool?” She asked. “Cause you’re sure actin’ stupid as hell.”

“Still smarter than you and your white trash girl group,” you said with a tilt of your head.

“Wanna say that to my face, Outcast?” Erin asked, standing abruptly to be toe-to-toe with you. In your peripheral, you could see the rest of her gang starting to circle up.

“I thought I did,” you said. She was smaller than you, but far more aggressive. Surprisingly. “I guess your ass and face look the same, that’s my bad.”

“You little-”

“-Summers!”

Erin’s fist stayed cocked and ready as Officer Hartman casually walked up to the group, one hand resting on the baton on her belt. A shiver went down your spine at the sight of it; you certainly didn’t want to be on the other end of it again any time soon.

“Everything alright over here?” Officer Hartman asked, looking between both you and Erin.

“Just showing my little friend the ropes,” Erin said with a sickeningly sweet smile. Oh, you wanted to beat that off her too.

“You can show her later,” Officer Hartman said before turning to look at you. “Let’s get going, kid.”

“See you later, girly pop,” you said with your own smile before you blew a kiss in Erin’s direction.

You’re going to get your ass beat, the voice at the back of your head said. It was almost nice to hear; it had been a few days and you were getting worried it had disappeared. Wow, you were really attempting to make friends with the voice inside your head. Did that make you crazy?

Yes. Yes, it absolutely did.

“Assume the position,” Officer Hartman ordered once you were out of the common area.

It was a bit odd to be accustomed to the cold bite of the shackles placed around your wrists and ankles. To find a certain comfort in the way they were chained to the belt around your waist. You didn’t know what the explanation was, but it was probably something you needed therapy for.

Therapy is for pussies, the voice said. You didn’t necessarily disagree.

“You gonna behave today?” Officer Hartman asked when she started leading you to the interrogation room.

“Yes ma’am,” you said confidently.

“Good girl,” she said. “Maybe we’re finally beating that arrogance out of you.”

You didn’t say anything in reply; it was better that way. But her words made your side throb again. How bad was it now? It had been two days, surely it was looking nice and ugly at this point. But you hadn’t looked at it yet; you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not that the detectives would care, nor would anyone else you were going to come into contact with.

“Welcome back, kid,” Detective Waller said when Officer Hartman led you into the interrogation room.

“Afternoon,” you said quietly as you let Hartman unshackle you and then cuff you to the half-circle thing on the table. You didn’t know what it was called, but it was kind of fun to run the cuff chain back and forth on it-

“-Stop it,” Hartman ordered.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, quickly sitting back in your seat to look at Detectives Waller and Pearce. You didn’t like them. Something about them wasn’t trustworthy.

“How you been?” Waller asked once Hartman left the room. He and Pearce seemed more laid back; you certainly did not.

“Fine,” you said. You refused to look up from where your hands were chained to the table.

A lot of precautions for a single 18 year old, the voice mused.

“I hear you’ve been making friends,” Pearce said, his voice always softer than Waller’s. “We can help you with that problem, you know.”

“You’ve just gotta tell us what happened,” Waller finished. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk. “We have proof, so just tell us how it went down.”

“We don’t need to know about the domestic,” Pearce said. “We have an entire room full of people who saw what happened.”

“Just tell us about Niagara,” Waller finished.

This again. They had been asking for over a week at that point. Why couldn’t they just let it go? You hadn’t even remembered it until they brought it up that first day. Maybe you had done it, sure, but how were you supposed to remember all the details?

“Quit looking at your hands,” Waller said harshly. “Look at me.”

And you did. You looked up at him and instantly felt like you were a kid again. The way they were both looking at you like a child about to get scolded. Like all the times when you would get in trouble with your mom and dad and be sent to your room to think about what you did.

It made you feel small.

“We’ve got your prints on the murder weapon,” Pearce said, attempting to take over the conversation. “Just tell us what happened and we can get you away from Erin.”

No he can’t, the voice said.

You kept your mouth shut.

“You’re making it pretty hard on yourself, kid,” Waller said. He leaned further; he was getting too close. “You know what happens when you refuse to cooperate?”

“You already arrested me,” you said. “So you clearly feel confident enough without a confession.” Waller narrowed his eyes. “Not much else you can threaten me with.”

“We can always have you transferred to a different block,” Pearce said with a tilt of his head.

“I hear Block C has a soft spot for Outcasts,” Waller continued.

Don’t listen to them.

“I’m sure you’d make a lot of new friends over there.” Your hands were feeling sweaty.

“You can be cellmates with Miss Byrne.”

Fight back.

Your ears were ringing.

“I think she’s in for killing an Outcast, isn’t she?”

Don’t let them do this.

Your heart wanted to jump out of your throat.

“Think she did. Five, if I remember right.”

“I’m sure she’s rehabilitated now though.”

“Probably wouldn’t even think twice to-”

“-Good afternoon, everyone.”

All three of you whipped your heads toward the door to see a man walking into the interrogation room. His dark hair was slicked back except for one or two strands hanging over his face, and his light goatee was, honestly, pretty fabulous. He kind of reminded you of Zorro.

What was Zorro doing in your interrogation room?

“Can we help you?” Pearce asked when it was clear Waller was still too busy glaring at the new man.

“Jair Moreno,” the man said with a big, bright smile. “I’m here to talk with my client.” He had a comfortingly deep voice, and a stunning accent. It reminded you of Mr. Addams.

“Client?” Waller asked.

“I don’t have a lawyer,” you said with a frown, finally able to voice something.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here, no?” He said. His smile turned less performative when he looked at you.

Don’t trust him.

“She never asked for a lawyer,” Waller continued. You almost wanted to laugh at how red his face was getting. He was mad.

Good.

“If you keep him around, we can’t talk to you anymore,” Pearce said with a smile that was a rather pitiful attempt at comfort. “We can’t help you.”

“I…” you looked back and forth between the detectives and your (supposed) lawyer. “I would like to talk with him.”

“It’s your funeral, kid,” Waller said with a huff, pushing his chair back harshly and shoving past Mr. Moreno.

“You have the room,” Pearce said quickly before following suit, though in a much less aggressive way. Both you and Mr. Moreno watched and waited until the door clicked shut again, and you were finally alone.

“My apologies for being so late,” he said with a friendly smile as he sat down in the seat across from you. “It took two days to find you.”

“I appreciate you coming, Mr. Moreno-”

“-Señor,” he corrected. “It’s a simple difference, but it makes the white men uncomfortable in these parts.” He winked as if he was letting you in on a little secret.

“Señor Moreno,” you said; the word didn’t sound as pretty coming from your mouth, but he smiled and nodded at you once anyway. “But I can’t afford you. And I never called you.”

“No you didn’t,” he said quickly, “a close friend informed me of the situation. Said you’re like another child to him.”

You wracked your brain to think of who could have possibly called someone for you. Everyone had seen you getting arrested at the Rave’N, so it wasn’t like you could pick from who had known. And you were close with a lot of parents. Had it been a teacher? No, probably not. It certainly wasn’t Sheriff Galpin; he liked you well enough, but you were also a major thorn in his side.

It’s a trap, the voice said. You physically shook your head to get it out. Now wasn’t the time for paranoia.

“I don’t know who would have called,” you finally said. He was being far too nice, it was starting to be a little creepy. Maybe it was the time for some paranoia.

“No?” You shook your head slowly, and his smile fell into something smaller, much more comforting. “Gomez Addams gave me a call.”

Oh.

“Well then I certainly can’t afford you,” you said immediately. Señor Moreno laughed a deep belly laugh.

“He said you would say that,” he chuckled. “That’s why I’m taking your case pro bono.”

“That’s not a smart business decision,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands and away from his gaze. His eyes reminded you of Wednesday’s; dark, like perfectly stained wood.

You’re going to owe them, the voice said. You’ll never be able to repay them. You’ll be in their debt for the rest of your life.

“But it is my decision to make,” he said. You didn’t look up from your hands but nodded absentmindedly.

You felt small again.

“Let’s go ahead and get down to business,” Señor Moreno said.

You nodded and braced yourself for whatever it was he was going to say. You hoped it wasn’t going to be all bad news. There was only so much more you could take.

“Let’s talk about the domestic first,” he said, and you nodded. “We won’t deny it happened, that would be foolish. But what was your emotional state at that moment?”

He blamed Outcasts; he blamed you. Your fist pounded into flesh and bone again and again and again and ag-

“-I don’t know,” you said with a shrug and another shake of your head to get the image of blood out of your mind.

“Were you aware of what you were doing at the time?” He probed. “Or did you only realise afterwards?”

“I…” you sighed. “I didn’t know until after.”

“And it happened impulsively?”

“Yes.”

“Then we shall go with an extreme emotional disturbance defence,” he said. “I’ve used it in New York, I’m sure I can find a loophole here.”

“So it’s actually going to trial?” You asked, your shoulders sagging. You couldn’t handle a trial.

“Not necessarily,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. It was almost hypnotising. He was actually pretty handsome.

Don’t be a whore.

“Now tell me about this double homicide,” he said, looking down at notes that you hadn’t even realised he had. “They have yet to declare it either a murder or manslaughter because of your age at the time.”

“Uh, I was 9- 10,” you blinked frantically. “10, I was 10. Nicky was 14.” So young? “We walked west for a few days and had a mini vacation.” The knife flashed under the street lamps. “Two guys trapped us in an alley one night and tried to kidnap us.” You blinked hard again. “Or not, I don’t know, they just tried to get us to go with them.”

“What happened next?” Señor Moreno asked. His voice was far too soft and quiet, it was unsettling. He shouldn’t be so gentle.

“Uh, Nicky got into a fight with one of them and I got in a fight with the other,” you mused as you shook your head slowly, your eyes darting back and forth but not seeing anything. “The one I was fighting pulled a knife on me, so I knocked it out of his hand and…”

The knife came down again and again and again again again again again-

“And you fought back,” Señor Moreno finished for you.

You inhaled sharply, not realising you had been holding your breath. The room suddenly felt too cold and too enclosed. Your wings itched under the makeshift harness the jail had forced you to wear. You wanted to get out. It was too much, you wanted to leave.

“A double homicide sure, but sounds like self-defence to me,” he said.

“Technically I only killed one,” you mused, blinking a few times to clear the haze so you could look back up at Señor Moreno.

“I suppose that’s true,” he said with a light laugh.

“Guess Nicky was right though,” you said to yourself. “I’ll always remember Niagara.”

“What did you say?” Señor Moreno’s head shot up from his notes. You frowned at him. “Where did you go?”

“Niagara Falls?” You said hesitantly.

“Which side?” He asked. He was leaning over the table to get close to you, his hands reaching out to grab your own. You let out a sigh; you had missed the touch of soft hands.

“Uhh,” you shook your head and your mouth flopped open and closed a few times. “The left side?”

“No no, which country,” he corrected quickly. “Were you on the American side, or the Canada side?”

“I don’t-”

“-What were the falls shaped like?” He asked. He was talking far too quickly, it was making your head spin.

“I…” your eyes swung left and right, over and over as you tried to remember.

“See that?” Nicky asked, pointing to the falls. You could see them perfectly from your spot on his shoulders. “What does it look like to you?”

“A waterfall,” you said with a giggle. He lightly pinched your thigh.

“What else?” He asked with his own little chuckle.

“Umm.” You tilted your head so you could think better. “It looks like a U.”

“It’s a horseshoe,” he said. “Pretty cool, right?”

“A horseshoe,” you said with a slow, dazed nod of your head. “It looked like a horseshoe.”

Señor Moreno let go of your hands - you instantly missed the warmth - and leaned back in his chair. His hands went behind his head and he smiled. He looked at you, looked into your very soul, and smiled. You frowned. What was he smiling about?

“You’re not going to trial,” he said with a chuckle.

“How do you know?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Your palms were getting itchy. And sweaty.

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” he said. “We have a meeting with your parents and their lawyer.”

“I can’t see them,” you said quickly, eyes going wide. “I can’t.”

“They can’t touch you,” he replied. “If they’re smart, they won’t even talk to you.”

It didn't comfort you, not really. What would it matter if they couldn’t talk to you? They would still be there; you would have to face the people who were supposed to care for you. Love you. Who should have been on your side from the very beginning, not getting you arrested.

“You’ll come back for me tomorrow?” You asked.

“Right after we post your bail,” he said with the most genuine look you had seen since arriving at jail.

“You promise?” You asked again.

He looked at you for a moment with a tilted head and slightly furrowed brows. What was he thinking? He’s not coming back for you, the voice said. But he reached out and placed gentle hands over yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“I promise on my abuela’s grave,” he said softly. Oh so softly.

It made you feel small. But in a good way.

Just the knowledge that you were going to get out was enough to make the rest of the day go by faster. You didn’t even care that Erin and her girl gang were glaring daggers at you the whole day. The only thing on your mind was getting to get out of this fucking jail and get back to the real world again.

You ignored the fact that the real world also sucked.

And that you were not prepared to deal with the real world yet.

Because you’re a coward, the voice in your head said.

You still slept like a baby.

The next morning you took your time heading to the showers; you had picked up on the fact that everyone either showered immediately, or not at all. If you waited just a little longer, the odds of you being alone were exponentially high. It worked out perfectly, and since you weren’t too worried about being late to anything anymore, you took your time.

Even though it was a bit cold by that time, it felt nice as it cascaded over your face. With your eyes closed, you could just focus on the sound of the water. The goal wasn’t necessarily to wash off anymore, just try to keep your heart and mind in check. You were almost there. Just a little longer.

The water shut off only a moment later, and you let out a frustrated sigh. Of course you hadn’t been keeping track of the time. But it was okay, you would be out soon and could get a hot shower later if you really wanted it. Now all you need to do was dry off and-

-something hard hit the back of your knees and you immediately fell to the ground. The vibration travelled up your palms and the crack of your knees on the tile resonated through your bones and, if nothing else, the bruises that would paint themselves on your skin would be stunning. Wednesday would appreciate the grotesque colours, that was for sure.

You pushed yourself up and looked down at your palms to see the already reddened, sensitive skin on the heels. It ached, and both of your forearms throbbed lightly with each heartbeat. That was going to be a pain in the ass to-

-something rough pulled tight against your neck and yanked you back off your knees. Your hands instantly lifted to pull against it, trying to get your fingers underneath to ease the pressure on your throat. You could feel yourself being pulled backwards across the slick floor until you came to a stop.

Pull it away, the voice ordered. You couldn’t breathe.

Erin stepped in front of you.

“Hey, girly pop,” she said with a grin as she crouched down to be at eye level with you. “Heard you’re leaving today.”

The thing around your throat pulled tighter; it made you choke.

“We couldn’t let you leave without a goodbye present,” one of the women behind you practically taunted.

“Maybe afterwards you’ll learn not to run that big mouth of yours.” Erin’s grin was malicious at best, downright demonic at worst.

They were smart. You knew they were. The moment they pulled whatever was choking you tighter and your hands tried to pull it down, Erin swung. A solid punch that left your ears ringing and the world spinning. The throb in your eye was instant. Only when you were truly dazed did they really get started.

They were smart.

The bruises on your side had already ached before this. Now they genuinely hurt. Each new blow and kick stole what little air you had left in your lungs, and you didn’t know what to do. Did you keep trying not to suffocate? Or did you try to fight back? You couldn’t do both, you were outnumbered.

Fight back, the voice said. But how could you do that when you felt something crack in your side and you couldn’t fucking breath-

“-What’s going on in here?”

It was as if a switch flipped in the room. They instantly released you, and you gasped for air like your life depended on it. You sputtered and coughed, falling forward onto your hands and knees again except this time you didn’t pay attention to the pain in the heel of your palm.

No, this time you were too busy trying not to choke on your own blood.

“Five to one doesn’t seem too fair.” Miss Ethel’s voice echoed off the tiled walls; it sounded fuzzy through the ringing in your ears.

Something red was going down the shower drain.

“We’re just wishing our little friend good luck in the big outside world,” Erin said quickly. At least that’s what you thought she said, you couldn’t actually tell.

“Get going,” Miss Ethel said. You squeezed your eyes shut when the volume of her voice sent a migraine shooting down every nerve in your body. “Now.”

And just like that, they left. Left you on the floor of the showers with a foggy brain and the taste of blood on your tongue. Stand up. No. No, you didn't want to stand up. You wanted to curl up on the cold ground and lay in a pool of your own blood until the foggiest eased and your throat was no longer on fire.

"Come on, baby, get up," Miss Ethel said in a far softer voice that had reminded you of Abuelita.

Her old worn hands held you by the shoulders and steadied you, not rushing you but there as a crutch. As you moved and stretched and stood up, she was there to support you the whole time. Only when you were back up to your feet did she look up at you with a frown.

"So you’re only good for starting fights, not finishing them?” She asked, looking you up and down to assess the damage.

She needs to shut up.

“Just caught off guard,” you mumbled. Your mouth filled again and you spit near the drain; it was a mesmerising dark red. “I can finish fights.”

“Not today though, I see,” she continued. “Decided to be a gentleman, did you?”

“I had it,” you huffed. Something in her eyes reminded you of someone. Someone who cared. “I didn’t need your help.”

“I can see that,” she said with a solemn nod. “You certainly look like someone who had it covered.”

You gonna let her talk to you like that?

“Listen, baby,” Miss Ethel said, her voice dropping a tone and sounding more like a friend. Like someone who cared. “Stop pushing people away. Soon they’ll quit trying.”

“They already did,” you mumbled, your head falling. Your eyes squeezed shut again as a hammer started pounding away at the inside of your skull.

“Then get them back,” she said. You didn’t open your eyes but could feel her hand on your still-naked shoulder. “All that rage and loneliness has to come out sometime. Don’t put your friends on the receiving end and keep your head up. Sad birds still sing.”

“You sound poetic,” you said, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. “Not like someone who murdered her husbands.”

“Read it in a book somewhere,” she said with her charming smile that was missing a few teeth. “Even black widows have some wisdom buried deep down.”

You chuckled lightly before inhaling sharply. Something was definitely broken, probably a rib. It was sticking into your lungs and it just hurt. Every breath, every movement, it hurt. But you took a slow, deep breath and stood up straight again.

No giving up.

“Let’s get you dressed and ready to be picked up,” Miss Ethel said. “Before anyone comes looking for you.”

Miss Ethel helped clean the bit of blood off of you and tidied you up the best she could with what she had. You picked up the towel that had been wrapped around your neck only moments before. It was rough and white. The scratchiness in your throat came back.

You looked brand new by the time you put your suit back on and was escorted out of the jail. It was weird to be wearing the suit, but you supposed it was all you had. Certainly better than nothing, at least. If it wasn’t for the newly blackened eye and broken nose and bruised jaw and… well, anyway, you would have looked ready for the Rave’N.

In theory.

“Dios mío,” Señor Moreno said when he met you outside the jail, running up to you and checking over your face.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “I just wanna go.”

“Of course,” he said with a simple nod before withdrawing his hands. “Then let’s get going.”

He led you to the front where a car was waiting, and you hesitated. These things weren’t just dangerous anymore; now they had rightfully killed Nicky. Sure, you had been in the police van on the way down, but this was… it was different. It was smaller and more dangerous.

It was scarier.

Just get in, the voice goaded you. And against everything you had, your feet carried you until you got into the passenger seat.

You couldn’t recall the ride to wherever you were meeting everyone. Nothing about it registered in your head, almost like a blackout. The only thing you became aware of was sitting down in the chair in that big empty room and waiting for everyone else to show up.

That was pretty scary.

“Good morning, Y/N,” someone said in an accented voice, and you and Señor Moreno turned around to greet everyone.

You remembered the man. Vaguely, of course. He was a friend of your dad’s, someone he had gone to law school with. Stokes; Luke Stokes. He was older now, had more grey in his hair, a few more wrinkles. If you remembered right, he had favoured you over Nicky.

But you averted your eyes the moment you saw your parents enter the room.

“You’ve certainly grown into a stunning young adult,” Mr. Stokes said with a polite smile.

“Thank you,” you said in a raspy voice; it itched your throat again. Everyone quickly sat down and you let your eyes fall to the table.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Mr. Stokes asked once everyone was settled. “You mentioned you were open to a plea deal?”

“Of course,” Señor Moreno said with his own smile. “A trial would be tedious for everyone, no?”

“I’m glad we agree,” Mr. Stokes said as he started shuffling some papers. It was an irritating sound; he wasn’t even looking for anything in particular, you could tell. “Let’s make this simple. Miss Smith pleads guilty and only serves 7 years.”

“I’ll make it simpler,” Señor Moreno retorted, leaning back in his seat. You felt his foot kick yours slightly. “She pleads guilty, pays her fine, and goes to anger management.”

“Absolutely not,” your dad cut in loudly. You flinched and reached your hand out on instinct; Señor Moreno grabbed it quickly under the table. “Assault and murder?”

“Marcus-”

“-No!” His voice was far too loud, only being drowned out by the racing pulse in your ears. “It’s insulting.”

“We have witnesses for the domestic and prints for the murder,” Mr. Stokes said. Your eyes were closed but you guessed he was trying to calm your dad back down. “Why would we let her off without a sentence?”

The domestic was a simple emotional disturbance,” Señor Moreno said nonchalantly. “Her brother had just died tragically, any juror would understand.”

“And the murder?”

“Just so happened to occur on Canadian soil.” He sounded cocky.

Watch their reactions, the voice said. Again, without any intention to do so, your eyes slowly opened and you looked up across the table.

Your dad was furious; his skin was darkened and there was a fire in his eyes. A dangerous fire. He was looking directly at you like he wanted to lunge across the table and strangle you where you sat. Maybe he did. Maybe he would.

I’d like to see him try, the voice growled. And for the first time in a while, you agreed.

“The United States would never extradite one of their own,” Señor Moreno continued, “let alone a small Outcast child who was defending herself from kidnappers.”

“Any jury would still convict,” Mr. Stokes said. “It’s a good deal, Moreno. Just accept it and let’s all go home.”

The room fell silent. A silence so thick you could choke on it. Everyone was looking at everyone else, watching, waiting to see who would speak first. You didn’t want to take the deal. Seven years in prison? Not even a jail, a prison? You could hold your own, but you would rather die than be subjected to that. There already was very little to live for. It would be the final straw.

Señor Moreno squeezed your hand before leaning forward on the table.

“We will have to reject this deal,” he said with a sigh. “A trial will be tedious, but well worth it.” He looked directly at your dad and you noticed the slightest smirk on his face. “I suppose the knowledge that my client is an Outcast will come to light during the trial.”

Your parents’ faces fell instantly. A laugh tried to bubble up from your throat, and you quickly coughed and cleared your throat to hide it. You bit your bottom lip hard as you looked back up to meet their eyes. For the first time, you saw something that almost made the pain worth it.

They were scared.

“I hope your clients are ready for-”

“-Hold on,” your dad interrupted. “There’s no need for that.”

“So you will accept our terms then?” Señor Moreno asked with a tilt of his head. You turned your head to hide your smile.

Gotcha.

He squeezed your hand again as your parents leaned closer to talk to Mr. Stokes. With another turn of your head, you looked at him. He had a cocky smile on his face that was reserved only for you. And truthfully, you trusted him.

“We’ll agree to your terms,” Mr. Stokes sighed, “but the battery remains on her record.”

Shit.

Señor Moreno looked at you again, waiting patiently for an answer. If a violent crime went on your record, you would never be able to move on. You would have to disclose it to jobs, everyone could look it up and find out. It would ruin your life.

But at least it was a life…

You nodded once.

“We accept,” Señor Moreno said quickly, holding his hand out for Mr. Stokes to shake it.

You hoped you hadn’t just handed your life over to something you couldn’t fix.

—---

The next few days were total chaos. Señor Moreno had allowed you to stay in his guest room before the next day of court. It was a kind gesture, truly it was, but the bed was too soft and the house was too quiet. There was no way to get any sort of sleep so you just stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling and letting your thoughts consume you.

Then he took you to the doctor, letting them check you over. Two broken ribs, one fractured, a broken nose, and some deep bruising. Nothing too horrifying, you had dealt with worse. The horrifying part came when it was time to pay and Señor Moreno didn’t even let you see it. He just paid for it all himself.

“Any child of Gomez’s is a child of mine,” he said with a charming smile.

It made you feel small. And a little warm inside.

Don’t get soft, the voice said, it’ll ruin you.

The day of court was far simpler than you had thought it would be. At least it was now that you had Señor Moreno on your side. The judge accepted the plea and let you off with a simple “you’re young, don’t throw your life away.” You just mumbled a “yes sir” and left with Señor Moreno guiding you out of the courthouse.

“What now?” You asked as you pulled on the tie around your neck. It was a shame the only nice outfit you had was your suit to the Rave’N; it had quickly turned uncomfortable.

“Now you go home,” he said with a smile, still guiding you down the steps of the courthouse. Thanks to your parents’ aversion to Outcasts, there had been little to no publicity. “You’ll start your anger management once the new year starts.”

“And the fine?” You asked.

It had been weighing on your mind since the judge had issued it; $15,000. There was no way in hell you would ever be able to pay that off. A few dozen feet away, your parents descended the courthouse steps, eyeing you for a moment before they looked elsewhere. Your hand quickly travelled to the crystal pendent the Addamses had given you; you still kept it around your neck at all times.

“I can’t afford it.”

“It’s already taken care of.”

You stopped fidgeting with the crystal and nearly tripped over the last stair. Señor Moreno held his hand out to your arm to steady you before you could look up. Mr. and Mrs. Addams were standing near their car with Lurch still inside. Mrs. Addams had a soft smile while Mr. Addams immediately went to clap Señor Moreno on the back.

You didn’t bother trying to keep up as they started talking in Spanish. Abuelita really needed to teach you.

“How are you feeling, little bird?” Mrs. Addams asked softly as her hand reached out to brush against your cheek. You instantly leaned into the gentle touch.

Stop being vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” you said even though you both clearly knew it was a lie.

“Thank you again, Jair,” Mrs. Addams said, and you turned just enough to see Mr. Addams and Señor Moreno walking closer. She still pulled you closer until her arm was around your waist.

She was being far too soft with you, it was making you nervous. But it also left you feeling cared for, maybe even loved. Fuck, when had you truly last felt loved? Mama Weems aside simply because she still had to work all the time, of course. Shit. Now you were just getting sad.

It’s pathetic.

“Of course, Tish,” Señor Moreno said with a smile. “Let me know if anything else comes up.”

“We will,” Mr. Addams said.

Everyone bid their goodbyes to Señor Moreno and watched as he walked away, leaving you with the Addamses. It made you uncomfortable in ways you couldn’t properly express. How much of their money had you wasted on this whole situation? How much time had you stolen from them?

“Are you ready to go home, little bird?” Mr. Addams asked. He still looked to be in good spirits.

You opened your mouth to answer but instantly felt that lump in your throat again. It was not going to cause you to cry, not now. You closed your mouth and nodded once instead, and thankfully they took that as an acceptable answer. Mrs. Addams opened the car door for you to let you in and soon the drive had started.

You couldn’t remember anything that happened on the trip, or even the ride to the Addams house itself. That alone was enough to get your heart racing once again, but you chalked it down to the stress and anxiety of the past few weeks. More than a few weeks. Fuck, how long had it been since the harvest festival? How many weeks had you missed out on?

Fuck.

You had barely gotten out of the car when you felt something crash into you, knocking you back. Your feet steadied the rest of you, but the ache in your body stretched down every nerve it could find. Small, slender arms were wrapped around your neck and, at the familiar scent of her perfume, your own arms wrapped around her waist as your eyes fell shut.

“Never again, cara mia,” Wednesday mumbled into the side of your neck. “Please.”

Oh, how could you possibly say no to that? When you could hear the rare emotion in her voice and feel something wet drop onto your skin? When her nails were digging into your suit and holding you as if you would disappear in an instant? When you could feel her pulse under your fingertips and even just the feel of her body against yours made you feel home?

She’s going to become a distraction, the voice warned. But a distraction to what? And in the end, did you even truly care? Did you care when she felt like home and comfort and warmth all at once? No. No, you didn’t care. You would let her be a distraction to the whole world if that’s what it took to keep her in your arms.

You didn’t bother with an answer, just held her tighter and inhaled deeply once again. The stress of everything started to melt away, even if only for a moment, and you just held Wednesday as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did. Maybe something inside you would break, leaving not even your sanity intact if you let go.

You wouldn’t let her go again.

You would pile corpses in front of her door before the world took her from you again.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday imagine #wednesday addams imagine #everyone but her au

561 notes · View notes

pedroshotwifey · 8 months

Text

Manners

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x fem!reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, Age gap, Slight authority/seniority kink (He's her boss), Slight Sir kink, Oral sex (f and m receiving), piv sex, probably more I'm forgetting about but oh well 🤷‍♀️

Summary: You make a small slip-up and Jack offers to help brush you up on your manners.

A/N: Hello lovely readers! Please keep in mind that even though I have written multiple works at this point, this one is the first one I ever published. As I begin to post some of my more recent fics, you should be able to see a difference in quality overall. I did, however, go back and make edits to this one so that it is better than it would have been if I had posted it in its original state. I hope you enjoy it, and please keep an eye out for the more recent fics I will be posting within the next week or so!

