#I hope you curse my name as you fight for your life on the toilet the morning after | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jedisupernova · 18 days ago

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life with choi subong (thanos)

notes minors dni contains life before games, fem and aged up reader (same age as subong), always written with plus size reader in mind but truly anyone can read, a lot of made up lore to fill in gaps & build dynamic between subong and reader, smut (no distinct section. it is imbedded throughout; sexting, dirty talk, oral f and m receiving, vignettes of sub!subong, handjob, p in v, non-protective sex (don't be stupid,) public sex, foreplay, squirting), angst (lying, deception, miscommunication, arguing and gaslighting: cursing, pushing each other, one body shaming remark, a lot of name calling, insults, mentions of death, just being mean; this does not having a happy ending), toxic dynamic, mentions of drinking, drug use, problematic reader if you squint, i don't know how crypto works so don't yell at me, blatantly problematic subong, reader deserves better, a lot of dumbassery and some typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! this is also my very first post, and i want to show what i can do! this is really long. like, really long. this is my interpretation of the character, i hope you like it and please be nice!

he was the nail that chipped the day after you painted them; the incessant promotional email that never filtered to the spam folder; the fly you repeatedly missed when swatting; the shoelaces that always came undone; the built up phlegm after a particularly nasty cough; the shirt that shrunk when you left it in the dryer too long. but what could you say? the dick was too fucking bomb ...

you met on the night of your friend's birthday. some time past eleven thirty pm on a saturday night at some dimly-lit nightclub in itaewon, you nursed a margarita, chatting with your friends and paying no mind to the re-arranging happening on the small stage some feet away from your table—a couple of speakers and a mic stand—nor did you look when the club manager made a half-assed announcement, followed by his exit and an old school hip hop instrumental filling the acoustics of the club.

subong was performing that night after begging the manager for weeks on end. it was a particularly difficult feat, considering the rap battle night he and seven other underground artists were part of two months prior ended in a fist fight after a set of insensitive bars about subong's opponent's family lineage spewed from his mouth without remorse. oh, can't forget the time he stole three bottles of cuervo tequila, or when he got so high he squirted someone in the eye with lime because they looked at him funny, or when he left such a monstrous shit in the toilet that he ended up flooding the bathroom when trying to flush.

alas, alas ... the melon streaming numbers spoke for itself (over 95k streams in total for his most recent mixtape), he just reached 10k followers on instagram, and all attention is good attention if you know how to work it ... and subong did, considering bookings went up when he announced he'd be performing this weekend prior to getting approval, cornering the club manager into a checkmate.

you noticed the slight commotion reverberating through the crowd when the music blared, but not enough to divert your attention wholly. when his set finished, he snuck into the crowd, snagging a rogue bloody mary from the bar and downing it without hesitation, turning his head sharply when someone from your party shouted his name.

your friend's boyfriend went to high school with him and hadn't seen him in years. with the way subong reacted, you would've thought they saw each other last week and were the best of friends, slinging his arm around his shoulders and capturing the attention of your table in a flurry. he was overtly charismatic, slowly coming around to your side of the table, eyeing you up and down without an iota of shame. he liked what he saw—his tongue running over his bottom lip.

he looked a bit try hard-y, in his loose fitting clothing, singular golden chain, and his black hair in an awkward stage of a grown out buzz cut—but admittedly he was fine. then you saw the layer of sweat shining on his tan skin ... oh ... he's fine.

"you like what you saw?" he shouted over the music, placing his hand on the table, inching towards you. he gestured to the now empty stage with a subtle flick of his head, leaning in to hear you. "that was you?" you said back. "i'm sorry, i wasn't watching!"

subong smirked, thinking you were joking, but his ego inflated nonetheless. "i—i rap!" he shouted, laying his palm against his chest. "i don't!" you quipped back with a grand smile, shaking your head. he had no idea his dick could get hard that quickly. "i work at a firm!" you say.

it could have been the sight of your glossed lips .. or his big brown eyes .. or your curvy hips .. full thighs .. his tattooed hands .. or the way his lips brushed against your earlobe for you to hear him .. or how your fingers brushed his hair back so he could hear you .. but next thing you know, his lips caught yours, and the next thing after that, his knees were on the porcelain tiles of the bathroom stall, head caught between your plush thighs, eating your pussy like a man starved.

subong's arms held your waist in place, not stopping your back from arching or your hands grasping onto either the wall or his hair, your breathy moans making his jeans feel as if he was wearing tight spandex. when you came—and you came hard—he pulled his phone out of his pocket and shoved it into your hand, "number. now."

"fucking christ, i just came." you said, breathing labored. "hold on." when he stood up, you reached down, pulling your underwear up. you eyed the time on his phone whilst adding your number to his contacts, sending yourself a text. you caught sight of his bulge when you gave his phone back. "you'll have to take care of that yourself. i have to go." you say, running your hands through your hair in an effort to not look too disheveled, even if your friends were smart enough to put two and two together.

you noticed subong take a prolonged look at you. he read your mind: "taking a mental photo for later." he explained, inhaling sharply through his nose. a smirk tugged at your lips. "oh yeah? i'll make it 4d." you palmed his bulge. he nearly lost balance, his gasp sounding more vulnerable than he would've liked—"f-fuck—ngh!" he bit his bottom lip, planting his forehead against yours. your touch was slow and calculated but firm, applying enough pressure to make his vision go fuzzy. "you're f-fucking crazy," his voice shook pathetically, eyebrows contorted in deep pleasure. "y-you f-fucking—ngh!—crazy bitch!"

you stopped abruptly, grabbing subong through his pants harshly. he mewled pathetically in pain. "call me that shit one more time and see what happens." "i'm s-sorry! f-fuck, i'm sorry! i'm sorry! please!" his breath hitched. "oh my fuck—please, baby, i'm so sorry!"

you gradually began palming him again, feeling his deep breath brush against your skin as his forehead returned to yours. his lips eventually latched onto yours, and you couldn't help your thighs rubbing together from how long and slender he felt in your hand.

your phone started to ring in your purse, which hung off the hook at the top of the bathroom stall door, undoubtedly a friend looking for you. you broke the kiss and ceased your touch, stepping around him and fishing your phone out before slinging your purse over your shoulder. "you better fucking call me." you say, kissing his lips again. "i will, will."

you eye his tent. it looks like it hurts and the zipper could break off. you didn't even realise you were biting your bottom lip until your phone rang again. "best dick i'll ever have." subong heard you mutter as you walked away, his cocky smirk stretching across his face in no time. he bit his lip when he saw the wet spot on his jeans. unbeknownst to either of you, this night would become the defining vignette of your relationship.

he called you the very next day. when you didn't answer—because your phone was charging on your nightstand whilst you showered—he sent a dick pic with the bottom half of his face visible in the upper left corner with the accompanying text: Like what u see? he chuckled reading your response: should have kept it a surprise

from that point on he spent his spare money (he didn't have much to begin with) on e-cigarette refills, pills, eyebrow threading appointments (he swore you to secrecy), and, perhaps his most beloved purchase, condoms. he always kissed the wrapper before putting one on.

subong tries to give the impression of someone who fucks but the reality is .... well .... he wonders how he got so lucky whenever he's stood at your apartment door, waiting for you to open it after he's knocked. it's been a lot longer than he'd ever admit under sworn oath, but his erratic thrusts gave it away so quickly it was concerning.

don't get it twisted, it felt ... fine. maybe okay on a good day. he filled you up at the very least! but if only it could last longer ... and didn't feel so ... jabby ... and if only you didn't have to keep in your laughter when his forehead fell to your shoulder ... after he came so hard his vein bulged out of his temple and his breathing was deep enough to power a fucking windmill .. only for you to glance at the time on your phone when a notif popped up and think to yourself ... has it really only been four minutes?

so when he's thrusting into you from behind one night, panting like someone's choking him and drilling into you feverishly, you take his temporary halt to catch his breath as your moment. "subong..." your voice ruminates with lust, aided by the intoxicating feeling of his cock resting inside you. you look over your shoulder at his glistening body, illuminated even in your dimly lit bedroom. "you feel so good, baby." you half-lie, internally cringing. either way, he can't tell, he's too fucked out.

"but how about we ... go a little slower? so we can last longer? hm?" you say. his breath hitches when you roll your hips slowly, his palms laying against either globes of your ass lifelessly. you were struggling to keep it together, eyebrows contorted and mouth agape, stretching yourself out on him.

"like this, yeah?—mmf!" you bite your lip. this is the feeling you've been wanting ... you've been aching for. "it'll feel so much better, subong ..." "yeah, yeah ..." he was breathy. his palms slid to either side of your hips, pulling himself in slow and deep. you gasp, "yes! like that! start slow, then go faster ..."

the moans and whimpers that escaped your lips ran every single porno he's ever seen into the ground. he pounded into you when you told him to, feeling the gumminess of your tight walls hug his cock so divinely that he felt for a split second that maybe, just maybe, the cross he always wore served a different purpose than carrying his stash of pills. subong, unsurprisingly, did not last long, but for the first time, you didn't either. "b-baby! f-fuck—i'm gonna, i'm gonna!—" you clenched around him, and he saw white. subong thought he had transcended ... what better way to go out ... death by the best pussy ... he came so hard and so much that he felt himself drip down his thigh.

you first started calling him over on sundays. then he started to come on fridays ... then staying the weekend ... then he came by on wednesdays for a mid-week fuck .. and slowly, but surely, he essentially lived rent free in your apartment. it was a major plus for him. he'd just been floating from one friend's couch to another. your studio apartment was small as is, barely enough for someone a few years into the workforce and even less on affordability—you barely scraped by on groceries. you'd have to make a wish on a shooting star if you ever needed repairs or healthcare. subong, on the other hand? he finally got to sleep in a bed again, and he gets to not only bum it out on another couch, but also eat pussy, get his dick sucked, and fuck on it. 10/10 no notes from him

and christ did you fuck ... one ankle on the coffee table whilst the other rests atop the couch, him pounding into you deep and deliberately, his eyes boring into your face as yours rolled back, mouth agape. once he found his rhythm and knew your body more, it was over. by the grace of the universe, his stamina heightened, too. he thought about reading war and peace and the meticulous process of the seasonal fermentation of various vegetables to thwart his orgasm from coming too quickly, but fell into a mumble of incoherent whimpers and profanities when he heard your beautiful voice tell him to "h-harder, s-subong, harder," or the cacophony of stuttered grunts leaving both of your chests; sexual pleasure in its rawest form.

one friday evening he was sat at the top of your now shared bed with his back against the wall, legs spread and looking up at you with his mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed in inexplicable pleasure, watching you bounce up and down in fucked out bliss. you had a bullshit ass day at work—something about being denied a raise or being unfairly told off at a meeting—he didn't remember or really care, all he knew was he suggested you use him to relieve frustration, and you obliged. "that's it b-baby. give it all to me, u-use this dick." he bit his bottom lip, squeezing the side of your thigh as you slammed down onto him. "give all your stress to—ngh!—me. your subongie will help you relax." his hands trailed up your waist and kneaded your breasts, making you gasp. you rolled your hips to catch your breath, biting your lip.

you put your hands on his chest for support. "such good dick." you said breathily. "all mine." "that's right." he affirmed. one hand stationed beside your knee, the other reached to the nightside table for his e-cig, bringing it to his lips. you opened your eyes when the cloud of smoke brushed against your cheeks, filling your nostrils with the faint scent of strawberry.

"fuck you and your fuckass puff bar." you said, trying to take it, but he raised it in the air with a shit-eating grin. "what? are you jealous? hm? is my baby jealous?" he jutted out his bottom lip mockingly, chuckling when you swat the e-cig out of his hand. "the fuck would i be jealous about you destroying your lungs for?" you retort. he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "you think you're too good to be fucked by me that you needed to take the edge off." you say, throwing the e-cig onto the floor and ignoring his protests, only for them turn into sharp sucked-in breaths when you rolled your hips again. "th-that was my—shit!—my b-best fucking one," subong shuddered. "you want your best puff or pussy? hm?" you said sharply. with a whimper, he said "my best p-pussy." "i thought so. now say you're sorry until i believe you." you said, hearing him let out a wall-shattering moan when you began riding his long cock again. he would never admit to this in a million years, but this was his favorite way to fuck.

you were in denial for a long time that things had become more romantic and vulnerable. since it was unspoken between you two when he inconspicuously moved in (as irresponsible it is) ... to when he started calling you "my baby" two months in and him "your subongie" a couple weeks later ... to when steamy makeouts before bed remained just that, even through the hushed whimpers and dry humping ... to when he'd smoke a cigarette on the balcony after you routinely complained about the smell, him having you sit on his lap because "the cigarette doesn't hit the same," only to end up sucking the life out of his cock or him rutting into you from behind ... to when you'd wake up with his arm slung lazily across your waist and his head tucked into your neck ... he'd run verses by you and you'd unironically compliment them ... he unironically started going on grocery runs with you, and picking out your jewelry ... and to when sunday mornings became a lot more quieter than they used to be, you two sat on the small couch together, clad in nothing but your underwear, drinking stale black coffee as one of four channels you have play on your dinky tv. it might be due to the limited space, or something more, but his hand lay on your knee whilst yours mindlessly traced the tattoos on the back of his neck, or toyed with his cartilage piercing.

you couldn't kick the question out your mind anymore. "subong?" "hm?" he responded, eyes glued to the tv. "what are we?" he didn't budge. you nudged his shoulder, earning his attention but with a flutter of irritation. "huh? what'd you ask?" "i said what are we?" his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean?" you raised your eyebrows, losing patience. "you know exactly what i mean."

he takes a moment to rack his brain, and then gets it. "you're my girl. my señorita." his face fell when you scoffed and pushed him away. "talk to me when you want to be serious." "i am being serious!" he says defensively. "look, you're my girlfriend. we're together." he sets his coffee down, pulling you in for a kiss. he kept kissing you until you cracked a grin, which took all of two tries. he wields his big brown eyes like katanas looking into yours, raising a finger heart and pressing it against his lips. "i like you." he says, unable to hold back his smile when you moved his hand away.

subong leaned in closer, the tip of his nose feeling the warmth of your cheek. "do you like me, too? hm? you can tell me. i promise i'll keep it a secret. i won't tell anyone." he knew your answer, but teased nonetheless, shaking his head in affirmation. you shushed him gently, actively trying to thwart how flustered you've become. he only pushed more, pressing a purposely deep and obnoxious kiss onto your skin. "i'll be the best and sexiest boyfriend ever."

it felt so wrong that your heart beat a little faster. "i'm only saying okay so that you shut up." you muttered. a knowing grin stretched across subong's face. he placed a kiss on your neck and above the valley between your breasts, laying his temple on your chest, slinging his arms around you. he smirked when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder some minutes later, his eyes fluttering closed when your lips found the top of his head.

you made him start coughing up his earnings from gigs to go towards rent. considering he wasn't being paid much, bookings weren't predictable, and he'd sometimes try to hide his earnings from you (which resulted in him sleeping on the couch, and if he did it again, you threatened he'd be out on the balcony without a blanket) his contribution wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. you shut down any chance of retaliation from him with a look he's since named "period projection" or, depending on his mood, "viagra."

when a lot of time passed between gigs, subong was woken up by a notebook and pen thrown onto his chest. "if you don't have five songs written by the time i get back from work, you're pussyless for a week." you said, slinging your purse over your shoulder. he grunted, barely opening his eyes but sitting up, the notebook and pen falling onto the bed. you grabbed his face, pecking his cheek before heading out the door.

subong talked himself up if you were being particularly hard on him, or really, just not as delusional about his success. "baby, one day you won't have to worry about shit. i'll have us partying in mykonos by next valentine's and in switzerland to see the first snow." he said one morning, standing stupidly in the middle of the apartment with nothing but his briefs and a graphic tee that had stains you didn't want to know about. "book the flights when you stop eating week old beef and using my moisturizer." you mutter, shoving the vacuum cleaner in his hands, gesturing for him to hand over the shirt before heading to the basement of the building to do laundry.

if work permitted, you went to see him perform at whatever nightclub in the city. subong found you in the crowd after his set, giving you a sloppy kiss and wrapping his sweaty arms around you no matter if you came straight from work, still clad in business wear, or in something that made you look like the rapper girlfriend of his dreams. an air of added cockiness ruminated off him when you two tag-teamed hounding the club manager whenever they tried to lowball his pay. more often than not, they caved in and gave what was agreed to and then some after you shouted said your piece. either way, you end up on the dance floor wrestling with your tongues or him pounding into you from behind in a bathroom stall. everybody wins!

when you're at work and subong's at home, he films tiktoks and posts on his instagram to get his name out there. he also tries to start beef on various naver cafés, especially when he's bored. or texting you: Did u eat the last tico?; Hi baby I have a threading appt at 5 i will meet u at your work before we go to dinner; Highh as sht88df thikning about ❤️You girl❤️❤️❤️❤️; [insert photo of him flexing in the bathroom mirror] Come home for lunch

speaking of photos on his phone, he has quite the array—advertisements at the train and bus stations he finds funny; various hair colors from the department store he wants to try; mirror selfies of him either flexing or trying on shoes; a photo of his hand squishing your cheeks when you two were waiting in line for cheap street food for lunch; another photo of you looking rather disheveled in the kitchen when you two were unfairly woken up at 6 am one saturday morning by nearby construction, an adorably annoyed look on your face because he was standing in the way of the fridge; one selfie of him in bed hitting his e-cig; the next taken six minutes later with your tit in his mouth, his eyes looking at himself. if you didn't keep tabs on him, he would've made the latter the cover of his next mixtape.

some of your friends thought you were crazy for still being with him, someone who was barely scraping by and, from an outsider's pov, was a moocher. you'd shake your head, "you guys don't get it. i know what i'm doing. you don't need to worry." and you certainly did, considering whenever you came home to subong's big brown eyes, towering height, and his smooth, low voice asking "how was your day, baby?," or when his fingers traced a fresh hickey on your neck, or when he announced his presence by placing his hand teasingly low on your waist ... oh, you were just about ready to make him a father .... even if it would lower the nation's life expectancy rate.

you've caught yourself staring at him at night when you couldn't sleep, watching the way his lips parted every time he exhaled, or how his arms were sprawled out before him after he fell asleep with them crossed. you fought the fluttering of your heavy eyelids to just .... look at him. sometimes you succumb to slumber, pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek before drifting off. but one night you were simply plagued by him, looking at subong as if he was a riddle to solve, until you realized with wide eyes that you were projecting: oh fuck no. i love him.

it terrified you, that strong feeling. but not enough to sit idly by if someone became a little too flirty with him at the club, or to slow your speed walk to the bathroom after a work conference to send him a picture after he sent one that morning—lowering your volume and pressing your phone to your ear, listening to the audio message he sent in response, subconsciously rubbing your thighs together: "god, you're so fucking hot baby. how did i get so lucky .... what am i supposed to do, hm? you made my dick so fucking hard .... and it's not even eleven am yet ... is this what you wanted, hm? to get me riled up first thing in the morning?" his voice was low, sleep still fresh in his tone, followed by wet strokes. "it's sad that you're at work for so long. leaving me here—f-fuck, yeah, just like th-that—all alone ... and so needy ..."

you fucked good and hard when subong got a spot in the rap battleground competition, landing him in a position to not only put his name out there, but possibly win some money that would make a difference. you were elated enough to go condom-less. "wanna make you feel good, baby," you murmured breathily, ass pushing against the kitchen countertop, subong standing between your warm thighs. "i'm just so—mmf!" you sucked in a breath when his lips and tongue found your neck. "s-so proud of you, subongie." oh. subong just knew something was up. but he wasn't stupid enough to question it, not when he knows he's about to enter the gates of heaven. "gonna let me fuck this tight pussy raw?" he muttered in that low voice of his, continuing his slow, wet kisses on your neck to avoid melting into a puddle of his libido. his voice quivered when you didn't answer, hidden well by your moan: "hm? gonna let me ruin this pussy—" "yes!" you whimpered.

in a moment of weakness, he bit his bottom lip. he grabbed your face with one hand, making you look him in the eye. even in his attempt at dominance, you saw the flickers of awe in his eyes. nothing filled the kitchen besides the sounds of your shaky breaths, his face studying yours. could this ... could he have just realized that ... he loves you, too? subong leans in closer, the tip of his nose brushing with yours. you try to lean in, but his hold on your face stops you. you don't know what to make of his feelings with his next words, but with how his other hand comes up and combs your hair out of your face, and his forehead touches yours, its perhaps the most intimate moment of your relationship thus far: "you're finally gonna let me fuck what's mine?" he whispers. you nod silently.

subong bottomed out that night, cumming all over your stomach and back. your back arched like never before when he was pounding into you from behind, taking him deep into your gummy, warm walls. your fingernails clawed at your pillowcases and bed sheets, jaw hung open and eyes rolled back whilst his heavy balls hit the bottom of your stomach. your cunt suffocated his dick every time his palm smacked either globe of your ass—"take that fucking dick. take that fucking dick, just like that, yeah," he panted, palm rubbing over your hot skin before smacking it again. his voice cracked, "f-fuck! o-oh my god! fuck!" he squeezed your hips so hard you sucked a breath in through your teeth. his thrusts momentarily slowed, blinking hard when his vision began to blur at the sight of the creamy ring at the end of his cock. the noise was obnoxious, wet, and loud. you're everything he could ever hope for. in missionary, he tried so hard not to be a babbling mess, through his purposeful strokes. his hands held your head in place, his thumbs pressing into your temples, but his gaze failed to leave his cock fucking you. "give me that fucking puffy pussy." he murmured. he held his bottom lip between his teeth, groaning. "give me that puffy fucking—o-oh! ngh! f-fuck, you always know how to make me feel so f-fucking good, baby!"

you showered afterward together, momentarily forgetting about the water bill when your arms wrapped around subong's neck, your lips molding together. the kiss was soft and sensual. his hands massaged the same globes his palms set fire to whilst the remnants of his lust washed off your body and down the drain. he slept the best he had in weeks that night. a couple weeks later, you helped him dye his hair a deep purple a few days before the competition, just in time for him to adopt his new stage persona after becoming insufferable since watching "endgame," thanos.

the competition came and went, and he placed as a runner-up. he actually listened when you said you didn't want to head to the club since you had work early the next day, settling for a nice dinner and a bottle or two of soju instead. a group of fans of the show came up to him in the checkout line, and not only did you watch with an admiring grin, but your eyes widened surprise when he introduced you as his girlfriend after you were handed their phones to take a photo, harmlessly mistaken as a bystander. not only were you then asked to join the photo, but subong laughed heartily on the walk home upon hearing one of the girls' face dropped hearing the news that he's taken.

the bottles emptied on your coffee table, you ended the night rolling your hips atop his, holding onto his shoulders as his hands held onto either globes of your ass, looking up at you whilst you rode his cock. your dress pants for work were discarded on the floor, panties pushed to the side for his condom-less dick, biting your bottom lip when his palm massaged your breast through your blouse. nothing was in the room besides your breathy gasps, his low groans, the squeak of sweaty skin against the cheap faux leather of the couch, and his whispers . . . "you look so beautiful, baby. so fucking sexy." subong's eyebrows furrowed deeply, glancing at your swiveling hips before looking back up at you, despite your head being thrown back. "taking this cock so good...f-fuck ... know how to make me feel good, yeah? always know just how to squeeze me, how to make this big, fat cock cum, yeah? tell me, baby."

all you could muster was a whimper and your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders, but that was more than okay with him. his hand trailed up the side of your neck, bringing your head forward. "come here, come here my beautiful baby. my beautiful fucking woman." his lips kissed yours, molding them together repeatedly. his tongue toyed with yours, picking up the speed of your hips, making him grunt into your mouth every time your inner thighs clapped against his lower stomach. you held onto each other tighter, the kiss becoming feverish, only to be broken when his thumb found your clit. you came in what felt like seconds, and before you knew it, the words slipped out: "i love you!" you whimpered, riding out the high of your intense orgasm, subong having pulled out and spilling onto his thigh. "i love you, i love you!" you repeated breathily. through the pounding of his temples, he heard. through your laborious breathing, you didn't register that he said nothing back.

subong loved you too. he's known for a while now. but that was precisely the problem—he knew, and he wasn't going to say shit. what was the reason? perhaps it was a fucked up way of protecting you by stonewalling that part of him, perhaps it was selfishness, perhaps it was the inferiority complex making him feel like he didn't deserve someone as patient, as transformative, and as loving as you, and he questioned every day why he hadn't been kicked to the fucking curb yet, even after a year and a half together. or maybe ... it was that fucking mg coin ...

he started watching that fuckass man a couple months before the rap battleground competition after a friend tipped him off about crypto. you peered over his shoulder after settling into bed, hearing parts of a youtube video through his phone speaker. "i stopped trying to understand that shit when they told me a picture of an ape is somehow currency." you muttered, making him laugh. "yeah. you're right, hm?" he let out a yawn, clicking his phone off before taking you in his arms, falling asleep with your head on his chest.

but then, it was like a flip switched. subong saw something you didn't (delusion), and seemed to be watching myung gi's videos at what felt like any chance he had. he watched him in the morning, sat at the small dining table in the kitchen as he ate leftover kimbap from dinner the night previous, already annoying you at barely 10 AM whilst pouring yourself cereal, sitting across from him on this rare saturday off. you eyed his phone, "i thought you dropped that shit." you said between chewing. his eyes stayed glued to his screen, putting another slice into his mouth. "i don't know, baby. i think he has a point. people are getting rich quick off this crypto shit. i might have to play my hand, y'know?" before you could respond, he reached over, wiping a rogue drop of milk that slipped from the corner of your mouth, sucking it off his thumb before pressing 'skip ad'. you reached over, clicking his phone off and turning it face down. "hey!—" "you talk like you routinely pay for this wifi." you said, looking into his eyes. "you talk about 'playing your hand' when you don't have the decency to spend 5,000 won on wired headphones so i don't have to hear this shit all day?"

his lip twitched in annoyance, eyes widening. "don't get smart with me!" he exclaimed. you scoffed and waved your hand dismissively, eating another scoop of your cereal. "i'll go get some headphones after i eat if that's what you really want, damn!" "if you invest in something invisible, you do it with your own money so you reap the punishment." you say. "i will." subong rolled his eyes, eating his last slice of kimbap, but irritably. "he knows his shit. says the coin'll blow up." he mumbled, glancing at you when you got up. you held his face, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "that's what they all say, subong." you collected his and your dishes, bringing them to the sink and beginning to wash.

he funneled money into that coin behind your back no problem. every time a check came in, the slice that went to investing got larger and larger. he kept it hidden by putting aside just enough to not cause suspicion. and turning off notifs at specific times. he said he'd transfer a few months worth of the rent when the money hit his account after rap battleground and a couple of scheduled gigs he won as well, but it was a half-baked lie. he told you the money hit way after it actually did, giving you what he promised but keeping a large sum for himself, because he surprisingly got a return on his investment.

he kept going and going, the high of it all rivaling his pills. he bought limited edition shoes, a pair of earrings you'd been eyeing for a while for your anniversary, and got a couple new tattoos. all of it was hidden well behind his coincidentally coinciding success of his music in the wake of the competition ... damn ... he could get used to the universe dickriding him this hard ...

until it all came crashing down that night on the couch. the same night you confessed, he got a notif from one of his crypto apps that he had lost 30 million won. he bolted out of bed, leaving your sleeping, clueless form behind to smoke a cigarette outside, pacing back and forth in the street, trying to calm himself down at 2:30 in the morning. he stared at those numbers like they were going to change, ultimately convincing himself that it was a mere fluke and that money would come again in no time, stomping his cigarette into the asphalt and heading back upstairs.

it was like a routine: watch myung gi, take notes, invest. watch myung gi, take notes, invest. subong took it to heart when he said viewers would be foolish not to bet. he resented being made to feel stupid. even when the returns were slimmer with each swipe up to refresh, he kept going. he looked you straight in the eyes with an admiring grin on his face, lying through his teeth saying everything was okay. what you didn't know couldn't hurt you, right? right. but it ate away at him. subconsciously, then viscerally.

your confession hung at the back of subong's head for weeks. he tried to avoid it, even attempted to put that frustration into his music, but nothing was satisfactory. his inner turmoil flooded to the surface—avoiding your kiss in the morning before you headed to work, landing your lips on the corner of his mouth before he pecked yours without much thought. you didn't say those three words again, but he saw them on display in the softness of your eyes gazing up at him. he couldn't bare it. it was so easy for him to lie to your face about his whereabouts, how much of a fucking coward was he to not say three words back? especially when he felt them, too?

you noticed the change as well. he'd be gone for longer hours, only texting you back in the later evening. his hand stayed to hisself on sunday mornings. kisses were quick and choppy, not sensual and slow. sex was more rough and rushed. it made you feel so deeply embarrassed, like a teenaged girl made to feel silly and begging for her boyfriend's attention. you hated the feeling, but hated the fact that you let that confession slip more. you always felt he wasn't one to open up like that, but a girl can dream, can't she?

then it descended into utter madness. you came home from work later than usual, having to finish last minute assignments for someone who didn't show up. you nearly exploded at the haze of smoke filling your apartment, dropping your purse on the floor. there were bottles of soju and half-eaten food littering the kitchen counters and floor, the fridge left wide open, sure to have spoiled the rest of your leftovers. your eyes then found subong and his friend, a stranger to you, so fucking high that drool leaked out of the corner of their mouths.

"out!" you yelled, enraged. "get the fuck out!" neither of them moved until the piercing sound of the soju bottle you threw at the wall, shattering into pieces, jolted their senses awake. you grabbed the friend by his tank top, yanking him out of his seat like a fucking rag doll, and shoved him out the door. "the fuck! get ... get your—tell your bitch to fucking chill, bro!" the man's words slurred, only for him to nearly stumble down the stairs when you hurled another bottle at him. "don't ever fucking come back here!" you yelled.

"jesus fucking christ, you're so fucking loud." subong muttered, now standing and rubbing his fingers against his temples. "what the fuck is wrong with you! you've never done shit like this before!" you yelled, paying no mind to his wincing. "the fuck are you talking about? i get high, you know this—" "yeah, i do! but never like this. in our fucking house, subong!"

it was then that you saw the syringe and tinfoil on the coffee table. even in your blistering anger, you took his wrists in your hands, looking over his arms. "since when did you do hard shit? huh?" you muttered. his eyebrows furrowed, looking over to the table with hooded eyes. "what? i...i don't." his words slurred, a low burp gurgling out from his lips, shaking his head. "my friend fucks around with that. not me. i stick to pills and vape, baby. i swear."

you let go of his wrists, running a hand through your hair and pacing. the smoke had cleared. you turned around, seeing him laying his temple against the fridge, mouth hung open and eyes closed. you slowly walked up to him, not sure where to begin, your hands reaching up and holding his face. "baby." you said, him grunting in response. "i don't ... i don't know what's going been going on with you lately. you've been so distant and ... and cold. and then coming home to this ... subong, you're—you're scaring me a little."

he groaned weakly, chin sinking downward before you caught him, holding his face up whilst looking into his hooded eyes. your heart felt punctured. "is it ... is it because i said i love you? is it because of that?" his eyes opened, making way for his frustrated grimace. he shook his head, lip curling in what you mistook as disgust, when in reality he was outwardly sickened by himself. "you don't know fucking shit about anything, bitch."

your face fell, eyes watering. you let go of him, his cheek flattened against the fridge, barely stabilizing himself against it. you took a step back. a million thoughts ran through your mind, but one prevailed amongst all of them: what i've been avoiding has shown itself to be true. a tear escaped your waterline, but your voice was stable. "get out." you sniffled, wiping your cheek. "get out, subong."

"huh?" he mumbled, gradually opening his eyes. "i said get the fuck out of my house, subong." "what? i'm not going—" he burped again. "i'm not going fucking anywhere." he wagged a finger in your face. you swatted his arm away, grabbing him by the hem of his shirt and yanked him with all of your might, pushing his back, shoving him out the door even after he tripped over your purse. you slammed the door and locked it before he got to his feet again. "hey!" he yelled. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "open the damn door, you fucking bitch!" he pounded on the door with his palm. "come back when you stop acting like a fucking child!" you yelled, hitting the door back repeatedly. "and not turn my place into a fucking trap house, you piece of shit!"

