#[ and then the fool pokes his woman and then reaLLY starts making out with her ] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

readerthatreadsss · 1 year

Text

Worth The Wait | Steven Grant

(Inspired by the song of the same title by Kali Uchis)

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and Steven have been roommates for a while now. But one night after being stood up by yet another guy in a string of dates gone wrong, Steven offers you some support...which sparks an interesting chain of events.

Warnings[18+ activities MDNI]: sub! (ish) Steven, dom! (ish) reader, fools in love, friends/roommates to lovers, mentions of drunk reader (but not drunk when they actually have sex, you'll see), crying (reader's drunk and starts venting for a bit, that's all), unprotected p in v sex (cloak the joker before you poke her), oral sex (steven and r receiving), Steven doubting himself mid-sex, assertive reader and awkward Steven! , choking (r receiving), riding, creampie, barely edited cause I'm really fuckin tired.

A/N: Hi. Don't ask me where I found the time or motivation to write this shit when school started back a month ago. The idea just popped into my head and my fingers didn't stop moving once I opened a draft. Note, I have a tall fem! reader x Steven in my drafts to finish so don't think I forgot!

"Steeeeven," knock knock knock, "STEVENNNN," knock knock knock−

Steven's brows furrowed beneath his reading glasses at the sound of your voice coming from outside your shared apartment door. Concern as well as confusion sprang through him instantly. You sounded drunk. Which he was sure to be the case seeing as you were sloppily knocking at the door rather than opening it with your keys.

He quickly shut the book he was reading and removed his glasses before making his way over to the door in fear that your next call of his name would wake the entire building.

Unfortunately, he opened the door at the very moment you launched your hand forward to knock once more. This caused you to tumble through the door with a drunken yelp. But Steven caught you in his arms before your body could hit the ground.

You looked up at him with a lazy smile and hooded eyes. "Thanks, Stevie bear," you hiccuped, using both hands to cling onto one of his very defined biceps. You had never realized how big and firm they were before that moment.

"You're welcome," Steven replied worriedly. He swiftly shut the door with his foot and used your grip on his arm to bring you standing back on your feet. "Y/n what the bloody hell happened to your date?"

You rolled your eyes at his question, kicking off your heels and making your way over to the couch without somehow falling again. "See now, Steven," you paused and pointed at him drunkenly, "it can't be a date if the said date doesn't even bother to show up!" you explained.

Steven sighed deeply at your explanation as he sat on the other end of the couch. This wasn't the first time this had happened to you—or him for that matter—but he could never understand why. You were easily one of the most beautiful women in London, and definitely one of the smartest, (your framed Ph.D. in psychology hanging over the television was evidence of that). You were the full package and more. Any man would be lucky to have you.

But the men of London were clearly morons if they kept standing you up or acting like complete knobs to you on your dates.

He would never do that to you. But he's seen photos of your past dates. A woman like you was way out of his league and would never go for someone like him, anyone with eyes could see that.

"How much have you had to drink?" Steven suddenly asked you.

You raised 3 fingers to the best of your ability. "Six," you answered before bursting into a fit of giggles at Steven's expression.

"Gosh, y/n, you're absolutely clobbered," he grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and spread it over where your short skin-tight dress was riding up your thighs.

"Well I didn't lie," you sat up abruptly, throwing the blanket off your lap and turning to face Steven and sit as crosslegged as your dress would allow, "Three of the drinks were margaritas...the other three were shots of vodka though," you admitted softly as if it were some secret for only yours and Steven's ears.

"Do you have work in the morning?" Steven questioned gently, picking up the blanket and handing it back to you. Your dress was riding up with every slight movement you made, which meant more of your thighs being exposed to him. Despite this, Steven wouldn't dare look anywhere except your eyes.

"Nope." You threw the blanket back on the floor. The night was pretty warm, you don't understand why Steven keeps giving it to you.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee or tea?"

"Yup."

Steven looked at you in question for a few seconds. "Which one?" he prodded, fighting back a smile at your muddled state.

You moved closer and narrowed your eyes, "Which one of what?" you questioned, truly confused, before breaking out into another fit of drunken giggles that caused you to momentarily tumble forward and land your hands on Steven's thighs.

"Coffee it is then," Steven answered for you, his voice traveling up an octave. He then carefully moved your hand from his thighs, trying to ignore the chills your touch sent up his spine, and hightailed it to the kitchen to put on the percolator for you.

You tilted your head as he walked away, noting how quickly he left.

When Steven returned with your cup of coffee (with cream and no sugar just how you liked it), he found you seated in the same spot but with his blanket draped over your head and body while soft sniffles and sobs met his ears.

He placed your cup on the table nearby and carefully approached your figure on the couch. Steven reached for the blanket and slowly removed it from your body.

"Why are you crying, love?" he sweetly asked once your face came into view.

"Because I'm a mess," you sniffled, using a hand to wipe the trail of tears falling from your eyes.

Steven's head tilted in disbelief at your words. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Yes I do," you nodded fervently, "It's why my dates have sucked for the past 2 months, it's why I got passed over for that goddamn promotion at work last week, and it's why you can't stand being around me for longer than 3 minutes these days."

Steven was taken aback by your words. You thought he couldn't stand to be around you? That's impossible.

"You practically sprinted to the kitchen!" you added after a few moments of silence.

"To make you coffee," Steven protested, gesturing to the cup lying untouched nearby.

"I saw your face," you looked down at where your hands lay in your lap.

Steven swallowed harshly. "Y/n."

You ignored his call for your attention.

"Look at me," he came closer and entangled his hands with your own in your lap, immediately causing you to look up at him with tear-stained eyes, "You are not a mess," he softly yet sternly said to you.

"Yes I am−"

"No. You are not," he interrupted your arguing, "Your dates? They're all losers for letting you slip through their hands. And if a few bad dates is fate's way of making you wait to find the one, then I think that's well worth the holdup, yeah?"

You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously before nodding in agreement.

"And as for my behavior earlier, it was−" Steven paused with a sigh fumbling for a sensible excuse, "it's your perfume."

You pulled a face that would have made Steven laugh under normal circumstances. "My perfume? You hate my perfume?"

Steven swallowed harshly. He hated lying. He wasn't even good at it. But convincing you that he couldn't bear your perfume was easier than admitting that he just couldn't handle the way your hands felt on his thighs or the way his entire body heated up when you leaned closer to him. "Yup. The smell was too much for me," he fibbed.

You rested your head in your palms, pouting slightly. "But you're the only reason I wear this perfume, Steven," you confessed, barely audible.

Steven's face fell. "What?"

"You told me that you liked it when I moved in and from then I kept buying it just because you liked it."

Steven's heart swelled at your admission. He felt like an asshole. He was no better than the losers you'd been going on dates with.

You continued to speak. You could feel words preparing to leave your lips that have been eating at you for a while, now guided by your lowered inhibitions. "And I didn't only mean just now. These past few weeks you can barely look me in my eyes, or be near me, Steven. What am I doing wrong?" your voice broke with your last words.

Steven had seen you cry a few times before. But this time was different. The look on your face was heart-wrenching. He couldn't believe that he made you feel like this.

Because he was having trouble dealing with his own feelings for you, he made you think he hated you...when it was the complete opposite.

"There's nothing wrong with you. It's all my fault," Steven said, breaking away from your gaze, feeling it pierce through him.

"I'm the one who was dumb enough to fall in love with you..." he added, only to look up and see you passed out against the arm of the couch.

A part of him was saddened that you fell asleep before hearing his confession. But another was grateful and profoundly unprepared for your inevitable rejection.

Steven looked at you for a few more seconds before carefully picking you up—smiling to himself when you curled into his chest—and carrying you to your bedroom.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

You woke up in a slight daze...and in someone else's bed.

It took a few glances around the room for you to piece together that you were in Steven's room.

And then all of last night's events came back to mind, seeping in and clearing the fog that your excessive alcohol consumption had sired;

Your failed date. Coming home and falling into Steven's arms. Saying way too much to Steven. Steven's last words before your body shut down.

Steven.

"Oh God," you mumbled, cradling your face in your hands.

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. You thanked whatever higher power was at work that Steven was still asleep on the couch when you padded through the living room.

But when you finished showering and exited the bathroom, you were hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. You poked your head into the living room to make sure Steven was still in the kitchen before running a path straight to your room and getting dressed.

After throwing on one of your old university crew necks and the first shorts you could get your hands on (which happened to be very short ones), you heard a knock at your door followed by Steven's voice.

"Y/N? I have a cup of green tea and some painkillers here...thought you'd need them."

You found yourself smiling at the sound of his voice, something that was becoming more common in recent weeks. What did you do to deserve a man like Steven in your life?

You quickly moved to open the door and let Steven in. "Hey, Steven," you greeted him with a small smile.

He released a nervous chuckle as he presented a cup and two pills to you. "Good morning."

You took them happily, bringing them to your night table. "I'm not actually feeling very hungover," you said to him, turning to sit on your bed.

"Really? That's surprising...considering last night," Steven replied, taking a hesitant step further into your room.

"Yeah must be my tolerance and all that," you shrugged, taking interest in how Steven had yet to meet your eyes since you opened the door.

A beat of silence passed between you while you took a sip of your tea. "Steven, you can sit," you softly spoke, gesturing to your bed.

"Oh, sure," Steven took a seat at the farthest edge of your bed, maintaining a more than comfortable space between you.

"How'd I end up in your bed this morning?" you suddenly questioned. You were genuinely curious, but the reaction it garnered from Steven was more than worth it.

After a brief clear of his throat, Steven answered, "Well you sorta climbed into my bed in the middle of the night, gave me quite a scare actually, and I wanted to give you space to rest so I let you have my bed and I slept in the couch."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you frowned, a tinge of embarrassment seeping in, "Why didn't you sleep in my bed?"

"Because..." laying in your bed that smells flawlessly like you would've sent him into cardiac arrest- "the couch is more comfortable."

You nodded in understanding, placing your half-empty teacup back on the table.

"If you uh need anything," Steven stood up from your bed, slowly walking backward to the door, "just shout," he said as he turned to open the door.

"Did you mean it?"

Steven halted in place at your words, his back still facing you.

You slid off your bed and approached his oddly still figure.

Steven's throat ran dry. There's no way you could have actually heard him. Right? "What?" is all he managed to say.

You walked past him and used a hand to close the door, coming to stand in front of him. You needed to look at his face. Living with Steven for a year has taught you that he wasn't a man of many words but his face said more than enough when he couldn't. Drunk you couldn't utilize your psych degree the night before, but sober you sure could at that moment.

"Did you mean it?" you repeated, "When you said you fell in love with me?"

Steven's jaw slackened when he met your stare, that feeling of being pierced by your gaze returning. "I-"

Your eyes narrowed as you took a step closer to him, now being close enough for his nervous breaths to fan across your lips. "Because if you meant it then I would tell you that. I think..." you paused and looked away for a moment, "No, I know that I love you too."

Steven's hooded brown eyes widened. He blinked a few times, trying to will himself to wake up if this was a dream.

You bit back a small laugh at his expression before you continued. "I love how willing you were to rent some small-time therapist your extra bedroom because you heard her crying in the corner of a coffee shop that she'd been kicked out by her stupid ex-boyfriend. I love the mugs you buy me every month because you saw them and they reminded you of me. I love how you watch shitty action movies with me after every bad date I have because you want to take my mind off them. I love how much you care about...everything really. I love you, Steven Grant," an enlightened smile rested on your face as you spoke, "and I'm sorry that I spent the past year thinking everything you made me feel was platonic when the truth was that you made me feel things that no one else has. I'm an idiot Steven-"

"No," Steven's first word came, a relieved smile accompanying it, "You are not an idiot. You are the smartest person I've ever met. Smarter than me, that's for sure," at that, you both laughed, "I've spent this whole year thinking that you would never see me as anything more than your weird, boring roommate...and turns out you loved me this whole time," he ended in a soft whisper, shocked by his own conclusion. Steven found his eyes drifting down to your lips and you immediately took note of it.

You exhaled deeply before closing the gap between you and Steven, meeting his lips in a bold kiss.

Initially stunned, Steven sunk into your lips soon after, gently bringing his hands up to rest on the sides of your face.

Your brain fogged as Steven devoured your lips, an unusual confidence taking over him. You wrapped your hands around his neck and smiled into the kiss, allowing Steven to slip his tongue past your lips, tasting more of you and pulling a moan from your chest.

Steven pulled away first, feeling himself enter a state that he wouldn't dare himself to in your presence. You bit back a whine when his lips left yours, looking up at him in confusion.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he spoke, taking a step away from you.

You licked your lips and stepped towards him. "Steven, trust me, I want to do this. I want to do a lot more than this actually," you pulled his waist flush against your body, drawing a shared moan from you both when his growing bulge pressed against your stomach.

Steven's hands flew up to grab the back of your neck and your jaw. He softly muttered your name, as a warning more than anything else.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss against the corner of his lips. "If you say no, we will stop this right now and go eat breakfast. But if you say yes, we are gonna stay here and I'm gonna let you do very bad things to my body."

Steven swallowed harshly. "God, yes," he replied, failing to swallow back a whimper at the implication of your words.

Your hands squeezed his waist as you moved back to look at his face fully. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that Stevie," you smirked.

Steven looked down at you with adoration clear in his eyes. He couldn't believe this was really about to happen. He used his hold on your neck to pull your lips crashing into his. This kiss was a lot more hungrier than the first, with Steven now making his intentions much clearer.

"I'll take that as a yes," you grinned between kisses.

Steven groaned his agreement as he continued to kiss you.

You used your grip on his waist to push him back towards your bed, effectively breaking your kiss and causing him to land on the edge of your bed with a grunt.

Steven looked up at you through his lashes in awe as you approached him. He watched keenly as you removed your top, wearing nothing underneath, before moving to straddle his thighs. Steven made a move to touch your chest before stopping his shaky hands midair and looking at you in question.

You gently held Steven's chin up and smiled down at him. "Steven you can touch me," you reassured him. Even in an intimate moment like this, he was ever the gentleman...

Steven indulged with a sheepish smile and brought both his palms to each of your breasts. Unable to help himself, Steven dove in and took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud.

"Fuck, Steven," you moaned, eyes slamming shut at how good it felt. Your words only seemed to egg him on further as Steven switched to your other breast, his lips and tongue moving against it with more enthusiasm.

Your hands at the back of his neck grabbed fistfuls of his curls while his ministrations against your chest pulled more moans and whines from your lips.

Some time after, you pulled Steven's lips away from your breasts and met them in a searing kiss, pressing your clothed cunt down against his erection. "Shit," Steven lowly cursed, bringing his hands to your waist to grind you down further against his bulge.

You obliged with a moan, grinding in Steven's lap harder. "Tell me what you want, Steven," you whispered against his lips.

Steven's hands squeezed your waist harshly when your lips began sucking against his throat. He could barely put together thoughts at the moment, much less words.

You trailed a hand down to the waistband of Steven's sweats and slowly reached under it for his cock. You swallowed a moan when your hand traced his full length and girth. "You've been holding out on me Steven," you chuckled against his neck.

Steven blushed furiously at your words. "Thank you?" he responded awkwardly, barely functioning with your hand rubbing along his cock.

You chuckled once again, pulling away from his neck to look at him. "You're so pretty," you said, causing another wave of red to hit Steven's cheeks.

"No one's ever said that to me before," he admitted softly.

"Well that's okay, cause I want to be the only one who makes you blush like this," you grinned brushing a stray curl from his forehead, "I bet your cock is just as pretty," your hand picked up speed beneath Steven's pants, "Can I see it? Please?"

Steven nodded enthusiastically. "Anything you want," he said with a desperation that had your pussy throbbing with need. You briefly lifted your hips allowing Steven to clumsily slide off his sweatpants and boxers and step out of them.

Once you returned to your position on his thighs, you looked down at his cock, the head already dripping with small beads of precum. The length was truly unexpected, as well as the girth. You would do anything to feel him inside you.

But for now, you really wanted to taste him.

Steven watched you sink to your knees before him, your eyes never straying from his.

"Are you sure you want to-"

"Steven you said anything I wanted," you paused, gliding your fingers over his length and watching it twitch in response, "And I really want to taste you. Can I suck your cock, Steven?"

Steven's breathing picked up as he took in the image before him; you on your knees, touching his dick while literally begging to suck it with a look in your eyes he could only compare to the look of a wild female tiger eyeing her freshly caught meal in the nature documentary he watched the week before.

"Please, please do," his response came soon after.

You began with a kiss to the head of his cock that made it immediately jump in your hand. You couldn't help but chuckle, and it was a sound that Steven hoped would be the last thing he heard before he left this earth. "You're so sensitive, Stevie," you cooed before pressing another kiss but to the base of his length.

Steven released a sharp moan at both of your kisses to his cock, finding himself embarrassingly close to cumming already.

"Please," he pleaded your name with a whine, "stop teasing."

You swirled your tongue around the head where precum had gathered, moaning in time with your movements and drawing yet another mewl from Steven. "Oh but Stevie, I just love hearing you say please," you teased him, looking up from where you had a hand wrapped around his base and another briefly caressing his balls.

Steven was now panting, his eyes never leaving you as you held him. He watched you slowly wrap your lips around his tip before slowly sinking down.

After reaching a little more than halfway down Steven's cock, you felt yourself gag but simply stilled instead of removing yourself completely.

"Fucking hell," Steven grunted before melding into a pathetic moan once you held your position. You eventually let up when you almost ran out of air and slowly removed your lips from his dick, your eyes meeting his with tears streaming along your face from the stretch.

You were prepared to do it once again but felt Steven's palm grab your chin before you could. "No, love, please. If you do that again I'm afraid I'm not gonna last."

Steven watched you lick your lips before shifting to trap his thumb in between your lips and softly suck on it. He couldn't stop the whine that slipped his lips at your action.

You eventually released his thumb from the confines of your mouth and came to stand over him with a smile. "Well then. Tell me what you want to do next. I'm all yours, baby, remember?"

Steven brought his hands to rest on your hips and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against your stomach. "I-uhh," his brows furrowed and he shook his head briefly as if sending away a thought.

"What is it, Steven?"

The man beneath you looked up to meet your eager eyes, suddenly confident enough to say what he wanted. "I really...really want to taste you."

You felt your breath hitch at his request. It was rare for a man to enthusiastically offer to go down on you. Though it was clear to you now that Steven was most definitely a rare man.

"You want to?" you felt your voice come out a lot more unsure than usual.

Steven's brows furrowed once again as a fleeting smile graced his lips at your response. "Of course I do, sweetheart. Do men not usually..."

You harshly exhaled. "I mean some do but I usually have to complain first or they do it cause they want me to return the favor," you admitted.

"They don't deserve you. No one does," Steven softly uttered, gazing up at you with eyes you were growing more fond of by the minute.

You quickly leaned down to meet him in a kiss in response. You didn't deserve him either.

Steven pulled you back into his lap and kissed you back eagerly. But he was the first to pull away, causing you to whine in a way that made his cock jump against your cunt. "I-I really did mean it, love, I need to taste you. Now."

You had never seen Steven so demanding. It had you throbbing in anticipation. You allowed him to lay you on your back and peel away your shorts and panties to reveal the part of you where you needed him most.

Steven looked starstruck as he examined your arousal. He moved closer and closer to your pussy, letting his warm breath fan over your glistening lips.

"Steven please-" you begged, though you couldn't finish your thought before your voice broke into a loud moan when Steven licked a stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit.

Steven closed his eyes, relishing his first taste of you. It was everything he'd quite literally dreamed of and more.

And so, he eagerly dived into your core.

Your hands flew to Steven's head working between your legs as your thighs instinctively closed around his head from the sudden wave of pleasure surging through you.

The feeling of your thighs trapping his head against your pussy was absolute bliss to Steven. He moaned into you as his tongue swirled around your clit sloppily. If he was inexperienced, you couldn't tell because every movement of his tongue brought you closer and closer to your release.

The vibrations of Steven's enjoyment drew a brief scream from your chest before you slapped a hand over your lips to silence it.

Steven finally came up for air, his lips and jaws covered in your slick. His curls were strewn along his forehead by a damp layer of sweat as his dilated pupils met your own. "C'mon. I want to hear those pretty noises you make for me, love," he said before running two of his fingers through your folds to gather some of your wetness and slowly inserting them into you.

"Oh my-STEVEN" your back arched up and off your bed as you felt immediately filled up by Steven's digits.

Steven gauged your reactions as he slowly removed his fingers before pushing them again with no resistance due to your arousal. "I've wanted this for so long, love," he began to speak as he slowly leaned down to press his lips against your clit in a kiss, "Wanted to hear you moaning my name," he sped up his fingers' movements inside you, "Wanted to taste you," he added another finger, now touching that spot inside your walls with every thrust, "You're so beautiful," he ended before fully diving back in with his tongue against your bud.

"Yes—fuck—you're so good to me baby," you finally gathered enough breath to speak while gaining a proper grip on his head. With every sharp lick or nip he'd make, you would tighten your grip on his hair and it would only spur him on further. It was only a matter of seconds from there before...

"Shit, I'm gonna cum, Steven," you called out, looking down to meet where he was already staring up at you, and speeding up his fingers and tongue's ministrations against you.

He held your stare once he felt your walls clench around his fingers and heard your moan melt into a scream.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK," you shouted as your orgasm slammed into you thanks to Steven's eager tongue and fingers.

Steven watched your chest slow its heaving when your climax subsided and removed his fingers but couldn't stop himself from licking the remnants of your release from your folds. It was as if he was trying to work you up to another orgasm.

"Shit Steven wait," you mewled, attempting to close your legs from overstimulation. But Steven used strength you'd never known him to have to shove your legs back open and hold them in place, clearly intent on tasting every bit of what you had to offer.

Your eyes widened. "Holy fuck," you removed both your hands from Steven's head and ran them over your face and boobs. He was driving you absolutely insane. If it weren't for his grip on your legs you would be trembling beneath him.

It wasn't long before a second orgasm crept up on you, one more powerful than the last. Your lips parted in a silent scream as your climax washed over your entire body, from your thighs to your feet, to the base of your fucking spine.

Steven couldn't help but stare as he cleaned you up for the last time with his tongue. He couldn't believe he got to see this. To make you feel like this.

Your high subsided soon after and you released a sharp exhale followed by a laugh of disbelief.

Steven moved from his position on his knees before you to hover above you on your bed. "You okay, love?" he questioned in concern

You responded to his question with a satisfied grin. "I'm great, Stevie," you spoke before meeting his lips in a sweet kiss, "But..."

Steven's face fell at your words. He slowly moved from above you to lay next to you, scared to meet your eyes. "I did something wrong didn't I? Or did I forget to do something? I'm sorry-" he rambled, immediately doubting himself.

But his words died in his throat when you turned and caressed his cheek with a hand, your grin still present on your face. "You did nothing wrong," you insisted, "That was no doubt one of the best orgasms of my entire life."

Steven looked away and laughed at your confession. "You don't have to say that to make me feel better."

"I mean it, Steven," your voice grew stern, "That was fucking incredible."

Steven couldn't even formulate a response.

"What I was going to say was," you broke his silence, "I promised you could do bad things to my body and you haven't done nearly enough for me," you ended with a smirk.

Steven grunted when he felt your fingertips run along his cock.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Steven?" you questioned innocently while completely wrapping your hand around and stroking Steven's dick.

He nodded quickly, his bottom lip held between his teeth as he tried not to react to how soft your hand felt around his painfully hard cock. "I do. So badly, love."

You released him and brought a hand over to grab Steven's neck before using your grip to pull him back to his previous position above you. "Then fuck me, Steven. I need you to fuck me," you whispered.

Steven wasted no time in grabbing his length and lining himself up with your entrance. "Are you sure?" he checked in with you once more.

You jerked your hip in the direction of his cock in an effort to fill yourself up but to no avail. You were so damn desperate you didn't care how you sounded. "Yes Steven, please, I need you to fill me up. Fill me up baby, c'mon," you whined hurriedly.

"Well who am I to deny you of what you want, love?" he replied before slowly guiding himself into you.

He immediately groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. "Heavens, love, you're so—aghh—tight," he grunted.

Your moans were never-ending as he sunk into you inch by inch. The stretch was briefly painful but it hurt so good you didn't care.Steven stopped halfway in and leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead. "You're taking me so well, sweetheart," he praised you.

You bit your lip at his praise. "More, Steven, keep going."

Steven obliged and fully sunk into you with one last push. Your moans mixed in the air at the sudden change. "You feel so good inside me Steven, oh my God-" you cried out.

You nearly choked on air when Steven slowly pulled out of your heat before slamming back into you.

"SHIT," you both cursed together before opening your eyes to look at each other.

"Faster, baby, I can take it I promise," you nodded, bringing your hands up to the sides of Steven's face. You even wrapped your legs around Steven's waist.

Steven took a deep breath before pulling out and rutting into you again, now establishing a pace. Which every thrust inside your cunt, Steven grazed your g-spot, effortlessly. It was as if you were built for his cock.

"Fuckin' love the way you fuck me, Steven," you mumbled as Steven set a brutal pace inside you.

Steven leaned down to press his forehead against yours as he continued to fuck you. Your breathing seemed to sync as he pulled out moan after moan from you.

His hands rested at the sides of your head but you could feel them inching closer to your neck.

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought of him choking you. Steven faltered in his thrusts in response. "Love you're squeezing me so hard I don't think I'm gonna last."

"Do it," you called out, tilting your head toward one of his hands.

"What?"

"I can see you thinking about it. Choke me, baby," your chest heaved as you felt your third orgasm of the night approaching.

Steven hesitated for a second before he stopped his thrusts and brought a shaky hand to wrap around your throat.

"I trust you, Steven," you spoke truthfully, "I want this too," you brought a hand to rest over Steven's briefly in reassurance.

Steven began roughly pounding you again with his hand now squeezing around your neck.

"Fuck yes, holy shit," you breathed out, feeling your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head with the newly added feeling of Steven's large hand wrapped around your throat. making you see stars.

Steven, although shocked by your immediate enjoyment of his secret guilty pleasure, took it as a sign to continue. So he trusted faster but made sure to maintain the same amount of pressure on your neck. He then got the idea to use his free hand to reach down and fiddle with your clit while fucking you.

You were instantly thrown over the edge. You came with as best a scream of Steven's name as you could manage with his hand still choking you. Chills ran down your spine while Steven slowed his thrusts inside you and waited for your orgasm to pass.

Eventually, you felt Steven release your neck and slowly begin to remove his cock from your cunt. You tightened your legs around his waist in protest. "Uh uh, we're not stopping till you come inside me, Steven," you demanded.

Steven loved the way you'd been taking control throughout all of this. He'd do anything you asked without a thought. "That's fine with me love," he nodded with a lopsided grin.

"Good," you deeply inhaled before using your hold on his waist to roll him onto his back, with you now straddling him.

You smiled at his shocked expression, which soon morphed into excitement. "You're bloody amazing," he grinned up at you.

You fought the heat that crawled onto your cheeks at his words and looked away with a smile. "Stop sweet talking me and fuck me, Steven."

He nodded quickly, "Yes ma'am." Steven slipped back into your entrance slowly.

But you grew impatient and fully sat down on his cock, loving how full he made you feel. Steven's cries met your ears soon after.

You grabbed his hands and placed each on one of your breasts before beginning to properly ride him. Steven heeded your directions and pawed at your chest while thrusting up to meet your hips.

His grunts soon became whimpers and whines as you rode him harder and faster, eager to make him cum.

"I'm almost there, love," he cried before sitting up and pulling you into his chest. His hands moved down to grip your waist where he guided you faster along his cock.

"There you go, Steven," you held his face against your own as his pace grew sloppy and his brown eyes slid shut.

"Cum for me, baby," you softly spoke with one last grind of your hips. Steven halted inside you with a broken sob of your name and filled you up with his warm release.

You moaned at the feeling of his spend coating your inner walls and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "You did so good Steven."

"I love you," his eyes finally opened while he panted, looking up at you with vulnerable eyes as if scared that you wouldn't feel the same after what you had just done together.

"I love you too," you replied without hesitation. You gently shoved Steven onto his back and followed suit, laying down on his chest as you gently removed his softening cock from inside you. You felt his hands move to wrap around your body soon after, bringing you further into his body.

Steven was the first to speak after some time. "I think you're the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time," he admitted, turning to look at you, not at all phased by the exhaustion in your features.

You leaned up to meet Steven in a heated kiss. He tightened his hold on you and met your lips with equal fervor. You pulled away reluctantly and looked down at his face with furrowed brows as you used a hand to trace his jaw and swollen lips. "Where have you been hiding my entire life, Steven Grant?"

"Haven't been hiding, love. I've just been here waiting for you."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

WHEW! This ABSOLUTELY got away from me holy shit. 6k words? yeah, not the plan at all. But hey it's definitely something considering that I haven't been able to sit down and write anything till tonight.

So I really do hope you enjoyed it.

(Lemme go look back through my requests and see what else I can cook up.)

#steven grant smut #moon knight smut #smut #fluff #marvel #imagine #oneshot #steven grant #moon boys #moon knight x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight #oscar issac smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

hqbaby · 1 year

Text

two — still winning

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.7k content. fwb, swearing

He doesn’t care. Why would he? He’s not your boyfriend or anything. You’re just two close friends who happen to fuck sometimes. You’re a grown woman. You’re allowed to go on dates with guys… who aren’t him.

“What is wrong with yer face,” Aran says. He reaches out to touch the corners of Suna’s lips. “Smile!”

The boy just scowls at him. “What are you doing?” he says, yanking his friend’s hands away from his face. “Don’t touch me.”

Aran bursts into laughter. “Yer so serious!”