***

The sun is bright in your eyes as you attempt to blink them open for the first time this morning. You can feel the warm rays sneaking through the curtains to crawl over your blanketed form. The birds are singing a sweet song right outside your window, their song slowly stirring you awake. You sigh in contentment at the peaceful scene you woke up to.

It’s definitely one of those mornings where it will be impossible to drag yourself away from your cozy bed. Once you are able to pry your eyes open all the way, you sit up and pull the curtain back a little to admire the landscape of the small ranch you work on.

Being able to wake up and come home to the beautiful view presented by the window beside your bed has quickly become one of your favorite things about this job. Part of your payment is living in the small one-bedroom house stationed on top of one of the few hills on the ranch.

It's not much, but you love the cozy feeling the house gives off. It's absolutely perfect for you and you have made sure to let your boss know how appreciative you are of it. Within the six months that you have lived on the property, you have only talked to the boss a handful of times, and each time he asks you if you are still comfortable living in the cottage.

Even though he told you that you can make any adjustments you want, he still likes to check that it is to your standard. You always tell him that you are perfectly content, and he always makes a point to remind you that you are welcome to move into one of the many rooms of his large ranch house if you ever change your mind.

You have learned that Mr. Daniels is very generous. He seems to genuinely care about the well-being of his employees. Despite his array of offers though, you always choose to stay in the small cottage. You know that he worries about you being secluded, but in reality, you are still in view of the main house. You trust that if anything were to happen, he or another ranch hand would be there in an instant to assist you.

It's true what you tell him; you are perfectly content with the small house, but you have to be honest with yourself. You know that you are turning him down for other reasons as well — annoying reasons that you wish would cease to exist.

About two months in, you made the realization that you are nursing a crush on your boss. By that time though, you had already settled in. You had figured—hoped—the attraction would be a phase. By now, you’ve realized it most certainly was not. In your defense, a few weeks after the realization, it seemed like the crush had passed, faded into nothing more than a tiny tug in your chest when you thought about him. That is until you had to meet up with him for a monthly check-in at least.

You had scolded yourself and tried to ignore the bubbling feeling in your stomach as he talked to you in that syrupy southern drawl you have come to crave. You had a sinking suspicion that you didn't do a very good job of concealing the way you felt. The way the cowboy had smirked at you every now and again during the, in your opinion, much-too-long interaction suggested that he knew exactly what kind of thoughts you had brewing.

If you didn’t know any better, you would dare say that the asshole might enjoy making your face flush bright as a tomato. Sure, the man may be about twenty years your senior, but you can't deny the tension that has begun to build since then.

He seems to have made a game of getting you flustered during meetings, and you have quickly accepted the challenge of keeping your cool as he does so. Unfortunately for you, he usually wins.

You groan as you remember that you need to prepare yourself for the meeting taking place today. You sit up and let your feet dangle off the side of the bed as you stretch your arms into the air, attempting to ease your sore muscles.

Letting your hands back down to rest on your lap, you glance at the clock. It reads 10:41.

Shit

Suddenly awake, you jump out of bed and scramble over to your closet, frantically laying out a work outfit. You are supposed to be meeting Mr. Daniels at 11:00. You had set an alarm to wake you up at 9:30 so you would have time to eat breakfast and tidy up around the cottage before you had to leave. Of course, today would be the day the clock wouldn’t go off.

It takes about five minutes to get to the main house from here, maybe two that if you run, but even then it would still be cutting it close. If there is anything you hate, it's making a bad impression, and being late is one of the best ways to do that.

You know that Mr. Daniels probably won't mind, but you still don't want to be an inconvenience. You are the only female worker on the ranch, and even though Jack always lets you know how much he appreciates your hard work, you still want to stay on top of your responsibilities. You know deep down that you have nothing to prove, but some of the guys can be pretty rude with their unnecessarily sexist comments.

They just love to follow you around and breathe down your fucking neck. Their favorite antic has got to be making you feel like you aren’t capable of picking up bigger loads. “Can I get that for you, Princess?” they ask with stupid smirks, already knowing your answer. You have learned that the best way to deal with that is to give them a smile and kindly assure them that you got it. It’s no fun for them when you don’t feed into it, after all.

Even so, Mr. Daniels is usually pretty quick about shutting “jokes'' about you down, but you can't help but feel like he might see some truth to them. He doesn’t of course - in fact, he constantly tells you that you are one of the best hands he has ever had working for him.

You always soak up any praise he gives you, even though you feel like a giddy schoolgirl sometimes. You swear that man’s comments will ultimately be the death of you.

You check the clock again as you finish tying your hair back and set your hat on your head.

10:54. Perfect.

After you brush your teeth, that should give you enough time to walk down to the house just in time for the meeting to start.

***

Somehow, it ended up being 10:57 by the time you were walking out the door. As you step outside, you can see Mr. Daniels standing outside his house, glancing at his wrist. You furrow your brows as you realize that the rest of the ranch hands are nowhere to be seen. There's no way the meeting is just between the two of you, right? You couldn’t have missed a detail that detrimental… right?

Shaking your head, you start to sprint toward where your boss is standing. The guys will probably be there by the time you reach the house… hopefully. You’re not sure if you can handle Jack Daniels on your own today. It takes you about two and a half minutes for you to get to him, and—much to your chagrin—there’s not another worker in sight.

You inhale deeply as you approach him - you can already feel the butterflies in your stomach with every step you take. He looks exceptionally good today, donned in his signature black stetson. Once you are close, you plaster a smile on your face and pray silently that you made it on time.

“Hello Mr. Daniels,” you say sweetly.

“Good morning sugar,” he says before flashing you a toothy grin. You try to ignore the names he has for you most of the time, though you secretly love the almost nonchalant affection behind them.

You feel your face flush and try to turn your head towards the ground in an attempt to hide it, but you know he saw when you notice his eyes narrow slightly out of the corner of your own. The look sends heat straight into your lower abdomen and you swallow as you look up to meet his gaze again.

“Did nobody else show up?” you ask him, trying to keep your composure.

He chuckles quietly at your question and you suddenly wish your ears would stop working. “No darlin’, I figured we could have a one-on-one meeting this time around—if that's ok with you of course?”

“Oh, um, yea of course, that's just fine Mr. Daniels.” Liar, your brain spits at you.

***

Fortunately for your dignity, the meeting was pretty normal for the most part. Mr. Daniels asked you if you were still comfortable in your cottage, to which you—as always—replied that you love having your own place.

He told you of the tasks he wants you to perform throughout the next couple of weeks and of your expected schedule. He also pointedly reminded you to call him Jack, which you ignored and continued to refer to him in a formal fashion. You didn't need any more personal ties to this man.

After everything that needed to be said was conversed, you both said goodbye and began to part ways.

You let out a deep breath, silently congratulating yourself for not slipping up as you turn your back to your boss. Maybe everything will be fine.

“Oh, and honeybee?” You hear Mr. Daniels' question come from behind you and tense back up immediately. There was something about the way he said it, almost like it was coming through a smirk, that made your eyes grow wide.

You spin back around to find the cowboy standing in place with his back to you.

“Yes, Mr. Daniels?” Your voice comes out squeakier than you expect and you grimace at the sound.

“You were a minute late today, hon.”

Shit. You let your eyes flutter shut and attempt to gulp down your anxiety as he continues. Of course the bastard would point something like that out, he’s well aware of how big you are on that kind of thing.

“Now don’t worry, you ain’t in trouble, darlin’,” he says much too confidently for your liking, “but just so we can assure it won’t happen again, maybe you should swing by the house tonight so we can brush you up on your manners.”

Unable to speak, you stare at your boss’s now descending form with an open jaw. Did you hear that right?

The asshole must know that you are still rooted to the spot he left you in because he cranes his neck to say “You’re free to go for now doll, i’ll see ya at 8:00,” he says before sending you a wink and turning back around.

You quickly close your jaw and turn on your heel towards the barn. Your heart is racing much too quickly in your chest as you approach your first task of the day.

***

Getting through the day was absolutely agonizing. You love your job and find most of the tasks you have to do decently easy, but the conversation from this morning has been running through your mind non-stop.

Brush up on your manners...

You wanted to hate him for his blunt suggestion, but you realized about halfway through the day what he actually meant by it. At least, what you hope he actually meant by it. You have been pushing your excitement down all day and it has evidently been landing between your legs.

At this point, as you trek back to your house to freshen up, you can feel your core throb with every agonizing step. This man has had you on edge all day and you are frustrated to no end.

Brush up on your manners...

You'll show him. You'll show him just how sweet you can be… Or maybe you won't…

The thought of being defiant sends a wave of excitement over your entire body. What would he do then? Would he decide to punish you for your bad behavior?

You'll have to decide how you will act on the way to his house. You put on a wicked grin as you begin to rustle through your closet for some presentable clothes. What Jack didn’t realize is that he accidentally put the ball right into your court.

You almost can't believe this is actually happening. As you sit down to put some mascara and lipstick on, you pinch yourself to make sure this isn't all a dream.

As you slip on your flowy sundress and boots, you are sure you will open your eyes any minute now. As you lock the door to your cottage, you expect to be waking up in your bed.

***

It really sinks in that what you are doing is real as you raise your fist to knock gently on your boss’s front door. Your nerves feel like they are on fire and you almost decide to turn around and forget all about it. Before you have the chance to change your mind, however, the door in front of you is being swung open to reveal the devilishly sexy grin hidden behind it.

“Hello again, sugar,” he says after you stand there for a second, “I was hoping you would take me up on my offer.”

You try to speak but find your voice caught in your throat, so you just nod and try to send him what you hope is a feasible smile. Without another word, he smiles back and moves to the side to gesture you into the house.

Once inside, you decide to test your voice again. “Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Daniels,” you say as he shuts the door behind you, formal as ever.

“Well of course honey,” he says in a tone much too cocky for your liking, “and look at you, already puttin’ those manners to use.”

You flush a dark shade of crimson when you find yourself at a lack of words once again. Fortunately, Jack takes that as his cue again and moves in closer, backing you into the wall behind you. You don't stop him as he steps into your personal bubble and reaches a hand toward your face.

He smirks as he feels you shudder when his large hand finds your cheek. You bite your lip to stop the sound that threatens to escape. His palm feels so warm against you, and you feel so tiny in comparison as you look up into his dark eyes.

You see the mischievous twinkle in his eye as he grasps your chin more firmly to bring your face up to his just slightly. You sneak a quick glance at his plush lips that are now mere inches from your own. It would be so easy to just lean in a bit and-

“Now, sugar,” Mr. Daniels says, interrupting your thoughts, “for the purposes of tonight, you can call me sir. Understand?”

Your eyes widen slightly at his command and you try to nod your head as much as you can with his hand still gripping your chin. Yup, you were definitely right in your earlier assumption. Your knees feel weak, threatening to give out. The sensation distracts you for a moment and when you come back into focus you find Jack looking at you expectantly.

“Let's try that again, doll,” he says as he digs his fingers into your chin ever so slightly. You swallow as you watch him tilt his chin up to look down at you. His mouth drops open into a thin smirk as he raises his eyebrows. You feel your legs buckle underneath you again and you would probably fall if not for his hand propping you up.

“Understand?” he repeats, clearly wanting a verbal response. Likely wanting your consent so he can be sure you’re of with the way things are going. You would be damned if you weren’t.

“I-” you stop when he gives your chin a warning squeeze, it isn’t hard, but it’s enough to give you the hint

“Yes sir,” you manage to get the words out. They were high-pitched and shaky, but you were surprised you were able to speak at all.

Your eyes close slowly as he lowers his head back down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, rewarding you for catching on.

“Good girl,” you shudder and bite back a moan at his gentle praise.

Your eyes land on his lips as you open them again. You stare for a little longer than you probably should before you meet his gaze again. You can't help it, they just look so warm and inviting. You picture them enveloping your own.

When he sees you look away from his lips, he loosens his grip once more and leans in close enough to nudge his face next to yours, almost as if he were going to nibble your ear.

“Would if be okay if I kissed you, baby?” he asks, voice barely a whisper. A shiver racks through your spine at his words combined with the feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You start to nod before you remember what he wants you to do. You want to scold yourself for giving in so easily, but you block that thought out as you feel him start to pull back. Your heart feels like it's going to beat out of your chest as you stare into his deep chocolate eyes. You hate him for making you say it, but you do it anyway.

“Yes sir,” your voice is just as quiet as his, if not more.

He closes the distance before you even realize you spoke the desperate words out loud. You close your eyes and slot your lips against his. It feels like absolute euphoria as you melt into the heated kiss. It's sloppy and uncoordinated, but automatically you decide it is the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You moan as his tongue slips past your lips, giving you a taste of what you can only describe as Jack. His lips are the perfect combination of soft and chapped and you can't help but give in completely to him. If given the option, you would stand here and kiss this man until the day you die.

You sigh as you feel his hand release your jaw and make its way down your body to rest on your hip. Shortly after, you feel his fingers run through your hair to grasp the base of your skull, pulling you deeper into the passionate kiss. Your own hands begin to cling onto his clothes, wanting to be as close as possible to him.

Suddenly, he pulls away, his palms stationed firmly on your hips and on teh back of your neck. You look into his eyes and you can see the hunger lingering in his stare. His pupils are blown with desire and you can feel the way they must mirror your own.

“Let me taste you?” He asks you, desperation clear in his voice as he nearly begs.

You nod feverishly in your lust-drunken state, not entirely sure what he just asked. All you know is that with the admiration this man is looking at you with, you would be a fool to deny him anything he asked for.

You can see the way he shifts, clearly wanting to get to whatever you had just consented to. He stops though, smirking as he seemingly remembers something.

“Try again sugar,” he tells you. You immediately know what he wants.

“Y-yes sir,” you say quickly, not sure how the words came out that fast. As soon as you say it, Jack begins to move again. You sober quickly as you watch the fierce man in front of you sink to his knees, letting his large hands run down your sides as he does so. Once settled, he looks up into your wide eyes and wets his lips. His eyes look heavenly as he beams at you with adoration.

You snap back to reality and feel the blood rush up to your cheeks as you finally realize what he had asked you. Still drunk on his kiss, you had answered him before you gave yourself a chance to think about it.

“Want to see if you taste as sweet as I've imagined, darlin’.”

Before you get the chance to respond, he leans forward to press a kiss over your clothed mound. He darts his tongue out to flick your clit, somehow knowing exactly where it is.

You involuntarily buck your hips to his face as your hands fly to rest on his broad shoulders. It's a new sensation—a welcome one for sure—but new nonetheless. You aren’t inexperienced, but you haven’t had many lovers, and none of them had ever been generous enough to go down on you.

“Oh f-fuck!” The expletive flies from your mouth as he repeats the action. He pulls back and you watch him grin against your thigh before pressing a sof kiss to the fabric covering it.

You feel your dress being bunched up in one of his fists, but he doesn't raise it yet. Figuring he probably wants your permission, you look down at him and give him a shaky nod.

When he sees the confirmation, he sends you another smirk that shoots straight down to your cunt. You bite your lip as you feel your dress rise up past your panties.

It's been a while since you had any sexual encounter, and you feel exposed until you see the pure lust in Jack's eyes; how could you ever feel uncomfortable under a gaze like that?

“Fuck darlin,” he says, eyeing your lacy black panties. “You put these on just for me?”

“Y-yes sir,” you say. He seems satisfied with your response as he extends the hand that's not holding your dress up to run a finger through the wet patch between your legs.

“Oh sugar, you been thinkin’ ‘bout me?” He asks you when he feels the wetness beginning to pool through the lace fabric.

“Yes sir,” you tell him truthfully. “All day.” You figure you have no shame left, might as well just tell it as it is. Though you are trying to sound confident, your voice sounds soft even in your ears.

You can tell by the way Jack's eyes glow when you admit your thoughts that he finds your nervousness arousing.

“Alright sugar, I'll tell you what,” he says as his thumb absently traces circles on your thigh. “I think you have been such a good girl for me so far…” To your embarrassment, you whimper at his praise.

“I want you to use my real name when I have you screaming for me.”

When you don't say anything, he looks up to meet your flushed face. Your mouth is dropped open slightly at his casual suggestion and your face feels like it's on fire.

He gives you no more warning as he smirks and hooks your panties to the side before shoving a finger into your dripping hole in one swift motion. You squeeze your eyes shut and relish in the feeling of having something filling you up. You immediately want more, and you tell him as much.

He chuckles darkly at your desperation as he begins to pump his finger in and out at a painfully slow pace.

“Remember your manners, doll,” he reminds you. You groan in frustration but comply with his request.

“Shit, please Jack, please give me more.” Your words sound rushed as they spill from your kiss-swollen lips. yup, all dignity out the window.

He approves your request by dipping another finger into your wet heat, but he does nothing about the speed in which he moves his hand. Despite the pace, you can feel the tension in your abdomen begin to build up embarrassingly quickly as he rubs against that spongy place you can never reach.

One of your hands leaves his shoulder to tangle in his hair. You whimper at the friction you have been craving all day and try to grind down on his digits in an attempt to reach that sweet spot deep inside you again.

You want to scream when he quickly extracts his fingers.

“Now darlin’, you gotta be patient if you want me to reward you.” He sends you a flashy smirk as he teases your entrance with the pad of his middle finger, applying just enough pressure to make it seem like he’s going to breach you again, but he never does. You shiver at the feeling. Bastard.

“Yes sir, I'll be good,” you promise him eagerly.

“Know you will be, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he mutters mostly to himself as his fingers split you open once again. He sets a faster pace this time, and you can feel the coil in your belly getting ready to snap. You feel his mouth envelope your throbbing clit through your panties and you let out a whiny moan.

“I- fuck Jack, im close,” you breathe out in pure ecstasy. At your unworded request, he adds a third digit and begins to pump his fingers at a near-brutal pace. You can feel a sheen of sweat beginning to cover your body. Just a few strokes away now…

He takes his mouth away but continues his attack with his fingers. He tilts his head up to watch your teary-eyed expression, your mouth slightly agape. He chuckles quietly at how fast he was able to find the spots that make you squirm for him.

“Now doll, here's where we work on that timing,” he starts. You barely register what he says through your haze, but you get the gist of it and furrow your brows. When he sees your confusion, he fills you in.

“You want to come, honey?” he asks you nonchalantly.

“Oh, yes sir,” you squeak as you feel a tear run down your cheek; you’re so close, you don’t want him to deny you again. “Yes, yes, please let me come.” your eyes flutter closed from the pure pleasure he is bringing you with just his hand.

“Okay, sweetheart, that's what I thought.” you’re not sure if you like the playfulness in his tone.

“I'm going to do a countdown for you,” he starts. “When I reach ‘one’, you can come.” Your eyes fly open faster than they had closed.

“Jack,” you try not to sound whiny as you protest. “Jack, I-I don't know if I can—I don't know if I can do that!” The grin that spreads onto his face is absolutely wicked—he has you right where he wants you.

“Well hon, you're just gonna have to, ain’t ya?” he tells you. “I'll have no choice but to punish you if you come too soon or too late.” Your eyes grow wide but you can't deny the curiosity that breaches your mind at what his idea of “punishment” might be.

“I believe you can do it darlin’,” he encourages you before you have the chance to protest. You know he would stop if you asked him, but that would be the only way out—and he would be stopping completely. You are so close, like Jack said—you can do this.

You swallow and nod down at him, signaling your agreement. By now, he has slowed down his pace drastically, and you would do anything to have his fingers abusing your cunt again.

“Okay, let's start then,” he says through his toothy grin. “I'm gonna to go from five.” Seeing you nod again, he brings his mouth back to work at your still-covered clit.

“Five.” You keen sharply as he mouths at your clit, prodding the bundle of nerves with his skilled tongue.

“Four.” you aren't sure if you are going to have enough control to make it to one. It feels almost painful knowing that you have to wait for permission.

“Three.” “There you go hon, so close now.”

“Two.” your breathing picks up and you can't help but let the high pitched moans barrel out as you focus on holding your release. You want to beg for his permission, but you know your best bet is to wait it out.

“One.”

Jack sucks hard on your clit as you scream his name. Your vision goes white and you suddenly feel like you’re floating. The intense orgasm seems to last forever, you’ve never felt anything so blissful in your life.

“There you go sugar,” you hear Jack's giddy voice coming from a faraway place. “Scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Other than the shudders that wrack your body, you are barely aware of anything else around you. It feels like you are suspended in another dimension. You can feel your juices running down your thighs and hear Jack happily slurping them up, muttering gentle praise into your sex.

“Did so good for me honey bee,” he tells you, “Right on time’.”

It seems like an hour has passed by the time you are finally able to open your eyes and look down at the man on his knees before you. It takes you a second to notice, but once your vision comes back all the way, you can see droplets of wetness make their way down Jack's face to drip off of his nose and chin.

Holy Shit…

Your eyes widen in time with your jaw as you begin to piece together what happened. You keep your gaze on Jack while you figure it out. He looks almost as blissed out as you do with his hooded eyes and his mustache covered in your slick.

“Oh my god Jack,” you say, feeling your face turn red. “I didn't…”

The smirk on his face widens and he opens his mouth to shove his fingers inside. He closes his mouth as he suckles on them and then pulls the digits out with a wet pop.

“Oh yes you did honey,” he says after he opens his eyes to meet yours. “And you taste just as divine as you looked while you squirted all over my hand.”

“Now let Jack finish cleanin’ you up sugar.” With that, he dips his head back down to lap at your sensitive folds. You buck your hips when you feel him graze your over-sensitive clit,

“Let's get these the rest of the way off, sweet thing,” he chuckles darkly as he slides his finger back and forth across the band of your ruined panties.

Not knowing what to say, you nod and step back for him. You start to bend down to take your shoes off before you slide your panties down, but you’re stopped as you feel him lightly tap the outside of your thigh.

Meeting your curious expression, he shakes his head slightly and shifts to one knee before tapping the one he had popped up, gesturing for you to place your foot there.

You want to swoon over him for how much of a gentleman he can be even though he was just knuckle-deep in your cunt. You shoot him a bashful smile as you comply with his silent request and gently place your foot on his raised leg.

He returns the smile before sliding your shoe off and caresses your calf while he sets it off to the side. He motions for you to switch legs and you watch as he repeats the motion with that one as well.

Once you have both feet planted back on the ground, Jack reaches up to hook his fingers into the sides of your waistband. He slowly slides the now soaked garment down your bare legs, being careful not to leave any residue on your skin.

Once they are discarded next to your shoes, he stands back up to his full height. He gently slides both of his hands onto your face and brings you in to lock you in a bruising kiss.

“What do you say, doll?” He asks you once he pulls back. You smile at him, proud of yourself for knowing exactly what he wants.

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him bashfully. He beams at your quick learning and moves one of his hands to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “My pleasure, honey.”

It's your turn to smirk up at him as you begin to descend onto your knees. He looks down at you with a look somewhere between amusement and confusion as you settle into a comfortable position.

“Aw sugar,” he tells you, running his fingers through your hair. “You don't have to do that.”

You put up at him in a mocking manner and stop your hands halfway to his belt buckle. “Please sir, I want to,” you tell him. You watch as his brows narrow slightly and his eyes grow darker.

“What exactly do you want, honey bee?” he asks you, though the bastard knows exactly what you mean. You decide to play along with his game anyway.

“I want to make you feel good, sir,” you say, looking up at him through your thick eyelashes. “Will you let me?”

He continues smoothing your hair down as he slowly nods at you, giving you permission. You hear his breath catch in his throat as your hands find his buckle.

You bite your lip as you anxiously fumble with the heavy thing. Once unclasped, you unzip his pants and tug them down just enough to see the large bulge in his boxers. He smirks as he notices your eyes widen at the size of it.

“You can do it, honey,” he rests his free hand back on your cheek as he assures you. You lean into his touch and gently take his thumb into your mouth, suckling lightly. His skin tastes heavenly and you hum in anticipation of how good his cock must be.

Maintaining eye contact, you reach out and give him a small squeeze through his boxers. He groans at the touch and you smirk as you reach into his waistband and tug his hardened dick out.

You give him a couple of jerks and watch the way his face twists with pleasure before you look down. He chuckles when he hears you gasp as your gaze trails downwards.

Holy shit.

He's fucking huge. Sure he's got length, but his girth is what has your eyes growing wide. You swallow as you look back into his eyes.

“Like what you see?” He asks, amusement clear in his voice. You roll your eyes as you give him another short tug. You let your thumb run over his tip, spreading precum over the head.

You smirk as he shudders above you. You lean forward to dart your tongue out over his slit, tasting the saltiness of it. He lets out a strained groan at the contact. “Like what you feel?” You ask him innocently. You look up to meet his now blazing stare.

“Now doll,” he pauses as he rubs your cheek. “That's one dangerous game you just started,” he says slowly. You swallow at his menacing tone.

“And I hope you are prepared to play it.”

With that, he grasps your chin, making your mouth fall open as he brings your face toward his heavy cock. He watches your expression to make sure you don't want to stop before he guides his stiff length into your mouth.

He wastes no time as he shoves himself all the way down your throat, not giving you the chance to take him slowly. Your nose nuzzles into the dark curls at the base of his cock as you try not to choke.

He doesn't move yet, allowing you to get used to the feeling. You try not to gag as you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. You close them, letting the liquid stream down your cheeks as you swallow, trying to adjust yourself.

“Ah fu-“ Jack stutters as he feels your throat convulse around his length. “There you go s-sugar, just like that.”

You bathe in the way the blissed-out way Jack's eyelids start to droop and his mouth falls open the tiniest bit as you start to move your head back and forth. A strangled groan spills from his lips when you move back and circle your tongue around his tip before sliding back down to the base.

You feel him set his hand on your head, not pushing or pulling you in any way, just resting it there. There's a glint in your eyes as you look up at him and put your hand on top of his, pushing lightly.

Jack's eyes widen as he realizes what you are insinuating, but you can see the desire behind his expression.

“Shit- I-“ he fumbles over his words, "you sure sweetheart? I ain’t gonna be gentle.” You nod up at him as much as you can and push his hand in encouragement again.

“Alright darlin’,” he stares down at you with adoration, “tap my thigh if you need me to slow down.”

You can tell he has been trying to hold himself back, and you feel your wetness start to drip down your thighs as his face relaxes. He takes over your movements as he presses on the back of your head experimentally.

You give him complete control and submit to his request, putting your tongue out flat as he pushes you down his thick length. You moan out in pleasure at the thought of him having complete control and his cock twitches at the sound.

His actions start slow, but gradually build up as he begins to chase his high. He whispers praise to you in between moans as he fucks your mouth.

As you watch him, you think that the expression he makes when he is consumed with pleasure might be the best thing you have ever seen—better than the view from your cottage window. You hum around him, sending vibrations through his whole body.

“Oh, fuck!” You can feel yourself growing wetter the more Jack struggles to keep his composure. “S-Shit sugar, I'm gonna need t’ stop if you want me to be able to take care of you right.”

You whimper at the thought of his cock slamming in and out of your pussy and you feel more slick dripping down your legs. You squeeze your thighs shut, trying to get some friction to relieve the ache on your throbbing clit.

Knowing he's close, Jack pulls you off of him with a growl. He grins as he hears you whine at the loss.

“Now darlin’,” he starts. “There will be plenty of chances to do that again, for now though,” you watch as his eyes somehow grow darker still. “I want to feel that tight cunt around my cock.”

You can't stop the moan that escapes from your lips upon hearing his dirty words. You must be dripping onto the floor at this point, but you don't care. All you care about right now is Jack staying true to his word.

Hearing your desperate moan ignites something feral in him, and before you even realize what he was doing, you are slung over his shoulder, ass in the air, as he strides into his bedroom.

He flings you on the bed as soon as he enters the threshold and immediately goes to work pulling off his boots. You sit there stunned as he starts fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his perfectly tanned skin.

He glances up at you through his haze to see your shocked expression, and you watch as a lopsided smirk overtakes his features.

“You gonna strip or what, honey?” He asks you in a teasing tone as he continues undressing.

You roll your eyes and grin as you feel your blood rushing to your cheeks. As he looks back down to concentrate on the last few buttons on his shirt and you take that as a cue to tug your dress off.

Left in only your bra, you take that off too as Jack is tugging off his pants. Donned in only his boxers, he looks back at you and you watch his eyes rake over your naked form.

His smile falters and you think for a second that you did something wrong.

“You are so damn beautiful darlin’,” he says, easing your worried thoughts. You smile

sheepishly as he starts to walk towards the bed.

He leans over the side, wedging one of his knees between your own as he leaves a trail of delicate kisses up the column of your throat. You tilt your head up to allow his access and shiver as he brushes along your pulse point.

“Jack,” you say in a whiny tone, not really sure what you're asking him for. He seems to know better than you do though, because he lifts his lips up to yours as he slides a hand down between your bodies.

You moan into his mouth as he uses two fingers to lightly circle your clit. The kiss turns sloppy and you bring your arms up to circle around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He moves the fingers from your clit to tease at your sopping cunt. He slides them in one at a time and you keen underneath him, making his cock twitch in his boxers. His erection is almost painful now, but he wants to get you ready for him before he gives in to his urges.

You feel yourself climbing closer to the edge as Jack adds a third finger and begins to work at your swollen bud with his thumb. He can feel you writhing below him and he smiles into your mouth, proud of the way your body reacts to his touch.

“Jack, im gonna-“ You don’t get to finish the warning as you feel him flick his thumb over your clit, pushing you over the edge. Your whole body shakes with pleasure as you mewl into Jack's lips.

Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself clench around Jack's fingers, causing a guttural groan to escape from him. He pumps his fingers in and out, easing you through your high.

As you still, you lay your head down fully on the mattress and look into Jack's eyes. You feel like a schoolgirl as you smile lopsidedly at him, giving you an eager grin in return.

“You ready, darlin’?” he asks. You take a deep breath and nod at him. He leans down to plant small kisses on your forehead and on the tip of your nose as he pushes himself off of the bed to shed his boxers.

You scootch back a little, giving him more room as he climbs back up. Your stomach flips as you look into his eyes, feeling one of his hands come up to rest next to your head.

He dips down for another kiss and you feel the head of his cock find its way to your entrance. You suck in a breath as he begins to slowly push himself into your dripping heat.

“Oh- fuck baby girl,” he groans as he pushes deeper. You feel the hand near your head clench the sheets beside you as he sheaths himself to the hilt. His size takes your breath away and you are grateful when he pauses to let you adjust.

The stretch pinches, making you scrunch your eyes shut. When you open them again, you find Jack looking at you, concern written on his face.

He furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head, silently asking if you are okay to continue. You know that he would stop in a heartbeat if you wanted to, and the thought immediately makes you more comfortable.

It warms your heart to think about how much of a gentleman Jack really is underneath that tough exterior, and how lucky you are to be able to experience this side of him.

“Start moving,” you tell him after the pain begins to dull. You watch his features relax as he pulls back out halfway before gliding back in. You appreciate how gentle he's being, at least until you can get used to the feeling of being stuffed so full.

“Your wish is my command, sweet pea,” he tells you, sending you a wink. The pain from earlier quickly turns to pleasure as Jack continues his gentle movements. You moan loudly as he hits something devastating inside you, spurring him on.

“Ah- fuck, Jack!” You scream his name as he begins to speed his movements up. You can feel every vein and ridge sliding on the walls of your soaked cunt. Already, tension begins building in your belly as he starts to ruthlessly pump his cock in and out of you.

The room is filled with both of your moans combined with the lewd squelching noises coming from where your bodies connect. It sounds like pure ecstasy. You can hear Jack's breath growing heavier with each thrust.

You decide as he lets out a whine that there is nothing sweeter than the sounds Jack Daniels makes when he's buried deep inside of you. His noises fuel you and you can hear your moans growing breathier as he pulls you closer to the edge.

You watch a bead of sweat slip down the side of Jack's forehead as he draws back until only the head of his cock is breaking you open. Before you get the chance to figure out what he's doing, he slams himself back into you.

You try to scream but find that all the breath had been knocked out of you with the force of his thrust. Tears of pleasure brim your eyes as he repeats his action, faster this time.

Your arms slip under his own and you claw at his back as you get closer to release. You let out a moan as Jack grabs your thigh and throws one of your legs over his waist, allowing him to hit depths you didn't even think possible.

“Such a -fuck- such a sweet damn pussy d-darlin’,” Jack praises. You almost come right then and there.

“S-so good, Jack,” you say through a whimper as he continues his brutal pace. “Fuck!” You scream when he slams into a sweet spot.

“M’ gon- gonna come, Jack,'' you tell him. He smirks and snakes a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. There's no way you're going to last between the new position and the assult on your sensitive bud.

“Go ahead darlin’,” He tells you as he lowers his head to slot his lips between your own, locking you into a messy kiss. “Let go for me.”

That's all it takes for you to fall apart underneath him. Your eyes roll back and you feel your legs turn to jello as you come on Jack's cock. He continues to whisper sweet praise into your ear as he works you through your climax.

You feel his movements grow sloppy and uncoordinated as you come down from your high.

“S-Shit, honey,” Jack gasps, “not gonna last.”

He gives about another half dozen thrusts before he's asking you “Where?”.

You don't answer him, and instead lift your other leg to wrap around his waist, bringing him into you. You whimper at the thought of filling you up and it pushes him over the edge. He stills and you feel the gush of warm seed spread throughout your cunt.

The moan he lets out is absolutely feral as he releases inside of you, making your toes curl. You squeeze around him, milking rope after rope of cum from his cock. You stare into each other’s eyes as you bring your arms up around his neck to pull him down to you again.

You bring your lips against his, closing your eyes as you both share the gentlest and most intimate kiss of the night. He lowers his body to lay on top of yours, being careful not to put all of his weight on you as he pulls away from the kiss to position his head next to your ear.

“Fuckin’ perfect darlin’,” he says gently. “Thank you.”

You smile at the ceiling as you wrap your arms tight around him, holding him close. You both lay there for a few minutes as your bodies begin to relax, you slotting your fingers through his hair, and him whispering sweet praises into your ear.

He leans up to brush his lips against yours one more time before grunting and pulling out of you. You grimace first at the loss and then at the feeling of your combined release leaking out of your worn cunt. Your attention is dragged away from the feeling when you hear Jack flick the bathroom light on.

He is only gone for a second before he returns with a warm cloth, using it to swipe along your folds, cleaning you up. You wince as the fabric runs along your sensitive clit. “Sorry, darlin’,” he chuckles a quiet apology. You squint at him but when you make eye contact you can't help but giggle too.

Smiling, Jack gets back up to dispose of the cloth before he comes back to bed and lays down beside you, pulling you into him so you can set one of your legs over his and place your head on his chest. You hum in delight as he starts to pepper feather light kisses into your hair.

“Not so bad for an old man,” you tease him. You feel him smile against your hair as he breathes in your sweet scent.

“Hey now,” he says in the same teasing tone, “it's starting to sound like you didn't learn anything from your lesson.”

You laugh as you roll yourself over to straddle his hips.

“Well,” you say as you look into his hooded eyes, “I've always said I learn my lessons better the second time around.” He smirks at you and grabs your hips, bearing you down to his already half-hard cock and you whimper quietly.

“That can be arranged, sugar,” he tells you as he scoots back against the headboard. “This time we’ll see how well you can follow instructions.”

#fan fiction #pedro pascal #ao3 #agent whiskey #smut #pedro pascal smut

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aplaceforyourhearttorest · 2 months

Text

Counterproductive Tendencies ✩ James Hetfield

⭒ introductory, part one, part three, part four ⭒ (wordcount: 8.4k)

Part two of multiple: Underwire and Avidity (18+)

Mentions/Warnings: mentions of being sick due to a hangover, mentions of alcoholism, semi-public sex, dry humping

Your eyelashes tickle the precipice of your undereye, as the sensation of a delicate caress slowly begins to awaken you from your deep sleep, the coolness of silvered rings dragging themselves alongside your jawline causes a chill to configure and travel its way down to the base of your spine. You squint and shove your face toward and into the touch as a large beam of afternoon sunlight welcomes you within your first wide and fully opened blink, a blush reddening your cheeks as you raise your narrowed line of sight and unintentionally make eye contact with James. Bright blue irises ardently peer down at you as you immediately attempt to blink the blurriness away and focus on the man kneeling beside you, the temporary dark spots in your vision from the intrusion of bright light making it harder for you to do so.

The knuckles that were caressing you earlier, carefully turn themselves around while still maintaining the weight of the side of your head and slide down to cup your chin instead. Your lips tiredly upturn as the events of earlier that morning slowly cascade themselves back into your mind and memory, and a matching one slowly enraptures James' face as he takes in your elated and content expression. A thumb lightly taps itself on the ridge of your chin and you obediently bring your head forward, meeting him halfway as he guides you into a lazy, yet heartfelt kiss. Morning stubble grinds itself against the softness of your skin, and you raise a hand and encase it around the nape of his neck to usher him in even closer.

A sigh of relief is breathed out into the shared space between you two, and you let out a mewl as his now familiarized taste finds its way back to the tip of your tongue. James' hand firms itself around your chin and holds you in place as he gently coerces your mouth open with the beginning of his appendage, exhaling out a groan as he makes his way inside of your welcoming heat.

Your fingertips tangle themselves in the short hairs near the back of his skull, and the reverberation of his moan as you teasingly tug makes you giggle as it tickles your cupid's bow. James grins against you and pulls back for an unsteady intake of air, his free hand coming up to encircle itself around your left hipbone. "Good morning." He greets you huskily and rasped, his pupils dilated, and his lips swollen and damp with shared spit. You lick your own and chase after his taste, your hand sliding down his back as he raises himself up from his earlier position to sit on the edge of the side of the bed.

"Morning," you nearly titter, feeling light and refreshed as James' thumb unhurriedly massages figure 8's into your clothed side. The fabric of his shirt raises and lowers on your exposed thigh as he continues his ministrations, and his eyes can't help but to follow the movement with unhidden interest. Before you could tease him for his seemingly one-track mind, a miserable sounding groan makes itself inside the room through the still partially open bedroom door, and you worriedly push yourself up into a sitting position. "What the hell was that?" You ask, your heart tightly clenching with anxiety at the off-putting sound.

James goes to shrug it off, before frowning as the sound continues and becomes even louder. You quickly kick your feet out of the top sheet and comforter and slide down to the foot of the bed, gently waving off his questions as you instinctively follow the sound of discomfort. You mentally thank yourself for keeping on the non-slip socks as you hastily make your way down the hallway and past James' bedroom, before stopping in front of a wide open, bathroom entrance.

You immediately let out a coo as Kirk comes into view, the elastic you had gifted him earlier this morning becoming fully useful as he rests his upper half against the cold looking toilet seat. The curly haired brunette looks over at you with tear filled eyes, and you can't help but make your way inside of the room and sit down next to him. Your hand closest to him reaches up to push the stray hairs away from his sweat clad forehead, before coming back down to lightly at rub his upper back.

"Too much beer pong?" You quietly inquire, being mindful of your tone and volume after he lets out a wince as the toilet seat smacks down audibly after sticking to his forearm. Kirk lets out a weak grunt and slowly nods, before leaning his head back and sucking in a deep breath of stale air. "Never drinking from a fucking goblet again, can't keep anything down." You eye the half empty glass of cold water haphazardly resting on the edge of the sink and bite at your bottom lip, before standing up and making your way over to the mirrored cabinet.

You gently reassure him you aren't going anywhere after he whines once you move away, your hands instantly reaching forward for the isopropyl alcohol and cotton pads as soon as they come into view. Kirk squeezes his eyes shut after he curiously attempts to look up at you, cursing out loud as the artificial bright light causes a sharp pain to twinge behind both of his twitching eyelids. You quickly lower yourself back down beside him and open up the bottle, before ripping open the cotton pad container and saturating one of them with the clear and potent liquid.

"Do me a favor and sniff this," You instruct, holding back a grin as Kirk makes a stinging expression once you bring it an inch away from his face. "I know it burns a bit, but it'll distract you from the smell of sick and help suppress your nausea." You send him an encouraging smile as he looks at you in disbelief, before letting out a sigh of defeat and grasping onto it with a shaky hand to bring it closer to his nose.

James quietly clears his throat near the doorway, yet you two still jump at the sound. You tightly secure the cap on the bottle and make your way over to him once you're sure Kirk won't get sick again, the gentle look you're met with enough to make you pause in place. James holds out a hand to you and you automatically reach forward to grasp onto him and entangle your fingers with his, the calloused skin of his palm a comforting contrast to your own. You smile to yourself as you're tugged forward and nearly make contact with his firm chest.

"You didn't have to do all that, I'm sure he would have been just fine. Not his first or last hangover." You lightly shrug at his words, the tightness in your chest loosening as you glance over at Kirk and see color coming back to his face. James uses his free hand to gently guide you out into the hallway once the toilet flushes and his bandmate is able to stably stand up on his own.

"He made me feel welcome in here earlier this morning after my dormmates basically kicked me out and made me fend for myself, the least I could do is make sure he's alright and feeling a little less sick." You murmur, nodding to Kirk as he wearily makes his way out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom. James grins down at you, before shaking his head to himself, his thumb tabbing out to lightly rub against yours.

"How about you go and put some pants on, and then meet me downstairs? Pretty sure the rest of the guys are in the kitchen, trying to find something edible enough to make a late breakfast with," James humors, his own smile widening as he takes in the anew light in your eyes from his joke. You quickly agree, using his hand as leverage as he lowers himself to place a kiss on your forehead, the heels of your feet lifting off the ground for easier access. "I'll see you downstairs, baby." You repeat the same sentiment and watch as he makes his way down the large staircase, the small smile on your lips beginning to start to feel permanent as you do so.

"Looks like someone's making themselves at home," a voice muses out from the other side of the hall, causing you to twist your head to the side and grin once you realize it's Jason. "Heard you beat James at beer pong, after the rest of us headed to bed. Pretty badass."

"Surprised he even admitted to it," you express, nodding your head down to his full hands once you notice the guitar cases and bag. "Are you heading out for your gig?" A surprised and grateful look etches itself on his face as he walks his way over to you.

"Didn't know you or anyone else heard me say that over the screams and bottles of Bacardi." You catch on to his self-deprecating tone and decide to reassure him. "I don't know any of you guys all that much, but you seem to fit in well with them and they liked you a whole lot earlier, especially during the game," you pause as a multitude of expressions paint themselves on his face, the longest one sticking around being uncertainty. "You're their newest member, right? Just joined a few months ago?"

You feel pride as he reignites and smiles back at you, his nod turning jubilant after your acknowledgment. "Then that means something, means they want you around. If they could invite me in earlier without even knowing me, and treat me as well as they did, you included, then why do you think they wouldn't do the same to you? You're a whole hell of a lot more useful around here than I am."

Jason raises an eyebrow at your own self-deprecation, and you both share a laugh, before quieting down as a loud car horn blares itself outside. "That's me," he announces, his facial expression turning excited at the prospect of playing music and being on stage again. Jason pauses at the top of the stairway, turning around mid-step to send you a grateful look. "Thanks for the reassurance and your kind words. I think you're pretty useful around here, coming from the way you had us all laughing earlier and just by the way our frontman looks at you. I don't think I've ever seen him that happy and present before. And for what it's worth, coming from me, welcome to the family." Before you could fully register his words, he was already gone and halfway down the staircase. Echoed goodbyes and joyful expletives are exchanged downstairs, before the front door is being slammed shut and tires are skidding and screeching away outside.

As you make your way back to the guest room and toss back on the same sweatpants from earlier and re-tuck James' shirt back inside, Jason's words replay in your head, in a non-skipping and pleasant repetition.

Welcome to the family.

⭒

Hushed whispers resonate in the large living room near the staircase you descend upon as you make your way downstairs, the chill from earlier this morning now long gone and the floor much warmer. You skid to a halt as you hear your name in the half-murmured conversation and contemplate on going back upstairs to give them privacy, before your curiosity gets the best of you. You make sure to stay as quiet as you possibly can as you get yourself closer to them and in earshot, the cushioned padding on the bottom of the socks helping to mute your footsteps on the tiles underneath your feet. You lean against a pool table nearest to the kitchen, the wall being the only separation from you and the rest of the guys currently speaking.

"I'm just saying, we're going on tour in less than a month. It isn't the best idea or ideal to get all caught up on a chick, when we're going to end up being halfway across the country and all you guys will have to hold onto instead of each other, are overpriced phone calls and tissues." You purse your lips as Lars bluntly speaks from only a few feet away from you, the only other sounds coming from around him being scuffed footsteps and the sizzling telltale sign of food currently being cooked on the stove.

"He isn't lying, het. And that isn't us just saying shit because we don't like her, we think she's great. We all do. But think about it for your sake, and for hers too," resounding silence emanates throughout the entirety of the large home, and your stomach drops as it continues to persist until Cliff speaks up again. "You've tried this long-distance relationship bullshit multiple times before, and it didn't work out back then. Why do you think it'll work out now? Because this doesn't feel like another re-run with your ex?"

"She isn't like her at all." Is spoken out gutturally, and you hold your breath as James finally talks for the first time in minutes. His only few words are spoken with such finality, and you decidedly walk into the room and speak up before you could continuously stand there and spiral on your own. You figure you have heard more than enough.

"I think I should head over to my place and see if my dormmates ended up getting some sleep after all," you begin, watching as they all temporarily freeze in place, before quickly coming to the realization that you had almost just heard the entirety of their conversation about you. "Thanks for being so kind and welcoming. I'll be sure to bring back the outfit." You try to smile, but it comes off as too pained and forced. Cliff looks back at you in shock, before his face falls in guilt and remorse, Lars being no better off. Shame is painted on his face, but James' expression is completely closed off and guarded, nothing like how he's been with you, since the very first moment he saw you in his bedroom.

So much for welcome to the family.

You walk towards the nearest exit after a few moments of no one speaking up, uncaring of only being in borrowed socks and with your shoes still being upstairs. You take in a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut, before reopening them and quickly unlatching the lock on the door to the front entrance. The door is only a quarter of an inch open, before a familiar large and ringed hand is pushing it shut and delicately trying to turn you around. You refuse to budge and feel your teeth narrowly miss your bottom lip as you clench your top and bottom sets together, as you feel James' head rest on top of yours from behind.

"Please just hear me out." He pleads, the pained whisper of your name afterwards causing you to sigh and slide out of his grasp and vicinity. You turn to face him, but stare at his chest instead, knowing that if you were to look him in the eye, you would cry.

"Did you already know that you were leaving in less than a month, to go on tour?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, you wishful for it to not shake. Multiple sets of footsteps hastily make their way upstairs, but you continue to stare at his shirt in front of you, still wrinkled in the same places you had gripped at it earlier this morning. "Please, just be honest with me."

"Yes." He regretfully grits, and you huff out a dry laugh, your eyes beginning to sting with frustrated and unshed tears.

"So, you led me on then," your eyes shoot up and cut him short as he opens his mouth to argue and disagree. "You saw me, knew that I got the short end of the stick by my roommates, and thought I'd be an easy lay by the time you packed your things and were ready to get on the road. Is that it?" James vehemently shakes his head no, but you continue, tears embedding themselves in your lower lashes and slowly making their way down your flushed and overheated cheeks.

"You made a promise with me to make things work, and then I come down here after an amazing time and beginning of my day with you, just to walk into a conversation and not only find out that you're leaving in less than a month, but that I'm also being compared to your ex, by your friends and by people who were nothing but nice to me and welcoming for the entire time I was with them at the party. What exactly am I supposed to hear out? Because I think I heard everything just fine."

James reaches up and grips at his own hair before letting out a hallow curse, his expression heartbroken and angered at the same time. Your frustration begins to die down as you see his waterline edge with tears and his lower lip begin to tremble.

"Please just listen to me. Please," James begs, disentangling his hands from his hair to reach out and grab onto your own, his shoulders visibly lowering with relief after you don't immediately pull away. "You didn't hear the entire conversation, I swear. As soon as I came downstairs, the guys started teasing me, talking about how differently I acted last night because I was with you. Normally, I'd be damn near incoherent and trashing the house with strangers and women, but I didn't because I had you. I found you. You came over here, unassuming and nonjudgmental and unknowing of who we were, and you completely dropped me, straight on my ass. You were kind and funny, and treated us equally, the complete and utter opposite of your dormmates. You trusted me the entire party and treated my friends as if they were your own, and the way you took care of Kirk this morning," James stops himself as his voice cracks, his eyes welling up and his hands trembling in yours.

You gently squeeze his palms with silent reassurance, and you allow him to step closer to you, to tower over you and bring your joined hands up to his chest.

"The way you took care of Kirk this morning, and the way you reassured Jason earlier. We heard it, we all did. When you came down, you heard my best friend's fucked up ways of asking if I was ready to try again, to possibly fail at another relationship. That had nothing to do with you, and the fact that you were brought up and compared to someone who is nothing like you and will never be, wasn't fair either," James takes in a tremoring breath and runs his eyes down your form, as if trying to placate himself by reminding himself that you were still there, that you hadn't walked away just yet, that he still had a chance to make things right.

"My ex and I weren't the best. She knew of who I was before we got together, and she was attracted to the idea of me, she didn't love me. She loved the idea of me, the idea of how far the band and I could get her, how far she could get by being with me and being friends with the rest of the guys. I was two months into the last tour and on the road when she called me and broke things off. Said she found someone in another band that had already taken off, and that she didn't need me any longer for temporary footing. She was cheating on me all along. So, when you came down and heard Lars and Cliff being cautious about me moving on and possibly getting myself into a relationship that may or may not be the easiest for you or myself, it didn't have anything to do with you. It had to do with my own fucked up history, with how I messed up on my own and messed myself up before I even met you."

James carefully lets go of your hands to cup and hold your chin like he had done earlier, his once bright and clear eyes, now dull and fragmented. You tilt your head upward and blink rapidly as his fingertips splay across your skin and remind you that he's still there, that he's still here with you. That he isn't going anywhere, not unless you tell him to.

"I didn't tell you about the tour, because our official date keeps on changing. Our producer and team either want to always keep things the same or want us to write and record five more songs in a week. We don't even have an official live setlist yet. But that isn't an excuse, I fucked up by not letting you know what was going on, and that was my fault. In my mind, I still had at most, another thirty days with you, to tell you. To show you I could be what you need, what you want, and to solidify things with you, to the point that me being gone and on tour wouldn't even make a difference between us."

You furrow your brows in confusion, looking up at him with wide and bewildered eyes. "Be what I need, what I want?" You ask, your tone incredulous. "When have I ever specified that I wanted anyone or anything other than you since we've met?" You encircle your hands around his wrists, his pulse ricocheting and racing underneath your fingertips. You tug and gaze up at him intently. "Answer me, please, tell me."

"You didn't have to say anything, I already know," you cut him off by gently placing a kiss on his forearm, and then his inner elbow, his bicep. Your fingers dance up to his shoulders and then enrapture themselves in the wavy locks that bestow themselves on his shoulders and upper back once he lifts you up, your socked feet now inches off the ground.

Calloused palms grip the backs of your upper thighs and hold you in place as your legs raise themselves and hug his middle. "What did I just kiss you with?" You ask in a hurried breath of a whisper, your lips now only a few centimeters away from his own.

"Your mouth." James answers you shakily, the tip of his nose rubbing against yours as he speaks. His eyelids flutter and he sucks in a deep breath as you lean forward and brush your plush set against his, his pupils shot and his heart beating incessantly and erratically in his chest.

"And if it isn't coming from me, and it's in your head, then that means it isn't true. Not completely, at least," you murmur, your tone soft and warm. "The only way I wouldn't want you is if you didn't want me, and I want you just as you are. Sweet and gentle, giving and receiving." James shakes his head in disagreement and rests his forehead against yours.

"I'm different on the road. I drink more often, and the partying can get to my head," he stumbles verbally, his thoughts going a mile a minute. But when he takes a deep breath and refocuses on you, it all starts to clear and pan out. "What you see now is me when I'm controlled. When I'm with you and the guys, things are easy. If I get attached to you, and I go on the road and you aren't there, I don't know what'll happen." You loosen your fingers in his mane and bring them up to caress the sides of his face, to cups his jawline and rub your thumb against the swell of his bottom lip.

"Well then, I guess we've got less than thirty days to get our shit together, together." A grin overtakes his downtrodden features, and his eyes widen with newfound hope. "Together?" He asks you, the thin and nearly nonexistent distance between you two turns into zilch as you guide him forward and place your lips on top of his.

"Together."

Every kiss that you have shared with him so far was electrifying, gut churning, scorching, pulsating and one of its own kind, but this one feels like coming home. From the soft pulses of his own plush lips against yours, to his hands gripping onto the loose fabric of your sweatpants to try and bring you in impossibly closer. To the lack of tears on his waterline when you two disconnect, and the way he whispers your name and the way it makes you smile.

"I need you to go back to your dorm house and get changed, get dressed," James beams, his voice now clear and secure, all of his fears and insecurities gone with you in his arms. "There's some place I want to take you."

⭒

You let out a sigh of relief once you cross the street and see the front door is open again, the sound of a familiar theme song projecting itself from the tv in the living room giving you enough feeling of normalcy to make your way inside and past the screen door and deadbolt. Five pairs of similar looking shoes are neatly placed in a row near the coat and jacket closet, and the attendance sheet still looks the same as it did nearly twelve hours ago, indicating that no one came in and no one went out.

Footsteps pitter their way down the stairs and you suck in a deep breath as your eldest dormmate comes into view, her face neutral and her shoulders upward and narrowed in. Her lips purse in a half scowl as she takes in the change of your outfit from your earlier attire, her eyes raking themselves up and down you in a way that feels overly scrutinizing and uncomfortable.

"You didn't make it back home last night." Is stated dryly, nearly feeling like a punishment itself, like a rough slap to the hand. You twist your fingers in the oversized sleeves of James' shirt, a button tickling the inner skin of your left index finger as you fight the urge to shrink back from her uncaring and demeaning tone. You instead straighten up and meet her halfway and equally for once, opening your shoulders and realigning your back, posture the complete opposite of her own.

"You wouldn't have let me back in if I had knocked, since it was past curfew. And by the time everything was calmed down and situated, the front door was already closed, and the side porch light was off. What else could you have expected me to do, but stay the night?" Silence envelops the small room you two stand in before the dining room and staircase, and you refuse to look away as her eyes widen back at you.

The tv shuts itself off, automatically timed for specific hours of the day, and you expel out an exhausted sigh as the silence drones on. "I'll be back before curfew, I'll get my chores done in time, I'll go to my classes and focus on my studies." You recite without flaw, the never-ending poem of bullshit you had just reiterated stapled and laminated on top of the fridge, right above the chronological and numerical, age ordered chore list, with your name directly on the bottom of it.

Your elder dormmate hums and gives you one last once over, before skirting herself towards the kitchen. You freeze mid step as you're halfway up the flight of stairs, her trilling voice sounding like it was right behind you as she voices out from the other side of the compacted and overshared home. A mischievous smile breaks through your lowered mood at her next words, the bottom hem of James' shirt nearly lifted over your head before you make it to your bedroom.

"Music was off before four in the morning this time, good job."

You make sure your door is fully shut and locked before you squat near the end of your bed and reach forward for your secret compartment, relief flooding through you as your fingertips graze the still closed latch. Bright whites and yellows lighten up the beige of your assigned bedroom, and a content grin lifts your lips as your eyes set and stop on a particular white, lacy bra and matching sundress. You make sure to dress as quickly as you can, using a small handle on your wooden, makeshift closet, to tighten and readjust the last lining of lace on the upper part of the back of your white linen.

You put back on and readjust the sweatpants and dress shirt over your main outfit and slide on a pair of brown boots, before hurrying back downstairs and safely making it past your elder dormmates, your signing out signature messily scrawled on the paper and its tethered pen swinging in the wake of you making a break for it back outside.

⭒

You untangle your hair from the top button of James' dress shirt, tossing a playful glare over your shoulder as he lets out a hilarity filled laugh at the sight of you struggling. You hear his laughter die down as soon as you remove his clothing from your upper half and slide the sweatpants down your legs.

"Is something still funny?" You innocently ask, locking your booted ankles together as you lean back against the warming up car, your eyes wide with amusement and his enlarged in wonder and awe. You watch him swallow thickly and quietly shake his head, his eyes flickering down to the swell of your breasts and the accentuated curves of your hips and thighs. "Didn't think so, big boy." A soft smile makes its way on your face and curves your lips upward, as an innocent blush colors his cheeks at the endearing and teasing nickname.

"So, where are you taking me?" You narrow your eyes as James lightly shrugs instead of answering and places a hand on your lower back to guide you over to the passenger's side of the car, his rough fingertips teasing at the lace embodying itself on the natural curvature of your spine and arched back.

"Now if I told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, now would it?" He rebuts, a teasing and mirthful grin taking over his features as he opens the door for you and carefully closes it once you're fully sat down inside and situated. You turn your head to the side and stare out the window to hide your enamored grin, your heart fluttering in your chest at his chivalrous actions. James slides an arm over the large one-seater in the front of the car once he's back in and tugs you closer over to his side, your left leg insistently pressing itself against the center console as he brings your upper half flush to his side. You ignore the pressure on your limb and rest your head against his muscled and stable shoulder, placing a feather of a kiss on his clothed arm as he backs the car out of the long driveway and steadily begins to drive you two down the street.

Orange and yellow bellows itself through the windows as the sun relaxedly begins to set, and you watch with partially closed eyes as the familiar streets slowly fade away, nature eventually taking over mail trucks and rush hour traffic. Large, colorful bushes and vine covered fences greet you as James makes his way into a completely empty parking lot and places his car in park. Your eyes widen as you turn your head to look around in curiosity and find a large patch of land, completely covered in daffodils.

"When the hell did you find this? This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen." You gasp out, eagerly waiting for James to make it back over to your side of the car after he insists on opening your door for you again. You gratefully hold onto his extended hand as you exit the car, the loose fabric at the bottom of your dress making it harder for you to see and be mindful of your own footing.

"I got really overwhelmed one day and felt like shit afterwards, so I took a long drive and ended up over here. Now I come whenever I need a bit of time alone and space away from everybody." James explains, his arms encircling themselves around you from behind as you two make your way over to the land covered in spring flowers. You both exhale out a huff of laughter as you two stumble forward, the smile on your lips only widening as he places your feet on top of his. You stand still and straighten up as he begins a steady pace, letting out a shriek as you two go tumbling backwards in the grass as your boots slide off his and cause your feet to unceremoniously intertwine. You hear him let out a soft oof as you two make contact with the partially softened ground, a loud guffaw punching itself out of your chest as you twist around and see the look of shock on James' face.