"what about all that money i gave you, huh!? for rent? and your fucking groceries? give me those fucking earrings you have on, you never fucking deserved them anyway—" "fuck no!" you shouted over him. "this is the least i fucking deserve after your fucking pennies, you cheap piece of shit! if you're so loaded, then fuck off!" subong pressed his mouth to edge of the door, seething. "throwing your boyfriend out like this? when i'm making it big, huh? you'll come to regret this—" you bursted out laughing almost maniacally, a very strange mixture of anger, frustration, and hilarity brewing in your chest. he could be so fucking ridiculous. "m-making it big?" you repeated, laughing so hard you clutched your stomach and wiped tears from your face. it was cathartic. "i-if you're 'making it big,' subong, then—then i'm a lost member of the royal fucking family!" you exclaimed. "how's the fund for greece, huh? still plan on taking me for valentine's? or are you going to continue to clog my toilet because you're still too cheap to buy fresh meat?" "shut the fuck up!" he roared, slamming his palm against the door and wiggling the doorknob.

a neighbor opened their door, avoiding eye contact and stepping around the broken glass to take out their trash, visibly not wanting to be caught in the firestorm taking place in the hall. subong grew embarrassed, turning back to the closed door with a new plea to avoid the atomically sinking feeling. "open the door. please, baby. let's talk this out." he spoke, trying to keep his voice level, wiping his nose with the side of his thumb. when you didn't answer, he kept going. "i'm sorry for all the trouble, baby. let me make it up to you, yeah? just open the door, and we can talk this out. c'mon, baby, the neighbors'll hear—" "let them fucking hear!" you yelled, making him flinh. you leaned closer to the edge of the door, directly parallel to him. "what's that bullshit you always say, huh? any attention is good attention, if you know what to do with it? well, eat your fucking words then, subong! be a man for once in your stupid life!" his eyes widened, vein popping out of his temple. "fuck you, you fucking whore!" he slammed the door repeatedly, the two of you creating a cacophony when you started hitting it, too. "fuck you too, dumbass!"

it was eerily silent that evening in your apartment. you, alone, cleaning up the mess he left behind. carefully sweeping up shattered glass, plastic bags, food wrappers, washing the dishes, cleaning out the fridge, etc. subong was universe knows where. you didn't have the energy to think about him, not even bothering to look around on your walk to the convenience mart to buy ramen for dinner. the emotional turmoil sank into your chest when you sat at the same kitchen table where chaos unfolded at mere hours ago to eat. you barely swallowed the first mouthful before you sank into tears, shoulders shaking, pressing the back of your hand to your lips to console yourself. how could everything have fallen apart so quickly?

you and subong didn't speak for three months. he called and texted those first couple weeks, but that fizzled out, and you didn't answer at all. you didn't owe him anything, especially after the shit he put you through. the wound was still felt too fresh, sensitive enough to do anything but wallow in the silence, heading back out to bars with your friends on the weekends.

none of your friends dared to say much. you were offered apologetic words, but a fool wouldn't notice the air of i told you so in their tone. even with you ceasing caring to cover the healing hickies, being much more subdued on nights out, or your eye bags deepening in the wake of the break up, you were mainly left to wallow in your own grief. you felt it was half deserved and half fucking rude.

but as more time went on, you felt hurt by the fact that subong didn't show back up. not once. not even a mean note on your door, or sign of attempted entry. did he really not fucking care that much? he was just a man, after all ... but then again, not every man is reduced to grateful tears after eating pussy. or looks at you like a renaissance painting come to life when you're retouching his fucking hair dye. when you got home one night, a little tipsy from the cocktails you had, you clicked on those unread text messages— ranging from Baby i'm sorry please talk to me; Stop being so fucking stubborn; ileft my keytthere I dont wantt it back u fknng cnutt; to I don't deserve you i fucked up please baby—and listening to those voicemails.

one resonated with you, even in your inebriated state: "hi ... um, it's been, like, four days since we ... and i, uh—i feel weird. and i don't like it at all. i know you're at work right now but i can't bring myself to show my face and i fucking hate it. i don't like being a coward. but you ... you're ... you're just ... you need to stop. you can't keep doing this to me. you make me feel things i've never felt and it fucking scares me. and you cut me off before i could even say my bit. how is that fair? you can't just come into my life like that and walk away before i get a say. you can't change my life and me and then just throw me away. i know ... i know i'm not the best guy. but even i don't deserve to be thrown out like—" he was cut off and did not call back. "oh my god. what a fucking idiot." you murmured, rubbing your temple with your fingers.

but the universe loves to throw curveballs, because you saw him two weeks later at a bar a few blocks down from the club you first met at. subong saw you long before you saw him that night. he'd spent so much of the last four months feeling a spectrum of emotions, coping with his frustration by daydreaming about what he'd say the next time he saw you—all of the insults to suffice for his anger, all of the things he'd say to make you feel bad for how you treated him—all cogs in his self-deflection apparatus. but when he actually saw you, sat alone at the bar with no friend group in sight, drinking what looked to be martini, he was at a loss for words. even his emotionally daft ass was aware enough to sense something was different about you. more muted, more subdued. that's what she fucking gets. his inner monologue was unforgiving, only for him to peer over a tall strangers shoulder to keep his softened eyes on you. but she ... she can't be alone. not here.

subong was really good at blending into the crowd, until he got too close, and by chance you glanced up and saw him. he was close enough to hear you suck in a breath through your teeth, and see your eyes widen in panic the same time his did. without thinking, you got up from your seat, grabbing your purse hanging on the back of your chair, forgetting you hadn't even taken a second sip of your overpriced drink. subong stepped out of the crowd, "don't go." he said gentler than anticipated, before remembering he was supposed to be livid. his expression hardened, lips tightened, hand grabbing for your arm. "we need to talk."

"i don't have anything to fucking say to you." you say sharply, not looking at him, keeping your voice low to not cause commotion. "yes the fuck you do." he bit back. you tried to pull your arm out of his grip, failing. "let me go or i'll throw my drink in your face." "really?" he smirked. "i didn't take you to be so careless with your money." you look up, eyebrows raised, meeting his eyes for the first time in months. "oh, that's funny. do you still think you're up and coming? or have you come to terms with the fact that you're an illiterate fuck who steals IP just to still write shit fucking bars?"

subong closed much of the remaining gap between you. "shut your fucking mouth, you bitch." he seethed through gritted teeth. you look him dead in the eyes, "see what i mean? you still can't come up with anything new, and you've had all this time." you pulled at his grip again, but he was strong. "let me go." "you didn't listen to me before, so you're going to listen now." "like the fuck i am!" you looked at him like he was crazy. you pulled again, finally freeing your arm. you grabbed your drink, purse in your other hand. "now leave me alone." you say. "or i'll throw this drink right in your fucking eyes."

you turned and walked deeper into the dimly lit bar; just anywhere that was not where he was. you found an empty booth, sitting down with a huff, taking a hefty swig of your martini. you shot up when you saw him walk over, putting your arm in position, only for subong to put his hands up, one hovering over your drink. "don't throw it! don't!" "do you not know how to fucking listen!?" "you don't know how, either!" he shot back. "why did you never respond to my texts or calls?" "don't ask me that with that stupid look on your face like it's as bad as you bringing a fucking stranger and hard drugs into my home!" you exclaimed. "which, by the way, in all of your rambling voicemails and texts, you've never once apologized for." "so you did read them?" "that's not the fucking point, subong!" "yes, it is! to me!" "and what? you don't think it matters to me that you never said 'i love you' back? that i felt like a fucking teenage girl, waiting at her boyfriend's beck and call to care about her?"

people were starting to stare, but your sense of decorum was long gone. he got up in your face, and you took him up at that challenge. "i care! i fucking cared!" he stared into your eyes in frustration, pushing his fingers into his chest in a desperate gesture. "well, you didn't do a good job of showing it. because at some point, i felt my loneliest even when you were beside me, snoring like fucking pug and dutch ovening the blanket."

subong, at a loss for words, too choked up on his anger and long-suppressed complicated feelings boiling to the surface, turned to what he knew best: low hanging fruit. after a moment, he collects himself. a smug smirk stretches across his face, taking a step back and glancing at the dated wall art behind you. he shook his head, looking down at the floor with a chuckle. "and here i was, thinking you were secretly pregnant with my kid or something." he said. your eyebrows furrowed, deeply confused. this was stupid, even for him. "what?" you shook your head. "what the fuck are you talking about—" "—it makes sense that you wouldn't want to tell me. too much for you too handle. but then i saw you tonight, and you looked more bloated than usual, so i thought i was right. but then you were drinking—" he yelped when the cold gin splashed in his face, flinching at the glass bouncing off his chest, shattering next to his foot. gasps erupted throughout the room. subong hastily wiped his eyes, feeling them burn. "fucking bitch!" "your children would be lucky to never know their deadbeat of a fucking father."

you stormed off, heading into the nearby women's bathroom. heartbeat in your throat, you turned on a sink, rinsing the alcohol off your hands. you didn't look up when the door hit the wall, or when subong yelled "fuck off!" to the other three women in the room, causing a brief scurry of heels out the door. he pushed you out of the way, rinsing his eyes. "i should go and file a fucking police report on you." he mumbled. he looked up at you, expression angry, even with his squinting eyes. "i should've written 'sex slave' on my tax forms, too, with how you treated me!"

you pushed him right back, collecting a handful of water from the running sink with your palm, and throwing it at his face. "when was the last time you paid your taxes? hm!?" you exclaimed. "do you even know where your bank is? did you ever buy a new toothbrush after the one you had became a clump of bristles and i had to get one for you like a fucking mother!?" you yelled, using both palms and throwing more water; some hitting the floor, some splashing on yourself, but most wetting his face and clothing. "hey!" his voice boomed. he took a step forward, slipping, but caught himself on the edge of the sink. he turned the water off, landing your hand atop his in a failed effort to stop him. "you don't get to speak to me like that!" he yelled. "i can speak however i want to!" you yelled louder, making him wince, cursing under his breath. "you lost your chance when you made me feel crazy for loving you. i don't know how i could've even liked you!"

"hey!" subong's voice echoed off the walls. "your voice is so fucking shrill! you're giving me a fucking headache!" he pushed his fingers into his temple. he pointed at you, unwavering when you smacked it away. "don't act like you're fucking innocent, either—let me fucking finish!" you closed your mouth, crossing your arms over your chest. "see, this is what your problem is. you don't let anyone speak, or want to do anything i like. all those times you laughed in my face, didn't take me seriously, or tossed my career away like it was garbage, like some fucking fly you couldn't swat away." he waved his hand in front of his face, mimicking the gesture. "well, i'm sorry i put a roof over your head when you were piss poor broke." your voice was eerily leveled, staring so hard into his eyes you could've burned holes into his retinas. "and didn't act like you were nominated for grammys in fucking return."

"'laughed?' 'didn't take seriously?'" you repeated his words, eyebrows furrowing. "who dyed your stupid fucking purple hair? who reminded you to write songs? who pushed you to call clubs? who yelled at pervert managers to get you fair pay!?" your voice escalated. subong's eyes drifted to the tiled floor, head hanging lower than before. you took a breath. "subong, i—" he met your eyes at the mention of his name. "i invented you."

his expression soured, hating that you were right and faced with his own cowardice once again. but he would rather give himself up to his loan shark than show it. "invented is the right word." subong spoke lowly, nodding. his hand came up to his head, making a screwing gesture. "false ideas—you have false ideas of who i am. you played with me like a toy." you were in disbelief. "p-played you? like ... like a toy?" you began to stutter through this newfound upheaval of anger, something that made your face feel hot and stomach churn, increasingly irritated with each second you couldn't get the words out. "you!—you!" you hit your palm on the edge of the sink, sending your purse to the floor. "you came so hard that i thought i had to go to urgent care to get you an oxygen mask!" every word sounded more strained than before. you inhaled deeply, running against a ticking timer in your head to when he'd open his mouth next. you gestured at a bathroom stall door, but in your head, it was a memory. "you held onto me so tightly after your performances or at home or—or eating dinner to the point where i had to eat with one hand!" you closed the gap, your pointer finger brushing against the tip of his nose. "at some point, you couldn't fall asleep unless you felt my fucking heartbeat, motherfucker!"

"and you did all of that," you gestured around you. "just to fuck me over, and make me realize i've wasted my time loving someone who doesn't give half a fucking shit whether i live or die!" "i care!" his voice boomed. "how many times do i have to say that!?" "until your last goddamn breath." you retort without hesitation. "and with how you live, that should be right around the corner." "are you saying i should die?" "what? no, subong. of course not." you shook your head. "that's not what i—that's not what i meant." "so what did you mean?" "what i mean was—no, stop distracting. you know exactly what i meant." with your next look at him, you saw them: his manicured hands, equipped with different colors on all fingernails. oh, you hated how quickly your mind shifted gears, how quickly the worries of the imaginary teenage girl clouded your logic and best judgment, but none more than this being what your eyes began watering over. "who ... who did that?" you asked, your suddenly quieted voice catching subong off guard.

"what?" he asked, confused. his eyes followed your gaze, landing at his hands, eyebrows raising at the realization that this was his chance at getting the upper hand: "someone i saw." he lied. it wasn't wholly untrue, but dubiously framed; the nail tech was a woman, so he did see her, just not in the way he just purposefully vaguely implied. he needed something to jab at you, to knock you down a peg like it was a schoolyard fight, but even he couldn't smirk at the hurt on your face. in fact, he regretted those words the moment he said them. "who is she?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. subong had never seen you look so devastated like this before. it made him feel an instinct that straightened his posture, unaware of what to do next, standing awkwardly. he attempted to say these next words with venom, but he couldn't even believe them himself, almost sounding as subdued as you: "it's none of your fucking business."

your heart drops. you feel nauseous. if subong had blinked, he would've missed your curt nod. you didn't bother wiping the tear trailing your cheek, his eyes watching as you pick up your purse from the floor, ears perking at your sniffle. "okay." you whispered, but you were so quiet that your voice nearly blended with the air vent. you started walking, fully intending to never turn back around, until his hand on your wrist stopped you. "wait—" "stop!" you said sharply, yanking out of his grip before he could close his fingers entirely. you held your hands in the air before circling around, your eyes landing on his. his face fell. you looked perishable, drained of an essence he couldn't fathom you without. oh, he'd really done it this time.

you lunged forward, nail of your pointer finger scratching against his nose. "you don't get to do this to me, s-subong!" you exclaimed, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tears stifle the effort. you couldn't contain the sob. he was mortified at the sight. "it's ... it's not fair." you whispered meekly. your hands trailed to his chest, balling into fists as you cried. he stood there, frozen, mouth agape like a fool. subong raised his hand, petting your hair with a light, unsure touch. "it's fi—" he sucked in a surprised breath through his teeth when you started swatting his chest, pushing and shoving at him in a pitiful tantrum. subong took it silently, putting his hands up, face contorting uncomfortably at the sound of your cries. his bottom lip started to quiver as time went on. he couldn't tell what he hated more: the fact he lost the fight, or the fact he cared about that to begin with.

"that's enough. hey—" subong inhaled sharply through his nose. he grabbed both of your wrists, holding them in place. "that's enough." he hoped to whatever higher power you didn't hear the quiver. he swallowed, resting his forehead against yours. your hands went limp. he let go, feelings your palms trail up to his face. "you're mine." you spoke weakly. his mouth fell open, staring at your lips whilst you begged for his eyes; earning you such when your hand on his cheek guided him to your gaze. "do you hear me?" you whispered. "you're mine, subong. no one elses." you shook your forehead against his, your tragic desperation ailing him. "mhm." his hands trailed your waist. "i'm yours, baby. all yours."

with a shaky hand, your fingers ran through his hair, thumb so close to his lips he pressed a skeleton of a kiss onto it. "i'm sorry i threw my drink at you." you cry, voice stuck at a whisper. "i'm so sorry, subong—" "stop." his low voice shushes you, nose nestling beside yours, slowly trailing to your neck. he inhaled your scent, eyes rolling back when your fingers brushed past his cartilage piercing. "i had it coming." his nose found its way back to your cheek, pressing kisses onto the warm, wet skin. "why didn't you come home, subong? i .. i've been waiting for so long." his bottom lip quivered again, but his voice was utmost steady: "you never asked."

"i—i shouldn't have to!" you swatted at his chest. "you idiot!" "i know, i know. i've been really fucking stupid." his voice cracks. subong leans in, but you turn away. "i can't. it's not good for me." "can't you see we're dying without each other?" he pleads, his hands turning your head to look at him. "look at me, look at you! just one, baby. please." his breath brushed against your cheeks, his hands holding either side of your face. "i can't ... i can't go on without you."

with a shaky breath and fresh tears falling down your cheeks, you closed the gap. a guttural moan rumbled through your chest, subong whimpering desperately. his arms wrap tightly around your waist, your hands holding his face for dear life—the kiss slow and purposeful, making up for lost time, a conversation no words could say. subong's palms made way to your ass, acting on pure muscle memory. he angled his head, introducing his tongue into the equation, having to quickly bend his knees to catch your fidgety form. "i'm not going anywhere." he unintentionally stifled the most heavenly moan he's ever heard from you. you broke the kiss for air. subong wasted no time, returning to his favorite spot on your neck, holding you in place firmly. your head fell back, letting him do whatever he so pleased—your hand on the back of his head wielding the power of casting a centuries-long trance.

he sucked and licked with precision, like a day hadn't gone by. he even hummed in concentration, mouth popping off of your soft skin until the bruise was to his liking. "s-subong." you whined, needing his lips back, your fingers messily carding through his hair. "i'm almost done." he was gentle, even if he was ignoring the concrete fucking lump in his pants and starting to sweat over your warmth against his. he latched off, fingers tracing the bluish-red spot with satisfaction. "come here, pretty girl." his slightly swollen lips made your eyebrows furrow pathetically, the kiss felt sticky, your lips sown with his. "i need you." you murmured. "i need you." "stall. the bathroom stall."

you grabbed his hand, rushing to the closest one, pulling him inside. neither of you think to close the door, letting it bang against the wall after swinging it open. subong's lips returned to yours, but his hands pat his pockets, feeling his phone and wallet, unsure: "i don't—i don't have a condom." "it's okay, it's okay." you assure truthfully, hurriedly kissing him as if he'd disappear if you let go. "it'll be just like how we used to, hm?" "turn around for me."

you do, placing your hands on the bathroom stall wall to hold yourself up. subong pulls your pants down to your ankles, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down just enough to grind his hardened cock against your ass, leaving nothing to the imagination, even with the barrier of his briefs and your underwear. "s-subong!" you gasped, back arching, pushing your ass farther onto him, feeling his cock closer to your aching pussy but not quite there yet. "how could you take this away from me?" he whispered into your ear, breath hitching vulnerably as he tried to keep himself composed, the plush of your round ass making his mind mush. "from us?" subong's hands snuck past the hem, grabbing at the powdery softness of either globes of your ass. his bottom lip suffered between his teeth, watching his hands work underneath the fabric, squeezing firmly. your nails clawed at the wall, eyes fluttering closed whenever his cool rings cinched around your hot skin. "stop teasing." your cheek collided with his nose, not realizing how close his face was to yours.

subong kissed your supple skin like instinct. "you'll take this dick like a good fucking girl, right?" he was so close to your ear the tip of his nose smushed against the stall wall. "y-yes!" you helplessly paw at the wall. his hand pulled down your underwear, rutting himself against your bare ass. his fingers maneuvered between your legs, middle finger sinking between your folds and encircling, keeping you steady between him and the wall. when he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves, he feels faint, cursing under his breath as your guttural grunt that bounced off the walls. "s-subong—" your voice sounded dry from the earlier arguing and succumbing to your illustrious libido. "i know, baby, i know." his fingers were unrelenting. christ, you were so fucking wet. "just wait for a little longer, and i'll fuck this pussy like the good boy you know i fucking am."

his fingers came to a gradual halt. whilst your chest heaved, he sucked on the tip of his middle finger, licking it clean. "i'm getting on my knees. don't move." he pulled your underwear down, peering up at the puffy lips he has to thank for opening his third eye. you cover your mouth, his warm tongue delving between your folds, scared of what you might sound like if you let go. for the next minute, all that fills the bathroom are the lewd sounds of his tongue nursing your sweet pussy and your muffled whimpers. a crude smack on your left globe followed by a harsh squeeze was the unspoken: let me fucking hear you. "o-oh!" you cried out. "o-oh my fucking god!"

you pushed your ass onto his face, your eyes crossing over the vibrations of his satisfied moan against your clit, squeezing them shut. he lapped your hole repeatedly, swallowing, taking a breath before adjusting his knees on the floor. subong's thumbs spread your lips apart, latching his mouth onto your clit and sucking. the curvature of your back deepened, head thrown back, a cry of pure lust brewing out of your diaphragm, heartbeat stuttering when his tongue lapped the bundle without mercy. "r-right there! just, just—ngh! hngh!—just l-like that!" "where? here?" he asked knowingly, tongue replaced by his finger, rubbing your clit mercilessly. his other hand fished his cock out from his briefs, beginning to stroke himself.

it was a cacophony of wet slick, choked moans, and squelching heat. nothing could deter it, not even the pair of friends that walked in the bathroom, chatting away and completely unaware, only to quickly back out of the room widened eyes and whispers of "oh my god, did you see them?" and "on a tuesday?" it was a sight to behold: your ass in his face; a mixture of his saliva and your slick trailing down his chin, quickly wiped by the back of his hand when he took a breath, but smearing nonetheless; his precum leaking onto the floor; your moans so delicate and raw any erotic film director would beg on their knees to cast you; and subong's affirming mhms and thats rights as he sucks and laps your clit.

subong knew you were close when your thighs began to shake. "give it to me." his hand ceased pumping his dick, both thumbs separating your puffy lips farther than before, running his tongue over your clit. "give it to me, mama," your moan made his dick twitch, eyebrows deeply furrowed, fucked-out gloss coating his eyes. "give it to me, baby, come on—" "ngh!" your body squirmed, nails scraping against the wall, one hand reaching for the top, thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm took over your body. subong was stubborn—his palms pressing your back down further, tongue unrelenting through your high, swallowing whatever you gave him. he slowed when your breathing leveled, suckling one last time before rising to his feet.

he pushed your shirt up, kissing the top of your spine, then the back of your shoulder. "hey," he said gently, hearing your shaky breaths. "still with me?" "mhm." you nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth, trying your best to remain standing. his lips kissed your temple, "everything okay?" "mhm," was all you were able to muster. "f-felt really good. needed it." "me too. i dreamt about you, baby." he whined, lips pressed to your skin. "i dreamt about you so much." his breathing became ragged, tip of his cock red and angry. "tugged at my dick so much and i never came as good as when i was with you. now you made me cum just from eating your pussy. do you see what you've done to me? do you see what you've done to your precious subongie?"

you feel dizzy, lifting your head for air. "put it in." you whisper. you push your ass into him, moaning at the feeling of his cock rutting against you. "put it in, subongie." he slowly pushed his tip in, eventually enveloped by your gummy walls. his face contorted—"how're you so much tighter than before!?" his voice was notably higher, barely moving his hips, slowly inching out of you. "h-haven't had anyone else," you sucked in a tight breath. "b-been waiting for you—hngh!" oh, you were so back ... you couldn't help the satisfied smile that stretched across your face, ears filled with his needy whines and blubbering incoherently about how much he missed you, and his girthy cock stretching you out in the way you deserve. "fuck me, subongie," you said breathlessly. "fuck me the way you dream about." "i won't last, you're so fucking tight!—" "—be the good boy you said you'd be!"

with that, he got to work. his pelvis hit your ass, not rapidly, but with reverberating force, moaning and whining like it was the last thing he'd ever do. your mouth fell open, body shaking with every thrust, eyes squeezed shut. you gasped when his hand reached into your bra, holding your left breast, biting your lip as your nipple hardened against his palm. you looked over your shoulder, catching sight of your jiggling globes every time he thrusted. "faster," you said. "faster and harder, s-subong. i—fuck!—i n-need you so b-badly!" he grabbed either side of your hips, pounding into you through his intensifying blurry haze, balls slapping against you so unapologetically that, if someone got close enough, it could've been heard from outside the door. subong wasn't showing off; he wasn't outdoing himself, to him, this was making love. here he was, fucking the woman of his dreams (he got her back!!,) hearing those moans he was so afraid would escape his memories, and fortunate to be feeling and fucking her divine pussy. talk about a jackpot.

"a-agh! f-fuck!" he cried out, hips stuttering as you began fucking him back. he looked down at the sight, watching his creamy cock disappear and reappear at your volition, his indescribable pleasure displayed on his face, envied by empty canvases wishing to capture such raw human emotion. "n-no, no!" he gasped, feeling your pussy clench around him, that knot forming in his abdomen. "y-you're killing me, baby," he panted. "b-baby—ngh!—s-stop, need to f-fuck you. m'gonna cum s'quick if you—if you, f-fuck!" you stopped abruptly, slamming against his pelvis with a shaky breath. "i'm almost there, too." you said. you sunk a little lower, pushing your ass against him. "k-keep going, my love. you're doing so good. always know how to fuck this pussy so good, hm? yeah? best dick i've ever fucking had." you whine, feeling his cock pulsate in your cunt. you look over your shoulder, feeling his hand squeeze your left asscheek, "wanna cum in me?" wanna cum in me so much that i make you a daddy? yeah?" a wall-rattling gasp shattered out of your lungs when he thrust into you hard, once. then twice. "you're going to be the fucking death of me."

subong pounded into your tight pussy mercilessly, brushing against that spongy spot deep in your cunt with little effort at the angle you were in now. "right there, right t-there! o-oh my god, f-fuck—fuck! s-subong—subong! keep going! you feel so f-f-fucking good!" your whorish mewls were no match for his. he was a goner; bottomed out; becoming lightheaded. he kept going, kept hitting that spongy haven, but it wasn't a knot in your abdomen that fleshed goosebumps across your skin, embarking on its unravel—it was deeper, more carnal than that—but before you could register it, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your leg felt wet. "o-oh—oh my g-god—" you were a mumbling mess through this indescribable orgasm, wholly aware of your body but lost in your lustful haze. subong knew exactly what was going on. it brought him over the edge. "f-fuck! fuck! fuck!" warmth coated your walls, chock-full of his cum, trailing down your thigh with your squirt. he slowed his thrusts, moving so delicately it was as if his cock was made of glass.

he stopped moving, cock resting inside your warm cunt. you were in your own world, weakly holding onto the wall, ears ringing, temples pounding. your senses cleared albeit minutely with his hands holding your shoulders, helping you stand up better. you raised your arm, planting it before you and resting your forehead against it, taking deep breaths. subong pulled out, tutting softly hearing your quiet gasp, palm tracing your lower back as a silent i know, i know. his chest heaving, subong's hand reached over, trying to tuck your hair behind your ear to talk to you, but stops when he sees your earrings—the ones he gave you all those months ago; the ones he said you didn't deserve during that explosive argument. unexpectedly to him, his eyes started to water, quickly pressing a kiss onto the back of your shoulder, mouth muffled against the fabric of your top. in the midst of your labored breathing, you don't overhear: "i love you," he whispered. he pressed another kiss. "i love you."

after a few moments, you stood up steadily, making subong lift his head. your hand aimlessly reached behind you for him."you made me ... you made me—" "—i know, i know." he spoke gently. your senses found him when his arm wrapped around your waist, lips pressing a kiss to your temple and staying there. your hand reached up, coaxing your fingers through his hair. "have we ... have we ever done that before?" "i don't think we did." "yeah ... i figured." your eyes were still closed, slowly opening when his lips peppered kisses on your jaw. "i don't—" you swallowed, mouth dry. "i don't know if i can walk straight." both of you couldn't help but laugh, his forehead resting against your temple. "you know," he cleared his throat. "i think someone came in when i was eating you out." "oh god." you murmured. "did they say anything?" "i was kinda busy to notice if they did." he chuckled lowly. "right, right."

the heat of your apartment woke you up in the middle of the night, lazily tugging the duvet of your sweaty body. subong's light snores became background noise after a press of a button, the air conditioning kicking in. in your sleepy state, you squinted at the time on the oven: 4:27 AM. shuffling to the bathroom, you emerged a few minutes later, filling a glass of water from the kitchen tap. after taking a sip, you walked to the ac unit, eyes closed whilst you cooled down, wind flowing modestly through your hair.

feeling refreshed enough, you headed back to bed. you carefully slid your glass onto the nightside table, hoping there was a enough space on the already small and cluttered surface—equipped with yours and subong's charging phones, hair ties, ibuprofen, whatever else you were too lazy to properly put away, and not lit since there was no room for a lamp—but guessed wrong, accidentally sliding both phones off. a loud clatter rang throughout the apartment, "shit!" you cursed under your breath, quickly eyeing subong. he didn't flinch, snoring peacefully. you picked the phones up, plugged his back in, and set them onto the table securely. a notif came up on his screen. by chance, your eyes glanced over. what was a mere peek became a full on stare.

it was from a crypto app. you didn't have to be a genius to know; the word was in the name of the fucking app. you read the notif before his screen went dark: You have an update on your investment. Tap to view. you have got to be fucking kidding me. you thought to yourself. without thinking, you unplugged his phone, tapping his screen to see it again. but the notif was now hidden, requiring his face id or passcode to view. is his passcode still the same as before? you wondered, thinking of those times he'd let you use his phone to connect him to the wifi, or send yourself photos from dates he'd always forget to. you look over your shoulder at his sleeping form, clueless. forget ethics, forget respecting privacy, forget trusting your partner; your brain was in overdrive. this better fucking work. you swipe up, typing 6969—it works. you tap the notif, the app loads quickly. your eyes run over an interface filled with lingo you don't know or care for and usernames that should be put on a watchlist, but then you find it: his profile. you click the icon on the bottom right corner, seeing the Investments tab with an encircled 1 next to it, clicking it, waiting for the screen to load. it only took a couple of seconds, but it was long enough to make you nervously gnaw at your bottom lip and tap your foot. then it loaded.

-850 MILLION KRW — in unmissable red at the top of the screen, above a graph you could only guess illustrated the fluctuation of his money, and other bullshit you couldn't comprehend in the moment. you stared. in silence, numb. before you knew it, the number changed: -1.19 BILLION KRW. your thumb acted before your brain could, scrolling, finding the extensive histories of his investments. he was betting hourly during the day with money he certainly did not have, losing thousands. you scrolled even deeper, finding investments from before you broke up. 50,000 krw here, 5 million there, 30 million another day .... he'd been lying that entire time. selfishly keeping more for himself, all the while consoling your crying state from not being able to make rent in time, even with what you suspected to be all he had ("i'm so sorry, baby. you don't deserve this. we don't deserve this. i'll fight your landlord for you, don't worry.") what utter bullshit.

it was all lies. it was all deception. and now he was back in your bed, peacefully asleep like everything was okay. you let him back into your life, thinking everything was going to be fucking okay. you squeeze his phone in your hand, arm shaking. your other hand sinks your fingers into your knee, as if to prevent from screaming; trying to find another outlet for the anger—fuck it! irate, you grab your glass of water and rush to his side of the bed, throwing it onto his face. he shot up immediately. you paced back and forth, eyes rolling at his coughing fit. "wha—what?" his voice was gravely, wiping his eyes. "was that—was that water?" he asked stupidly. "yes it was fucking water!" you spoke loudly, irritated at the sight of his barely opened eyes."what're you yelling for?" his voice was lower than usual, clouded by looming sleep. "it's, like, four in the morning, baby."

"don't you fucking 'baby' me." you muttered, marching up to him. you showed him his screen. "the fuck is this? hm?" "what?" he asked, wiping water off his forehead. you threw his phone onto his lap. "check your fucking investments." he picked up his phone and scrolled. he didn't say a word. you continued to pace like a madwoman, back and forth, nothing filling the air but the skid of the heels of your feet against the floor. you mentally cursed and screamed, thoughts so scrambled that if you opened your mouth all that would come out would be jibberish, so you paced. and paced. and paced. it could've been anywhere between five or ten minutes when you stopped. "well?" you asked sharply, arms crossed over your chest. "how much money did you fucking make?"