“What’s goin’ on with ya?” Osamu prods, launching himself onto the couch between the other two boys. He pokes a finger to Suna’s cheek. “Ya break up with yer girlfriend or somethin’?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“If she’s not yer girlfriend, then why don’t ya tell us her name? Doesn’t matter if we know now, does it?”

Suna sinks deeper into the cushions and groans. “Will you guys just be quiet for once?”

“Such a grump.” Osamu sighs, slumping against the couch’s arm. “Anyway, what’re we doin’ over the break?”

“Kita and I are headin’ home before trainin’ starts,” Aran says. “I miss my bed.”

The gray-haired twin hums. “I’d go home too but I got that internship comin’ up.”

A pillow lands on his face.

“Quit braggin’ ‘bout yer internship.”

“I’m not!”

As the two of them bicker, Suna takes his phone out of his pocket. He pulls up your chat and reads your last message to him.

y/n the love of my life: nah i have a date

His eyes linger on your contact name. You set it up, obviously. The two of you (read: just you) were baking a cake in his kitchen (and failing miserably because his only contribution to the effort was distracting you with memes). You had asked him to send you a video he found of a bird freaking out when its owner “disappeared” behind a blanket because you wanted to show it to Oikawa and tell him that’s what he sounded like when Iwaizumi left him alone.

“Y/N L/N?” you gasped, reading the name he had you saved as. “Is that all I am to you?”

He burst out laughing when he saw how offended you looked. “Are you seriously upset?”

“Duh!” you said. “You’ve literally been inside me. And I’m just ‘Y/N L/N’ to you?”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

You glared at him. “I’m not letting you have any of the cake.”

“Good. I’m pretty sure I’d get food poisoning anyway.”

“Rin!”

He laughed again, holding his phone out for you to take. “Fine,” he said. “Change it to whatever you want.”

A devilish smile appeared on your face as you took the phone away and started typing. He tried to see what you were doing, but you just pulled the screen closer to you so he couldn’t look. “It’s a surprise,” you told him. “Can’t ruin it.”

“You type really slow.”

“Your dick is microscopic.”

“Hey!”

With one last look at your handiwork, you gave him back the phone. “There,” you said. “Now, it’s accurate.”

He glanced at his screen and smirked. “Gee, you got a big ego.”

“Yeah. Bigger than your dick.”

“Stop talking about my dick!”

He tries rationalizing your “date” in his head. It’s not like you’ve mentioned liking anyone, he doubts it’s anything serious. He figures that you just decided to make plans because he was supposed to have plans. That’s probably all there is to it. You’ve done this before. It’s not any different from the other times. It’s not like he cares anyway, he has no reason to.

“Where’s Atsumu?” Aran asks, pushing Osamu’s feet away as the boy tries to stick them in his face. “Thought he’d be here after his test.”

“He came home earlier to get dressed, said he was goin’ out tonight,” Osamu says, trying to get his feet in Suna’s face this time. “Dunno where he thinks he’s goin’ without us.”

“Probably has a girl.”

“Doubt it.”

“Ya never know. Some girls like an airhead.” Aran pretends to swoon, forcing himself on top of Osamu. “‘Oh, ‘Tsumu! Yer so dreamy! Have my babies!’”

The twin’s hand lands in his face, pushing him away. “Gross,” he says. “Well, if Suna can get a girlfriend, I guess ‘Tsumu can too.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend then.”

Osamu is rewarded with a firm kick to the groin.

“I’m tellin’ ya! It tastes great!” Atsumu insists. “Ya just haven’t tried it yet.”

Your face is a mix of both disbelief and amusement. “Uh-uh,” you say slowly, laughter threatening to spill from your lips. “I guess I’ll have to find out the next time I crave cereal with orange juice.”

“I’m serious! Don’t knock it ‘til ya try it!”

You laugh. “But why would I want to try it?”

He shakes his head and makes a faux serious face. “It’s in the pulp,” he explains, gesturing wildly as he tries to convince you that no, this is not a crazy person thing he’s saying right now. “Ya mix it in with the fiber and it just makes the flavor pop, y’know?”

The two of you burst into laughter.

The date’s been going well so far. You’d be lying if you said Atsumu’s the perfect gentleman because he isn’t. He talks while he eats and bulldozes through his meal without an effort to look proper in any way. He didn’t bring you to any of the nicer places on campus where the guys usually take girls that they want to impress, but the restaurant has its own charm. It’s cozy and warm and Atsumu talks to the owner of the place like she’s his own grandmother. He’s clearly a regular. And the food’s great too.

He’s fun to be around, you think. He’s, well, a regular boy with the usual quirks, but there’s a sweetness to him. Like you know he means well. What you see is what you get, and you don’t mind what you see at all.

“You’re on the volleyball team, right?” you ask when the conversation lulls as the two of you eat.

“Yup,” he tells you eagerly. “I plan on going to the Olympics.”

“Wow. That’s big.”

“It is. But it’s also what I’ve always wanted to do.”

You nod in understanding. “I have friends on the team. Your schedules get crazy sometimes, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they do, but we love it,” he says with a smile. “Who’re yer friends? I probably know ‘em.”

“Oikawa and Suna—I mean, I’m not really friends with Suna,” you correct yourself. “We’ve spoken a few times.”

“No kiddin’!” he exclaims. “They’re both great—just don’t tell ‘em I said that. Suna’s actually one of my best friends, went to highschool together and everythin’.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? What a coincidence.”

He chuckles. “Can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

You nod and smile, but you can believe it. You and Suna live in separate worlds most of the time. The only way you’re technically supposed to “know” each other is through Oikawa and you barely get involved with that part of your friend’s life anyway. It makes you wonder, though. What kind of person is Suna with his friends? Is he any different from the Suna that you know? Maybe you wouldn’t even recognize him.

The rest of the dinner goes on without a hitch and Atsumu drives you back to the dorms after.

“I had fun,” you tell him, digging into your purse for your key. “You shouldn’t have paid though. I’m the one who owes you.”

He waves it off. “Ya can always pay next time.”

The corners of your lips curl upward at the bold remark. “Next time?”

“Well, if that’s… y’know, somethin' ya wanna do,” he says sheepishly. “Would ya? Wanna do this again, I mean. Soon maybe.”

He looks at you like a little boy with hopeful eyes, an image that doesn't entirely match his rather large physique. It’s endearing. It’s sweet. And you decide that you might actually grow to like this boyish side of him a little.

“I have practice tomorrow,” you tell him. “And we have a team dinner after.”

His face falls slightly, trying to hide his disappointment. “Oh, sure. No, I get it.”

“How does coffee sound to you then?”

He lights up at that, face bursting with joy. “Sounds great,” he says. “Meet ya at the quad?”

You nod. “I’ll text you when I’m free.”

“Cool,” he says, still beaming. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” you say, reaching up to plant a kiss on his jaw. “Night, ‘Tsumu.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You unlock your door and step inside, waving at him one last time before closing the door behind you. You lean against the wall, a kaleidoscope of tiny butterflies already gathering in your stomach as you sink to the floor. It’s a new feeling. Interesting, but nice.

Buzz. Buzz.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone to find a text from Suna.

rin: how was the date?

you: pretty good actually

you: i’m seeing him again tmrw

rin: nice

Suna feels the urge to chuck his phone across the room. “Nice.” That was his great response. He groans, feeling like a bumbling fourteen-year-old again. He didn’t like being fourteen at all. -3/10, not an experience he’d ever recommend.

He looks down and reads your message again. You’re seeing the guy tomorrow. That’s soon. You just had your first date and you’re seeing him again. It must’ve been something special, Suna thinks, and it makes him feel sick.

His phone pings. Another text from you.

y/n the love of my life: can i come over?

He stares at your words for a while. For a moment, he’s convinced that his mind is playing tricks on him, that he’s just seeing what he wants to see. Then, he smirks, knowing that of course it’s real.

Somehow, he’s decided that, though the guy might be special, it means something that you’re going to end up in Suna’s bed anyway. He doesn’t know exactly what it means, but it means something. It means: Mystery Guy 0, Suna 1. He still comes first, he wins this time. And that’s all that matters.

It makes him feel better than it probably should, but he tries not to think about that. Not now at least.

notes. i'm gonna let u know rn that all the characters in this series are dumb college kids w big feelings and no idea what to do w any them. today is suna's day to be oblivious to his emotions but everyone's gonna get their turn eventually 😩 (also the spice starts next chapter hihihi)

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

552 notes · View notes

hiraeth-sonder · 4 months

Text

Long Once More - 再贪欢

Yan! OC x Reader

OC x Reader

You will always have him, no matter your vice, he will always be there

TW: Incest, manipulative and toxic behaviour, really badly written sex

//This isn't historically accurate at all and I have no idea what I wrote. If anyone has read the prequel on AO3 or Quotev, this is just a continuation. You don't have to read one or the other to get the whole plot but I can't tell you what to do sooo

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————春芯王—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

The role of Lord of Chunxin is not an easy one, perhaps made especially so by your being a woman. Times have been hectic in the recent year and with nosy officials poking in to question your marital status, you have taken it upon yourself to solve this issue.

The time has once again come for a myriad of eligible young lords and ladies to express their intention of courting, whether for reasons political or not, it is ultimately inevitable for you to receive some offers. Your suitors, of course, would have to remain in your estate and care until you came to a decision on their status. It is by no means a paltry position, for many acquiring Chunxin would mean enjoying the wealth of a merchant and trade hub as well as the strategic location that aided with its peace. No matter the fact that you are a young woman of comely features and skill to run a whole commandery on your own, there was bound to be some fool of a noble willing to try his hand at courting you.

To marry a man would mean that Chunxin would very likely be absorbed into whatever territory they ruled over, or perhaps worse still, they would deem themself more worthy to rule. It is very well said that their arrogance may cast the careful tranquillity you have crafted into the abyss, and as you have dedicated 8 years of your life into this commandery you call home, you would quite prefer for your hard work to not go to waste.

This period of receiving has a long time to end, yet you were keen to complete this phase of your life as soon as possible. To pick a suitable husband never has been such an arduous task.

Beneath the warm sunlight streaming through verdant leaves, a soft sigh escapes you as your older brother sits opposite with a tea set between the two of you. His eyes are closed, expression placid as he takes in a breath. The wind is gentle and brings about the fragrance of blooming flowers, the start of spring has arrived and it only seems fitting for the start of your toil to coincide with such a prosperous symbol.

Your attendant A’yan approaches you and hands over a bundle of letters, three in total and each more solemn than the last. She holds a hand to her chest as she bows, she affirms, “My lord, here are the offers we have received.”

Heavy in your hands, you flip through each scroll to take cursory glances, eyes scanning over surnames and territories. It mattered not their age, so long as it did not go above thirty five, you had no qualms. Though perhaps your focus was more on their date of arrivals, and knowing some of the families that have sent their responses, punctuality is to be expected and not suggested.

“How convenient that they should not arrive all at the same time, at the very least I may spend more time getting to know them,” Letting out an amused huff, your eyes look upon a certain family’s especially early arrival.

Your older brother picks up another of the scrolls, phoenix eyes narrowing in vexation for a moment before they return to his usual placidity. His voice is low, serene and sonorous, “How convenient indeed.”

As though sensing the ensuing conversation to be shared between family, A’yan excuses herself and moves to watch over the two of you from a distance. At this, you send him a knowing look as you put down the scroll in your hand.

“Will you promise to behave when they come around?”

Zhou Chen only cocks his head, long auburn hair bound loosely framing his alluring apertures along with the movement. He raises a brow and hums, “You make it sound as if I am cruel enough to burden others.” Amber eyes bearing a kind of aggrievedness as those long lashes flutter, akin to emphasising his hurt, “Meimei, do you truly think so low of me?”

You laugh at such a display, mirth pulling at your lips as you smile, “You always find something to gripe about whenever someone shows interest, am I wrong?”

His hand, slender with well-defined joints, reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the contact gentle and familiar as the cold touch of jade and gold press against your skin. You lean into his touch ever so slightly, more a sign on your accruing stress than anything else. A soft sigh escapes you, and for a moment your eyes meet.

“My dearest meimei is far too good for any person, it is only right that as your brother, I weed them out for you,” He murmurs, amity all but spilling from his words.

You breathe out, voice discordant and scraping out your throat, “Promise me, please.”

Your dearest brother, your only bastion of assuage before the chaos that is soon to emerge, whenever he speaks to you as such, it feels as though everything in this world shall resolve itself favourably.

“Anything for you.”

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————宋曦渊—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

Lord Song Ze, courtesy name Xiyuan, of Ningshan is a face you did not expect to see at your door first thing in the morning. Or rather you did not actually expect to see him at all.

The Song family were the descendents of a particularly pious monk, following more along the path of immortals than those of mortality. You could perhaps recount the last time you have seen a member of this family from your childhood of living among celestial beings, though you are not sure you have ever seen Xiyuan before.

The name is one that bears a kind of distance, one that has been cultivated through his almost ethereal appearance and deeds. When one thinks of benevolence, the image that is conjured is that of white robes and sweeping sleeves. Though the Song family has notoriously been above many of the conflicts that plague other commanderies and territories, so it is of course a surprise that they not only sent an offer, but also that the head of the family himself would so magnanimously offer himself. Their response was vague, promising only that a favourable member had taken it upon himself to make the journey to Chunxin and try his hand upon the sixth day of the month.

So you must be excused for the clear and evident shock on your face when a carriage pulls up in front of your estate only for a tall and slender immortal with a smile on his face to emerge.

“Lord Song, it is a pleasure to have you in our humble lands,” You bow as your eyes subtly shift to look for another that may indicate his being as political, as a figure to ascertain negotiations for another. Yet when no other steps down from the carriage, you take in a soft breath. “I believe this is our first time meeting.”

For a moment, you think you see a complicated emotion flash across aureate eyes, though it is quick to disappear as he urges you from your formality, “Please, no need for such courtesy, we are to get to know one another soon.”

“Of course. Then, would you be keen for some tea?”

Xiyuan nods, an elegant move that barely disturbs the strands of hair that drape upon his broad shoulders. He is so much taller than you, he must tip his head just to perceive you fully and you must raise yours, the stark difference only makes you feel small. Though you gesture for him to go ahead, when the rest of your servants come to take his luggage, he is quick to thank them, a sunny smile pulling across thin lips. His voice is light and gentle, if you must compare it then it should be to the first rays of light in the morning. Perhaps what you do not expect is that when they struggle to carry it, he reaches out and with inordinate ease, lifts what may be a few catties and instead offers to bring it to his room himself.

Throughout this entire process, you could only watch in awe as he does not show even a sign of struggle, maintaining the elegant gait as he accompanies you to your drawing room. It was almost horrifying to see, though you have little time to ponder the reason behind such ability when he has settled in his seat and is looking to you with an expectant gaze.

With a slight quirk of your lips, you inquire the reasoning behind his being here, “I am truly honoured that you have made the journey to Chunxin, though may I ask, why exactly did you choose to court me?”

Xiyuan takes a moment to answer, his expression tranquil as he gathers his thoughts. Then, he speaks, clear and true.

“You are a woman of repute, it is undeniable even in Ningshan that your ability and your generosity is rare among commandery lords.” His eyes persist firmly on yours, unwavering and stalwart. He takes a breath, and his eyes crinkle in slight mirth as that smile of his, clement as a spring’s day, remains upon his lips, “There is little I do not admire about you, and when time came around, I believed it a chance to speak with you.”

Your chest tightens, and though you respond, it comes out weak and gawky, not at all the refined lord you attempted to convey, “Well, it is very kind of you to say so. Before I may continue asking, do you have any concerns you wish to be addressed?”

He merely shakes his head, and gestures for you to resume your pseudo-interrogation, a notion you readily accept.

“I have a duty to Chunxin and so I worry that should we get married, my presence would be required most in Ningshan.”

Though Ningshan was only a journey taken by a few days, you wished not for an event where you would be forced to watch your people suffer from afar. You may be unsure of the manner in which the Song family treats spouses, however there is one thing that you are certain and that is, becoming the wife of a person as important as the Lord of Ningshan would mean dedicating your prowess and time to it, leaving Chunxin.

You would not take it, you had made that clear in your soul the moment you had to send that announcement to the world. In your heart, you already knew the answer you would receive, you merely wished that you would be proven wrong.

“I understand, and I must apologise but as my wife, you would be required to remain by my side,” Xiyuan’s response is as you expected, a slight mournful glint in his eyes.

Yet still, he is swift to reassure you, “However, I can promise that Chunxin will remain entirely under your dominion, we have no intention of absorbing or conquering your lands.”

At that, you can only let out a soft sigh, “That is a relief, I will admit.”

Though your words said so, internally you have likewise expected such a concept. The Song family would not engage in conflict unnecessarily, even if it should benefit them. You do not have much else to ask him if you had to be honest, your main worry out of the way, so you merely hold your teacup to your lips, sipping in slow practised bouts as you attempt to think of conversation.

“Do you have siblings?” Hesitantly, you broach the silence that befell the two of you.

He responds, another smile upon his lips, “A younger brother, I believe he should be around your age.”

“That’s nice, I should like to meet him one day.”

Just as stiff as it started, it ends. Truly, it was difficult to find something to talk about when you knew little of each other, made especially inconvenient by the strict courtesy that bound the two of you. Taking another sip of your tea, the floral liquid tinging your tongue. As his arrival had been so early in the morning, you had yet to break your fast and so in an admittedly, utterly embarrassing moment, your stomach grumbles. The sound is like a knife through the air, horrifically obvious with no method to hide its journey.

Though your thin face attempts to retain some of your dignity, your eye twitches just the slightest. Yet just from a minute glance, Xiyuan does not seem to scorn your break of propriety. Rather, that smile of his softens, melting into something much fonder, as though looking upon a beloved.

“I must ask, do you enjoy pastries?”

“Yes, I…” You are not sure how best to put together your response. There are a myriad of reasons yet the one you decide to share, as well as the one bearing some truth, was one that seemed to imply unwell. Admitting to an odd shyness, you let a smile creep up in an attempt to lighten the mood, “They help me with my energy throughout the day.”

He appears pleased at this response, and though you wondered the reason for such for a moment, it is quickly dispersed when he retrieves a small box wrapped in fabric. You recognise the manner of wrapping, the colour and the very wood of the container. How could you not? Whether by pure coincidence or scheme, he has managed to purchase pastries from your favourite shop.

“Well, if I am not overstepping, I have brought some for you.” He offers the gift to you, the vessel almost dwarfed in his hands.

You have little choice but to accept, taking it into your hands and ignoring the slight brush of contact you share. “Thank you.”

You had fully intended to partake of them later, however by his gesture and anticipating look, you decide to abide so, if only to fulfil his request and your insolent stomach. Unwrapping the fabric with careful fingers, you open the box to reveal delicate spheres dusted with flour, glutinous rice flour encasing a sesame peanut filling. Once again, your favourite. As elegantly as you can, you pinch the ball between your fingers and take a bite, sweet yet tastefully salty, it more than satisfies your stomach when a soft hum escapes you.

Now fully aware of the sound you made, your eyes shift to Xiyuan only to find him gazing upon you, almond eyes all but seeping his solicitous amusement. With his shoulders squared and his posture ramrod perfect, it almost made a quaint sight, that a person could truly be so kind.

Just as you place the rest of the pastry down and open your mouth to speak, you are interrupted by the door sliding open, a familiar figure blocking the sunlight that enters as he stands tall.

“Lord Song,” Your brother’s voice is placid, unlilting and impregnable of emotion.

The man in question merely smiles, not a shred of vexation or annoyance present, “Lieutenant General Zhou, I had not expected that you would be here.”

“Lord Zhou is my sister, I naturally came to check on her,” He answers. The sentiment behind his placidity perhaps enhanced by the natural monotone of his accent.

Though he says as such, he merely takes a glance at you before keeping his attention on Xiyuan. In his hands are a bundle of official documents rather than his beloved qin, so you can only assume that he fully intended to camp the rest of the day in your office either asleep or actually doing work. This quick stop of his must have been impulsive rather than any well-thought out scheme.

Before he may take his leave, Xiyuan invites him in with a lilting hum, “Do come in, I would like to get to know you better as well, your reputation precedes you.”

Your brother only glances at you, and when you send him a minute nod, he obliges. With an elegant gait marred only by the weariness of work, he takes the seat opposite of your guest’s, regarding him with a cool gaze as he speaks slow and practised.

“Yours as well, I hope that should my meimei decide to let you court her, you will not mind my presence.”

“I would not dare. Oftentimes, a brother is as good as a father,” ever the kindly soul, he reassures him.

A small huff escapes you, this good brother of yours may very well be the only male relative you had left. He who was raised by your mother, and you who was whisked away by immortals, neither of you even knew what happened to your father let alone whether he would be as obliging as Zhou Chen. Still, you keep your expression pleasant as your brother seems to think of some matter to discuss.

“I have heard that you are exceptionally talented in playing the xiao, though I am more interested in your supposed ability with the qin. It is quite prodigious to master both,” He hums, long lashes lowered as his gaze sweeps to the man’s side.

“You flatter me, surely my ability could not match up to yours,” Xiyuan deflects the compliment, instead gesturing towards your brother with a kind smile. As naturally as breathing, more praise seems to tumble out, “Is it not true that you can hear a wrong note even in a symphony of instruments?”

Just like that, you may very well be effectively barred from understanding the rest of the conversation. Terms far too technical for you to hope to understand and spoken with enthusiasm far more vigorous than you have ever seen from your serene brother, you could only hide behind your tea and pastries, hoping that this conversation will not drag too far into the future.

Lying beneath your covers as your head rests upon your ceramic pillow, you find that you have been very rudely awakened from meagre sleep due to reasons unknown. Though you have attempted to wrestle your conscious back to restful slumber, your body appears to resist any and all attempts, merely maintaining that sore strain that seems to plague your form upon awakening.

The sun has yet to peek its head from above the morning mist, the birds yet to sing and with little to do, you force yourself to rise. A breeze of cool wind caresses your skin, and it takes everything within you to not retreat back to warmth, instead dressing yourself as respectfully and warmly as possible. As you step out of your room, careful to not make much noise, you let your feet carry you to wherever it desires, eventually stopping outside the a courtyard of youthful pinks and picturesque reds, the plum blossom tree that stands tall acting as a canopy for an unexpected visitor. Though servants milled about to catch glimpses of him, he still appeared a lonely pillar.

“The morning dew has yet to drip and yet you have already awakened.”

He turns to you, a kind of wistfulness in his eyes that returns to the depths of his sunlit eyes as you approach him. There is nothing to deter you, so you come to his side as the two of you remain beneath the tree’s grace. The silence that had once been stiff and stilted, has become more tranquil in such a setting, a context that requires no conversation of grace but rather cherished the fleeting moment of respite.

“Had you remained awake throughout the night?” He inquires, gentle yet concerned.

You only shake your head, your voice still hoarse from disuse, “I could not return to sleep, and you?”

A tightlipped smile appears across his face, though it did not detract from his visage, he nods.

“May I ask what you are doing here?”

“This tree merely reminds me of old memories, when I was younger and more naive.”

There is that smile once more, bearing a kind of emotion distantly related to that gleam just a day ago. You have yet to clue in on what exactly his intentions truly are, to offer himself on a platter when he must surely have options much more willing to be Madam Song than you. Your attendants could find not hide nor hair of intent, nothing to leverage and nothing to use. Song Xiyuan is a man you could not understand at this very moment.

Why did he look at you so? For what reason did he descend if only to make connections with your paltry Chunxin?

“I had this tree grown here in honour of my master, I am unable to visit him as often so knowing there is some part of him I can pay homage to is…” Your gaze averts towards the ground, and even you are not sure what, who, you are trying to avoid looking at. Still, you manage to whisper out, “Comforting.”

“The immortal Xu Yuanzhen, yes?”

His reveal of information, a detail that only your most intimate knew of you takes you more than just off guard. Turning to him, it is unease that pumps through your veins and rushes to your head. For him to have acquired such an aspect about you, there was little explanation for retrieval.

“You would be right,” You breathe out, your eyes wide and your chest tight.

Still, you manage to continue, “How do you know that?”

He glances away for only a moment, only a second before they redirect to you. His hands clasp together in a mock of nerve as he took in a breath. When he speaks, finally speaks and removes you from your disquiet, it is quiet.

“I fear that I may have been keeping some matters secret from you, but I suppose it is only right I tell you.”

In an attempt to maintain your composure, you meet his gaze. He starts his story, speaking with a soothing cadence as he recalls a time long gone, “When I was younger, my uncle took me to a conference and it was there that I met this girl. She was younger than me and was holding the hand of a man with pale apertures and garbed in white robes.”

“She cared not for my status as the Song family heir, and though she was shy at first, it took little for us to start talking.” A kind of mirth tinges his words upon this reveal, fondness practically overfilled.

“I had little contact with other children, and the time I spent with her was exhilarating. When we had to leave, she gave me the string bracelet she had around her wrist and made me promise to play with her again.”

From his wide sleeves and many layers, you see it. The thin little string of dull yellow peeking from behind robes of white, tightly entwined around his wrist and pulling memories from a time you thought lost to you.

“I never saw her again, not when her master rarely descended nor my family’s preference for isolation. I was ready to spend the rest of my life unbound, if only because she had taken my heart with her all those years ago,” He admits with a kind of sardonic irony, one made only more wry by the soft smile on his lips.

“When the news came of Chunxin’s incident, I had an inkling that it could have been you.”

He turns to face you fully, that wistful gleam now one you recognise as sentiment. It is now that you may behold him, the ethereal Lord Song deemed a man too kindly to be mortal, is only so, so very human. Peach blossom eyes that have beared weariness unknown to so many, the subtle wrinkles upon thin lips, the unevenness of his lashes. Human, so wonderfully human and so horrifyingly adoring of you.

“Xiyuan…” Your voice seems to betray you, breathless and stupefied.

For a moment, his hands move as though they sought to hold yours within them, yet even that is suppressed. He pleads softly, anymore and he would have been begging, “Please, just call me Song Ze.”

“I have waited for you for 17 years,” His confession is quiet, as every part of his longing has been yet still contained an ardour that finally breached the surface of the abyss called time. “I do not know how much longer I can wait now that I know you have always been so close.”

“I will ask your brother for permission, if not I will wait outside Lianyue Pavilion for your master’s.”

Under the falling leaves of the perennial plum blossom tree, Xiyuan’s eyes of sunlit gleam. You step closer towards him, allowing yourself to bask in his presence as the sheer attention he gives you, so freely offers to you, almost makes you scared. That though his very presence, a bubble of allaying sandalwood and incense, should bring about some kind of solace, your head only squeezes in ache.

“You barely know anything about me, you would find me appalling if you knew what I have done.”

He shakes his head, and when he finally takes your hands in his, you find that they are extraordinarily warm, like sunlight shining upon your skin. He only smiles, “But it is still you, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life learning everything about you, if you will only let me.”

A part of you wonders why exactly your heart tightens at the sight of his paradisiacal vulnerability.

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————陈伯裕—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

By the fourth day, it seems the entirety of Hedong has arrived at your estate. Stuffed into a singular carriage, the whole Chen family had been all but ecstatic, rushing out of the little vessel to swarm you and your brother. Perhaps if this was another noble family, you would have been more inclined to accept the affection, however, every single one of them just had to be freakishly robust.

Before you can be questioned by the lord and lady, you greet their three children with a small bow and light smile, “Boyu, Zhongyuan, Jiaxiang.”

It is just as you finish your pleasantries that Madam Chen scoops you into her embrace as she wraps her arms around you, leaving you so breathless that you can only manage a breathy and wheezing, “Lord Chen, Madam Chen.”

“Have you lost weight? Oh look at you, it must have been so hard handling everything on your own,” She notes, her voice tinged with concerned as she pulls away, soft hands placed on your face as she scans over you

Lord Chen, an older man with smile lines and crow's feet decorating his face, only enhances those features when he points out their gifts, “Not to worry, we brought some pastries just for that.”

“Oh, and we just couldn’t help bringing some extra things, just a little bit though.”

While you are all but smothered by the two, practically engulfed if you will, you notice your brother likewise receiving the same treatment by the three Chen children. Wrapped up in a hug by the eldest son and the youngest daughter, the middle son was the only one who abided by the rules of propriety and greeted him as usual.

“Yijin!” The sound of a boyishly charming voice rings through your ears, his words enhanced through the natural draw of his youth.

Another one sounds, a young girl’s playful tone ringing through the air as clear as bird song, “Zhou-ge!”

“Shifu.” The last is controlled, a young man’s calm lilt among the chaos.

Equally helpless to the vigour that is the Chen family, the two of you can only let yourselves be asked of everything under the sun and have your ears rambled off. Still, you take it all with a pleasant gleam in your eyes and liveliness befitting such people. When the revelry dies down just the slightest, you have one of your attendants, Xue’er, show the family to their rooms while A’yan settles their bountiful luggage. Lord and Madam Chen drag your brother off at the first notice, asking of this and that while their younger children bicker and tease.

Though, there seems to be one exception to your arrangements. As the carriage departs and the dust settles, you are left completely and utterly alone with the little tyrant of the south, boyish Chen Boyu. Illuminated by bright sunlight, you must look up to meet his gaze, soft brown peach blossoms eyes bearing joy and gaiety, the corners of his lips deep with a smile.

When you look upon him, it is hard to determine the emotions you feel. Though there is one that you can accurately pin down in that labyrinth you may call a head.

An emotion distantly related to playfulness tinges your voice as you hum, “I see you’ve decided to try again.”

“I won’t be giving up anytime soon,” He responds, equally spirited as his voice takes on a pitch just the slightest higher.

At this, you let out an amused snort. With mock aggrieve, you roll your eyes as you whack him, the back of your hand being met with the musculature of his arm.