"Are you alright?" You try to ask through tear filled laughter, wincing and letting out a short cry of pain as your side begins to cramp up due to the force of your amused movements. You can barely see him through your tears, but you could feel him vibrate with mirth underneath you. You take in a deep breath and go to partially lie down on his front, reaching forward to press his wrists on either side of his head, a playful smile lifting your lips. "I asked you a question, if I remember correctly." You muse.

James raises an eyebrow up at you, before letting out an amused laugh, going pliant under your hold. "I'm alright, angel. Don't you worry about me." The sincere tone in his voice makes you melt, and you can't help but rest your chest against his and lean down to give him a kiss. You easily get lost in it, the finesse of his tongue and the caressing arch above his upper lip enough to take your attention off of the beautiful scenery surrounding the two of you. You let out a hum as James lightly laughs against your kiss bruised lips, before gasping as large hands escape your loose grip and flip you two over entirely. Your head gently lands on a small bound of yellow flowers, and an incredulous chortle rings in the heady air surrounding you, it quickly turning into a light and confused sound as your hands are place over and away from your head.

"Is this your way of letting me know you like being on top?" You ask him playfully, the smile on your face turning into a small gape as you watch his eyes darken as he stares down at you. You feel a shiver run through you as James' hold on your wrists gently tightens, the pressure of him nearly lying on top of you adding to the warmth quickly making its way down to your groin. "James?" You whisper out, biting back a gasp as his denim clad leg purposefully and roughly rubs against the sensitive, upper and inner skin of your thighs.

James' eyes dart down to your breasts, the underwire of your bra lifting and holding them in just the right place, even as you're laid down and nearly spread apart underneath him. A flush on your chest begins to develop as he leans back to look down at the way your dress rises with each light blow of the wind, his firm grasp around your wrists now gone, but you continue to hold still and keep them in place.

Your hips jump up in his light hold as he just barely runs his hands down your clothed sides, your center beginning to throb and your sex starting to dampen as his hands make themselves lower, and lower. James bites back a grin as his eyes dart up from your form and see the desperate look on your face, his own length filling out and pulsating at the simple art and view of you laid out for him, beneath him and staying just as he left you. "You're being so good for me, I think you deserve a reward," he praises, running a ringed hand up your middle, only to divert and cup one of your breasts instead. You let out a resounding gasp as he flips his hand over and uses the cool side of a ring to lightly run it over your hardening nub through your dress's fabric. "Anything you want baby, and I'll give it to you." He promises, his tone heartfelt and sincere as he teases your oversensitive nipple and slides his leg up in between yours to lightly tap it against your swelling and soaked clit. You cry out a mewl and buck up to rub your sex against the rough fabric of his jeaned leg, tears of relief stinging your eyes as James presses his thigh against your core to add more dizzying pressure.

"That's right, baby, use my thigh," He encourages, reaching down to shove the rest of your lower dress's fabric up to your middle, letting out a broken curse as your essence is obvious and seeping through the fabric of your lace lined underwear. "You can be as loud as you need to be, sweetheart. I'll take such good care of you. We won't leave until I've made you cum at least twice. Want to make such a pretty fucking mess out of you." You twist your wrists to the side and grasp onto grass for leverage as your first orgasm pummels through you, your hips raising off the ground and your legs encircling themselves around his middle. James grips your waist as you tremor in his hold, his mouth salivating at the sight of the soaked fabric sticking itself to your sensitive pussy, now just a few inches away from his sore and heavy feeling dick.

He closes his eyes and forces himself to not dive headfirst in between your shaking limbs and lick and suck you clean, until tears are streaming down your beautifully flushed cheeks and the only word you're able to verbalize is his name. Until you spread your legs even wider and welcome him inside you, the force of his thrusts making him bottom out and have his hips flush against yours, the only sound above the two of your guys' moans being the slick attaching itself and breaking apart at the center of your connecting flesh.

You reach up and caress the side of his face with a shaky hand, greeting him with a blissful smile once he reopens his cobalt blue eyes and amorously looks back down into your own. You unsteadily use your core muscles to lower your clothed pussy on top of his jean clad bulge, a gasp tearing itself out of your chest at the rough slide of fabric against your clit and a moan reverberating in his throat as your core's heat bleeds through his denim and straight onto his dick. "You can use me too, get off just like this." You grant permission, your wide eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head at the first slide of a weighted thrust against your soaked and sensitive bundle of nerves.

James' mind seems to blank and glaze over once you verbalize your consent, his movements and further words now only encouraged by the thought of making you cum again and getting rid of the dull ache in between his legs, musky and thick globs of pre-ejaculate staining and making their way through his briefs and thick lining of his zipper. You reach forward and bring yourself halfway off your back to grab at the button keeping the jeans attached to his hips fully closed, tugging the fabric down to the ends of his thighs and sending him a grateful look once he accommodates your movements and helps you pull down the skin clad denim. James sighs in relief once the pressure is removed from on top of his dick, his hands immediately venturing down to the backs of your knees to slide you back down on the naturally blanketed ground and spread your legs even wider and further apart. Your cheeks burn as he aligns his clothed cockhead against the center of the wet patch of your release through your underwear, a whine of his name on the edge of your thirsted tongue as he reaches down to entangle his fingers with yours instead of fucking himself against you.

A teasing smile licks at the crown of his lips as his hungry eyes take in every inch of you, the way your clit visibly pulsates beads of arousal through the cotton and the way your stomach sucks in a deep breath every time he slightly pushes his hips forward to rub his swollen and red cockhead against the center of your weeping pussy. James bends down and presses his upper half against you to place a reassuring kiss on your gaping and gasping mouth, the tip of his tongue teasing your bottom lip as he finally begins to rub and thrust his dick against you.

"Do you see what you do to me, can you feel it?" He asks you huskily, his eyelids feeling heavy and half open as he fucks himself against you with reckless abandon, grunting as his cockhead roughly brushes against your clit and your previous release bleeds its way onto and inside his own protective layer. You squeeze your fingers around his as you desperately nod, a wet cry of a moan trapped inside your throat as your hands are held down by his and his cock expertly rubs itself against your oversensitive and numbing pussy. "Bet you'd feel so tight around me, making a mess out of my cock and cumming all down your own legs," He whispers against you, his eyes baring themselves into yours as he watches tears of pleasure swell in your eyes and cascade down your temples. Your thighs seize in around him as you feel the familiar and overwhelming sensation of another orgasm approaching, your spine arching itself off the ground underneath you and your lower stomach brushing against his happy trail, your eyes squeezing shut as his lips part against yours and you two share huffed breaths of moans and gasps. "You think you can cum again for me, baby? Right against me this time? Make my cock nice and wet for me?"

"Yes, yes," you whisper against him in a mantra, your eyes snapping back open as your release bends its way out of you, James letting out a pleasured groan as your nails dig into the backs of his hands and your slick clings to both of your guys' underwear, them matting in the middle and creating the perfect slide in between you two. "Don't stop, want you to cum against me." You weep, whimpering in oversensitivity as he nods against you and slides his hands down to grip at your waist, leaning back to rest the backs of his thighs against the heels of his shoed feet. You watch as his eyes glaze over once again, as the muscles in his forearms tighten and become taught as he uses you for his own personal pleasure, the wet stain on his underwear starting to have a white hue as his balls begin to raise and tighten.

Your breasts begin to bounce with the force of his humps and thrusts against you, your stomach tightening with overstimulation as his jaw drops and his mouth pops open, guttural sounds of desperation and deep-rooted pleasure clawing its way out of his drying throat. "I bet you'd feel so good inside of me," you start, a moaned mewl interrupting you as his cockhead rubs at your entrance, the flimsy and thin material of your underwear bending inward to allow him to almost slide through and be exactly where he truly wants to be, where he craves. "You'd stretch me open and fill me up so nicely, paint me white and keep me warm." You pant, pleasure starting to come back as he nearly tears the cotton and makes his way inside of you with the force behind his hips, his fingertips digging into your skin in the most delicious way.

"Is that it? That's what you want?" He asks you through a hearty and thick moan, his voice graveled and almost baritone, his release tittering and on the edge as he watches your tits bounce and your wide eyes stare back up at him with overwhelming and unadulterated lust. "You want me to breed you, fuck you until you're loose and spasming around me? Until you can't speak or walk, because you're shaking so much?" James groans at his own words, the images flooding through his mind of you fully naked and underneath him, begging for him to fuck you harder and hold you in place as he brings you both over the edge, is what causes him to cum, the thick seed coating and covering the entirety of his length and shooting up past the elastic of his briefs.

You watch in awe as white spurts make their way onto his happy trail and bead through the darkened, wet patches of his underwear, the throbbing and pulsation of his release being able to be felt through both of your fabrics and reverberate back down onto your clit. James fucks himself against you and through his cocks last efforts of emptying itself messily all over himself and both of your front's, the crease in between his brows smoothing out and his grip on your sides softening and turning into a shaky caress.

"Are you alright, angel?" He asks you. His chest heaving, back taut and muscles contracting, his ballsack still raised and swollen, but his main priority being to make sure he wasn't too rough with you and that you are okay. He can't help but smile down at you as you let out a small bout of incredulous laughter, your hair pillowing out beneath you as you fully lay back and relax in the grass surrounded by flowers. James follows soon after you, biting back a grimace as your shared releases stick uncomfortably to his groin, his arms instinctually wrapping themselves around your shoulders and guiding your back against his front. You close your eyes and slide a leg in between his, the rough denim keeping your limb warm as the sun fully sets and the chill in the air from earlier this morning slowly returns.

"I'm more than alright." You finally answer, your voice nearly gone and your head now resting on the side of his bicep, your lidded eyes blearily looking forward and at his car as you feel his mouth descend down to your neck. Morning stubble tickles the sensitive skin, and you close your eyes in contentment as you feel him smile against you.

"Only thirty days to solidify things with me, huh?" You decide to tease, letting out a shrill as blunt teeth playfully nip at your clavicle. James laps at the spot with his tongue and grins widely as you let out a weak sound of protest, before tilting his head back up to rest it on top of yours. "Less than thirty days to prove to you that we can make this work." He gently corrects you, loosening an arm around you to reach down and readjust your dress and tug it back down to cover your upper legs. You gently turn and twist yourself in his hold to face him, and you bring a hand up to run it through his messy mane, brushing it away from his line of view as he gazes down at you.

"Less than thirty days to prove to each other that we can make this work." You whisper, delicately correcting him this time, the feeling in your chest light, but energetic as James gifts you with an insurmountably soft look and bestows his lips upon yours. You reel your head back to look up at him, your other hand grasping at the same wrinkles you had caused earlier, your grin lifting as you watch his lashes tiredly flutter and meet in the middle as he temporarily closes his eyes.

"I think we should head back and clean up, before we both fall asleep." You huff as he lets out a resounding groan and slouches against you, before nodding and guiding you both up into a sitting position. His arm lowers from your shoulders to rub at the lower of your back, letting out a whistle as his eyes catch on to the grass stains and small clumps of dirt littered on the back of your dress.

"And I think you should take your outfit to the dry cleaner's," He rebuts, laughter evident in his tone as you raise a hand to lightly smack him on the chest. Comfortable silence wraps itself around you two as he helps you up off the ground and walks you back over to his car.

You lean back against the passenger side's front door, resting your head on the window as James places a hand near the crown of your head and carefully pulls blades of grass out of your mussed and messy hair. His thumb glides down to tilt your head upward, blue immediately locking you in as you two look back at each other, his eyes filled with devotion and yours with adoration. "We'll make this work, I don't care what it takes." He promises you, swears. You nod against his touch and lean into his warmth as he brings you into his arms, the cold breeze no match against the unbridled joy and avidity making its way to your heart.

You two will work it out, no matter the circumstances.

And even if I was told of how things would pan out, and all it would take for us to even get to where we are now, I'd still go through it all anyway, and again. Twice.

#metallica #james hetfield #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield smut #kirk hammett #jason newsted #lars ulrich #cliff burton #metallica smut #metallica x reader #metallica imagines #metallica fanfiction

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lustspren · 1 year

Text

STARBOY EP 2. Prisoner ft Tiffany Young.

length: 8.4k words✦

Tiffany Young & Male Reader.

genres: dom! Tiffany, bdsm, degradation, hard sex, blowjob, handjob, face sitting, mommy kink, creampie, ✧

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Moving was fucking stressful. You didn’t have many things to carry, in fact, all your belongings and your clothes fit in a single suitcase and a bag, but you still had to get up very early in the morning to get everything in order as quickly as possible, that without removing the fact that there would be paperwork related to the condominium which you weren’t going to be able to complete before the meeting time with Sunmi. You would have time to worry about that later, right now you were only focused on not being late.

Heejin was extremely nervous while you two were waiting for the taxi, she bit her nails very often, and walked in one direction back and forth while biting the skin of her lips. She, unlike you, had three suitcases, and you had no fucking idea what exactly she was carrying in each other than her clothes. In a moment of anxiety and crisis last night after receiving the news, she locked herself in the bathroom and came out with her hair cut to her shoulders; your first impulse was to ask her what the hell she had done and what she was thinking, but just looking at her for a few seconds made you realize how incredibly beautiful she looked. It was one of the many qualities of hers, no matter what hairstyle she wore, she looked like a beauty goddess with each one of them.

"Can you stand still? You make me nervous," you turned to her. She was wearing a gray jean jacket with a tight black tank top under it, black joggers and converse sneakers; when you told her that she turned around and walked to stand next to you.

"How do you ask me to stay still when I'm moving to a place I never thought I'd go in my whole fucking life?!" she snapped, her brow furrowed, "and if that wasn't enough, I'm going to be a fucking burden to you," she was about to turn her back on you and keep walking, but you grabbed her wrist firmly and pulled her back.

"Listen to me, Jeon Heejin," you looked into her eyes, released her wrist and took her hands, "you're not going to be a burden to me, okay? I want to give you a good life, the life you deserve," you caressed the back of her hands with your thumbs, "besides, do you seriously expect me to enjoy a place like that by myself? Nah, I need my Heekie there."

Heejin had a moment of silence as her face softened.

"God, you're so clingy," she sighed before wrapping her arms around your torso and burying her face in your chest.

"I think that's why I drive you so crazy," you wrapped your arms around her.

"Shut up the fuck up, wimp," she said, her gaze lost on her somewhere down the street.

Not a minute passed when a four-door black car stopped in front of you, it was the taxi you were waiting for.

Getting the suitcases inside the car was a difficult task, only two fit in the trunk of the car, while the other two were lying on the back seats. Heejin was left with no choice but to sit on top of you in the passenger seat, her ass pressing against your crotch quite intentionally. You stirred a little nervously, and looked out the window so as not to lose concentration.

"To Hannam the Hill, please."

—-------------------------------------------------

After a few directions the taxi dropped you and Heejin right in front of the apartment complex. You opened your door, letting her get out first. Her reaction was priceless, she immediately reminded you of you last night, you were sure you had the same surprised face, as if you were taking a child to an incredible place she had never been before; it was definitely a new world for her.

"It doesn't make any fucking sense, does it?" you laughed as you got out of the car, to walk to the trunk of the car.

"This place is amazing, like, what the fuck..." Heejin moved a little away from the taxi to get a more detailed view of the place, "is that a fucking mall?" she pointed out innocently.

"How about you help me get down the corpses you have as suitcases?" you said as you lowered the first suitcase and left it on the sidewalk.

"Oh sure, sorry."

Once you unloaded all the suitcases and your things from the car, you and Heejin walked to the entrance of the building, where the same doorman from the night before stood guard unperturbed.

"Good morning, sir, let me help you with that" the man recognized you right away and gave you a slight bow, the same towards Heejin, "Good morning, young lady," he said, then you handed him the two suitcases you were carrying.

"Good morning," you greeted back, "could you please tell me what time it is?" you already had your hand on the door handle.

"9:57 AM," he replied, after checking his watch.

"Fuck, right on time," you sighed in relief, then opened the door for the man and Heejin to walk through.

"Damn, I've never been treated so courteously," Heejin said as you walked toward the elevator, "and I've certainly never been called that before."

"Well, you'll have to get used to it. Let me help you with that," you took the two missing bags she was carrying from her hands.

The doorman had taken the elevator first, but it wasn't until it went down again that you and Heejin took it to get to the floor of your apartment. The man was waiting for you there, the suitcases by his side.

"Have a nice day, see you later," the man said goodbye as he walked past you and into the elevator, leaving the two of you alone in the cold and lonely hallway.

"Well, here we go, are you ready?" you saw her.

"Nope, but come on, let's do it," she nodded.

You took the lead, Heejin following close behind as you turned right, heading straight for the apartment door, which was made of a completely different wood that you couldn't identify, but still looked no less expensive than Sunmi's.

"Holy crap, this thing alone is more expensive than our previous apartment," Heejin said from behind you.

"'Right? I said the same thing, it's ridiculous."

It was enough to ring the bell once for the nerves to turn into tickles in your spine, as well as a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach; you had been through the same thing last night, exactly the same situation, but it still felt the same way, like you were a little mouse going right into its trap.

The door opened in a matter of seconds, and how could it be otherwise, Miss Lee looked stunning, short jean skirt, high-soled shoes, black socks below the knees and a sleeveless polo shirt. She looked at you and then looked at Heejin with that cold look that characterized her.

"I'm glad you're punctual, it will certainly be a plus for you," it was an awkward way to greet you, but at least you were thankful that she hadn't spit in your face.

"Good morning Miss Lee," you bowed, "Uh, this is Heejin…" you stepped aside so she could get a good look at her, "my roommate."

"Ah... hi, it's my pleasure," Heejin gave her an awkward smile, followed by a giggle, it was clear that she couldn't hide her nerves, especially when she didn't expect Sunmi to be that intimidating.

"Hm..." Sunmi scrutinized her from head to toe, "what do you do for a living, girl?"

"I-I'm... a graphic designer, and cartoonist," you could almost hear her gulp as she said that.

"Interesting..." Sunmi nodded slowly, "she's definitely gorgeous, take good care of her unless you want some famous athlete or investor's son to steal her away from you," she told you, especially emphasizing that last sentence as a threat, "well, let's go in, I'll give you a tour of your new apartment."

You and Heejin exchanged worried and nervous looks before following Sunmi inside.

The apartment was a million times more impressive than you imagined, so the two of you shared the same level of awe as you took your first steps. The aesthetics of the apartment was completely different from that of Sunmi, the wood of the floor and the walls were light gray, with some areas painted white, and the most remarkable thing for you were the two white marble columns, one next to the kitchen bar, and another one above the artificial fireplace in front of the living room, which, as if that were not enough, was gigantic, with the large window that occupied almost the entire left wall covered by white curtains, and a chain of L-shaped sofas on top of a rug that matched the surroundings.

"I had it cleaned first thing in the morning, so everything is spotless," Sunmi said proudly, as she walked in front of the two of you, then stopped in the middle of the living room.

"I can't believe you're letting me live in a place like this, what the fuck," you said, still stunned as you stared at the TV set up on the opposite side of the marble column.

"Is that a mirror?!" Heejin asked out loud looking up, sure enough, there was a large mirror on the ceiling just above the coffee table in the middle of the rug.

"Well, I guess I don't need to explain everything to you, you guys aren't stupid," Sunmi said, also looking at the mirror, "this is the living room, what's behind me is the kitchen, and there's the dining table. "

"Seriously, do we also have our own wine reserve?" You pointed to the bottle rack behind the pillar next to the kitchen.

"You're going to need it from time to time, just enjoy it."

"The only time I've had expensive wine in my life was literally 4 years ago," Heejin mentioned as she stood in front of the glass protected bottle rack.

"And you still have a lot of things to know, girl. Come on, I'll show you the rest."

The tour of the apartment was made quite short, Sunmi took the two of you to see the guest bathroom (or common bathroom), which had almost nothing special, however, the one in the main bedroom left you with the great surprise, it had a hot tub that was at least 3 meters wide and long, lit with RGB lights that were set to white by default. You also saw the other bedroom, which you clearly weren't going to use, and an office with a bookcase and a desk that you clearly weren't going to use either.

"Well, that's it, I have to go," Sunmi said when you returned from leaving the suitcases in the bedroom, "here are the keys, don't you dare lose them."

"Heejin and I are very grateful, Miss Lee, it's amazing," you replied as you took the keys and bowed, Heejin did the same.

"Then I hope you make this worthwhile for me, boy," she threatened, "and you," she fixed Heejin with her eyes, "make sure you don't leave his balls dry, his job depends on it."

You noticed how your face started to get hot, you were sure that you had blushed with embarrassment, just like Heejin.

"Ah… o-okay," your roommate nodded, again, using her smile as a defense mechanism against her nerves.

"Anyways, you'll have work tonight, I'll send you the information in the afternoon," Sunmi turned and started to walk to the exit, "Oh, and I must warn you about one thing," she paused with her hand on the handle, "she has a... strong temper, bye!"

And with that, she opened the door and walked out of the apartment. Heejin and you were alone.

"Oh no, you're gonna be pegged."

"Shut the fuck up!" you complained, earning a laugh from Heejin.

"Who knew you were going to get fucked in the ass before me," she continued as you sat down on the couch and sank into the soft seat.

"You sound jealous," you closed your eyes and clasped your hands on your abdomen.

"Hell nah, I'm not into that shit," you felt Heejin sit next to you.

"You haven't even tried."

"And I don't want to either."

"You'd let me fuck any hole in you just by asking, what the fuck are you talking about?"

After saying that you noticed that Heejin fell silent, it wasn't until he opened her eyes that you caught her staring at you, probably insulting you in the most horrible ways possible in her head.

"What?" you smiled mischievously.

"At least I would be fucked in the ass by choice."

"So, you would let me do it?" you raised both eyebrows.

"Nope. I'll go unpack my things," with that said, she stood up and disappeared from your sight.

You stayed alone in the living room, enjoying the peaceful silence with your eyes closed, you needed that, after all, a moment of meditation was the first thing you needed to assimilate everything that was happening. You really were in an apartment in the most exclusive area of Seoul, where you were going to live with the girl you loved; if you told the you of a few weeks ago that this was going to happen you would probably have told yourself that you were crazy, but that was the way things were now, and as incredible as it was, it was your new reality.

—------------------------------

7:23 PM

It was obvious that neither you nor Heejin were going to go out to the supermarket with so many things to organize in the apartment, so the two of you opted to order food. The selection had been easy, both of you wanted to eat sushi for days, so there you two were, sitting in the living room, with the view of the city of Seoul to your right. Surreal.

"I still can't believe any of this," Heejin said beside you, her mouth half full of the sushi roll, she took a moment to swallow, "I thought I'd end up serving ice cream at McDonalds."

"Well, at least you had a vision of your future, I didn't even have that," you replied, before eating a roll while watching the news on TV.

"I wasn't going to let you be a bum, I think that's for sure," she set the tray down on the table in front of you next to the chopsticks and pulled her legs up into your lap.

"I don't think it's the most romantic time to say it," you said gesturing towards the food, "but I feel very grateful to have you in my life, I mean, I don't know what I would do without you," you turned to meet her eyes.

She saw you back with a cute little smile on her face.

"God, you're so cute, come here," Heejin took the food from your hands and placed it on the table, then climbed onto your lap and squeezed her thighs on either side of your body. At your side you had a few napkins, she took one and wiped your mouth.

"Please don't make fun of me," you said, embarrassed at how corny you had been.

"Nah," Heejin wrapped her arms around your neck and leaned in a few inches until you two were face to face, "I'll give you what a lovely boy like you deserves."

Heejin slowly closed the distance between both faces, her lips were already brushing against yours, but before she kissed you, your phone vibrated in your pocket along with the personalized notification you had set for Sunmi.

"This has to be a fucking joke," you whispered bitterly, pulling away a bit to check the phone. Sunmi's message contained all the information you needed.

<< Tiffany Young, entrepreneur, economist, and investor, I owe so much of my success to her and her great business models. Be a good boy, and for god's sake, don't make her upset. >> Next thing was only a time and an address.

"You must go?" Heejin asked, looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

"Mjum, I have to get ready and I'll be there at 8, sorry Hekkie," you put the phone down and gave her a little kiss on the lips, "when I get back we'll do whatever you want, I promise."

"Can we see Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi?" It was her favorite movie.

"Of course," you kissed her forehead, "now get down, I don't want a cucumber up my ass."

"Right, I almost forgot you're gonna be pegged," Heejin said as she got off your lap and lay on the couch with her head on the armband.

"I'm gonna pound your ass so fucking hard that you're going to have to walk in a wheelchair," you threatened as you stood up, then walked into the bedroom.

"Is that a reward or a punishment?" you heard Heejin say behind your back. Brat.

You really didn't have much to prepare before you left, you had showered minutes ago, and you already had half of your outfit on, you only needed a coat due to the low temperatures outside. When you were ready, you met Heejin at the door of the apartment.

"God, I'm nervous," you took a deep breath.

"I know, this will be your first anal experience, it must be weird," Heejin patted you on the shoulder, as she nodded and feigned understanding.

"I'm beginning to think you're seriously jealous," you narrowed your eyes at her.

"Maybe I am, you'll find out later, now go away, wimp," she poked you on the forehead with her middle finger.

"Take care, okay? I'll be right back as soon as I'm done," you gave her a little kiss on the forehead, then she nodded like a good girl.

"I'll be waiting for you, bye," she said, as you opened the door and left the apartment.

The address you'd been given wasn't too far from your building, in fact it was only a few buildings up, so you decided to walk. Upon arrival you were greeted with the same protocol as always, and in no time you were in the elevator to the woman's floor.

You walked down the hallway, much like the ones in your building, and came to the door corresponding to the apartment number. You rang the bell, expecting a bit of a delay in response, but as soon as you did, your hostess for today opened the door for you.

For a moment you thought your jaw would drop to the ground.

You had no fucking idea what to look at first, she was wearing a short black skirt, a tight sheer tank top and a black corset that showed off her luscious cleavage, and if that wasn't enough, she had small hole fishnets on her creamy legs. Her hair was jet black, and there wasn't much to say about her face, she was stupidly beautiful, her bright red lips immediately caught your eye. She gave you the same vibes as Sunmi, but there was a big difference, this woman did not have a resting bitch face, on the contrary, her face only said: << Make me mad and I swear I will beat the shit out of you >>.

"Ah, you must be the boy," she looked you up and down carefully, her brow furrowed, "come in."

You bowed as a sign of respect and entered without saying a single word, you were afraid that she would slap you for simply speaking. Her apartment was not very different from yours, it had a very similar style, only with a tighter distribution of space and very different furniture, you could tell that she had paid for a total remodeling, but what caught your attention the most was the strange presence of leather in... almost everything.

"Sit down," she commanded imperatively, gesturing toward the black leather couch.

So you did, and as soon as your butt was planted there, the woman climbed onto your lap and pressed her thighs against you in a firm grip.

"Okay, here are the rules, little toy," she looked into your eyes. You could have sworn she was judging your soul at the time, "First of all, you're not allowed to touch me for anything in the fucking world unless I tell you to; you'll answer to absolutely any nickname I give, no matter what it is; and more importantly, you're only allowed to speak when I ask you a question, and calling me two things: Miss Tiffany, and Mommy," she paused briefly, "got it, little toy?"

"Yes mommy," you nodded, and then gulped.

"Mmm, you're obviously a good boy, I think I like you..." Tiffany said, running her fingers through your hair and looking at you as if she was going to devour you, "I'm going to have a lot of fun using you."

And there you were again, being the prey. Your heart was pounding, and you were tense as shit; not even Sunmi had made you feel as tiny as Tiffany did, she radiated a dominating and imposing energy that you hadn't seen before, and half of all that energy was focused on how she saw you. Little by little, pegging ceased to be a fear and became a reality.

"Sunmi told me your cock was amazing... <<I've never tasted a so big and delicious one>>" she said, "Tiffany reached a hand between your bodies and went down to grab your cock in a strong grip, " I'll have to judge that myself," she whispered, caressing your bulge with the palm of her hand.

She closed the distance to kiss you, and it was obvious you weren't even going to bother being in control since it was impossible, so you just let her attack your mouth however she wanted. It didn't take long for you to feel her tongue collide with yours, and with each passing second she became more aggressive with her caresses, to the point where she was almost jerking you off over your clothes, a moan escaped you in the middle of the kiss.

"Oh, what did I just hear?" Tiffany broke the kiss. Fuck, "do you like that, pervert?"

"I... yes, yes mommy," you pursed your lips, your breathing a little uneasy.

As soon as you said that Tiffany was back to stroking your bulge furiously, a mischievous grin slowly creeped in. You couldn't explain why, since you've never had anything like this done to you, but it felt so fucking good, which made your face twitch a bit and your hips squirm; that of course caused her glee.

She did for a few more seconds, but stopped out of nowhere when she saw a small, prominent stain on your pants.

"Oh no… The little pervert is already spilling," Tiffany said with fake pity in her voice, "I haven't even touched your dick yet, you're so fucking pathetic," she got off your lap and stood up, pulling on your hoodie so that you would get up too.

She dragged you out of the living room, down the halls, and ended up in front of a dark mahogany door. Tiffany opened it, and you felt your spine suddenly freeze. At first glance it might seem like a normal room, dark, and full of elements that seemed to be taken from Morticia Addams' room, but as you looked at all the details you realized that... It was also a dungeon. A sex dungeon.