"why'd you look at my phone?" asked subong. he was trying so hard to avoid openly showing his shame; his pride prevailing. "that's—" you stuttered. "that's seriously what you're asking right now?" "yes, that's what i'm fucking asking right the fuck now." he looked up at you, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression. "you just threw water in my face. i get to ask questions." "you're a billion in debt!" you whisper-yelled, afraid your eyes would water if you were any louder. you trudged to his side of the bed, eyes wide and finger to his chest. he stared at you blankly, a twitch of his eyebrow outed his mounting frustration at his stifled shame. "you're a billion in debt, subong. where did you ... where did you even get all that money?" you swallowed, taking a step back, eyes looking everywhere but him to thwart the mounting glossiness. "why did you lie to me? all those times, all those times where i felt like it was the end. where i felt like i was at a dead end." you gestured to the couch with your hand, staring at him. "and you ... you lied. you were selfish, and didn't want to help. i ... i saw everything, subong. i know you kept on lying about your earnings when we were together."

another beat of silence. "subong, why did you put so much money into—" "—why'd you look at my phone? hm?" he interrupted, eyes wide. "why couldn't you just mind your fucking business?" "you're a billion in debt—" "i didn't owe you anything!" subong suddenly yelled, catching you off guard. he ripped the duvet off, marching up to you, finger in your face. "i didn't owe you fucking anything." he repeated, breathing hard through his nostrils. "what was it you said to me? hm? that it's my money, my punishment to have? so let me fucking have it." "you owed me everything!" you yelled, smacking his hand away. "you owed me the fucking truth!" he turned around, walking to the window leading to the balcony, hands roughly rubbing his face and hair. "why didn't you just tell me? why did you hide—" "—i did it all for you."

your eyes widened and jaw fell, appalled. "oh my god." you muttered to yourself, but he overheard. "i'm going fucking crazy. i'm going fucking crazy." you ran your hands through your hair, pacing. "i know you did not just ... i know you did not just say that." you shook your head. "how could you be so fucking stupid. how could i be so fucking stupid?" subong whipped his head around. "hey! don't call me stupid!" he walked up to you, growing angrier with your ignoring him. "hey!" he exclaimed. "don't call me stupid! i'm not stupid for taking initiative, or, or doing shit because i care about you!" his arms flailed.

"oh..." you shook your head, facing him. he felt like a first grader being told off by his teacher, frustratingly shifting his weight between his feet, unsure of where to put this uncomfortable energy. "oh no, subong. this isn't caring. this is being a complete and utter dumbass." you said, eyes porous in realization. tears were no longer in the realm of possibility. now, it was just pity. "there's no coming back from this." you made sure he knew. "you're fucked." "i know that!" he yelled, vein tight in his temple. "you don't think i fucking know that!?" subong's eyebrows furrowed. it was his turn to avoid crying. he looked away hastily, cursing repeatedly under his breath as if it'd ward off his blurring vision. he blinked hard—"i ... i tried everything." he muttered, bottom lip quivering. "i ... made deals with dangerous p-people." he cleared his throat. "i slept on benches. my own mother wouldn't pick up my calls. i've disappointed her too many times. and you ... you," he cleared his throat again. "you weren't an option." he shook his head, a tear landing on his arm. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "but ... but i have this one last chance—"

"—you're hopeless." you cut him off. "you're the worst person i've ever fucking met." subong looked at you, silently pleading to take those words back. "no." he sounded wounded. "you don't ... you don't mean that." "i do. i mean every word." you nodded. "i must have done something really horrible in a past life to be cursed with loving someone as hurtful as you." "no ..." he shook his head, his palms flattening his hair. "you don't mean what you're saying." "i do!" you yelled, voice cracking, heartbeat in your throat. a shaky breath left his lips, eyes staring at the ceiling and blinking fast, waterline feeling heavy. "no ... no, no." he muttered to himself. he took your face in his hands, eyes darting around your features, making them out even in the meek lighting of the slowly emerging sunrise. you stared blankly at the floor, emotionless between his palms.

"you don't mean those words. i know you don't." he spoke aloud, trying to convince himself. "you don't mean them." his fingers combed your hair out of your face. "i've been trying so hard. i'm so fucking scared, baby." subong shook his head quickly, but it didn't halt his falling tears. "i f-fucked up so bad." he whispered, lips quivering. he pressed kisses to your supple skin, attempting to fill the eerie silence. "but i promise—" his lips peppering your face. "i promise i'm going to fix all of this. i have a plan." subong tasted something salty, seeing a tear having fallen down your cheek. "no, no." he tutted gently, kissing it away. "don't cry. you're too beautiful to cry over a loser like me, baby." he kissed that same spot. "no, no. don't cry. here, let me hold you. come here." his lips trailed to the back of your jaw, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. even in his desperation, he was unsure. his eyes glanced at the glimmer of your dainty diamond drop earrings. "the earrings look good on you. you've always had good taste." he muttered against your shoulder. you didn't move. nor say a word. the silence was killing him. "i've been scared for so long." he whispered. your shoulder felt wet. "please ... please hold me."

he said no apology. no "i'm sorry," no "i regret this." it was a tale as old as time: redirected sympathy; a murky, multi-layered distraction, him avoiding taking full responsibility. you sympathized with his pain, you felt his hurt and the monstrous circumstance, but at some fucking point, there is only so much you could do. there is so much strength one could muster; so much mercy a heart could offer. this wasn't your problem, and you weren't going to go out of your way to make it yours. it was time to draw the line. right here, right now. you didn't recognize the man before you. he was a stranger: "subong?" "yes?" he responded quickly, a hint of hope in his tone. "when were you going to tell me about your debt?"

subong was silent, but you spoke for him. "when i get a promotion? when i get laid off? when there's an eviction notice on my door? after we elope at the courthouse, or when i tell you you're the father of my baby? hm? when were you going to tell me?" your voice was unexpectedly gentle. his shoulders started to shake, quietly sobbing. "when, subong? when?" "forgive me." he pleaded. "forgive me. please, baby—" "—get off of me." you pushed him away, slipping out of his embrace. he wiped his face with the back of his hand. "you're—you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." "you're the worst!" you exclaimed. "it's exhausting loving you! it's torture! i'm decaying from the inside!"

you took a breath, looking at this pathetic form. "i've forgiven you too much." you shook your head. "you've made me a stranger to myself. you take, and you take, and you take. i share my home, i let you fuck me, i let myself think you respect me—" "—i d-do, baby, i do! i lo—" "—i let you into the deepest, darkest pits of who i am, and you let me cry over your fucking nail polish while you were throwing away millions into something that isn't even fucking real. and you have the audacity to say it was for me?" you gesture to yourself. "as much as i tried to fix you, stupidity is in incurable disease. you're the dumbest person i've ever fucking met. you're not even smart enough to say 'i'm sorry.'"

"i never want to see you again." you turn around, your back facing him. "you don't know me. i don't know you. get out." this was it. you didn't move your eyes from the kitchen floor tiles as you heard him collect his things—the clinking of his belt; his shallow breaths; his heavy, stuttered footsteps; the clean swoosh of his pants as he put them on; over-pronounced inhales; his shoving of his feet into his sneakers—punctuated by the slam of the door. you slowly turned around. the oven read 4:53 AM. you sat on the couch, the silence heavy, only moderately cut through by the sporadic chirping of the birds outside. you sunk into the cheap cushions, hands coming up to your face, chest convulsing.

subong didn't know how long he'd been walking for. he was numb; eyes wet, cheeks swollen, snot dried, sneakers carelessly dragging against the sidewalk. the sun had risen. he could hear the taxis driving by, or catch in his peripheral vision the sight of people hurriedly leaving their apartment buildings as the morning commute commenced, but his gaze never shifted from aimless. he was wandering; nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. his chest heaved and his heart pounded in his temples, feelings buried in an overly complicated web that made his ears ring. subong's tongue was dry from breathing through his mouth, but he was so out of it he didn't bother to close his jaw.

it was the ring of a pedestrian's bike bell that temporarily took him out of this trance, stumbling a few steps to the right, letting them pass. "i'm sorry." he muttered weakly. it was only then that he looked at his surroundings, realizing he was walking along a bridge. seeing the water flow below him without issue made him feel so inconsequentially small, almost as if the car driving by or the subtle whispers of the leaves rattling in the wind told him that no matter what he did, or what he went through, or what he said, nature will be there before and after. "excuse me, sir." a voice said. subong's head felt heavy, but he turned it nonetheless. it was the man in the suit from a week ago. "i forgot to give you this after our game last week." he handed subong what looked to be a business card. "my sincerest apologies. i kindly ask that you forgive me, sir." with that, he walked away.

you woke up on the couch in the late morning, having slept through your phone alarm. you had the day off, so that wasn't exactly a concern, only to jolt awake from seering pain on side of your neck and lower back from falling asleep in such a cramped, awkward position. it was hot in the apartment again. you gradually stood on your feet, carefully stretching. "fuck." you mutter under your breath. you moved to the bathroom. you peeled your clothes off, throwing them mindlessly into the hamper. before you stepped into the shower, the glimmer of your earrings caught your sight. you tucked your hair back, staring hard into the mirror. memories of the night previous came rushing back. your quivering lip made you mad all over again, quickly taking the earrings off, throwing them into the trash bin without second thought.

you did errands. you went to work the next day. you quit your job three months later, having landed a better paying one on the opposite side of the city. a year later, you were longed moved out of your small studio and into your one bedroom abode, equipped with an in house dryer and washer. you had new friends. you had a new life. in the end, you really did get your wish of never seeing subong again.

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wingedhallows · 9 months ago

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traitor - ch. four ; sirius black

pairing: sirius black (golden trio era) x fem! oc |1.8k words warning: dark themes, death, torture plot: Fourteen years ago, Hecate Hunt, a valuable member of the Order and once a Death Eater gave her life for her friends and the man she loved, at least that's what was believed. Now she's done hiding, ready to fight alongside her old friends and her godson. Ready to return to the life she once had, ready to once again be a traitor. authors note: hi babes, i was conflicted to publish it but I thought I'll let you have it. I hope you like it :) If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

navigation | chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four

“Open this door, now!” Your voice boomed, hands hammering against the wood. Your ribs ached, the cuts and burns stinged.

You were bloody, your clothes soiled mostly with the breakfast Remus had forced down your throat before you went out.

��Let me out!” You cried, tears slowly forming in the corner of your eyes. With your vision blurry and your body aching you slowly but surely sunk to your knees.

“Please.” You whimpered.

You needed to get out. You needed to see Sirius, to see Remus, Lily and James.

With a loud yell you slammed your hands down onto the stone floor, the building cracking and shaking with the force of your magic.

“Calm yourself, Miss. You’re safe here.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. The small window which was carved through the door opened. A man, not much older than you spoke through it.

“Please, you need to let me leave. My friends, they’re-”Sorry, Miss. I can’t do that. Order of the headmaster.” He spoke. You lifted yourself. Slowly you walked up to the door which held you prisoner here.

"Headmaster? Albus put me in here?” The man faltered, trying to find the right words.

“To keep you safe, that’s all I know.” He said again. You need to get him to let you out, somehow. “I need to use the lavatory.” You said, voice small. The man sighed but pointed behind you.

“There’s a bucket-”I am not peeing in a bucket.” He sighed again but shook his head.

“I can’t let you out.” You narrowed your eyes at him and put a hand on the door, weighing your options.

“You’re going to open this door right now and lead me to the fucking toilet before I forget myself and god help me, I kill you.”

He thought for a moment, his mouth pulled in a frown. He seemed to weigh his options, your threat working wonders.

“Alright, Miss.” A bundle of keys jingled in his hand before he pushed the right key in the lock and opened the squeaky door. “This way.” He turned around and expected you to follow.

With as much strength as you could muster you kicked the man's leg and took off in a sprint. Down the stairs and out of the front door. The cold air hit you like a slap but you kept running.

You ran and ran, with your friends and your boyfriend in mind. Suddenly the hair seemed to solidify and your body was flung backwards. Albus had secured the place with a protective spell, of course.

“No, god please.” You spoke as you pushed yourself to your feet. Your body ached worse than before, your leg stung like someone had struck you with a kitchen knife.

“Fuck, fuck!” You cursed as you pushed your hands against the invisible wall.

“Hecate.” A voice spoke and you knew who had said your name. “Albus.” You said, dry and bitter.

“Stop trying, Hecate. You’ve done enough.” He said. You hated him, how he stood there. His hand clasped in front of him, his mouth in a kind smile.

“I haven’t done anything. My friends, they’re still out there and in danger, Albus. Sirius, he’s all alone.” Albus shook his head and tried to calm you once again. “They’re safe.” You shook your head, hot tears on your face.

“I told you that I didn’t want out, I didn’t need your help.” He nodded and spoke again. “I’m aware, but you did need help, Hecate.” You didn’t argue. He pulled something from his pocket, a stick, your wand.

“I believe this belongs to you.” You ripped it from his hand and pointed it right at him. “I want out of here, Albus.” He cocked his head, as to tell you to not do this.

“Let me leave, Albus, please.” He held his own wand in his hand, his other hand raised. “Hecate, please put down your wand.” Your face contorted into a glare, tears leaving your face. Searing hot rage bubbled in your chest as you looked at him.

“I need to be by their side, Albus, please.” He shook his head, a sad look on his face.

“I can’t allow that, Hecate.” A broken sob left your lips as you flung your wand, white purple light leaving the tip of it. Albus did the same. You knew you wouldn’t win, not in your state, yet you wouldn’t go down without putting up a fight.

Albus’ light grew closer and closer by the second before you flung your wand again, a different approach. The old wizard huffed as he mirrored you. It was no use, he was stronger than you.

He disarmed you with one more swish of his wand and you crumbled to the ground with the last bit of your strength leaving your body, even your fingertips seared with pain.

“Patch her up, Orenda.” You heard Dumbledore speak, your chest rose and fell with rabid breaths.

“This is for your own good, Hecate.”

He said before he vanished. The dam broke and you erupted in uncontrollable sobbing. You’d never see your friends again, little baby Harry and Sirius would be all alone.

“Hecate!” You snapped out of it and turned around to look at Remus. Oh how you had missed him. With fast steps you engulfed the man in a tight hug.

“Oh Remus.”

You caressed the back of his head with a smile on your face.

“I missed you, Hecate.” You nodded and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I missed you so so much, Remus.” Sirius and Harry made their way into the living room. Sirius was fast to put a hand around your waist, you placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m so glad to be back.” Remus nodded and sat down on the small couch.

“I’m glad you’re not..dead.”

He said, a crooked smile on his face.

“Me too.” Sirius shook his head at his friend. Harry quietly sat down at the chair next to you two and you both sat down as well.

“I was gone for so long, I missed so much.” You lowered your head as you looked at Harry. He was just a baby when Albus had imprisoned you. Now he was all grown up, looking like the spitting image of James. It was odd.

“I’m glad you’re here now.” Harry said, a small smile on his face.

“It wasn’t my choice, I would’ve been here. I would’ve raised you with Sirius and Remus by my side.” You said, tears threatening to spill as Harry nodded, a small smile on his face. He knew of course, a scenario he so willingly imagined.

“I know.” He simply said.

“It was truly awful to be away from you.” You said, voice quieter than before. Nobody said anything.

“I’ll do anything in my power to help, Harry. I’ll be here and I won’t vanish, not this time.” He nodded.

“I’ll keep you safe, I’ll do whatever, I promise, Harry, I do-”I know.” He said, his face kind. You lifted yourself off the couch, a tear working its way down your cheek.

You wrapped your arms around the young boy and rubbed his back. “We’ll do this together.” He nodded and wrapped his arms around you.

Enjoying the warmth you provided, almost like the mother he never knew, it felt familiar.

“I still can’t believe that you’re really here.” He almost whispered, his fingers ghosting over your cheek. You smiled at him before you wrapped your hand around his and placed a kiss on it.

“Me neither.” He pushed forward and placed a kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry all of this happened to you, Sirius.” He shook his head, his fingers interlaced with yours.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” Your gaze fell as you tried to keep the tears at bay. “I wasn’t here when Lily and James died, I wasn’t here when you were imprisoned and I wasn’t here to keep Harry safe.” You paused and pushed your free hand through your hair.

“I messed up big time.” Sirius placed a hand on your cheek as he looked at you.

“Listen to me, Hecate. Albus held you against your will, you had no chance to be here, to save anyone. You’re not at fault, love. You never were.” A tear slipped down your cheek.

“But, Sirius. Lily and James..”

You choked up, a soft sob leaving your lips.

“I know.” He said, a tear leaving his eyes. You clasped his face with your hands and placed a kiss on his lips. With your foreheads pressed against each other you tried to control your breathing.

“Sirius, my love. I’ll never leave you again, over my dead body.” He chuckled but placed his hand on your head. “Please don’t.” You had to smile through the tears.

“I’ll stay by your side till my last breath, I love you so much.” He nodded and pushed some hair behind your ear.

“Stop talking about your death, love. I lost you once.”

You shook your head. Your hands slipped down his jaw and halted on his throat.

“You don’t get what I’m saying.” He looked at you with a crooked smile. You smiled at him, eyes glistening with tears.

“No, apparently not. I love you too, love.” He paused before he pushed the loose strand of hair behind your ear once more. A crooked smile rested on his lips as he looked at you.

“What do you want to tell me, I don’t-”Marry me, Sirius.” You whispered. His smile fell and his eyes widened as he stared at you. “What?” You gave him a big smile.

“I lost so much time with you, so much time we could’ve spent together and so much time in which I never stopped loving you, fifteen years vanished in the blink of an eye and all I ever wanted was you, to live with you, to sleep in one bed with you, to make breakfast, lunch and dinner with you. I want to do that till the end of days, but only with you, I want all of this just with you.”

“So please, Sirius Orion Black, will you marry me?”

A big smile stretched on his lips as he pulled you in for a kiss, so loving and gentle that you seemed to forget all that happened to the both of you and all that was waiting for you, good or bad.

“Yes, love. For all that is holy, I’ll marry you.”

( taglist: @caramelandvenus )

#harrypotter #hp fanfic #marauders imagine #the marauders #marauders era #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #james potter #harry potter #sirius black fanfic #sirius black imagine #siriusblack #the marauders era #sirius black angst #harry potter fanfic #marauders

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ssahotstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Aaron Hotchner Playlist Collection 💕

All Too Well by Taylor Swift here

Part 1 can be found here

Word count: 13.2 k

Warnings for the series: drinking, cursing, mentions of food, mentions of pregnancy and allusions to fertility issues, abandonment, SMUT pretty early on(readers first time, choking, penetration, oral f&m receiving, breeding kink with the intentions of pregnancy, birth control slip up, spanking, squirting, slightly dom Hotch, bondage, use of a vibrator, masturbation, watching porn, use of a Polaroid camera to take nudes, if I missed anything let me know)

Jack does not exist in this universe. Haley is still deceased. Flashbacks are in italics

Your mind raced with questions. You knew he wouldn't answer any of them— he'd turn it on you for going through his phone, not trusting him already. You knew there was a reason not to. There was something that you knew for a fact that he was hiding. When he returned, he kissed your cheek before returning to his painting, as if nothing in the world were wrong. You almost couldn't keep quiet, but you wanted to refrain from any further arguments. It wasn't until his phone rang again that you brought it back up.

"You know, if there was someone else, you can tell me. I don't have any right to be mad."

He put his paintbrush down and silenced his phone, turning to you with a look of clear annoyance on his face.

"Would you stop? Do you have any idea how many people call my phone in a day? You don't have to jump to conclusions every time the phone rings."

You put your hands on your hips, challenging him.

"You're defensive. I'm not jumping to conclusions. You're lying."

He came towards you, his phone ringing again. You simply stared at it as he let it go to voicemail.

"It's so typical of you to start an argument when we're having a good day. You're asking questions you don't really want the answers to."

You knew then that he was keeping a woman a secret. He wasn't slick, or convincing. He was a bad liar and even worse at keeping secrets. It turned into a projection of insecurities, all thrown at you like ammunition in a gunfight.

"Just tell me the truth, Aaron. Who is she? And why is she so important that she's called 5 times?"

His phone continued to ring in the background as you argued. It was pointless, because you already knew her name, but you couldn't tell him that.

"You're unbelievable. Last night we were fucking and now we're arguing about a woman you can't even prove the existence of," he took off in the direction of the bedroom, taking his noisy phone with him. You left him alone, letting him stew in silence. You weren't going to go picking a fight, not when you were stuck with him, but you deserved to know the truth. He'd turned everything around on you, which was typical. You were planning to move in with someone who couldn't even tell you the truth.

You listened intently for any sign that he was on the phone, but you couldn't hear anything. You went down the hall, finding him laying across the bed, his phone face down on the mattress.

"Nothing about this is easy, you know. I dropped everything to come up here to get you back."

He rubbed his temples as his phone rang again, the groan that escaped his lips was impossible to miss.

"Just tell me the truth, Aaron."

He sat up suddenly, his eyes darkening by the second.

"The truth is, I'd almost decided to move on. She's my age—she would've been good for me. Her name is Beth," he said finally, the lump in your throat choking you up as you absorbed the information he was telling you.

"Oh."

You couldn't find anything else to say. He knew he was destroying you by finally telling you the truth, which is why he'd been avoiding it. His eyes grew watery as he stared back at you, hoping you had anything left to say to him.

"I've never touched her. But she's persistent."

"Maybe she could give you the life you want."

You went into the bathroom and locked the door, closing the toilet bowl lid so you could sit down. You let the tears come, silently, so you didn't disturb Aaron with your emotions. You didn't want to give him anything else to hold against you.

You found yourself running a bath, letting the tub fill up while you found music on your phone to listen to. You stripped down and climbed in, letting the warm water work at your tense muscles; it had been a long time since you'd just soaked in the tub. You could hear him on the phone, telling her he was trying to work things out with you, that she needed to stop calling, but he'd been right about one thing, her persistence was admirable. She argued with him for ten minutes about how you were too young for him; how she'd known about you was baffling on its own. He'd taken the time to explain the situation to her and she was still trying to get his attention.

"Beth, I just don't feel that way for you. You've been a good friend, but this is where my future is. I can't throw it away again. I need you to stop calling."

You had your doubts about her place in his life. She wouldn't be calling if she didn't at least think she had a chance with him—you truly had no right to be mad other than the fact that he'd lied to your face. You weren't anything right now—lost in limbo and wanting to move in together. You heard him leave the bedroom, coming to stand outside the bathroom door.

"I know you're mad at me, but she really is just a friend."

You sank deeper in the tub, not ready to face him yet.

"She was important enough for you to lie to me about."

He walked away after that, mostly to avoid another argument. There wasn't anything he could say right now that would help. You wanted to forgive him, but he was already breaking your trust over someone who knew more about you than you were comfortable with.

You went to the trouble of pampering yourself, painting your nails while you were in the tub. You stayed in long enough for them to dry before you took the time to shave, treating yourself to some of life's most simple pleasures. You were trying to bring yourself back up, boost your self esteem after it had been so easily crushed. When you finished in the tub, you lathered your body down with lotion and perfume to feel your best, braiding your hair back away from your face and doing your skincare routine. You felt like a new woman by the time you were done, slipping on your robe so you could find something to wear. You picked out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, closing the door behind you so you could get dressed. Your stomach was rumbling, because you hadn't ate all day. It was nearly the evening now.

You went down the hall to find him making dinner, standing at the stove with his back to you. He heard you come in the room, because he went rigid, as if he wasn't sure how to act now. You went to the cabinet and retrieved a bottle of wine and two glasses before you sat down at the bar, pouring you both a glass. You sat his glass close to his side of the kitchen counter, swirling your own before you took a sip.

"It was wrong of me to lie to you."

He turned around finally, refusing to meet your eyes. You weren't mad that he lied; you were mad that he left something out that could've impacted both of your futures. What if Beth would've embarrassed you later in the future and you'd been blindsided?

"You did more than lie. Some stranger knows things about me that they shouldn't. You told some random woman that obviously cares about you about me. You'd be pissed if I was sitting here telling you that some random guy knew what you put me through."

You drank your wine, waiting on anything that resembled an apology. You weren't sure an apology could repair anything at this point, but you were willing to listen to anything he had to say.

"You're right. I would be pissed. I should've told you about Beth before anything else. She's been asking me out for months and I keep saying no. She's just so nice— I felt bad being mean to her but she just won't get the hint."

"Great, I'm glad we're feeling sorry for Beth. This is going well."

You went back down the hall with your glass of wine and sat on the edge of the bed. You sat your glass down so you could put your head in your hands, exhaling shakily as you tried to calm your nerves. You could hear him still cooking in the kitchen, so you left him to it. You sat at the head of the bed, flipping on the television as you waited for him. When he was finished, he joined you with two plates of food, handing you one and sitting down with the other.

"Thank you."

It was strained, forced. You wanted to be able to feel sorry for yourself for just a little while longer. You felt disposable, like if things hadn't of worked out with you, he'd be going back to someone else. It was a lot to handle mentally, so you tried to swallow those feelings for another time. You were planning to eat dinner and go to bed.

The tension was thick and awkward as you ate, the tv playing softly in the background. Neither of you tried to say anything—there was nothing to say. He'd said there was no one else and he lied. You'd go home and be just as alone as before, but he had a contingency plan waiting on him.

"Finished the living room. I'll work on the hall tomorrow." He was still stuck on renovating this stupid house when he had Beth waiting for him— you hated the jealous feeling that she gave you. You didn't even know her and you hated her.

"I'll finish the kitchen and start on the bathroom." You played nice because you didn't want to argue. You could hear the wind picking up, blowing branches into the side of the cabin. The blizzard was moving in quickly.

He offered to take your plate to the kitchen so you let him, turning the lamp out and climbing under the covers. You wanted to forget the day had happened—you'd try again tomorrow.

"You're going to bed?"

You shrugged, sitting up on your side when he came back into the room. You weren't tired, but the only thing that would solve your current issue was to sleep off the sting of heartache.

"I dunno. I just don't want to feel like shit anymore. I feel like you know you could have her and that's why you keep her around. Just in case. It crushes me to know you have someone waiting for you to pick them. It would do the same to you too." Your voice cracked and his face softened as he sat at the foot of the bed, his hands on your feet above the covers.

"There is no keeping her around. She's my neighbor. I gave her my number in case someone was lurking around my place and I was out of town. She took it too far. Beth isn't an option for me, sugar. I'm sorry I've made you feel this way. But you're the only person that I want. I shouldn't have lied to you. But she wasn't going to stop. I'm sorry," he rubbed your legs and you sat up completely, letting him take you in his arms. You wanted to curl up in a ball and feel sorry for yourself but he wouldn't let you, not if he could help it.

"I don't like being jealous. The thought of someone else having you makes me crazy," you didn't want to think about Beth or any other woman putting their hands on him.

"Imagine how I feel knowing I'm the only person who's ever had you. It's more than jealousy; it's something I'm not very proud of," he admitted. It was nice to hear him vulnerable, to finally come clean about some of the things he kept to himself.

"I feel it too. I just love you so much Aaron. I never wanted to let you go," you hugged his neck, and he nuzzled into yours, kissing your skin lightly.

"And I love you. I'm so sorry baby. I think you're the most perfect person in the world, did you know that?" You shook your head and he kissed your cheek, his nose brushing yours lovingly before he kissed your lips.

"You are so gorgeous, so kind. So very sweet. And you smell like sugar cookies. I've missed that smell. I found a candle for my room that smells just like this and when I really miss you, I light it while I work."

You were stunned because it was one of the sweetest things you'd ever heard. It showed that he'd missed you just as much as you did him. He could've had her, but instead, he had a candle that he burned when he missed you.

"That's really sweet. I love that."

He inhaled deeply, as if he were trying to memorize the way the room smelled; he let his eyes close for a moment, resting his forehead against yours.

"I'm not as strong as you. Being alone was no good for me," he admitted, and you could only hold him tighter because you wished more than anything that you could've been there for him.

"I don't want you to be alone. But selfishly, I want to be the only person you need," you replied, earning a low chuckle from him in response. He pulled back to look at you, his hand cupping your cheek.

"You have no idea how many nights I dreamed about you. Too many. I always wanted to be right here. It's this damn job—I can't stay away from it no matter how hard I try."

You understood his dilemma. He'd always be tied to his job and you knew that now—you'd just have to make it work if you wanted to be with him this time.

"I know. You're good at what you do, and there are people out there that need you. Just don't forget that I need you too, okay? You get so focused that you forget about the people around you," you hoped it was different now that he was out of the field, but you knew how quickly he could be pulled back in. It had only taken a day the first time he left you.

"I promise you things will be different. Do you know how much faster my days will go by knowing that I get to come back home to you?" He squeezed you tight, kissing you softly right below your ear. It was tender, made you shiver.

"Mine too. I'm freelancing again," he kissed your neck, his hands around your waist.

"Penelope told me. Originally I wasn't going to call you—I was just going to show up here and beg you to talk to me, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to hear your voice. I was still so shaken up from thinking something terrible had happened to you and I just—"

He kissed you hard, swirling his tongue around yours. His hands crept beneath the fabric of your t-shirt to land on your sides, brushing them delicately with his fingertips.

"You don't know how badly I wanted you back. It's all I could think about. The whole drive up here, all I could think about was the first week here, how we hardly got anything done," you knew by his tone that he had the same plans this time around. You'd already been more productive than last time; you hadn't even touched the paint the first time around.

"All we did was try for a baby! Like ten times a day," you cackled, making him laugh along with you.

"We can try again. Who knows, maybe it'll work this time," he was slipping off your shirt, massaging your shoulders. His hands were giant, so you always thought they felt better than any normal hands. He could work all of the kinks out of you without even trying.

"Baby fever already?" You questioned, leaning back on your palms, so he could toy with your nipples, taking turns with them in his mouth, his tongue flicking lightly at them.

"It's a side effect of being around you too long. All I can think about is that crib in the bedroom and pumping you full of cum until you're pregnant," his words struck like fire between your legs, so you pulled him forward to lay on top of you, kissing him feverishly. He met your lips with urgency, tossing his own shirt to the floor so he could feel you on his skin. He was warm, and it only radiated and transferred to you as he crawled up your body.

"You're sure? If you are, we can start right now," you grinned, and he nodded profusely before guiding your sweatpants down your legs.

"I think that sounds like a great idea. We'll practice until we get it right," he was content just trying, giving himself over to you selflessly until you'd accomplished your intended goal. And if it didn't happen, he'd already made it clear that was okay too, and you'd figure out another way to become parents. He had it all figured out this time around, so you were going to let him take the reigns and lead you blindly into the temptation you'd been desperately seeking.

He pulled his own pajama pants off, his dick throbbing against the waistband of his boxers. You reached out to palm him through the fabric, earning a strained hiss in response. You tugged his boxers down so you could wrap your hands around his length, your wrist moving at a steady pace. He ceased all movement before meeting your hands with subtle thrusts, fucking your hand, his eyebrows pulled together tightly in concentration.

"So sexy," you whispered, tightening your grip on his member, which only made him go faster.

"Feels so good," he breathed, his hands on either side of your body, holding him up. You brought him forward slightly, using the tip of his dick to tease your slit. He inhaled sharply, just barely slipping into you. He slid out before he mimicked his actions, this time letting your walls clench around him as he filled you. You drug your nails down his back, making him slam into you; he was a sucker for your nails. He used to beg you to scrape them down his back, across his shoulders. Now you did it because you loved the reaction you got out of him, the light moans, the way he shivered against you.

"I hope you know how much I love you. I'm so glad you're back," he murmured against your cheek, whispering into your ear. You pulled him to meet your lips, his cock slowly gliding in and out of you. He was gentle, consuming. It was rare for him to slow down, fuck you gently; he was usually so rough and possessive.

"You promise you'll stay?" It came out more needy than you meant it, but he nodded anyway, at eye level with you.

"I promise, baby. I'm here as long as you'll have me."