“You certainly have more noteworthy competition this year.”

Boyu, ever the dramatic, puts a hand to his chest as an offended expression takes form onto his face. Deep eyebrows raised in shock and eyes wide, there is still a smile on his lips despite this, a cheeky lilt to his words, “But compared to them, surely I’m much better?”

“If you want to compete with Lord Song and Qiugu’s general, go ahead,” You bite back, the corners of your lips tugging upwards.

“They don’t have what we have though,” With his musing, he turns away from you. Though it is one that is brief, a moment of drama for an otherwise playful moment. “A bond.”

On instinct, you only shake your head and let out a soft sigh, your eyes squeezed in amusement as you walk ahead of him, at least not before turning back to direct him to his room.

“Go rest up, we still have time before dinner.”

Your relationship with Boyu is not one you say you dislike, nor one you absolutely adore. While you are appreciative for the aid and protection that allying with Hedong has given you, given that you had very little armed forces, there has been a profuse shame welling within your very form since the day you met.

You have never been unaware of his feelings for you, the adoration that seemed to spring from his very being the moment he laid his eyes upon yours. One look and he had suddenly turned from the confident young warlord to a stuttering blushing mess, it was illogical and irrational. Six years of collaboration and his attempts to court you, spend more time with you and get to know you, it granted a relationship akin to bosom friends yet that was only your perception.

You bore no possibility for affection, no room in your heart for him and for all your cruelty, you could not break such news that you could not see him as such. A political marriage may very well be an option but you knew he desired affection, some kind of companionship you could not give. It is because of that very fact that you worry what may come of this moment.

When you return to your office, you find your brother waiting for you, his pipe in hand as languid tendrils of smoke escape his rosy lips. His eyes are closed, but when he hears your steps upon the wooden floors, he directs his gaze to you. There is a weariness to his features, dark circles beneath his eyes and yet that did not detract from his beauty. Approaching his seating by your desk, you pour yourself a cup of herbal tea.

“Why do you look so tired, hm?” You ask, sending him a side glance from the corner of your eye.

He only hums, voice low and steady, “I was up late finishing official documents.”

As you place down your cup, you raise a brow as a concern tinges your voice. From outside and through the window, you see Jiaxiang and Xue’er chatting away, the rest of the family very clearly not resting and rather seemingly, having managed to drag Xiyuan into conversation. Though you are unable to hear exactly what is being said, you can hear snippets of praise being exchanged.

“Do you want to take a nap? We have about two shichen before dinner.”

“No,” He sighs, closing his eyes as he takes another inhale from his pipe. The sweet smell of tobacco fills the room, broad shoulders rolling back before his long lashes flutter open, a detached gleam in his eyes as he looks out to the busy courtyard. He only notes with steady lilt, “They won’t let me anyways.”

Your heart does not quite ache for your brother, but more so tightens. You have seen the kind of work he must do, to the point that he had apparently brought it with him when helping a friend at a matchmaking session. Rest did not come to him easily, not even when in your estate. Your brows raise in helplessness, shutting the window before rising to shut your office doors.

“Sleep. If I say I won’t take guests, they won’t push it,” Humming, you take his hand in yours.

Zhou Chen only lets out a soft breath, though he is quick to lean his head against your shoulder, his chest rising and descending in rhythmic pattern before eventually, the only thing that fills your ears is your brother’s exhales.

Dinner is at present, an event hosting the Chen family, you and your brother. Small tables arranged in perfectly linear fashion, evenly spaced and in fine wood. Atop each and every single one were seasonal dishes as prepared by the kitchens, planned ahead of time down to the very presentation. Though you have yet to partake in the meal,

“This really is quite generous of you to give so many things, I cannot possibly return your favour.”

“It's nothing, we aren’t lacking anything!” The older woman is quick to dismiss your excessive humility, though it is as if a new thought springs to her mind as she brings up a sleeve and a knowing gleam glints in her tawny eyes, “Although maybe we are lacking a daughter in law.”

Quicker still, she corrects her previous statement, “Even if you don’t marry our Boyu, it's still nice to see you.”

“Mooomm, don’t say that!” Jiaxiang whines with clear mock aggrievedness.

Lord Chen only sighs with the kind of resigned fondness every father has for his daughter, “She has such good options, don’t pressure her.”

Your gaze shifts between all of them, briefly lingering to make contact with each member before it eventually lands upon a pair of brown eyes, even still filled with fondness that uneases you. You still do not know how you will tell him, whether you will tell him. You turn away, bringing your tea up to drink as your sleeve conceals your expression. He does not look away, but does so when the conversation turns to focus on your brother.

“Yijin, how have you been?”

Zhou Chen hums, his voice less severe and softer, yet still that gentle smile upon his lips bore a distance unknown by others, “Good, I’ve been busy with work.”

“With the way you keep coming over here, we thought you abandoned us,” Lord Chen laughs, a hearty sound that comes from his lungs.

Lowering his eyes, there appears to be a contrition in his next words, his Adam's apple bobbing as he speaks.

“Forgive me, my sister has little confidants.”

His admittance has a few eyes turning to you, that burning feeling of pity brought upon your form as you vaguely hear Madam Chen’s sympathies fall from her lips. You do not quite understand why he has to mention your lack of advisers, though you suppose there was no other reasonable explanation for a lieutenant general to maintain such costly travels. Still, though you move to say something, you are interrupted by a condoling voice.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Boyu is all but swift to prevent your rueful formalities, bringing up a hand as a blithe smile appears across his lips, “If I could, I would have rushed over to help.”

“How could we? Ai, we all heard about the incident and yet look at the town, everything’s back to normal,” Lord Chen notes, and though you had not wished to say it, that pride he has in his voice, it would make one believe you were his daughter.

With a tender-hearted quirk of her lips and her gentle tone, Madam Chen is the last and yet the most salient of the three to speak, “You must have worked very hard.”

“So don’t worry about taking Yijin for a month or two, we still have the others.”

A kind of excessive sentiment seems to fill your chest, an emotion you are only most familiar with another. It was quite common for your brother to throw all caution to the wind and come to Chunxin for long periods of time, extending discussions that usually lasted a few days to weeks, dragging diplomatic visits from weeks to months. As if he had no obligations to fulfil back in Hedong, though you have always worried and though he has always reassured you, hearing such comfort from them was perhaps more than you needed.

Nodding, you thank them and thankfully, dinner passes without much issue. Albeit, perhaps that is a statement only applicable to the unique situation of the Chen Family. For instead of having to replace four low desks and multiple candleholders, only one has been smashed in the ensuing mayhem that is sure to happen with them. You can only thank the gods that your brother did not bring his qin, lest you find yourself comforting him on his deescalation methods.

With the moonlight shining upon your courtyard and the cool spring wind blowing, the family has since retired to their quarters in preparation for slumber. Your attendants likewise have been dismissed, sent to rest early while you take a walk around the estate. Your footsteps are light, the only sound that came from your movement coming from long robes fluttering along. Each room that surrounded the courtyard dimmed, low candlelight illuminating from within before eventually being snuffed. There is only one room that remains at the very end, your office, doors shut and candles flame put out yet at the very front are a pair of conversing figures.

The two are of similar heights, the one just slightly taller bearing more visible musculature while the shorter of the two bore a more regal physique, no less stalwart than one or the other. They speak in low tones, and from your admittedly distant position, you are scarce to hear only bits and pieces of their conversation. Boyu speaks, posture much tenser than you have ever seen as your brother pulls his pipe away from his lips.

Low in your ears and bearing a vulnerability so easily come to him, the young heir entreats his closest friend, “Will you grant me your blessing to court your sister?”

Clouds of smoke leave his flushed lips, his eyes closed as he takes a breath. His lord waits expectantly, to no avail, for your brother remains steadfast in his notions of your suitors, no matter their identity and no matter their abilities.

“No.”

Zhou Chen turns to him, those eyes that once bore amity glazes over, freezing to a cool mirror as he speaks. His voice maintains his usual monotone lilt, and it is such that you can tell that this was a decision he has made long ago.

“You excel in war and combat, yet when asked to settle civil matters you are unable to be discrete nor courteous.”

“Have you not noticed how every discussion in the household always turns to a screaming match or violence?” He raises a brow, ignoring the way Boyu attempts to stammer out a response. He continues, “Will you bring my sister into such a place?”

His next inquiry is further still loaded, the dulcet tones of his voice growing ever agitated at the edges of his words, “Though Chunxin has remained safe from invading territories despite the raging war of succession due to our intervention, what happens when you must aid my sister with laws and merchantry?”

“Will you come to me, your lieutenant generals?”

He takes another drag of his pipe, the weariness he has been burdened with now all the more visible under such a situation. His shoulders rise and fall, descending to forcibly calm himself lest he acts impromptu. His friend does not interrupt him, yet still his figure that had been hopeful now has slumped ever so slightly with each new dig your brother brings up.

“There will come a day where she will face public contention, when the time comes, will you defend her?” Your brother asks, the question nonplussed yet seemingly targeted. For this is the inquiry that has his eyes, beautiful amber which reveal nothing of the internal tempest that must rage within him seep just the hint of it.

Quick to answer, such a request is nothing short of obvious to the young man, “Of course I would!”

“Even above the threat of Hedong’s collapse?”

Yet, this last query is the one that stumps Boyu, and to no wonder. For someone who grew up in the rivers and towns of Hedong, to protect the place that loves him or to protect the woman he adores, it becomes the ultimatum only your brother would think to spring upon him. It is cruel, yes, but for men who rule, it is necessary.

When he does not respond, Zhou Chen only places a hand on his shoulder and tips his head, long brindle hair falling to act as a curtain, concealing his delicate apertures from your gaze. Though you still manage to hear his last words to his lord.

“You are a good general, but I will not let my sister marry a man who cannot devote his very being to her. Good night, Chen Fu.”

At this, he glides away from the man, paced and even steps that bring his form to you. His eyes soften and he pats your head with a gentle hand before he pulls away, disappearing into the estate with nothing but a glance. Your friend seems to notice your presence then, his eyes lightening up and his posture straightening just the slightest. Yet, he kept that defeat with him. You approach him, despite everything you find yourself unsure on how to comfort him. Stood so close, you can smell just the hint of his scent, fresh and clean, it hurts your head.

You keep your voice soft, calling for him with a tone hushed as your brows raise in concern, “Boyu.”

“Do you think he hates me?” He asks, just as quietly if not more so. It is as if any more and he would have been tried for public disturbance.

Shaking your head, a soft sigh only escapes you, “You know he doesn’t.”

“I just don’t…” For once, genuine and actual forlorn stains his very being. His usually squared shoulders almost hunched in dismay and his voice soft, so much softer than you were used to. Thick brows furrowed in worry, the hint of a glassy quality seems to form over his bronze eyes, the plump of his cheeks rosy from the wind and emotion. His voice loses that usual higher pitch, “Understand why he’s never approved of me.”

A strained expression comes across your visage, your hand resting on his forearm as you make a comparison, “See it this way, if he tried to court Jiaxiang for so long without success, you’d be a little iffy too, right?”

His face twists into dismay, then disgust before finally landing on exaggerated understanding. He nods yet it does little to actually lighten his mood. Boyu’s desire for your brother’s acknowledgement is understandable, yet it is his consistency and persistence that worries you. Though you have never actually expressed it, he picks up on your palatable concern.

“You’re right, it's just that he’s important to you, and he’s your older brother. So I want to be doing this right,” Confessing, a helpless smile tugs at his lips.

A reticence falls upon the two of you, and in the distance you hear the soothing melody of a xiao, humming a gentle tune that merely appeared sonorous in such a moment. Though you have turned away from each other, and though you had intended to leave the conversation in fear of buried sentiments being brought up, he once again takes the opportunity to make you face your unspoken regrets.

“Will you be honest with me?” That boyish voice has long lost its higher pitch, and you wonder when exactly you started missing it.

“In our six years of knowing each other, have you ever thought of me romantically?”

You should have seen this moment coming, you should have known that you would have to eventually tell him. To lie to him that you have and yet to turn around and deny his affections would be far crueller than to tell him the truth, and yet still the truth was but a stone in your throat, lodged within and scraping to vomit out. Meeting his gaze with a glance you are not sure is kindly or forthcoming, you let yourself speak.

“You are dear to me, but to call it love is…” Your voice trails off into the night wind, doing everything in your power to keep your throat from closing up and to maintain the composure you tried so hard to display. Yet when you look at him, look at those wide brown eyes so filled with youthful ardour, you are just unable to. “I’m sorry, maybe I’m the problem here.”

“For all the years we’ve known one another, I’ve always felt this gnawing guilt,” You admit though a cracking voice, the weight of such a burden finally lifted yet it was not a relief that flooded, but rather more contrition that had no rational reason to exist within you.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It's okay,” Boyu insists, he shakes his head as his eyes, wide and just the slightest teary, seem to bear the determination he has always had. “You don’t have to love me back.”

“You never had to love me back.”

He pleads, desperate and all too willing, far too willing, “If you’ll just let me stay by your side, I’m okay with that too.”

“As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.”

Staring at him, the truth of your relationship has finally come to light, yet it is his devotion that remains steadfast. For how much of it is true, you do not know and you only fear that it is far more truthful than any facade you have played.

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————蔡奉汐—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

The third and last suitor arrives late into the seventh day, there is no rumble of carriage wheels that announces his arrival, no thumping of luggage against wood, the only sign of life is the howling wind.

You are resting in your room, eyes scanning over the last remains of the pile of documents once amassed in your office. The skillful plucking of a qin fills your ears, low notes strum to perfection from just a few footsteps away. Zhou Chen plays with a languidity, almost lazy despite the dulcet melody that he plucked. Your eyes, which yearn for rest yet remain awake in accordance to the brain, flutter between open and close. Words of ink seemingly meld together into a blurry mess, yet you continue.

There is a knock at your door, a crisp interruptance that has your head snapping towards it. The tune stops just as abruptly, and A’yan shifts the door open just the slightest, enough for you to acknowledge her presence and for her voice to travel in.

General Cai Fengxi, The Devourer of Qiugu has arrived.

Garbed in dark robes and holding the reins of an even darker horse, this man that stood before you bore nothing else beyond a small pouch and the cloak around his shoulders. With not even the moonlight to illuminate his apertures, the sharp and almost gaunt features you could make out had almost sent a chill down your spine. The general’s eyes almost seemed to glow, a deep gold set in pale skin and peeking from behind pin-straight hair, still as dead waters as A’yan guides the horse towards the stables.

“General Cai, it is an honour to have you here,” Your welcome is stilted and stiff as though to pair with your rigid bow. You notice how needly his fingers are, skin stretched taut over the bones. When you rise to meet his eyes, you find that he has yet to move, expression forbidding. Still, you gesture for his entrance, “Your room has already been prepared, please let me show you to your quarters.”

It is only then that he shows some signs of response, following your steps as his footfalls land inaudibly. You would dare say it appeared more so as gliding than walking. His very presence loomed from behind you, intimately feeling the heavy burden of his severe regard upon your form. In an attempt to spurn such a notion from your mind, you open your mouth to speak.

“Was the journey from Qiugu difficult?”

“It was fine,” He responds, curt and low. A deep bass that seems to rumble from within his chest, though quiet you could distinctly feel it in your bones.

You send him a polite smile, “That is good.”

There is no additional effort made to continue such a stiff conversation, not when even your own eyelids have been threatening to shut down against your wishes, let alone what the general must be feeling after making the lone journey. When you arrive to his room, you take it upon yourself to open the door for him, yet he merely looks upon you. You do not know how best to respond, yet it is by instinct that you continue.

“Have a good rest, I shall come visit you in the morning,” You smile once more, bowing before taking your leave.

Scarce to notice his entrance, your return to your room is swiftly granted and one that is very much preferred. A sigh escapes you, and your brother, kindly as he is, remains in his languid seat. As though one with a slug, you slump over and make your way to his side, resting your head on his lap facefirst as you close your eyes.

“I assume the general has arrived,” He hums, voice soft as his fingers remove the pins and stick from your hair.

Through mumbled words and fabric, you are surprised he still managed to discern your sentences. “Might as well have not arrived at all, he only said two words to me.”

“And here I thought men these days would have basic manners at the very least..”

You turn your head to face him, shifting your body so you could behold that face which women envy and men covet. Fine apertures still placid with that hint of fond aggrievedness, your brother’s attempt at cool tranquillity surely did not disguise the snide undertones.

“What are you implying?” Your brow raises as your voice takes on a derisive tinge.

Zhou Chen responds, speaking as though his answer was the most natural concept to humanity, “That men are merely beings of simple lusts, and that my meimei deserves better than that.”

Letting out a yawn, you squeeze out a stray tear as your voice fights to remain audible. It is hard to, especially when one wishes for nothing more than to slumber after a long day and a guest as startling as the general. Still, you think you catch your brother’s sweet laugh when you manage a response.

“If you keep this up, the only person you’ll ever approve of is yourself.”

When morning comes, you are informed that the general has yet to awaken, and that no matter what is done, he will not rise. This news does not surprise you, the ride from Qiugu to Chunxin is approximately 15 days worth of travel, and based on his appearance, he must have rode ceaselessly and through the nights. Waving off their concerns, you assure them of his well being and instead have them call to inform you when he does.

Your brother and his student, Zhongyuan, have been promptly kidnapped by Jiaxiang since his awakening, which leaves you to entertain your three suitors. Dressed in lighter robes for the day, half your hair is bound in a bun and put together with a simple hairstick, suitable for a casual outing that you may hopefully partake in today. You plan to bring the general out to see the town, perhaps try to spark some conversation that will not start and end dreadfully.

As you make your way to the guests’ quarters, you notice Xiyuan and Boyu talking, discussing some matter of thing that even you are not sure pertains to what. Bearing similar heights, you find that the two of them bear an uncanny likeness. Not in visage but rather in bearing, the kind of people who attract admiration effortlessly. They walk into a room and immediately the only kind of attention they receive is kindly.

With a princely gait and visage to match such a form, you have found yourself wondering how exactly Lord Song has yet to marry despite his supposed devotion to you. Likewise with Boyu, boyishly handsome and well-to-do, there was little to dislike. Their very presence in the courtyard brings people to them, passing servants taking their time to stare and talk, with poorly hidden smiles and flushed ears. You only wonder what virtues you may be able to extract from the general.

Approaching the pair, you greet them with a slight bow of your head, “Boyu, Xiyuan, good morning.”

“Good morning to you as well,” Xiyuan greets in response, his voice forbearing with the lilts of his sentence.

In contrast, Boyu only chirps, “Morning!”

You inform the two of them of your upcoming schedule for the third suitor, a tad more occupied as compared to theirs due to discussions of military provisions and arrangements. With a regretful tone, you squeeze out a strained smile as you could only apologise for the inconvenience.

“No worries, we’ll see each other for dinner, right?” The younger man asks, with hopeful eyes as even his companion appears to join in the invite.

“Yeah,” You smile, a huff of breath escaping you when his eyes light up. Keeping your tone fairly cordial despite your amusement, you reassure them, “If we venture out, I’ll come visit when I return.”

Shaking his head, Xiyuan merely responds, “Do not force yourself, you must take care of yourself.”

“Of course.”

It is then that you finally notice a figure looming from behind you, a shadow cast above your vision, and perhaps it is also by Boyu’s slight adjustment of his eyes that has you realising exactly who it is that was behind. Your feet swivel around to face the general, his form still severe as last night. Under the sunlight, you could make out the harsh contours and angles of his face, tall nose and sharp willow eyes. You met his eyes for just a moment, looking down upon you yet the very burden it placed was momentous, a sinner in the oceanic depths.

Ever kindly, Xiyuan greets him with a bow and a pleasant expression, sunny eyes squeezed and hands put together, “General Cai, it is good to see you awake.”

“If you didn’t get up, I think we would’ve just taken her out ourselves,” Boyu jokes, his puerile tone making it only all the more light-hearted.

“Ah…” A breath escapes you, perhaps a sign of your hesitance. Yet, the general does not move, remaining perfectly still as he awaits your input. Involuntarily, you feel that maladroit laugh appear on your lips, “General, could this one perhaps–”

“Fengxi.”

You had not heard wrong last night, what you thought was possibly too low, too harsh for human voice, reaches your ears once more. He speaks as though biting, words escaping from abyssal maws to behold for mortal perception.

When you do not react, he speaks once more, “Call me Fengxi.”

“Of course, Fengxi, would you like to join me for a trip around town?” Quickly recovering from the blunder, you finally make your offer with an outstretched arm and open hand, an invitation.

Yet rather than actually responding, he merely takes your hand, cold bony fingers wrapping around yours. The mere action sends a million warning bells to your head, yet you can only smile and carry on, bringing him towards the carriage that is soon to be prepared.

Left behind in the remnants of confrontation, Xiyuan and Boyu can only look to each other, a kind of disoriented confusion filling them. While Xiyuan had never interacted with the general before, let alone been so up close, he had not realised that there was such a heavy truth to the rumours. Boyu likewise had never seen him as such, only having seen him in the battlefield, looming and quiet, cold dead eyes as the general commanded an army of the dead. At least, that is what they call it.

“Can he actually speak? Or is he just going to be standing there when she talks to him?” He asks the young lord, his head tilted in slight confusion.

Xiyuan looks at him, his voice almost nearing a reprimand if not for the strained smile on his lips, “Boyu.”

“I’m just asking. Besides, I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t have done that.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“The general is likely not as well-versed in noble etiquette, you can’t blame him.”

Rather, ever full of vigour, he crosses his arms and asserts, “No, I can and I will. He should know better.”

Xiyuan can only sigh at that response, a helpless gleam in his eyes. He shakes his head, the people of Hedong are certainly intriguing.

It is while this conversation is happening that you are left with the ever envious task of collecting some errands and messages to be sent to some townsfolk by your servants. A few are easy enough, visiting merchants to pass along lists or merely to send word of their well-being, that being said there was one establishment you would have to visit and you could only hope that the general would not mind.

At the very least, you hoped he would at least voice out his rejection. The carriage ride towards town might as well have been for the dead, for he stared into your form as though you had committed a great crime upon the heavens and he were the jade emperor. You could not describe the situation as anything less than maladroit, any lesser person would wish to crawl into a cave and die when faced with such an individual.

Still, you remained strong and kept a serene expression, maintaining such that even when you broached the idea of your plans, he merely responded with a hum and a gesture. The general does not speak even when you bring him to sellers and farmers offering their wares, remains silent when you visit families and receive baskets, speaks not a word even as he now has realised that the building ahead of you is one of debauchery.

The women of Yunliang House, upon seeing your face rush from within to greet you, their painted lips quirked into smiles as their eyes squeezed in mirth. One of the women grabs you by the hands as she squeals with excitement.

“My lord, it's been so long since you’ve come!”

Another woman leans in closer to your visage, eyes scanning over with objective precision. The scowl on her face is not one that bears good news, “Ahh, look at you, your skin has gotten so dull. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Ai, ladies, our lord doesn’t have the time we do,” A voice comes from behind the crowd, a basket in her arms and a natural sway to her steps. Boxes of rouge and pins, bolts of fabric and assortments of fruits and pastries lay in the basket’s wooden cradle. She turns to the general and hefts it over to him, not before making the same old excuse, “Come, some idiot gave us too many gifts again.”

“I’ll make sure to pass it to them back in the estate,” You laugh, made especially all the more obvious when the ladies fuss over him to ensure nothing falls from the basket.

That same woman only huffs and crosses her arms, rolling her eyes as she remarks, “One of these days you’re going to have to accept these from us.”

“That day shall come when it comes, thank you.”

With that last bow, you are waved goodbye by the ladies and set to return to the carriage. Surrounded by a sea of people all milling about the marketplace, the sounds of haggling and advertising fills your ears, grilled meat and rich spices wafting through the air as even children weave between your forms. When a young child, no older than six years old, takes a small tumble and falls into you, you are quick to help her up. She looks up to you with wide and shaky eyes, yet tears do not fall, instead she thanks you rather loudly than scurries off, her laughter continuing to reach you.

Fengxi decides to speak, and though you believed the very surroundings too much, too loud for his voice, again you are proved wrong. “You treat your people well, it is undeniable that they hold affection for you.”

“Many thanks but I am merely doing for them what I should,” You shake your head, a huff of amusement escaping you.

“You would be surprised.”

As though lost in thought, the general finally moves his gaze away from your form, that heavy weight placed upon your shoulders lifted. His lashes accompany the slow blink he takes, cocking his head ever subtly as sleek pin-straight hair follows along the movement. He does not slow in his pace, the overflowing basket of gifts likely weighing nothing to him, and yet there appears an odd melancholy to him. You do not know what there is to ponder, what exactly has captured that enigmatic mind that a pensiveness should take over. It is when the crowd amasses to that of mountains and seas that he decides to open his mouth once more.

He hums, eyes still looking off into the far distance, “Chunxin is kindly, with clement weather and conditions.” Then, Fengxi redirects that heavy focus back upon you, a dark thin brow raised in jest. “It is no wonder my lord has received such warm suitors.”

“And have you not as well?” You remark, cocking your head as you send him a glance.

For the first time, actual amusement is visible on his face, lips pulling back to reveal pearly teeth as he barks in laughter, “Not many women are keen on becoming the wife of a Qiugu general.”

You notice how sharp his teeth are, perhaps no different than a normal person’s upon first glance, but the narrower tips had sent an odd feeling down your spine. The Devourer, a title earned from war-torn savagery, soldiers tearing through enemy ranks without care of life nor death, and their general who not so much as leads but lunges into battle as eager as his soldiers, ravenous beasts who tear into the throats of men with claw and teeth.

You do not understand him. He is 34 years of age, and has previously held no interest in any sex. There have been rumours that those who have tried, those who have attempted such underhanded tactics would find themselves spurned at best, and in pieces at worst. He says such words, and yet he will ride ceaselessly from Qiugu just to arrive at the soonest possible moment. Why even bother with the effort if he will only act as such?

“Yet you sent an offer to me?”

He does not respond, and the crowd seems to have noticed this gap in conversation, for it grows so congested that you must pull the two of you into an empty alley to prevent either of you from being swept up. In such a constrained space, you keep your voice soft and ask him once more, meeting those severe eyes as a tinge of trepidation grips onto your tendons. Unlike Boyu or Xiyuan who provide warmth upon close contact, there is no heat that radiates off of him, only frigid cool.

“Fengxi, did you send an offer because of some reason unpolitical? Or is this an excuse to soon discuss offers of grain and iron?” Your murmur is gentle, yet he hears it all. A gleam of mirth glints within those eyes.

The general meets your gaze, lowering himself so that he may be eye level with you. “At the start, I did wish to court you out of reasons purely detached, yet...” His words trail off yet it is not out of hesitance but ponderance.

“When I saw you, there was something within you that sparked an interest,” His breath is warm, fanning across your neck. It takes everything within you to not flinch away, look away from those eyes which bear abyssal depths. Rumbling from within his chest with gravelly quality, he hums, “The way you treat your servants, the rest of your suitors, and your townspeople.”

“There is something about you that I cannot put my finger on, yet there is something oddly reminiscent of your very being.”

“It is as though we have known each other for a time yet I doubt it is so.”

You manage a response, your voice even and unlilting despite your unease, breathing, “Perhaps in a past life.”

You do not like the way he looks at you, the way he sizes you up like something to be eaten, peering over every pore on your face, every wrinkle and every curve. His words only confuse you, there is no feeling of familiarity when you think of him, no interest, no knowledge. You do not understand that abyss in human skin, and you hate it. It hurts your head, the sheer inability to understand, you hate it. You hate this feeling of being unable to get under his skin, you hate not knowing what makes him tick.

“Perhaps so.”

“I wonder what it is,” He hums, voice low and rumbling from within that chest of his. Though his face displayed no sign of amusement, that flash of teeth, Fengxi seemed almost all too pleased by your tense shoulders and quickened breath, “Shall we find out together?”

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————春芯王—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

As A’yan and Xue’er comb through your hair, removing pins and hair sticks that relieve the tension on your head, an almost audible sigh of relief escapes you. Another long day of entertaining and appeasing, you had certainly thought yourself capable of an act as simple as talking yet you always find yourself beyond exhausted when night falls. It is as though your bones have liquified and your head squeezed tight with a circlet, so these little moments between you and your attendants have been nothing but a consolation for your troubles.

Xue’er, her smaller hands slick with fragrant oil, parts portions of your hair to reveal scalp, rubbing it into the skin with the heel of her palm. The force she places into each action is perfect, not quite practised but rather habitual. While she is doing so, she puts up a query, her mellow voice soft in your ears.

“My lord, Yongjie has been recovering well. Do you want to visit her tomorrow?”

Meeting her gaze through the bronze mirror, you hum, “I think I may be able to, how is her condition?”

“She can hold conversation, A’yan-jie talks to her when she can,” She notes, glancing towards A’yan who has busied herself with putting away your current pins and preparing tomorrow’s.

Upon this referral, your dearest attendant averts her gaze, speaking low and gentle, “She asks about you, whether you’re taking care of yourself and whether you’ve started a great scandal yet.”

You can only laugh at this. Yongjie would certainly have your head if she knew the kinds of impiety that you have committed. Yet though she has always placed your reputation and image above all else, her query for your wellbeing likewise tugs at your heartstrings.

“Well, she will know when I come to see her. General Cai will understand.”

Xue’er’s expression immediately sours when she hears you mention him, the shift instantaneous. The manner in which she rubs the oil into your head changes as well, a tad more forceful than before.

She sneers, “I don’t like him, he’s weird and he always just stares at me when I have to do things.”

“Xue-er,” A’yan warns.