"Get undressed, now, but leave your boxers" she ordered once you entered and she had closed the door.

You started right away, starting with your shoes, your hoodie, and lastly your pants; when you finished, Tiffany came back with something in her hands. Handcuffs.

"Oh, what a nice body you have…" she placed her cold hand on your chest, and slowly lowered it past your abdomen to your rock-hard cock, giving it a slightly softer, slower squeeze, "I think I won't be so mean to you."

She slowly pushed you back to the side of the room, where there was a suspiciously lonely chair next to the bed. You knew what was about to happen, and you didn't know if you were excited or terrified to the bone.

"Seat," she commanded, and you, like an obedient dog, complied, "good boy," you saw how she disappeared from your sight to crouch behind you, you couldn't see anything, but suddenly she grabbed your two wrists and put them together behind the chair, the next thing you felt was the cold metal of the handcuffs surrounding them and holding them firmly, you tried to struggle, but you only got pain from how tight they were.

Tiffany took a few more seconds to come back in front of you, when she did you realized why, now she was completely naked, except for her black lace panties. Your eyes immediately went wild, running over every inch of her tight, pretty body with them, especially her pretty tits and her fishnet-adorned thighs. She opened your legs abruptly and knelt between them, she looked into your eyes, her gaze seemed to weigh the same as an aircraft carrier, because even holding her felt impossible for you, she was the most imposing woman you had ever met in your life.

She started with gentle strokes on your inner thighs, using the pads of all her fingers, going down to your knees but never quite touching your cock, but instead of her hands, she laid her tongue flat against the rear and gave you a very slow lick to your tip, a slight shiver attacked your whole body, followed by a deep gasp as Miss Tiffany took you into her mouth and began to aggressively suck half of your cock, the change had been so sudden that you squirmed a little in the chair, but after a few seconds you got used to it, and you couldn't do anything else but enjoy the not at all careful blowjob you were receiving.

Your hostess knew perfectly well what she was doing, it might seem that she was destroying your cock without any kind of mercy, but despite how strong and fast she was sucking you off, you could tell that for the two of you it felt fucking incredible. Tiffany constantly moaned around your cock, and you accompanied her with little shudders and gasps. Her nails dug hard into your thighs, that caused a deep growl to shake your throat, you were sure that several of those marks were going to bleed when she pushed her nails away.

"Oh my fucking god, your cock is so fucking delicious, fuck!" she rasped after pulling your saliva-soaked shaft out of her mouth, she lifted one hand from your thigh, only to jerk you off furiously. Just as you expected, her fingernails had caused you to bleed a bit, it stung, but you didn't even have time to focus on it, "You're going to give me a big fucking load right now, is that clear, you fucking disgusting toy?"

"Y-yes..." you only managed to say in a mix between pleasure from how she masturbated you and pain from her nails digging into your other thigh.

"Yes WHAT?!" she screamed at you, to dig her nails in even harder, you screamed in pain.

"Yes mommy! I'll give you my whole load, fuck!" you yelled back, and she finally pulled her nails from your thigh, to lay her hand flat. The marks bled in little trickles. Nothing to worry about, but still painful.

"That's a good fucking boy!" she said, as she masturbated you with all her might. Your cock was starting to dry from the mere friction, but she brought her free hand to her mouth, released a big spit on it and brought it to your shaft, turning it into an amazing two-handed lubricated handjob.

The wet sounds of their hands rubbing furiously against your cock and your little moans were the only noise that filled the room, you were tense in your chair, you couldn't see them, but you knew your knuckles were already white from how hard you were clenching your fists You were going to explode at any moment. Tiffany's arms didn't seem to tire at all, it seemed like she could be doing that all night, even if it meant ripping the skin off your cock.

"Come on you disgusting piece of shit, cum for mommy, give your whole fucking load to mommy," she demanded between her teeth, staring at you with those parted red lips.

You were very close, your breathing was already beginning to betray you, and all the pleasure that ran through your body was suddenly concentrated in your lower abdomen, and your eyes were narrowed as you felt the spark of your orgasm blossoming. Your hips squirmed in the chair as you fired your load, several spurts of it hitting your abdomen, the rest just going into her hands and joining the handjob. You had already cum, but even so Tiffany didn’t slow down, nor did she stop, quite the contrary, she went faster; she was overstimulating you, so you squirmed like a worm in the chair because of how sensitive your cock had become. You complained loudly, with huge yells and little taps of your foot on the floor, but Tiffany didn't care.

"You're going to give me another one, that's a fucking order, you fucking trash," she said imperatively, masturbating you into a mix of her saliva and your own cum. You could notice that it wasn’t the first time she had done this; she was rubbing the tip of your cock with her hand in quick circles, while with the other she kept rubbing all over your shaft. You couldn't stop writhing in pain, despite that you controlled yourself, but your teeth and jaw were clenched, and you had tears in your eyes.

She scooped up all the cum on your abdomen with her right hand, the one that was cupping and rubbing your tip, and she poured it all over your cock again, going back to the same process. It wasn't long until you gave her your second load.

This time you could only scream and grunt, you didn't see what was happening, your eyes were squeezed shut and your head thrown back in the chair due to the drainage, you only knew that this time your cum hadn't landed on your abdomen, and that Tiffany finally slowed down, when you opened your eyes and straightened your head, you found that the woman's face was painted white, filled with your fluids. She had a big proud smile on her face. Both you and her were in a mess, and there was cum everywhere, on her face, on her hands, on your abdomen, on your cock, and some on the floor.

"You're such a good boy. The best I've ever had, by far," the smile faded, but it didn't go away for a moment as she wiped you clean, wherever there was cum (except on the floor), Tiffany used her tongue to take it all into her mouth, soon you were clean, a little sticky, but clean, "I'll give you your well-deserved rest."

Tiffany got up and stood behind you, soon you heard a <<click>>, and your hands were free. You sighed, and moved your wrists in circles to warm them up again, they ached, so you winced.

"Were they too tight? I'm sorry, I don't really care honey," she patted your cheek with a gesture of false sympathy, "don't get used to it anyway. Stand up and lie down on the bed."

You obeyed like a well-trained dog, despite the fact that your legs at first didn’t give in to support the entire weight of your body, you managed to stand up and stagger to the bed, you got into it, and lay down in the middle, your head resting on a soft pillow. Your gaze locked on the ceiling for a moment as you psyched yourself up for the long run ahead, but you were distracted by the addition of a new weight to the bed. Tiffany had climbed on the bed, she was kneeling next to you, now without panties.

"You're going to eat my fucking pussy, your pathetic face will serve as my chair for a little while," she said, taking both of your hands and clasping them on your abdomen, then put the handcuffs on again, this time they felt more loose, but still painful.

She turned around and climbed onto your chest, her cute little ass perched right in front of your face, your eyes locked on her wet pussy as she moved closer to your mouth, who soon was sunk between her cheeks, giving you the first contact with her soft folds, which you began to lick slowly.

Tiffany sighed, enchanted by the delicacy and skill with which you began to eat her pussy, for you it was like a starter, you knew that soon she wouldn't be satisfied with just that. The moment wasn’t long in coming, your hostess fixed her thighs on each side of your head, in a firm constriction that forced you to raise the level; your tongue began to move much faster, exploring every corner of her slit as if your life depended on it (and it did), she ground her ass against your face slowly at first, with sensual little moans, but as you used everything you knew to satisfy her, she began to mount your face as if it were a mechanical bull.

Her hands rested on the upper part of your abdomen, clinging to it with her nails while she used your mouth at will. It was a complete torture not being able to touch her in any possible way with your hands, you wanted to feel her trembling thighs, or squeeze her nice tight ass, or even massage her modest perky tits, but this was all you could get, so you were making sure to give your best.

You focused on her clit, attacking it with frantic licks with the tip of your tongue and long licks between its folds; she removed her hands from your abdomen to put them behind her and wrap her fingers in your hair to pull it; she pressed her pussy even more against your mouth, which ended up leaving you almost no air to breathe. She was choking you, and you were sure she didn't give a shit, so you made one last effort, eating her pussy like you haven't had meat in years. The loud cries of pleasure were the main indication that her orgasm was close, so you didn't falter for a second, not even due to the fact that you were beginning to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

Lucky for you, within seconds Tiffany exploded in your mouth, she flopped forward, one side of her face resting on your flaccid cock as her body jerked in short intervals from the spasms, her fluids staining your mouth and part of your jaw She had lifted her ass away from your face, so you were able to take a long breath of air, your chest going up and down quickly as you tried to catch your breath. You didn't know what "well deserved rest" meant to her, but damn, this time she almost killed you. Again, you were paralyzed, your gaze lost at the ceiling; you knew it wouldn't end there.

You don't know how much time passed when Tiffany had fully recovered, she got off your chest, and then turned to you with a fucking sensual look that made you shudder. Her hand moved to your cock, which she firmly grasped and began to rub up and down, slowly bringing it back to life.

"You know what? I feel merciful today," she said, leaning into your cock to take it into her mouth, she gave you a very brief slow suck, just enough to make your shaft rock hard again, when she did, she broke away from your cock to remove the handcuffs and throw them to the ground, "touch me, how you want, where you want, and when you want, but all other rules still apply, is that clear, little toy?"

"Yes mommy, of course," you agreed, a small hint of a smile on your face.

She straddle your abdomen again, her thighs pressing hard on either side of your torso; she flopped forward, her hair covering the sides of your face as she smashed her lips against yours, you hesitated a bit to make the first contact due to the irrational fear you had, but finally your arms wrapped around your hostess’s skinny body, your hands feeling her creamy skin for the first time all night. You let her have control over her kiss, to dominate you at her whim despite the freedom she had just given you, that didn't matter to you, the truth was that you were enjoying it.

You held her tightly against you, not wanting to waste a single second of the closeness between your bodies; a short time passed when her ass claimed all your attention, and as if by magnetic attraction, your hands squeezed both of her cheeks with force, Tiffany released a mixture of moan and growl against your mouth.

"Spank mommy hard, you fucking trash, come on," she ordered through her teeth, then kissed you again.

Again, you hesitated, but she seemed to be really serious about her demands, so you simply did as you were told, raising your right hand and letting it drop suddenly against her buttock, the spank resound throughout the room.

Tiffany, again, growled in the middle of the kiss, and put her tongue inside your mouth to add to the aggressive dance, in response, you raised your other hand and gave her a hard spank on her other buttock, and then another one in which you'd already slapped, your hostess pulled away from the kiss and screamed, clutching at your hair with her fingers and pulling it in a way that hurt, but you couldn't complain, you couldn't and you didn't have to.

"Listen to me, you piece of shit, I'm going to ride you so hard I'm going to break you in half," she warned, still pulling your head back, and you didn't know if you should be excited or terrified about it.

She let go of your hair and put a hand between your bodies, it came down to meet your hard cock, which she rubbed a few times before lining it up with her slit; there was no foreplay or anticipation of any kind, Tiffany simply lowered her hips little by little, impaling herself on your flesh. Her folds engulfed your shaft slowly, taking you inch by inch into her stupidly tight pussy. A long moan escaped from your mouth just like Tiffany's, and with another couple of inches, your cock was completely buried inside her.

"Holy fucking shit," Tiffany gasped with her eyes closed and her eyebrows raised in pleasure, "this dick is amazing, fucking amazing."

Her eyes snapped open, to see you with an expression that froze your body, she really was going to destroy you. Her hand went to your neck as she straightened up a little, and for the first time in your life, you were being choked. It was a strange sensation, you didn't know if that was the hardest she could squeeze, but your breathing was already quite obstructed, what made you really enjoy it was the movement of her hips up and down, fucking herself with every inch of your throbbing flesh.

She was slow at first, but as she got used to your thickness she began to move faster, which came with an increased grip on your neck, now she was squeezing hard, almost as hard as her pussy walls on your cock. You couldn't moan, you couldn't even make a sound, but your eyes and your expressions let her know that you were really enjoying it like a son of a bitch, which you didn't expect from yourself, but the truth is that if you had to experience that for the first time, would have to be with a woman like this, so intimidating, strong and impetuous that deep down she drove you crazy.

Your gazes never left each other, she watched you as she continually moaned in pleasure, her crimson red lips in an O shape as she quickly jumped on your cock.

"You like how mommy rides that filthy fucking cock? Huh?" she teased you, to slap you hard with her free hand, then she released your neck so you could respond. You breathed for a moment before answering.

"Fuck yes mommy," you only managed to say, your cheek red hot from the slap she had just given you, but that response only earned you another, on the other cheek.

"I didn't fucking hear you!" she yelled at you, riding you harder.

"Yes mommy! I love how you use my cock as your filthy fucking toy!" you yelled back, almost snarling.

That seemed to turn Tiffany on even more, as she planted her feet on the mattress on either side of your torso to begin slamming her ass against your pelvis aggressively, so hard that she took your breath away a bit with each crash. She choked you again, but this time with both hands, and squeezing hard, your breathing almost completely obstructed. She was keeping her promise, you really felt like she was going to break you in half with the force and speed with which she jumped against your cock.

"Give me a fucking load, come on, come on!" she demanded of you with the imperativeness of a soldier, and the truth was that you weren’t far from your orgasm. No sooner said than done, your orgasm came within seconds, and she loosened your throat a bit so you could moan as you shot your load inside her, but Tiffany didn't stop.

You started to scream and writhe in pain, but Tiffany subdued you by pressing your neck hard against the bed. You couldn't take it anymore, you were going to collapse at any moment, the pain was unbearable, but for some reason you found some pleasure in it.

"One more, baby, just one more, you can do it," she growled through her teeth, then grinned devilishly and moaned aloud. Your cum spilled out from inside her and ran free all over your shaft, serving as a perfect natural lubricant to make her pussy feel even better. You didn't know what was going to happen first, but you were starting to get dizzy once more; everything was too much for you, the obstruction of your breath, the violent crashes against your pelvis, and the overstimulation. A few seconds passed when you cum again, your body contorting violently, forcing you to hold on to Tiffany's wrists. Your hostess screamed at the ceiling as she felt a new load inside her pussy, which brought her to an orgasm almost as violent as yours. Both of your bodies shaked in spasms; Tiffany released your neck and smashed her face into your chest, but it was too late.

Your vision went black.

—------------------------------

10:48 PM

Your head hurt, that was the first thing you noticed when you woke up, the second thing was that you felt like a truck had run over you twice. Your eyes widened weakly as you stretched out on the incredibly soft mattress, making you remember where you were.

"God, you're finally awake," a female voice said to your right, "I was starting to think I'd put you in a coma."

You turned your head to see where the voice came from, you found the beautiful face of your hostess already softened; she no longer seemed to want to insult you by the mere fact of sighing, she seemed more concerned about you. Just as a precaution, you didn't speak, you just put your hands on the mattress to sit up with a lot of effort; your whole body ached, especially your thighs and pelvis.

"Are you okay? Wasn't I too harsh?" Tiffany also sat next to you, and cupped the side of your face with one hand, "You can talk freely now, honey."

You frowned, and you saw her somewhat confused, was she really the same person? You remembered the most intimidating woman you'd ever met, even scared you, now she just looked like a worried mom.

"Hmm, ignoring the fact that I feel like I got beat up in an alley, yeah, I'm fine," you arched your back to stretch it as well, "and to answer your second question well..." you looked down at your thighs, both wounded by their nails, just like your chest.

"God, I'm so sorry, I don't know myself when I'm horny," she gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, one you never thought you'd receive from a person like the one you met a few minutes ago, "I'll pay you extra to cover the damages , I'm sorry."

You were silent for a moment, staring at nothing, you definitely never thought you'd meet such a beautiful and sexy bipolar woman, and you didn't know how to feel about it.

"Well, at least I hope I gave you a good service," you swung your legs off the bed and sat on the edge, then tried to get up, but failed on the first try, "fuck."

"Oh yes, you can be sure I'll recommend you, you have an amazing cock, and you know how to play," she got off the bed and stood in front of you, still naked, "let me help you," she offered you both hands for you to get up.

"Thank you very much, I appreciate it, but I don't think I'll be available until the day after tomorrow, unless I want my dick to explode," you took both of her hands and stood up, your legs wobbly.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" she asked concerned, looking up to meet your eyes, "I only made you cum... 4 times."

"Doesn't seem like enough? Damn," you walked slowly towards your pile of clothes, only to find your boxer and put it on.

"Well, you're right, but in my defense, I've never tasted cock this good," she shrugged.

"I'm flattered, ma'am, but could you please tell me how long I was asleep?"

"Huh..." she paused to think about it, "almost two hours."

"WHAT?!" you yelled, balls in your throat, "oh shit," you put your hand to your forehead, "we're ready here, aren't we?"

"Sure, I'll go out to deposit the money in your account," she approached you and put her hands on your neck, "you did amazing today, little toy, I hope I can still count on you," she gave you a little kiss on the lips, before walking out and leaving you alone in the room.”

You didn't know if that nickname was going to bring you traumas or some kind of kinky shit, but the truth was that you had a chill down your spine when she said it.

You got dressed as fast as you could, checked that you had all your things (your phone and wallet), and walked outside with the weight of 90 souls on your back. Tiffany was already in the doorway, a black towel wrapped around her body.

"It's done, check the amount when you have a moment," she opened the door for you, "Take care, okay? If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact me," she handed you a piece of paper with what you assumed was her number.

"God, you really confuse me," was all your brain could process for you to say, "Good night, Miss Young, I won’t forget it," you gave her a little bow, and then walked out.

—------------------------------

11:24 PM

When you entered your apartment, the first thing you did was take off your shoes and leave them at the entrance; the lights were mostly off, so you took it upon yourself to turn on only the necessary ones so you wouldn't trip over everything while walking to the kitchen. You opened the fridge, only to take out a can of beer, uncover it and take a sip, then just sat on one of the bar stools, admiring the night views of the city in complete silence.

A few minutes passed until you finished your beer, left it in the trash, and headed to the bedroom, where you found Jeon Heejin buried up to her neck in sheets. The room was only illuminated by the light from the TV screen, she was watching anime.

"Honey! You're just in time," she pulled the sheets up to her belly to hold out her arms for you, an excited smile on her face, she was wearing one of your hoodies. Her smile rubbed off on you, so that's how it felt to be loved, huh?

You just walked weakly towards her after closing the door, climbed on the bed, got under the covers, and went straight into her arms, your face buried in her neck, she smelled delicious, like a new soap whose smell you couldn't decipher. Her embrace felt warm, like you were home and had absolutely nothing else to worry about.

"How was everything?" she asked innocently.

"She fucking destroyed me," you replied, your voice low and your eyes closed.

"Oh no, she really pegged you," her voice sounded worried, but you were sure she wanted to tease you.

"She. Didn't. Fucking. Pegged me," you clarified, "She just… god."

"How many times?"

"Four," you said, knowing what she meant.

"Jesus Christ! That woman is a danger to society," she put her hand on the back of your neck, as if she wanted to protect you.

"I really felt like she was going to kill me, in fact, I passed out," you sighed, lifting your face from her neck so you could see her, "don't laugh at me, please."

Heejin was already ready to laugh, but she held it back just because you asked her to.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry," she gave you a peck on the forehead.

"Please tell me you didn't watch My Neighbor Totoro without me."

"Nope, you know I couldn't, I was just watching an anime I had pending," she looked at the screen for a moment, then at you, "do you want to watch it now? And cuddle with me all night?"

"Please, that's all I need."

—------------------------------

SPREN NOTES:

Well, it's not like I have a lot to say here, but thanks so much for reading! It took me a lot longer than I expected to write this, but I was very uninspired at a certain point, but I was able to pull it off, and here it is! Starboy will continue, very soon ;)

Don’t forget to support me on ko-fi if you want! https://ko-fi.com/lustspren.

#smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #fanfic #smut fanfic #tiffany young smut #tiffany smut #snsd smut #male reader smut #male reader insert #x male reader

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monsterrae1 · 8 months

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The last time (I won't hurt you anymore)

8.4k | Explicit | Read on AO3

Written for the @911angstinautumn fest!

Summary:

Eddie waited until he was sure that Chris was out of view before turning to Buck, wrapping his arms around him and leaning up for a kiss. Instead of a smile and a kiss, like Eddie had expected, Buck tensed up and looked away from Eddie. Eddie frowned and let go, taking a step back and trying to tell himself that it was okay. “Something wrong?” He asked, and Buck shook his head. “Last night, Eddie, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, I was a mess, you said something nice to me, and I shouldn’t have kissed you, or…” Eddie swallowed down his broken heart, “It’s okay Buck, I wanted it, I did” I still do, he wanted to say but he was sure that Buck would run away. “But I understand, if you don’t… if it’s not what you want”

* Or, Eddie's in love with Buck and somehow finds himself in a weird friends with benefits arrangement with him, every time Eddie tells himself this is the last time they're doing this, but he can't deny himself having the man he loves, even if its just for a few hours.

#my fics #buddie #buddie fic

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kisskissbanggang · 2 days

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The Score

[8.4k Words/30min. Read - Music Teacher!Seungmin x Guidance Counselor!Reader - Slow Burn/NSFW/Smut - Divorced Seungmin, Divorced Reader, Snowstorms, Pining, Growing Tension, Hurt, Processing Feelings, Guess Who Your Ex Is, New Years Kisses, Damning Polaroids, Anonymous Flowers, Office Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex]

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As far as you were concerned, this was a nightmare. It was March. This was the single worst snowstorm Plains County had seen in decades, and winter had officially “ended” a week ago. And that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was the fact that this veritable blizzard wasn't where this nightmare began.

Normally, at the news of adverse weather, you might've accepted some extra time off and tried to relax. Then again, you hadn't been able to relax for weeks now. You were restless, your thoughts thoroughly preoccupied, and now you were being forced to sit with them.

Mostly, this gave you a chance to stay pissed off.

Maybe get even more pissed.

Seungmin knew the score. He’d known for the past two and a half years that you’d been working under the same roof. And, in all fairness, you knew, too.

You thought you were alone on campus where you worked in Plains County High School. There were no other cars or trucks in the snowed-over parking lot when you braved the uncharacteristically severe weather and came to pick up your laptop so you could get some work done in your lonely, empty house. Maybe distract yourself.

It was hard to appear in good spirits when you still missed Chris every day, but you knew you missed him being your husband. You missed him being your partner. You missed him being your friend. It was hard to get over everything when you were suddenly so alone, even though the spark vanished ages ago.

There were no regrets, however, about the long, tiring talks that eventually resulted in your empty home. Your cold, cavernous house meant that he didn’t just take his clothes, gear, and his car, but his bitterness, his resentment, and his pettiness, too. You didn’t miss the way his lip twisted into a snarl when fighting got exhausting, the way you would lash out at each other like wounded animals, over and over again until you both simply gave up. No more arguments, no more sleeping in the guest room.

Just nothing. Nothing left but what you both had decided you should keep. Which left you with the cold, empty house.

The only regret was how much it hurt.

And you weren’t the only one who knew how much it hurt.

Seungmin knew, too.

Neither of you could predict how much your paths would cross since you both arrived at Plains County High School almost three years ago. Teachers hardly ever bet on running into guidance counselors much, let alone the music director, but as fate and staffing would have it, you both needed an outlet. Your students craved a creative outlet, just like Seungmin’s band class. Somehow, him starting an after-school jam session and you starting a drama club would satisfy both your students’ needs, but destroy both your marriages.

No, that wasn’t fair. That was hyperbole.

But… was it, really?

As far as you were concerned, Seungmin earned his third strike not too long ago and you’d refused to be in the same room with you since then. If you’d known he was on campus today, risking a venture out into the snow just like you were, you would’ve been prepared to throw the heaviest object you could grab the moment you saw him. If you’d have known, you wouldn’t even have come out here.

Maybe Seungmin’s house felt as empty as yours. Maybe he missed Sharon like you missed Chris.

Maybe he would be just as put off to know you were in the building.

You sighed, looking out the window of your small office. Frost congregated in the corners of the glass panes. The view painted a grim picture of snow piled up onto each exterior surface outside. Snow days used to be fun when you were a kid. Today, you’d fumbled into the building, feeling blessed you brought your removable snowshoes. The snowshoes now sat in a slowly drying heap on the rug in your office. You had taken them off after you almost slipped in a puddle in the hall, the slick metal cleats not getting you any traction and doing you no favors when the weather had sprung a few leaks in the school’s aging roof. There’d be no way the maintenance crew would be able to clear any of this out until the main roads were safe to drive, let alone fix the roof. So, instead, you chose to pause and recuperate. Now you sat, taking a second of calm to simply admire the snow, not knowing that Seungmin was doing the same in the band room.

There was an omen before all of this, one that the two of you needed to heed but both of you ignored. This very well might have all started when you introduced yourselves to each other’s spouses at your first wrap party.

Two years ago. Just before spring break in your first year.

It was the first time you’d collaborated. The first production you both put on turned out to be Oklahoma! Truly, you were proving to admin that a drama club was a good idea, just like Seungmin was proving the same for his jam band, who’d rounded out your cast with a little coaxing and provided the music. You were stunned by how gorgeous and demure Sharon was. Her hand seemed tiny, even in your own when you gently shook it. Her teeth shined. Her skin glowed. You were impressed, to state it lightly. And Chris had sized up Seungmin immediately. He was the one who’d made the sacrifice, moving out here with you so you could be close to your uncle. With your late uncle gone, however, now he’d set up his studio in the basement and rarely came out. He’d been craving someone to talk about music with.

And even though you decided that night two years ago wasn’t strike one for Seungmin–because he obviously did nothing wrong–it was definitely strike two for Chris. Your first apocalyptic fight had occurred shortly after your uncle passed away and Chris tried to help by taking over planning all the arrangements.

No, your husband had waited three days after meeting him to blithely insinuate any inkling of jealousy about your colleague. He’d asked a simple question, nonchalant, as if it wasn’t instantly self-indicting. “So, when you and Seungmin hugged during the curtain call, was that the first time?” You couldn’t believe it. It was like he never considered the very real truth of the matter, that the hug was a spur of the moment occurrence that you’d been embarrassed about ever since.

The fight had been stupid. Chris well and truly showed his ass.

“Oh, yeah?” he’d blustered. “Why does he call you Ms. Bang, hm? Not Mrs. Bang?”

That took a solid five minutes to convince him that everyone called you Ms. Bang. Mrs. was an antiquated distinction, as far as school was concerned. As far as you were concerned, at least. Chris had walked it back and then proceeded to imply that referring to each other formally had to be suspicious. You balked at the mere thought. Seungmin called you Ms. Bang just like anyone else did. You called him Mr. Kim. It wasn’t as if you liked the way his name felt in your mouth. It was just professional.

Mr. Kim.

Ms. Bang.

Professional.

That night didn’t escalate into yelling, but it was the first time you refused to sleep in bed with him when it was all over. Chris had the gall to be offended when you briskly shut the door to the guest room and went right to sleep. He didn’t sleep in your shared bed either. In fact, he stormed downstairs and slept on the couch in his studio.

Looking back, that was only an omen. It wasn’t even Seungmin’s first strike. That still wouldn’t come until later. Next was a warning. An omen was one thing but you didn’t really begin to figure anything out until you were given some vague cosmic clue. What came next was simply a shining exit sign before the point of no return. It was during the back-to-school carnival.

Right before your second year. Months after the cast party.

You’d been dressed as a clown. The moment you had hinted that you might be able to do face painting if no one else could be found, no attempt was even made. So you were dressed as a clown, doing incredibly mediocre face paintings for a couple bucks each.

Seungmin didn’t make a big fuss over seeing you. He simply stood in line like everyone else, and then took a seat in the camping chair you’d set up across your own.

“Ms. Bang,” he’d greeted cordially. “Any ideas for the fall play?”

It was just business. He looked effortlessly handsome. Pressed flannel shirt tucked into his jeans. Clean boots.

Chris had recently taken to wearing only hoodies and sweats. If you were lucky, you’d see him without a beanie or ball cap on.

“Mr. Kim! Sure I do,” you’d responded, “but you need to pick a design for me to paint. How was your summer?”

“Do I have to? And my summer was boring, thanks for asking. Yours?”

“Also boring. And yes, you have to. This is a face painting booth, not a talk-about-the-fall-play booth. You like my outfit?”

It was obviously a crack. You were dressed as a clown. But Seungmin had paused, almost like he was thoughtfully considering before answering.

“Yeah. I do.”

He had that eternal, easy smile.

It wasn’t eager, it wasn’t flippant. It was precise and measured. You had scrutinized this simple interaction for weeks. Why did he say it like that? Why did he look at you like that?! Did he look at you in any way other than normally?! This told you all you needed to know: being obsessed with it meant you cared, and you didn’t have time nor the desire to care. You proceeded to let go of the whole thing and move on.

Then came Seungmin’s true strike one. This was never rushed. You were both simply inching towards each other until you collided.

It was December of your second year. The fall play had ended up being Jersey Boys. Seungmin and you had hugged during the curtain call again, but this time you and Chris didn’t fight about it. This time, though, Seungmin had also gotten you flowers, appearing in your mail cubby in the front office the next week. It wasn’t a big deal. It was simply a bouquet from his small garden you knew he tended in his front lawn. You’d repaid him with a small jar vase of daisies. That wasn’t strike one, though, because it clearly wasn’t that big of a deal.