You were shuddering moments later, letting him coax you through your orgasm as you wiggled against the mattress. He knew that you were powerless to him in any form, soft and sweet or full speed ahead, you couldn't help yourself. You loved every version of him that he'd give you.

"Please don't stop," his hips rolled into you agonizingly slow, the pressure building again as you gripped the sheets for stability. You could feel him pulsing inside of you, stretching you to take all of him.

"Needy girl," he breathed, sitting up slightly so he could watch himself fucking you. His hand moved to your clit, rubbing gently as he marked you as his own. You could see the crazed look in his eye, the determination to make you the most satisfied woman in the world.

"So needy, Aaron. I've never wanted anyone like this before," a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, his hands pulling you into him. He was getting close, his heart thumping rapidly, his movements more jagged and reckless. He came hard, thick ribbons of cum sputtering into you. He made a satisfied hum as he pulled out of you and tucked your legs together, instructing you to turn around. You placed your feet on the headboard and watched curiously as he pulled his boxers up and joined you, laying down beside you.

"I want to sleep beside you tonight."

He'd moved to the couch the night before, but you'd been looking forward to sharing a bed with him.

"I was hoping you would. I want to cuddle," it wasn't long before you were readjusting to put your heads on the pillows, climbing under the covers. He turned out the lamp and you snuggled in close, your head resting on his shoulder.

"That storm is awful. I bet the power will be out by tomorrow," he said between yawns, your leg tossed over his as you laid at his side.

"I hope work can live without you," you kissed his cheek, happy that he was choosing you over being at home, where he'd still be able to make it into work.

"They'll be fine. I'd rather be here."

✨✨✨

When you woke, you were alone, his side of the bed already cold. You saw your clothes at the foot of the bed, already laid out for you. You got dressed, walking down the hall to find him in the dark, drinking coffee by the stove. The power was out and you could see the snow, several feet of it piled up high against the porch.

"I made coffee on the stove, come warm up," he invited you to the couch, a blanket over his lap. You climbed beneath it and watched him pour you a cup of coffee, his legs brushing yours under the covers. The power was out, so you'd have to use the stove for everything now.

"You look cozy," you told him, brushing his face with your hand. He leaned into your touch, Gesturing to the world beyond the front door.

"You better get cozy quick because we won't be leaving for a while. According to the weather, we're looking at about three more feet by Wednesday."

"You're kidding!!" You were going to be snowed in for at least another couple of days, and then the conditions of the road after would still be sketchy. You'd known you'd probably have to wait it out but it had been a pleasant surprise in plans at him being there.

"We'll be here for a couple of days at least. We have a closet full of board games. I checked— still there," he beamed back at you from behind your mug and you couldn't help but get excited; he turned into a kid again when you broke out Monopoly.

"I never moved anything. Everything is still here." You had a plethora of items for your future child; the crib, a rocking chair that his mother had given him that matched the crib perfectly. Not to mention a many of gender neutral outfits you just couldn't help but buy; you'd both been guilty of it when you first started trying for a baby. It was the room that you'd dreaded cleaning out the most, afraid of what sort of emotions it would stir up.

"Everything?" His eyebrows shot up as he remembered something, but you weren't sure what. He left the room and came back later with a black box that you'd long since forgotten about.

"Oh my god," you were shocked to say the least, because you'd bought it to use together and it had never even been opened. The little pink vibrator had been intimidating in your online cart for weeks before Aaron finally convinced you to buy it. He wanted to try it out on you, learn how to use it on you. You'd saved it for an especially sensual day, but it had gotten stuffed into a drawer and forgotten about.

"It's a shame we never got to use this." He opened the box, the pink toy still in its plastic molding.

"Why can't we? I brought extra batteries for my flashlight," you giggled, slightly nervous but it would go away quickly, especially if he was in charge; he built your confidence up so high that it was hard to be anxious around him.

"You still want to? You mean to tell me in the year we've been apart, you didn't buy another vibrator?"

You shook your head. When you got horny, your fingers did the trick just fine; you didn't need the help of a toy, but it couldn't hurt.

"I didn't need another. I just used my fingers," you replied, your voice more flirty than normal. You were itching to know what it felt like, to see Aaron using it on you. Your fingers always did the trick, but you were interested to find out how different the experience was.

"I'd like to see you cum using your fingers," he said softly, his hand on top of your thigh. You leaned back on one end of the couch and shrugged your pants off, leaving you naked from the waist down. He watched you closely as you brought your hand to your center, spreading your soaked lips apart to reveal your clit. You looked up at him, watching him lick his lips as your fingers got closer to your bundle of nerves.

"Show me how you do it when I'm not around," he instructed, sitting down his coffee so he could bring his full attention to you. You rubbed slowly, your mouth falling open slightly as you rubbed circles on your clit, arousal dripping from your fingers. You administered a light amount of pressure as you continued to touch yourself, moaning softly as you spread your legs open further. He slipped his fingers through your slick before licking them clean, making a satisfied hum at the way you tasted. You went faster, so close to an orgasm that your legs started to tremble. Seconds later, you found your release, relaxing into the cushions. You didn't have much time to recover before he was twisting the end of the vibrator and it buzzed to life.

"Can I play with you now? I can't wait to see how much you enjoy this," he started out by teasing, bringing it to both of your nipples until they were hard and puffy against the fabric of your t-shirt, peaking through. He trailed it down your stomach before using his hand to spread you open, settling the pointy, bullet shaped mechanism directly on your clit. The sensation rattled through you, overwhelming your body as you sat up on your elbows to watch.

"How does it feel?"

Truthfully you weren't sure how to explain it— it was like having all of his fingers on you at once, moving at lightning speed.

"It's like having your hands everywhere. It's strong but it feels good," he turned up the power, making you come undone almost instantly. You lurched forward, grabbing onto his shoulders as your body shook.

"Come ride me and we'll see what it feels like while you're getting fucked," he was already undressing, so you mounted his lap and wasted no time taking him inside of you—you were greatly anticipating being able to ride him. You began to rock back and forth before he placed the vibrator back onto your clit; it took you by surprise just how powerful it was, combined with his dick deep inside of you. You groaned, your hips moving faster than Aaron could keep up. You fucked him rough, bouncing on him wildly as his head sank into the cushions. He was letting you use him in the best way,grinding against him with a ferocity he'd never seen before. He held the vibrator in place and in seconds, you were soaking his member. You shook as you tried to recover, propping up on your knees so Aaron could raise his hips upwards, slamming into you from below. You could feel his dick pulsing with the buzz of the toy, stimulating the both of you as he fucked you.

You slid back down on his member, taking back over for him when his legs started to get tired. You'd never get tired of bouncing on top of him, watching him crumble below you, struggling to keep his eyes open. You sat down on him and let him feel you completely as he came hard, letting the vibrator buzz on the couch as it fell from his grasp. You quickly shut it off so you could lean forward and kiss him, your mind blown at how good you felt. It was an indescribable feeling, it made you feel bound to him. Everything sexual you'd experienced so far had been with him, and you knew he didn't take it for granted.

"You really want me back? After all this time?" His voice cut through your thoughts; his words were laced with doubt, uncertainty.

"I don't want anyone else, Aaron."

He hugged you tightly, his chest against yours. You could feel the rise and fall of his breathing against you, his hands on the small of your back. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel insecure, and after the journey you'd been through, you were skeptical at first too, but now you felt more at home than ever, even with the power out.

"Let's move to the bed. I'll grab Clue," it was one of his favorite games to beat you at, so you wrapped up in your robe and waited for him on the bed. He was distracting in his tight black boxers, laying across from you on the bed, but you listened intently as he briefly explained the rules and you started the game. He was a lot better at solving the mysteries than you were, easily winning the first couple of games. He got truly competitive when you pulled out Monopoly, sitting up so he could put all of his focus into the game.

"Do not pass go, sorry babe! You have to go to jail," he tried not to be excited at you losing the game but he couldn't help it, the competitiveness in him was reeling at how bad you were doing. Not only did he have all of the railroads, he had Park Place and The Boardwalk, giving him a hefty advantage from the beginning.

"This is no fair! You have all my money!"

His howl of laughter as he rolled doubles only grew louder as he put hotels on Park Place, making the rent even more outrageous than it had been before. You were screwed if you landed on it, and the game would be over.

"If I win, you have to cook dinner," he wagered, and you rolled your eyes before agreeing to his terms. There was no way you were going to beat him now.

"Well I'll definitely be cooking," the odds were not in your favor as you rolled the dice, trying to roll doubles to get out of jail. It didn't work, so you handed him the dice and let him work his magic. The lights flickered before staying on completely, which meant you could blow out all of the candles you'd lit. It was late in the afternoon, nearly dinner time. The power had been out the majority of the day.

"It's a sign that we should take a dinner break," he rolled off the bed and you followed him to the kitchen. You settled on an easy meal, a frozen pizza, setting the timer and joining him on the couch. It was starting to get dark outside but all you could see was specks of white flying around, covering every surface outside. You'd never seen such a bad storm, and you were thankful you'd ended up not being alone for the duration of it.

"After I beat you, we can put on our show," he took your hand, kissing the back of it. You touched his face for a moment, tapping the end of his nose with your finger. He scrunched his face up, breaking out into a smile as he leaned forward to take you in his arms.

"I'm one turn away from losing," you reminded him, because every property coming up would bankrupt you further. You'd already had to sell your properties to be able to pay rent on Aaron's spaces.

"We can try again tomorrow," he giggled, the oven timer clicking in the background as you sat in front of the fire. You'd imagined a lifetime worth of nights on that lumpy old couch, letting the fire warm your skin as you just enjoyed each other's company. It felt surreal now, being back with him. It felt like the storm outside had been brewed up so you could settle your differences during it and come out new people afterwards.

The pizza was finished, so you put some on a plate and returned to your game. You managed to survive a few more turns while you ate dinner, laughing as he finally beat you at the game. You sorted all of the pieces while he bragged about his victory, reminding you who always won when you played games. He was just so good at them, you were bound to lose.

"Want to watch something scary?" He was already under the covers, flipping through the channels. You put Monopoly back in the closet and joined him, his arm flying up for you to crawl underneath. You let him choose a slasher film, and he turned out the lamp so you'd be more scared. The scarier the film, the more you needed him; he liked the way you gripped his arms when something terrified you, or the way you hid in his shirt at the parts that left you dying of anticipation.

"You pick these just so I'll be in your lap most of the time," he chuckled before laying down on your chest, kissing your collarbone. His fingertips grazed the skin above your waist and, tickling you lightly.

"Honestly, I love watching you jump. But I do like that it brings me close to you," he only kind of liked horror films. He liked the scare factor, but you watched a lot of thrillers. He enjoyed the twists and turns, the kind of movies that made you think. You could almost guarantee he hadn't watched much television in the last year apart; he never did before. You got him started, and he'd only watch it with you, anything you picked.

"We didn't do any painting today," you sighed, half the house still uncompleted. You had a sinking feeling that it would never be finished because something would happen, and you'd end up alone in it again.

"We'll work on it tomorrow. We'll finish the kitchen and work on the hall and the bathroom," he confirmed, maneuvering until he was laying between your legs, his head mostly on your stomach.

"What color should we use in here?"

He shrugged, looking up at you. You brought your hand to his hair, raking your fingers through it lightly. It could put him to sleep if you did it long enough, the gentle scratch of your nails against his skin.

"I like the gray," his voice was hazy, sleepy, and his eyes were already closing, so you scooted down, laying on the pillow while he situated on your chest once more. You flipped the tv to something a little more cheerful and let him fall asleep on your chest. You weren't tired yet, so you watched tv and thought about the man at your side, what he'd been through in the last year. You wondered if it had been half as difficult for him, the self loathing, the bitterness. Had he turned even colder as a result of losing you? You'd never know, but you were curious as to how it had affected his behavior around other people.

You wondered if your absence had left a sting as harsh as his. You'd spent the first week drinking, sitting in the floor of what would've been the nursery, mourning a life that you'd never have. It wasn't until an apartment came open by Penelope that you decided to get out of there, even though you'd used most of your savings to buy the cabin in the first place. You'd gotten it for a steal because it needed a lot of work cosmetically, but you didn't care. You had both loved it from the minute you stepped foot on the porch. You knew it would be your forever home when the realtor told you there was a cash offer and you both instantly agreed to counteroffer, giggling as the realtor got on the phone and set to work.

It was warm out, the dress you wore barely hitting the middle of your thigh. It clung to your skin from the humidity, but it was significantly cooler in the mountains where you currently were. You were looking at one final house, a fixer upper that your realtor had insisted you see. Aaron was curious but he'd never admit it, following behind the realtor in his car, his thumb tapping at the steering wheel. When she pulled onto an unmarked road and you drove for another mile, your interest was officially piqued, and so was his.

"Can you imagine living this far out? No one to hear how loud you are," he laughed, and you were going to respond with something sarcastic until you spied the cabin, set in the middle of the woods, a porch and small tool shed off to the side.

"Look at this place," you ogled, stepping out of the car before he had a chance to respond. You were swiftly catching up with the realtor, who was eager to show you the property.

"It comes with roughly four acres which is more than plenty for the two of you," she said sweetly, showing you where the property line ended on all sides before showing you into the house.

"It could use some updating but there's plenty of room for potential," she said cheerfully, and you watched Aaron eye the wood stove curiously before he finally asked about it.

"The previous owner is willing to teach the new owner how to maintain it properly so you don't have to use the unit. If you end up buying, I'll put you in contact with him."

You went down the hall to check out the bedrooms. There were 2, a smaller one that was still fairly open and spacious, and the larger one across the hall from the bathroom. You liked the amount of space it offered, the seclusion. You especially liked the claw foot tub and the shower on the opposite wall in the bathroom, and the twin sinks.

Aaron met you in the hall, tugging you into the empty bedroom.

"They're asking half of the market price. This place is incredible."

You nodded in agreement, buzzing energetically about buying a home with him.

"I love it. We should make an offer," you told him, and he broke into a smile.

"We already did. I heard the squeal you made when you saw the bathroom and I knew it was the one," he kissed you quickly, pulling you back into the living room to talk specifics with the realtor. By the time you left that day, you were homeowners. You still had a few weeks until you closed officially, which gave you time to pack up Aaron's apartment and get everything in order for his retirement. You thought you were dreaming when he told you it was time for him to slow down. You had only told him that you needed to hold off on starting a family until he was out of the field, and a week later he decided he was done forever.

It was an incredible feeling, him leaving his life's work to start a life with you. You felt like the most special person in the world, because you were the only woman alive to have him for yourself. His ex wife had passed tragically and the sting would always be there, ever present in his daily life, but he had finally given up on being lonely and let you make him happy.

You had dozed off, waking only when the sharp snap of a branch outside startled you. Aaron was next to you, laying flat on his back. You lazily tossed your leg over him and moved closer, soaking up his warmth. He sighed heavily in his sleep, turning his head to the side so he could kiss your forehead in his sleep.

"I love you sugar," he murmured, barely audible as he rolled onto his side to cuddle you.

"I love you," you kissed his cheek, letting him hold you in the darkness. He was awake now, his hands rubbing your sides to warm you up.

"You're cold, baby. C'mere," he pulled off his t-shirt and let you lay against his bare chest. You were always shocked by how quickly he could warm you up, making you cozy in no time. Your bodies were pressed closely together, his breath prickling goosebumps onto your neck. You let his hands wander in the darkness until they were under your shirt, fingertips tweaking your nipples lightly. You inhaled sharply before grinding your backside against his crotch, his own hips bucking back into yours like a reflex. He squeezed your ass before he slid his pants down, freeing himself from his boxers. You rolled over so you could stroke him, his dick already hard in your hand. He let out a breathy groan when your hand tightened around him, tugging gently before you pushed your own pants down and climbed on top of him. You wordlessly slid onto him, his hands dragging your hips down swiftly, because he was needy, desperate to feel you.

"You're the only person that can make me this horny in the middle of the night," he mused as you started to grind against him, working his dick effortlessly. It came naturally to you, wanting to please him in every possible way.

"I want you all the time baby," you confessed, and it was the truth; you were always ready and eager for him. No matter how infuriating, how stubborn, he could reduce you to a puddle in seconds, and you'd willingly hand yourself over to him. You reached the first of several orgasms riding him, his cock at the perfect angle inside of you, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot.

"All time time, huh? Maybe next time I can wake you up with my mouth," he purred, and your brain went fuzzy at the thought of him using his mouth on you while you were sleeping next to him, waking up to an orgasm sounded heavenly.

"Whenever you want, I'm yours," you promised him, letting him fill you as he sputtered into you, his hands holding tight to your waist. He held you in place, only letting go once he had given you every last drop of him. He let you slip back into bed next to him before he went to check the stove, leaving you alone in the bed. Once he was back, his body sought yours out, the both of you naked under the covers. You managed to fall back asleep quickly, dreaming of your very first night in the cabin.

"That was the last box. Everything is officially inside," he said proudly as he closed the door behind him, your box of kitchen plates in his arms. You had already started unpacking the kitchen, since it was the easiest room to do. You managed to get half of the dishes and food put away while he was carrying things in.

"Kitchen is almost done," you told him, taking the box so you could put away the plates. He went down the hall so he could work on the bedroom. You finished quickly, so you went to help him organize the bedroom. He was halfway done when you stepped into the room, starting to pack away clothes in the closet on your side of the room. You set your music to shuffle and worked as the music played, the room quiet except for the song that was playing. He seemed to be excited about settling in somewhere new, starting a new journey with you. You were thrilled to be living with him officially; you'd stayed at his old apartment a lot, but technically you still lived separately before now.

"I'm glad we chose this place," he said finally, crossing his arms as he looked around the room. It suited you both well, the slow lifestyle you were looking to adopt to now that he was retired. It was the perfect place for the two of you to settle down and start a family together.

"Me too. It already feels like home," you replied, crossing the room to hug him tightly. The rest of your things could wait— right now all you cared about was making sure he knew how happy you were to be starting fresh with him.

"Anywhere you are feels like home to me, sugar," he kissed the top of your head sweetly before his hands were scooping you up, tossing you on the bed. You barely had time to react before he was towering over you, your hands held tightly in the grasp of one of his, secured above your head.

"Let's break this bed in properly," he cooed, your dress rising up past your thighs as he worked to tug down your panties. You lifted your hips to help him, still pinned to the bed as he unclasped his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. He stepped out of them, teasing your aching center with the tip of his dick before he pushed into you, slowly, delicately, as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever touched.

"You're soaked, sweet girl. I would've fucked you sooner if I knew you'd been soaking your panties all morning," he began to pump in and out of you, and you tried to wiggle out of his grasp before you realized he was too strong for you.

"Where are you going baby? You don't need your hands right now," you laid still so he could continue fucking you into the mattress, the echo of your bodies slamming against one another bouncing off the walls as you whimpered under him. You were close, your eyes half lidded as he pounded into you. As soon as you came, he let go of your hands, letting you hold on tight to the fabric of his shirt. He spilled into you with a shudder, rubbing your wrists where his hands had been, kissing them tenderly before he let go.

"Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, pulling him down to kiss him before he slid out of you, grabbing a towel to clean you up with before he pulled his pants back on.

"No, not at all. You should keep me still more often," you replied, pulling your dress down so you could help him finish the bedroom.

"I want to try so many things with you," he said softly, his back turned away from you as he unpacked, but you still heard him.

"We'll try them all and then some," you assured him, filled with excitement at letting him be the first to ravage your body, to have you in such a sensitive way. You trusted him more than you ever had anyone else, and he'd never let you regret it.

✨✨✨

You blinked your eyes a few times, trying to pull yourself from slumber. You froze instantly when you felt his fingers spreading you open so he could attach his lips to your clit, flicking lightly as he tried to wake you up. Your hands rooted into his hair and you could practically feel the smirk teasing his lips. He lapped at you hungrily, insatiably, making you toss one of your legs over his shoulders as you spread yourself open for him, giving him total access to your soaking wet core. You whined at the sensation, alerting him that you were awake, which only made him speed things up, his fingers teasing your slit. You could barely see the cracks of light peeking through the window, so it was still early.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he purred, slipping a finger into your dripping wet center. He pulled the blanket down, giving you the faintest view of his silhouette in the darkness, laying between your legs like you were some sort of trophy for him to admire.

"Good morning," you moaned back, barely able to choke out the words. You stifled a moan when he slipped in another finger, sucking wildly at your clit while fucking you with his fingers. You felt the wave of pleasure rock your body as you came, gasping for air as he crawled on top of you.

"I wish you could see yourself like this," he muttered before he slid into you, cursing lightly as he bottomed out inside of you. It gave you an idea that you'd be sure to mention to him later, giving him the power to fuck you on camera so you could go back and watch it together. The thought alone turned you on immensely, seeing yourself spread open for him, the ego boost it would give him to watch you get fucked by him on a screen. You knew immediately he'd be interested in the idea, so you made a mental note to bring it up to him later.

The bed creaked under your weight as he woke you up properly; if anything, it was foreshadowing to how the rest of the day would turn out. Once he started, he just couldn't get enough, and you'd been apart for so long that he felt he had so much to make up for. It had been a year of no touching, only pleasuring yourselves. Now that he was back in your life, he'd never let you feel untouched again; his hands being on your body was one of his favorite things in the world. You'd never felt so desired, like something so sacred to him he wanted to constantly be near you.

"Please don't stop," you managed to cry out, so close to your release that you were nearly sat straight up, clenched so tightly around him you weren't sure how he was still sliding out of you.

"You feel so incredible, no way I could stop," he told you, pushing your legs further back to sit nearly on your chest as he folded you up. You came almost instantly, shouting his name as you shook. With another expertly timed thrust, he was coming deep inside of you, pulling you into him so you could be filled up with his sticky cum. The sun was finally making its appearance through an overcast sky, barely shining through the window as he looked down at you.

"I don't know what you've done to me. I'm so horny all the time, I feel like a teenager," he groaned jokingly, rubbing your thighs as he straightened your legs out.

"God, me too. Maybe it's because we spent a year without each other."

"A year of fucking my fist got old quick," he joked as he crawled next to you, leaning up against the headboard.

"You're telling me. I have a really hard time having an orgasm alone so it was really frustrating."

He listened intently, making you feel heard. He knew that before you met him, you'd never had an orgasm. You'd tried, but it just never happened for you. That quickly changed after a month of getting to know him; one night he'd offered to show you how to do it and you'd gotten carried away swiftly after, his tongue showing you exactly what you'd been missing. Once he knew he was the first and only man to pleasure you with his mouth, he went into a frenzy, going down on you multiple times in one night simply because he couldn't get enough of you.

"You can cum by yourself if I'm watching, though. I've seen it," he replied cheekily, referring to the day prior when you'd put on a show for him. It had intimidated you for a second but you quickly realized you had nothing to be afraid of, he'd never judge or criticize you, only obsess.

"It was easier with you watching than when I'm alone because you kept me turned on. I have to do it myself when I'm alone and it's hard to concentrate on that many things," you explained, and then he offered a helpful solution to your dilemma.

"Have you tried porn?"

You shook your head, but you'd always been intrigued by it. You just never had the guts to watch it alone; the idea of watching it with him made you squirm.

"I don't even know what I'd watch."

He pulled out his phone and leaned into you, pulling up a site you couldn't believe he knew how to navigate. You watched with wide eyes as he found the category page and let you browse through them, seeing if anything caught your eye.

"What do you watch?" You wondered if he'd actually tell you or if he'd be embarrassed and say that he didn't; you knew for a fact anyone that could work a website that well had seen their fair share of naked women.

"Um, just women mostly. I don't like seeing other guys in porn. Kind of ruins it for me. Besides, women are more fun to watch," you were thoroughly shocked that he was so open with you, but you appreciated his honesty. Besides, they were actresses, paid to be sexy for a living, and he didn't know them, so you weren't exactly jealous, just really intrigued.

"Show me," you handed the phone back to him and he raised an eyebrow before scrolling through some videos in his preferred category. He didn't just choose the first video he saw, he scrolled through until he found one he thought you'd like and clicked on it, making the screen bigger. They were still fully clothed, but you watched eagerly, because it stirred up feelings inside of you that were unfamiliar. You were more than slightly turned on as he held the phone out so you could both see. You were tucked underneath his arm, watching two blonde girls flirt furiously with one another. You couldn't help but notice how attractive they were, choosing a favorite immediately. You were captivated with the women on the screen, but Aaron couldn't stop looking at you.

"It'll get good, just give it time," he said softly, his eyes trained on your naked body. Even with two women about to fuck on the screen, he would rather look at you. They began to undress one another, a wet patch already on one girls panties as she stripped down. Your own pussy was throbbing, but you held off on touching yourself just yet. You were waiting on the two girls on the screen to actually start doing something other than making out.

"Do you want to keep watching or should I find something else?" It had just began to get interesting. Your favorite was naked, sprawled out on the bed as the other woman positioned herself between her legs.

"We can watch this," you breathed, holding your breath as she began to lick and suck at her clit. The video switched to a more close up view, her pussy on full display as the other girl spread her open. You'd always thought porn was just acting but you could tell both women were aroused; your favorite blonde's pussy was clenching around nothing, eagerly anticipating the other girls mouth.

"Does this turn you on? It's okay if it doesn't," instead of answering, you grabbed his free hand and guided it to your own center so he could feel for himself the mess you were making on the bedsheets.

"It definitely does," you told him as he replaced his hand with your own, urging you to touch yourself.

"Don't be shy, baby. You're soaked," he was thoroughly amused with how much you were enjoying it, so you brought your fingers to your clit and you were instantly sighing in relief as you began to touch yourself. You watched her lean down and kiss your favorite woman's pussy, her tongue slowly slipping through her slick folds. You were just as wet, your fingers slippery as you pleasured yourself.

"I didn't know it would be so hot, watching other girls touch each other," you admitted, although you were the only one watching the screen. Aaron's concentration was on your center, his cock throbbing as he watched you touch yourself.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Do you think you can cum from watching porn? I'm not going to touch you, even though I really want to," he wanted to to cum on your own, so he handed you the phone and he moved to the foot of the bed, where he had a better view of you. You watched his eyes trail up your legs, spread wide open.

"I think so. You're not watching?" He shook his head, nodding towards you.

"I'd rather watch you, sweetheart. This was all about learning your body, remember? Making sure you know how to take care of yourself in case I'm not around," his voice was strained as he tugged as his cock, the tip leaky with precum already, red and angry as he stroked himself. He was sexier than anything on the screen, so you sat the phone down and focused all of your attention on him.

"Maybe I just need a video of us, because I'd rather watch you," you told him, earning a strangled moan in response. He sat up slightly so he could see you better, tugging your legs further apart by your ankles.

"That's it baby, show me every inch of you. You're so fucking sexy," he went faster and so did you, so close to release that you were gritting your teeth, your body felt as light as air.

"I need you to cum, Aaron," you said desperately, knowing that his own release would send you hurdling over the edge quickly. All you could think about was watching him cum into his hand, making a mess all over his stomach, and helping him clean it up afterwards. He let his thumb ghost over the tip of his cock, squeezing tightly around his member as he groaned, shooting cum all over his stomach and thigh. You cried out, overwhelmed by your orgasm and the sight before you, because you'd never seen him so raw, so purely sensual. You both calmed down some, panting for breath, looking at one another with smiles plastered to your faces.

"You're filthy and I'm corrupting you," he laughed, holding his hands out for you to take. You pulled him towards you, so he'd crawl back to the head of the bed with you.

"Not really. I'm a willing participant," you reminded him, leaning into him. You didn't sit for long, because you had your mind set to one thing, and it was finishing the kitchen. You stood suddenly, grabbing an old t-shirt from the closet and a pair of sweatpants so you could get dressed.

"Please don't tell me we're painting already," he groaned, and you nodded, heading towards the kitchen so you could make coffee. The snow had stopped, now all you had to do was wait for it to clear up enough to be drivable. He joined you in the kitchen right after, wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts.

"Coffee, and then we'll start," you told him, pouring you both a cup as he sat at the bar. You still had half the kitchen left to paint, along with the rest of the house.

"We'll easily get finished in here today. Maybe once the weather clears up, we can go shopping. Update this place a little," he offered, and you happily agreed, knowing the couch was long overdue to be replaced. It had been in his apartment for ages before you showed up, and you could really use a new one.

"I don't know if you're interested, but I have a bed much bigger than this one at my apartment," you said, and he shook his head behind his mug.

"Do you know how many memories we've made in that bed? I've had that bed for like, 6 years now," he defended, but you put your hand up to stop him.

"6 years, which means I'm not the only woman who's been in this bed, so we need a new one."

He didn't argue, but you could tell he wasn't happy about letting go of it. You weren't sure if it was the fact that he'd shared the bed with Haley, or if some other forced tied him to it, but regardless, he was pissed at the idea of getting rid of it. He went off to paint the hall without another word, so you turned your music on and worked on finishing the kitchen. He didn't speak a word until well after lunch, when he was finished.

"Gonna start on the bathroom," he called, grabbing a new color of paint, rinsing his paintbrush at the sink. You could tell he was annoyed, but you couldn't figure out why exactly.

"Are you mad at me?"

You weren't sure why he would be, but he shrugged anyway, looking over his shoulder at you.

"I'm not mad. I'm just annoyed that we've been back together for three days and you're already controlling everything," your heart sank because that hadn't been your intention at all. You didn't feel controlling, if anything, you were just trying to help by bringing up a newer, bigger bed.

You stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. Instead, you let him go back down the hall to paint.

You finished the kitchen around 4pm, the clouds darkening outside. You started working on dinner, because Aaron was still painting. You wanted to talk to him but you didn't want to upset him any further, so you kept yourself busy, breading and frying chicken on the stove. You cleaned as you cooked so there was less mess to pick up, your phone breaking the silence for the first time in days. It was Penelope.

"Hotch is with you?!"

She didn't offer a greeting, she was just shocked.

"We're snowed in, Penelope. He came up to help but it's a lot to explain," you didn't want to give her the details just yet, so you were as vague as possible.

"Are you okay? Is he being nice?"

"I'm okay. We're fine. No worries," you assured her, although your voice threatened to give you away, because you were very worried; you'd just gotten back together but you were already arguing over the same small issues as before.

"I refuse to believe that. You—you don't sound happy," she said carefully, but you assured her all was well so you could get off the phone. You hung up, cautious not to burn dinner, but still verging on tears. You'd never tried to be controlling, he'd never said anything like that before, so if it was an issue, you didn't know until now.

You finished dinner, going down the hall to find Aaron. He wasn't in the bathroom, but rather in the bedroom you'd chosen for the nursery, going through the several outfits and toys you'd bought for the baby that never arrived.

"I made dinner."

He held up a little yellow onesie for you to see, his gaze averted to the floor.

"What should we do with this stuff?"

His voice faltered for a moment as he looked around the room, baby items everywhere. You'd avoided coming in here so you didn't get sad, but Aaron had given you no choice.

"I thought we were keeping it," you were afraid of upsetting him further, so you spoke with care, afraid of pissing him off any more.

"What's the point? Do you honestly think we'll ever have a baby?"

You could see the tears staining his face, and you weren't sure how to approach the situation. He'd only cried once before over Haley, and part of you suspected that was his issue now: the past.

"I want to," you placed a comforting hand on his back only for him to shrug you away, taking a jolting step forward away from you.

"Who are we kidding, Y/n! We can't just move in here and have a baby! This place isn't just going to solve our issues," he was shouting, so you took a step back towards the door to escape his fury.

"You—you don't want to fix things?" You felt stupid for getting your hopes up yet again, because he'd only ever disappoint you. He'd make you feel incredible and then tear you down right after. You couldn't believe you'd let him back in so easily when he was still the same: selfish, cold when he was angry, always trying to push you away. You weren't going to try to convince him; if he was serious, you'd just let him go back home, and continue life without him. It would be hard a second time, but not impossible.

"We're in over our heads. We thought this place would save a relationship we don't even have anymore."

"How can you say that?! How do you go from being so caring, so loving, to this? We were fine a couple of hours ago until I suggested getting rid of that stupid bed—"

That set him off.

"That bed is all I have left of the woman I loved! I got rid of everything else when you came along—you're not taking the bed too." He added a certain bitter tone to his words, making the tears spill over before you had a chance to stop them.