“My lord, please tell me you'll marry Lord Song,” Her voice is filled with hope, her wide eyes of ivory all but begging you. Almost reminiscent of a puppy, she cites her rather reputable evidence, “At least he always helps us when we need it.”

“A’yan-jie, who do you think our lord should marry?”

Turning her attention towards the stalwart woman, she waits with earnest for her opinion. A’yan approaches your seated form, brushing your oiled hair to one side. Through the fabric of your thin robes, you feel the callouses that litter her hands.

She merely answers, her voice is clear, “Whoever she deems best, no matter who it is, we should support her.”

“You’re right, but still…”

A tired sigh escapes you as a smile that reeks of exasperation tugs at your lips, “Ai, let’s not talk about marriage now. It’s all I’ve had to think about for the past two weeks.”

The two women only snort, but do not press the topic any further, continuing with their respective task until eventually, as all things must do, they finish and rather eagerly take their leave. In fact, Xue’er does not even wait to leave the premises before she is rambling into A’yan’s ear about how much she finds General Cai offputting and how marrying Lord Song or First Master Chen would be far better for you. Perhaps the ongoing betting pool you have caught wind of has likewise found conversation for Xue’er.

You can only let out an overfond huff as your finger plays with the gold band around your finger. It is a wonder that none of them have mentioned the obvious signs of courtship upon your very being, jade bangles, gold hairpins, delicate necklaces and the gold ring wrapped around your finger. They seem to believe the other responsible for such gifts, friendly and courteous with one another yet too prideful to ask.

To be a young woman in today’s society is to have a metaphorical clock above one’s head, ticking away at every shichen she exists without a husband. 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24. As each year passes, the demands grow louder and louder. Though you rule among men, you are still seen as a woman, above all you are a woman.

Yet when the one person you desire most remains forever unavailable to you, so close yet just out of reach, there is little choice on what action to take, little choice to discourage the masses that call for your betrothal.

Though you despised deception, it is necessary.

It has always been a necessary cruelty.

Perhaps it is more cruel of you to admit it so easily, but you have not come to your station by being soft-hearted, not bearing the title Lord of Chunxin by disclosing personal affections.

They are decent men, just not ones you can see sharing your treacherous life with.

So you decided that if you were to remain unwed, you would make it so that no other man that breathes upon this earth would deem you desirable. Invite them into your home and lead them on a little game, let them fall into your hands and into the deception called ‘love’. Then, you would simply rebuff each and every single one of them. The more visible the better, Lord Song, the Chen family heir, the general of Qiugu, a selection that may eventually find their dreams shattered. They shall call you fickle and cruel, a woman undeserving and undesirable.

No matter the notion that these men spoke their flowery words, spilling their heart out as you return those heartfelt gazes with a gleam only distantly related to fondness, let them take your hands in theirs as they swear and swear it can be only you, there was nothing but the yawning abyss within that chest of yours. It mattered not of how much they could attempt to satisfy that avidity, it would not be so unless it was with him.

Yet that did not mean you would not regret hurting them

A yearning that shall go unfulfilled,desires born of spring-time affection that shall be spurned in favour of another far more profound.

Song Xiyuan shall find that his desire to learn all you have to offer, all that you are and all that you have been, snubbed. Ningshan takes but 7 days to travel on lone horseback, and to become Madam Song would therefore mean a partial absorption of Chunxin into Ningshan’s authority. This directly contradicts your terms, and though you enjoyed his presence, his company, you would not allow yourself to separate from your dearest home.

Chen Boyu will see another year of failure, another year of shame to be hung with the previous years. Though he wishes for nothing more than your company, nothing more than to stay by your side, you could not give him what he truly wants. You know him as much as he knows himself, you are after all, most bosom friends. Perhaps you shall offer a sworn oath of siblinghood, and he will accept it, because he is nothing if not adoring.

Cai Fengxi shall return to Qiugu with not marriage but an offer of alliance. He and his army shall swear to serve you and Chunxin, yet remain stationed in Qiugu. A general and his lord, he may discover the truth behind his fascination without tying himself to a title that holds no weight. His loyalty, steadfast and undying, will be useful. To the devourer who has no rival, you can only hope his interest remains so.

And your brother? Your brother will get what he has always wanted.

It is as he desires, always as his desires. Because they are as much his, as they are yours. It is only a question of whose is so iniquitous that it should deem you eternally lay in the land of tenderness.

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————周羿瑾—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

There is something about your brother that you wonder whether is as visible to an outside eye as it is to you.

To outsiders, your brother bears a kind of beauty that men desire and women envy, a kind of appeal that men covet and women long for. After all, with a face such as his, alluring phoenix eyes of warm amber with lashes long enough to kiss the apples of his cheeks, his tall nose and thin rosy lips upon jade white countenance, it is hard to not admire him. When he speaks, it is low and steady, a tune with no discerning cadence. Of course, one could not deny the appeal of his form, garbed in long robes that trail along his path, a tasteful yet scandalous peek of his chest that only enticed the observer for more.

Slender fingers capable of playing the most euphonious melodies and a mind that can memorise a tune with just a single listen, he has always had that talent for musicality. Three rounds of drinks in and he may still pick out a wrong note in a piece. Yet beyond his physical allure, there is perhaps one description you have heard of him that has remained most prominent in your mind. ‘Being with Zhou Yijin is like drinking the finest of wines, you get carried away and before you know it, you’ve become utterly drunk.’

It is a rather apt sentence. Though your brother very often does not enjoy unnecessary ramble, there was a charm to him, an undeniable magnetism to his intellect and mannerisms. Your servants find his visage enticing, so perpetually irresistible that they shall grasp any situation to look at him. Your attendants adore his doting nature, that your vanity be filled with gifts and your desk occupied with pastries at all times. It would explain why Xiyuan has become so enraptured in conversation with him, why Boyu would continue to be with him despite his harsh words, why even Fengxi may engage in drink with him.

Your brother is the perfect image of a noble character. And the perfect brother.

Beyond his surface niceties and nobility, your brother is the person who knows you best. He is the one who understands your heart and stomach, that every blood vessel and bone in your body is known completely and utterly to him. To others, he maintains societal chivalry, but to you he is gentle. With warm hands that seem to be able to hold the world and an adoration in his every action, there is no other man like him.

Since the day you reunited, since the incident, since the day you almost lost him, you have never desired for another to accompany you. Entertaining men you have no interest in courting, no desire to know beyond exchanges of grain and iron for military might, when the day ends and you must retire, it is his embrace you return to.

Within the candle-lit room is your brother and your three suitors, indubitably intoxicated beyond relief, or perhaps more accurately, your three suitors are so drunk that when you open the door, you are greeted with a rather loud greeting and utter chaos. A table has been shoved aside and the floor is littered with empty jars of wine, the sweet yet wheat-like aroma wafting from the room, under the warm lighting, perhaps one might mistake your hall as a cheap brothel than a room in a lord’s estate. You are only surprised that there is nothing more broken than the cheap qin you keep, entirely smashed in as courtesy of a certain someone’s impulse issues.

In the very corner, Fengxi had apparently gotten so inebriated that he is now face first onto the low table, his cup still in hand as his chest rises and descends in slow rhythmic pace. Boyu has since grasped onto your brother’s sleeve, fat tears rolling down his pink cheeks as he begs for something. Xiyuan, the one who called for you with that joyous ring of your name, is flushed from his neck to his ears. Excitedly waving you over, even the wide sleeves of his robes seem to adopt that exuberant aura, his smile wide and unabashed.

In the middle of it all is your brother, his cup still full as his once frigid eyes soften when you approach them. As though a bodhisattva among mortals, he maintains his flawless complexion and upright form, even if he is attempting to console Boyu, who is rather preoccupied with sobbing into his leg. Sitting by Zhou Chen’s side, you cup the young master’s face into your hand as you smile upon the way his watery eyes light up at your presence. He immediately switches to clinging to you, strong arms wrapping around your waist while he looks up to you.

“Boyu, go rest,” You coo, your thumb rubbing his cheek in assuage.

He merely hums, nodding his head as he falls limp into your lap. Your brother clicks his tongue at such a display, and with a quick look to the crowd of help outside, a few rush in to carry Boyu back to his room, at least not without some kind of struggle. With the rather obvious issue out of the way, Zhou Chen rises and offers a hand for you to take, one you accept but it is soon that you realise that another has come to grasp the ends of your long robes, tugging on the ends of it the same manner a child does to his mother.

Xiyuan, his sunlit eyes you are so accustomed to seeing squeezed in mirth, has widened to liken him to a puppy pleading to be let onto the bed. His voice loses the drunken enthusiasm yet retains that same vulnerability, imploring, “Stay a while longer, please?”

“I shall see you tomorrow, alright? It is late now and I would rather you be well rested.” Your hand comes to rest atop his head, an innocent brief pet that he chases after when you pull away.

The lord manages to grasp that hand of yours despite the drunken coordination he has adopted, holding it as he once again pleads, “Promise?”

“Promise,” You smile, a huff of amusement escaping you when he beams as your response. When he has loosened his guard, you are quick to retract your hand, a notion your brother clearly approves of when he pulls you closer towards him, practically encased in his presence.

“Please have them escorted to their rooms,” You turn to your attendants and servants, a few of which wince when they realise that they must soon heft the unconscious general to his room. Still, you muster a smile and bow to them, “Thank you.”

At this, they get to work with swift action, one of the perhaps luckier ones rushing over to the still giggly Lord Song to help to his chambers. You are not sure of what else occurs, for your brother is even swifter to bring the two of you back to your bed chambers, a notion that thankfully has remained innocuous to your people.

His hand rests on your waist, and though the journey back passes by in but a blink of an eye, every moment away from his touch, away from having his sole focus on you is torturous. Only ever in the privacy of your room, tucked away in your office, in spaces that you may never be perceived as Lord Zhou of Chunxin, only then will you be merely you, your older brother’s dearest meimei.

Kept at the farthest end of the estate and in its own little paradise, your bed chambers are lit up by candles emitting their gentle light. Despite your simple attire, you have yet many tasks to settle at your vanity, sitting atop the sandalwood stool as you free your hair from its binds, thick and flowing past your shoulders. Just as your hand places your hairpin down, a larger one comes atop it, far cooler in body temperature.

You say nothing to this. Instead, keeping your voice low, a huff escapes you as you raise a brow in suspicion, “How convenient that you’ve gotten them all so drunk.”

“Have I done something wrong?” His voice is stolid, he tips his head to face you, a hint of amusement along the corners of his eyes.

Zhou Chen maintains his guileless demeanour, letting you fuss over him instead as you urge for him. He places himself between your legs, kneeling obediently as you remove his own hairpin and jade hair-beads that provide his blithe comeliness. Your hand reaches to brush his hair back, remaining atop his head as he looks to you with those warm eyes.

“How did you even manage to get them to drink that much?” You mutter, your eyes lingering on his soft lips.

He hums with not a hint of his usual snide, “They’re eager to impress.”

“Even Fengxi?”

The sudden change of reference, the new intimacy as he perceives it, is not as all welcomed. He furrows his brows as a wronged expression appears on his handsome face. It would be almost cute, such a noble man showing an emotion oft relegated to neglected concubines or petulant children, you cannot help the scrunch of delight that manifests.

“Calling him by his name now, hm?” He huffs with narrowed eyes.

No matter how much mirth you feel from his misplaced discontent, a soft breath escapes you. Watching him ascend from his position, you likewise rise, your footfalls rushing towards him despite his clear stay. When faced with him, you could only sigh, “I know you don’t like me spending so much time with them but I have to.”

Zhou Chen’s expression mellows, returning to that visage of tender concern as he pulls you into a loose clutch, staunch arms enveloping your form. The familiar smell of sweet and spiced tobacco clings to his skin, a creamier note of sandalwood urges you to press your nose against the crook of his neck and doze off. It springs that welling sentiment of assurance, reliance on him.

“I thought we said you’d spend your days with them, not your nights as well yet…”

Twisted with disquieted aggrieve, his voice is soft among the night wind, “...We’ve been having less and less time for each other now.”

“It's only for a few more days,” You sigh, brows furrowed as he rests his hands on your hips, his rings digging ever so slightly into the fat of your flesh. An aggrieved lilt tinges your words, “Can’t you hold on until then?”

He merely raises a brow, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against one another. “Don’t you know how hard it is for your brother? Watching you run around with simpletons, watching you give them that smile of yours so easily, watching you touch them without care for propriety.”

His lowered lashes flutter as he lowers his head, murmuring against your lips, “It makes me want to smash their heads open.”

“Childish,” You scoff, yet with not a single shred of actual vexation could be found in even a blood vessel of your form.

“Do you like them that much?”

“Of course not,” You mutter against his lips, voice soft. It is not hard to tell him your wants, not hard to spill every amorous thought you have of him, not when it is for him, never when it is for him. “The only person I need is you.”

Your brother’s lips are warm when they capture yours, so unlike the rest of his body. He cups the side of your face as though your skin were delicate porcelain, as though any more and you would shatter before his very eyes. And though you have griped over his subtleties, you have missed him more than anything that this world could possibly offer atop a golden platter.

It comes as no shock when you press against his lips harder, and your brother, your perfect brother who always knows how best to hold you, pushing past your lips with his tongue, starved of a hedonism so often indulged. You let him take and take, seizing everything you have until there is nothing but bleary fog in your head.

“You’re so needy, have I been neglecting you?” The raspy quality of his voice only seems all the more sensual so close to your ear, warm breath brushing against the tender shell that it may straighten your tendons.

At this moment, you could only playfully hum, a coy lilt to your voice, “Then, gege will take good care of me, right?”

He smiles, he obliges.

Through moonlit rays and candlelight warmth, you are the sole beholder to the beauty that lies beneath heavy robes. Hidden from prying eyes, an active life campaigning alongside a warlord has allowed him a nearly perfect toned figure. Well-defined collar bones and long lean limbs, broad shoulders and a slim waist, it is difficult to not admire him.

Yet perhaps most surprisingly, your brother’s length is equally beautiful as he is, as though carved from the highest quality of mutton fat jade, the slight flush to the head only made it as alluring as the rest of him. Each protruding vein is almost perfectly placed, that so every time you see it, you cannot help but think that it would be without peer if not for the excessive thickness and length.

How you yearn to revere him as he always does you, always you.

“Gege–” You moan, drunk off need and pure adoration. Glancing down at the way you are stretched for him, letting him in, so intimately intertwined that it seemed almost seamless, the turbid wet mess that now stained your bodies only elicited another tight squeeze.

Hips flush against yours and your legs splayed widely around them, it rips another shameless, ragged sound from your throat. He has already pushed himself into the depths of your body, filled so much of you that you could only heave and beg in choked sobs, beg for more, beg for him. Because you have only ever yearned for him, that his insistence to shallowly rock into you is nothing but torturous. Your swollen bud aching for some attention yet left completely and utterly alone, it hurts despite his very proximity.

Your brother sighs, his usually steady voice thick with desire, “Such a lustful body, how can anyone else satisfy you, hm?”

He pulls out entirely, leaving only the very tip. In instinctual desperation, you can feel yourself squeezing once more, confusedly trying to pull him in. With a coquettish whine, you spread your legs ever wider, his large hand gripping onto the soft plush of your thigh, devoid of the jade and gold that usually decorate his slender fingers.

“Only you…” Softly sighing, you reach for him with what little energy you can muster, eyes watery and begging. He does not oblige you. “Gege… it can only be gege…”

Only then does he react, bending further to press a light kiss to your lips. Yet perhaps what contrasts such a tender action is the harsh buck of his hips, the pace he sets desperate and frenzied, the precision he has always had over your form does not falter, repeatedly hitting that spot as his hand squeezes hard into your skin.

“So good, hah–” He praises, his other hand slipping to grasp onto yours, holding onto you tight as his form presses against yours.

“You’re always so good for me, meimei.”

Under overwhelming pleasure borne of hours of being played and toyed with, your thoughts have been reduced to bear nothing but him and the feeling of him, your brother’s harsh thrusts only pushes broken, needy moans and tears to fall from your eyes. Yet, he is still your perfect brother, kissing your tears away as he tells you how well you are doing, how you are clamping on him so tightly, how much he adores you, how you’ll always be together no matter what happens. No matter, you rely purely on instincts to twist your form to cater to his desires, a mindless smile pulling on your lips.

And then it hits you, far too sudden and hard you barely realise you have reached that peak of pleasure again. How many he must have plucked from you that even now you could care less about the obscene noises that leave your lips. Your toes instinctively curl, yet it is only briefly before your legs hang uselessly in the air.

He does not stall, rubbing against you in that merciless pace before he is smearing hot and messy kisses against your jaw. He pushes his hips flush against yours in one final, gentle thrust as you arch into him, the remnants of your pleasure still searing through your body now only intensified by the thick streams that spill out between the gaps of your legs. Zhou Chen remains within you, pulling back to look at you with a soft sentiment within those amber depths.

Cuddled next to each other, your brother places another kiss to your lips, brushing away the tousled hair from your face with his slender fingers, again chaste yet so filled with the very reverence the two of you work so hard to keep hidden. Wrapped into his embrace and pressed close to his chest, you can hear how his heart beats, thumping in slow rhythmic pace. It beats only for you, He lives only for you.

“Promise me you’ll never leave me,” He mutters beneath his breath, amber eyes peering into yours.

Just as quiet as he had once done so himself, you respond with what little voice you have left, “Promise.”

Zhou Chen holds you closer, as though wrapped in the embrace of a mother you never got to have, you feel the ghost of his lips atop your head, pressing a kiss filled with exaltation true and raw.

You wonder whether an outside eye can truly see the depths of your brother’s affection for you, whether they can see how unfailingly and adoringly he loves you with every fibre of his being. You wonder whether they have realised those eyes that never leave your form, hands that have wrought tragedies and a mind that has long foreseen every possibility. Composing this world with fingers of jade-white excellence, this shall be one that bears only the two of you, one that shall forever ensure your happiness, one that shall never end.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #oc x reader #x reader #original writing

70 notes · View notes

alkhale · 1 year

Note

OHH MY GODDD THE ENDING WHERE LAW SHAMBLES A CRATE OF APPLES....

MADE ME THINK OF HOKU!!!!!

Kid: *wanting to give a crate full of apples to Hoku to have browny points*

Luffy: *sees meat steals meat*

Luffy and Kid fighting

Law: *shambles crate of apples to give it to Hoku instead*

Hoku: *draws while daydreaming of apples........apple hair Shanks*

MILD SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE WANO ARC BELOW

Kid paused for a moment as something rolled across the ground, knocking lightly into the side of his foot. He glanced with half a scowl nearly tattooed across his lips, narrowing his eyes at the disruption while Killer hauled the next crate of supplies over his shoulder.

The people of Wano were ensuring with everything they had that the pirates currently preparing to leave their hidden shores would be stocked and ready for whatever lay beyond them. Kid didn’t care for their generosity and blubbering—they’d take what they deserved and have their fill. There was nothing else to it.

He didn’t care much either, for the way the other two crews encroaching on his space handled things. Namely one crew in particular, and specifically one ridiculous, mouthy, cowardly, irritating—

(“We can’t take all of this!” Hoku laughed, her voice grating against the side of his ears as he watched her over the lip of a sake jar, scowling beneath the fluttering shadow of light from the lanterns strewn across the street in victory above them. “You all have to eat enough to make up for all these years!”

“But supplies! You need more!”

“We’ve seen how your captain eats!”

“We saw you back in the banquet hall!”

She tossed her head back and laughed. It rang and echoed, the faint flush of joy against the tan of her skin.

“Then let’s eat it together! Lu!”

“Hoku don’t you dare! The two of you will end up clearing all our supplies before we even leave!”

“Hoku Honey! If you’re hungry, I’ll make something for you right now!”

One of the brats leapt from the ground, arms wrapping around that damned woman’s neck as she continued to laugh, eyes swallowing the sight of joy before her with a bright sort of greed—drinking her fill before they skipped across the street and met—)

Kid angrily hefted the stuffed crate of supplies. The bright, shiny red apples rolled against each other. Wrapped hunks of meat were placed haphazardly on top. He looked forward beyond Killer’s shoulder to where that damned woman sat now, looking useless as always as she leaned back against a stack of crates, idly drawing into her book.

He’d already mocked her for being lazy and lounging around, but she’d simply bit back with an arrogant sniff that their tangerine haired devil woman of a navigator had ordered her to stay put.

“You’ll end up falling into the dock or worse,” Nami said. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Kid had scoffed at how she’d pouted, ambling through the stacked crates of supplies trying to poke her nose and help here and there until she’d tripped into a grain barrel and Roronoa Zoro had fished her out by her scruff.

He’d unnecessarily slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, her visage completely unbothered—as though this ridiculousness was normal—while Zoro walked around with her slung like that and kept lifting crates and helping stack goods.

What an idiot.

Kid’s boots stomped against the ground as he grew closer to that stupid woman now. His scowl deepened into a sort of sneer, grip tightening on the crate over his shoulder. He was in a good mood. He’d fool around with that idiot. She was easy to rile up if you knew what buttons to press. Kid had started to learn from their encounters so far.

He’d even pretend it was a peace offering—watch her face comfort into dumbfounded confusion—maybe he’d trip her into the same crate he was carrying—hah! What a load that’d be.

(She could easily fit into it, he thought carelessly, not even really thinking much of it. Right into that crate. They’d toss her into the ocean. On board. Into his cabin. )

A familiar twang sounded off like a snap by Kid’s ear and he abruptly stopped, whirling around the same moment grubby fingers pulled free an entire hunk of smoked meat from his crate. Straw Hat Luffy shamelessly shoved the entire thing into his mouth.

“Hey! You looking for a fight Straw Hat?” Kid dropped the crate to the ground with a thump! Luffy immediately stood at his raised tone, grinning impishly. “Keep your grimy hands off!l

“What’d you say Jaggy?”

“Come down here and I’ll beat it into ya!” Kid snarled. Killer continued peacefully without him towards the ship. “Less you’re scared.”

Luffy landed nimbly before him in an instant. Kid’s hackles raised and the two of them began to shout, hollering childish remarks back and forth while one calm, unbothered gaze finally set his finished newspapers down. He raised his fingers instead, curling them slightly.

“Shambles.”

Law stood up with the crate in his arm with ease. He made his way down the same way Kid originally intended, making it quite a fair distance before either of the two idiots realized what had happened and they were now shouting and spitting at him across the docks.

“Hoku-ya.”

Hoku looked up with a bit of a jump from her drawings. Law raised a curious, fine arched brow when he noticed her not-so-discreetly attempt to shuffle one of her papers back. “Torao! What can I do for ya?”

On any other occasion, Law would’ve ignored it. Meddling further with this woman usually ended up with more than he intended, and even teasing her to some degree either sailed over her head or ended with him having a headache.

But he was in a good mood today. Law felt…tactful.

(“Our captain’s still a bit of a sadist at heart,” Penguin said. “Don’t forget that!”)

A blue film enveloped the two of them and Hoku jumped, looking surprised and confused until she glanced down to her hands where a handful of bright red apples now sat.

“Hey!” Hoku’s lips started to turn into a grin. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re feeling sentimental! C’mon, is this your way of being sweet? Or wait, are you doing a whole one apple a day—“

Hoku abruptly broke off, watching Law flip casually to the page she’d been hiding. Her sketchbook now sat loosely in his grip.

Hoku paled. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed as she shot up, cradling the apples still. “Wait—“

Law promptly stilled. He blinked once, slowly, and then finally looked back to Hoku with judgement clear in his gaze. His expression attempted disinterested disdain, a usual look, but his fingers twitched against the sketchbook, a quiet whisper of something else.

Law made the tactical decision to ignore that.

“Really?”

“S-So what?” Hoku snapped. Her cheeks flushed a red as deep as the apples in her hands. Law briefly traced it down her collarbone—her blush always carried down her neck, against her back—but his scowl deepened instead. “It’s just a drawing! I can draw whatever I want! I like drawing pretty things! That’s perfectly normal! He’s a handsome man!”

Law gave her a look somewhat reminiscent of disgust and disappointment.

“Did I ask?”

“No! But I can tell you’re judging me and I don’t wanna—“

“Are you fucking kidding me? This some kinda sick joke doll?”

“Shishishi! That’s a good one Hoku! He’d love it!”

“Beat it Straw Hat! I’m about to throttle this—“

“Throttle? You’re talkin’ hot shit for a loser.”

“Loser? Did you go blind? I won—“

“I’m still 2-0 with ya, Kiddo.”

“Kiddo?”

“Eustass-ya pipe down.”

“Shut it—“

A breeze ripped the page from Law’s fingertips—he absently let it go, better off to the winds—but the four gathered continued a mix of shouting, condescending speaking—

Nami watched Robin pluck the paper from the air as it drifted by them. The two women leaning over the side of the ship.

Robin carefully smoothed the paper out, humming in amusement.

“Our dear artist has dangerous taste.”

“I just don’t get it,” Nami sighed with a pitiful shake of her head. “She’s hopeless, that one. The seas are endless and she picks one of the scariest men in the ocean to have a crush on?”

“Hopeless,” Robin echoed playfully, glancing thoughtfully toward where they could barely see Hoku’s bright white hair peeking out from the three bodies surrounding her. “Hopeless indeed.”

Nami sighed in pity when she followed Robin’s gaze. “Something tells me this is going to come back and bite us. Should I send Zoro? No, Sanji would be better…”

“No harm in letting them play a bit longer,” Robin said smoothly. The breeze fluttered the paper in her grip and she glanced back to it.

“Well,” Robin turned the picture perfect portrait of a grinning, fearless Red-Haired Shanks. Even the glint of his eyes seemed particularly fond to Robin. “She does draw him very handsomely.”

“Hmm… I’m going to make Hoku draw a portrait of me now once we set sail.”

“Mm, did that make you jealous? Though, that does sound rather fun. I think I’ll have to make Hoku do one for me too…”

#memos #hoku #trafalgar law #eustass kid #monkey d luffy #nami #Robin #shanks #hola #kidku #some strawhat girly loving if u squint #I typed this from my phone I’m sorry for mistakes #I love the new ending so much #it has consumed me #makes me want to cry #memos snippets

182 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 6 months

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 9 Part 1- August Moon

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: Waking up in yet another unfortunate circumstance, your mind strays to thinking of things you would rather forget.

Warnings: Explicit smut, child abuse

Word Count: 8.6k

Notes: This chapter started to get really long really quickly. Rather than postponing again and posting a 20k+ word chapter, there will be a part two. It’s a different format than other chapters, but the show did flashback arcs so why can't I?

“August Moon, laid just for you, steady, ready, smile like his, until it's out of sight. Don't undo the true chance that chooses you Face to face with a new day So simple it seemed, you dare to dream impossibly, risking its rarity of ‘I'll do it now' Black and blissful, tumbling, I wake, I sleep, it feeds me Fate may rule you and heart it fools you to lose your sanity”

It wasn’t the simple process of recalling how you ended up bound on the floor in the dark, or even trying to figure out how to escape the confinement. It was a million memories dancing through your head all at once, an entire lifetime fogged up with anesthetic playing out in your aching head.

All it took was a little doubt, right? A little confusion. And then you weren’t you, a person who had lived and failed and tried and been hurt over and over. A woman who had done unspeakable things and made unfathomable choices. You were her. A girl too small for her age, a girl whose bones poked out from her pallid skin. Her cheeks weren’t round and rosy, they were hollow and gaunt. She stared solemnly with eyes that seemed too large for her face, as glassy as those of a doll. In stark contrast to the finery of her nursery, she wore dirty pajamas and had unwashed hair.

That was you. From a life you didn’t want to remember, filled with so many things you couldn’t forget.

You remembered how cold it always was when Dad was gone. You remembered the feeling of hunger gnawing at your stomach. You were too young to know how to feed yourself or get warmer clothes, you only understood that your tummy hurt and you couldn’t stop shivering and that Mom didn’t want you to leave your room. You remembered sitting on your floor with your doll, quietly playing by yourself. Her name was Peach. She was your sister and your best friend.

More anything else, more than the fear or the sadness or the longing or the pain, you remembered Mom’s voice. She was singing and you could remember that song so clearly that you dreamed of it years and years and years later. Her melancholic melody floated down the dark, cold hall. The house had been silent since Dad left on a trip. He was a doctor, which meant he had to take care of people. Mom hadn’t been feeling well. She called it morning sickness, even though she seemed to get even sicker at night. She threw up a lot, and she said her head and back hurt. She said she needed to rest, which was why you weren’t allowed to leave your room unless she said.

But now she was singing.

Thinking about it for a moment, you put your doll Peach into her bed to be comfortable and safe while you were gone, pulling the little blankets up around her chin so she didn’t get cold. The house was always so cold. You left your room, your sock-covered feet making no noise on the wood floors. Mom’s voice was every bit as beautiful as she was, even when it was haunting and sad.

When you peeked around the doorway into the room she and Dad shared, you saw her sitting on the window bench, watching the lifeless gray sky. She was covered in something dark and wet, like she had spilled a drink. It puddled in her lap and coated her hands, dried on the edges but saturated so heavily in the middle that it still glistened like wet ink. You watched as tears slid down the side of her face, dripping from her chin. They kept falling, even as she sang.

“Momma?” you asked softly, suddenly uneasy. “Momma, what happened?”

She stopped singing, looking towards you with hazy eyes. Her face was drained of all color, her cheeks gaunt and hair a mess of flyaways. She held out her hand for you. Whatever was on her lap had dried on her skin, flaking off like rust from her fingers.

Blood. It was blood, you could smell it now. The vile metallic tang nearly choked you.

“Momma, you’re hurt,” you said, crossing the room and taking her hand without a second thought. Dried blood smeared over your hand. Her skin was ice cold.