Chris used to get you flowers all the time.

The note from Seungmin’s bouquet sat in your desk drawer.

Strike one finally, ultimately arrived with one of the many traditions observed by the Plains County High faculty: Secret Santa. Meredith, the Principal’s secretary, ran it like a military operation. As luck would have it, you drew Minho when presented with the ceremonial jar of names, your friend who taught the business class for seniors. You’d painted a picture of his cats on a mug, stuck googly eyes on, paired it with a bottle of his favorite wine, and called it a day. For you, however, you opened your office one day to discover… a rug.

This was a long time coming. Even after almost a year and a half of occupying your office, you’d never gotten around to getting a rug, even after you slipped one rainy morning and almost broke your wrist, not long after that damn wrap party at the start of it all. You’d been foolish enough to believe he was annoyed when you cheekily showed off your wrist brace during a faculty meeting. Seungmin had gotten you a rug, and it was even cute. A sweet shade of blue, nicely complementing your knick-knacks and decor.

The color also matched his truck. And the small cooler he brought his lunch in. And his favorite flannel shirt. And his travel mug, perpetually full of coffee.

A piece of the puzzle had tried sliding into place then. The way that Seungmin had refused to let you carry anything or open anything or even hold anything while you were wearing the stupid wrist brace around him. The way that Seungmin asked you how you were doing every time he saw you. The way you found out that Seungmin’s summer before your second year had been so boring because Sharon had taken to spending all her time in the sunroom, just like yours had been boring because Chris spent the whole summer break on a work trip in Los Angeles. It was your first taste of loneliness.

This was ridiculous, obviously. Seungmin didn’t have any feelings for you; he merely saw that you could use a rug in your office and got you one. You were to take none of this seriously, because none of it was serious. It was a hug, it was a compliment, it was a vase of flowers… and a rug. None of this mattered. You and Seungmin were clearly only good and professional work friends. He was nice to you like he was nice to everyone. It was just a rug.

You managed to go a whole year without any other hiccups. It didn’t even occur to you that Seungmin had committed a formal first strike, it was so relatively minor. Everything was fine.

Especially when you and Chris kicked off your third year at Plains County High by deciding to finally get the divorce.

It was hard to admit you were both miserable. Chris had been miserable since he moved with you to Plains County. Maybe you’d both been miserable since your late uncle called you in the first place and you insisted that the best thing to do would be to drop everything and move.

The smile plastered on your face had been bulletproof from that point forward. You were determined to not make it apparent that you were barely holding it all together. No, you didn’t dare let anyone realize, and you were so busy keeping up appearances that you never even noticed Seungmin was equally on edge.

Chris moved out shortly before Thanksgiving break.

You didn’t understand just how terribly you both were doing until you got the weirdest report in your office, not long before winter break. It’d felt like you were simply floating through time, but this snapped you out of it like a spell being broken.

“Mr. Kim yelled at Patty Gimble the other day–”

One student on your caseload. Marsha Crawford. She’d mentioned it so casually.

“What?!”

“It’s nothing, Ms. Bang!”

You didn’t have it in you to change your name yet, not with your students. Half of them never even realized you were married to begin with. It’d be too complicated; they had far better things to be distracted by.

“It’s not nothing, Marsha. Why did Mr. Kim yell at Patty Gimble?”

“She probably hasn’t been practicing. She’s still missing her cues during marching practice and we have the Christmas parade next week. It’s not even like he really yelled.”

“So he didn’t yell at Patty?”

“He–I dunno–he raised his voice at her, I guess.”

You’d steamed about the report for the rest of the week but weren’t sure what to do. The girl your student had referenced wasn’t on your caseload, and you weren’t her teacher. You were in no position to badger Seungmin, either. He had to know as much as anyone that word blew up and traveled at lightning speeds in Plains County High. Regardless, you didn’t confront him. It didn’t feel right. Instead, you called Patty Gimble into your office one day. The whole interaction was awkward. You didn’t know each other. The girl, like many of Seungmin’s students, thought the world of him. She felt she deserved the reminder to focus, even if it was harsh.

“You’re friends with Mr. Kim, right, Ms. Bang?” she’d asked you. “Can you talk to him? He’s seemed so off all year.”

Secret Santa and the staff Christmas party came and went. Minho must have pulled some strings to draw your name this year. He gave you a miniature doghouse, like one for a doll set, and with a gift card to the boutique you told him you missed back home. The doghouse had “for the next one” painted in curly script on it. You knew he meant for whatever rebound you’d pick up eventually, and you knew he meant well, but you didn’t feel ready to joke about it yet. Chris had never been “in the doghouse.” You both fucked up your relationship, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to say.

Winter break and Christmas was weird, to say the least. Minho had to go out of town to visit family. Loved ones offered to fly you out, but it simply wouldn’t happen for you. You weren’t ready.

For anything.

The house felt deathly empty, despite it feeling like you and Chris were ghosts haunting each other for months leading up to it. He’d brought you flowers the day he left with his moving truck. The vase sat, nasty, dead flowers and all, on the windowsill in the kitchen where you first placed it.

You didn’t necessarily want to be at school for New Year’s, but Meredith and the other ladies in the front office badgered you. It took every bone in your body to not dismiss the request as strictly being out of pity. People cared, pity or not.

The kids didn’t know how lonely a majority of the staff in Plains County High were. All the myriad traditions didn’t spark solely from community and goodwill. It was easy to feel isolated, especially during the cold months, left with nothing to do but housework. It would’ve helped to know that New Year’s would be the sight of strike two, though. Maybe if you had known, you would’ve decided to be lonely at home.

As was customary, the little get-together had taken place in the cafetorium. You’d attempted to peek through the large picture windows on the side of the building from your office across the courtyard, but it was difficult to see with the shades drawn. The large, opaque shades had actually come at your insistence. Because this also became the makeshift theater space, being able to darken the large room had become a necessity. You truly only had yourself to blame for not being able to properly gauge how many people had shown up. Judging by the parking lot, it was more than you were expecting but still fewer than last year’s crowd. You didn’t go to the party last year, though. Anything you knew about the previous party was caught through passing conversation and driving past the parking lot that night the year before. Instead of the party, you and Chris had driven to the next town over to go line-dancing. It was one of the last really good dates you would have together, good enough to make you doubt going through with the divorce. But it happened anyway.

No, during this quiet and windy New Year’s Eve, there had been a good amount of merriment when you entered the combination cafeteria/auditorium. This was more intimidating than you’d predicted. Minho wasn’t here, and every year, Seungmin and Sharon flew out for winter break to see her family back home, so you didn’t even have the chance to forgive him for strike one and buddy up for the night. Changbin was showing off pictures of his newest piglets the 4-H were raising. Wendy, the resilient school nurse, was commiserating with Lia from admin on yearly vaccine regulations. Felix, the sweet new secretary in the front office, was running around and making sure everyone had a drink. Meanwhile, Lily, Changbin’s new athletics secretary, was already curled up asleep on a chair where everyone could supervise her, face flushed down to her neck and hugging a bottle of champagne. Someone had draped one of the newly redesigned letterman jackets that were being lovingly boasted about over the girl as a blanket. And that was just who wasn’t out on the dancefloor. Throngs of faculty and staff were dancing and playing, more foolish than their students with the added lack of inhibition. Thanks to the disorienting feeling of being alone, it was easy to forget how relatively big the school was.

You had craned to see if you could find anyone you were close to when you were suddenly blinded by a camera flash following a click. Spots in your eyes, you’d stumbled back a step amidst a shocked laugh.

“Oh god, Ms. Bang, I’m so sorry–” your attacker had wheezed.

Rubbing the static out of your vision, you’d found yourself face to face with Seungmin. Your surprise was apparent, too, from the way he’d seemed to be caught off guard.

“Mr. Kim!” you’d blurted at him. “You’re here!”

Seungmin almost blushed. “It seems that way, yeah. I’ve been voluntold to man the photo booth.”

“Is anyone even using it?” you’d laughed, finally taking note of the quaint tinsel backdrop that Hyunjin had pulled out of his classroom’s storage.

“Not at all,” he chuckled. He tugged your candid picture out of the instant camera and wagged it at you.

You took the photo, absently continuing to shake it. “I thought you were out of town,” you’d told him. “What are you doing here?”

This question was, apparently, deceptively simple. Seungmin met you with a pause and a sigh. Whatever the reason, he felt reserved about telling you. The reaction was enough that you found yourself wincing. “Want a drink?” you’d offered.

What you had ended up with was squirreling away two glasses of champagne along with a slice of cake and retreating to Seungmin’s band room, behind the stage in the cafetorium, down the hall and around the corner from your office by the library. This was great real estate, honestly. The band room had its own set of risers with seats and stands, a couple practice booths installed behind those, and exits to the hallway, stage, and even the football field for marching practice. Foregoing the seats, you’d settled down to sit on the first level of risers, and you found yourself not so much shaking the picture to develop it, but fanning yourself once you adjusted to the temperature of the building and the champagne first reached your brain. Seungmin caught you unaware again and cheekily snapped another photo of you, this time sitting on the risers with your champagne and cake. It was almost a good picture, truth be told. Now you were fanning yourself with both photos.

Seungmin opened up almost immediately. You’d had harder times getting students to talk. It appeared that he needed this.

As it turned out, Sharon moved out, too, but while you and Chris made careful plans together, Seungmin’s ex apparently found it easier to do it all on her own. He came home one day to discover the house half-empty. This–obviously, now–was the day before the alarming news that Seungmin had yelled at Patty Gimble during marching practice.

“Sounds like the whole thing was hell,” you’d offered.

Seungmin looked pensive as he took another bite of cake. “The weird thing,” he’d thought out loud, “was that it wasn’t hell, Ms. Bang. Not for a big part of it. We fought, yeah, but it was never hell.”

You were almost jealous. Everything between you and Chris in the past year or so felt like hell.

Both of your glasses were empty by the time both of you had aired out both your divorces. For how much you talked and laughed and worked together, neither of your partners had ever come up. This was all new. You had leaned forward to pluck the fork out of Seungmin’s hand so you could sneak another bite of cake when the music dulled outside. The countdown began.

10…

9…

8…

Your first New Years without Chris.

7…

6…

Your first New Years alone in a long time.

5…

4…

But you weren’t alone.

3…

Remember?

2…

You were with Seungmin.

1…

“Happy New Year!” came as a collective shout from the party outside.

But in the band room, something happened.

In recollection, you weren’t sure how it started, but you remembered suddenly erupting in anger that Seungmin had kissed you at midnight on New Years. It’d been sweet. It’d been soft. It’d been methodical, a brief second of peace. And you’d been infuriated. You’d shoved your hand into his chest, pushing him back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing–?!”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, that was so monumentally stupid–”

“What the fuck, Seungmin?!”

“I said I’m sorry!”

You were both standing up now, shouting back and forth.

Embarrassing.

Exhausting.

“Look, Mr. Kim” you growled, “I get you’re lonely and this is hard–”

“It’s not that! Are you kidding me?!” Seungmin had interrupted. “Have you ever stopped to consider–”

“Would you shut up?!” you barked back. “Let me be pissed. I’ll let you know when I get over it. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

With one small glass of champagne in your system, you took the meager risk to drive home in a rage.

And that was only strike two.

Strike three wasn’t damn near as dramatic, but it still fucking sucked.

Obviously, people were talking. Not because you and Seungmin were missing from the New Years party. No, it had to be a student that would blab. In all your wisdom, you’d dropped the stupid photos Seungmin took of you when you left the band room in a huff. If it had only been the first photo, that could’ve been refuted, but the second photo? That single shred of indistinct evidence, no matter how much Seungmin calmly denied it, was enough to start this miserable little rumor amongst the entire student body that spread like a virus on the first day back from winter break. By day two, there was already an email stating that faculty parties would no longer take place on campus.

And it still got worse. Weeks later, without talking to him whatsoever and flat-out avoiding him when you could, you made a sickening discovery upon opening your office door one day.

A bouquet of flowers. A box of chocolates. And whose name was on the note in the arrangement?

Did you even have to wonder? And on Valentine’s Day?

You waited until the kids had cleared out for the day to stalk into the band room after school. Seungmin had the gall to look shocked when you tossed the bouquet and chocolates back at him before storming back out. Brash, yes, but you were seething. How dare Seungmin do this to you when you were still recovering? You were still coping with the very idea of being alone, which in and of itself was mired in complex feelings you were never ready for. All you’d felt for the last few years with Chris was alone but having him gone suddenly made it all real. After he moved out, you felt raw for an entire month and then just when you were feeling better, Seungmin had to go and fuck it all up. And now he was giving you flowers?

That was weeks ago. You’d all but given up on pursuing a spring play. If you were lucky, you’d muster the energy to let your students write and direct some one-acts for a showcase. Now, with all the events of the past years behind you, from the moment you moved to Plains County to this very day, all you felt was confused. You weren’t hurt, or bitter, or even angry anymore.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe you were still a little pissed. The note from Seungmin’s bouquet was sitting on your desk. It’d fallen out of the flowers when you went to return them to Seungmin, and you never got the nerve to throw it away. So now it sat, silently nagging you like Chris’ dead flowers were back at home. You grabbed your laptop and shoved it into your bag, giving up on relaxing and ready to go sit in your silent, empty home while the snow continued to pile up outside. This way, maybe you could even get over everything. You peeled your snowshoes off of the rug Seungmin had gotten you, the ice crystals having stuck them to the plush surface, and gingerly dropped those in your bag next. It was a better idea to put them on when you made it to the building’s entrance by the front office, that way you wouldn’t slip and crack your head open, but you also wouldn’t scratch the linoleum floors. By now, you were beginning to feel a little calmer as you made your way out of your office and down the hall, down past the cafetorium. You felt better, despite making eye contact with Seungmin’s nameplate on the door to the band room. Yeah. You felt better.

Except–

Except why would Seungmin do this to you? Wasn’t he still getting over his divorce? Wasn’t he still getting over Sharon?! She was perfect! He told you they’d also been together for years, so wouldn’t that mean he was also taking this just as badly as you were? This wasn’t fair. You were just getting used to feeling alone and now all that progress was nuked because Seungmin couldn’t handle his shit.

It wasn’t until you noticed you were storming down the hall–near where you’d almost slipped when you arrived–that your feet were already flying out from under you.

You landed on your ass more than your back, but it still hurt. The fall humbled you for a moment, and you stayed like this, staring at the old ceiling of the school. That is, until you heard rushing footsteps approaching. You craned your neck to see and, sure enough, there was Seungmin, his boots squeaking on the wet floor as he rushed over.

“Ms. Bang! Are you alright?!” he panicked, grabbing and checking your wrist before you could stop him.

You sat up and yanked your arm back. “Mr. Kim, I’m fine. Just don’t touch me; I haven't forgiven you yet.”

“So, what, it’d be okay to help you if you forgave me for New Years?!”

Your mouth hung agape, flabbergasted. “We’re beyond New Years, Mr. Kim!” you all but shouted, scrambling up to your feet, your boots squeaking on the worn floor. “Don’t you think I’m more worried about when I’m going to forgive you for Valentine’s Day?!”

Seungmin scoffed, simultaneously annoyed and amused. “That’s what this is about?” he tiredly asked.

“Yes,” you huffed, taking a step back when Seungmin stood up beside you. “It is. I have a right to be mad about it.”

“I didn’t send those flowers, Ms. Bang,” he patiently explained. “I didn’t send any of it.”

“Right,” you sarcastically nodded, “then who did?”

“It wasn’t me,” he shrugged helplessly.

You crossed your arms, staunch. “Fine. I hate that you’re making me prove how I know.”

Seungmin was confused when you turned heel to stomp back to your office. He followed, cautiously intrigued as you threw open the door and blustered over the rug he bought you and over to your desk. You snatched the card from the Valentine’s bouquet before tugging open your desk drawer to grab the old card from the last time Seungmin gave you flowers. Full of triumphant spite, you thrust the two cards in his face. Seungmin, however, only raised an eyebrow at you.

You pulled the cards back in front of your own eyes.

The two little notes, as much as you hated to admit, had wholly distinct handwriting from each other.

“I…” you trailed off, such a meager non-attempt at forming a coherent thought. “I don’t understand.”

“My zero period marching band won’t shut up about the polaroids,” Seungmin told you. “The jam band won’t either. And neither will my competition quintet–and I guess it’s really all of them. They’re obsessed.”

You gestured with the cards in either hand, confused. “So you’re saying…?”

He hung his head, exasperated. “I think one or two people tried to capitalize on the latest drama and sent you some flowers.”

The desk squeaked when you leaned back against it, defeated. You let out a scoff. “Of course,” you relented.

Why did you feel weird?

“What’s wrong?” Seungmin asked.

You were wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, trying to process this. “I should be relieved it wasn’t you, but–”

“Oh my god,” sighed Seungmin, “don’t tell me you’re disappointed.”

“I…” you babbled out, the starts and stops of syllables betraying how torn you were over everything. “What if I am?”

“I don’t believe this!” Seungmin laughed, light and fragile. He frustratedly stepped towards your office door, ready to leave. “I fuck up royally and you’re understandably pissed at me, but then it looks like I did something that’s possibly even worse and now you want me?!”

“Maybe I always did, Seungmin!” you easily fired back, getting a jump out of him. You were out of practice since Chris moved out, but you still had it in you. “Maybe I’ve wanted you like some idiot for years now!” You were stuck in a little, miserable dance, with you and Seungmin both moving to get him out of your office and then changing your minds, over and over.

“Ridiculous!” he rebuked. “This is ridiculous. This is the wrong time, for me and especially you, Ms. Bang–”

“Wrong for me?! You don’t get to decide that!”

Seungmin stared, agog and challenging you. “Well? Is that an incorrect assessment?”

You flustered for a moment, still searching for words.

But that was too late, it seemed. A heavy silence shaded the corners of the heat building inside you, making you sensitive to the cold air coming off the frosted windows of your office.

“Now’s not the right time,” Seungmin reluctantly emphasized, and reached for the door. You reached for his hand, but that may have been the wrong move, considering Seungmin returned again, as if to say something else, and tripped on the damn rug on your office floor. You clumsily tried to catch him, and only resulted in sending you both tumbling to the ground.

Seungmin propped himself up on the heels of his palms and blinked down at you where you lay under him on the cold, damp floor. You gazed back in return, trying to conjure any fleeting words. It seemed he wasn’t as concerned this time if you hurt yourself.

“Fine. Maybe it’s not the right time,” you finally told him. Your voice was barely louder than a murmur, concentrating on not letting yourself waver. “I think I’m just upset you weren’t the one who bought me flowers.”

Both your eyes remained fixed on each other, piled up together on that damned rug in your office.

“If I’d known you’d feel that way,” Seungmin managed to tell you, his words carefully metered, “I would’ve brought you nicer ones.”

This time, you were well aware it was you who initiated the kiss, gently reaching up and pulling on the canvas collar of Seungmin’s heavy work coat so he’d come down to meet you. The motion was swift and it was mutual, Seungmin taking the opportunity to slide his hand under your back to coax you off the floor a little. You caught your breath for a moment before kissing him again and again, over and over.

“So, what now? Is it still not the right time?” you asked, trying to find a measured breath in your tight chest.

Seungmin shook his head. “Not remotely.” Still, he didn’t stop kissing you.

It was apparent you both felt raw. Maybe a bit vulnerable and disoriented with the gnawing sensation of you both knowing he was right. This wasn’t the right time–for either of you–but it felt so cathartic to have someone hold you and feel wanted.

Chris may have still wanted you, even as you watched him drive away to leave Plains County, but your relationship wasn’t viable anymore; the rot had crept from the roots to the leaves. That truth took months and years to accept but it was almost freeing to say it now. You still loved Chris, which made your absence of want for each other hurt even more.

Meanwhile, all that want that you were starved for was making you dizzy, the way that Seungmin groaned into your mouth leading you to believe he felt similarly. But did he want more?

He was the one to say it wasn’t the right time. Maybe this was all he’d give you.

Maybe you simply had to ask.

But, then again, maybe you were too keyed up to ask. Too much tension. Too much adrenaline. You had to demand.

“More,” you sighed against his lips.

Seungmin nodded in absent compliance, all the while still kissing you as slid back to kneel over you. It didn’t seem advisable to remove too much clothing given the setting and temperature, but he at least worked your jeans open, his hands thankfully warm. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips from years of playing guitar.

“How long has it been?” he asked you, even as he shimmied your jeans and panties down just enough to dip his chin below your waist and lower.

What a morbid question.

“I think it’s been a year for me,” he continued, muffled by your thighs, almost as if to reassure you the question was solely meant for the purpose of commiserating. “Probably more.”

A sharp, high-pitched gasp escaped you before you could even answer, Seungmin’s tongue shutting you up for a moment before your brain could function again. Thinking backwards to a year ago, that would’ve been around the time of Secret Santa, the one where Seungmin got you the rug you were currently squirming on.

“Maybe five months?” you answered, breathless. Five months, but maybe a year for you as well since Chris last did what Seungmin was currently and happily helping himself to.

The calluses from rough guitar strings on Seungmin’s fingertips felt similarly but wholly different from the ones on Chris’.

Now was not the time, but all you could think of was that first time Chris was jealous. He’d grumbled something under his breath.

“A teacher, fine, whatever, but did it have to be a music teacher?”

You’d thought it was so stupid at the time.

Meanwhile, that same music teacher groaned deep as he lapped at you, maybe from finally tasting you. Or maybe he was a bit jealous, too.

This was gross, you realized. It was gross, unprofessional and reprehensible to be fucking the music teacher in your office.

Even though Seungmin wasn’t just the music teacher, or even the band teacher. He was your friend. He was your colleague. You loved collaborating with him on all your shared projects. You loved the way he treated you, no matter if it was frank or cagey. It was clear you’d both spent the years leading up to this being painfully professional with each other.

Besides, it’s not like anyone was around. It was just you and Seungmin, moaning and sighing against each other.

“This is so fucking bad,” Seungmin groaned into you.

It was.

“Come on,” you urged, “more.” You were almost outrageously transparent. It wasn’t only Seungmin, or affection that you needed. What you needed was more, or everything he’d give you, and Seungmin seemed ready to do just that. It felt shamefully clear that you were refusing to let your judgment catch up to you. Pushing himself back up to his knees in between your legs, Seungmin reached a hand towards your own so he could help you sit up. The wedding rings you were both still insisting on wearing knocked against each other, a tiny metallic sound you couldn’t help but register when he pulled you close enough to kiss again. He then reclined back on the damp rug in your office, clumsily lifting his hips under you and working his belt with one hand so he could help you pull your jeans and soaked panties the rest of the way down, at least to your ankles so you could sit on his lap better. Any lingering concerns of optics or guilt stalled for a moment when you actually got a look at what you were about to accept. Seungmin looked up at you, stars and forlorn longing in his eyes, his yearning hands squeezing your hips and his pronounced hardness forming a beguiling outline in his jeans. This was the man you’d been squashing down passing thoughts of for years now, available and pleading for you.

The first time Seungmin slid into you, you both gasped. Every miniscule bump and ridge on his length was almost obscenely felt entering you. Your back arched, and Seungmin flexed in on himself like a punch to the gut. That hesitation of wanting to savor this, the fear of not being able to catch this fleeting pleasure, it burned through both of you as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. Seungmin felt incredible inside of you. As you began to rock your hips together, a shiver lit up your spine with the culmination of the most forbidden thoughts you’d denied for the longest time.

“Oh, fuck,” Seungmin sighed, “Ms. Bang…”

You didn’t realize you’d had your eyes closed until they snapped open at Seungmin referring to you with Chris’ name while his cock was inside you. That was too much, this was too much. Seungmin’s eyes were also closed, but they opened as well when you half-fell, half-pushed off of him. His strong hands pleadingly caught you, the worry clear in his eyes when he sat up with you in his lap. He brushed your hair out of your eyes and softly held your face.

“Oh, baby,” he fretted, “what’s wrong? Can you tell me? Are you okay?”

The way he said baby drew your gaze back to him. Wildly enough, even though Chris also called you baby, it didn’t feel bad to hear Seungmin say it. But you could feel your eyes shaking, him using your married name shook you so badly in that moment.

You took a second to calm yourself, and the best part was that Seungmin let you. He hung on every breath you took to regain equilibrium. “Every time you call me Ms. Bang,” you finally began, “anytime that anyone calls me Ms. Bang, I see his face. Or I remember something stupidly small. I think of him every fucking time.”

“Does that upset you?” he asked. For a moment, you were afraid he was being flippant or sarcastic, but you could tell from his expression that he meant it as neutrally as he possibly could. He really wanted to know. The only thing stopping you was your refusal to talk about it.

You sighed deep. “Not exactly upset,” you shook your head with your admission, “it just makes me sad.”

“I understand,” he soothed, stroking his hand across your back. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Do you want to stop?”

“No,” you stubbornly repeated. Seungmin, on the cusp of protest, ate whatever words he had in mind when you laced your fingers in his hair and kissed him again. His tongue was almost sweet in your mouth. Only a moment later, though, he eased you back from him.

“What do you want, then?”

Your breath quickened in your chest, only half a beat. Between your legs, Seungmin was still hard, almost persistently so.

“I want to hear you call me baby again,” you answered, before stubbornly kissing him once more. This time, Seungmin fully complied, and you both savored the gentle squeeze and slide of him thrusting back inside you. Your back arched your chest down into his own, and this seemed to angle your hips in a way that made Seungmin clutch onto you, his fingertips gripping into your hips.

“Fuck, baby,” Seungmin whined into your skin, “I’m way closer than I thought, goddamn–”

You couldn’t say you were surprised. He did say it’d been a year. Besides, a more horrifying thought intruded in your mind: what would happen after you were done fooling around? See each other in the hallways in school like nothing ever happened? Worse yet, was Seungmin expecting you to get together?

“... Baby?” Seungmin repeated.

Oh fuck, he’d said something while you were ejected out of the moment, for the second time now. In fact, you’d stopped riding him altogether, much to his relief.

“Wait, what?” you asked, failing at not sounding bewildered.

Thankfully, Seungmin panted out a laugh. “I asked if you were close at all; we can take a break if you’re not.”

The only thing was, though, was that you had a pretty good idea by now that Seungmin would damn near do whatever you wanted. How long had you had him wrapped around your finger? Instead of answering him right away, you simply rolled your hips on his a little more. A hushed gasp hitched in Seungmin’s throat, his eyes rolling back a little when you continued the languid, sustained rhythm. You grabbed his hand, your fingers tracing the veins ridging the backside of his palm, and led him to feel you where your hips met. The pad of his thumb caressed around your clit in a circle before he started rubbing you in earnest.

“I’ll be pretty close here in a second,” you assured him, breathless. “Take a second and get me there. That’s your break. Is that okay?”

Seungmin’s exhausted, determined grin met yours and something in the back of your mind fell loose, like letting down your ponytail at the end of a long day. Maybe you were worrying too much. Maybe this was something you could simply enjoy.

Maybe it didn’t even have to be only the sex that you were enjoying. Maybe you could enjoy you and Seungmin wanting each other, too.

Lying under you on the floor, Seungmin kept massaging you closer and closer to a climax, and this was making your own riding pace increase, your hips working up and down his length while you continually held onto each other, cursing and panting and groaning. Every single voice in your head finally shut up for a minute as you climbed higher, and all that was left was the active give and take of pleasure, the catharsis of being able to work out not just all the tension growing between the two of you for years, but all the frustration and heartache you’d been dragging yourself through for even longer. And you wondered, for how much Seungmin seemed looser, more relaxed, if he was experiencing something similar or if this was simply a side of him you hadn’t had the privilege of seeing yet. On a regular basis, Seungmin was playful, he was frank while being polite, but he always seemed like he was holding back or refusing to say his whole thought. Right now, however, it felt like you had all of him.

Seungmin’s eyes suddenly scrunched shut, and you could feel his hips begin to falter under yours. “Mmm god, baby, I can’t–you’re gonna make me–”

It’s like he knew, his timing was so perfect. You nodded in return, pitifully whining out your answer as you bounced on his lap. “Me too, don’t stop–”

He didn’t. You both kept it up through to the end. Sparks combusted inside you where you weren’t used to experiencing sensation anymore, and your muscles tensed despite the force of your release spreading from your spine out to your fingertips. Seungmin must’ve felt similarly, given you caught him whining through his own orgasm, his groans losing their bass as the pace of his thrusts finally gave out.

You suddenly realized you were freezing, despite being drenched in sweat. Seungmin caught his breath under you, melting into the cold, damp rug, and you collapsed next to him in a bid to retrieve your jeans from around your ankles. He sat up beside you.

“Fuck, I love you–” he laughed under his breath while he tried to work his zipper back up, until his eyes snapped wider with the horror of what he said. “Jesus, shit, I mean I loved that–”

“It’s fine, Seungmin,” you reassured him, and put a hand on his chin to keep you both steady when you kissed him. You liked the feel of stubble on his jawline. “I loved that, too.”

“What now?” he asked. Why did this feel like a game of russian roulette now? It was like eggshells erupted under you and now you were both treading carefully.

But Seungmin knew the score.

And so did you.