"I didn't know, Aaron. I'm sorry." You left the room and shut yourself in the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You could hear him mumbling about wanting to go home, how he couldn't wait to get back to the city, and that only made you cry harder. It was all crumbling in front of your eyes a second time, and you couldn't control any of it.

You struggled to breathe, gasping for air as you clutched the bathroom sink, your vision blurry and your head pounding. You didn't start to freak out until you couldn't catch your breath, hyperventilating as you put your head between your legs, trying to calm down.

You still couldn't breathe.

You stood up, coughing loudly as you tried to get air into your lungs, running water at the sink, splashing your face. You could hear Aaron pounding on the door, asking if you were okay. You wouldn't have let him in if you weren't terrified, but you still couldn't breathe, and you couldn't figure out why.

He came in, sitting you down on the toilet as he begged you to calm down; your sobs had gotten caught up in your throat and sucked all the air from your lungs.

"Please, sugar, you gotta calm down, okay? Come here," you scrambled into his arms, taking a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself. After a few minutes of him rubbing your back, rocking you back and forth on the ground, you were doing better, still not fully recovered, but you were breathing normally.

"I'm sorry about the bed," you said weakly, wiping the tears from your eyes before they could fall.

"I don't care about the bed. I just want to make sure you're alright, baby. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I got emotional about a baby and took it out on you over the bed and I'm sorry."

He wasn't the only one emotional about a baby. You'd prayed so many nights for a child that he'd never know, praying for the family you longed for. You knew the universe would never let it happen unless the two of you really got your shit together.

"We can't keep doing this. Either decide to stay or let me sell this place."

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glattandblade · 4 years ago

Note

hanahaki fic with any character?

Sure thing! Thank you for your request <3 I’ve never written Hanahaki before, so I hope I did it justice :D Thank you again!

By Author Blade <3

Title: Hanahaki (C!Schlatt x GN!Reader)

Summary: You’ve developed Hanahaki disease. And the cure seems out of reach.

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending!), lots of mentions of death, also lots of mentions of vomiting & coughing (related to flowers), cursing

Word Count: 1212

Recently, your illness has been getting worse.

What started as coughing up a few petals every couple of days has gradually grown into choking on full bouquets.

Your doctor had told you it was Hanahaki, the disease of unrequited love. Your face had paled at that. The only way to cure Hanahaki was to have your beloved return your feelings. And God knows that wasn’t going to happen, on account of your “beloved” being kind of a dick.

Schlatt’s a self centered, rude, annoying, fucking dick.

But all the same, you loved him.

It’s gross.

The flowers started forming when you began working for him. It was hard moving and starting a new life, but you found yourself very close to your boss- the President. He was kind to you… sometimes. Being his secretary, you had the power to fuck him over a bit, so he usually leaned on your good side.

That doesn’t mean you were free from his teasing and overall cockiness.

As the disease progressed, you started to wonder why you were in love with someone like him. Why go through all this pain for him? What’s the fucking point if nothing is going to come out of it? You’d be leaning over the toilet, choking on your third rose, wishing you could just Get. Over. Him.

But then he’d gently knock at the door, ask if you were okay, and your heart would squeeze. You’d quickly flush away the flowers, tell him you were fine, and hope to God that he didn’t see it as important enough to prod.

It worked for a while, but then it became a daily occurrence.

You’d have to slip away from your duties after a terrible coughing fit to go get it all out of your system in the bathroom. At first, Schlatt was angry that you’d leave your desk or skip out on meetings, but then he noticed the pattern. He never pushed you further than asking if you were alright through a closed door whenever he passed by and heard the coughing. He did feel like his secretary’s health was something he should know about, though. He just never knew how to approach you about it.

Caring would look vulnerable, and he’s got a fucking country to run. He was never good with feelings in the first place anyway, so he just stuck to the sidelines, making mental notes on your health for the day. Maybe one day you’d tell him and he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Or you’d die and he would know the answer.

What he didn’t know was that thoughts like those were what was killing you.

After a particularly hard day, you spent the whole night over the toilet. He had touched you. A light graze of the fingers, sure, but it was enough to send the flowers into overdrive. You called in the next day, hoping everyone would assume that you were just overworked and needed the day off, but Schlatt was more aware of the situation than that, to your dismay.

He had showed up at your house. You could feel the flowers building up your throat. You held them down as much as you could as he talked to you, but it was hard.

You could barely register what he was saying as you started to cough so hard that you fell to your knees. He reached out and caught you, but that just made it worse. You couldn’t hold them back anymore, and the flowers started to fly out, all over the floor and all over him.

He stared at them with curious concern. He held you in a gentle way he didn’t think possible, taking one of the flowers between his fingers.

Hanahaki.

Of course, he’s heard about it. Who hasn’t? The death rate for Hanahaki’s way too high.

The two of you moved to the bathroom where you finished your fit.

His voice was uncharacteristically quiet when he spoke, breaking the silence, “Who is it?” You almost didn’t hear him.

“It.. it doesn’t matter, Schlatt.” Your voice was hoarse, it hurt to talk. You could feel the flowers fighting to come back up as he got closer to you, sitting down on the floor next to you. You coughed hard before continuing, “I-I’ll be okay.”

“Well I really fuckin’ doubt that, sweetheart. You just threw up my dead Grandma’s bouquet.” Usually, that would make you laugh, at least a little, but you could feel the flowers pushing at your throat and squeezing your lungs from just how close he was to you.

“Just tell me, (Y/N). Maybe I can help.”

You smiled at him, though it was sad. Those words only made it worse. He didn’t realize that the kindness he was showing you was only feeding the flowers.

“You aren’t going to be… mad? Or laugh?” It felt silly, but you needed the reassurance right now.

“We’re not fucking 12, (Y/N).”

“Right.”

You cleared your throat, hoping to suck down any stray flowers so you could speak. Your brain found it hard to find the right words, so you just went with the shortest, simplest thing you could think of. Something he’d understand immediately and you wouldn't have to repeat yourself.

“I love you.”

He paused, then looked at you, eyes wide and mouth open a bit.

“You what?”

Okay, not the best reaction, but he didn’t seem mad, at least.

“Schlatt don’t make me repeat myself, my throat hurts as it is.” A tease, a joke. Lighthearted enough to distract yourself from the fact that if he doesn’t reciprocate, you’re dead.

“No, no. I get it. I’m sexy as fuck- I’m the president, for God’s sake. And any one knows that everyone and their mom wanted to fuck Obama-”

He rambled on for a bit like that, inflating his ego a little in the process. You stared at him blankly, waiting for him to finish to give you a proper answer.

“You’re my secretary, though! Isn’t that kind of weird? Actually it’s kind of hot-”

You rolled your eyes.

“But if people found out? My name would be smeared. Then again, you’re really pretty. Have I told you that? Oh fuck, maybe now isn’t the right time-”

“Schlatt?”

He turned to you, having looked away during his rant, “Yeah?”

“Are you going to kiss me? Or just ramble like an idiot?”

“I’m not an idiot. Maybe a fool, but I’m not an idiot.”

“So are you going to kiss-” And before you could finish, he leaned forward, cutting you off with a kiss.

And it was a damn good kiss at that, for this kiss was enough to seal that he did, in fact, give a shit about you. You felt a weight lift off your lungs, your throat cleared up, and for the first time in months, you felt happy.

His hands on your hips, your arms around his neck, the way he had to bend down to reach your lips and you had to push yourself up to reach his... It was uncomfortable, actually. You’re on the bathroom floor for Christ’s sake, but you wouldn’t trade this kiss for the world.

You were finally free of that wretched disease, and now you could kiss him whenever you wanted.

Masterlist

#thank you for your request!#authorblade #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #c!schlatt x reader #c!jschlatt x reader #dsmp #dsmp x reader #hanahaki #angst with a happy ending #death mention #vomiting mention #jschlatt dsmp #schlatt dsmp #attempt at humor #sometimes i think im funny tbh #enjoy!#thought to be unrequited love

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kaylaxwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Bar Fight

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Words: 2.1k Request: “Idk if you are up for it but if you are, a request: Frank Castle x reader where he has to stitch her up after she gets into a fight with a guy at the bar who was hitting on her and touched her inappropriately, Frank being both mad at her for putting herself in danger and fighting a bigger guy and also being impressed at how baddass she is because he didnt expect her to get into a fight” (anon) A/N: god I wish I could write smut bc this got real close folks. and this accidentally skipped the two requests above this, but I’m finishing up Punisher season 2, so I have a little bit more inspo for Frank

Warnings: reader gets groped nonconsensually by a stranger, reader gets called a bitch (but I don’t think I used anything worse), lots of cursing, but I mean, it’s a punisher fic

You sipped at your drink as you sat at the bar, fiddling idly with the straw your drink was served with, waiting for Frank to show up. It was your weekly date—between your job and Frank’s…whatever he did, it was hard to find the time to spend with one another. But Frank was running late. And you were getting annoyed.

As you debated sending Frank a text, a man slid against the bar next to you, despite the numerous empty seats on either side of you. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t feel like dealing with whatever bullshit this was about to bring. You tried your best to ignore him, but looks like he was going to make that impossible.

“Hey there,” he said, ducking his head down to try and get in your line of sight.

“Hi,” you deadpanned. You glanced around the room, hoping Frank had arrived without you noticing.

“What’s your name, gorgeous? I’m Aaron.”

You finished the last of your drink in one quick gulp. “Does it matter?”

“Just making conversation, baby, what’s the big deal?”

You swiveled in your chair to face him. “The deal is I’m clearly not interested. Now fuck off and go bother someone else.”

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he said as he slid his hand down your back to grope at your ass and hip. You ducked your head down and grimaced. Looks like it was gonna take more than a verbal no to get rid of this guy. Fuck. You rolled your head back up to look at the man, a fake smile plastered on your face. From his answering smirk, he fell for it.

You slid down from your seat and swung your jacket over your shoulders, tossing a handful of dollar bills on the counter to cover your tab. “Let’s take this outside, handsome,” you said, brushing past him and heading for the door. The instant your face was out of his sight, your smiled dropped and you rolled your eyes as he trailed after you. You could practically feel his gaze on the swing of your hips as you walked.

Pushing the door open, you breathed in the crisp fall air as you stepped outside, thankful for the easy breeze that cooled your skin and settled your mind. You were already wound up from the workday you just had and this definitely wasn’t how you wanted to finish out your evening. You just wanted to be with Frank and not have to worry about anything other than you and him.

As you walked around the corner of the building to the alleyway, you briefly went over the self-defense moves Frank had taught you in the past year or so you’d known him. With the practice from all the drills he made you run, you were confident you could take this guy—at least enough to shake some decency into his head and to send him running with his tail tucked between his legs.

You allowed the man to cage you in against the wall, a hand on either side of your head. You fought down your gag reflex as his smoke-coated breath fanned over your face. “You gave in pretty quick,” he said. “The chase is half the fun.” He leaned in closer to you, widening his stance. You grinned to yourself at the opportunity the movement presented.

“Harass all your girls like that?” you asked. A confused raise of an eyebrow was all he had time for before you were moving.

In one quick exhale, you brought your knee up into the man’s groin. As he doubled over, you slammed your elbow into the side of his head. You took a few steps away to give yourself distance and prepare for you next move, but he recovered faster than you thought he would. Within a few seconds, he was on you, wrapping you in a bear hug from behind. This was the most recent move you learned from Frank, but you had no time to hesitate. You dropped your center of gravity and rolled forward, flipping the taller man over your shoulder. You scrambled to your feet, but a sharp pain at your calf nearly brought you to your knees. You glanced down and the deep red on your pant leg nearly made you nauseous.

The fucker had a knife and he sliced your leg open. And these were your favorite pair of pants!

Before you could let your anger and adrenaline consume you and make you attempt to beat the man within an inch of his life (keyword: attempt), he let out a squeal. You glanced over. A boot was pressed none-too-gently into his wrist—you could almost hear the bone snap. You followed the leg up until you met Frank’s eyes.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Frank slid his attention back to the man at his feet. Aaron was frantically trying to pry Frank’s boot off of his arm, but Frank was immovable. “The hell is going on here?” he asked, looking to you for answers.

Before you could answer, Aaron started stammering out an answer. “She—she started it, man! I was just—I was just defending myself!”

“That right?” Frank’s eyes turned to yours once more.

“More or less,” you shrugged, more focused on the gash on your leg. Maybe you had started the altercation, but… “Asshole groped me at the bar. Thought I knew enough to teach him some manners.”

“Yeah? We’ll talk about that later,” he said, pointing to you before returning his attention to the man at his feet. “You out here assaulting women?”

“It’s not like that, man! C’mon, get off me!” Aaron cried, struggling to pull his arm free.

Frank knelt to get closer to the man’s face, never easing the pressure on his wrist. “Calling my girl a liar, then?”

“Goddamn bitch led me on!” Aaron shouted.

“I was minding my own goddamn business!” you shouted back, plopping yourself onto the ground and pressing your hand against your still-bleeding wound.

“See?” Frank said, leaning even closer to the man pinned on the ground. “I think I believe her over you.” He pressed harder into the man’s arm, pressing until you could hear it snap from several feet away. You almost winced in sympathy.

“I didn’t know she was yours!” Aaron screamed as his forearm snapped clean in two.

“Doesn’t fucking matter.”

The next few moments were a blur. You kept your eyes on your leg, trying to ignore the constant sound of Frank’s fist pounding into flesh. Sure, maybe you started the fight, but you hated watching Frank finish them. After several minutes, you called out his name.

“Frank,” you said, softly at first. Then louder. “Frank. Frank!” On the third call of his name, he paused. He didn’t look at you, but you knew he was listening. “Piece of shit’s not worth it.” He moved to swing another punch, but you called out again, “He’s not worth it. Frank, please. I just want to go home.”

With a huff, Frank rose from his knees. He gave one last kick to Aaron’s ribs before turning to you. You took his outstretched hands and he pulled you to your feet. You wobbled for a moment, but Frank was there to steady you. He pulled your arm over his shoulder and grabbed you around the waist. Half carrying you, he helped you limp home.

The stairs to your apartment turned out to be one hurdle you couldn’t clear. After gasping and whimpering your way up a handful of stairs, Frank had had enough and pulled you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining flights.

Once in your apartment, Frank sat you gently on the bathroom counter before ducking down to grab the first aid kit from the cabinet underneath you. He sat on the closed toilet seat and pulled your injured leg across his lap. You winced as he pulled your pant leg up and over your wound. He poured medical-grade alcohol onto a gauze pad and began cleaning the skin around the gash. “What, no scotch to pour over my open wound dramatically?” you tried to joke. You’d seen Frank stitch himself up dozens of times now and not once did he ever use the actual alcohol meant for cleaning wounds.

Frank just glanced up at you before returning to the task at hand. “It’s gonna need stitches,” he said.

“Shit, really?” You leaned down to take a closer look. Surely it couldn’t be that bad, right? But the sight nearly turned your stomach and you leaned back, closing your eyes. “Yeah, okay.” You tried to psych yourself up. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Frank did it all the time without flinching, you could handle it, right?

Frank gave no warning before sliding the needle through your skin. “Fucking shit,” you cried out, clutching the edge of the sink so hard you thought it might break. The other seven stitches were a similar stream of curses. At one point, Frank had to hook his elbow around your ankle to keep you from kicking out. He scolded you for squirming, but you didn’t really register the words.

You breathed heavily when it was over, panting against the wall. Frank carefully wrapped gauze around your calf and tapped your knee when he was finished. He slid you to the edge of the counter to make enough room for him to wash his hands in the sink. “How…do you do that?” you asked him.

“Years of practice,” he deadpanned.

He packed up the first aid kit wordlessly, not once looking at you. When he was finished, he just stared blankly into the sink, thoughts churning in his head. His anger radiated off him in waves. You were the first to break under the oppressive silence. “Frank?” you asked hesitantly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he exploded after a heavy inhale. “Huh, Y/N? What made you think you could go up against a man twice your size?”

“I was thinking I had a great teacher—”

“For self-defense! Not to go after the first guy you see!”

“He fucking groped me, Frank! What, I’m supposed to let that slide by? Ignore him until he finds some other girl to harass, to assault?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

You let out a dry laugh. “Then what are you saying, huh?”

“You call me. You call me and I handle it.”

“I don’t need some knight in shining armor to come and rescue me!” you shouted, leaning into his personal space.

Just as quick, he was right back in your face, pushing himself between your thighs to be that much closer. “And I don’t need you throwing yourself into harm’s way!”

You stared into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. Like a coil snapping back into place, his lips were on yours. Your head ricocheted off the mirror behind you, but you barely felt it. Your arms were looping around his neck, ankles hooking over his hips, pulling him closer, closer. But it wasn’t close enough.

His hands roamed over every inch of skin he could touch. Starting by rubbing his thumbs softly over your cheekbones, sliding down your neck, palms brushing over your collarbones. Easing over your shoulders and down your arms next, gripping protectively at your waist, massaging at your hips. Grazing over your thighs, down your calf—one misplaced press against your newly stitched wound had you gasping and pulling away.

Frank instinctually moved to step away from you, but you grasped at the collar of his shirt to keep him in place. You leaned your forehead against his, using the time to catch your breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—” Frank started quietly.

“I’m fine,” you whispered in response. “Just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Frank settled back between your thighs, leaning his weight against the bathroom counter you were still sat upon. He took a minute to let his eyes roam over your face before you spoke. “You’re pretty great, you know that?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Watching you toss that man over your shoulder like he was nothin’… Sexiest goddamn thing I’ve seen.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. “Well, I did learn from the sexiest man alive. Think if I petitioned to get you on the cover of People’s Magazine it would blow your cover?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Just a bit?”

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“So you can ravage me, Mr. Castle?”

Frank pulled you to the edge of the bathroom counter and wrapped an arm under your thighs, lifting you and carrying you to your bedroom. “We’ll see about that.”

#frank castle x reader #the punisher x reader #punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #frank castle imagine #mcu imagine #mine

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chaotic-noceur · 4 years ago

Text

malaysia truly asia

paring: Nanami Kento x Malaysian!Reader

summary: the story of how Nanami had come to know about Malaysia and his first trip to the country he had longed to visit

warnings + contents: food/eating, beach, multilingual reader (malay is mentioned, the rest is implied), malaysia references (contextual notes are provided!)

a/n: I never thought knowing the Malaysian slogan would come in handy but here I am. Words cannot express how excited my Malaysian heart got when Nanami mentioned Malaysia so I'm hurling this into the tumblr void for anyone interested :)

contextual notes + malay transalation

terima kasih = thank you

ringgit = Malaysian currency

tokyo is an hour ahead of kuantan

sunrise is around 7am in Malaysia, anytime from 4-6am in Tokyo (according to google)

roti canai = 'Indian-influenced flatbread dish' (wikipedia)

roti tisu = similar to roti canai, except thinner and shaped like a cone

pasar malam = night market, usually on closed off sections of road

flag erasers are often collected by school kids who purchase them from the on campus bookshop

"You're not from here." He says it with such assertion that there was no room to deny it, not that you were going to. You quirk an eyebrow up at him instead from your place on your bed. He nods to the english book currently in your hands as if it's a way of answer. Your head tilts to one side and he sighs before continuing. "Your Japanese is good, but you speak it with hints of... uncertainty, like it's not your mother tongue." I would know, he doesn't say. Your gaze falls from his bashfully and he seems to realise the implication of his words. "I apologise, I hadn't meant it as an insult. I was merely hoping to ask about your childhood."

Your mouth forms an o before you reply with a curt "I grew up in Malaysia and then my family moved here." He seems to consider your answer for a moment before nodding and returning his attention to his book. The pair of you fall silent, residual noise from Gojo's graduation party filters in to fill the gap. Before long, you notice his gaze flitting around the room as he shifts in his seat, a sure sign that he was looking for an opportunity to speak more. You chuckling lightly before putting your book away. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." Your eyes narrow slightly to deduce if he's teasing. But his eyes hold nothing but genuine curiosity. It was rare for Nanami to ever display his true emotions but there was something about his eyes that was always readable to you. So you talk. You tell him about the road trips you used to take up the peninsula, showed him photos of your childhood, pointed out the few bits of home that were scattered around your room. He clings on to every word as you tell him about the near-constant summer, complained about the humidity, and reminisced about the food that you dearly missed.

Truthfully, you are surprised by his interest. Few people had even heard of the small, dual-part country, even fewer have shown any interest in learning more. Maybe this is the moment you fell in love with him. Or at least, it's the moment you accept your feelings for him as something beyond an passing crush but as something worth fighting for.

“I hope we can visit it some day,” he says when you finish.

We, not I, you think. Your heart flutters in your chest at the realisation. He is seemingly unaware at the implication. You reply with a simple “maybe”, refusing to give in to the false hope that he returns your feelings.

Some months later, you find him huddled in a quiet corner of the Jujustu High library engrossed in a book of Malaysian history, a small notepad open beside him. Where he acquired the book was beyond you. With nothing better to do with your rare moment of free time, you shrug your shoulders before heading towards him, making noises as you move so as to not startle him when you settle beside him.

You're flipping through your book in search of the bookmark when he speaks, "would you like me to read to you?" You turn to look at him so fast he's concerned you might have gotten whiplash. His cheeks are flushed slightly and he refuses to meet your eye. You blink at him for several moments and he clears his throat awkwardly. "I just - well, I was hoping to practice my English with you. It's um.." he rubs at the base of his neck, "it's been a while since I've spoken it."

"Oh," you begin for lack of words. For as long as you've known him, he has never once mentioned being multilingual. Then again, he rarely ever talked about himself. Preferring to let Yuu take the lead in conversations or to direct questions away from himself. "Sure, I'd love to help!"

"Te-li-ma kah-sir?"

"Te-ri-ma ka-sih," you correct as you swipe through the selection of in-flight movies. Nanami repeats after you and you nod before smiling at him.

"And what about 'where is the toilet?'"

Your tapping stops momentarily. "Formally, or informally?" He deadpans at you and you chuckle in response. "Di manakah tandas?" His pen glides along his pocket notebook before he repeats after you once more. "Love, you know you'll be fine with just English right?"

He drops his pen and takes a sip of beer from the clear plastic cup before responding. "I know, but it's a sign of respect to make an attempt to learn the official language." A soft smile graces your face before you resume your scrolling. You really are the luckiest human on the planet to be able to call him yours.

It's mid-afternoon when you finally leave Kuatan Airport. Travel fatigue begins to set in on the taxi ride to the beach resort Nanami had booked. You loop your arm with his before settling you head on his shoulder. Instead of telling you that you should've slept on the plane like he would've done if it was anyone else, he simply graces your forehead with a kiss before returning his gaze to the map on his phone.

Checking into the resort is a smooth process. Nanami makes quick work of talking to the receptionist before the pair of you make your way to your room, the resort porter guiding you. Nanami had been inclined to refuse but the porter rejected his offer. The pair of you make light conversation with the resort porter as you walk, Nanami using his arsenal of Malay when he can.

When you arrive at your room, Nanami takes your bags from the porter as you unlock the door. He settles the bags inside as you shake the porter's hand in thanks, passing along a 5 ringgit bill. They thank you with a bow before taking their leave. Nanami shoots you a look of surprise when he notices the action. "I wasn't aware that there was a tipping culture in Malaysia."

"There isn't, not to the extent that westerner do anyway. It's really just porters and housekeeping." You shrug.

He scowls at your slightly. "Regardless, you should have informed me," he grumbles. You chuckle at him before patting his chest lightly, avoiding his sunglasses that hang from the v of his button up.

"Well, you'll have plenty of opportunities to leave a tip for housekeeping." You're staying here for two week after all.

As Nanami does a quick sweep of the room, you set up the wifi for your respective devices before making your way to the snack cabinet. You whoop when you find a packet of your favourite childhood snack. Nanami pokes his head out from the bathroom at the sound, only to raise a curious eyebrow when he finds you crouch on the floor, holding the packet as if it was your child. "What?" you exclaim, "I haven't seen these in years!" His arms shoot up in surrender before he returns to his checks, his lips curling into a smile at your antics.

When Nanami returns to the bedroom, he finds you asleep on the sofa, phone slipping from your grip. He removes it before it falls as he rubs at his eyes as the travel fatigue begins to hit him too. The long flight and layover hadn't done either of you any favours but he supposes that what he gets for choosing a city with a small airport.

He changes you out of your travel clothes before moving you to the bed. Once he stashes your valuables into the safe, he freshens himself up before crawling in beside you. You smell of an airport and the mist the flight attendants had sprayed in the cabin but he doesn't care as he nuzzles his nose into your neck.

This is peace, he thinks. No missions, no curses and no Gojou Satoru. Just the two of you and a (mostly) endless supply of sunshine. He likes the thought of that.

When he wakes from his nap, you’re no longer by his side. He panics for a moment before he turns and finds you sitting out on the wooden deck, admiring the ocean view as the sun begins to set. Raking a hand through his hair, he climbs out of bed and makes his way to you. You smile at him as he sits down before laying your head against his shoulder, his arm looping around your waist.

“Sorry I threw us off schedule,” you say after a while.

You feel his head shake against yours before he says, “as long as you're by my side, there's nothing to apologise for. We’re on holiday. Let’s enjoy the peace while it lasts.”

“Afraid Gojou’s going to appear out of thin air?” you tease. He groans at the mention of his senior's name.

"Don't mention that name again. You'll jinx us." This time, you can't help laugh against him. You peck his cheek in consolidation and he think maybe, just maybe, for once in his life, Gojou will keep his meddling fingers out of things that are none of his concern.

The next two weeks go by in a blur of delicious food, sandy toes and a ridiculous amount of sweat. If there was one thing you didn't miss about Malaysia, it was the humidity. But it never stopped Nanami from intertwining his fingers with yours or ghosting a kiss onto your temple. The pair of you had quickly settled into fragments of a routine since you had first arrived.

Every morning, Kento watches the sunrise from the cushioned seat on the wooden deck. The first time it happened was unintentional. His body had become habituated to waking up early for work. That, combined with the 1 hour time difference and the fact that the sun rose significantly later in Malaysia, meant that he had woken up well before the sky had shown any indication of light. You were still fast asleep, unmoving even as he slowly untangled himself from you. So as to not disturb you, he made himself a cup of tea and read from his Kindle on the wooden deck until the sun had began poking out of the horizon.

Then it just became his own little ritual. On occasions where you wake with him, the pair of you take a walk along the beach. The ocean waves kiss your bare feet to the beat of a song you do not know as you talk about your plans for the day. You stumble across a sea turtle laying her eggs one morning and the pair of you settle onto the sand, far enough away as to not spook her, but close enough to marvel at the rare sight.

Nanami pulls out his phone after a while to record a quick video and sends it to Yuuji. Not long after, Gojou attempts to facetime him and Nanami turns off his phone without hesitation. You chuckle at their antics before you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. Nanami declines all of Gojou calls for you and he gives up after 7 rejections. In hindsight, Nanami really should have seen that coming but he blames the cloud of holiday bliss that fogs his mind.

The rest of your days are spent enjoying the ocean breeze (or more often, the ocean heat), exploring the local attractions, immersing yourselves in the culture and best of all, devouring authentic Malaysian food. Nanami had made a list of the most recommended dining locations ranging from high end restaurants to road side food stalls and you make it your shared mission to visit every single one before you leave.

At each shop, he informs you of the best rated dishes but trusts your instincts/cravings for the most part. You point out any items that he 'has to try, at least once' and he asks questions about the items that pique his interest. More often than not, the pair of you will order a variety of dishes and share them, not able to settle on just one. Being the bread lover that he is, he takes a liking to roti canai. Although he isn't particularly unadventurous with his choices, always settling for a plain roti canai and opting for experimenting with curries instead. So, you take the plunge for him, knowing he'll likely be intrigued by the pointy hat shaped crepe that sits before you — he later learns that it's a roti tisu, or the stuffed roti that arrives. (He thanks you later.)

On your last night there, the pair of you make your way to the biggest pasar malam in the city. Nanami had a list of local fruits that he was hoping to buy while you had a list of souvenir ideas for the kids and your coworkers. You walk hand in hand, following the flow of footfall as your eyes scan the stalls. Nanami doesn't particularly know what he's looking for as he passes the snack stalls but he's enjoying himself all the same as he watches you converse with the stall keepers in a foreign tongue. He slips out of his daze when he feels a cold packet being pressed against his hand. "What's this?" He slips his wrist through the plastic loop and grips the tied-off section of the bag.

"Sugar cane!" you chirp, radiating an excited aura that rivalled Yuuji. Must be the atmosphere, he thinks. He takes a sip through the straw as you receive your change. Sweetness floods his taste buds but don’t overwhelm them. He savours the refreshing coolness it brings, contrasting the humidity. You look to him expectedly as you tug him further down the street. “Good?” you ask over the noise from the crowd.

“Acceptable.” There's a look of content tugging on his features that contradicts his tone and a soft smile tugs at your lips before you're promptly distracted by another stall.

When you finally arrive at the fruit stalls, you’re armed with a packet of cheap flag erasers for the students and an assortment of sugary snacks for the school staff room. The crowd had dwindled as you moved further towards the back of the market, allowing you a clear view of most of the stalls before you.

Nanami tugs on your intertwined hands before leading you towards a stall with mountains of rambutans and mangosteens. He nods politely at the elderly couple manning the store and accepts the plastic basket they hand him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the smile that tugs at his lips when they greet him in English. Undoubted pleased to be able to use his skills.

“I assume I should pick the ones that are not blackened and soft?” he says to you when the couple finish explaining the pricing. You nod in response as you begin carefully placing fruits into the basket. Nanami mimics your actions beside you before his attention is grabbed by the fruits to your right. “Is that what I believe it to be?”

You follow his gaze as he speaks. When they fall on spiky green fruits and packets of yellow, your eyes light up in delight. “Mhmm,” you hum before turning back to face him. There’s a sparkle of wonder in his eyes that makes you laugh before you turn to speak to the woman, “how much for a packet of durian?”

You look wistfully at the whole durians as the lady bags your items. As much as you would love to see Nanami use his 7:3 technique on the fruit (you can almost sense your ancestors rolling over in their graves at the thought), you know you won't be able to finish it off by yourselves. Besides, there is no guarantee that Nanami wouldn't hate it.

Rather uneventfully, Nanami does not hate durian on instinct — "the smell is uninviting, but the fruit itself is decent," he says as he helps himself to another. So, with the remnants of fruit juice clinging to your lips and the lingering smell of durian on your breath (despite your best efforts to get rid of both), the pair of you now walk along the beach's shoreline. Your pinkies are looped as you rejoice in the complete and utter sense of peace. There are no curses to be worrying about, no impromptu visit from a certain colleague. And for the first time in a long long time, Nanami feels like he can let his guard down. He feels like he doesn’t need to keep looking over his shoulder all the time. He doesn't feel the weight of the country's safety settling in his chest.

“We should come back some time,” he says as the waves lap at your feet gently.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “not sick of fending off mosquitoes and melting in the heat yet?” There’s a teasing glint in your eyes and he chuckles along with you.

He smiles at you then — genuinely, without fear of showing his emotions, shakes his head and kisses your temple gently. “Maybe we can visit your family next time. You can show me where you grew up, your favourite places, where you had your first date...” You smack him across his chest for his teasing while he chuckles at the action.

“Maybe one day.” He interlocks your hands then and ghosts a kiss over your knuckles before looping it over your shoulder to pull you into his chest. One day... when you’re both rid of this curse-riddled life.

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #asian!Reader #malaysian!Reader #**jujutsu kaisen #kay writes #this will get all of 5 notes but eh #it was self indulgent #food #food mentioned #eating #eating mentioned #beach

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official-weasley · 4 years ago

Text

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: curse words, mentions of alcohol, SMUT

A/N: This chapter contains a rather long sexy scene (probably the longest I have ever written and well..it’s…juicy. I had a day, okay. BYE 🙈)

Chapter 14

Charlie

3 months later…

“Charlie, you got a minute?” I stopped in front of the Admission Office.

“Of course, Ernie. Got something for me?” I grinned at him.

“A letter from your brother.” He handed me the envelope. “What got you all cheered up today?”