Her pale lips parted to say something, her chest swelling with a breath, but nothing came out. She just looked confused, her brow pinching and fresh tears forming in her eyes.

“Mommy, you’re bleeding,” you insisted, feeling very cold inside. Dad wasn’t home, and you didn’t know who else could help.

“Why was it you?” she asked, looking lost. “A girl. A daughter. Why are you the only one to make it? If you were a son—if I had a son…” She put her other hand on her stomach. “It was a son, I know it was.”

“Momma?”

She blinked, her eyes focusing as if only just noticing you. Quick, like you had burned her, she dropped your hand.

“Draw me a bath,” she said, a sharpness you recognized very well returning to her voice. “I am fine, this is… Fine. Don’t tell your father about this.”

“Yes, mommy.”

There were many things Mom didn’t want dad to know, things about her. Later in life, she told you to hide things about you from him. But that came later.

From back then, you could remember very clearly that Mom and dad fought a lot. Sometimes it seemed like all they did was fight, and then Dad would leave on a ship, and then it was just you and Mom. When he got home, things would be fine at first, but that peace never lasted very long.

You could hear them in the den. It was a fight that had been brewing for a while. Mom was shouting in a shrill tone, but Dad only ever talked quietly. His voice came out in a low rumble that demanded absolute attention, like rolling thunder. Just as fearsome too.

You wanted to go upstairs, but that would mean going through the den and you didn’t dare interrupt them. Instead, you held Peach tight in your arms and covered your ears to block out their voices and waited for the storm to pass.

She shouted. He spoke. There was thumping. Mom screamed twice. And then a heavy silence fell upon the house. The clock seemed to tick even louder in the absence of their voices.

Did that mean it was over with? You crawled out of your hiding place, softly walking down the hall until you got to the arch leading into the den. Light from the crackling fire within illuminated a little halo into the hall, but there was no warmth to the orange glow.

Hardly daring to breathe, you peeked inside. Mom laid in a broken heap on the floor. She was bleeding. It gushed out of her nose, pooling on the hardwood. Her eye was already swelling and she cradled her stomach. Her shoulders shivered with little hitching sobs.

You didn’t see Dad anywhere, so you tentatively entered, walking as softly as you could.

“Mommy?” you asked, approaching her slowly.

Dad said your name from the stairs, making you jump. Mom whimpered.

“Leave your mother alone,” he told you as he came down. “It’s time for bed.”

“But mommy—”

“Now,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

You knew better than to argue with him when he used that tone of voice. You looked back at Mom, feeling sick. She was in pain, you knew she was. But Dad would help her, wouldn’t he? He was a doctor.

“Goodnight mommy,” you said, petting her head. “I love you.”

Her only response was a weak sob.

“Didn’t you hear that, birdie?” Dad said. “Your daughter said goodnight.”

Mom let out a shaky breath, looking up at you. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Okay, come on, sweet girl,” Dad said. “It’s late.”

Nervously, you crossed the room to the stairs where Dad stood. He didn’t look upset anymore, you could almost believe that nothing bad had happened. When you started to pass him, he held out an arm to stop you.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked.

You looked up at him, confused and anxious.

“I think I deserve a goodnight kiss from my sweet little girl,” he clarified warmly, leaning down to scoop you up into his arms. You stiffened up, squeezing Peach to your chest.

“Goodnight, daddy,” you said, kissing his cheek. He smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you worry. Things are going to be better from now on,” he told you. “Right, birdie?”

“Yes,” Mom answered, her voice pained.

Dad let out a heavy breath, nodding. “I hate that it has to be like this, but it’s for the best. I’ve been too easy on you girls for too long, and it’s my responsibility to take care of it.” He closed his eyes for a second, pressing his face against your neck. You held your breath.

“My sweet little girl,” he said, pulling back. “I love you. You know that, don’t you? I love you both.”

“I love you too, daddy.”

He kissed your forehead before setting you down, ruffling your hair.

“Alright, mommy and I have to talk. You better be in bed by the time we’re done, okay? I’ll check.”

“Yes, daddy,” you said.

As soon as his attention was off of you, you went up the stairs. You remembered being too small to take them properly, it was more of a climb than anything. A tiring climb. And then it was down the cold hall into your room, and straight onto your bed. You pulled the blanket up to cover both you and Peach and held the pillow around your ears to shield them.

You remembered many nights just like that, huddled with your doll in the stifled dark, waiting to fall asleep because it was the only escape you had.

28 Days Earlier

It was your own upset whine that woke you up to something approximating consciousness, and then you became aware of several things in quick succession. You were in Buggy’s bed, cradled in his arms with your back against his chest, you were both naked, he was touching you, and what was most probably his erection was pressing against your thighs. You squirmed, confused, catching a glimpse of his nose and smile when you twisted your head around, before pressing your face back into the pillow with a soft groan.

Your head hurt. Actually, several things hurt. It took you a few seconds to grasp what was real. Last night, going to the Maison Rouge, getting drunk, the bathroom, having dinner, getting carried back onto the ship, and then everything else.

At least that explained your headache.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Buggy said cheerfully. Fitting that the one morning you wanted to sleep he would be awake and in good spirits.

Your only response was a harsh gasp when he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger just a little too hard.

“You are awake right?” he asked.

“Mmmhmm,” you agreed.

“Good. I didn’t want to stick it in while you were still snoozin’.”

You made a confused sound. Most of your functional brain was focused on the way he was touching you, one hand holding you against him while the other shamelessly groped your chest.

“Cap’mm Buggy, what’re you-”

“Don’t get all weird about it,” he said, releasing you to sit up. Blinking groggily, you rolled onto your back to watch him grab a bottle he’d wedged between the other pillows. His makeup was all faded and smeared because you hadn’t taken it off last night, the sparkles dusting down his cheeks. “I’m gonna be gentle.”

“Oil?” you asked, confused as he uncapped it with his teeth and poured some onto his palm.

“Yeah, you were fuckin’ soaking last night, you’re probably all tapped out,” he said with a smile, clarifying some things by tossing off the blanket to stroke his cock, coating it in oil. This was a dream, it had to be. Buggy looked at you, his smile exchanged for a look of impatience. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” you said automatically, although you still felt like this had to be a dream.

Buggy rolled his eyes, stroking his cock one more time for good measure. “Quit gawkin’ and lay down.”

You laid back down, too sleepy to argue. Not that you would. Surprising you somewhat, Buggy laid down too, rolling you onto your side so you were spooning again.

You tried to twist around, confused about what he wanted. You thought you understood, but this was different. New.

“Lift your leg up,” Buggy told you. After a second of trying to understand what he meant, you did and he pulled you down enough for him to get his cock between your legs.

Oh.

Your breathing immediately picked up. Excitement? Nerves? You couldn’t tell the difference clearly enough to know. You didn’t fight him, your fingers digging into the sheets as he ran the slick head through your folds back and forth until it caught. The feeling made you shudder, your stomach flipping.

“See?” Buggy teased. “You loooove this.”

“Don’t we,” you began to say, speaking more because you felt like you needed to say something than because you meant it, “don’t we need to get up and… um…”

“And what?”

You tried to string together a coherent response, but it got lost as Buggy began to push into you, your argument disintegrating around his cock. The oil made it so smooth, he barely had to work it in, just pushing and pushing until you were full.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, his voice smug even though it was strained and hoarse.

If you were going to object in the first place, all of your thoughts disappeared when he moaned right into your ear. The sound was almost as potent as the feeling of him inside of you, you couldn’t help but tighten up around him, letting out a little whimper. Buggy laughed, rolling his hips lazily.

“We’re on vacation, babydoll. Just relax.”

When you and Buggy finally got out of bed, it was later than was at all reasonable and you were already worn out. Conversely, Buggy seemed to be full of energy. You got a look at yourself in the mirror, shocked and a little disgusted by the sight. There was only so much that could be done to salvage your appearance. Your hair seemed unable to take any other shape than an utterly disastrous nest, and the smears of makeup didn’t respond to water no matter how hard you scrubbed. Your bandana was on the other ship too. Since you were out a pair of very nice panties and the only clothes you had was last night’s red dress, you borrowed a loose linen shirt of his.

It did absolutely nothing to cover the worst of the damage—the bright red marks covering your neck from ear to collarbones. Some were very clearly bite marks with indents of teeth, others were less distinct splotches of red, and a few were just bruises.

“Sheesh, you look wrecked,” Buggy said, which was a little unfair. His makeup was smeared and he needed a shave and to tame the wild blue mess of his hair, but he didn’t look sickly the way you did. There was a brightness to his eyes, an energy you didn’t think you ever had.

“‘s not that bad,” you said, covering your neck with your hair.

“Come here, let me get a better look,” he said, dropping into his chair. You obeyed with halting steps, coming to a stop where you were more or less at eye level. Buggy didn’t look into your eye though, prying your hands from your neck and pushing your hair back to appreciate the work he’d done. “Some of my finest work, if I do say so myself.”

You couldn’t look at his face, staring off to the side. You didn’t want to think about what you did last night, the things you said and did and agreed to. You are mine.

How embarrassing.

Your reaction made Buggy frown. “What’s that look for?” he asked. “You said I could do anything I wanted.”

“‘s embarrassing,” you muttered. “But that… It’s fine, really. Do you want me to-” You gestured to your chin and neck.

Buggy ran a hand over his face, sighing. “Fine,” he said. “Makeup first, though. Somebody forgot to take care of that last night.”

You frowned because that wasn’t your fault which made him laugh, his mood smoothed over just like that.

Taking off his makeup was a very familiar process by now, as was preparing everything to shave his facial hair. You wished that the fulfillment of whatever twisted desires you had would have cured you of your preoccupation with Buggy’s face and neck, yet you found yourself as interested as ever. At the very least, you got through it without incident before wiping the remaining shaving cream off and applying the aftershave, appreciating his smooth skin. Maybe that was selfish.

“I just realized,” you said as you were cleaning the blade before returning the razor to its case. “I can’t cut you, can I? Because of your… your thing.”

“My thing?” he repeated, holding up a mirror to see if you had done a good enough job.

“Your Devil Fruit… thing,” you clarified.

“You just realized that?” Buggy asked. You couldn’t tell if his tone was amused or derisive. Both, probably.

“I thought the reason you didn’t let me at first is because you thought I would cut you,” you explained, turning around to put everything away. “Because you didn’t trust me.”

“Yeah, I didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do a shitty job.”

“I don’t think people would notice either way,” you said. “They’ll be too distracted by-”

“By what?” Buggy asked sharply.

“Your cheekbones and jaw,” you said, hoping it sounded like a normal complement and not creepy. “You know? They’re pretty enough that I don’t think a bit of hair or anything would matter.”

“You were going to say they’d be too distracted by my nose, weren’t you,” he accused. You looked over your shoulder at him, surprised to see his simmering rage.

“I wasn’t,” you told him, frowning. “You don’t even have hair there, it wouldn’t make sense.”

“What you said doesn’t make any sense either.”

“I, um,” you stammered, confused. “That’s not what I mean, sir. I swear.”

“Whatever,” Buggy said, standing up and going into the bathroom. You couldn’t tell how seriously he was upset by the perceived slight. Sometimes Buggy got really angry, but sometimes he seemed to forget it as soon as it happened.

While he was gone, you finished cleaning up the shaving supplies before stripping the bedding. By the time he emerged, you still hadn’t decided if you were meant to apologize or not.

“Do you want me to go get breakfast?” you asked, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Ew, no,” Buggy said, wincing as he tied a kerchief around his hair. “Never eat ship food if you can avoid it.”

“Then… Can I stay here with you?” you asked.

He grabbed his makeup case and sat back in his chair. “I doubt anyone else wants you.”

You sat on the end of his bed. The morning activities really had worn you out in a way they didn’t seem to for him, and you felt a little gross to be sitting there covered in a film of sexual grime, but it was better than being alone. Much, much better.

“How long will we stay in Lafitte, Captain Buggy?” you asked, looking out the window. It was another lovely day.

“Until I say we’re leaving,” he answered, focused on his makeup. He was very good at it, painting on the shapes quickly and efficiently. You felt warm while watching him, like you could relax because you weren’t alone, because he wanted you by him.

“It’s creepy when you stare at me like that,” Buggy said, bringing your musings to an abrupt halt.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said.

He smirked, adding the finishing touches to the blue around his eyes before powdering it like Pippa had with your makeup.

“Okay, new rules!” Buggy declared when he was done, standing up. “You,” he pointed at you, “do not leave the ship without me. You don't talk to anybody that’s not me. Really, just, only do what I tell you to do. Daddy dearest doesn’t have any proof that we’ve got you yet and I’d like to keep it that way. You’re gonna lay low, keep your head down, and not do anything stupid. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding, your stomach tied in knots at the reminder.

You helped Buggy get dressed, but your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of your dad. He wouldn’t be thrown off that easily, not from getting you back and not from pirates. You weren’t sure why you managed to convince yourself he would be.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Buggy asked with something like bitterness in his voice. “The Surgeon.”

“I guess.”

“Well don’t. I won’t let that crusty bastard take you back,” Buggy told you, rolling his eyes. “That’d be such a waste, I’ve got your pussy all broken in and everything.”

Your face scrunched in disgust while Buggy laughed, ruffling your messy hair to make it messier. You wanted to give him a hug before he left, but you couldn’t think of a way to make that seem appropriate.

“I’ll bring you back something nice to eat, okay, babydoll?”

“Will you be gone very long?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound desperate and knowing you did.

“I’ll be back before you know it. If you’re good and you get all your chores done, I’ll get blondie to dress you up so we can go out.”

Once Buggy left, you went to the berth to find a high necked sweater to cover the marks on your neck and get cleaned up. Although it had only been two days and you hadn’t even been on this ship very long in the first place, you had the sensation of being home. Or, being someplace more homey. Whatever your feelings, it was better.

Although it was late for it, people were still hanging around getting a cold breakfast. You wouldn’t have thought so many people would stick around but, apparently, it was payday. Everybody got a split of what had been plundered from the Dolce and those involved got more for the other ship.

Mohji handed out the money while Richie watched everybody’s bowls very sharply. You didn’t expect anything, Captain Buggy hadn’t really mentioned payment, but you still got a cut. It was strange to get money from a man who had only recently seen you locked up in the brig and called you hostage, but in the absence of the Chief of Staff, it was up to Mohji.

“You look shocked,” Marty said as everybody dispersed. “He didn’t short you, did he?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just… I’ve never had this much money,” you admitted. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“You’re a pirate,” he said. “You go out and blow it all on booze and hookers.”

“Captain Buggy said I’m not allowed to leave the ship. Also I…” You frowned. “I don’t think I’d do that anyway. Is that what you do?”

“Before you think too harshly of me, girly,” Marty said. “Don’cha think it’s better to pay a girl who’s clean than to catch something?”

You nodded like you understood. “That’s true. And I would never, ever judge you,” you told him.

Marty smiled, shaking his head in amusement.

“By the way, do you, um, do you know where Mr. Cabaji is?”

“Captain Buggy sent him off on some mission,” Marty said.

“Oh, that’s good then,” you said, more relieved than you should have been. Cabaji was smart and strong and capable, and if something happened to him somebody would have mentioned it.

It looked like Marty was going to ask you something, but he was cut off by a familiar voice. “Did Mr. Mohji pay you?” Pippa asked, making you jump. She had approached from your left blindspot, and you hadn’t been paying enough attention to check.

“He did. I was just advising her on how best to spend it,” Marty told Pippa.

“We’re going shopping, obviously,” she said.

You frowned. “Captain Buggy said I’m not allowed to leave the ship without him.”

“You can’t keep wearing my hand-me-downs. He must know that. If he doesn’t trust me, then Marty will come along to keep us safe.”

“He will?” Marty asked.

“If it’s for a good cause,” Pippa said, smiling and batting her eyelashes at him. He clearly wasn’t charmed by her, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe another day,” you told her. “I’ll ask him later.”

She sighed. “Fine. There are things I need to get while we’re here anyway.”

“Do you wanna go get something to eat first?” Marty asked. “I can’t stomach any more salted meat.”

“It’s too early to start drinking,” Pippa said.

“Start?” Marty asked, pulling a flask out of his pocket. She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll see you two later then?” you said.

“Shame you can’t come along. Sorry, girly.”

“It’s okay,” you said, smiling reassuringly. “I’m fine here.”

Neither looked like they entirely believed you, but nobody would argue with rules Captain Buggy set out. That was, if nothing else, the strongest unifier among the crew.

They left, and you focused your attention on getting your chores done. First, however, you stopped by the clinic, but Crina wasn’t there.

Without anything else to keep you occupied, you tidied up Captain Buggy’s cabin. In your absence, he had made a mess of it. Even though you were not in an entirely different position than you had been yesterday, you felt peaceful while cleaning. Now that you had a taste of his absence, you knew how dire it was that you did whatever you could to stay with him.

You weren’t sure how you were going to do that, but you were going to figure it out, and you were going to be very, very good at it.

The way you were tied up was simple. Hands secured behind your back with plain rope, and your ankles bound in the same way. Your head ached painfully, swimming in the thick fog. A drug? It felt like it. That was the only thing that could separate you from reality so thoroughly.

You remembered the first time you were ever knocked out with a general anesthetic. It was because you broke your arm, but it didn’t heal right because you weren’t strong enough. Your parents told everyone you broke it because you tripped, but you remembered what happened. You wished you didn’t. You wished you remembered running and falling, that would be so much better.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Miss Frizzy was the children’s teacher. Barley was too small to need more than a few teachers, and everybody had to learn together with different books. Dad said it was different in places with more people. You wondered if that would be nice, but you liked Miss Frizzy. She had long, dark hair that was very straight and sleek. She was young like Mom, and very pretty like Mom. You liked that she was nice, and that she smelled like vanilla, and that she gave you lunch when Mom forgot to pack yours. Sometimes, in the most secret place of your brain that you would never tell to anybody ever, you wished that Miss Frizzy was your mom.

School was over, but you had to stay because Miss Frizzy asked your mom to come into the classroom. Since it was an adult conversation, they set you outside the room in the hallway to wait. They thought you didn’t hear them, but you did. Miss Frizzy gave you a book of hidden object pictures, but you had no desire to find quilted stars or a rocking horse. You sat Peach in your lap so she could look at the pictures while you listened to the adult conversation.

“I am… concerned about your daughter,” Miss Frizzy said.

“What did she do?” Mom asked sharply in her ‘be careful’ voice, the scary one that let you know she was getting upset, the one that made your spine tingle.

“She didn’t do anything. I just wanted to discuss her social development. I’ve noticed a few things that are a little worrisome.”

“Like what?”

“She’s around the age that we’d expect to see more verbal communication. The difficulty with kids her age is usually trying to get them to stop telling you what they’re thinking or feeling, but she’s the opposite.”

“I’m sorry, are you telling me there’s something wrong with my daughter because she’s better behaved than other children?”

“No, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with her. I wanted to ask for your opinion on what I might do to make her more comfortable—what is her behavior like at home?”

“That’s not your business.”

“It’s just that, with kids like her, it’s important to encourage confidence and self expression.”

“She’s not well, you know that, don’t you?” Mom said. “That’s why she’s shy. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there’s not. But I would like to help her socialize, especially with the kids in her class. This is a very important time for social development.”

“Well what am I supposed to do?”

There was a beat of silence before Miss Frizzy spoke. “Social behaviors are learned,” she finally said, “I worry she’s not in an environment that makes her feel comfortable or safe to express herself.”

“Safe?” Mom demanded, her voice raising. “What is that supposed mean? You think she’s afraid to express herself because of me? It is not your business to tell me how to raise my daughter. And you know what? You ought to be careful if you’re going to be making these sorts of insinuations. You know who my husband is.”

“I’m not insinuating anything,” Miss Frizzy said.

“I am her mother. I know what’s best for her.”

It was quiet for a moment. A very long moment. “I’m worried that’s not entirely the case,” Miss Frizzy said softly.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Ilse Frisby,” Mom said, her voice mean and sharp like a knife.

Miss Frizzy tried to say more, but Mom emerged from the office.

“We’re leaving,” she told you with the type of look that you knew better than to argue against. You stood up immediately with Peach tucked beneath your arm, accidentally dropping the book. Rather than waiting for you to pick it up, she grabbed your bicep. Too tight. You winced, scrambling along to keep up with her as she dragged you out of the school building.

When you were out of sight, Mom rounded on you, her expression dark. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing, momma,” you said, out of breath from having to walk so fast, your arm aching from the way she’d been dragging you.

“You said something to her, I know you did. You told her I’m a bad mother, didn’t you?”

“No, momma, no, no,” you denied, shaking your head and fighting your tears. You didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t help the reaction in the face of her rage. You didn’t exactly understand the adult conversation, but you understood it had upset Mom. Really, really upset her. You squeezed Peach against your chest for comfort.

“You did, you had to have said something. You’re such an ungrateful brat. Do you have any idea how much I sacrifice for you? For you. And then you go to that-that woman and you tell her that I’m a bad mother? You owe me everything, and instead you just…”

Tears finally welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t fight them anymore.

“Oh, you’re gonna cry now?” Mom demanded. “Fine, go tell that woman how bad of a mother I am, go cry to her and tell her lies about our family.”

“No,” you said, your voice getting all stopped up in your swollen throat. “No, I’m sorry, momma, I’m sorry.”

“No, go. Go tell her all about what a terrible mother I am!” She used her grip on your arm to push you back towards the school building. Peach dropped first, falling into the dirt, and you felt something give out and there was a terrible crunching cracking noise and then you fell onto the ground too, scraping your knees across the dirt and rocks. Blood roared in your ears and you stopped crying because the pain punched everything out of you. It screamed up from your arm, but you couldn’t make a sound.

Tears and snot dripped from your face and darkened little spots in the dirt and you couldn’t breathe and mom was talking more but you couldn’t hear her. She dropped onto the ground beside you and looked at your arm. It looked wrong. It hurt so much you felt sick.

“Oh, my baby, no, no no no,” she cooed, gently pulling you against her, her voice so soft. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that, don’t you? I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, baby. I love you, I love you so—”

Your arm had to be set and put in a plaster. The surgery and anesthetic came later.

“Your mother loves you,” Dad told you that night. “She loves you very much. You know she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You nodded, holding Peach even tighter with your good arm. When you dropped her earlier, she broke. There was a faint fissure going down her face, right over her pretty glass eye. That hurt almost as bad as your arm.

“She worries about you,” Dad said. “We both do. What you did is not alright. You do not tell people about what happens at home. That is not appropriate. Do you understand?”

You didn’t think you had, but why else would Miss Frizzy say those things? Why else would Mom get so upset? You made a mistake, and there was only one answer. “Yes, daddy,” you said softly.

Those words made you feel hollow inside. The last time you said them was when you were trying to convince him to stay because even if you were miserable, you weren’t sure if you wanted to leave him.

Yes, daddy.

In a twisted way, that memory wrapped right back around to your first time with Buggy. Most of your life you thought you would probably die a virgin. Sex was dirty, and gross, and made you feel bad about yourself. How old were you when you came to that conclusion? Nine? Ten? You remembered the girl who told you. Her name was Harper.

Harper’s family lived on a small dairy farm on the edge of town. In a town full of fishermen, you thought cows were cooler, but Harper said it wasn’t much different at all. Just like them, she had to wake up long before dawn and work for hours before coming to school. The only difference was that she smelled like the barn while the boys who worked on the boats smelled like fish.

She was the only one in your school around the same age as you. Around the same age. Harper was six months older. Months that grew longer when you factored in the height difference, which seemed to get more substantial every week. She used those months and inches as the primary reason for why you had to listen to her and do what she told you to do. Mainly that included letting her take your toys, colored pencils, and hair ribbons and only playing games that she liked. It also meant, probably on account of those six months of extra experience, that Harper knew a lot of grown-up things that you didn’t.

An overcast sky loomed above, a sharp wind churning up the smell of brine and salty sea air below. You and Harper lived in the same direction from the school, so you would walk together to the big fork in the road. Then you went up the hill and she went around. Both of you were sniffling and bundled up tightly. Made worse by the wind, the cold got under your coat and nestled there, an inescapable chill.

“We should make a get well soon card for Dawn,” you said. You had heard that afternoon that she would be out of school for a few months, she’d come down with something bad. You knew all about that.

Harper snorted out a laugh. “Dawn isn’t sick.”

You looked at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Harper looked at you with an expression you knew well. A mixture of pity and superiority, like you were stupid, or at the very least woefully naive. “She’s pregnant.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Harper insisted testily. “My sister told me. She said that Dawn’s a slut. She’ll do it with any handsome sailor so now she’s pregnant.”

“Oh,” you said.

Harper smiled. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

You mulled that over, trying to divine her meaning from words alone. Slut was bad, you knew that much at least. But the rest, you weren’t so sure. Harper obviously wanted you to ask her. She liked doing that. You always felt so stupid not knowing all of the grown-up things that she did.

“I guess not,” you finally allowed.

“She had sex. That’s how babies are made,” Harper said imperiously, like she was teaching you a very important lesson. “That’s where they both get naked and a man puts his penis in the lady’s down-there parts. Boys have different bits, they stick out. It’s like this-” She held up her hand in the shape of a circle, slowly putting her finger through it to demonstrate. “And then the girl gets pregnant.”

Your face screwed up with disgust. “No way.”

“Yes way. That’s how you were made,” Harper said crossly. “Your mom and dad had sex and then you were born. And that’s what Dawn did.”

“How do you know that?” you asked her, still reluctant to believe something so gross and taboo.

“My mom told me in case a creepy pervert tries to touch my privates or chest. I’m starting to get breasts, you know. I’ll need to wear a bra soon, and that’s when boys want to have sex.”

Harper said that a lot, talking about how she would need a bra soon, but you didn’t think her chest looked any different. You didn’t tell her that though, because then she said you were jealous because she was taller and looked older than you did. You weren’t jealous. If having a bra made boys pay attention to you, you’d rather not. And the whole idea of sex just seemed gross. Probably Harper was lying, she did that sometimes. And if she wasn’t, that was worse.

But you didn’t say any of that, you just agreed, and then you told her goodbye at the big fork and made your way up the hill thinking about lots of icky, uncomfortable things you would really rather not.

24 Days Earlier

For you, clothes had always been somewhat of an afterthought. It wasn’t a matter of money. Dad didn’t like to see you wearing anything especially ostentatious or too flattering, he said that it would attract attention and make you look cheap. That, combined with your propensity to get cold, meant that you wore a lot of the shapeless sweaters Pippa hated so much.

Not anymore.

After a shockingly quick run through of the first shop, Pippa sent you into the changing room with several outfits at the ready. You were still reeling from the newness of it all. Without her, you never would have been able to pick out anything, there were far too many options.

Taking in a deep breath, you started with a white buttoned shirt. It had a sweetheart neckline and long, frilly sleeves. It was paired with a pair of pinstriped bloomer shorts, the kind that were meant to be seen rather than hidden beneath a skirt. Unlike everything you had worn previously—except for the red dress—both items were fit for your size. It was a lovely outfit. And then you looked in the mirror, remembering your problem.

“Pippa, I can’t wear this shirt right now,” you said doubtfully.

“What are you talking about?” Pippa asked, opening the curtain. You immediately covered your neck. She looked you up and down, her eyes relentlessly critical. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Just…” When you didn’t elaborate, trying to think of a way to explain the problem, she grabbed your wrist to pull your hand from your neck, revealing the marks littering your skin. The ones from the other night had only just begun to fade, and Buggy had decided to add more that morning “So you don’t forget.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Was he trying to eat you?” Pippa asked, her tone so matter-of-fact you almost weren’t sure if she was joking or not.

“I…” You huffed, shaking your head. “Did you get anything with a high neckline?”

“I doubt Captain Buggy wants you to cover them up.”

“How do you know that?” you asked doubtfully.

“That’s how men are.” She shook her head, a little amused. “Marking their territory. He doesn’t want anybody else trying to play with his toy.”

You frowned. “Don’t say it like that.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, I’m not judging you for getting in with the captain. If I thought I could get away with it, maybe I’d try the same thing.”

“With Captain Buggy?” you asked sharply, your voice raised with the higher bend of defensive jealousy.

“Relax,” Pippa said, looking a little surprised by your reaction. “He’s clearly got a type, and he’s certainly not mine.”

“Sorry, that’s not what I…” You fumbled on the apology, unsure of what you were apologizing for exactly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re getting that outfit, try on the black skirt with suspenders next,” Pippa told you, unruffled, “it should go with that shirt.”

She left the changing booth, closing the curtain. You couldn’t stifle your embarrassment about your reaction, and then thinking about the other night, caught on the worry that you may have embarrassed yourself even worse while drunk. What worried you, more than anything, was her motivation for helping you so much. Did it really make sense that she would like you when you behaved like that?

You thought about that as you rifled through the hangers, finding the aforementioned skirt fairly quickly. It was one of the few black pieces among lots of white and red.

“Pippa,” you asked while you got out of the pinstripe shorts, relying on the safety of hiding behind the curtain to muster the courage to ask. “Are we friends?”

“What?” she called.

“Are we friends?” you asked again, more insistent. The skirt was shorter than you expected, you would have to wear something underneath it otherwise your panties definitely would show. “You’re not just doing this because Captain Buggy and I are… you know.”

“Oh, that,” Pippa said. “I won’t lie, that’s why I helped you at first, but now… I like you. It’s hard to find somebody who’s willing to let me dress them up, especially someone like you. I could never get away with wearing clothes like this.”

You emerged from behind the curtain, awkwardly tugging on the hem of the skirt. Luckily, there weren’t many people in the store to see your bite-covered neck.

“See? You look adorable. I can’t pull off the cutesy style,” Pippa said with no small amount of wistfulness. “You can wear those lacy bloomers I gave you under that. You’ll need stockings too.”