You placed your hand on his. In a second, you’d have to get up before your clothes became damp from the rug on the floor of your office. Judging by the denim of Seungmin’s jeans, he was already suffering that fate.

“You must be freezing,” you concluded as you gingerly got up to your feet. Seungmin intrepidly waited for what came next. “My house is pretty cold,” you continued, “but I’m sure we can keep warm until the storm passes. Besides, I wouldn't want you to drive alone in this weather.”

Seungmin cracked a pleased grin and eagerly took your hand to help him up when you offered it. He seemingly matched how bashful you felt in this moment, but that was the best you’d felt in weeks, maybe months. You shouldered your work bag but felt a tug, and looked to see Seungmin shuffling the bag off your shoulder so he could carry it for you. For a moment, you were about to protest, but you tempered yourself down. This was sweet. This was nice. Everything before now felt like they’d had their rough edges sanded off. Seungmin and you had history, sure. The two of you were colleagues, and then you slowly became friends, and now…

Now, the two of you were something else entirely. It was true, you both knew the score, but maybe it was time to reset the board.

#neverendingdreams #straykidsland #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #skz smut #i've been so creatively blocked for months and it feels so incredibly good to finally finish this and share this with you all 💕#haha you have a crush on kim seungmin 😔

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truthseeker-blogger · 1 year

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theterrorreversebang · 1 year

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Presenting, for your viewing and reading pleasure: the final collection of the first-ever Terror Reverse Bang, a feast of gorgeous artwork, beautiful fic, friendship, laughter, tears, ...some horny. OK, a lot of horny.

You can find the AO3 collection for the event here. Summaries and links to the artwork below the cut. Thank you all for going on this fantastic journey with us. Eat well and enjoy. - ❤️, Charlie and Vio

a most noble and enjoyable pursuit (T, multiple ships, 10.6k) artwork and concept by shloodles fic by vfrankenstein

Cornelius Hickey discovers something in the orlop deck that nobody was ever meant to find. Poetry, stupidity, and romance ensues.

anamnesis (M, fitzier, 42k) artwork and concept by camecrawlingback - art 2 fic by crownlessliestheking

The only things the commander leaves behind are these: A scrap of paper with writing that is not his own, and proudly monogrammed boots, now caked in verdurous filth. Both items will be pored over, and over. The boots, encased and displayed as a memorial to Franklin's expedition, in the time where they were yet named and not merely numbered. And the paper will be picked up and encased in glass to be read but never touched, the ink determined to be not ink at all, the words never fading though grief and greed blinds readers to its warning: WE ARE GONE.

and it is now, and it is here (M, fitzier, 30k) artwork and concept by oughtnots - draft fic by 20thcenturyvole

Before the ships are trapped in the ice, James Fitzjames sees a terrible vision of the future, a harbinger of his own death. Before the ships are trapped in the ice, Francis Crozier is visited by a tender apparition, an angel wearing James Fitzjames' face. They are both seeing the same vision. Whether they can heed its warning is another matter entirely.

antipode (T, fitzier, 8.4k) artwork by asparklethatisblue fic by themainthings concept by drfronkensteeen

An antipode of any place is the point on the earth's surface diametrically opposite it. North. Then. James Fitzjames prepares for a walk. South. Now. Francis Crozier witnesses a glacier.

anything you can do (jopson does better) (T, joplittle, 15.5k) artwork and concept by necromcom fic by bastaerd

“There were only a handful of men in attendance– these lessons are often sparsely attended, as you know, but those who do attend come with the intent to improve upon not only their artistic skills but their powers of observation. Today there were… let me see.” Irving looked up at the ceiling and his mouth moved mutely as he recounted to himself the day’s class roster. “Hartnell, Peglar, Armitage, Gibson, Strong, and one other, I believe. Ah. Manson. A class of six.” Little nodded. “Was it one of them?” he asked. “No, no. They applied themselves to their work. It was only that- well, part of the way through the lesson Mr. Jopson arrived.” (or, Jopson's billion talents and the one thing he's dogshit at.)

beyond belief (T, multiple ships, 16.5k) artwork and concept by zdrzemka fic by Jellyfax

In the summer of 1845 'The Royal Society for Improving Natural and Unnatural Knowledge' at Somerset House in London posted a request for teams of Unnaturalists to uncover the nature of a beast spotted in the Highlands, terrorising the ironworkers on the North shore of Loch Camock. Funded by coal magnate Meyrick Holme, a reward of £500 was offered for proof of its existence, and £1000 was offered for the capture and delivery of the creature to the Royal Society. Two teams of monster hunters at the forefront of British Unnatural interests took up the gauntlet, and the hunt was to become a race against time and each other. But this is not really that story, but rather all the stories that lead up to it, and all the Monsters (Natural or Unnatural) found along the way. alternative title: "What if the Grandpa from Princess Bride was reading 'The Cryptid Factor: 1845' instead (but there was still kissing and melodrama and animals of unusual size hiding out in forests)"

blind tiger (M, bridglar, 24.5k) artwork and concept by neptuniite - art 2 fic by shortcrust

It is late in the winter of 1926 in Norfolk, Virginia. John Bridgens is a mediocre agent for the Bureau of Prohibition, and Harry Peglar is an excellent bootlegger.

bones in the ocean (T, fitzconte, 11.5k) artwork by vandrawsing fic by pointyshades concept by tullia

There were a few things James knew to be true: he had been dead, and now he was alive. Then there were the things of which he was not certain: were there others afflicted by his condition?

cliffgate (T, goodgore, 18.3k) artwork and concept by agatadraws fic by whalersandsailors

At the end of the long war with France, Graham Gore takes a holiday to Scotland in search of a place to find peace and to bury his past. But something is off in Cliffgate and her rolling hills: a secret as old as the earth, rivers, and trees. And local doctor Harry D.S. Goodsir seems embroiled in the middle of it all.

don't let them scare you; they are only my dreams (M, edward little & silna's father, 7.9k) artwork and concept by astralwhat fic by camecrawlingback

Edward Little has a nice dream. He also has some weird ones.

dreams of doom (M, multiple ships, 8.8k) artwork and concept by midnightmagpies fic by bilgewater01

When the haunted schooner Octavius sails into Crozier's dreams—and then into view of the stricken men on Erebus and Terror—the captain's suspicions, paranoid yet not without reason, turn towards Mr. Hickey. And then Crozier's men begin to die, murdered by the entity that only Hickey truly understands, and Hickey is not there to see their destruction.

francis and the frog prince (E, fitzier, 19.2k) artwork and concept by vandrawsing fic by sadsparties

James the frog has always wanted to be a prince. He wishes more than anything to have long legs and fancy hair, and horses to ride and clothes to wear. His dreams come true with the aid of a witch, but James soon learns that being a prince is more complicated than it seems. And what do you mean he must find his true love?

free o'er the bright blue sea (E, joplittle, 10.3k) artwork and concept by mitarashi8 fic by orchidae

Tom Jopson needed to make good money as fast as possible, that’s why he became Head Waiter on the Terre d’or, Franklin Ross cruise lines' brand new Mediterranean cruise ship, Captained by Francis Crozier. He figured a ship full of people would keep him focused and busy enough, too bad he keeps randomly bumping into First Officer Edward Little who is so damn distracting.

friday, i'm in love (E, joplittle, 52k) artwork and concept by mitarashi8 fic by manicpixiedreamjop

Mr. Little,Thank you so much for reaching out. While we are incredibly busy here at Mrs. Jopson’s Cleaning Services for the next few weeks (everyone’s excited about spring cleaning, what can you do!), I would be happy to get you on our schedule as early as the second week of April. When Edward’s therapist recommends he hire a cleaning company to help mitigate some of the guilt and anxiety that comes from his flat getting messy when he’s busy or depressed, he expects the "Mrs. Jopson" that he hires to be a sweet, middle-aged woman. He certainly does not expect the young, beautiful man who shows up in his flat, makes Edward's notoriously antisocial cat fall in love with him instantly, and makes Edward feel things he hasn't felt in years.

gods of fear and darkness (M, fitzier, 11.9k) artwork and concept by asparklethatisblue - art 2 fic by shakespeares_girl

After an unwanted arranged marriage to the King of the Underworld, James begins to show signs of a mysterious illness that only grows worse as time goes on. As James explores his new home and begins to grow close to his husband, Francis, and make friends in his new realm, James finds that he enjoys his new life and isn't ready to give it up. But with no cure and his symptoms growing worse first daily, then hourly, James doesn't have much time to unravel the mystery of his illness, or how it may connect to a long-buried trauma from his past ....

leave the light on (M, fitzier, 19.1k) artwork and concept by pretendingday fic by cajunroe

“Rumor has it, you found him eating bones on a beach. Keeping it up?” Francis nearly smiles but remembers just who he’s talking to in time. “You would be surprised how little the rumors of my life mean to me, Fitzjames.” He sets his haul on the table and seeks about putting everything in its place. “Oh, I do not think there’s anything about you that does not surprise me, Francis.”

long after the thrill of living is gone (M, multiple ships, 14k) artwork and concept by sixpounderss - art 2 fic by dimmockdock

Billy Gibson's main goal for his junior year of high school: survive. With the Toms by his side, that shouldn't be hard. But when a mysterious new kid shows up and draws Billy's eye, things start the change.

maths, marksmanship, & manly bonding (T, irving/tozer) artwork and concept by entangled_system

no better shoulder (T, silna & silna's father, 12k) artwork and concept by 20thcenturyvole fic by orchis

When the strangers whose ships are stuck in the ice wound her father, Silna has no choice but to accept their help until her dad heals or she can convince the men to leave. Unfortunately, they don't seem willing to listen to her. As tensions rise among the crew and Tuunbaq continues to lurk out on the ice, the danger grows for everyone involved. A Silna's dad lives AU.

nothing fades like the light (M, thomas hartnell, 8.5k) artwork and concept by silvermagpies fic by scarecrowfan

In January of 1846, Tom buries his brother on Beechey Island, but a part of Johnny seems to linger with him, a constant presence in his thoughts. Two years later, scurvy and lead poisoning have spread among the sailors. As they all struggle to survive their march from the ships, Tom's sense of time deteriorates and the edges of his memories blur. Is his brother's spirit truly with him, or is the failing of his body merely taking its toll? A Thomas Hartnell character study.

sacred and terrible divinity (M, fitzier, 28,9k) artwork and concept by 20thcenturyvole fic by midna_ronoa

The Empress of the Nine Houses in all her kindly glory summons eight necromancers and their cavaliers to take part in what will be the trial of their lifetimes: acquiring immortality. Soon after their arrival Francis Crozier, Head Archivist and Speaker of the Death of the Fifth, will have to decide where his allies and enemies lie in a game, that even if innocent at first, holds many more stakes for the known universe that one may have thought at first.

silent lands (T, silna & goodsir, 8.2k) artwork and concept by pileofsith fic by moonwalkingcrab

As Silna wanders across the land, tugged forwards by a mysterious presence, she contemplates the future and her place in it, if any.

the frozen shore (M, multiple characters, 17.5k) artwork and concept by pileofsith fic by acephalous

It's hungry and it wants to live (a 'The Thing' AU).

the gentleman soldier (E, hickeytozer, 8.6k) artwork and concept by malcifer fic by rhubarb_crumbl

Solomon finds Hickey to be a distraction from the darkness closing in around them, and realises that Hickey might need something to focus his mind on too.

the hidden paw (T, fitzier, 10.5k) artwork and concept by asparklethatisblue - art 2 fic by fadladinida

Francis heard a small mew and looked down to see a cat waiting expectantly on the doorstep. “Mew,” said the cat, apparently affirmatively, as it- he- trotted up the step and straight into Francis’ flat. Francis' fledgling friendship with his former office nemesis is put into doubt after a disastrous dinner date, but when a mysterious cat turns up at Francis' door, it quickly becomes apparent that both their relationship and the strange cat are not entirely as they seem.

the miracle; or, un unlikely series of states in a mechanical universe (E, goodsir/multiple, 7.5k) artwork and concept by bilgewater01 link to the fic

During congress with his mistress Lady Silence, Assistant Surgeon Goodsir discovers that his Membrum Virile, applied rectally, is a Panacea for any and all ailment and disease, as the woman grows back her tongue. He vigorously confirms this finding with Seaman Morfin, who is greatly troubled by his headaches; then is granted permission to perform his miraculous cures on all men in need.

this time tomorrow (M, bridglar, 19k) artwork and concept by silvermagpies fic by poorly_animated

John Bridgens meets Henry Peglar one evening when he nearly runs him over on his bike ride home. Henry doesn't particularly mind being almost run over by a handsome professor, so they walk together, and make plans to keep meeting. When John mentions Henry to his officemate, though, they discover something strange. Henry Peglar is dead.

unsportsmanlike conduct (T, fitzier, 10.8k) artwork and concept by pretendingday fic by othersideofthis (hikaru)

The Greenhithe Terrors are the worst team in the EIHL, and their last-ditch attempt to save their season involves trading for one James Fitzjames. It's too bad that the league's golden boy also doesn't seem to know that there's no "I" in team.

vanished hands and voices still (M, fitzier, 9.5k) artwork and concept by e-merald-terror fic by hangingfire

Or, The Convalescence of James Fitzjames In another timeline, two dozen of Sir John Franklin's men returned from the Arctic. In this timeline, James Fitzjames didn't die. But his great gilded life has collapsed in the wake of the disastrous expedition. Haunted by his failures and the deaths of his men, harrowed by the trauma he has suffered, he takes refuge with his foster-brother's family in Brighton.

your turn (T, hickey/irving, 21k) artwork and concept by pileofsith fic by hypallepse

When John Irving was steeling himself for another dreadful weekend in the Swiss Alps, he only thought he'd have to deal with integrating George's new boyfriend into their strange group. Nothing could have prepared him to have the same new boyfriend's ex-boyfriend crashing the party and turning his whole life around. When Cornelius Hickey decided to crash Billy's new fake life so he could get his boyfriend back, he never expected he'd have to learn how to ski or, even worse, care about another self-centred prat.

15 Recipes Arctic Explorers Can't Live Without (M, joplittle, 6.1k) artwork and concept by entangled_system fic by krewka

In the spring of 1850 Thomas and Edward convalesce in the English countryside. Recovery, relationships, and retirement create an unsavoury mix, made all the worse since no one really knows how to taco 'bout it.

#the terror #the terror amc #amc the terror #the terror reverse bang #the terror reverse bang 2023 #the terror reverse bang 2023 masterpost

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blucassiopeia · 10 months

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Almost - 1

"A prelude spin-off for an upcoming fic"

warnings: afab!reader, NSFW 18+ content MDNI, mentions of heavy drinking and getting drunk, drunken fluff, drunk foreplay inc. dry humping, oral fem!receiving, cheating(?), pining, angst, comfort (?), stupidly complicated, surprising and agitating

part 1 - 8.4k words ; part 2 - 6.7k words

A Miya Osamu x reader ft Miya Atsumu one shot, is this one shot?

a/n: y'all can cuss me on this piece LMAO, more clues, read between the lines and you might pick up more clues

Blaring beats, an ocean of alcohol and drunk people, intoxicating smell, annoying big feet of people not being kind on your own, flirty gestures, incessant stranger grindings, travelling hands.

Ugh.

"Drink."

You shouted at your friend's ear and you didn't wait for her to respond. She's busy with someone else, you doubted she heard you. You rolled your eyes as you made your way to the bar counter, dodging people along the way.

You were with five friends when you got here, and now, the only friend you're with is dancing and grinding with someone else, leaving you to yourself. You wanted to go home. Why did you even give this bar hopping a chance? You still have reports to finish. You kinda regret having an apartment so close to the nightlife alleys of Osaka.

"Y/n, it's going to be fun, come on!"

"Don't be a KJ. Let's goooo~"

"Unwind, Y/n. Go out there and flirt!"

And the last one just offered you a laugh because she knows you're giving in all the same.

You pursed your lips as the bar counter comes to view. You ran a hand on your bare face and fixed your topー

ーthen you saw that hair you'll recognize anywhere.

Done with this part? Go to part 2.

You stuttered in your steps, the other alcohol creatures blurring, eyesight focused on his hair and built, the expanse of his back. Your breath quickened and your feet turned to the door's direction, heartbeats louder than the bar's music.

"'Samuuuu~ that 'ya?"

Fucking shit.

Out of the door., Y/n.

"'am with friendsss, 'ya know them~"

Fuck. Fuck!

FASTER!

"Oh! One's there! Y/n~"

I'm gonna kill her later., you thought as you turned around. The last thing you wanted to happen is him getting suspicious about you avoiding him and his fucking Miya ego.

Your lip twitched at your friend who's giggling now, making distance from the man, giving you space in between. You unconsciously cleared your throat before settling down, fiddling your fingers as you waited for somethingーanything. Until your friend groaned at your side.

"Two stiffs!" She laughed and wobbled out of her high chair. One hand combing her hair back, she flashed a lopsided smile, can't even see straight. "Alright, 'am gonna dance~ 'Samuu~ keep her company, 'yea?"

Furrowing your brows, you looked over your shoulder as your eyes followed her, not even waiting for Miya Osamu to respond. You let out a shaky laugh as you faced the counter again, the bartender eyeing you from the other end if you might want him to whip you a drink.

"What are 'ya drinkin'?" Really, Y/n? Is that your first line of conversation after so many years?

"Sum'thin' ta get me drunk?" Of course.

You smiled awkwardly at the bartender as he makes his way to your direction, "Can 'ya give me more of his drink?"

"ThーThat's notー" You didn't miss the fast flicker of the bartender's eyes to Osamu for a moment. "That's not a ladies' drink, miss? And it's a mix just e-exclusive for S-sir Osamu?"

You raised a brow at that stuttering from the bartender. "So you're a regular here? And why can't I drink tha' mix? I'm a grown up now. We're both 19."

Osamu scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. Your eyes reveled at the drinking side-profile of this disgustingly attractive man, his adam's apple bobbing as he gulped down his sip. You saw how his tongue peeked through his lips to lick the smeared mix, you sucked a breath and closed your eyes momentarily as you saw him in Osamu.

"Give 'er 2 of this, Rami. She's a grown up, she says."

"Thought 'ya were stayin' in Miyagi?"

You started a futile topic as you waited for your drink. But futile? Your brows shot up when he side-eyed you while tipping his shot glass to his lips, you nearly smirked. He's still the same old Osamu 2 years ago. Everything about her invites him in.

"Will be stayin' here in Osaka ferーdon'noーtwo weeks? Three?" His fingers ran up and down his shot glass as he stared at it. "Might go see 'Tsumu an' stay with 'im within that period."

You hummed as the bartender, Rami, slid a shot glass of Osamu's mix. "So how was Miyagi?"

"S'okay."

The shot glass was cold to your touch as your fingers ran round the brim. Your eyes were fixed on the red mix inside it, ripples to the edges, as the questionーor more like a rhetoric question or maybe a declarationーsat at the edge of your tongue. And you smiled, chuckled.

"Yer still in love with her."

And without missing a heartbeat, an "I do.", came out from Osamu's lips, and that sealed it.

But how did it came to this?

You can feel his big, calloused hand in yours. It feels light, so as your steps, feels like your skipping on cotton ground and his hand in yours keeps you stable. But no. He suddenly twirled you by his side and your already swirling world spinned a bit more your weight crashed to his still solid posture, a hand on his chest. And Osamu chuckled, and you broke a laugh with him. And both of you will never know how ridiculous the stares you were both getting from passerbys.

His breath whiffs through your face, his forehead leant against yours. In your drunk state, you smiled at how close his face were, his gray locks flickering to blond time again and you were mesmerized.

"I'm hungry." His voice so deep it reached your core and you tapped his shoulder, receiving his message.

The next thing your mind registered was him holding your waist against him, your arms around his neck as you both swayed to a slow music on what seem to you as an aisle of a convenience storeーor is it a pharmacy?

"Yer a hopeless romantic." You heard yourself slurred against his hold, your fingers unconsciously tugged on his golden locks as he kissed the side of your head. "Can't know why she still hasn't fallen fer 'ya."

"'am an asshole tha' don' deserved ta be loved."

And you chuckled snuggling to his shoulder for comfort through your swirling surroundings.

Then your consciousness teleported you to your apartment, with someone kissing you and groaning, licking your tongue, his smell so addicting even over the alcohol and he stopped all at once at the sight of your eyes, pulling back.

"Ya smell like alcohol." He slurred, scoffed as he slumped hard at your genkan and untied the straps of your sandals. "Yer heart's gon' burst, hm, Aki-nii-san will kill me."

And you whimpered as he kissed the part of your thigh where your short shorts end. You felt his head buried against both your thighs, hugging it while sniffing. It took a while for you to realize he was crying, it shattered your heart a little so you card hisーwhy is his hair shifting from blond to grayーfuck, alcohol.

"'Am sorry. Shouldn't have left ya that day. Should'a calmed down. Should'a waited fer ya to say sum'thin'. 'Am s' sorry. Please c'me back ta me. Please don' choose 'im. Please. Please choose me 'gain. 'Am beggin' ya."

He suddenly sprang from his feet after ranting those words and crashed his lips against yours vigorously and carried you to God knows where. Your head is spinning and you can't understand what's he sayingーfuck, you could feel his hard-on grazing against your cunt over your shorts at his every step, it made you feral.

You feel him grinding back, pushing you to the fluffy surface on your back. You realized you're already in your bed, clothes off with just your underwear left, hooded eyes clouded with lust pinned on you. He's also naked with just his boxers and you moaned as his pace went faster, your jaw slacked at the pleasure he's giving your body.

"Fuck~ s' good~"

He dipped to your neck and sucked your skin, throaty groans from him tickled your ear straight down between your thighs, gushing juices leaking.

"S' wet fer me. Shall eat ya now, huh?"

You felt your mind slurred and it's trying to focus but the alcohol in your system drags it all over the place, drowned at the pleasure he's giving you, then you felt it. A wet muscle in your slit, licking your clit and sucking that made you moan and hands flying to his hair, tugging it closer. You felt that wet muscle licking your entrance and you gasped as he licked inside and up to your clit again, arching your back at the pleasure. And you don't know but everything just focused on him in a snap, him getting rid of his boxers and taking out his wide girth, your eyes raked from his abs to his face, to his eyes and your eyes widen.

And something snapped in Osamu too as he stared at your wide eyes, the trance of that lethal mix quickly evaporating from his body momentarily. His eyes travelled down to your heaving chest, erect nipples, his hand on your abdomen, pressing, and to your leaking cunt and his own hard meat rod.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His panicked gray eyes flew back to yours, "I'm sorry."

He quickly scrambled away from you, searching for your underwear to wear it back on you, picking his boxers to wear it back too. "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

He was quick to change back to his clothes, faster than your mind processing what was happening. When you came to be, all dressed again, he was already gone out of your apartment.

Fuck. What was that?

And Osamu thought about that question too as he made way to the nearby bus stop, padding on his pockets for his phone. His hand was shaking as he dialed through the screen and held it out on his ear, gulping and breath all ragged.

"Where are ya 'Samu? Rami said 'ya already wen' out hours ago all wasted!"

"'Tsumu. Can I sleep beside ya?"

"Haaah?! Waz gott'n inta ya? Drunk bad?"

"Ask him where he is."

But Osamu's emotions went flooding already, long cherished memories reeling back to his mind it made him sob so hard, making him sick and wanted to vomit. He did, and Atsumu heard it.

"Can you go around one more time, Kiyoomi?"

The seriousness of Atsumu's voice over the line, devoid of his usual accent, made Osamu sob hard again, muttering apologies Atsumu can't understand what it is for.

"So, what happened to you?"

With a groggy mind, Osamu blinked the drowsiness away and scanned his surroundings.

It's already morningーor afternoon? And not on his apartment.

He groaned as he heard multiple dings from his phone, resonating with the throbbing in his head. He padded about the mattress to find his phone, but instead he felt a hand on his left. He peeked on the floor and saw Atsumu, lying on a futon staring back at him.

"Can I sleep beside ya?"

Damn, he forgot they just have single beds here at their dorm. How drunk was he.

"'Samu?"

"Yer practice?"

Osamu heard ruffles of the futon as Atsumu sat up, face all irritated. "Yer more important! Ya just got back from Argentina yesterday 'n went straight drinking. What. Happened?"

"Nothing." At last, he got hold of his phone just beside his hip and unlocked it, seeing the topic of the GC. "Nothing happened."

Atsumu just stared at his exhausted twin and sighed. "MSBY's operations and events are transferred to Sendai. Just fer a year or two. Talked ta the management. They can't afford ta lose sum'one like 'im."

Osamu just nodded, mind all clouded with the picture he saw in the GC. "Does he know?"

"Not yet. He'll be happy nun'theless."

"'Tsumu, can ya not look at me with those eyes?"

"Waz jus' worried is all."

"'Am fine."

He's fine. He has to.

Osamu can feel drool seeping from a fabric across his chest. A sleeping feral creature was finally calm as they both napped in the couch. This feral creature wailed and wailed a while ago as her brother was taking a bath with her dad and she just calmed down as Osamu cradled her to his chest, humming her to sleep.

"She really likes you, 'Samu."

Osamu scoffed, his eyes not leaving little Hinata, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of her clothing. "No. She fell asleep because I hummed to her her dada's song."

Ran hummed as she propped her elbow at the back of her couch, gracing her eyes with the sight of her little girl with her bestfriend. Footsteps and grumbling and baby noises came near and her husband kissed her cheek out of nowhere, Takeshi flapping his knuckles on Ran's arm.

"'Samu, first day of classes today right? Take care of Ran and Hinata as usual, okay? Might pick you three up on the way home."

And as if on cue, Hinata squirmed and whined against Osamu's bare chest, waking up to her dad's voice. Osamu was already smiling, peeking on her as she blinked hard, maybe calibrating where she is and when she didn't see her father, she cried. Osamu quickly sat up, supporting her and facing her to her dad who was passing little Takeshi to Ran to hold Hinata.

Osamu passed her to him, placing the cloth she drooled over to his shoulder, and he yawned, poking to Takeshi's cheek who was watching him yawn, chocolate eyes staring. "No ladies for Dada, 'Keshi, okay? Or Mama's gonna sell you for not doing your work."

And Takeshi gripped Ran's collar and hid his face to her neck to which Osamu and her husband chuckled at the sight. Ran immediately cooed while glaring daggers at Osamu, of whom raised his hands on surrender as he walked to his room.

"Take care of 'Keshi."

"Take care of Ran, 'Samu."

Always.

"WHY DID YOU LEAVE HER!?"

"SHE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"SHE WASー"

He was saved by Ran's knocks, cold water gliding his back, a hand anchoring him to the tiled wall. He was breathing heavy as a memory came to him, he gulped hard. He never had this memory for a while. Maybeー

"'Samu, we're gonna be late." Osamu then went under the shower one last time. "And please, get a girlfriend already so you wont bother 'bating." And her high pitched laugh irritated the hell out of him. He picked his body wash and threw it against the bathroom door, which just intensified Ran's laugh, echoed by cute giggles from Hinata. Osamu groaned. He's gonna go crazy.

Hinata can't stop flapping her arms as she was strapped in Osamu's chest and facing front. Strangers stops and waves hi to the cute little golden pumpkin and be mesmerized by Osamu's shy smile as they head for the culinary class in this certain building in Osaka. Good thing they got permission for bringing babies, and good thing Hinata's a cool baby, as long as she can smell her dada's scentーthat's now became Osamu's perfume, too, and begrudgingly wearing one of his shirts that's a little off for himーand be entertained by her pacifier and new surroundings and strangers.

And Ran can't help grinning at the sight and murmured at his earshot, "You're really good with babies, you wanna go marry and have your own kids?"

Osamu didn't like that idea so he glared at Ran who chuckled and apologized immediately, attempted on relieving him of the baby bag but Osamu held on it tighter and flicked her forehead.

"Behave, or I'll snitch you on Aki-nii-san and Kei, or worse onー"

But Osamu chuckled as he saw Ran glaring back at him so he ruffled her golden hair and held her hand, dragging her to wherever the class will be held.

And you sucked your breath as you saw him again after a year and a half, through the glass partition, with a baby and a golden-haired lady following him. Ran.

Don't enter this room, please don't.

Time was slow but as if mocking you, they really did, with the baby squealing and flapping her arms at the new environment she's in, golden eyes scanning. Your eyes darted to Osamu's steel cold eyes that's already staring back at you, a look of recognition flashed across his face.

And someone hummed, your eyes darted to Ran peeking on you through Osamu's side and she's smiling at you, eyes flickering to you and him. Your breath was heavy as your eyes travelled back to the baby girl with golden baby hairs, and back to Osamu's eyes. How many seconds was frozen? Fuck.

"You know her, 'Samu?"

"No." And it was your turn to be frozen, breathing stopped, everything. "I don't."

"Uhuh?"

You suddenly felt a hand holding yours out for a handshake and you saw Ran beaming at you. "Hi, I'm Ran. This is Osamu, and my baby, Hinata."

You shook her cold hands while still staring at Osamu who has his brows now furrowed, jaw set. You introduced yourself to Ran awkwardly anyway. How could you not? She's warm and obviously oblivious of the tension. You might as well save her the trouble.

This was the first day of the cooking class you enrolled to to curb out the stress you have from studying Law. And here is another stress of its own destructive caliber. It was hard enough to move on from that night, but here he is again, reminding you again of his existence. And is that his baby? She looks a lot like her mom then.