“What do you mean?” I kept looking at the letter.

After all these months it still felt amazing getting a couple of letters per week from Bill.

“I heard you whistling walking here. You only whistle when you’re in a really good mood.” He smirked.

“It’s the first Saturday in August, Ernie. You know what that means!” I couldn’t hide the smile that spread across my face.

I can’t believe Ernie noticed when I whistle.

The truth is, I don’t recall the last time I was this happy. The mating season was over. Bill and I were on speaking terms again. Just last month I was able to see all my siblings and my parents again.

We had a family reunion and Bill and I got Ron drunk by accident. We had two bottles on the table. One with wine and the other with apple juice and we forgot to check the bottle before pouring him a drink.

He, of course, didn’t say anything and after two glasses he was hammered. Bill and I couldn’t stop laughing at the way he spoke and he was so tipsy. He tried getting up and almost fell flat on his face and then found it so funny that he fell off the bench we were sitting on.

It wasn’t funny when mum found us and saw something was wrong. Bill tried to distract her but failed and she figured us out. She made us take Ron to bed and then we planned to hide in the attic with the ghoul but mum found us and she shouted in our faces for a solid hour. I felt as if I was 12 again.

When she stopped she made us go down and wait on our family members for the rest of the night. Before we did, we made an excuse that we need to use the toilet and we locked ourselves in the bathroom on the middle floor and started laughing so hard I thought I won’t be able to catch a breath. We might be 23 and 25, which is way too old to make mum so mad, but we didn’t care. We were having the time of our lives.

I can’t begin to describe how happy it made me that I could hang out with Bill again. With my siblings. To get a bone-crushing hug from Ginny and play chess with Ron. It’s indescribable. For the first time since I started working in Romania, I wanted to plan my days off to go and see them again and I was loving it.

I was finally myself again. Talking to my family. Supporting and being there for my siblings. Teasing Bill for being so in love and having the best job in the world. I even made myself a bookshelf and I am slowly filling it with books.

My routine in the Sanctuary is more or less the same. I wake up. Make myself a coffee and go watch the sunrise. I am no longer overthinking if Rhylee’s going to be there and if she is, we simply watch the sun showing itself from behind the mountains together.

I didn’t think I would be able to be friends with her after what happened at her place that night but we grew even closer. She was one of my best friends. That didn’t mean my feelings for her faded away. But they were easier to bear now that I didn’t feel guilty for being in love with her.

I have come to terms that I will never call her mine. It was painful, I am not going to lie about that but at least I can move on and not overthink her every move.

Bill and my friends in the Reserve all think that I should tell her how I feel but every time they try and persuade me I stop them. I made a mistake telling my mates what Bill told me about Nick. Ever since I did they are trying to do everything to bring me and Rhylee together. At first, I wanted to kill them but now I just find it amusing.

I am proud of myself for how much I’ve grown. I feel more mature and I see things differently. I see what matters and I push myself to do things that make me happy. I read more. I run. I train Aami and Bean, that’s the name Rhylee decided to give our albino Short-Snout. I hang out with my friends and advise my siblings. I really couldn’t ask for more.

The fact that I am still awestruck every time I see Rhylee or that my heart wants to escape my ribcage every time she laughs or looks at me, is just a minor inconvenience now. I can deal with that with everything else being so great. I wouldn’t change my current life for anything in the world if it means I make my family happy and I can hang out with my friends while having the best job.

At first, I wanted to fight my feelings. Push them down. Get rid of them somehow. But I quickly realized that I can’t change them and that it’s pointless to think they are simply going away. I have meaningless sex and even though it’s never as it was with Rhylee, it still counts as a fun night and it’s a good distraction.

I might get lucky and find myself a girl to settle down with one day. For now, I was happy with the things being as they were. It wasn’t perfect but it was much much better compared to the painful loop I was in before.

“I’ll be damned!” Ernie’s voice brought me back to reality. “I forgot about the party tonight!” He slammed his hand at his forehead. “Thanks, Charlie for reminding me! Can you imagine me forgetting about it?” He shook his head.

“Ernie, if it’s going to be anything like last year, just the music and us being all over the place would remind you soon enough.” I laughed.

Every year, in the first week of August we had a party. We invited everybody from the neighboring wizard villages and there was always someone that borrowed something Muggles call speakers. We decorate the central area of our village with lights and put tables and chairs around it so it looks like a dance floor. We hang the speakers from the trees and we help with the cooking throughout the day.

The party officially begins the second we are done with work and the music starts playing. It’s something we all look forward to all summer. Theo has been talking about it for two weeks now. He made an entire plan on getting us all so wasted that if he asked Gerta out again, we won’t remember how she slaps him in the face.

“You’re right, mate! I’ll see you there!” Ernie started putting papers together. “I have to clean up the office early if I want to make it to the party in time!”

“Want me to help you? I just finished working.” I offered.

“Oh, no! You go get all nice and ready, so you can dance with the ladies!” He laughed and I followed.

“Will do, Ernie. Will do.” I waved to him and started walking toward my home.

People were already running left and right, checking if everything is ready. I unlocked my front door and closed it with my foot while opening Bill’s letter.

Dear Charlie,

I know you’re going to be busy this weekend with your big party and everything, but I just had to write to you about this.

I bought a wedding ring for Fleur today. I am planning on asking her to marry me this weekend. I am taking her to the beach near Shell Cottage. Dad said that perhaps we could even buy it if we ask aunt Muriel nicely. I don’t want to get my hopes up but I can imagine myself living with Fleur there.

I am planning a romantic picnic and popping the question by the end of the night! I would love your opinion on the matter but I sent out this letter too late for your owl to reach me with your answer. Perhaps while you’re reading this, I’m already engaged!

Can you feel how nervous I am through my letter?

Anyways, I just needed to share that with you!

Wish me luck!

Oh, and have fun at the party! Please have the time of your life and don’t hold back in case anything ought to happen, if you know what I mean!

Love, Bill

Merlin’s beard, he is getting engaged! It was Saturday, so either he is already or he will be soon!

I jumped in the air in the middle of my living room that’s how happy I was for him. I hope they can convince aunt Muriel to sell them Shell Cottage. We used to go there as kids and it’s a wonderful place to start a family.

I blinked as I felt my eyes water. I wish I had the time to write him back and tell him how fucking proud I am of him for doing this and that I think Fleur will be thrilled for how he is planning to propose. I can’t wait for them to have babies so I can be an uncle!

What was I doing?

I put the letter down and scratched my head. I was so excited for my brother that I completely forgot.

Party! Right!

I hurried to take a shower and then opened my closet to see what I could wear. I didn’t wear jeans for ages. So let’s go with that and a buttoned shirt. I checked myself out in the small mirror in the bathroom and combed my hair with my fingers. As much as I could comb it. My hair was untamable.

I think I look pretty good! Not that it matters as I knew Theo is going to get us all drunk in about 15 minutes! I locked the door behind me and started walking toward the music.

“There he is!” Andrew raised his glass at me the second he spotted me.

“Look at you being all handsome!” Theo put a hand over my shoulder the second I sat down.

“Are you flirting with me, Theodore?” I winked at him. “My place or yours?”

“Damn, Charles. Is that how you flirt with women because if I wasn’t married I would go with you right now.” Peter laughed.

“I would love to, Weasley. But I am going home with Gerta tonight!” Theo was determined.

“Really?” Andrew and John asked together before bursting out laughing.

“We should get one of those Muggle devices that capture what is going on. So that even if none of us remembers tonight we could watch it in the morning.” Evan said.

“I will stay sober just to see Theo get slapped by Gerta!” Peter smirked.

“You’re already tipsy, boss.” Andrew obviously didn’t believe Peter will stay sober.

“Damn, you’re right.” Peter said after a few seconds of thinking about it.

We all started laughing.

Three hours later our table had 3 empty bottles of Fire Whiskey on it, more empty beer bottles than one could count and the waitress just brought another round. To say that we were completely hammered was an understatement.

We were laughing at something, tears running down my face. I am pretty confident none of us knew what the joke was or who told it.

“Theodore, there you are damn it!” Our faces got serious the second we comprehended who was standing in front of us.

“Gerta, love!” Theo stood up, knocking a few bottles off the table.

“I am just wasted enough to say yes to you. Now come with me before I change my mind!”

I have no idea how Theo fancied this woman. I was terrified of her. Even her harsh voice scared me.

We all watched Theo and Gerta going towards her hut with our mouths open.

“Please, tell me one of us will be able to remember that in the morning!” Peter whined.

“I don’t think I could forget this if I drank the entire alcohol stash in the Sanctuary.” Andrew said slowly.

He looked like he was about to throw up.

“What is happening?” Evan, who was sleeping, leaned on his crossed arms, lifted his head.

“Gerta just took Theo home.” I answered, still in shock.

“What?!” I thought his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets and I think it’s safe to say he just sobered up.

“Look, Charlie!” Peter and John leaned against me. “It’s Rhylee.” They sang together.

“So?” I rolled my eyes.

I knew this was coming. I was hoping they would be too drunk to remember to tease me about her, but apparently, they weren’t there yet.

“Come on! Go and dance with her!” John tried pushing me to stand up but he was too weak.

It was funny how I was the youngest but did the best with alcohol.

“Give me a break, mates.” I pretended to look through the bottles to see if there was one that wasn’t opened yet.

“C’mon! She has been eyeing you all night!” Peter said. “Have some fun, will you!”

I sighed and got up. I knew they wouldn’t stop until I would go and ask her to dance. And to be perfectly honest, I was too drunk to care or to feel nervous about it.

I made my way to her. Surprised that I wasn’t tipsy at all.

“Hi.” I waved at her awkwardly. “Want to dance?”

“Sure!” She grinned and stood up at once.

I haven’t noticed how drunk she was until we reached the dance floor and she started hugging me. We danced to a few songs and I didn’t even dare to look at the table where my friends were sitting. They would probably start cheering.

The next song was a slow one. Shit! Who’s idea was this?

Rhylee pulled me closer, our bodies slamming against each other and if I wasn’t so steady on my feet we would collapse to the ground. She wrapped her arms around my waist and brought her face closer to mine.

“You look very handsome tonight.” She winked at me.

Okay, I think it’s time to take her home. She is drunk and doesn’t know what she’s saying.

“Thanks. You look great too.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Of course, she looked great. She was gorgeous. But I’m not going to admit that to her.

I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. Not one bit. It’s the same look she was giving me all night the night we had sex at the Burrow and I am not going through that again. I might not be hurting anyone this time but she was in a relationship.

“Let’s get you home, shall we.” I smiled at her and hugged her over the shoulder.

“No! Why?” She tried to stop me. “We just started dancing. Come on, Charlie! Loosen up a bit!” She got so close to me that if I wouldn’t move my head backward we would kiss.

This was getting out of hand.

She wrapped her hands around me again. How was she so strong if she was as drunk as she appeared to be? I sighed and we danced through one more song.

“Okay, now you can take me home.” Her whispering in my ear sent shivers down my spine.

We were slowly making our way through the crowd, toward her cottage when I remembered that I never opened the present she got me for Christmas at the Burrow. I have no idea why it popped in my head but I was just drunk enough not to care and admit to her that I lost it.

“Hey, Rhy?” I cleared my throat.

“Yes?” Her eyes were too hopeful for my liking.

“Do you remember the present you gave me for Christmas when we met?” She simply hummed in response.

I felt my cheeks turn pink. This was embarrassing. After what happened between us and she gave me the little package, I simply tossed it in my bag. I don’t remember where I put it once I got back to Romania and I don’t even know why we are talking about it now but apparently drunk Charlie’s curiosity got the better of him and wants to know what’s inside.

“I never got the chance to open it and I misplaced it somehow. What was inside?” I said as quickly as I could.

I didn’t want to offend her for losing it.

“What?” She laughed.

“What was inside the little box?” I repeated the question.

“Where did you lose it?” She ignored me.

“It has to be somewhere in my cottage if I didn’t toss it in the trash by accident.” I scratched my chin, thinking hard where it could be.

“Well, let’s go then!” She grabbed my hand and started walking.

“Where are you taking me?” I chuckled.

“We are going to search your place for my present!” She bestowed me with the biggest grin I have ever seen.

She seemed so pleased with her idea.

“Now?” I chortled.

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “The gift might be silly but we got to see what I got you!”

“You don’t remember?” I raised my eyebrows at her and she stopped walking for a second.

“I am not sure.” She said slowly after a few seconds. “Come on, Charlie! It’ll be fun!”

I haven’t seen her this relaxed and happy in months. She grabbed my hand and started walking towards my cottage again. She was so excited to do this that I simply couldn’t deny her the satisfaction of finding the little box. And to be completely honest, I didn’t want to stop her.

“Okay, so if I was a little box, where would I be?” She put her hands on her hips, thinking hard, her eyes scanning every shelf and drawer. I started in the kitchen and she went to check the compartment in my bathroom.

After half an hour we completely trashed the place but I didn’t mind at all. I was having too much fun with her. She started throwing the clothes out of my closet, jumper after jumper and I started moving the socks away to see if I tossed it in the drawer.

I almost gave up when my fingers touched something that wasn’t fabric. I pulled out a small red box with a green bow on it. This was it!

“Rhy, I found it!” I heard her gasp.

I think she was standing inside my closet. I laughed when she poked her head out of it. She was adorable!

She hurried to me, stepping over piles of clothes, and stopped right in front of me.

“Open it.” She whispered, her eyes on the box in my hands.

I slowly removed the lid and shook the box’s contents onto my palm. I couldn’t believe it. It was a dragon scale. A dragon scale of an albino dragon.

That’s what she got me for Christmas?

I know it didn’t mean anything because she didn’t even know who she was bringing the gift to but I was still astounded. She knew I loved dragons so she got me a dragon scale. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

“You call this a silly gift?” I breathed.

Rhylee dragged her finger across it and put it back in the box. I was so in shock at what it was that I didn’t notice how fast she was breathing. She took the box from my hand and placed it on top of my dresser.

“Rhy, are you o…”

She cupped my face and kissed me hard on the mouth. I was so startled by her action that I didn’t have the time to respond.

“I’m sorry.” She pulled away, her hand over her mouth.

“Emm…it’s okay.” I didn’t know what to say.

I just kept staring at her with my eyes wide open, trying to calm my heart down.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” I could see the panic in her eyes growing.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to pretend I didn’t enjoy the kiss? Because that would be a bloody lie. I have been dreaming about kissing her again since we spent the night together at the Burrow.

Did she even know what she was doing? How drunk was she? Because that kiss definitely sobered me up! I thought we were over this. She stopped that night when I came to her place. Why did she do it now? I thought I was doing a good job being her friend. Why does she mess with me like this!

I needed every muscle in my body not to grab her hand and pull her back for another kiss. I can’t do this, can I? She has a boyfriend. Somebody will get hurt again! I can’t go through that guilt again. I can’t hurt someone else. Even if I don’t know the guy. Even if he is a prick like Bill said.

Bill…

What did Bill say in his letter this morning?

Please have the time of your life and don’t hold back in case anything ought to happen, if you know what I mean!

Don’t hold back. Bill, that’s not helping!

I was trapped. I wanted to grab her hand and prevent her from leaving but at the same time, I wanted to do the right thing. My heart was beating so fast that it hurt and the look in Rhylee’s eyes wasn’t helping me decide. It was a mix of panic and hope. Hope, that I would decide for her whether or not this was a bad idea.

Of course, it’s a bad idea, Rhylee! It’s the worst possible idea.

“I have to go.” She bowed her head and started towards the door of my bedroom.

It’s a bad idea.

It is a really bad idea.

I know, damn it!

But do I care?

I stepped toward her, almost tripping over the clothes on the floor.

Do I care?

I grabbed her hand and turned her around, our bodies colliding. Her eyes slowly moved up to lock with mine. We were both breathing heavily.

“Charlie.”

Damn it, Rhylee! You can’t say my name like that. Don’t ask for me to do something.

Okay, let’s go over this again.

Is it a bad idea? Yes.

Do I care? I am just drunk enough that it’s safe to say that no, I do not.

I placed my hands around her neck and kissed her. I thought she was going to resist me. I was waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. She was doing quite to opposite. She parted my lips with her tongue and it gently found mine. She was kissing me back.

Merlin’s beard, this was insane! I can’t believe I forgot how good her lips felt on mine. What an amazing kisser she was. How soft her lips were and with what passion she kissed me.

I put her hands on her hips and brought us closer to the bed. With a gentle nudge, she was lying on it, that playful look in her eyes again. I climbed on top of her and wrapped my fingers around her hair and gently pulled it back so she tilted her head and revealed her neck.

I placed a soft kiss just behind her right ear and I felt her tremble. I kissed her again, not so softly this time. I started biting her neck and I felt her moving under me.

This simply can’t be wrong. It felt too right to be wrong.

I pushed myself up and started to unbutton my shirt. I looked down at her. Damn, she was so sexy. She always was but the fact that she was wearing a dress when she always wears either jeans or sweatpants was frying my brain.

“Please, fuck me, Charlie!”

Seriously, she was begging me?

Why in Godric’s Hollow did I put a shirt with so many buttons on? I don’t have time to do this! I put my hands on my chest and pulled the shirt off me. The sound of fabric ripping filled my ears and my heart started pumping even faster when I saw Rhylee’s eyes shine.

I helped her get up and pressed her against the wall. She wants me to do her, I will do it my way!

I took my precious time unzipping her dress. I could feel her getting impatient but I knew she liked the tease. If she only knew what she got herself into.

She took her arms out of her sleeves and shook her body so the dress fell off her. I turned her around, her back to the wall now, and spread her legs. She was observing my every move, curious what I was going to do next.

“Lift your arms.” I demanded and without questioning me they were above her head.

I wrapped my left hand around her wrists and pulled her underwear down with my right one. I unhooked her bra without hesitation. She was now standing in front of me, completely naked. I stuck my tongue down her throat while circling her nipple. She moaned in my mouth.

Oh, Rhylee, you haven’t felt anything yet.

I slowly moved my fingers down across her belly button, still kissing her. It didn’t really surprise me that the second my fingers ran past her clit, they drowned in her wetness. She gasped in my mouth as I started moving them in circles.

I let go of her arms now and she put them around my neck, trying to keep it together. I have to say she was doing a rather poor job.

“What is it?” I teased her when I started moving my fingers around faster and her eyes rolled back.

“Fuck…you.” She said between her moans.

“I’m a little busy focusing on you right now, Rhy.” I whispered to her.

She tried squeezing her legs together but I didn’t let her. I felt her getting tighter and I was determined not to stop until she screams from pleasure.

“Are you going to cum already?” I laughed playfully.

“I…I can’t hold it.” She cried.

“Oh, don’t hold back.” I bit the tip of her ear as her breathing got even faster.

She buried her fingers in my hair and kissed me. She was pressing hard against my lips, clutching my fingers with her soaked walls, muffling her moans with the kiss. It was pure euphoria, feeling her tremble. It brought me pleasure on another level.

“Stop.” She finally pulled herself together to talk.

“Are you sure?” I mocked her.

The look in her eyes was saying otherwise.

“It’s your turn.” She winked at me.

“Oh, I am not done with you.” I pressed her harder against the wall and placed a gentle kiss on her collar bone.

She winced, her body still sensitive to my touch.

She was speechless and her eyes were full of the wonder of what my next move will be.

“You begged me to fuck you. Don’t you know you have to think before you speak?”

I bit her neck. And her shoulder. And made a few circles with my tongue around her nipple, while playing with the other one with my finger. I kissed the scar that painted her belly. And just below the belly button. I got to my knees and spread her legs again.

I slowly ran my finger across her clit and she shivered.

“Are you ready to cum for me again?” She bit her lip and nodded in reply.

My fingers slipped back into her. This time I decided to take it more slowly. Let’s see how she likes it if I move my fingers in and out. Does that do anything?

She arched her back, scratching the wall behind her. And what if I do this?

I spread her legs just a bit more, lowered my head, and kissed her wet lips.

“Oh.” She let out a sigh.

I ran my tongue over her clit and started turning it in gentle circles. As she started breathing faster I doubled the pressure and felt her knees give in.

“Keep it together, Rhy.” I teased, my fingers still hard at work.

She grabbed my hair and pushed me back to continue my work.

“Fuck, Charlie.”

I don’t know if she was so horny or was I doing such a good job as it didn’t take her long to cum again. Her body was spasming more than before and this time she didn’t have my lips to stifle her moans. I loved how loud she was. How her pleasureful sounds filled my ears. It was like a drug.

I got up and wrapped my arms around her. She was a mess.

“Have enough yet?” I winked at her.

“No.” She giggled.

“Good.” I nodded.

I put my hands on her hips and lifted her and she automatically wrapped her legs around me. I gave her just enough space between our bodies that she unzipped my jeans and pulled them off.

She grabbed my dick, looking me straight in the eyes, and bit her lips when she placed it right in front of her juicy entrance. I don’t know what she was expecting as a surprised gasp left her mouth when I thrust in her.

She wrapped her arms around me and held tight to keep herself steady, moaning while I was rocking my hips back and forth.

Fuck, she felt good. This was insane. I knew that with all the adrenaline running through my veins, the alcohol left my head a long time ago but I still felt dizzy. I can’t believe it was even better than the last time.

I fantasized about sleeping with her more times than I would like to admit. I just couldn’t help it. She was the best I ever had. I could be myself around her. Somehow I knew exactly what she wanted and I wanted to give it to her. Badly.

I have to start thinking about something else. She felt too good and she was getting tighter again. I want to wreck her completely. I want her to forget her name and I want her to scream mine again.

“Charlie.” She moaned in my ear.

“Have enough of me yet?”

“Charlie.” She said louder.

“Yeah.”

“I…”

“What is it, sweetheart?” I placed a soft kiss on her neck as I started to move my hips even faster.

“I…”

“Come on, you can do it.” I encouraged her to speak.

I was too amused by how weak she was.

“Oh, my…” Her eyelids fluttered and I felt her squeezing me even more.

“Cum for me again.” I breathed.

I could watch her moan and twist from pleasure all night every night.

“Charlie, I can’t.” She finally managed to complete a full sentence.

I stopped moving my hips and froze.

“Are you okay?” I lifted her chin and made her look at me.

“Why the fuck did you stop?” Her eyes widened.

“You said you can’t, I thought…” I blinked at her.

I was so confused.

“I…” She bit her lip and looked away.

“What is it?” I tilted my head to find her eyes again.

“I never came three times before.” She mumbled so fast that I thought I heard her wrong.

“Oh.” I pressed my lips together, to stop them from spreading into a smile. “Well, do you think you could cum again?” I asked gently.

“Yes. I was close.” That naughty smile is going to be the death of me.

“Then let’s break your record, shall we?” I smirked at her and lifted her so she wrapped her legs around me again.

I entered her slowly this time and she pushed my hips more towards her immediately when she saw what I was doing.

“Don’t get slow on me now, Weasley.” She bit my lip and sent a new wave of adrenaline through my veins.

I decided to tease her just for saying that. I slowly pulled my hips back, so that only my tip was inside of her and then pushed my hips forward again with such a force that it took her breath away.

I did it again.

And again and again and again until she started screaming from pleasure again. For a second I thought she was going to pass out as her eyes sealed shut and she gasped for air between her moans. But I was determined not to stop until her body relaxes or she tells me to stop. She was doing neither.

She barely had the strength to wrap her hand around my neck so I could lift her when she stopped moaning. I took her to my bed and covered her.

“What are you doing?” She asked, her voice rusty from all the sounds she was making.

“I’m going to take a shower. You need some rest.” I winked at her.

“We need to take care of you first.” Her eyes moved from mine, down to my dick which was still hard.

“You can do that later. Now rest.” I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

I walked out of the room, straight into the shower.

Just as the hot water started running down my body, I felt her press her body against mine from behind.

“Miss me already?” I turned around and smirked.

“I told you…” She kneeled. “We have to take care of you.”

She didn’t have a chance to say anything else as she grabbed my dick and put it in her mouth. Damn, she was good at sucking dick. It was unbelievable. I was the one with weak knees now. She was moving her mouth so fast as if she wanted to get revenge for before.

I wanted to watch her doing it. I wanted to see how she chokes on my dick but I couldn’t. It felt too good and I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling back and closing them. I buried my fingers into her wet hair and helped her move.

I loved how she enjoyed doing it. The way she was moaning and looking up at me. I can’t take it anymore. I let out a loud groan as I came, the water washing my load off her face.

“Now, I can rest.” She smirked and I helped her get up.

I turned her around, wrapped my arms around her and placed a kiss on her shoulder.

#harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world

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stickyyfingr · 3 years ago

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you will see your beauty every moment that you rise ; chapter 1

“I know, logically, that what I’m doing is wrong, but...I can never seem to stop myself,” Fugo is hardly coherent. Bucciarati understands anyway. Bucciarati understands not only his words, but also the meaning behind them. It’s familiar, and although he may not be able to get into the nooks and crannies of Fugo's head, he can empathize. The sensation of doing wrong under the guise that it’s the only right you have left fills him for a moment. Bucciarati reminds himself that he is no longer twelve.

“I know,” is all he provides.

or, fugo comes out of a fit of rage.

read under the cut or on ao3!

shadows all around you as you surface from the dark, emerging from the gentle grip of night’s unfolding arms The first thing that Fugo registers is that there’s something warm and wet against his knuckles.

As the sound of ringing and rushing blood in his ears subsides, he pieces together the lengths of what just occurred. He’s seated on a closed toilet lid and Bucciarati is kneeling down before him, wiping at his bloodied hands with a damp paper towel. His heart pounds in his chest, and he can still feel adrenaline coursing through his veins. Slowly, grey seeps back into the picture of black and white mentality. Light comes back to his vision as he emerges from darkness. The grip of volatile impulse lets him go free. The second thing Fugo registers is guilt.

He feels the stinging of tears threatening to fall. At first, he fights them, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s already made a mess of things. Bucciarati must feel so burdened by him. Narancia never deserves to be on the receiving end of his breakdowns, not to mention how uncomfortable the rest of the group must feel watching them go down. His cheeks burn with shame, shame in himself, his emotions and his inability to control them.

Hearing shifting, Fugo opens his eyes to see Bucciarati standing to toss out the dirty paper towel. He hears the sink run for a moment, the faucet squeal as it’s turned back off. Bucciarati returns with a cold paper towel to pat gently at his cheeks, cooling him off. It’s a gesture meant to calm him down, Fugo knows; Bucciarati’s done this before, many times. He leans into the touch, sucking in shaky breaths.

“It’s alright to cry, you know.”

The tears welling up in his eyes spill over, staining his cheeks like rain streaming down window panes. Bucciarati pulls his hand away to toss out the cool paper towel, too, and Fugo prepares to hear a door open, to hear Bucciarati slip out to give him time to figure this out alone. Perhaps that's best, he figures. It's best he's left alone. He had warned Bucciarati, years ago, that all he would do is hurt him; it would make sense for him to slip away. For him to be disgusted. Instead, the other man returns, sinking down to sit on the tile. For a long moment, he’s quiet. There’s no sound in the room save for Fugo’s sniffling and the hitching of his breath, though his emotions leak out of him and cling to the air, only making it harder to breathe.

“Narancia is okay,” Bucciarati reassures, folding his hands in his lap. “Mista has him, so you know he’ll be alright. You didn’t do much damage.” “That’s great,” Fugo already sounds congested, but beyond that, he sounds weak. Fragile. Like he’s moments away from shattering. Or like he’s trying hard not to step on his own scattered pieces and feel the pain again. “I’m sorry.”

“I am not who you should be apologizing to,” Bucciarati curses himself for the sternness in his voice and for the way it makes Fugo flinch. “But I’m sure you’re forgiven. You’re always forgiven here, Pannacotta.”

The use of his first name sends Fugo burying his face in his hands with a wail. Carefully, as if also avoiding cutting himself on one of his broken pieces, Bucciarati rests a hand on Fugo’s knee. When there’s no protest, Bucciarati runs his thumb along his skin comfortingly, though this turns to an absent gesture as the older of the two becomes lost in thought himself. He sucks in a breath as if he’s considering saying something, but lets it go in an initial decision against it. Another breath, and this time, he speaks.

“I can imagine,” there’s a pause as Bucciarati bites his lip for a moment before continuing, “I... know that it’s scary. The feeling of knowing you may have hurt someone. Coming alive again from a mechanical...defense to find that there’s blood on your hands.”

“I don’t mean to hurt him, or anyone,” Fugo gasps for breath. His hands are wet with tears, but it’s preferable to blood. Especially blood that isn’t his own. “I have no control. One moment it’s alright, and the next, everything is just… red. ”

Bucciarati hums his understanding, nudging him to continue. It’s only a nudge, though, not a shove. He's never been forceful, and this doesn't go unappreciated. Fugo gathers his words, gathers his breath, gathers his pieces off the ground. They fall down again with a cry as he curls into himself more. The guilt consumes him. He feels as though he is drowning.

“I know,” is all he provides.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I am not.”

“Should I be mad at myself?”

“That’s…” Bucciarati thinks on it for a moment. “No, I don’t believe you should be. But that’s your decision. Only you have the power to decide what you need to... adjust within yourself.”

Fugo silently slips off the lid of the toilet onto the floor. He doesn’t have to say what he wants for Bucciarati to know; rather, he knows that Bucciarati’s instinct will end up being what he hopes to get out of the action. The hand on his knee moves to his shoulder, and after a moment of deliberation, pulls him closer. Fugo turns to hide his face in Bucciarati’s chest. The other doesn’t seem to mind.

“Being angry at yourself is never helpful.” This close, Fugo can feel Bucciarati’s voice rumble in his chest. It’s comforting. Even if there are only four years between them, Bucciarati has never failed to give off the sensation of a parent’s love. “I was angry with myself for a long time when I was young. Being in the Mafia has never been...a dream of mine. I wanted to be a fisherman, just like my father.” There’s a wistful quality to his voice. Nostalgic, but deeper. Fugo realizes just how little he truly knows about the man who saved his life. He’s almost shocked to hear that someone so composed and admirable is able to understand what it’s like to harbor such self-hatred.

“In any case,” Bucciarati’s other arm comes up to pull Fugo into a proper hug, “I will support you in any way I can. I promised you that when you joined my team. And you are now a part of my famiglia.” He squeezes Fugo just a bit, just enough to feel safe. Just enough for Fugo to feel like, for a moment, all of his shattered pieces are back together again.

#jjba #jjba fanfiction #jojo's bizarre adventure fanfiction #hurt/comfort #pannacotta fugo #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #jojo's bizarre adventure #bucci gang #songfic

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imaginesmai · 5 years ago

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Peter Parker - Baby on board

This is quite long, so sorry in advance. I’ve worked really hard on this, so I hope you like it!

Plot: An unplanned pregnancy is what you least expect at sixteen, but when it comes knocking on your door you can’t pretend you’re not home

A six steps guide of how to deal with an unplanned, teenage pregnancy

Warnings: teenage pregnancy

1. Self-denial and isolation.

They came together, hand in hand with the pink stick that you considered to have ruined your life in that moment. In the bathroom of that mall, where you had managed to sneak from your parents and with Peter, they knocked on the door and decided to stay. An unplanned pregnancy was something bad itself, and it felt as if to you it was even worse; just sixteen, in highschool and with conservative parents that didn’t let Peter spend the night in your house.

“Hey” Peter wrapped his shaky, pale fingers around your wrist, making you look away from the pregnancy test. He wasn’t much better; while you were letting the moment catch up with you, he already had tears on his eyes. “Sometimes – sometimes they’re wrong”

“It’s the third” you croaked out, pointing with your chin to the nasty bin where two positive test were buried.

“Yeah, but it can be, uh… something about you?”

“Like being pregnant?” you snapped at him.

“No! I mean, like – I – hormones?”

Peter was the last person to blame in that situation, but you felt like smashing his head against the bathroom door. The September warm wind was seeping through the small window, making sweat ran down your neck. You felt all clammy and sweaty, as if a bath would solve every problem you had. Probably, only a trip to the past and a few smacks to your past-self was the only solution.

Your phone beeped once more, and Peter was faster than you that time. He gripped the stick that was resting on your backpack and stared at it; with the dim light of the stingy cubicle, you knew the answer was the same.