“You really don’t think it’s too short?” you asked.

She gave you a flat look. “Do you know the luxury of being short?”

“I don’t think there are any.”

“If you wear that skirt, nobody’s gonna be even a little scandalized. If I wore something that short, it would be a problem. Enjoy it.”

You weren’t sure that was true, but it was a cute outfit.

The other things you tried on weren’t as successful, but Pippa said that was fine. As soon as you paid, she was dragging you into another shop. Things proceeded in pretty much the same way. While you were busy eying up a dress to decide if you liked it or not, Pippa was compiling an armful of clothes for you to try before shuffling you into the changing room.

“There’s a few plain cotton dresses, you can pair them with the corset tops or sweaters. Try those first, it’ll be good to have a few on hand,”

You picked through the hangers, looking for white cotton but finding a mass of white tulle and shiny sateen. You pulled it out, realizing that it was a dress. The skirts and sleeves were absurdly voluminous.

“What’s this white dress?” you asked.

“That’s yours. For the show,” Pippa said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is,” you agreed, although your hesitance was plain. “You said it’s for me?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t think… I mean, if I wear this, I’ll look like a kid, don’t you think?”

“I think,” she said, “you’ll look like a doll. You don’t have to try it on right now, I’ll need to alter it anyway. Just try those cotton dresses.”

“Oh yeah, right,” you said, trying very hard to not think about why she bought you a dress for the show.

After that, you visited a few other boutiques, ending the spree with a trip to a store that only sold underwear. As embarrassing as you found that one, it was necessary. Pippa said you had to ‘maximize your assets.’ What that really meant was wearing bras that had padding in them. Although they weren’t comfortable, you were a little excited about it. Now more than ever you were aware of how deficient you were.

It was late afternoon as the two of you made your way back to the ship. Shopping was oddly exhausting, as was carrying all the bags.

The question occurred to you while you were shopping for underwear, and now it burned on your tongue. You knew you needed to do it. You had to ask, the only other person you could think to ask was Crina but you got the feeling she wouldn’t react as well. And Pippa said she was your friend.

“Pippa… Can I ask you something and you never tell anybody ever?”

“Is it about sex?” she asked absently.

You flushed hot, all the way to your ears. “Yes.”

“Go ahead.”

“I know what a, um, a blowjob is, but I don’t know… how.”

“What are you asking me?” she asked, her eyes flicking towards you for a moment.

“I was wondering if you did, and if you could… I don’t know, do you have any advice or anything?” Hearing your own words made them a thousand times worse. You shook your head fast enough to make the twintails swish, grimacing. “Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. I just had to make sure,” she told you. “You know how to give a handjob, right?”

You blinked, freezing up in the face of that question as you realized that maybe you misunderstood what was meant by that last time you used the term. “Um...”

“Stroking his cock with your hand,” she said.

“Oh! Oh, I guess.” You had definitely misunderstood what that term meant last time you used it.

“That, but you add your mouth. Lick, suck, bob your head on the end while you jerk him off. If you’re having trouble with getting the rhythm, ask him to help you out.”

You nodded, trying to commit that all to memory while avoiding combusting on the spot out of embarrassment. “Okay, and, um… I can’t fit it all the way in my mouth. When he tried to, I choked.”

“You’d want to practice suppressing your gag reflex,” she explained casually, unconcerned with the subject or the idea that people walking past could hear her. “Some people can do it, some can’t.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You’re overthinking this,” Pippa said. “If you seem like you’re having the time of your life worshiping his cock, it doesn’t matter how deep you can take it.”

“That sounds… really embarrassing,” you admitted, catching sight of Buggy’s ship. That was good, your arms were burning from carrying so many bags.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Pippa said. “Sex should be fun.”

“It is!” you said quickly, defensive. “I just… I’m so… I feel disgusting, you know? And I don’t know what to say or do during and then after it makes me want to, I don’t know…” You shook your head, trying to think of a good way to phrase it. “I wanna peel off my skin or something. Do you ever feel that way?”

“No,” Pippa said, looking at you with a frown.

“Oh, um, I mean…” You forced a laugh. “I think I’m just being silly, I’m sorry.”

Pippa nodded. Neither of you brought it up again.

“I’ve got a special move for taking people down,” Buggy said over dinner that night. He brought it back to the ship for you rather than letting you go into town again. You liked that better anyway, when it was just you and Buggy. “I won’t spoil anything, but by the time I’m done, the sorry sucker’s nothin’ but chunks on the road. I’ll show you one day, it’ll blow your mind.”

You thought about that for a moment, looking at your plate. “Does it, um, does it bother you at all?” you asked. “Killing people.”

“Why would it?” he asked out of the side of his mouth, talking through a big bite of fish.

“I… I don’t know. You’re taking away another person’s life. Everything they were, everything they could be, all of that is gone because—because of you.”

Buggy rolled his eyes. “Babydoll, it’s not that big a deal. If they die, it was their fault for being in my way.”

You nodded. “My dad used to say that he never killed anybody. He only killed pirates.”

“Funny, I’ve only killed idiots.”

As desperately as you wanted to be able to think like that, you weren’t sure you could ever excuse yourself in that way. You wished you could be strong like Buggy, that you could adopt such an easy point of view. If you could, you would be better.

“Okay,” Buggy said, dropping his fork onto his empty plate and leaning back to pick his teeth with his knife. “I’m ready for the show.”

“Show?” you asked.

“You went shopping today, didn’t you? As my little protégé, the way you look represents me. I gotta know you’re meeting certain standards.”

“It’s just like what Pippa was giving me before,” you said, oddly embarrassed by the idea of putting on clothes just to show Buggy, “but now everything fits.”

“Didja get new undies?”

Your lips twisted up in an embarrassed smile, a little giggle bubbling out of your mouth. Buggy had seen you in all states of undress, you weren’t sure how you could manage to still feel so shy.

“I mean,” he said, gesturing towards you with the blade of his knife, “it’s a real shame about what happened to the ones from the other night. You gotta be more careful, babydoll.”

You wanted to point out that it was his fault for ripping them because he wasn’t patient, but you had a feeling he’d just turn that around on you anyway.

“I did,” you said. “Get new stuff, I mean.”

“Great,” Buggy said, dropping his knife and clapping his hands together. “Let’s start with that.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang #not sfw #its been a bad week hopefully things will be better for next chapter

33 notes · View notes

ticklishraspberries · 1 year

Text

Girlhood (Inej, Nina)

Summary: Inej and Nina grow closer, and Inej learns how lovely it is to have a female friend. (Prompted by @tklpilled 800 years ago, and I squeezed it into a fic for Day #11, "Squeal" for Tickletober!! xo)

After the Menagerie, Inej’s relationship with touch was very different.

As a child, her large, Suli family was always full of hugs, kisses, and playful tussling. There was no greater comfort than being encased in her mother’s arms, those arms that kept nightmares away and slowed the flow of tears with ease. Her father would kiss her forehead, her cheeks, ruffle her long hair, whisper affections. She was safe back then. She trusted the Saints completely, believing that they would always protect her from harm. She was innocent and happy, a little acrobat with big dreams.

That all changed the moment she was torn from her family and brought to Ketterdam on a dirty slaver ship, not knowing what her future would hold. All she wanted was her mom, those strong arms to pull her in and squeeze her tight. Instead, fourteen-year-old Inej hugged her own knees to her chest and cried.

She is no longer the Menagerie’s lynx, no longer under the control of Tante Heleen. Now she is Kaz Brekker’s spider. His Wraith. And while she likes the taste of freedom, she still flinches when men grow rowdy in the Crow Club, still can’t bear to meet the eyes of men who call out lewd things to her on the streets. It’s why she prefers to travel on roofs; the birds aren’t ogling her with lust in their eyes.

Her only two friends in the world just so happen to be male, which usually doesn’t cause any issues. Kaz has never laid a hand on her, even through those leather gloves, and Jesper notices the way she shies away from touch and has only recently started to initiate hugs, which she has learned to accept and find comfort in, because Jesper is like a goofy older brother, and she knows he isn’t after anything from her.

When Nina Zenik enters her life, Inej finds a new comfort in female friendship. She had grown close with other girls at the Menagerie, but it was out of necessity, treating one another’s wounds, comforting each other during sleepless nights.

But she genuinely likes Nina, finds her humor and confidence endearing. And Nina notices the way men bother Inej, can probably sense the spike of her blood pressure, and when Inej finally tells her what happened to her, Nina doesn’t compliment her strength and survival skills. She doesn’t look at her with pity or disgust.

She simply says, “I’m sorry,” and opens her arms, an offering of a hug, and Inej can’t remember the last time she so willingly allowed someone she didn’t know well to touch her like this.

As they have grown closer, Inej realizes how different friendship with a girl can be. It makes her feel like the young woman she is, giggling and gossiping. Nina braids her hair and tells her all about the Fjerdan man she has fallen for, and Inej listens intently.

“And what about you, hm?” Nina asks. “Has anyone caught your eye?”

“Maybe,” she replies, unable to keep the smile off of her face. Deep down, she knows that nothing will come of it. It’s just a silly schoolgirl crush, but she’s never had a serious crush before, and never had a friend to talk to about it.

“Well, you must tell me now! Who is it?”

Inej chuckles fondly at Nina’s enthusiasm. “It’s nothing, really. He isn’t interested, and even if he was, I don’t know how I would even…” she trails off. “I mean, I don’t know if I could be with him. In that way, at least.”

Nina extends her arms, and Inej leans into her chest, accepting the hug. “If he’s a good man, that won’t matter to him. And just because you have trauma doesn’t mean you can’t overcome it.”

Inej hums. “I suppose. But it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like me that way.”

“He’d be a fool not to,” Nina says. “With this pretty face?” She pokes the tip of Inej’s nose with her finger, and they both laugh.

Pulling away from the hug, Inej runs a hand through the braid Nina gave her, the feeling of soft hair tickling her palm a comfort. The girls share a moment of comfortable silence before Nina speaks again.

“…Is it Kaz?”

“What? Of course not,” Inej replies, much too quick.

Of course, Nina can hear her heartbeat, can sense the lie with ease, and she squeals excitedly.

“Inej, you must know he feels the same! Every time you enter the room, his breath catches like he’s never seen you before!”

She knows that Nina wouldn’t lie to her, especially not about this, but she feels years younger when she asks, “Really?”

“Yes! Oh, he’d kill me if he knew I told you this, but I swear it. Every time you laugh, his heart skips a beat!”

Inej flops back against the mattress, butterflies in her stomach. But reality swoops in quickly, and the fluttering is gone. “But he can’t show it. You can feel he cares, yes, but if I ever asked him about it, he would deny it. He refuses to get close to anyone.”

Nina lays down beside her, touches their hands. “I know it seems that way, but I think if anyone could sweep Kaz Brekker off his feet, it’s you.”

She groans, putting her hands over her face. Nina cuddles up to her side, murmuring kind words that make her feel a little less hopeless.

That night, they sleep in Inej’s room together, because Inej mentions she’s never had a traditional sleepover with friends, and Nina decides that simply won’t do.

***

“Your heart is beating like mad,” is the first thing that Nina says when Inej enters her room. “What’s wrong?”

“Kaz touched me.”

“What?” Nina asks. Her expression isn’t one of excitement, though. It’s furious.

Realizing her mistake, Inej shakes her head. “No, not like that! In a good way. Or, I thought it was nice. He put his hand on my shoulder, just a quick brush. He was moving past me and it seemed like he didn’t even think about it…By the time I processed what had happened, he was already gone.”

Inej climbs onto the edge of Nina’s bed, grinning. “Is it ridiculous to be happy about something so small?”

“To some people, maybe. But that’s a big deal for you, and for Kaz!” Nina replies. Now that she understands the situation is positive, her joy matches Inej’s perfectly. “Look at you, all flustered,” she teases, poking at her side. “I’ve never seen you like this!”

Inej giggles, batting at her hand. “Just because you have had plenty of romantic exploits doesn’t mean we’re all used to it!”

Nina gives a mock-offended gasp. “Are you implying that I’m easy, Ghafa? You’d be correct, but it still isn’t polite!”

They both laugh. Inej feels young, happy, and carefree. She throws her arms around Nina’s neck and hugs her tight.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Nina asks, but hugs her back anyway.

“For being my sister.”

And if that sentiment makes Nina cry, well, no one needs to know that.

***

They are all down in the Crow Club, sitting at a table off to the side, chatting away and watching the people of Ketterdam drink, gamble, and dance.

Inej sits between Kaz and Nina, cradling a drink between her hands. It’s been a week since Kaz had casually touched her shoulder, and she hasn’t stopped thinking about it, and Nina hasn’t stopped teasing her about it.

She sits quietly, dark eyes flitting over to Kaz and back to the table, unable to stop stealing glances, but embarrassed at the idea of being caught.

Nina notices, because Nina notices everything. She’s smirking, and Inej flushes under her gaze. And Kaz…Well, Kaz seems to be in his own little world, leather gloves gripping his glass, scanning the room intently.

Nina scoots closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You aren’t very subtle,” she whispers.

Inej blushes and elbows her softly. “Is it really that obvious?”

“To me, yes. To our male friends? They remain oblivious as always, it seems.”

She gives a sigh of relief. She has no idea how to act with a crush, just as she had no idea how to act when she first befriended Nina. Being herself had seemed to work, but Kaz was an enigma. Half the time, she could barely tell if he liked her at all, and if it hadn’t been for Nina’s Grisha intel…

Her inner thoughts are interrupted by Nina tickling her neck, a spot she’d discovered while braiding her hair, and Inej makes a sound she didn’t know she was capable of: A high-pitched, girlish squeal, and it makes Kaz jump beside her, turning around with concern evident on his face.

Nina is grinning, one hand scratching softly at the side of Inej’s neck, the other sneaking down to squeeze her side. “Stop staring off into space and spend some time with us,” she teases.

Other than Nina’s playful pokes, she hasn’t been tickled since she was a child. She expected to loathe it, to feel helpless, but Nina is gentle and silly and it feels nice to laugh so freely, despite her embarrassment that Kaz is now watching them with a half-confused, half-fond expression.

She remembers Nina mentioning that Kaz’s heart skips a beat when he hears her laugh, and it’s perhaps the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. Now, in the dim light, when her eyes aren’t squeezed shut in mirth, she sees the ghost of a smile on his face, a tinge of pink on his cheekbones.

When Nina stops, Inej works through residual giggles, her head resting on Nina’s shoulder.

Maybe this is what girlhood is all about: Being happy, carefree, and loved. She certainly feels all that and more as Nina snuggles her close.

#tickletober #tickletober 2023 #augtickletober2023 #six of crows ticklefic #tickle fic #ticklefic #raspberry writes #six of crows

41 notes · View notes

kazscrows · 1 year

Text

Six of Crows Reread 🪶

Chapter 39: Inej

Inej’s heart careened against her ribs. On the aerial swings, there was a moment when you let go of one and reached for the next, when you realised you’d made a mistake and you no longer felt weightless, when you simply started to fall…

She’s getting dragged back into the prison…

Oh no oh no oh n—

Yeah Inej! Break that guys nose!!

And yay Jesper and Wylan!

It was all part of the plan

Sort of…

Jesper snatched the choker from Inej’s hand, mouth agape. “Kaz said we needed a diamond. He didn’t tell you to steal Heleen Van Houden’s diamonds!”

Oh lmao I forgot Heleen had a last name

There were plenty of other diamonds she could have stolen for their purposes and other trouble she could have made to attract the guards’ attention. But it was Heleen she’d wanted to dupe. For all the secrets she’d gathered and documents she’d stolen and violence she’d done, it was Heleen Van Houden she’d needed to best.

I still can’t believe they just killed Heleen off in the show like.. what the heck??

Inej needs to be the one to best this awful woman—

During the scuffle in the rotunda, Inej had made sure that she was too focused on being choked to worry about being robbed.

Inej your Kaz-ness is showing

The best way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re stealing his watch

The best way to rob Heleen is to try choking her to death—

“Hurry,” Inej said.

“Saying that doesn’t actually make me work faster,” Jesper complained as he concentrated on the stones. “If I just break them down, they’ll lose their molecular structure. They have to be cut, carefully, the edges assembled into a single perfect drill bit. I don’t have the training—”

“Whose fault is that?” put in Wylan, not looking up from his own work.

“Again, not helpful.”

Lmao poor Jes getting bossed around and bullied

Jesper, Wylan and Inej might actually be the most chaotic trio of the bunch

Just. Constant Panic!

So much screaming

Then she was running, her feet light, her silks like feathers. In this moment she didn’t mind them. She’d duped Heleen Van Houden. She’d taken a little piece of her away, a silly symbol, but one she prized. It wasn’t enough – it would never be enough – but it was a beginning. There would be other bawds to trick, slavers to fool. Her silks were feathers, and she was free.

So so proud of her

It was an impossible leap, a mad leap, but she was once again her father’s daughter, unbound by the rules of gravity.

And you know what?

She succeeds

She doesn’t fall, she flys-

Every time Inej thinks about her dad I’m so soft-

Ajzxbnxdsafh

I’m giddy-

Here comes the tank scene—

Inej figures out the guns so fast!

“Prettier than diamonds” Inej thinks as she shatters a massive glass wall with essentially a missile

Destruction is a love language

Inej heard footsteps and clanging as Jesper and Wylan climbed onto the tank. Jesper’s head appeared, hanging down from the dome. “You letting me drive?”

The image of Jesper poking his head in and hanging upside down is really funny to me

I should draw it

Also question-

Would Jesper be good or bad at driving a car?

Does the grishaverse have cars?

“Oh, hello, darling,” he said happily. He pulled another lever, and the armoured wagon seemed to shudder to life around them, belching black smoke. What kind of monster is this? Inej wondered.

“That noise!” she cried.

“That engine!” cackled Jesper.

He’s in love

Wylan has competition

Wylan had scratches from the glass all over his cheeks and neck. He was beaming.

Jesper has introduced him to the thrill of danger and violence—

Wylan clutched his middle, still snorting laughter, and pointed downwards. Trailing behind them was a banner, caught in the tank’s treads. Despite the smears of mud and gunpowder burns, Inej could still make out the words: STRYMAKTFJERDAN. Fjerdan might.

Absolute legends

First | Previous | Next

#technically it’s still the same day for ten more minutes so I didn’t lie about when I’d post this-#inej ghafa #six of crows #shadow and bone #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone season 2 #grishaverse #reading #books #leigh bardugo #kazscrows #kazscrowsreadssoc

21 notes · View notes

jaybird-fanfics · 1 year

Text

Villain Roommate |Chapter Eighteen|

"My...quirk?" You didn't remember telling him about your quirk. No, you most certainly didn't say a thing about your quirk to Shigaraki. So, how could he have possibly figured out? Your mind automatically went to Dabi, he's the only one out of this group of misfits that know about your quirk. Did he sell you out? Even after he made you keep it a secret? That motherfucker. If you lived to see another day after this, you were going to beat the shit out of him.

"Yes, your quirk. The healing and all that." Shigraki said with a bored tone. "I want you to use it for me." Your jaw was clenched tight. What could you say to that? Lie, it was all you could do. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a quirk." Shigaraki was not amused. "You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying." You say as calmly as possible. "Don't try and fool me. You think I would waste my time on some woman for no reason? I know you have a quirk, and you'd do well to listen to what you're told." Shigaraki said in a low tone. "Otherwise..."

You suddenly felt something pointy poking your back. You slowly turned your head to see that same blonde girl from before. Himiko Toga. She was grinning at you, knife in hand, ready to stab you when given the order. "I assure you, Toga will not be swift, she'll take her time with you." Shigaraki chuckles. Panic started to set in. Your eyes fell onto Dabi, he looked tense. You pleaded with him through your eyes, begging him to do something, anything.

'You said you'd protect me...Please Dabi.' You silently plead, tears starting to fill your eyes.

Dabi grumbled something inaudible under his breath before stepping forwards. He took the knife from Toga and tossed it somewhere. "Hey!" Toga whined. Dabi glared down at her, a warning. She rolled her eyes and backed away from you. "Dabi, you mind explaining yourself." Shigaraki said lowly.

"She'll do it. So stop with the threats."

You looked up at him, shocked. Was he really making this choice for you? Oh he was only getting closer and closer to that ass beating you promised. But you had no room to complain, as Shigaraki spoke again. "I want to hear it from her." You swallow a lump in your throat before speaking.

"I-I'll do it."

"Wonderful!" Shigaraki grins. "I hope you know, there is no backing out after today. You will do what you're told, when you're told. And if you fail to do so...Well, I think you know what will happen. You're free to go, for now." He laughs at the end. Dabi had the blindfold on you before you could think, he grabbed your arm and hastily began to walk out of the bar.

The tense silence inside the house was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Dabi watched as you pace back and forth for the hundredth time. He was getting sick of it. "Would you stop that?" You stop in place, turning to glare at him. "Oh I'm sorry, is my freak out annoying you? I do so humbly apologize!" You bitterly spat. "Look, just calm down and we can figure this out and then-"

"And then!? And then what!? Also, "figure this out", yeah right! I was basically just made into the medic for one of the most dangerous villain groups in Japan! There's nothing to figure out!" You yell, though you didn't mean to. But you were just so frustrated and scared. And you don't know what to do. "I never wanted to get mixed up in this! I never wanted to get mixed up with you in the first place! And now, I'm forced to use my quirk on a gaggle of murderers!"

"Yeah well, get over it. You're in this way too deep now."

Dabi's harsh words only made you more upset. "Oh yeah? And just who was it that told Shigaraki I had a healing quirk?" Dabi narrowed his eyes. "You saying this is my fault?"

"I know it's your fault!" You exclaim. "You were the only one who knew about my quirk, and now suddenly, Shigaraki does as well. What did he offer you? Did he promise you something worth your while if you ratted me out? I knew I shouldn't have trusted you, no, I never trusted you from the start. I should have seen this coming. You're really no better than the dirt in the ground, you know that?"

Dabi's scowl deepened. "Newsflash sweetheart, Shigaraki's had eyes on you ever since he first met with you. He knew you had this quirk for a fucking hot minute, so don't you dare go blaming this on me."

Wait, what? Shigaraki's been watching you? This whole time, you've been spied on? Then...Dabi didn't tell him about your quirk. He really did try to keep it a secret. But why? Why put in the effort to do that for someone he just uses? Did he...care about you? At least enough to not have your murdered by some psychopath, so he could keep using you. Yeah, that had to have been it. Dabi didn't really care about you. Why would he? He's a villain after all...

But still, you felt guilty about blaming him. "I'm...I'm sorry." You murmur. "I just...I had no idea he had been watching me this whole time. Why didn't you tell me?"

"He threatened to kill you if I did say something." Dabi explained. "I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. I just thought, he'd never find out. But, he did. And now, we need to stay calm and figure this out." A sigh escaped you, he was right. You shouldn't be so quick to loose your head. But how could you not? After everything that's happened, you were being used by one villain, and now you'll be used by more.

"What am I going to do Dabi?" You choked out. "I'm scared..."

"I said I would protect you right?" Dabi crosses his arms. "That's what I'm going to do. As for you, just do what he says, for now at least. I'll figure a way out of this somehow." You felt your shoulders shaking, as if the temperature dropped significantly. "Is...Is he still going to watch me?"

"Who knows? Though if I had to say, then probably yes."

That's when the dam broke, tears waterfalled from your eyes. Choked sobs left you as you cried. "Come on, I said I don't do well with crying." Dabi sighs. "But-"

"No buts, just stop." Dabi tells you. "I can't!" You sniffle. "Dabi, I can't take much more of this..." Your hands wiped at your eyes, you didn't see Dabi walk over to you.

And you didn't expect him to hug you either.

Previous | Next

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

18 notes · View notes

thirdrootwriting · 6 months

Text

Brother of my Brother (Infinite Crisis - Bad End) pt1

I am sorry if the timeline events of Infinite Crisis here are a bit wonky. Also we are going with Nightwing run version of Jason and Dick's first meeting, bc that one's my favorite.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

The world nearly ended, it does that sometimes. A great, physics-defying colliding of universes and cosmic god-beings that required every sucker that's ever donned spandex -and occasionally some semi-willing, saner rouges- to put their noses to the grindstone , kick some ass, and maybe fart out a few inspirational speeches if you were the friendly paragon type like Superman, the Flashes, or darling Nightwing.

Jason's involvement in the whole thing had been minimal. He'd busted up some of the weird-ass robot things that preceded the main event, spared a whole goddamn sympathetic wince for the poor bastards that had to fight Superman's evil alt-universe son, and knocked around a couple of wannabe thugs that thought Bludhaven getting nuked was a chance to start getting cute with some profiteering or trafficking on his turf in nearby Gotham.

Not too helpful, cause Jason wasn't one of those fools wearing spandex anymore. (He had actual pants now, imagine that!). Not too unhelpful, cause he was a fool choosing to live in Gotham, and he'd prefer his city to not be a radioactive wasteland trashed by robots and mad Kryptonians and his universe not to be melted or unwritten or whatever cosmic bullshit the villain de jour had planned.

Eventually, the dust had settled. Heroes had run back to their claimed cities, the JLA fucked off back to space, and the various tech whizzes had actually started bothering to lock down or shut off the emergency channels they'd thrown together to call out the all hands on deck situation, making it a lot harder for those that weren't exactly invited to the party to listen in.

Leaning back onto his ratty but comfortable couch, in an apartment that edges closer to housing rather than a safehouse, Jason is now instead idly trawling through the official responses published by the JLA, the Titans, and a couple of the more put-together, public facing heroes.

He's not a bad hacker, far better than most, but Jason really only gives a fuck about information relating to Gotham and its vigilantes. (And well, formerly Bludhaven. Sucks to suck, circus boy, looks like even the great Nightwing fails sometimes). There's no way Oracle doesn't have anything Bat-related on lockdown already, and Jason's not fool enough to tangle with her in her home court like that.

He scratches his neck.

Nah, he'd rather not have cop-girl turned surveillance-woman rat out his location or get in his systems cause he'd gotten curious and poked his digital nose into whatever terse, control freak communications Batman was sending to the League and his little solider boys. Jason could just paint a general picture reading between the lines of official, publicly available reports, and then investigate through other, more in-person means after. Shake some people down, break into government offices that sort of thing.

Well, first off, it seemed his snobby little replacement was going to be in Gotham for a while. There's a short, despondent little announcement from knock-off Robin's knock-off Titans that due to the tragic loss of Superboy in the recent crisis, Young Justice would be suspending activity.

It's followed by a short but clumsily sincere little memorial piece about Kon-El, like that's supposed to make up for the fact he's dead, like just posting a couple of cheesy pictures of cook-outs and daylight missions and blubbering out a few sentimental sentences about how kind and heroic the deceased was enough to make up for his violent death.

Jason scratches his neck again. His nails are cut almost to the quick so they don’t catch his skin, don't draw blood, don’t really get rid of the itch.

Batman's more of a problem, as always. He'd never deign to give anything as mundane as a public statement, of course, but the JLA has an actual PR team and a constant need to maintain an image of transparency in front of the general public and its many trigger-happy governments. They've put out a handy list of various commendations being given, memorials being held, and ongoing efforts of various heroes to help with the after effects of the tragedy

Jason idly opens the memorials tab for some rubber-necking after he's finished investigating. He doesn't even bother glancing at the award ceremonies page (no Bat would fucking ever).

Little mention of Batman in any of the rebuilding projects or various JLA committees on preventing this horrible tragedy from ever occurring again . (Even though they all knew something similar would happen in another couple of years, cause the universe tries to off itself on damn schedule these days).

Jason sighs. Nary a sign of the Bat on anything from the JLA, and the various social pages and gossip rags of Gotham were mostly empty of their favorite drunken fool, Bruce Wayne.

If Jason was lucky (and he never was), the Bat was on some short, international mission that would be finished up before the Red Hood's even had time to finish shaking down air traffic control for their records of Batplane sightings. If he's unlucky, the old man's on one of his long-term out of the city projects or stupid self-discovery journeys that seemed to mostly involve screwing morally grey spies and assassins.

If he's supremely unlucky, though, Batman's fucked off to space or some alternate dimension to do this this, that, and the other cause he's similar to Jason in at least one regard. Occasionally they had to give a shit about the stability of the universe and the fate of the world, cause that's what Gotham is sitting on.

Uggh, it better not be that last one. Shaking down or threatening a Flash or Lantern would be a goddamn pain and require a fuck-ton of planning (steal some shit from Freeze? Lure the space cop into a sulphur mine? Might just be easier breaking into the Batcave.)

Jason rolls his shoulders face twitching into a grimace. He hasn't decided what he wants to do or say or whatever the next time he sees Batman, but he does know he wants it on his fucking terms. He's never gonna have a moment's peace if he doesn’t' figure out where Batman's lurking.

Shit, worst comes to worst he'll beat the Bat's location out of his shiny new Robin or prod it outta Nightwing who's almost certainly an emotional wreck now that Shithaven's radioactive rubble.

…. Maybe the Red Hood will even buy Nightwing a beer instead of greeting him with a gunshot outta consideration for his loss next they meet. Might be worth it so that Jason can see pretty, perfect Dick Grayson floundering in failure like the rest of the mortal world regularly had too, the prick.

Feeling a bit calmer, Jason settles back into a sprawl and starts casually perusing the JLA's page of memorial announcements for people he might've met with Batman or Dick. He idly scrolls down the page, stopping once in a while to search engine a name that rings absolutely no bells on the off chance it’s a rebranding instead of new-blood or a total no-name. After all he very much doubts any mid-to-late twenties men are going around calling themselves Aqualad, or fucking Speedy.