Your hands were colder than the industrial kitchen top as the lecture went on but was warming as you unconsciously played with the baby sitting atop between you and Ran, Osamu on the other side. But the lecture passed by and you noticed the baby staring at you wide eyed, tears welling up, well it actually had fallen already to her chubby cheeks, and her lips quivering, and aww, not making a sound. It broke your heart as you wipe her tears away.

Ran noticed it and was about to reach for her baby but Osamu's reflexes kicked in. He nuzzled the baby's face against his neck quick, curbing an impending tantrum session as he softly hum a tune you didn't know. You suddenly felt guilty but Ran reassured you with a smile and urged you to listen back to the lecture.

"Still not time for milk, 'Samu. Diappy's still dry too."

"Her random naps."

Your face ghosted a slight smile at the conversation.

The whole session was all lecture for today, and the instructor promised you all that it will be a cooking session next, it lifted a bit of your mood. Much more when you stepped out of the building and you saw your boyfriend waiting with some of his teammates. You quickly checked your phone for his messages and smiled apologetically to him.

Oh no. I was that nervous that I didn't noticed him messaging me.

"'Tsumu?"

Your face paled, not that you didn't expect this butーYou closed your eyes to calm yourself.

"Ran! 'Nata!" A big man lugged past you towards Ran. "Surprise!"

"Hey! Baka! You left Takeshi!"

But your eyes and attention were focused on Atsumu, coming out of his car and walking towards you. You were gradually calming as he closed the distance, out for a hug and a kiss on your forehead.

"Aw, she's not single 'Samu. Andー"

"ーEXCUSE ME? MR MIYA ATSUMU?"

Atsumu groaned at your forehead and you rubbed his back, chuckling at his reaction. "Yer mom brain's acting up. Told ya last week I got back with her. And you were the firs' ta know. Even told ya before 'Samu!"

"Ya didn't~" You heard him mused as he passed the baby to the big man's arm waiting, with also a baby boy in his other arm.

Atsumu growled at Osamu and you patted his chest and smiled. "S'okay, I already know Ran and yer teammates."

You heard a huff, a familiar huff, "Let's go. It's almost milk time."

The others heeded and shuffled at Osamu's words and you felt rejected by Atsumu's own twin, but it wasn't unprecedented, given what had happened. You wonder if he remembers, but no, it didn't matter. It shouldn't.

A hand got yours and you saw Ran beaming at you. "You're staying at Atsumu's? Gonna catch up soonest, okay?" And it's comforting.

"No. You're gon' let her join yer cult! No way!" But Ran just smiled at Atsumu, menacingly at that, that made him shut up and whimpered down his throat, you nearly laughed.

"Plushie! Let's go!"

Ran waved her bye to you but rolled her eyes to Atsumu and Kiyoomi peeking from Atsumu's car's back seat. She skipped her steps to their own car, taking the baby boy in her arms.

"Don't let her join your cult, you'll just teach her how to curse us and make us suffer."

"Excuse me, plushie, but it's not a cult!"

And never once did Osamu bat an eye on you through that whole encounter.

"So Osamu already has kids?"

Kiyoomi was the first to react, snorting while scrolling through his phone. Atsumu was patient though, shaking his head while his eyes are on the road. "They're her husband's, 'f'cors."

"But Osamu?" Husband? She's already married? 18? 19?

Atsumu hummed. "When he married Ran, he also kinda married Osamu in some sense." He snickered, and his little reactions tugging your heartstrings through the gut-wrenching topic. "Marry one, take one."

Your gut twisted more at what he said and how he said it. "B-but, Osamu loves her, right? Does her husband know? Does she know?"

Atsumu glanced at you, the sunset haze flashing through the windows and his blonde locks, and smiled sadly. "Yes, he knows but she doesn't. But that matter is between Ran and Osamu so he can't interfere. And bokkun knows Osamu respects him and his marriage with Ran so there's nothin' to worry about, fer now."

"A hell of a complicated relationship, right?" You heard Kiyoomi commented as you settled the topic, eyes straight through the dash, to the bustling streets of Osaka.

A hell of a complicated relationship huh?

You hummed as you felt a soft, wet touch on your forehead. Your eyes fluttered open and instantly smiled to his beaming self.

"Leavin' already?" When the sleep finally unlatched from you, you sprang up from the bed, blanket sliding down your body revealing your bare chest, and your head hitting Atsumu in his jaws gaining an Ow. "Yer bento!"

"NoーOwーNo rushing." You bit your lip as you heard Atsumu whine while getting off bed and getting a shirt from his stack of clothes and him sitting at the edge of your shared bed. "Can ya bring me my bento later then?"

You stared lovingly at him as you slid onto his shirt. "Okay." He hummed at your approval and leaned you into him and kissed your forehead, also leaving a lingering kiss on your lips to which made your eyes sparkle. "I love you, 'Tsumu. Take care okay?"

"I love you too, so much, butー" You cocked a brow on him as he flashed a playful smile at you while hugging your waist, thumbs making miniscule strokes. "ーwhat will ya do if I get on an accident? Or die?"

And your loving moment was brushed back to the edge of the room as your mood soured at his question. His smile faltered as he observed your facial reaction. But that was just the tip of the iceberg of how he thought his question affected you.

"Not a good question to start our morning, Atsumu."

"I'm sorry." He whispered it under his breath after a moment of silence and this, this bothered you more than the memories currently reeling in your mind. You kissed his forehead longer than usual.

"Told 'ya 'm not leavin' you again, right?" He nodded against your tummy, eyes on you searching for something it made you run your fingers to his newly dyed hair. "'Am goin' where ya goin'. So if ya don' want me ta die then don't die. Simple."

It's now his turn to sour his reaction, "Yep, not a good topic to start our morning. 'Am sorry." You chuckled as the huffing and pouting 6 foot big baby stood and started walking to the front door with you shadowing him. "'Am gonna see ya later, 'kay?"

But his showering kisses were overbeared by the memories you had prior, and it has been an hour when Atsumu walked out from your shared apartment to his practice. These memories shouldn't wash you away from consciousness but it shook the depths of your soul it made you sob so hard.

You're living in the present, Y/n. Get your shit together.

As you were finishing up Atsumu's bento, your doorbell rang and you wondered who was it as you walked to your door. You opened it up and froze when you saw a smiling Ran, the cutie baby boy from yesterday and.. the stone-cold twin of your boyfriend. Well, stone-cold only to you.

You quickly got back from the trance when you realized you're wearing nothing but Atsumu's shirt. "Come in, make yourself at home!" You called out as you sprinted up to your bedroom to dress appropriately.

"She was crying."

"Huh?"

"Samuuu, how can you not notice it?"

"Didn't care."

"HEY! She's 'Tsumu's girlfriend!"

Silence.

"Ooohh, are you jealous?"

He would never.

You smiled as you fixed the same Atsumu's shirt you wore prior, just now with your undergarments and a short. You walked leisurely to where they are, still standing by the living room, Ran's face all teasing and Osamu's all irritated, and the baby all observant he spotted you first and made grabby hands that caught both their attention.

Ran was all smiles when she relayed the details of her planned gathering, to welcome you to the circle. It's this evening, and they'll be the one cooking. And now, she's gonna drag you to the grocery store to prepare.

"But first, we're gonna drop these bentos okay?"

And you smiled at her and nodded while she's at the passenger seat, the silent Osamu driving to the gym where the MSBY Black Jackals are having their practices. The drive seemed fast for you because you were entertained by little Takeshi beside you, slapping your arm and blabbering baby noises and you cooed in turn, poking his cute chubby cheeks. You were lost momentarily in your thoughts of Atsumu carrying your own little boy, you smiled absentmindedly at the sight of little Takeshi.

And you will never know how Osamu raised his brows while glancing at you and Takeshi in the rear view mirror. He didn't like the look in your face, it made him floored the gas pedal, passing slow cars in a flash. He just realized he did when Ran pinched his thigh and glared at him silently. He shouldn't be distracted like this, but you're making it hard for him.

The dropping of bentos went so fast, it was all Ran talking, you barely talked with Atsumu because he was busy arguing with her about the impromptu gathering later. Her husband waved hi to you across the court, loud voice echoing it made his twins squirm, searching for the source. Little Hinata was in Coach Foster's lap and behaving, but when Ran came to her and kissed her, she cried and Ran mumbled her something that calmed her down instantly.

"'Samu, don't tire her."

You heard those words as you were dragged out of the sports center, Osamu following you both with little Takeshi.

Grocery shopping was a blur as Ran and Osamu's domestic rush was in full display in your eyes, and you can't deny the envy you feelーbut for what and why, you didn't know. But one thing you're sure about. They feel like a family of their own.

Their domesticity was prolonged as they started preparing for the gathering back at your apartment, you cleaning while little Takeshi was sleeping on his portable cot in the living room. You glance at them from time to time as they move flawlessly throughout your kitchen.

"So, how do you met Atsumu?"

You propped your broom in your underarms as you wiped furnitures after furnitures, you almost missed how Osamu flinched while mincing something in the counter. Almost. And you chose to ignore it.

"I was his ex back in highschool."

She turned to Osamu and sneered, all while chopping what seems to be carrots, "Highschool huh.."

There might be under-the-counter battle because Osamu's face went contorted and scrunched, while Ran was seething. "Stop it. Okay. God. Okay, I know her all along."

"Why did you lie then, huh?" You forcefully drag your attention back to cleaning as they continue to bicker in the kitchen. Ran gasped, "Waitt, is sheー"

"No. Shut up. It's not." And Ran giggled, you didn't dare take a glance at them though they're still mumbling inaudibly.

"Soー" Ran started again after a while of inaudible arguing with Osamu. "ーwhy did you two broke up?"

"It's not appropriate ta ask that, Ran." Osamu scolded, his back turned to face the gas stove, Ran was rushing in his back anyway, preparing more ingredients for their dishes.

Ran paused and pouted. "I'm sorry. But how did you get together again?" She smiled while resuming to her task at hand. "I didn't know Atsumu can be so disgustingly romantic to take his ex back and start over."

"Yeah, like what he did ta ya huh?" Ran elbowed Osamu's back that made him chuckle because maybe it has no effect on how muscular Osamu's back isーthe memories from the night came reeling in you blinked hard and fast as you busied yourself finishing up cleaning.

"Y/n?" You flinched as you heard Ran's worried calls. "Are you okay? Called you thrice." Your eyes travelled to Osamu that has his eyes on you as he was deboning the chicken. His expression was neutral and you breathed and flickered a smile to Ran.

"I'm sorry. Umーweー" You were cutted off when Osamu huffed.

"Ya don't need to answer everything she asks. And youー" Osamu ran his greasy hands from the chicken down to Ran's face that made her whine and squirm as he held her cheeks with his fingers, giving her lips a more protruded pout. "ーStop asking personal questions. Yer overwhelming her."

You thought of clenching your fist. The tension you have with Osamu is the one overwhelming you, not Ran's questions, not her. Him. Can't he feel that?

You suddenly yearn for Atsumu's presence as you pursed your lips.

And it was not after 6 hours that your wish came true as Atsumu came with his teammates. He first went to you, kissing you by the lips that made the others chuckle and gag before even greeting you, but that made you smile.

"They didn't harass you?"

You hear mumbling sounds from the kitchen and you chuckled upon hearing them. "No. They didn't. They're cool."

"I doubt Ran didn't." And he glared at Ran across the living room to the kitchen where she and Osamu are still plating the dishes. "Just tell her off to her brothers and the problem will be solved."

"HEY!"

"Plushie, still not tired?"

"This is the last."

And you saw it, face to face. Ran and her husband kissed in front of Osamu, and Osamu'sーwellーnot fazed that he caught you staring and cocked a brow at the wake of the kiss.

"You should've brought Ayaka, Sakusa."

"She's busy, Wan-san."

"I feel so single now."

"Shut up, Driah."

"Ouji!"

"Ah! Wan-san! Don't jump scare him!"

"I'm sorry." Atsumu kissed your shoulders as you scanned your living room full of athletes, him hugging you from the back. "They're really this noisy."

"You're the noisiest." Kiyoomi, who was the nearest, commented.

It took them a while to settle them down, some of them busy with the twins in the cot, some just talking in the kitchen, sneaking out crumbs from the foods out of Ran's sight, or Osamu just leaning back on the single sofa, arms crossed against his chest and with eyes closed. He might be exhausted.

And Atsumu pressed against you while talking with Oliver about the practice that afternoon. He was intertwining your fingers with his as he was indulged with the conversation and you can't help but play with his fingers.

"Are you okay?" That was Kiyoomi, maybe sensing you're out-of-place. Ran's advances to talk to you kept getting punched out by her husband, or Osamu, or the twins whining.

"Yeah."

"Do you know that I know you, even before last week?"

That perked your attention. "Tell me more? How do you know me?"

Kiyoomi chuckled, amused at your enthusiasm. "Well, for some reason, we only knew about you when you broke up with Atsumu last 2 years. He wiped his snot and drool all over the Boys' GC. It was disgusting."

You heard Atsumu gasped at your side amidst his conversation with Oliver. "Did not!" So, he was listening. You narrowed your eyes on him to which he grinned and kissed your cheek.

"It's just the boys that know you, except him." Kiyoomi gestured to Ran's husband that's animatedly telling certain stuffs to Ran who was devotedly listening to him and smiling.

Atsumu leaned to you to whisper, "Because he's an asshole." and nodded, clearly pleased at what he said but when he saw you raised a brow, he immediately pouted and hugged your waist.

"Kita-san?"

"KITA-SAN!? KITA-SAAAAN!"

"Shut upーNot you Kita-san! I was talking to Ran!ーHai! I'm coming."

Osamu stood up and went out of the apartment almost immediately after he talked with presumably, Kita Shinsuke. You felt excitement rushing through your body, but with blots of shame at what happened two years ago. Atsumu might've noticed it because he gripped your hand tighter and brought it to his lips, mouthing an "I am here." before kissing it.

"I love you."

He smiled as the door opened, "I love you too." You brushed his hand before standing up, faced Shinsuke who was with Rin.

"What's with the tension, plushie?"

"I don't know, plushie. Let's ask them the tea later."

"What? Ya not gonna greet me after two years, Y/n?"

You felt your tears welling up as you rushed to Shinsuke and hugged him, he hugged you back just as tight, patting your back.

"'Am sorry, Kita-san."

Those words hold deeper than what it was meant.

"Fer what?" And Atsumu's voice was at your back in an instant, as always. You faced him, smiling, all while ignoring Osamu getting the stuffs Shinsuke and Rin brought.

"Kita-san made me promise not to sacrifice ya fer anything."

And as if on auto, Atsumu's lips quivered at Shinsuke who was already shaking his head and entering the apartment, straight to Ran to hug her tight.

"Yer not gon' do that again, are ya?" It was a whisper, out from the prying ears of all the people in your apartment.

"Nah. Not gon' leave ya."

Atsumu smiled at kissed your forehead before returning back to the crowd. At that split moment you gazed at the entirety of the crowd, a pair of eyes stood out. He was out there with his bestfriend showing her babies to Shinsuke and Rin. And he's staring back at you, like he did hear what you and Atsumu talked about.

And you realized it was a swear, not for Atsumu. But for yourself.

The dinner with the team, Shinsuke and Rin went by. Rin is still awkward with you, though, while he's talkative with Ran and her twins. Well, that's to be expected. You really did a number on Atsumu anyway.

Your soul shot up when a hand grabbed your shoulder and a "Hey" sounded out of nowhere. Ran giggled noticing you got shocked. "Can I use your room? I have to breastfeed."

"Sure!"

"Thank you! You can come in anytime, okay?" You nodded, beamed at her and tickled little Takeshi's cheek.

"Ran's gonna breastfeed. Be back."

"You're not part of that breastfeed session, may I remind you."

"Fuck you." The big man laughed. "No one's gonna hold this other pooper."

Then, the married couple went up to your bedroom while you went back beside Kiyoomi and listened to the discussion at hand.

"ーimagine him being a father already." That was Adriah.

So their discussion was about Ran's husband, huh.

"It fits him."

"When would you marry Ayaka, Sakusa?"

All of them laughed when Kiyoomi choke on his beer and coughed all over. Kiyoomi groaned at Shion who asked that question.

"She would probably laugh me off."

Meian snickered and faced Atsumu who was laughing at Kiyoomi. "You? When?"

Atsumu then turned to you, the same time as Osamu stood up and walked upstairs, maybe to your room where the married couple is. "When she's ready."

You smiled but all you could hear were Osamu's heavy steps in the stairs amidst the teasing of the team and Shinsuke. Rintarou however is staring back at you, narrowed green eyes piercing to your skull. He was nodding after a while and stood up, whispered something to Shinsuke who also stood up, then to Atsumu.

"You're leaving already?"

"Still have to go back to Nagano at dawn or I'm gonna hear it from Motoya. Kita-san also has some work early tomorrow."

Atsumu pouted as you stood up and hugged Shinsuke who petted your hair, "Please, Y/n. Don't do it again hm? If there's a chance of you doing it again, just leave now while it's still early."

"Kita-san?" There was worry all over Atsumu's tone, and as he gazed at you but you just smiled at both of them.

Rin scoffed, "Kita-san, we have to say goodbye to the three upstairs."

And Osamu didn't like it when both of you were left in the bedroom after Shinsuke and the others as well said their goodbyes. Both Ran and her husband be all polite and see them off, leaving you both so awkward with the drowsy twins. He was laying next to Hinata who was cuddling close to him, you ghosting his back and awkwardly standingーor not.

"Stop what you're doing, Osamu." He hated it when you open that damn pretty mouth of yours. He nearly rolled his eyes.

"I can't. I have to pet her for her to sleep. Hinataー"

"You know that's not what I meant." He exhaled, freezing his hands on Hinata's cheek.

"Why? What else was I doing, Y/n?"

"Reminding me you existed."

Osamu scoffed at it; of course you'll be reminded, he practically has the same face as Atsumu's. But other than that, he never had those intentions. He should never have those intentions. You were Atsumu's and will always be. Besides, he knows he's inlove with Ran. For him, you're just something that should stay in his past.

"Not doing anything like that."

Liar. Your tears welled up as it came flooding into you.

"Atsumu. We have to clean up, come on."

"Butー"

"I don't want to leave your apartment all messy. Let's clean up."

Osamu stood up when he heard that but you had to confront him now or never, so you held him back.

"You wasted an afternoon practice just to crash my first date with Atsumu." You pointed out while he scoffed again, incredulous. "You were the first to comfort me when we had our first fight."

Osamu's face can't be painted when he turned to you, "Of course, I can't have you leaving Atsumu over petty things."

"Because of something you suggested. Remember? Getting me as a manager?" Osamu stared you with pursed lips. "You can't deny now? Remember you implied that you love me, Osamu? Remember that you said you can treat me better?"

Osamu charged at you, a couple inches away you can feel his rage it made you want to stand down. "That was before I met Ran." He hissed under his breath, not wanting to make it any more louder. "That was before you and Atsumu."

You can feel tears falling down your cheeks, you really have no idea why. You just wanted to confront him but he was making all these excuses. For what? To hurt you? To get back the pain you caused Atsumu?

"What was that night, then?"

"What? I can't even remember a thing, I was too wastedー"

Ran's husband suddenly went inside casually and stared at you both, mouthing Atsumu's name. You have no time to process that he might've hear something everything, you wiped your tears as you heard Atsumu's familiar bounding steps to your room. Osamu huffed and went straight out of the room, giving way to Atsumu at the door who went confused.

"Gonna load the other things to the car. The twins needs to sleep on their bed."

And Osamu has to get away from you. Fast.

He saw how Ran stood awkwardly at the living room, in mid-fixing the twins' stuffs. "Go get the twins. We're going."

"Didー"

"Go get the twins, Ran."

Ran mouthed a resigned Okay before going up to get the twins, and her husband as well.

Osamu can still hear Atsumu's voice calling out for him as he exited his apartment. He knew Atsumu's worried about what he didn't know was happening in his own premises. Osamu can't help but to rub his hands across his face exasperatedly. The married couple noticed this but chose to be silent, waiting for him to share his burdens.

"Spit it out~" Osamu mused one day alone with Ran in their apartment with the twins. Her husband just left for practice and they were cleaning fast before the double terror wakes up from their naps.

Ran held onto the dishes in the sink as she gazes at Osamu across the living room. "W-what was she like back in high school? Y/n?"

Osamu continued to clutter out the twins' playpen, pondering to or not to give in to Ran's probing. He figured she has to let her know though, since she was his bestfriend, in every sense of the word.

"She's nice."

And then there was silence, Osamu had to look up to find Ran with her brows all furrowed and he chuckled. "Don't throw those dishes at me."

"I won't, if you just get on with it and share. You look clearlyーi don't knowーdisturbed? Agonizing at something?"

Did he really look like that? He wasn't even aware.

"She's nice. She's academically inclined. She used to tutor Atsumu."

"Y/n, can you please tutor me and Osamu?"

"She's brave and cocky."

"Fuck! Why did you punch me?!"

"Well, I don't know, ask the cookies and our grades after!"

"Athletic, too."

"Y/n! Just choose one, geez. You already have tennis!"

"Considerate at times."

"Okay. Atsumu, it's okay. You can be late sometimes. I'll understand."

"She's ー" Osamu huffed as he paused, Ran's back to washing the dishes and humming at his words letting him know she's listening. "She's crazy in love with Atsumu."

"What are you doing here, 'Samu?"

"Ah? Rintarou and I are going to the arcades. You guys wanna come?"

"No. We'll be on our own."

"Come on, Y/n, let's join them."

"She's fragile. Can't even understand how she lasted for a year with Atsumu."

"'Samuuu~ she's liking somebody else's picture! He even commented 'You look nice' to this Ran somebody!"

"But she's goal-driven, she can sacrifice anything to reach her dreams. A wide-vision of her expected future with Atsumu."

"'Samu. She broke up with me."

"She said I can't do volleyball all our life and when I argued with her, she broke up with me saying she can't be with someone so unstable. How's going pro in volleyball so unstable?"

"I don't like when she's reckless and just go on out without even thinking of the consequences for a second."

"Can't know why she still hasn't fallen fer ya."

"Sheー"

"She made you forget something for a while?"

Osamu suddenly stood up, wide eyed at Ran's back who was smiling, putting away the dishes to the dishwasher for secondary wash. And it irritated the hell out of Osamu he stormed to the counter.

"She's a virus, Ran. She's everywhere and I didn't notice it. She's everywhere and threatening to infect everything I have! She's gonna destroy Atsumu and I will not notice it!"

But Ran just turned to him and smiled. "What's holding you back, Osamu?"

"Nothing." He dropped his head low, feeling so drained of what's happening. "Nothing, please stop."

"Osamu." He whined at her demanding tone. "Osamu look at me."

Ran looked at him as if she was gonna drop a bomb, and she did. "Am I, by some wildest assumptions, the reason you're holding back?" Osamu gulped hard at Ran's questioning eyes. "Am I the reason you're turning down every single girl out there to prevent yourself from being happy?"

"Am I preventing you on being happy, Osamu?"

"Yes! So shut up!"

"No."

It felt more like a prayer than it should just be. Osamu will never permit Ran to be the reason of his miserable and complicated life. She will never be the reason for him being lonely. He needs to be, because he has to be.

But here is she, after 7 cycles, confronting him for what felt like forever.

"Are you, perhaps, inlove with me, Osamu?"

He stared at Ran full of emotions for the first time since that incident that led him to this seemed-endless cycle. He already had explored his options, scenarios, simulations, as to how to answer her when she asks again that darned question.

"No, Ran. But I have no choice but to stay with you, yeah?"

And no matter what happened, he knows it'll still be his answer.

"No. No, I'm not inlove with you, Ran. Don't worry."

And she has to feel like his words are true, especially when he saw the wash of relief in Ran's face.

"But I know some who are. You wanna hit on them? Gonna be our secret, don't worry." Osamu chuckled as to how he saw Ran's eyes bulged and her unsightful mannerism came, one of the reasons why he can't do something so rash like confessing out of blue.

☆ VOLLEYBALL IDIOTS - MAIN ☆

CAT | Tora

WHAT!? @Sou Inouka, you made out with some girl and you were filmed?

DT | Mai

😳😲

CAT | Lev

ERASED IT ALREADY! I SWEAR!

OWL | Akinori

send.

SJ | Maki

my DMs are open 💅

FOX | Rintarou

ehem

DT | Kenji

hi Lev

CAT | Sou

Hate you all!

@Ran

CAT | Kenma

Grabbed the wild card this early 🤣

CAT | Sou

They won't stop, Kenma-san!

STZ | Taichi

Boo! 😆

CRW | Ran

I have a question!

and stop bullying sou-chan 😄

FOX | Samu

I'm sorry guys. She got me cornered.

Ran gasped at Osamu's side. "EXCUSE ME!?" Osamu just laughed, but it faded as the GC notifs went on.

Kiyoomi Sakusa added you to the groupchat

Kiyoomi Sakusa changed your nickname to FUTURE MIYA

RAN'S PLUSHIE

Put a distinction @Kiyoomi Sakusa LOL

FOX | Shin

Yes. Coz we have two Miyas here.

FOX | Rintarou

LMAO Hi @FUTURE MIYA

Ran side-eyed Osamu and his mood that turned sour instantly at the development in the GC. His lips form a thin line, sign of annoyance and Ran immediately ran a comforting one finger massage in his forehead, a familiar gesture she always do when Osamu's like this in front of her.

"The boys don't like her for what she did to Atsumu?" Osamu nodded and discarded his phone while Ran huffed as she types away. "If you have feelings for her or none, you have to give her closure or something, you know? She won't be at peace in her current relationship if you don't give her that detail, that period of whatever you have with each other."

"Atsumu.."

"And Atsumu will have to stomach it all up. You're a part of his girlfriend's life, let alone his own twin. He has to be open-minded of what she have with you. He should trust you, like how plushie trusts you. The problem here is, we don't know what's Y/n's take on you. It will be a disaster if she hasーugh, that's frustrating."

Osamu couldn't blame Ran for stressing out. He believes it's your fault, and that what you said that he reminds you of his existence, it goes both ways. Why do you have to poke up again into his life?

And Atsumu. He genuinely cares of Atsumu's welfare and emotions, he can't mess this up. His twin loves you with all his heart, much to show that he took you back into his life after the break up.

You're making it hard for him.

But he doesn't know it's harder for you. These past few days feel like you're treading in shattered glasses, walking slowly, praying nothing will prick you but alas! It finally pierced through your flesh.

Atsumu's gone curious about what happened between you and Osamu, and you continuously lie about it; preferred saying it's because of the previous break-up rather than the messy one that would probably break you both again, never to return back again.

And you're scared, coz even if Osamu's there, you know you love Atsumu, you feel it deep in your guts that you love the man you're with right now. Not his twin. Not Osamu. Atsumu.

You're scared of what will he say, scared of what would he feel, scared of everything that might hurt him.

"Are you okay? I'm really worried. Please talk to me, Y/n."

You smiled at him, being obscure with sniffing, gulping your tears as you thought of how to open up these things to him.

"I'm okay, 'Tsumu."

"Will a hug work?"

But you can't really control the waterworks when you're around this pure-hearted man. Before you can even nod, he hugged you tight, petting your hair and kissing your forehead for as long as you needed, shushing you, soothing your sobs.

You don't deserve someone like Atsumu. You'll break him and his brother. You thought you were already okay, you thought it's gonna be different this time. But escaping something deep would just suck you right back in. You knew you have to manually bury everything to get to the surface again, to hold Atsumu again.

You hated the thought of sacrificing Atsumu again. You regretted each waking day that you're not with him. You regretted every decision that caused him pain. He should just be happy. He should just be happy and nothing else. He deserves the world.

But here you are, threatening to hurt him again.

"You love Atsumu, huh?"

"With all my heart, Osamu. With all of my heart. So pleaseー"

"Okay."

You have to fix your relationship with Osamu as fast as you can, before Atsumu hears about it. He has to cooperate. He has to.

"Ah! Y/n, don't lie~"

"What?"

"Your birthday wish was Osamu to like you, too."

"Don't lieee~"

"He was your crush since Primary."

Fuck. You can do this, Y/n. Focus on Atsumu. Focus on Atsumu.

It has been peaceful for 5 months, if you call theー not interacting with Osamu, avoiding him every gathering, and avoiding Rintarou tooーpeaceful. You know Ran and her husband has an idea about what's happening under Atsumu's welcome mat and you're all so grateful they aren't doing anything to complicate things more. Whenever Ran talks with you, she avoids mentioning Osamu as much as she can. She was sincere on having you as her friend, getting to know you more. And her husband doesn't mind what he saw that night at all. He just gave you a pat in the shoulder when he saw you again. It made you weary too, for if Atsumu will know about this from people other than you, Ran and her husband will be dragged onto the mess you created.

You hated being the cause of everything bad that's happening to the kind people around you. It made you wonder why have you ever existed. You're awful.

"Y/n." You whirled around, your astronaut helmet-like kiddie hat got lopsided to the side of your head. He stood tall, also with his kiddie hat, brooding eyes on you.

"Osamu."

╰► PART 2

Reblogs and interactions are appreciated. Theories will be entertained. Cassie 2023.

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