It had been just one time, and you weren’t even sure that the condom broke before he took it out. You had convinced yourself that it was like that and you hadn’t bought the pill for the next day, sure that it had been just one time. And now, you were in a fake date with Peter to buy some pregnancy test to confirm what your period had screamed at you the past week.

“They can be still wrong” Peter whispered. He was sitting on the ground, forgetting about how dirty it was when the first test came back positive. “Maybe you’re ovulating, or – t-there ar-re some… some…”

“Just shut up” your voice broke and someone squeezed his throat between their fingers. “Shut up”

You got up from the toilet seat and took your backpack abruptly from the ground. The door hit the other side of the bathroom and an old lady who was washing her hands jumped surprised. You didn’t apologize or looked at her, just kept your eyes on the ground while the tears filled them. Peter fell to the ground trying to get up and gathering the two last tests in his hands at the same time, and the old lady emitted a low protest.

Hurried steps followed you through the mall, where no one bothered to pay attention to two distressed teenagers. Peter called your name a few times, until you reached the mechanic stairs and a group of people were in between. You kept walking, faster than what the stairs moved, and by the time you had left the mall, Peter was just ending the stairs.

With the two positive pregnancy tests still on his hand.

2. Anger and sadness

This step came from none of you; and if it did, you couldn’t have known since you spent the next three weeks locked in your room with your phone off. Peter came and went, even May stopped once or twice. But with the excuse of having a bad fight, your parents didn’t let them in – because they hadn’t really liked Peter from the start, a boy who was too normal and common for them. Your friends called, and whatever excuse Peter had told them seemed to work for a while. Still, the school year was starting and you had to go back at some point.

The anger came one morning, still new to throwing up and feeling as if someone else was controlling your body. Your father wasn’t home, it was your mother who heard you and helped you. And she knew, from the moment she held your hair up to the talk with your father that night. He hadn’t been always the loving dad you had wanted, but that night he was the farthest from it.

He gripped your arm until it bruised and forced you into the car, from where he took you to a private doctor. The man confirmed what you already knew – that yes, you were pregnant. It was then when you realized that you were pregnant, with a baby and that you were just sixteen.

“I can abort it” you said to your father for the thousand time, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Please, dad. Please – I will get rid of it, no one –“

“Will ever know? That’s what you want to say?” he screamed back. “We already know, Y/N! And that’s enough!”

He didn’t mention who was the father, because he already knew. Peter Parker, the boy who came one night to have dinner and stuttered too much for his liking. That lived with his aunt in a shitty apartment in Queens, and that was the most common teenager he had seen. As if he could already see the baby, your father glared with all the disgust he could muster to your stomach.

It didn’t matter if you promised to go to the clinic that same night again, and got rid of the baby as soon as possible. For all he cared, there was no going back.

“Take the bags!” he screamed once more, and for more purpose kicked the last of them out of the house. “And I swear, if I ever see you or that boy around, I will –“

“Mom” you cried out for your mother, who was behind him; with the same stone cold look from that morning. “Mom, please. Don’t kick me out. I don’t have anywhere to go, I don’t –“

The door closing was the only answer they gave you, and you fell to your knees in sobs and breathless cries. The night closed around you when, just a second after, someone inside turned off the lights of the porch, leaving you completely alone in the dark street. If your neighbours had heard the argument, they didn’t care about it. And it didn’t surprise you, because you had known all your life what type of friends your parents had.

You sat on the short stairs of your house, all your thoughts going to the barely there baby. You hated, screamed silently and cursed it before the birth, willing to walk yourself to the other side of the town and get rid of it. Thoughts about doing it yourself crossed your mind – you had heard from social media some ways to do so. You could spend the night somewhere, or just walking around, and the next day you could find something to do it. Your phone was still charged, and you checked the time.

When you did so, just as if your guardian anger was watching over you, the screen lighted up and Peter’s name appeared on the screen. More sobs broke through your body as you stared at the phone, and with shaky hands you unlocked it.

You bit your fist to avoid more sounds getting out, but Peter was silent. Too surprised about you finally picking up for the first time in three weeks, he realized he didn’t know what to do.

He had needed his own time to accept the news, and the biggest scolding from May when he told her. But from the moment you had told him between classes, he had known that you wouldn’t be alone.

“I didn’t think you would pick up” Peter said, voice quiet and soft. There was no hint of anger or disappointment for isolation yourself, as you have thought. “I was, uh… I stopped by a few times. Your dad threatened to call the police on me and May. I’m sorry”

“He’s an idiot” you whispered back.

You stared at the ground in front of you, where one of your bags had fallen open. Your cheerleader uniform was peeking through, another problem to add to the list. There were so many things an unplanned pregnancy meant that you couldn’t imagine even half of it.

Three weeks of isolation had only served to make things worse and, as you realized in that moment, to lose the only person who was willing to stay by your side.

“If you want, we could – maybe, meet or something in –“

“My parents kicked me out” you interrupted him, letting it sound clearly that you had been crying. “They found out and they kicked me out. And they don’t care if I get rid of it, because they said that the damage is already done”

You talked fast and barely breathing between facts. Peter already knew your parents and how they worked and thought, and it wasn’t probably a surprise. Why you hadn’t told them sooner they news, you didn’t know. The nagging thoughts about your previous wild decision came back, and you decided Peter not only had the right to know, but probably knew better.

Peter Parker, the sweetest boy with the biggest smile that dated the cheerleaders captain. You thought about how the first time he talked to you the neck of his shirt was wrinkled around his blue sweater, and how everything fell out of his backpack when you approached him in class.

Truly, there was only one person you wanted then.

“I was thinking about doing it myself, and by thinking I mean thinking really hard. Maybe – some YouTube video, or… something” you kept talking. “But I’m not sure if it’s safe, because on Twitter there was a trend where girls talked about mortal abortions.”

“I can be there in ten minutes” he stated when you finished. “Don’t hang up”

3. Acceptation.

Peter and you made a list of things that an unplanned pregnancy meant, listening to May who tried to help you as much as she could. The poor woman was barely making it to the end of the month for two; and now, she had another person in her small apartment. But she hadn’t listened to any of your complains, just hugged you tight and you that that, when something doesn’t have a solution, what you have to do is roll with it the best you can.

She declined every protest that went through your mouth, and threatened to put spicy on your food if you didn’t told her your needs. Besides acting like a mother of two teenagers and taking care of an unplanned pregnancy, she tried to give advice too.

That was why she suggested to make a list of the things you knew and those that you would need to face. You sat on Peter’s bed, your new favourite place, and took your blue notebook, opening it from the back. The boy was sitting beside you, as close as possible. While he had lost weight in the last month because of the stress, his grip on your tight was strong.

“Where do we start?” you asked him, looking at the empty whiteness.

“There is a baby in you” Peter said, and you emitted a small chuckle. “What? We have to write things that we know about it, and that’s a good way to start!”

You looked at Peter briefly, and found him smiling. Without you knowing or noticing, it was the first time he did so since your period didn’t appear. The constant guilt and feeling like everything was his fault was present more than ever, and he could count with the fingers of one hand how much sleep he got in a week.

Still, with a small smile on his lips, Peter took the pen and the notebook and wrote down ‘there is a baby in there’. His calligraphy was shaky and, because he wrote too quickly, you could barely understand it. The words flew before you could stop them.

“The baby’s drawings are going to be better than your handwriting” you said, and Peter looked at you.

There was an unsaid question in the air that you still had to ask. May and Peter had picked you up from your house as Peter had promised, and none of you had said nothing about the abortion. You knew Peter was giving you time to think about it, and that he was respect whatever you did. His eyes shone with a special light, as if he was hoping that to see those first drawings.

Before you could say anything about it, Peter turned back to the notebook and put the final dot.

“I’ve got the second one” you took back the pen and wrote with neat handwriting the second fact.

The baby is going to be born

That time, you did notice how Peter did something he hadn’t done for a long time. Reaching forwards the small space in between, he pressed his lips against the corner of yours and emitted some low, happy noise, already writing number three on the notebook.

4. Working through it.

Something that had always differentiated you from Peter, and probably the reason why you didn’t date sooner, was because of your ‘high-school status’. While you were the cheerleaders captain, Peter spent his extra time in the Academic team and in the robotics lab. It was never a problem for your relationship, but the truth was you were used to hanging out with the popular group. And now, the cheerleaders team turned their faces when you walked past them and the football team had kicked you out.

No one said anything in the halls and the teachers didn’t show any particular interest on you. But they all talked about it and gossiped about the head of the cheerleaders, the nerd of the robotics club and the pregnancy.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to” Peter talked with his head in the locker, while you waited besides him. “We can meet other time, or not at all. They will understand, and –“

“It’s your house, Pete” you repeated once more. “Just because I’m there now it doesn’t mean you can’t make your life”

“Yeah, but I want you to feel as comfortable as possible” he handed you a book and kept going. “We can still have the house for us tonight”

“Don’t get me wrong, but that’s the last thing I want, considering how it ended last time”

You were past the point of avoiding the topic, and Peter got his head out of the locker with a big, radiant smile. Not knowing why, you took a step towards him and locked your lips briefly. He looked at you surprised and blushed, as if the small bulge wasn’t enough prove that you were dating.

“Come on, we’re going late”

The rest of the day passed by Peter’s side, still not willing to leave him for just a moment. Peter insisted that you weren’t clingy at all, but you were sure he would agree whatever you told him

At gym class, you sat on the benches and watched some of the boys play basketball and football. It was the last period of the day, and the teacher hadn’t appeared; so they had told you to stay in the gym until the bell rang. There were group of teenagers sitting on the benches behind you, all of them laughing and talking happily. Peter had gone change and you had thought it was a little too much following him there too, so you were waiting sitting alone.

In moments like that, when you didn’t feel Peter beside you, were when you felt the weight of the pregnancy. You missed your parents and your friends, or just having someone to talk who wasn’t obligated by it because of carrying his baby – which wasn’t the truth, but it still stung.

“You look like a baby duckling waiting for his mommy”

You turned around and saw the brown haired girl Peter had told you about. There was a shy looking boy behind her, who you recognized as Ned. Ned and MJ, Peter’s best friends who were coming tonight for a movie marathon. You smiled at her, not knowing what to say. And trying not to show it was the first time someone outside that apartment talked to you.

“If you give him too much attention, he’ll start believing he has power over you” MJ said as she sat a few inches away from you. You forced yourself not to shift farther. “Women can sustain themselves and don’t depend on men”

“I don’t… depend on him” you said, not as strongly as you wanted. “And Peter doesn’t, uh, do that”

“Emotional attachments are dispensable”

“But –“

“What she’s trying to say” Ned appeared on your other side, and suddenly you weren’t alone anymore. “Is ‘hi, we’re Peter’s friends’”

“No, I didn’t want to say that”

“And we wanted to talk to you before tonight” Ned ignored MJ. “Without Peter, which is quite hard since he won’t leave you alone.”

Maybe Peter was as clingy to you as you were to him, but you didn’t mind. There was a second of silence where you really thought the conversation was heading southwards. You remembered the shouts of the cheerleaders when you told them and the whispers and not so discreet questions in the bathroom the first days, until May screamed at the principal and he talked some sense into the students.

MJ was the one who broke the silence, not batting an eye or even looking at you; and you got the impression, that she did that with everyone. Feeling normal and not ‘special’ was something you missed.

“Ned here wanted to ask you if you were really okay with tonight, because he has been stressing over it the whole day” said boy emitted an offended noise before she continued. “And I just wanted to say that we can leave them to it and go commit some vandalism before you’re too ahead of your pregnancy. To become friends”

Something about the way she said all of that without looking bothered, and how Ned fell into a stuttering of offended talking and apologise made you break into a loud laugh. That was how Peter found you when he rushed out of the locker room with his shirt half put, laughing with Ned while MJ smiled at him.

5. Hope

Peter always accompanied you to the doctor’s visits, and once he had brought Ned with him because – you still didn’t know. It didn’t matter if you were young and immature, Peter picked up the responsibility from the first moment.

That was why it was so hard for him say no to one of your visits. The Decathlon team had their annual competition in Albany, and they wanted to spend the weekend there. Peter had said no, but May and you had pushed him literally into the bus and thrown his bag to Ned. He had called you before and after the doctor’s visit, and you had barely contained your excitement. Because what you knew was better to say in person, not by a videocall with Ned and MJ interrupting.

The moment came when you were laying on your new bed, Peter’s old one, and Peter on his own, the top bunker. He was reading some book for the modern literature and you were waiting for him to come down, just to see his face. He jumped down to take a glass of water when you threw at him what you had been hiding behind you.

“Ow!” Peter cried out the package hit him. You had grown used to see him with wide clothes and comfy slippers, and to see how he always put his guard down around the apartment. “What was that for?!”

“Just open it, dummy”

“What is it?” Peter took the fallen box and frowned. “It doesn’t weight”

“Which shows that you’re a drama queen” you smiled at him, your arms around your mid swollen belly. “Come one, open it”

“It’s not my birthday” he tried again, ripping the envelope slowly. “Is this an apologize gift for breaking the toaster?”

“We both know you broke it”

“No proofs, just doubts and you being the last one to use it”

“Yet you’re the one who tries to put weird food in there”

“I don’t –“

He stopped talking the moment the envelop fell to the ground, and a small t-shirt appeared. It was a cheesy way to tell him that you were having a baby girl, considering that you still didn’t know if you would give her up for adoption. But when talking about the baby, she would no longer be an ‘it’ but a ‘she’.

The shirt had written ‘daddy’s girl’ in red letters, and it was so small that it fit in Peter’s palm. You felt as if it was your own moment of being a teenager, telling him like one of those videos you were addicted to. Although it them, the parents usually were happy or surprised. Not like Peter was, just looking at the t-shirt.

“I thought about, naming her Mary” you added. “After your mother”

He could be quite slow when he wanted to, so you waited until he finally looked up. There were tears on his eyes and cheeks, some of them falling already to the ground and accompanied with a big smile. He didn’t even made it to the bed; just knelt in between and hugged you from the ground, cries filling the room.

6. Happiness.

All the steps mixed together when the last one came. It was the middle of April when Mary Parker decided it was time to see the world. You were taking your classes from home, and Ned, MJ and Peter were an extension to your body. The pair of friends were always at the apartment, and May didn’t have the heart to tell them to go when they all looked so excited.

The day of her birth all of you were having dinner in the small kitchen. May had made what she said was the best spicy food to make someone give birth, and Ned and MJ were spending the night because it was Friday. Peter was seated on your right, talking to his aunt when you felt the first weird pain; and from then, it went all downhill.

“Just breath”

“I know how to breath”

“Well – breath slower! You’re hyperventilating!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“I’m not –“

Peter was cut off with a loud scream from you, as you closed your eyes tightly and tried to do what the doctor said. You were indeed breathing too quickly, and Peter was panicking too much. Even May wasn’t much help, being a nurse and all.

The delivery room was as plain as possible, with just a small bed, a big window that had the curtains drawn and a chair for the plus one to sit on. There hadn’t been a chance, because as soon as you had put a foot on the hospital Mary decided that she was as impatient as her daddy, and wanted out now. You had thought you would have to give birth in a taxi, since May had left her car on the hospital.

Another scream tore the room and Peter shouted at May that no, he wasn’t panicking and that he was breathing fine. There were too many shouting and stress, and you felt like passing out. Films didn’t do justice to real life delivering.

“It’s almost over, sweety” one nurse told you, brushing her hand through your forehead. “You’re being really brave, just a few more push”

“I don’t feel brave” you broke down in sobs suddenly, making Peter’s eyes go wide. “I’m just sixteen, I don’t want to be brave. I want – I want – I don’t know!”

“Hey” Peter was suddenly all you could see. He was paler than usually, sweat running down his face. “You don’t have to be brave alone”

Your problems didn’t solve with those words, neither did the pain stop. But once, May had told you that there is a feeling of power that only comes with the family. You took strength out of something you didn’t know you have and pushed once more in the mildly lighted up room. The doctor screamed something at one of the nurses, and movement came to life. Everyone was doing something or talking, no one was still.

Just you, Peter by your side and the small, high-pitched scream that changed the tune of the room. May appeared too, with a blanket that couldn’t hold anything because was too small. She left it on your lap, and you thought she was just making sure it was too cold. Before you could say anything, the blanket moved, and bright blue-baby eyes were staring at you.

There were just an inch long, not even there in a face that was as big as your fist tight closed. Her whole body wasn’t much bigger that your head, and when she opened her mouth, it seemed she was swallowing herself.

“Mary” Peter called out of her. The baby didn’t reacted, just kept screaming and announcing her presence into the world. “Mary Y/L/N”

Not able to tear your eyes away from her face, you almost didn’t notice the change of the name. Still, you muttered a soft ‘what’ that was enough for Peter to explain.

“MJ is totally against the baby receiving the dad’s first name, because it’s the woman who gives birth to them” Peter said, time stopped. “And I couldn’t agree more, she has to have the last name of the bravest person of the world”

The first time you learned about the pregnancy, you couldn’t talk because someone squeezed your throat so hard that made you dizzy. And now, it was free and you could breathe again. There were no second thoughts about what you would do with Mary Y/L/N Parker as you held her close that night.

Eventually, everyone left and the baby was cleaned. The doctor let you hold her while the sun rose, Peter laying too in the small bed and Mary in between. She had fallen asleep somewhere in between, and she didn’t get to see her first sunrise. Neither did you or Peter, who didn’t tear your eyes away.

You may have been sixteen, might have thought about getting rid of the baby and your life had been turned upside down. But you hadn’t been more sure of anything before, that you loved that baby and Peter Benjamin Parker to death.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

@delicately-important-trash

@lexxxistrips

@smilexcaptainx

@aikaterrina

@zalladane

@gypsystuf (since you didn’t answer me, I just put you on the general taglist. Let me know if you want to change!)

@nikkixostan

@galaxystern08

@justifymyfeelings

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cajunquandary · 4 years ago

Text

Hands that Heal

Link: (coming soon to Ao3)

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little push the right direction...

Created for: @negans-lucille-tblr SPN Secret Santa Fic Exchange

Rating: 18+ only

Pairing: Dean x OFC (Jay)

Warnings: Jealous Dean, fluff, smut, smidge of angst, medical IV (briefly), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap the willy)

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: Happy Holidays, @jay-and-dean! I was so ecstatic to have received your name and hope that my ramblings make you smile a little.

It’s a funny thing, the way everyone goes on about the eyes being windows to the soul. Of course, they can be very telling, and if you ever catch yourself getting lost in those of the Winchesters, how could you believe anything else? Or perhaps you are more like Jay.

Jay has been with the Winchesters for quite some time. She’s been lost in those eyes. And she’s been found. The pure green folds of Dean’s have scooped her up, swaddled her, saved her. So have Sam’s hazel, but not in quite the same way. Not that either brother knows. Only Cas.

Cas has seen the way her deep brown eyes linger just a little longer than they ought to, can feel the ache in her chest. There are times when Jay meets the angel’s gaze just afterwards but looks away just as quickly. They both know, but they won’t talk about it. And that’s okay.

But for Jay, she can see beyond the green. Beyond the freckles and blushing pensive lips, the curve of his jaw, the gently rolling hills of his chest and arms. She traces the majestic waves and ripples beneath his warm skin with only her eyes and her heart. They come to rest just past strong wrists and fall like weighted feathers upon Dean’s weathered hands.

You see, that’s where the soul really reveals itself closest to visible flesh. Each scar and busted knuckle tell a story. The pattern of freckles and tan lines speak of years in the sun. The calluses of his palm and fingertips disclose a rough life, a tough job. They are toned with skill, accurate in all things. They can field strip a gun and put it back together in the blink of an eye, tie complicated knots with dexterity, bait a hook and cast a line without hesitation, and even mold and create custom parts for Baby as they fix her up.

And yet, the skin between those marks is soft, no longer as elastic as it once was, but still full of life and love. The very muscles that hold together the bone and sinew have the capacity to both take life, and give it. Jay has watched them rip apart monsters and gently caress and hold victims within the same minute.

Such an extreme duality shouldn’t be so neatly wrapped up in one man, but it was. It was both Dean’s light and his curse. Jay shivered as she hesitated just a moment too long on the fantasy of those thick muscled, deadly, yet oh-so-gentle hands, imagining how they might tickle as they might glide over her smooth skin. Of course, Dean notices.

“There’s no way you’re cold, Jay. It’s a hundred friggin degrees outside!”

Right. Jay had to remind herself that they were on a case. No distractions. “Yeah, I-I’m good. Just got a chill because, ya know, we’re next to human refrigerators.” She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth to help ground herself back to reality.

It really was hotter than a witch’s tit out there and not much cooler inside the mortuary. Dean continued to read silently from some forms on the coroner’s clipboard before licking his thumb and index finger to turn the page. Heat washed over Jay, spreading like drunken honey from her scalp all the way to her toes. She tried to steady her breathing, remain in persona as a stoney FBI agent, but the hot red of her cheeks was giving her away.

She tore her gaze away to inspect the body. Not that anything she made mental note of would stick at this point. Dean cleared his throat and pulled the clipboard closer to his face before setting his thumbnail between his teeth the way he always did when he was laser-focused on something. She only caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, but it was the final bit to break her.

With a huff, Jay exclaimed a little too loudly, “There’s nothing here for us, Dean. I’ll be in the car.” Her legs carried her much too quickly out the swinging doors and up the stairs.

“Um, okay?” Dean grumbled to himself before setting the paperwork back in its place and following Jay. “What the hell got into her?”

Jay was glad to leave Texas. Mid-July heat drained her, along with every plant and tree scorched under the unrelenting and searing white sun. The world around them was bleached and bathed in the almost-eerie too-bright light. Well, everything except what existed in the shadows of the Impala. The sparse countryside rolled away mile by mile as time ticked by with every song on Dean’s favorite cassette.

The air conditioning just couldn’t keep up, so Dean rolled down the windows. Jay tied up her locks in frustration, leaving a messy excuse for a bun resting on top of her head. The leather seats did nothing to help as she sweat through her shorts until she was nearly sliding off the seat.

“How much longer until Oklahoma?” She sighed. For the third time that hour.

Dean shot a glare in her direction before settling his attention back on the highway. The heat was getting to him too, and even with sunglasses on, spots were gathering in his vision and impairing him with every piercing flash of the sun off of the windshields of passing cars. “Jay, I swear if you ask me ‘are we there yet’ one more time, I’m going to friggin pull over.”

“Ugh, FINE.” Jay wished to be nearly anywhere but here. Resignation set in and she slumped in the seat and let her bare feet hang out the window, crossing her arms.

Dean turned the music louder, trying to drown out his own misery rather than her. He began to belt out slightly off-key to “Dazed and Confused.”

Jay cracked a half smile but hid it from Dean.

He rapped out the solos on the steering wheel, his hands keeping perfect time as they danced upon the taught leather.

Maybe pulling over wouldn’t be a half-bad idea, Jay thought.

She closed her eyes, allowing the steady rumble of the engine to echo through her as hot wind whipped through the cab. She cracked them open again just long enough to witness the stretch of tight skin over Dean’s knuckles, the way the washed out wilderness blurred past behind them and accentuated the tan he’d gained from driving.

The image was burned into her mind. To help pass the time, Jay granted herself permission to linger on it, explore it. Despite the heat outside, a new, different heat grew steadily in her core, stirring somewhere deep between her heart and soul.

Not too long after, the Impala slowed and turned into a run down gas station--the first one in an hour. As Dean filled up, Jay took the opportunity to find shelter in some air conditioning and hopefully an ice-cold drink. Inside the store was no better. In fact, it was worse. The air was still and thick with humidity from the cooler, which buzzed and whirred as if it were possessed.

“Sorry, Miss. Cooler is out. Hot drinks only,” a disheveled and sweat-drenched employee slouched over the register.

“Thanks… got any pie?” Jay decided that if they had to drink hot water, they may as well have some comfort food.

“Whatever we got is over there.” The clerk motioned with his eyes, no strength to even lift a finger.

Jay stalked back to the car empty handed and more pissed than ever. If the summer heat was something tangible, she could just strangle it. Kick it, punch it. Anything to fight it.

Dean finished up just in time, careful not to touch the scorching black paint and chrome on the car. “What, you go pee and come out with nothing? I’m dyin’ here!”

Jay snapped. “NO DRINKS. NO PIE. NOTHING. K?!”

Dean was taken aback by the outburst. It was then he noticed the sunken look and dark circles under her eyes and the red sheen over her face and neck. She was getting pale and wasn’t sweating anymore.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” His brows knit as he drove slowly through the town, hoping for a decent motel to rest at for a while. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait but a few blocks before The Moonlight Motel came into view.

Pay by the hour may not be the greatest, but at least it was cheap and would likely be empty this time of day.

Jay was losing touch and the following events were a blur. The next thing she truly could grasp and remember was lying mostly clothed in a cold shower. Dean sat facing her atop the closed toilet seat, a worried face perched upon clasped hands. Still a bit out of it, Jay relaxed into the cool water as it slowly washed the fever down the drain. The world slipped away, replaced by a gentle, dark nothing.

When Jay stirred, the room was too dim to still be day and shadows were held at bay by only a small lamp on the far side of the dingy room. She couldn’t remember how she got there at first, but as she woke, things gradually came back to her.

Dean had practically carried her to the room. He’d carefully set her in the bathtub and removed her belt, overshirt and boots. He’d turned on the cold water and at first, she’d protested, but slipped in and out of consciousness. He’d retrieved ice from the machine down the hall and poured it over her as he constantly monitored her vitals and temperature.

He’d withdrawn her, a soaking wet dead weight, stripped away the sopping clothes while careful not to look where it would make her uncomfortable, and buttoned her up in the softest flannel he had.

Jay glanced down at her right hand, as it felt stiff and sore. A needle was taped there, no longer hooked to the empty bag of saline, taped down and left in place just in case. Jay wiggled slightly when she realized that her other arm had gone quite numb beneath her and--Dean?

His soft snores disrupted as she shifted, equally mortified and elated to be nestled into the crook of his arm. Dean woke and rubbed his eyes, as if pretending he’d been awake the whole time. His voice was low and gravely from sleep.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He looked down at her, so small in his arms, furious with himself for not taking better care of her.

“M-good,” Jay choked out, completely entranced by being so close to the hunter. Close enough for their breath to mix and his cologne to shroud her senses. Close enough to see the flecks of golds and blues and dark greens in the folds of his irises. Her breath caught and she shivered. Again. Jay mentally kicked herself for that tell. “Thank you… Sorry I was being a brat.”

“No. No, this is on me. You were sun-sick. I’m sorry. I should’ve--”

Jay put a finger to his parted lips with only the intention to stop Dean from blaming himself (like always,) but the touch sent electric pulses through her fingertips and set fire to every nerve in her body. They were impossibly soft and warm.

Dean caught her hand tenderly in his before she could pull away and planted a slow kiss on her knuckles. He watched anxiously as her pupils dilated and her breathing became more shallow. Pulling their hands out of the way, Dean leaned forward just slightly and planted a firm, reassuring kiss to her forehead.

Jay’s mind was a mess. This was more than familial. Were they crossing a line? Or maybe it just meant that Dean was comfortable with her, and concerned. But even as the thoughts swirled, her lips had a mind of their own. As Dean traced his nose down hers until their heads were pressed together, Jay angled upward to meet him.

When their lips locked, there was no more question. Jay loved Dean, and he knew and he loved her back. It was soft and sweet, with their eyes shut tight, just exploring and tasting and sucking gently.

The remainder of the trip back to the bunker was spent with Dean humming, a stupid smile plastered on his face, and Jay resting across the front seat, her head in his lap. Dean stroked her soft, brown hair adoringly. The night was much cooler and comfortably dark with only dim, scattered stars to blanket the hunters.

Everything was different after the motel. The kiss.

Almost six months had gone by and for the most part, they’d been wonderful. Jay spent more time in Dean’s room than her own, and the hunts had been good so far, like old times.

Until this one.

Jay, Sam, and Dean were doing a bit of recon at a local bar to dig up some answers, or at the very least, a lead. Jay had dressed to stun, as usual. (After all, men’s lips tended to be a bit more loose around a pretty girl.)

Dean was hovering. Everytime Jay got close to some useful information, Dean would scare off the burly locals with a death glare.

Until this one.

This man was built like a tank. He towered even over Sam by a few inches and dwarfed Jay in comparison. Sam eyed her uncomfortably from a few tables over, but he always got like that when someone was bigger than him. Dean didn’t adjust his tactics at all, and when the big guy had enough of Dean dancing around him and bumping his chair with an insincere, “sorry, man,” the guy stood up and puffed out his chest. Dean moved to both protect Jay and get in a prime fighting position, but Jay yanked him away by the collar of his jacket faster than he could complain.

She didn’t stop until they were completely outside the bar, then shoved him into the soot-covered brick wall. Dean opened his mouth to spout something pigheaded, but stopped himself as he felt the chill of her glare more than the chill of the snow flurries swirling around them.

“Would you just trust me to do my job? What is your problem?”

“I do! I just--” Dean waved in a flustered motion, unable to find the words. All he knew was that when she got a little too... comfortable... with anyone, he saw red.

Still, Jay seemed to understand. She reached up and held his face firmly between her palms, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“I’m yours. I know that you worry, what you fear. I’m not going to leave you. Ever. No one can ever take me from you, either, because I’ll haunt your ass and you know it.”

Dean’s bottom lips quivered just barely, and he quickly bit it back. “Don’t you even joke about that,” his voice broke.

“De- I’m right here, okay?”

He nodded and leaned into her until his face was buried in her neck. He squeezed his arms around her, never wanting to know what it would feel like to have to let go.

A muffled “let’s go back to the motel” emanated from somewhere within Jay’s scarf and she nodded in response.

Dean grasped her hand as they walked the short distance back to the rented room. Jay stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide and pointing over to the edge of the woods. A startled “Dean!” escaped her, and Dean dropped her hand and withdrew his gun, ready for a fight. His plumes of hot breath on the air slowed to nearly nothing as he steadied himself and visually searched the area.

What had she seen?

Before he could ask, something hard, round and icey struck the back of his shoulder with decent force. He spun on his heels and lowered his weapon to find Jay wide-mouthed and laughing, another snowball forming in her hands.

“Son of a bitch! You want to play dirty, huh?” Dean howled. He holstered the pistol and raced to close the distance between them. With a squeal and a grunt, the two ended up in a heap in the wet, mushy snow.

Jay managed to end up on top of him and leaned in for a deep kiss. She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue graced across hers. When at last they came up for air, Dean was moving his arms and legs haphazardly.

“A slush-angel?” Jay giggled at the sorry creation.

“What, my art not good enough for you?” Dean retorted while wearing a shit-eating grin. “And no, actually, it’s a Yeti.”

The wet chill began to sink into their bones, so they hurried onward. Dean fiddled with the key card but the lock gave him fits.

“C’mon, Dean! I’m freezing to death!”

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Hold your horses.”

At last, the door swung open and Jay rushed inside, leaving Dean to close and lock the door behind them. She’d already started stripping off the wet outer layers when Dean approached. With every step bringing him closer, his heartbeat rose and he wrestled out of his own layers.

Jay moved to lift off her shirt, but Dean covered her hands with his, intertwining their fingers. He stood against her, and in one swift move, wrapped both of her wrists in a single firm grip behind her, and with the other, pressed an open palm against her belly.

Jay gasped, her knees going weak with what she knew was coming next. Despite the weather, his touch was toasty. Coarse skin slid over her soft flesh, causing a friction that left Jay needing more. Heat flushed her cheeks and pooled deep in her stomach. Dean melted with every shuttered breath of hers as he stroked up and down beneath the fabric of her shirt, making sure to linger over the more sensitive areas as she twitched and bit down on her lip.

Dean massaged her breasts with skilled fingers for a few moments, but a sensual twist of her nipple sent Jay reeling backwards, supported only by Dean’s other arm. With her head tilted back, Dean took the opportunity to kiss and suck and nip zig-zagged lines over the most delicate parts of her neck and along her collarbone.