Near the bottom of the alphabetically organized page is a blue hyperlink that reads 'Nightwing'.

Jason blinks. Clenches and unclenches his left hand. That's … a weird fucking way to list a memorial for the city of Bludhaven.

He knows a lot of the old core Leaguers like to fawn over Robin Number 1, Superman especially, and that Nightwing's probably the only non-exploded, halfway decent person left willing to admit association with Shithaven, Gotham's poorer, dirtier little sister-city, but still. Not super tactful.

Jason stares at electric blue of the hyperlink for another couple of seconds, then clicks on it.

'The public memorial for the hero known as Nightwing will be held at 5pm on October 24th on the public access field in front of Titian's Tower. A beloved figure of the hero community, founding member of the Titians, and known associate of Batman, Superman, and many other long time Justice League members …'

The word 'Robin' does not appear once on the entire page, Jason notes hysterically. Like every two-bit thug with half a brain cell left after Batman's regular beatings and Gothamite still sane enough to parse a newspaper don't know that the little, grinning dare-devil child mad enough to take on the night in Gotham armed with nothing but pixie boots and a smile, good enough to not just fucking survive that but stay laughing and kind, like they don't all know he grew up into their migratory bluebird who would swoop between the brighter, outside world and their resident shithole city, returning to the nest to help beat down their rouges, remind Batman to act like a freaking human being, and teasingly rescue little Robins that got in over their heads. Perfect, lucky, Dick Grayson, Gotham's little songbird that got to grow up and stretch his wings.

Jason numbly realizes he's started to chuckle, an ugly smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

A hideous cackling monologue that never really shuts up in the back of his memories laughs and laughs about dead birds, about Batman's failures. The sentences are impossible to fully parse, every other word punctuated by a crack of pain or an ugly giggle.

A soft, sharp, croon in his recently resurrected ears, as Talia-of-his-memory whispers, "Family and love are just pretty, useless words until they've been proven in blood and sacrifice."

Jason hurls the laptop across the room, shattering the bright screen displaying its memorial message against the wall then stalks off to grab his helmet. He needs to see for himself if this is, if Nightwing is . . .

. . . If it is true, he needs to know who. Needs to know badly, insistently, itchingly cause Jason really fucking doubts whatever JLA fuck that wrote the page, or Titan hanger-on that organized that memorial actually loved Richard Grayson that way his brother deserved.

He sure as hell knows their father won't.

------------------------------------------

Six years ago

The first time Jason met his predecessor? (maybe his brother?) went . . . . alright.

Sure Jason's flubbed the gauntlet test thing that Bruce'd set up, Nightwing dancing circles about him with his fancy flips. Then that had been followed by the older teen basically dragging him about the whole city like a scruffed kitten as they'd raced through the streets to save Alfred dressed as Two-Face.

On the other hand, they'd basically raced the length of the whole city, bus-surfing and peeping into warehouses, and ended up fighting with some sewer-croc monster to save Alfred dressed as Two-Face cause Batman had flubbed his whole secret test thing worse. Jason had come out of that whole mess not looking too bad in comparison and gotten the official go-ahead to be Robin from both Batman and the original.

He'd parted ways with Dick kinda amicably. Dick had given him his original Robin suit (which was actually pretty cool) and his phone number to call in case Batman was being a 'stoic, immovable, grump' (actually a bit tempting to use cause Bruce had been snit over his car crash injuries). Jason in turn had passed over the new Nightwing suit Alfred had sewn up and repeated his challenge that he was gonna be even better as Robin so Dick'd better watch out (he'd gotten a raised eyebrow and a sigh again).

Not bad or anything. No hitting, no screaming (at him anyway, he's fairly certain Nightwing and Batman had it out behind his back at some point). No angry demands about who let a grubby, homeless kid have Robin's costume.

Still, Jason felt like Nightwing was just humoring him, and it rankled. Worse, was he knew why. In contrast to Jason's rather lackluster first night as Robin, Batman had shown him clips of Nightwing's Gotham debut right before he sent him out to catch him, and really those said it all.

A smiling young man in midnight blue and bright gold on a playful rampage through Gotham's darkness, a grinning Batgirl in tow. He knocks out street thugs with a showy, graceful kick on one screen, raids the Iceburg Lounge and talks down to Pengiun with an grinning, effusive, confidence on another, and on the final screen on the bottom right breaks into Arkham to play a prank on the fucking Joker, the clown's angry threats near drowned out by his fearless, undaunted laughter as he slips away.

"This is Nightwing" says Batman. "He'll be your test."

"That's Robin." Realizes Jason. "He's what I've got to live up to."

#infinite crisis bad end au #dick grayson #jason todd #dick dies during infinite crisis and everyone has a bad time #not yet but there will be severe middle child drama #right now here's jason in his villain phase having a bad time

6 notes · View notes

brandstifter-sys · 1 year

Text

These Dreams

Chapter 7: Not Dreaming (Ao3) (must be signed in)

For @dukexietyweek 2023 Day 7 - Soulmate

Word Count: 1583

Rating: T

Characters: Remus, Virgil

Warnings: ftm Remus, genderfluid Virgil, mtf Virgil, sexual themes, horror mention, soulmate dreams

After a long year of earning a PhD and several strange dreams, Remus decides that he’s earned a treat and goes to meet his favorite horror author, little does he know that the hot stranger on the subway researching soulmates is a lot more connected to her and him that they’re willing to let on.

---

It had been one hell of a year! Remus was finishing his last semester and getting his PhD, despite his sleeping troubles and crazy dreams. He was gonna therapy the shit out of people! And to celebrate he was going to a book launch and signing. And yes, it was tame and boring, but it would be worth it to meet the woman behind his favorite horror stories. He’d been dying to meet her for years!

Remus truly hated the winter and bundling up, especially when it got too warm on the train. There was nowhere to put his trenchcoat if it got crowded! Still, he was happy to people-watch as the subway rolled down the track, stopping to let people on and off. There were so many different kinds of people on public transport, from odd old ladies to bros to musicians to edgy kids. And sometimes there were people who just stood out.

He was sitting away from the doors, holding his messenger bag in his lap, excited to get his favorite novel signed. Breath of Filth was probably Violetta Hoffmann’s masterpiece. He was bouncing his leg with anticipation as the train pulled to a stop. Just three more stations and he would be right outside the bookstore.

And that’s when his heart stopped. He was used to edgelords coming and going, but the man that stepped on the train with a backpack was eerily familiar. Remus swore he knew him, from that pallid complexion to the purple in his hair. And then that person decided to sit next to him without saying anything.

“Hey, where’s a snack like you headed?” Remus hummed once the train started moving again.

“Uh, why would I tell you?” he asked. His voice was so deep and rumbling. Remus swore he might swoon like a fool, or his brother…same diff, really.

“I dunno! Because I’m not like those guys in the Matrix and because you like me more than you like anyone else on the train!” Remus giggled and shimmied. The guy rolled his eyes, but he smiled slightly.

“Pharmacy. Bookstore.”

“Really? Me too! Ooh! Are you going to the signing? Vi Hoff is signing copies of her new book! She doesn't make public appearances, so this is extra special! Are you into horror stories?” Remus gushed and held his bag to his chest.

“Yeah. Are you bringing another book?”

“Mhm! It’s my favorite, probably her best work yet! But I’ll let you know if Once Upon a Nightmare measures up once I read it! I’m excited too. Apparently it’s about soulmates who lost their souls and they’re tormenting this young couple living in their house. I hope there’s lots of blood and zombies and horrible body disfiguration! She writes them so beautifully!” Remus rambled. He was gushing so much that he didn’t notice the stranger was blushing.

“I heard she isn’t signing anything other than that book. Hate to break it to you.”

“That’s okay! Meeting her is more than enough,” Remus beamed, “Even if she’s a raging bitch, I’m too stoked to let that get me down!”

“Why’s that?” he questioned as the train came to a stop and the announcer droned the name of the station.

“I just finished my PhD, and there’s no way I’m not getting that document now!”

“PhD?”

“Yeah! It took forever! But when you’re set on poking brains, it’s worth it!”

“Psychology?” the man asked, half expecting Remus to be a mortician or forensic specialist.

“Yeah! What do you do?”

“I research and write. It's nothing special."

"Are you researching something like medieval torture or fucked up mythology?"

"What?"

"I dunno, you shrugged it off so you're trying to hide it, which means either it's juicy or you're not confident. I'd rather think it's juicy than a hottie, like you, isn't confident!" Remus said brightly.

"I'm researching soulmate myths and trends in fiction."

"Like the eye color thing and the red string? That's so cool! What's your favorite one?" Remus gushed.

"Uh, soulmate dreams," he winced and rubbed his neck.

The train came to a stop before Remus could ask for more details. He and the stranger got up and got off. He was determined to keep up the conversation.

"What are soulmate dreams?" Remus asked as they climbed the steps. They made their way across the street to the bookstore in silence. This guy was hesitant, probably not used to talking about his interests.

"Uh, it's an old myth," he finally responded as people rushed past them, "Basically if you're near your soulmate, you'll share dreams."

Remus paused once they were above ground and looked at the stranger. He was avoiding eye contact and blushing furiously. There was something so familiar about him.

"That's pretty cool! Maybe you can tell me more about it after the signing, since you have to go to the pharmacy first and stuff. We could grab coffee, uh—I never got your name. I'm Remus!"

"I'll find you inside," he said shyly, "And you can call me Virgil, or Virge."

That name hit Remus like a piano in an old cartoon. He knew that name. He knew that face. His mind was fucked up but there was more to this guy. He needed to know more!

"Okay! I can't wait!" Remus beamed. Virgil tilted his chin and hurried off to the pharmacy next door. Normally Remus would take that as a sign that someone was too nervous to say no, but this time he was hopeful.

He headed inside and skipped past the line of people waiting for the illustrious horror author. He had his eye on another book by his old professor that he just couldn't find anywhere.

But luck was on his side! He found the book and paid for it just as Violetta Hoffmann showed up and sat down. He was quick to get in line, even if he was near the end.

From his vantage point, Remus could admire her without losing his mind. Vi was really pretty, with long dark hair and strong arms on display—arms with tattoo sleeves! He was there as a fan, but he was having a straight moment. And it only got worse as he got closer to the front of the line.

"It was so nice to meet you! I can't wait to read this story! Thank you so much!" the teen girl in front of him gushed and hugged her signed copy to her chest.

"Of course. And don't stop writing your story, it sounds cool," Vi said and the girl ran off.

Remus stepped forward, realizing that he wasn't last in line. Vi looked up at him with a smirk and motioned him closer. Remus got a better look at her ink and his heart thundered in his rib cage. He knew that tattoo pattern—he had a drawing of it!

"I thought you might've decided to leave," Vi hummed and signed the next copy of her book on the table.

"Me? But I never—" Remus started but froze when he saw her face again. He knew that face from his dreams!

"Subway," she said quietly. A grin split his face.

"It was nice meeting you, but I have to sign a few more books, and I have plans after this I don't want to miss," she said and handed him the book.

"Thanks! Me too! I'm meeting him here after this!" Remus giggled and skipped off to find a seat in the cafe to read. He didn't miss the soft blush on her face as he left.

Remus was excited and comfy with his jacket on his chair, a coffee in front of him, and completely engrossed in Once Upon a Nightmare. It was such a good story with just the slightest hints of the terror in store! He was just finishing up chapter one when someone cleared their throat.

"Is this seat taken?" Virgil asked when Remus looked up. He was holding a coffee, back in his jeans and hoodie, without any hair extensions or make up, except for the eye shadow. Remus marked his page and grinned.

"Only if you take it!"

"Thanks," Virgil muttered and sat down.

"So, soulmate dreams," Remus mused and marked his page. Virgil winced and rubbed his neck.

"Yeah."

"Is there any chance you're having them? I'm starting to think I might be. I keep seeing this total babe with these gorgeous blue eyes and this deep rumbling voice."

"You know what, I have. A little gremlin of a man keeps showing up," Virgil chuckled, and flipped his bangs.

"He sounds sexy!" Remus laughed, "Unless you're looking for something platonic."

"Romantic?"

"Not necessarily, but I don't mind a little intimacy and a lot of bumping uglies and smoochies!"

Virgil snickered and shook his head. Remus was cute. He scooted closer and gently grabbed Remus' chin, getting the impish little man to look at him.

"I know this is a little sudden, but can I kiss you? I keep waking up before I can."

Remus shook his head and grabbed Virgil's face.

"Not if I kiss you first!" he jeered and pulled Virgil down to meet his lips. It was instant, the euphoria and connection came easily. Remus was melting inside.

Virgil moaned softly and pulled Remus closer. Remus never wanted the kiss to end. It was almost magical. He didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he did know that he wanted to make Virgil a huge part of his life.

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #ftm!remus #mtf!virgil #genderfluid!virgil #dukexietyweek2023 #day 7 #sex mention tw #horror mention tw

10 notes · View notes

gnattyplayssims · 1 year

Text

1945 Pt1 - Aftermath of War

"So what do you think? I know it could still use some work but there was so much to do with the rest of the place there really wasn't the time."

"It looks great Kailee, but um...where do we sleep."

"Oh that's a Murphy over there."

"Ah so no privacy."

Knox pulled away from her massaging his scarred hands. "Is everything alright?"

"It's just...this isn't really the home I had in mind."

"How could be, when you weren't here. I had to make due, Knox." "But now we're supposed to live in this little shack...all three of us?"

He sighed and pulled her against him. "I'm sorry, I just had thoughts of what I wanted to do with you when I got home and now...Carleton will be right there."

"Like what?"

He pulled her into a searing kiss. "Like that for one. Among other things."

"You're different."

"Different how?"

"She lay her head on his chest, "I don't know, there's something in your eyes."

"Kailee...I wasn't exactly picking flowers for the last 5 years...I'm not the same man." He pulled away from her. "I...was going to go take a bath...would you like to join me?"

[Some pictures removed for censoring]

He led her into the bathroom and took his time massaging her head and scrubbing her back. She was so soft and unblemished and he hated the way his scarred hands scraped against her skin. His hand started to tremble and he paused.

"Everything alright?"

"Ah yeah, just...in awe!"

He dropped the sponge and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I want to try something with you. Something we've never done. Turn around"

She did as she was told and despite her inexperience, for a short time her mouth felt like heaven.

But she did not enjoy it.

A few weeks later he joined Kailee on one of her trips to Grim's Quarry and was waiting for her at the bar. "Looks like you need something stronger than that juice."

"Do you know of anything?"

"A few things but the drinks probably safer. Let me guess, problems with the wife?"

He looked at the woman and nearly choked on his juice. She was the most attractive woman he'd ever seen. "What makes you say that?" "You have that look. You fought, probably hooked up a couple times, now your wife can't seem to satisfy that raging ache inside you."

Knox took a long swig of his juice. This woman had him pegged. Kailee had barely allowed him to touch her after their bath. Always insisting their old ways were just fine. But it wasn't enough for him anymore.

"Guess who?"

"This is a bar Kailee not a playground."

"Ah you must be the wife."

Kailee finally seemed to notice her, "Who's this?"

"I don't know, we just met."

"It's Nightingale but I'm just passing through so there's no need to remember."

"Let's go, Knox."

"Let me finish my drink."

"Fine, I'll be outside."

No sooner had the door closed on Kailee but Nightingale's arms were around him. "You're a lucky man Knox. A pretty wife like that shouldn't have to worry about a woman like me. But we both know that's not the case. So if you get tired of the domestic life...come find me."

Knox tried to forget Nightingale but her voice kept him awake at night. The memory of her finger trailing down his spine had him tossing and turning.

"I want a divorce."

"Excuse me?"

"A divorce. We both know this isn't what we signed up for. We've changed. Both of us."

"Don't you dare try to pin this on me! We promised forever. Till death. I'm not backing out on that!"

He seized her wrist as she poked her finger into his chest. "Just listen will you."

She pulled her arm free, "There's nothing to listen to."

"You're being difficult."

"Me? This is about that woman in Grim's Corner isn't it?" His silence told her everything she needed to know. "Fine go be with your mistress."

"She's not my mistress."

"Don't fool yourself. If you want to destroy your life be my guest but you won't destroy mine along with it.

Knox headed back to Grim's Quarry as soon as he could. The sun was already setting when he arrived and the bar was packed. Despite the crowd he spotted Nightingale right away. The blood rushed to more than just his face when she smiled at him and started to make her way over.

Nightingale rested her hand on his chest and pulled him a little closer. "Let's go somewhere a bit more...private." He nodded and she took his hand, leading him to an alcove on the other side of the dance floor. His heart was beating wildly "Don't worry, they can't see us."

She turned toward him trailing her hand up his side, "I'm at your whim. Whatever you desire. Anything you want from me."

He tilted her chin up, "Anything?"

"Anything." She whispered. "I can tell you're a man of deep need. So drink of me, Knox. Let me sate you."

He silenced her then, pressing his mouth hard against hers and drinking deeply of the strawberry taste of her lips. She moaned as he moved down her neck and the sound made him wild. He needed her. Needed to devour her. To drink deeply of her body. To make her scream his name.

He pushed her to the couch but stopped, gripping her wrists. "What's wrong?"

He stroked her arm, "I think you're wearing too much."

"Perhaps you'd like to see what's underneath." He grunted in answer pressing his mouth to hers again and tugging wildly at her clothes.

He pushed her to the couch, his pants felt like they were getting smaller as he looked down on her. She took his hand, pulling him on top of her and slipping her hands under his sweater. That night he drank deeply of Nightingale and Kailee never once entered his mind.

1945 Pt2 - The Fall of Knox

#mizrahi legacy #classic generation #decades challenge #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 storytelling #ts4 legacy

3 notes · View notes

lackadaisydreamer · 2 years

Text

Midnight City pt4

He rummaged through the ash tray to find a cigarette, the end of a cigar, anything. Luck as always was on his side, and Jackpot found himself a cigar he had left earlier hardly even half done. He must have been in a rush when he put it out. His face was illuminated by a very ornate silver lighter, the glow of the embers on the end of the pungent cigar was the only light in the room before he leaned over and turned on a single small desk lamp. “ Who the hell were they?” He hissed. Only a single other person sat in the room, a woman in a tight trench coat with a tall collar. The very night sky seemed to have been woven into the fabric, her face hidden under a wide hat. “If you don’t know you really are a fool Biggs.” Snow lifted her face, offering only a smile of pearly white teeth framed in glossy black lips. “You’ve been throwing the Midnight Crew to the dogs to throw them off your scent and you didn’t think that would bite you in the ass eventually?.” She crooned. Biggs growled, only to have her suddenly appear behind him, leaning against his chair. “I told you, if you took this path you would regret it...” He slammed his fist on the table, making wood splinter against the walls. A pistol aimed at her head with a snarling warthog hovering his finger over the trigger.

“You really do think you’re invincible...I would love to find out.” He mused. “I wonder if the world would split like this bullet against your skull, or if it would simply go with a pop like a bubble...” She didn’t even give him the luxury of turning her head to look at him when suddenly his cigar was in her hand.

“I’m surprised you smoke such a cheap brand...” She flicked it away then walked towards the door. He threw down the gun and sunk back into his chair. He was starting to wonder if she was his prisoner, or if this was the other way around.

They all sat in silence, Slick driving and gripping the wheel tight. He had so many questions, what had Biggs wanted with Ms. Paint? Why were the Felt working for someone? He was getting confused, and angrier by the second. He looked in the backseat, Hearts was lifting a finger out of curiosity. Poking Ms. Paint’s cheek. “Don’t do that you moron!!” He barked, then quickly froze. Watching as Paint turned over slowly. Slick lowered his voice, wondering why his heart was beating so fast. “ Don’t wake her up, and dammit you stupid ape you can’t just poke people in the face!” Boxcars tapped his hands together sheepishly.

“She’s just...so squishy looking.” Slick facepalmed.

“Fucking hell Box...You don’t call women squishy!” Slick allowed himself one look, just one look. He felt his chest flutter as he quickly looked away. “She does look squishy...” He thought, driving once more in silence until they reached a manor that was white and pink with beautiful fountains and rose bushes everywhere. Slick hopped out as Deuce struggled to undo his seatbelt, kicking Droog to wake him up and help Clubs. Hearts gently tapped Ms. Paint’s shoulder, quickly backing up as if she were a bomb as she slowly sat up.

“O-oh!” She called out startled, looking around at the four men as the events of the night quickly slid back into her memory. Slick pushed his way past Hearts. “Hello, thank you...” She stuttered, hesitantly taking Slick’s arm as he offered it to her. Droog smirked, holding a very tired Clubs in front of him as he hiccupped and mumbled something about his stomach hurting. Hearts gave Slick a thumbs up as soon as he was out of Ms. Paint’s line of sight as Droog lowered his hat over his face to cover his laughter. Slick felt his face burn as he glared at all three of them. Ms. Paint took a deep breath.

“I would be happy to give you all a place to sleep tonight...I assure you that this is as safe as you can get, it’s very private, and has a state of the art security system.” Before she even reached the steps the large doors were thrown open and they were greeted by an elderly prospitian in a very well made suit running down the steps frantically.

“Mistress! Madame, heavens to Betsy!” He composed himself, straightening his back and offering a polite bow before addressing Ms. Paint again. “It’s all over the news! A gas leak at the casino...Mr. Biggs hasn’t made any statements, and you were nowhere to be seen- GOOD HEAVENS!” He suddenly noticed the four standing there, looking at them with surprise. “My sincerest apologies. I was unaware that...we had company.” He looked at Ms. Paint with confusion. She sighed, feeling a massive migraine coming on.

“Clyde a moment please do forgive me...” She let go of Slick’s hand, making her way up the steps and motioning for them all to follow. “It has been a very long night, and I am sure that ALL of you have many many questions and honestly so do I but that can wait until morning...please.” Clyde bowed, leading the gentlemen inside.

It was well lit, with marble and rich velvet as far as the eye could see. It was decorated in a very flattering dusty pink. Ms. Paint took off her gloves, Clyde seeing her in the light froze. She had bruises everywhere, her silk dress was torn and her hat was missing. “What on earth...Ms. Paint?” He was flabbergasted. “Did Biggs even see to you when the explosion happened?” Ms. Paint straightened her back.

“I will say this dear Clyde, I don’t want to to worry you.” Her voice was warm, but when turned her sweet face was cold and even made shivers run down Slick’s spine. “That fat bastard, as well as his brainless accomplices are not to be let anywhere near this place or so help me I will tear his stupid moustache from his gaunt face myself; and shove it so far up his ass? He will cough it up, and spit it out!” Her voice slowly built as she spoke, ending of with a sharp shout that made Slick raise is brows. What was this feeling? He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Boxcars leaned down.

“She’s good with words, you should take pointers.” He narrowed his eyes, cause...he was right of course. Clyde stood stiffly, his own face twitching.

“You mean to tell me Ms. Paint that he is the cause for all this?” Ms. Paint took a deep breath.

“yes Clyde, but really I will not be discussing this further...” She rubbed her face. “I have a splitting headache as it is so if you don’t mind, please give this wonderful gentlemen anything they need.” She gave them all a kind smile, taking Slick’s hand and looking into his eyes. “I truly can’t thank you all enough...goodnight.” Slick watched her walk up a staircase, as if hypnotised as the rest of the crew followed Clyde down a hallway. Droog looked down at his ankle, cursing. His white pants were bright red and his leg was aching. The bullet wound, he had almost forgotten. The alcohol had masked the pain but it was wearing off. His entire leg groaned in protest, he leaned against the wall as the pain shot up his body and he slid to the floor.

#homestuck #HomestuckAU #homestuck fanfic #fanfic #slickpaint #midnight crew #spades slick #diamonds droog #hearts boxcars #clubs deuce #mspaint

2 notes · View notes

forjongseong · 2 years

Text

taste // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: jay x fem!reader

genre: fluff and smut // warning: making out, fingering (slight?), unprotected sex // wc: ~2.1k

summary: you've been dating for a while and tonight is the night you decide to go for a taste of your boyfriend

author’s note: no because I literally wrote this after watching a WIRED video asdkjadhjkad. ANYWAY, this is related to the Camilo-inspired one shots, and this is where Jay and Y/N do the deed for the first time. quick and sweet, I hope this could be a fun read for you!

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @hee-pster @jaylaxies @aminatalks @thots4hee

(send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N had her head poking in the refrigerator, trying to make room for the newly brought groceries she had in her hands. As she finally set the box of milk and bottle of juices, she stood up straight and sighed, closing the fridge.

“Thank you for helping me shop,” she said to Jay, who was already tidying up the surroundings and washing his hands as if he owned the house too.

Jay replied with a nod. “What are we watching today?”

It was the typical Sunday afternoon where, if Jay did not have any schedules, the two of them would become couch potatoes and just watch anything newly released on Netflix. Y/N paused to think while she went to grab two glasses of water.

“I don’t think I feel like watching a movie,” said Y/N, walking towards the sofa. “My attention span does not seem to be long today.”

Jay trailed behind her. “What do you have in mind?”

Y/N’s face lit up as soon as she set the two glasses on the coffee table in front of her. Jay sat down right next to her, intrigued.

“The other day I was on this marathon of just the most random videos on YouTube,” Y/N grabbed the TV remote and went to type in the channel she was about to mention.

“WIRED??? No way, I love watching their content too,” Jay replied enthusiastically, leaning back on the sofa.

“Right? They have so many different topics,” Y/N’s eyes scanned the list of videos on the screen. “Oh, this one looks interesting.”

Jay watched as Y/N picked a video titled Taste Experts Answers Questions from Twitter. The video starts playing, and Y/N decided to make herself comfortable by leaning sideways, stretching her legs and resting them on top of Jay’s. Jay adjusted his position to make sure they were both comfortable.

The woman in the video started explaining the difference between tart and sour taste, and as the two of them listened intently to her answer, their expressions start to mimic each other—from intrigued to mind-blown—and after that they exchanged glances.

“I’m learning so much from just one question,” Jay claimed, resting his hand on Y/N’s knees.

“I know! That’s why I like these so much.”

As more and more questions were answered, the two stayed focusing on the screen—Y/N resting her head on her hand, and Jay drawing circles on Y/N’s thigh. He assumed that she was not going to be distracted, judging from her fixed gaze on the screen, but, boy, was he wrong.

Y/N started stealing glances whenever Jay was focused watching. She knew he could feel her tense whenever she felt his fingers grazing dangerously upwards, and this was confirmed by the way he smirked.

“Stop doing that, please,” Y/N said calmly, not really meaning what she said.

“Sorry,” Jay quickly pulled his hands away and crossed his arms in front of his chest, continuing to watch.

Y/N tilted her head. “I mean stop smirking like a fool, not stop touching me.”

Jay blinked before looking back into Y/N’s eyes. “You mean you don’t mind me touching you here?” His hands were in sync with the way he said ‘here’, and Y/N tried her best to swallow the gasp she almost let out because of how close Jay’s fingers were to her core.

The split second silence was so loud, but Y/N then shrugged nonchalantly. “You can touch me anywhere.”

Green light, Jay thought to himself.

At this point the two had been dating for a while, but their intimacy never went past heated make out sessions and obnoxious groping. For some reason, Jay wanted to try his luck today, and it seemed like it was working.

The video was already halfway done and Y/N managed to keep her eyes glued to the screen, despite the movements of Jay’s fingers on her calves, up to her knees, her thighs, and all the way near her core. It was like he was giving a massage, but with the least amount of pressure possible. It’s as if his fingers were just dancing on top of her skin, and Y/N started cursing herself for choosing to wear a short skirt that day. Or was it a blessing?

“I’m confused, what’s the flavor of Coca Cola?” said the lady in the video. Before Y/N could listen to the answer, Jay gently gripped her thigh, causing her to flinch for a second before looking at him, confused.

“I’m curious,” he started, pausing for a dramatic effect while Y/N was half-dreading, half-anticipating what was about to come out of his mouth. “What do you taste like?”

In less than three seconds, Y/N pulled her legs from Jay’s lap, stood up, and sat right on his lap, her arms circling behind his neck and her hand slightly tugging on his hair. Jay didn’t even have the chance to hide the stupid grin painted on his face.

“You’re just asking for it, aren’t you?” she looked at him right in the eyes as she watched his gaze soften. No, darken.

“Like I said,” Jay was now resting both his hands on Y/N’s waist. “I’m curious.”

Y/N leaned in and gave Jay one kiss. She pulled back before Jay even reciprocated.

“Okay, so what’s the taste?” Y/N asked, genuinely as curious.

Jay threw his head back, laughing. Y/N frowned. He then leaned forward and sniffed her neck before gently planting a kiss.

“I don’t mean your lips,” he said in a whisper, deeming that it’s unnecessary to raise his voice when they were this close. “I mean, here.”

Once again, Jay’s fingers found their way to Y/N’s core, but this time he was precise. To stop herself from moaning, Y/N pressed her lips to Jay’s, kissing him urgently. She started grinding on him too, letting him know that the way he was behaving was definitely bothering her in a good way.

Jay welcomed the advances and roamed his hands all over her body, remembering that minutes ago he literally got the permission to touch her anywhere. He started squeezing her hips before pulling her closer into his embrace with one hand, and cupping her face with another. Y/N was messy with her kisses, and Jay thought it was something new. He could not complain at all.

After a hot minute, Y/N pulled back and saw a string of saliva connecting both their lips. Jay was overwhelmed, so he decided to bury his face in her neck. He then caught a whiff of her scent and started sniffing, moving from one side to another. The friction between his pointy nose and her skin caused her to chuckle.

“Stop it, that tickles,” she said as she pulled herself away. “What are you doing?”

“You smell amazing,” Jay sneaked in one last sniff before pulling back. “What perfume are you using?”

Y/N squinted her eyes as she tried to remember. “I spritzed it this morning before I went out. It’s the perfume I made at that shop I told you.”

Jay started sniffing her again and Y/N thought it was pointless to ask him to stop. She sat there with her eyes closed and waited until Jay was done sniffing her all around. Before she could open her eyes, Jay playfully licked the spot under her ear, and she literally shivered.

“You know, if you really like the perfume,” Y/N started pushing Jay back by the shoulder. “You can just use it. It’s in my room.”

Jay shook his head. “It won’t smell the same if it’s not you using it.”

“Fair enough,” Y/N said. “You’re done sniffing?”

Jay chuckled. “No.”

He then proceeded to touch her core and slide his fingers down, eliciting a subtle moan from her lips. He grinned, looking satisfied, as he gently stroked her hair.

“You seem ready,” he whispered. Y/N felt goose bumps from the sheer vibration of his voice.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She asked, challenging him. She decided to speed up the process by taking off her top.

Jay carefully moved and held her close in her arms, thinking that it was best to do this on the floor. As he made Y/N sit in front of him, he started kissing her, not stopping as he swiftly made his way in between her legs, pulling her underwear off of her. She was now only in her bra and skirt, and he was still fully clothed. In her mind, Y/N thought that it was not fair, but she decided to not care about it for a while, looking at how she might be on the receiving end of something so blissful.

Being the gentleman that he was, Jay grabbed a pillow from the sofa and set it right behind Y/N. “Lie down,” he asked, almost like a command.

Ignoring her heart that was racing a mile a minute, she lied down and faced the ceiling, still feeling Jay’s fingers tracing her legs.

“Are you comfy?” he asked, trying to get a look of her face. Y/N nodded.

She heard rustling seconds before she felt Jay pushing her skirt up her waist. He started kissing her thighs, open-mouthed and wet. Y/N’s breathing became heavy, and Jay took the liberty to reach for her hand, setting it on his head, letting her know that she could pull on his hair whenever she felt like it. And she did.

The moment Jay kissed her folds, Y/N gasped and arched her back. He started to carefully suck on her clit, his fingers massaging the side of her thighs. She had one hand buried in his hair, while the other was shielding her eyes from the bright light almost blinding her. Jay licked a stripe from the bottom and upwards, and Y/N could not help but moan.

“Jay…” she whimpered, her fingers now tugging on his hair.

Jay continued with his ministrations, eliciting more moans and making her chant his name like it was a spell. Y/N felt like she was about to reach her high, and she almost made Jay whine when she started to pull on his hair tighter.

“Jay, stop,” she said in a hurry, catching her breath. “I need you closer.”

He nodded before kissing her core one last time, and then he pulled back, unbuckling his belt as fast as he could and pulling down his pants as Y/N waited, full of anticipation.

He crawled back to her, hovering over her body and positioning himself between her. She greeted him with a soft caress on his cheek, pulling his face closer for a kiss. Jay kissed her cheek softly before diving in for her lips, forcing his tongue in her mouth, letting her taste herself.

“That’s how you taste,” he said after pulling back. “Divine.”

Y/N smiled. “Stop making me blush.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Jay tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ready?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer, but between lining himself up and thrusting inside her, Jay gave no further warning. She moaned as she felt herself stretch, and Jay grunted at the feeling of her clenching around him.

“God,” he whispered, his eyes closed and his face buried in her neck. “I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

He started moving, and Y/N could no longer control the sounds coming out of her mouth. With every movement Jay made, and the way his hands skillfully touched every single surface of her skin, Y/N lost the ability to speak.

“Jay, I--” Y/N’s breath hitched and she started to grip his shoulders for support.

“You’re close?” Jay asked, finishing her sentence for her. She nodded as she looked into his eyes, needy.

“Don’t hold back,” he said as he started speeding up his thrusts. Y/N moaned with every snap of his hips and came while his cock was still inside her. Jay helped her ride out her high by slowing down, and seconds after that he pulled out, gave himself several pumps with his hand, and came on her stomach.

Y/N felt the warm liquid on her belly and looked down, still catching her breath.

“Sorry about that,” Jay said as he propped himself up and hopped off, leaning sideways. “I’ll get you cleaned up in a minute.”

“That’s okay,” Y/N smiled and slightly scooted over, making room for Jay to lie down beside her.

“Not bad for our first time, huh?” Jay looked at her sideways, hopeful.

Y/N covered her eyes with both her hands. “Don’t ruin it.”

Jay chuckled as he leaned in and kissed his lovely girlfriend on the cheek.

“I’m still waiting for you to help me clean up,” she said, gesturing down her torso.

“Right,” Jay quickly stood up and put his pants back on, trying his best to sprint to the kitchen. “Be right back.”

Y/N turned to look at the TV and saw the screen playing a random video from Wired, but it was on mute. She then started to wonder when exactly Jay decided to mute the TV, and if it was because he wanted to hear her moans better.

-END-

512 notes · View notes

dntaewithluv · 3 years

Text

Tempted, You Know | kth

Taehyung really is the perfect best friend. Especially when he lets you drag him to a Harry Styles concert last minute. But as the night goes on, temptation sets in and the line between friends and more starts to get a little blurred...

👠 Pairing: bestfriend!taehyung x reader

👠 Word Count: 5.2k

👠 Rating: 18+

👠 Genre: Concert au, best friends to lovers, fluff, smut

👠 Warnings: Explicit language, Y/N gets a little jealous/possessive, consumption of alcohol (neither of them are drunk though just buzzed pls drink responsibly!) Falling puts Y/N through it and Tae is super sweet and comforts her, some sexy dancing times in public, teasing, dirty talk, grinding, hair pulling, marking, biting, scratching, very minor and brief choking, making out, explicit sexual content, mention of oral (m receiving), groping, exhibitionism and mention of having an exhibitionist kink (they're fooling around in Tae's car in the parking lot after the concert), these two challenge and egg each other on a lot (they love to talk shit lmao), fingering, cum eating, mention of getting turned on by Harry Styles songs, it ends soft uwu

A/N: This is what happens when footage of Tae vibing to Woman at Harry's concert lives rent free in your head 🙂 Also another example of me yet again having too many ideas and just deciding to follow the chaos of my brain oops. I didn't see Harry on tour this year so my point of reference is exclusively from the Twitter vids and looking up his setlist and also the concert I went to in 2017 😂 Hope you enjoy this Tae fic that my brain demanded be written and thank you so much for always being so lovely and supporting me 🥰💜 Special shout-out to my Nanowrimo besties for helping me completely change my relationship with writing over the last few weeks and for just being my constant cheerleaders 😭😭💕

Masterlist

Taglist: @taegularities @lavienjin @illneverrecover @thatlongspringnight

“Hello?”

“Tae! My love, my bestie, my soulmate, my favorite person in the universe.”

“Oh no,” Taehyung groaned from the other end of the phone, “what did you do?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear. It’s more like I have a favor to ask. Just a little one.” you went on, playing cute as best as you could manage without having him in front of you.

“Oh, that’s it? You had me worried there for a second, not gonna lie. Well, what can I do for you, Y/N? My love, my bestie, my soulmate, my favorite person in the universe.” Taehyung playfully echoed your words back to you, causing you to giggle.

“Soooo, turns out my sister can’t go to the concert with me tonight. Would you pleeeeeeeeease be my angel and go with me? I’ll buy you a drink at the show and love you foreverrrr.”

You knew you were being ridiculous and laying it on thick, but you didn’t care if it got Taehyung to go to the concert with you.

“You know, desperation is not a cute look on you.” your best friend teased, and you pouted even though he couldn’t see it.

“Tae, please. I can’t go see Harry alone. I need emotional support for when he sings Falling, and who’s more emotionally supportive than my best friend.”

You heard a sigh from the other end, “Alright, I’ll go. I don’t think you’ll have nearly as much fun with me there though, I barely know his music. I’ll be there to pick you up in like two hours okay?”

“Thank you thank you thank you! And who knows, Tae, maybe you’ll end up surprising yourself and enjoy the concert after all.”

Taehyung chuckled, and you smiled at the sound.

“Yeah, who knows.”

As promised, Taehyung was letting himself into your apartment two hours later and immediately calling out for you to see if you were ready.

“Sorry, I’m almost ready! Just doing some finishing touches, I’ll be right out!” you yelled back from your bedroom.

You should’ve known your best friend better cause he was already poking his head into the room right as you finished putting in your earrings.

“Whoa. I thought you said we were going to a concert.”

You laughed as you turned from your floor length mirror to face him standing in your doorway, “Yes, Tae, but this is Harry fucking Styles we’re talking about. People dress for these shows. Plus, I’ve been putting this outfit together for months, and I’m really excited about it, so I don’t wanna hear any smartass remarks from you, okay?”

Your best friend held up his hands in defense, earning another laugh from you.

“I was just gonna say a heads up would’ve been nice because now I am going to feel severely underdressed standing next to your gorgeous ass all night.”

You flushed at the compliment, even though it was just Taehyung. The way his eyes seemed to linger just a moment too long as he took in your outfit for the night made your face feel warm. You had on a very low cut and sparkly gold tank that tied in the back with a single ribbon, and flared white pants covered in sunflowers, with glittering gold high heeled boots to complete the ensemble.

“Oh please, Tae,” you scoffed, “like you could ever look bad.”

You were surprised to see his cheeks reddening slightly, he was always so cute when he got flustered. You were just telling the truth though. Taehyung stood there, in a black graphic tee tucked into his jeans and a pair of sneakers, and he still looked like he had just walked off the cover of some fashion magazine. His midnight curls were styled messily and yet, somehow still looked perfect. You often asked him how it felt to be one of God’s favorites, and Taehyung always got embarrassed and bashful every time you did.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as his eyes flitted around your room, looking everywhere but at you, “So, uh, should we go? I’m sure traffic is gonna be awful, so I wanted to give us plenty of time to get there.”

You felt nervous too. Something just felt...different tonight. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was though. There was a definite question hanging in the air, held in the way you kept looking at each other without ever meeting one another’s eyes.

“Yeah,” you replied after what felt like forever, “let’s go.”

The drive to the venue was spent with you obnoxiously blasting and singing along to Harry’s music from the passenger seat of Taehyung’s car, him laughing and teasing you all the while. Things felt much more normal between the two of you, at least for the moment.

Taehyung kept you tucked into his side as you navigated through the sea of people making their way towards the entrance, and you hated the way you were all too aware of the warmth of his hand across your back. You couldn’t remember ever noticing just how big his hands were.

“Hey, you okay?”

Taehyung’s fingers flexed against your bare skin, prompting you to look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“You just, you’re trembling a little. Are you cold?” your best friend rubbed his hand up and down your back as he asked this, and all you could feel was heat.

You shook your head and let out a nervous laugh, “No, just a lot of people.”

Taehyung nodded and pulled you a little closer, and you could feel your heart hammering inside your chest. What the fuck was going on. This was Taehyung for fucks sake. Your Taehyung. Goofy, lovable Taehyung with his adorable boxy grins. Your best friend, and the person you loved most in this world. Platonically, of course. At least you had thought so...

“Should we get our drinks now or do you wanna go check out our seats first and then come back?”

Taehyung’s voice once again pulled you out of your maddening and confusing thoughts. Maybe a drink would help you stop overthinking and overanalyzing everything, and just let you loosen up and enjoy the concert with your best friend.

“Drinks first.” you answered almost immediately, causing Taehyung to raise a curious eyebrow at you.

“I promised to buy you one, remember? So, lead the way to alcohol.” you instructed as you pointed towards the nearest stand selling drinks.

Your best friend chuckled before continuing to pull you along with him to join the line beginning to form in front of the vendor. You heard the sound of some girls giggling nearby and turned to see them gesturing to Taehyung and whispering back and forth to each other. You weren’t sure what came over you as you clutched Taehyung tighter and leaned further into him, but it shut those girls up, so you were definitely satisfied.

Taehyung had finished his first drink by the time the show started, while you were only halfway through yours. The lights went out, and you gripped the railing in front of you in anticipation. Your best friend stood next to you with his hands in his pockets, but close enough to where his arm still brushed against yours.

You heard the familiar melody of Golden start playing, and you were immediately letting yourself get swept up in the adrenaline that only came from realizing a concert was starting. You were screaming, singing, dancing, all with zero shame. You kept catching Taehyung’s amused grin out of the corner of your eye as he watched you caught up in your own secret little world.

Your drink was completely gone by the time Adore You finished, and your best friend had just disappeared to get his second one. Harry was going off to Only Angel and so were you as you screamed along to the lyrics and danced around wildly. The energy in the room was truly electric, and you felt like you were high off of it, like you were on a different plane of existence entirely.

Taehyung reappeared just as She was finishing up, second drink in hand. You could feel his eyes on you as your hips swayed along to the infectious guitar solo as the song faded out. But you were slightly buzzed and living your best life, so you didn’t let it invade your thoughts too much. You were literally given whiplash when Harry started singing Two Ghosts next, as an intro leading straight into-

“No! What the fuck. He is not doing this!” you exclaimed as Harry Styles had the audacity to sing the opening line of Falling.

“Wait, what’s wrong!” Taehyung yelled, leaning in closer to you so that he could be heard over the roar of the crowd.

“Tae! This is the song!” you shouted back, and you watched as the realization crossed over his face.

He reached for one of your hands before intertwining it with his own and giving you a small smile. You squeezed his hand in thanks before turning back to the performance happening in front of you.

Taehyung gripped your hand extra tight every time the chorus came around as you screamed back the lyrics with everything you had. Tears had been welling in your eyes for most of the song, but as soon as Harry reached the bridge, they began flowing freely down your cheeks. You barely had time to register Taehyung using his hold on your hand to pull you in to where your back was flush against his chest, strong arms immediately wrapping around your front. You half sang, half sobbed along to the final chorus, Taehyung gently rocking the two of you back and forth and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Awww! I wish I had that!" you heard a girl cry from somewhere behind the two of you.

Something about the idea of her thinking you and Taehyung were a couple had a shy smile threatening to break out across your face. Your best friend released you from his hold as the song came to an end, and you found yourself turning around to face him. Taehyung's hands came up to cradle your cheeks, thumbs tenderly wiping away the tears he found there, "You okay?"

You nodded, every part of you fighting the urge to melt into his touch.

"I'm having fun with you, but I kinda want to punch that Harry guy for making you cry." he told you, leaning down close to your ear so you could hear him.

You giggled at the playful threat, and Taehyung squished your cheeks between his hands in response. He beamed down at you with that boxy grin of his, and you could feel the first sign of butterflies stirring restlessly in your stomach. He was so beautiful. It was something you noticed all the time, but it was more than that tonight. Tonight, he was brilliantly, beautifully, radiant.

Just as a very dangerous thought started to cross your mind, you heard the intro of one of your favorite songs, and also the one that had inspired the sunflower patterned bottoms you had chosen for the evening.

"Oh my God, Tae! I love this song!!" you voiced excitedly before moving to face forward again, putting a little distance between you and Taehyung as you did so.

You made the choice to focus all your attention on Harry's performance, rather than how badly you'd just been tempted to try to kiss your best friend. It wasn't long before you were once again lost in the music, your body moving on its own as you just vibed with the man on stage and the rest of the crowd. You managed to glimpse Taehyung finishing off his second drink before holding out a hand to you. You turned to him, a look of confusion adorning your features.

“Dance with me!” was his simple request as the corners of his lips quirked up into an inviting smile.

You laughed and shook your head at him, “Kim Taehyung, the entire time I’ve known you, I have never, ever, seen you dance.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t.” he retorted, reaching out to grab both of your hands, “Just means that you’ve never seen me do it.”

You raised a curious eyebrow at him, and Taehyung proceeded to use your connected hands to create a push and pull movement between the two of you in the little bit of space available. You just went along with it, your arms swaying in time to the music playing all around you. Taehyung seemed just as lost in the song as you at this point as he closed his eyes and let his body take the lead. You had never seen your best friend like this, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to the hypnotizing motions of his hips. Taehyung was feeling it, and you certainly were feeling something too.

His eyes suddenly snapped open to catch your staring, and the intensity of his gaze nearly had you stumbling backwards. In the next moment, he was tugging on your hands to twirl you into him, with your back meeting his chest once again.

“Told you I could dance.” Taehyung said, warm breath hitting your ear and sending a chill through you.

“You’re shivering again. Sure you’re okay?” he went on, the deep and teasing timbre of his voice almost unrecognizable.

“Tae.” you breathed out right as the next song started, but Taehyung was already letting you go as if nothing had happened.

Your hand shot out to tug on his sleeve to get him to look at you, “Why are you teasing me?”

Something sparked behind Taehyung’s eyes, and you watched a smirk form across his handsome features.

“Why are you?” he challenged back, making your cheeks flare red.

You pouted at him, and Taehyung chuckled.

“You should turn around, you’re missing your concert.”

Your pout changed into a full on scowl as Taehyung directed all his attention back to the stage, and you let your hand drop from his sleeve. Hopefully Harry wouldn’t see your clear resting bitch face that had nothing to do with him performing To Be So Lonely, and everything to do with the way the man next to you was driving you crazy. The two of you had never played this game before, and you weren’t even sure you understood the rules yet. One thing was for sure though, like hell you were gonna let him win.

Woman was next, and that song always brought out your inner hoe just in general. Now that you were hearing it live, still slightly buzzed and intrigued by whatever was happening between you and Taehyung, you were truly ready to act the fuck up.

You started off with subtle movements, just kinda swaying to the music. You gradually started making the motion of your body more dramatic, more sensual, letting your hips do all the work. You could feel Taehyung watching, so you made sure to give him a good show, hands trailing up your body as you did so. You turned to the side to glance at him, proud smirk on your face, only to find him no longer standing next to you. A gasp escaped you as strong hands gripped your waist and pulled you back against an all too familiar chest.

“Now who’s the tease.” Taehyung growled in your ear, teeth just barely grazing against your skin.

Looked like you were figuring out how to play this game after all.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tae. I’m just dancing.”

You insisted on playing dumb before swiveling your hips that were flush against him, Taehyung letting out a grunt behind you. You smiled to yourself, repeating the same movement and causing his hands to dig harder into your flesh. One of your arms reached up to wrap around the back of Taehyung’s neck, fingers snaking into his wavy tresses.

“Shit.” the man behind you hissed as you grinded harder against him, “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

His mouth was hot and hungry as it descended on your neck, and your head fell back on his chest at the foreign but euphoric sensation. Taehyung’s body moved in tandem with your own, the two of you in a completely different world than the concert still going on around you. Your nails scratched against his scalp. His teeth scraped against your throat. There was an obvious bulge in his jeans that was growing more prominent with each drag of your ass against his crotch.

“You’re, fuck, so lucky we’re in public right now.” he huffed right by your ear.

You chuckled and pushed back against him, hard, and Taehyung let out a strangled groan, “That hard to keep it in your pants, huh? Thought you would have more self control than that, Tae.”

“Shut up. Like you’re not fucking soaked right now.” he snarled back, one of his hands leaving your waist to begin sliding up your bare back.

Your breath hitched as his warm fingertips danced across your skin and slowly slipped under the ribbon that was the sole thing holding your top together. He gave the faintest tug against the material, and your nails dug into his neck in warning.

“You know, if we were anywhere else but here, I would be finding out for myself right now. Just how wet you were for me.”

“You sound pretty confident.” you shot back, but your own cocky facade was fading fast as his hand on your back traveled higher to press at the base of your neck.

“I know you, remember? And I know I could probably make you cum right here. Bet it wouldn’t take much. You’re already so wound up.” Taehyung went on taunting you, and you had never hated him so much for being right.

His large hand curved around your neck and he gave an experimental squeeze that had you clenching around nothing. Taehyung hummed, lips ghosting along your jaw, "Yeah, I fucking thought so."

His other hand was just starting to dip between your clothed thighs, when you both seemed to realize that the song had ended and Harry was now moving on to Cherry. The abrupt shift in tone jarred you right back to reality. Specifically, to the reality of what you had almost been willing to let your best friend do to you in a very public space. What you had wanted him to do.

Your hands left Taehyung at the same time that his arms retreated back to his sides. You quickly stepped away from each other, and the break in tension had you slowly coming out of your lustful haze.

You grabbed onto the railing in front you, still trying to anchor yourself back to what was happening around you. Taehyung appeared beside you a few moments later, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. To face the line you had both crossed, and what that meant for you and your friendship going forward.

You nearly jumped when you felt one of Taehyung's large hands envelop one of yours. He proceeded to tug on your hand, forcing you to finally look at him.

"Come on." he said simply, pulling on your hand once again as something mischievous sparkled behind his chestnut irises.

You laughed, feeling confused, "What?"

Taehyung leaned in closer, and his curls tickled the side of your face.

"Let's get out of here."

Your breath caught as your grip tightened on the railing. Oh the absolute temptation those words held…

"But the concert's barely halfway over." you pointed out, looking up at him.

"Yes, but all I care about and all I can think about right now is finding out how you look and sound when you cum." Taehyung pressed, his free hand starting its familiar journey up your back yet again.

Every time his hands were on you, you felt your brain getting fuzzy all over again. The beginning of Lights Up, thankfully, had the fog clearing slightly.

"Tae, I paid a lot of money for these tickets, and I've been looking forward to this concert for forever."

His hand dropped from your back as he pouted cutely at you. You couldn't help but giggle at the childlike reaction.

"Plus, I think we need to be rational and talk about what exactly this is, going on between us, before anything else happens. So let's just enjoy the rest of the concert, and then we can try to figure out whatever this is afterwards, okay?"

Taehyung sighed before shaking his head as he laughed to himself, "Yeah, okay, you're right. We really should talk about this first."

You smiled at him in thanks, and squeezed his hand that was still holding yours, happy to know you were both on the same page about this and could just focus on the remainder of the show.

"You know, this isn't exactly what I was expecting when you said we needed to talk after. Not that I'm complaining. I mean, this is a fucking fantastic conversation." Taehyung quipped, and you pulled back from marking up his pretty neck.

"Yeah, well, that was before I knew how much I liked kissing you." you countered before moving to pull his earlobe between your teeth.

Taehyung chuckled as his palms smoothed up and down the bare skin of your back.

"Mmm, I like kissing you too." he agreed, repositioning his head so he could connect your lips once more.

You sighed out softly as Taehyung licked into your mouth, his fingers teasing the ribbon still holding your top together. Your hands were making a mess of his already unruly locks, pulling and tugging, urging him to give you more. Taehyung nipped at your already swollen lips, and you rocked yourself forward against him.

"Fuck." he growled, "Did you forget we're literally in a car and still in the middle of a fucking parking lot full of people?"

Once it had been established that you would be waiting for a while to be able to get out of the insanely packed parking area, straddling Taehyung in his seat and engaging in a heated makeout session had presented itself as a pretty good way to pass the time.

"Relax, you baby. It's not like I'm giving you head in plain sight or anything."

His dick twitched beneath you, and you separated from his mouth to flash him a truly wicked smirk.

"Oh, but you wish I was, don't you?" you teased as you slid your hand down his chest before palming him over his jeans.

Something blazed in Taehyung's eyes, hungry and full of desire.

"Just for the record, I have wanted this for a while. Wanted you." he told you, dropping his hands to settle on either side of your waist.

Wings fluttered incessantly in your stomach, and you leaned forward to kiss him, soft and sweet.

"I think I have too. I just don't think I realized how much until tonight. Until I was willing to finally admit it to myself. But I do. I want you, Taehyung."

His entire face lit up with your favorite boxy grin, and you affectionately ran one of your hands through his mussed waves.

"Well, you have me. In the middle of a parking lot after a Harry Styles concert. You fucking have me."

Laughter overtook you, your body rocking forward with the force of it as you attacked Taehyung with kisses all over his face and hair. You could feel him smiling against your skin, and you reached for his hands to guide them back up to the still knotted ribbon. Taehyung's fingers gripped the thin material as he pulled back to meet your eyes.

"Have you always had an exhibitionist kink? Or is that just something I bring out in you?" he queried cheekily, giving the ribbon an experimental tug that had it loosening immediately.

"Maybe I just like the idea of people being able to see that you're the only one who can touch me like this." you said back, voice soft and sultry, and you felt Taehyung jerk under you.

His hands made quick work of undoing the ribbon, and he wasted no more time as his palms slid around to cup your breasts. A breathy moan left your lips, and you arched into his touch. You started moving against him again as he groped and kneaded your soft flesh. His head disappeared under your top a moment later, and you giggled at the way his hair tickled your skin. Your giggles dissolved into whines and cries, however, the moment you felt his warm mouth envelop one of your nipples.

"Tae, fuck."

You tipped your head back as your hands found their way under your top and back into his charcoal curls to hold him against you. Taehyung worked his teeth, tongue, and lips against your perked bud until you were having to bite down on your own lip to muffle all the sounds threatening to escape.

"I didn't realize you had such a marking kink." you breathed out as Taehyung sucked more spots of color onto your chest.

"I don't." he remarked, voice husky and deep, "It’s just because it’s you."

His words went straight to your core, and you started grinding against him with even more desperation in an attempt to alleviate the growing ache. Taehyung moved to begin marking up your other breast, his hands reaching around to grab at your ass to encourage your movements. His tongue flicked over your nipple, and you had to bury your face in his neck to cover up the constant moans and pants that were leaving your mouth.

“God, I love that I can make you sound like that. I can’t wait to see what else I can draw out of that sweet mouth of yours.” Taehyung murmured against you before trapping your bud between his teeth.

He had you so wrapped around his finger that all you could do was frantically clutch at his hair and whimper helplessly as he helped you rut against him. You were literally shivering from overstimulation by the time Taehyung’s fluffy head of hair resurfaced from under your top. You glanced out the window to see that the parking lot was significantly more empty now.

Taehyung followed your line of sight before using his fingers to grip your chin and turn your face back towards him. He looked absolutely wild right now. Eyes almost completely blown out, pretty lips pink and swollen, and his curly black tresses in complete disarray from your makeout session. The man under you laughed nervously, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Cause you look really sexy right now.” you replied, and Taehyung raised an intrigued eyebrow at you.

“You gonna let me make you cum? Right here, where anyone could see us? Or is that exhibitionist kink all talk?”

You knew he was challenging you, and you were quick to rise to meet him.

“I think you’re the one who’s all talk, Taehyung.” you fired back, smug smirk clear on your features.

“Hmm,” Taehyung hummed thoughtfully, “well let’s hope your screams don’t end up getting us arrested for public indecency.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna scream?” you pressed, and the devilish glint in his eyes absolutely terrified you.

His fingers on your chin and the intensity in his gaze pinned you in place while his other hand trailed along the waistband of your pants. With very little effort, he yanked them down to expose your nearly soaked panties.

“Shit. You really are dripping.” Taehyung hissed before cupping you over the garment with his palm, and you sighed out at the contact.

You sucked in a breath when his digits dipped inside to meet your folds a moment later. He slowly slid one long finger inside, drawing out a choked moan from you as he did so. Something about the way he was still making you meet his eyes as his finger fucked into you had fresh arousal coating your thighs and Taehyung’s hand. He glanced down and swore at the sight, adding a second digit and increasing his pace.

“Fuck, Taehyung!” you cried out, your eyes snapping shut in response to the pleasure.

“You’re so tight, fucking hell. Your cunt is just sucking my fingers right in.” he observed, voice clouded over with lust.

He slid in a third finger, and your head fell back at the delicious stretch. The car was filled with the lewd sounds of his digits plunging between your walls again and again as you bounced in his lap. Taehyung must’ve finally picked up on how badly you were struggling because he released your chin from his hold at the same time that his thumb strummed across your aching clit.

A hand flew up to cover your own mouth as your cries grew louder. Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the way his digits disappeared inside you, biting down hard on his own lip in concentration. You were practically thrashing on top of him, your orgasm approaching quickly from the way his fingers were playing you as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

“I’m so close, Tae. Please.” you begged him breathlessly as you lost the energy to hold your hand up and let it drop back down to your side.

“Let go for me, beautiful. Wanna feel you.” Taehyung coaxed, his thumb relentlessly stroking your bundle of nerves as his digits reached that spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back.

“Oh, fuck, Tae, I’m-”

His free hand clamped over your mouth just in time to silence your scream as you came undone. Taehyung continued to fuck you through it, and tears slid down your cheeks from the overwhelming stimulation. When he finally withdrew his fingers from you, you just slumped forward against his chest, breathing heavily. You heard Taehyung humming as he sucked his fingers clean, but it barely registered in your post orgasm state. A moment later you felt his strong arms enveloping your figure and holding you close.

“You gonna make it?” he asked you softly before pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Sure.” you mumbled back, “Right after I pass away.”

Taehyung laughed out loud at that, jostling you in his lap, and the sound made your heart feel impossibly warm.

“Well, you were definitely right about one thing tonight. That concert totally changed my perspective on Harry Styles.”

You used what little energy you had left to lift your head to gaze up at him, “So, what you’re saying is, you’re a Harry stan now?”

“I wouldn’t quite go that far, but I am grateful to him and his music.”

Taehyung beamed down at you, and you smiled back shyly.

“Although, I don’t think I’ll be able to listen to that Woman song without getting turned on.” he continued, giving you a knowing look.

“A Harry song is gonna make you pop a boner? Well, looks like my work here is done. I’ve converted you.” you quipped back, earning a poke in the side from Taehyung.

“Want me to finger fuck you until you cry again?”

You pouted up at him, “No, I wanna go home and cuddle and then go the fuck to sleep.”

Taehyung chuckled and shook his head at you.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for your cute ass.”

You leaned up to press a kiss under his jaw.

“Yeah, I’m the luckiest.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #networkbangtan #thebtswritersclub #bangtansorciere #bts #taehyung #possumswrite

1K notes · View notes