Jay squirmed and panted with lust-blown pupils and a cry just on the tip of her tongue. Dean’s grasp only steadied her against him more until he found himself grinding into her, faint moans already filling the air. The growing bulge in his pants drove Jay mad. She wanted to be covered by him, skin on skin, needed him inside her.

“D-Dean please, please…” Jay whimpered and attempted to wiggle out of his hold once more to no avail.

“Please, what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.” Dean breathed against her ear, just above a whisper. He sucked and nibbled in the hollow behind it.

A shudder wracked Jay, but this time, she didn’t mind the tell. She had him. He was hers. But right then, she needed more and she knew he was holding back. “Unnghh, please… need you, now,” she managed.

“Okay, Baby,” Dean crashed his lips to hers and shifted until Jay was suspended in the air and straddling him as he walked them towards the bed. He dropped her playfully and they scrambled to see who could lose their remaining clothes the fastest.

In a fray of scattered clothing, Dean climbed on top of her, comfortably crushing Jay into the lumpy mattress. He let his full weight rest upon her.

“Stop it,” she giggled as his scruff tickled her cheek.

“Why don’t you make me?” Dean grinned between planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

Before he could react, Jay had him rolled onto the floor. She straddled him and tried to concentrate despite his hard cock resting perfectly between her hot, dripping folds. Her hair created a curtain around their faces, blocking out everything but that moment and the sensations it was riddled with. Dean’s eyes closed and mouth opened like a fish out of water. His breaths were shallow and shaky. Jay fought the urge to lift her hips just so, knowing that if she did, and she came back down upon him, his throbbing dick would line up just perfectly… and they’d end up on the floor for the remainder of their romp.

She rose to her feet, grasping his hand and pulling him up with her. Dean’s eyes were full of question, longing. His cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch. He was melting at every touch and could do nothing about it but wait for her.

Jay led him over to the chair and pushed him into it. He nearly tripped on his way down. That stupid smile she loved so much spread across his face again as he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her onto him. She let out a yelp as the broad head of his large cock spread her entrance, dripping with precum, and buried itself deep inside until her walls stretched almost uncomfortably. The shock of his size was something she’d never get used to. Each time was like the first, the same butterflies swarming in her stomach, the same jolts of pure lust burning through her veins.

Dean gasped and held her close to him, trembling hands roaming her back and squeezing her ass. Jay carded her hands through his hair and pulled just slightly at the nape of his neck as he whined in approval. Those laments made her head swim and her limbs weak. Drunk on Dean, she adjusted her position until he was sunk deep into the spot that was just right, then began to move back and forth, slow and steady. Dean’s breaths stuttered and his head fell back, leaving his neck open for Jay to take into her mouth.

“Fuck--Baby you feel s-so good,” he stammered between increasing moans and grunts. She could see in his eyes that he was losing control.

Jay cried out as he began to fight her movements with his own, pounding up in all the right spots. She arched her back as the coil wound tighter… higher… tighter… higher... until she shattered in his arms, his name and curses spilling from her gaping mouth.

He held her through it and chased his own orgasm, sucking a mark onto her chest before he spilled into her. Everyone would know she was his, and only his. Her walls clenched in waves and he pulsed within them, his delicious sounds filling her ears as she came down.

Jay crashed her lips into his, and he returned with fervor until they were both completely breathless. Wrapped there in Dean’s arms, Jay was home.

No, nothing was ever the same after that first kiss. And that was okay. It was amazing.

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @taste-of-dean @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie @thinkinghardhardlythinking

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

@waywardbaby* the smut was heavily inspired by The Scene. Tagged as promised lol

Tag List now open!

#spnsecretsantaficexchange #hands that heal #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x ofc #dean x jay #fluff #smut #supernatural

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nicklightbearer · 4 years ago

Text

whatever here is the fic

we happy few, nick lightbearer is once again hunted by foggy jack but this time he fights back. just..... not.... well.

this is a tickling fanfic fair warning <3

“Nick.. Nick!”

Rolling over, Nick Lightbearer grumbled and pulled the sheets over his head.

“Virgiiiiiiiiillll.. Five more minutes…” “In five minutes you’ll be dead, idiot! Up, up!”

Nick blinked a few times before feeling a small something land on his stomach- with a high-pitched screech, he sat bolt upright, scrambling to throw the blankets off. There was an oof! from the floor where they landed, and Nick shivered as he peered over the bed.

A rat. There had been a rat- wait- Virgil?

“.. What? What! You’re dead! I- I already avenged you- what do you want now??”

The rat huffed indignantly.

“Well, maybe I’m trying to keep your stupid arse alive, huh? He’s headed here already- so put some pants on, for god’s sake, and find a weapon!” “He? He who?” “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Who do you think??”

Who would- ah bollocks. Nick leapt to his feet, clutching at the wall for support as his head spun. God, even the reds and yellows were wearing on him..

“Foggy- Foggy Jack?? But I- I thought he-“ “Oh, come on. Put two and two together, Nicky.” “Ooh, if you weren’t dead, I’d right love to throttle you for the stupid vague clues…”

Virgil wheezed out a laugh that made Nick roll his eyes as he dug through the dresser.

“You may have blasted the bastard right hard, but it’d take more than a riff or two to kill a man. He’s more starstruck than ever, now.” “See, that wasn’t so hard! Straight answers, Virg, straight answers!”

The room wavered again and Nick cursed angrily as he toppled over trying to pull his slacks up.

“Who taught you how to quip back, huh?” “Could have something to do with the fuckin’.. Broken mood booth outside.”

Grumbling, he finally managed to stand up and pull his pants up proper, tugging on his jacket with only a moment’s hesitation. The blue one, yes, he’d rather wear dark colors if he’s hiding from a serial killer.

“Anyway- where is he now?”

There was a pause, and Nick looked up. The rat was gone.

“Virgil..? Dammit.”

A sudden jiggling of his door handle made him gasp, and he backed away before bolting towards the window.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckit in a bucket, ooh, I don’t have my-“

The front door splintered under a heavy blow, and Nick squealed another curse to himself before nearly leaping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

”Guitar!” “Mr. Lightbearer.. Do open up, please! I brought ahh.. Some whiskey! A gift from a fan!”

It almost gave him pause before he shook his head wildly.

“No, no. Focus, Nicky!”

He cast his gaze around the room in a panic. Empty pill bottles littered the sink and floor, and he shoved a few of them out of the way to rummage through the cabinet. Nothing.

Nothing but a plunger next to the toilet- though he considered it, the flimsy weight felt more useless than his own fists, and he discarded it quickly.

That left.. the tub.

Wait. The tub! He leaned over to whip the curtain back, and cringed slightly at the sight of the woman inside- thank god, she was clothed. But in her hand was his goal- just last night, he’d been on the.. Receiving end of…

Pulling it carefully from her grasp, he sighed in relief before jolting at the sound of the door splintering again. Fuck, fuck! He couldn’t let Jack see this poor bird- wait-

Checking her pulse, he sighed in relief. Okay, problem for later. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman woke up alone in his house. He quickly pushed out the door again, closing it and jiggling the lock just to make sure it wouldn’t open again- yep!

Then again, that left only himself and the eye that now peered through his former front door, which was largely splintered to bits. He backed up a little before dashing to his bedroom, both hoping and not hoping that Jack would follow.

“Ohh, Mr. Lightbearer… Nicky~!” The slip from formal to a deeper purring tone sent a shiver down the rockstar’s spine, and he clutched at his makeshift weapon nervously as he pushed his back against the door.

“Hey, lock it and get back, idiot! He just broke the other one down, what happens when he slams an axe through this one??” “Virgil- ooh, you’re right!”

He’s always right. Nick jumped back, casting his gaze around the room after clicking the lock shut. Not much to work with, really, but he could.. He could hide- er- well, the closet would be too obvious, right? Or would it be so obvious that he wouldn’t check?

“No, he knows you’re stupid, Nick. Fucksakes.” “Well, what- ooh!”

Pulling open the dresser drawers, he started throwing clothes on the floor next to the window. The rat perched on top of the dresser sighed as he watched, but Nick ignored him for the moment.

“And what, pray tell, is the plan here? D’you have a gun you never told me about? A machete? Hell, even a baseball bat-” “No- I’m fine for weapon, thanks. This is- well- you’ll see!”

Shouldn’t say it out loud, not with how the door groaned as a weight was thrown against it. Nick shuddered as he pushed the clothes haphazardly closer to the wall, then scooted behind the curtain. The pile on the floor was enough to hide his feet- and the curtains were against a black window, so no light would give him away…

It wasn’t perfect. But if the closet was checked first, he’d have the upper hand.

The door splintered after only a few more hits, and Nick held his breath. He could just barely see through the fabric, having his face so close- and seeing Jack again, albeit this time with a slightly more ruffled appearance, made his heart leap into his throat. Terror was enough to keep his fist gripping the weapon, and he watched with wide eyes as the killer stalked into the room, the red glimmer from his own eyes casting an eerie light over the room as a cloud of fog rolled in after him.

It was nothing if not dramatic, he mused, almost inspired by the sight if he hadn’t been fearing for his life.

Jack hummed to himself as he glanced around the room, the familiar tune to Cheer Up bringing a grimace to Nick’s face. Genuinely, the guy was still a fan- it felt bad to be holding a weapon towards any fan for any reason, but..

Seeing the glittering knife that Jack held whipped his perspective back instantly. Fuck, this guy was absolutely bonkers- though, granted, that only made him feel worse- he couldn’t afford to be wishy-washy about this!

As predicted, Jack didn’t even notice the curtains, instead peering under the bed before turning towards the closet.

“Nick, Nick, Nick… Really, I can’t believe you’d let yourself be cornered so easily. Really, I expected more resistance. No activated security system-”

Fuck! He’d forgotten to turn it on in his drunken stupor the night before!

“No bobbies to guard the house, and not a single manager in sight.. Oh, wait!”

A flash of anger nearly made him leap out right there- but no, he’d wait and bide his time.. For just the right moment…

As Jack grasped the handle on the closet, Nick tensed.

“I suppose you don’t have one of those, do you?”

He flung the doors wide with a taunting laugh that died slowly, his outstretched arms lowering with confusion.

“What..?”

Now!

Nick leapt from his hiding place, nearly tripping on all the clothes but somehow managing to stumble so that he was standing on the bed- not unlike someone hiding away from a mouse, except the mouse was a person and that person had a big knife with his name on it, possibly literally.

However, his unsure footing made him miss his target of ‘back of the skull, god, please let me just knock him out’ and instead slam the instrument across Jack’s back. The impact made him tense, and he squeezed the handle nervously-

Only for electricity to zip out of it, making his palms tingle as the killer gasped. Oh, fuck on a stick.

But.. Something was off. Rather than immediately whipping to stab him, Jack stumbled, slamming against the dresser and clutching at his suit.

“What- what in the blazes-”

Well, no time for hesitation! He swung again, this time holding the button down with purpose. Anything to catch this guy off guard, right? It was also far easier to tap repeatedly at his body rather than his head, and… It worked.

Somehow, it worked. Jack’s arms were glued to his sides and he shimmied away from the assault, expression shifting from a confused pout to a more.. Well, his cheeks puffed out and he cringed, but a smile still seemed to tug at his lips. This smile was different, though, and seemed far more genuine than the mask let on.

“Stop- hey, stop! What- waha- wait!”

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Foggy Jack. Serial killer, menace to society, his personal fuckin’ stalker….. Was ticklish.

Okay. Okay. Well, this information was definitely going to be put to use- let’s see- right the fuck now. Nick slid down from the bed, using the Tickler to bop Jack closer to it- an easy task, given that he nearly tripped himself right onto it. With a quick push.. Perfect!

Foggy Jack was now on his bed. Disheveled, covering his mouth to hold back giggles, and with an expression bordering on infatuation shining out from behind his hand.

For a minute, he was stunned, before remembering the knife. Glancing down, though- oh, he wasn’t holding it. He’d dropped it- there, on the floor.

Jeez, it was almost like he didn’t want to kill Nick.

….. Shelving that thought to dwell on later, Nick grinned with as much menace as he could muster.

“Well, well, well. Ya know, mister Foggy Jack, you’re not half so scary like this.”

Jack yelped as the Tickler was pushed squarely against the middle of his stomach, trying to grab it but letting go quickly as Nick tapped the button a few times. The sensations of light electricity dancing across his torso quickly gave rise to more giggles, ones that he could hardly hold back for all the delight he clearly felt.

“Really! Sheesh, if I’d known about this before, all this lot of stuff would have been so much easier.. Hey, arms up!”

Nick huffed, pushing the arms that seemed nearly glued to his sides before just wiggling a hand between sleeve and shirt. For practiced fingers like his, coaxing out more shocked laughter was easy- and with the Tickler now running up and down his stomach, Jack finally broke.

“Waihihihit! No- stop! St- ahaha! It tickles!” “Well, I sure fuckin’ hope it does, lovely… That’s the point.”

Though, to be honest, he wasn’t sure how to handle things from here. Sure, he could wear out Jack and- wait, perfect. He’d just tickle the man until he properly passed out, then run and find a bobby. Perfect!

Though, as he watched the man writhe beneath him, escalated to proper laughter as skilled fingers squeezed at his sides and the Tickler continued tormenting his stomach, he was a tad hesitant. The ticklish near-agony that made shrieks ring out was… Hm, fun!

As he listened to more of that adorably broken-up laughter, he wondered how addicting this sort of drug might be.

“PLEHEASE- DON’T- DON’T TICKLE ME- IHI CAN’T, I CAN’T TAKE IT! M- MAHAHA- NNNNICK!” “That’s Mr. Lightbearer to you, mister Foggy. Go on, ask me proper to quit, maybe I’ll think about it. Probably not.” “Mr. Light- eehee! Lightbeareheher! Please!” “Please what??” “Plehehease- dOHON’T! Stoooohohop tickling mehehe!” “Don’t stop tickling you? Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart!”

Though the petname didn’t go unnoticed by either of them, Nick chose to eliminate any chance of a response by ducking down- the sudden closeness of their faces made Jack go silent, breathless with both laughter and starstruck awe. Nick winked before ducking his face down and blowing a raspberry right against his neck, sliding the Tickler to press down against his torso again.

The response was immediate. Jack flailed wildly and cackled, beating at Nick’s back weakly as he choked out wordless pleas. Of course, none of them were heeded, and a few more raspberries were instead strategically placed on the man’s neck. In all his years, even knowing that most people were at least a little ticklish around the face (due to the masks, certainly), he’d never garnered a reaction quite this intense. Must be extra sensitive- therefore, weak, and the wheezes between laughs made Nick grin.

It was honestly.. Kinda cute. He was glad that his goal was to tickle the man to pieces, since otherwise he’d normally give a break by now.

As the struggling became weaker, and the laughs reached pitches that frequently dipped into silent snorts, Nick hummed to himself. Now would be a good a time as ever to drop a little.. Finale, let’s say. He pulled back for a moment, easily readjusting their positions- now, with Jack laying limply on the bed and only weakly with his arms linked around his waist, he climbed on after him properly. It wasn’t hard to sit above his prey, wiggling his fingers a little for extra effect- and relishing in the burst of giggles and flinch- before tapping his chin.

“Now, let’s see.. Something tells me you’re nearly tuckered out. But I’m not quite done, oh no.” “N.. No??”

Something about the way his voice was suddenly softer, even shy in a way- it made Nick’s stomach do a few flips.

“No! Of course not. You’ve been awful rude, banging my door down and threatening me. But I can put that behind us.”

Bending down again, he placed a hand on either side of Jack’s head, their faces nearly touching- once again, Jack held his breath, eyes wide.

“.. Close your eyes for me, Jacky.”

The speed at which his hesitation faded to nervousness, then to giddy anticipation.. It was adorable. Jack finally closed his eyes, then covered his face with a shuddering giggle.

From there, it was easy for Nick to unbutton his jacket- and even easier to bury his face against Jack’s stomach, nibbling through the shirt and earning a new set of squeals.

“No! No- ahaha- ooh, you-!” “Go on, give me a laugh! Just for me, Jacky! Ooh, those could be lyrics..”

He hummed a bit with the idea before returning to his previous actions- and it wasn’t long before the laughter died down, Jack barely writhing beneath him. Nick sat up eventually, finally giving it a rest as he watched the killer gasp a few times before he was silent.

… He leaned forward to check for a pulse. Yep. Hammering away, actually, but calming down.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to do. Sitting back on Jack’s legs, he gazed down, watching him sleep with a foggy confusion building in the back of his skull.

Sure, a bobby might.. Be able to help. But he was so tired. And Jack was warm- warmer than he expected, and…

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt. He did crawl over to the side of the bed to push the knife under the dresser, first, but.. Yes, a nap.

Popping a spare Joy he found under one of his shirts, he flopped onto the bed, resolving to take care of the matter later. It was probably fine.

#this one's for you #hackneyfashioninstitute #<3 #we ticklish few #lightbearer #foggy poggy

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

Text

It’s never too late to realise

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope you like it, I somehow think I could have made this better. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Characters: Gavin Reed, RK900 [Part2]

Gavin sighed and opened a new document. ‘Gavin.’ ‘Hmm?’ He looked up at the android sitting opposite of him. ‘Your appointment is in ten minutes, are you sure you want to start that report right now?’ ‘The phck is your problem surveying my goddamn terminal?’, Gavin called over before turning back to his screen and shrugging, adding a bit calmer: ‘Didn’t plan on going.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Hey, tin-can, I don’t want to talk to another phcking shrink about my life again, okay? And this week I can get away with it, pretending I didn’t know they already replaced the old one.’ ‘Oh, I’m sure it is terrible’, Nines prodded him. ‘My name is Gavin, I’m an asshole and I hate everyone, now give me the okay to look at dead people.’ ‘That’s not how this works!’, Gavin hissed back. ‘Oh, I’m sorry’, Nines chuckled. ‘My name is Gavin, I’m a socially inept asshole, who hates everyone, ask me your questions I will without doubt find witty comebacks to instead of actually working on my problems and then give me the okay to look at dead people.’ Gavin felt how his shoulders tensed, because phck this tin-can, seriously! As if a machine could understand- ‘Phck it, fine, I’ll go if only to get away from your useless ass.’

Gavin really didn’t want to go. For entirely different reasons than his plastic partner thought of, but honestly it was better he just thought Gavin was too stubborn to get help. No, Gavin knew he needed it, needed some sort of guidance to help him come to terms and ultimately get over his problems. But he also knew the last therapist hadn’t been of any help, so why try again? Maybe he just had to get himself together and press on. Maybe he really just imagined it and if he wouldn’t be this goddamn weak then he could- He sighed as he knocked at the office door at point twelve. ‘Come in!’ So, another try then.

He sat down opposite to the human – were they even human? – therapist. ‘Hello! You must be Detective Reed. My name is Elise Thorn. It’s a pleasure to meet you!’ Gavin took her hand and shook it, grimacing. ‘Let’s see how that changes in a week’s time’, he grumbled. ‘Let’s see how that’ll be then indeed’, she just answered, still smiling. ‘Miss Lisa really didn’t leave a lot of notes behind, so I guess we’ll have to start from scratch again. I’m sorry about that. Would you tell me a bit about yourself? What progress did you make with your previous therapist?’ Gavin laughed ugly. Progress? For real? ‘Well, as it likely states in my file, I have trouble working with androids and there is a severe case of anger issues. That’s about it.’ ‘Okay… Then let’s start with your trouble with androids. What would that be exactly?’

‘I’m afraid of androids.’ Heh, the last time he had said that, Miss Lisa had just laughed him in the face, telling him the revolution was over and that her kind didn’t plan on overthrowing humanity anymore. ‘That’s not what I’m afraid of.’ ‘Then what are you afraid of?’ ‘Their strength. The way they don’t show feelings.’ ‘You do know that’s pretty racist, right? You really shouldn’t think that way.’ Yeah, right. As if Gavin would make the same mistake a second time.

‘I can’t trust androids. My… My partner never did anything, and I should be having no doubts with him, but… yeah. I somehow always think he will turn on me and-‘ ‘And?’ The woman wasn’t smiling, but her face was still looking supportive, so Gavin continued: ‘I always expect androids to fake being friendly and civil and then turn on me when no one’s looking and hurt me.’ He looked up expecting what his previous therapist had said so many times to be repeated: ‘Man up. Hurt you? Why should they? And you’re not looking like a guy that couldn’t take up that fight. Seriously, that’s ridiculous.’ ‘Did you have any experiences with androids that would support that apprehension? Maybe during the revolution?’ Ah, there it was. Why are you like this? Is there a reason? That’s not a valid reason, come on. You just hate us, that’s it. ‘Not during it, before’, Gavin said. ‘I am Elijah Kamski’s half-brother. We grew up together. He started working on androids then and… and there was an accident in the lab. I ran away afterwards and applied at the police academy.’ ‘Do you want to share what happened with me?’ ‘Not really’, Gavin sighed. ‘I want to forget it, but I guess you won’t stop asking, right?’

‘Detective Reed, I am here to help’, she said, putting down the tablet she had written on until now. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want me to know. But the more I know the better I can try to help you.’ Huh. So not telling was an option? ‘You seem surprised.’ Gavin laughed. ‘Just saying your predecessor used to make this an interrogation.’ ‘Well, I heard as much’, she sighed and rested her head in her hands. ‘I was there with Eli, used to watch how he worked on androids while doing my own stuff. Just for the company, I guess. Or the sounds relaxed me, I don’t know. Well, one day I was playing something on my phone and only looked up as I heard my brother choking. The phcking thing was on top of him, nearly crushing his windpipe and I froze, I couldn’t do anything. In the end I beat it with a fire extinguisher until it broke and let go off my brother. I couldn’t spend another second with an android afterwards, I had an argument with Eli in the hospital, how he had to stop, but he couldn’t see my point, convinced it was his error only. Moved out then and kept away from androids. But now they are people and… Well, I have to work with them.’ ‘Are you afraid of androids?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Did you ever spoke with an android about that?’ Gavin let his shoulders fall. ‘Well, the last one was my therapist and he laughed me in the face.’

The woman in front of him cringed at that and quickly underlined something on her tablet messily. ‘Okay. Any other contact with androids that ended badly besides that accident and my predecessor that really has to have his license revoked?’ ‘No. I mean, Connor, the RK800 here punched me unconscious once, but that really was my fault. I don’t like him, but at least that reaction I can understand.’ Still, his new therapist noted it.

‘Okay, that’s something we can work on. You also said you had anger issues?’ ‘I’m easily riled up’, Gavin shrugged. ‘It’s just how I am.’ ‘What makes you think that?’ ‘Well, actually, everyone says that. Has to be some truth to it, hasn’t it?’ ‘What are they saying?’ ‘You sure this isn’t an interrogation?’, Gavin baited with her. ‘You are evading the question. Tell me or say you don’t want to talk about it.’ ‘I’m an asshole, I’m angry all the time, I hate everyone, these kind of things.’ ‘Do you?’ ‘What?’ ‘Do you hate everyone?’, she repeated for him. ‘A bit?’ Gavin had never really thought about it. ‘Okay. Then tell me, are there people you care about?’

Gavin thought about it for a while. ‘Yeah, Tina. She’s a colleague and a friend. My partner, although he is an android. Hell, even Connor and Hank. I guess everyone I know I care about at least a bit.’ ‘What about yourself?’ ‘What kind of question is that?’, Gavin asked. ‘Of course.’ ‘Then tell me, what do you do to take care of yourself? What are your hobbies, what do you like to do? When was the last time you had fun?’ ‘Hey, what kind of phcking feel-good shit is this?’, Gavin wanted to know, refusing to even think about the questions. ‘Would you rather not talk about it?’ ‘Yes! God, I don’t have the time for that!’ Gavin had stood up and was about to go, but the woman held up her hands. ‘That’s okay. We can concentrate on your android related problems first. I think that would be it for now. See you next week then!’ ‘Wait, that’s it?’, Gavin asked, turning back towards the desk. ‘Yeah. I mean unless you want to talk about something else.’ The woman had the audacity to look as innocent as humanly – androidly? – possible.

Gavin thought about the question and contemplated whether asking was worth it, finally deciding that he had nothing to lose: ‘Yeah, I’m curious, what’s your diagnostics?’ ‘I’m not sure yet, we need more than one session for that.’ Gavin snorted. ‘Keeping it mysterious, hmm?’ ‘Maybe.’

Nines had enjoyed working in peace for once. With Gavin gone to visit his therapist, he could finally concentrate on his cases. He didn’t have to bother with the human cursing at random things, shouting at his computer out of nowhere and running to the breakroom and the toilet all the time. He liked working with the man. He preferred it to working with others. But sometimes Gavin just was a pain in the ass with his constant competitive attitude, his stubborn determination to do all the work alone and his damn self-deprecating humour all the time… Maybe this new therapist was able to help the human better than the last one. Or maybe Gavin was just a lost cause, who knew. Nines was just happy about the short break, but all too quickly that time was over. He saw his partner walk towards their desks and was already bracing himself for having to listen to Gavin monologue about what an asshole the new woman was and how talking didn’t do shit and something along these lines. At the very least he would be in a shitty mood for the rest of the day or overly anxious.

It came as some sort of surprise to him, when Gavin just sat down and quietly started up his terminal again, apparently lost to thoughts. Nines furrowed his brows and conducted a quick, maybe not strictly legal search. ‘You have android related PTSD and there is a high chance you are suffering from depression?’ Nines just couldn’t believe it, that was his only explanation to why he had said that out loud. ‘What?!’, Gavin threw back. ‘The phck you get that from?’ ‘Your therapist’s notes… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked, but you seemed so different to your usual behaviour.’ ‘Yeah, well phck you, this one actually does her phcking job! Or at least she does a better job! Maybe I am, maybe she is wrong, but goddamn it feels good not to hear the same shit all day!’ Nines didn’t know how to answer, so he tried to resort to humour: ‘Was getting your ass handed to you by Connor really that bad?’ But instead of laughing, Gavin glared at him. ‘Okay, toaster, listen here, because I will say this once and then you can make fun of me all you want. I know I have problems; I know I’m not the nicest guy. But do you really think I’m a cry-baby? I saw my brother nearly getting murdered by one of you phcking things! That I can even look you in the eyes now and work with you is already a huge phcking thing! And I don’t think I’m depressed, but holy shit, getting told to man up and that all my problems are just there because I don’t function your way and that I’m just an asshole who will never change? Not helping! I need another phcking coffee!’

Nines blinked a few times, staring into the open air over Gavin’s chair. He didn’t know what to make of that new information and quietly opened a connection with Connor to share it. The RK800 too stopped working and stared ahead for a while, before they both turned to look at each other. We’ve made it worse, haven’t we?

[>next part]

#Detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #Gavin Reed gets therapy

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cravingmarvel · 5 years ago

Text

Sugar

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, stalking, just mob things

Summary: James Barnes had his eyes on you and he can’t stand things he can’t have.

A/N: lmao I don’t know what this is, don’t ask. We won’t talk about this. Just leave me BE.

Masterlist

Sugar

“Please, just give me any job, any! I’ll even clean toilets for god’s sake!”

I followed John around his office like I didn’t have any dignity left within me, but all he did was shake his head frantically. He hurried around his office collecting pieces of paper with me right on his feet. Working in John’s hardware store was the last thing I wanted to do but the options I have are running dangerously low. I was hoping that he would help me out since he’d known me since I was a child.

“I’m sorry Y/n, but I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

I had him trapped between me and his desk by now trying to get an answer out of him.

“Because he told me not to. He told me whatever You say to turn you down. For- for any job.” John said, the papers in his hands shaking. The poor man had fear written all over his face.

“Who?”

“James Barnes.”

I met my problem two months ago at my then still husband Mark’s opening celebration. He was finally opening his very own law firm, with many sponsors at his back supporting his career, one of them being James. I’ve been with Mark throughout his days in Law school, the dream of ‘Johnson Law Firm – Criminal Defence & Family Law’ set in his mind ever since he knew he wanted to become a lawyer.

Mark took my hand leading me through the room, he was introducing me to all kinds of people. Salesmen, real estate agents and dozens of entrepreneurs, all of whom he was sponsored by. This project of his was quite expensive and finding the right place and interior turned out to be difficult enough. To find the money to get it all was the cherry on top, so Mark turned to sponsors, giving them advertisements and recommending them to his clients if necessary.

“Love, this is James Barnes, the man who really made all of this possible.”

Mark took his hand away from my back stuffing it in his pocket. I looked at the man in front of me, his short hair styled back, curling slightly. The two men behind him politely nodding their heads. I took his outstretched hand in mine and smiled up at him.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes.”

Instead of shaking my hand, he turned it and kissed the back of my hand, looking into my eyes. “Oh, don’t be so formal, Darling. Just call me James.” He said while his white teeth shined bright at me. “This is Sam and Steve, my right-hand men, can’t get rid of them.”

My cheeks heated up a little, feeling slightly intimidated by the obviously rich man.

I didn’t know it then, but he seems to be the bad omen in my life.

Not long after that, Mark, the man I have been with for ten years, half of that married, divorced me. I couldn’t understand why. I didn’t take the fear in his eyes as an indication for who was behind it all. He didn’t give me enough reasons and the ones he gave me had holes in them so much so that they were almost non-existent.

I was forced to move out, an apartment outside Manhattan since that was all I could afford. I have to admit that most of the income we had was from Mark. I hadn’t lived alone since college, but the loneliness wasn’t the worst part, it was staying above the water with the money I made.

After just a few days of living in my new apartment, the worst that could happen, happened. Even the company I worked for turned their back on me, my boss, Kyle, apologizing profusely after handing me the envelope.

But it didn’t stop there, every guy I met after finding the courage to date again seemed to run away from me as soon as a second date was planned. I felt cursed, the universe had cursed me.

My life was falling to pieces.

So that’s how I ended up in John’s office, an old friend of mine. One who was refusing me a job because James Barnes told him so. My question wasn’t really why James told him so, it was rather why John listened to him.

I looked at John, realization kicking in as he mumbled his next apology, fear in his eyes once again as if I would hurt him.

“I- I have to go. Bye John, thank you.”

I knew where I needed to go and that’s where I went, storming into the lobby of Hydra & Co. right to the front desk. “Excuse me?” I said to the woman sitting in front of me, my hands clutching to the white wood. “I need to speak to Mr. Barnes immediately.”

She looked up at me, holding her other hand to the mic of her phone, her lips in a tight smile. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you up without an appointment.” She went right back to listening to the person on the other side of the line.

“Look-“ I lowered my eyes to the nametag on her blazer “Jenna, I need to speak to him right now ok?” I knew my face was bright red, my fingers clinging to the wood. “He is ruining my life and I need to speak to him!”

The poor woman started to panic, eyes growing bigger as I leaned forward, my tone and choice of words harsher than I wanted them to be. The person on the phone clearly overheard me as the woman explained to them that I was requesting to see Mr. Barnes.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

She mumbled something before hanging up the phone. “Please continue to the 46th floor.” Her smile matched her uncertain body language.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out, not really focussing on the blond woman sitting at yet another desk waiting for me to speak up, but I just went straight for the big doors. I stood there for a second, raising my hand, knocking three times. I heard a faint ‘come in’ and upon opening the door I saw James sitting behind his desk.

He looked up from his computer, smiling. “It’s so nice to see you again, y/n.”

I could hardly pull myself together. He so nonchalantly welcomed me into his office as if he didn’t have a clue on why I was here in the first place. The door shut behind me making me jump.

“Please tell me what’s going on, John told me you told him not give me a job. Just tell me why? With Mark gone, I can barely hold myself up.”

There was no point in holding back what I wanted to say. I felt a little embarrassed, but I needed to clear the air, to confirm that this man I hardly knew was the reason behind my failed attempts at getting a job.

“Oh yeah, Mark. Was easy getting him out of the picture.” James rose from his seat, slowly walking around the desk. “Look, ever since seeing you at that losers opening party, I just knew I had to fight for what want.”

I felt like a little child asking for her favourite toy back. James is intimidating, very. “What do you mean get Mark out of the picture?” I tilted my head.

“Well I told him that if he didn’t divorce you, I would pull back the funding’s for his Law firm.” His mouth curled up to a twisted smile.

“So, you threatened him?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a threat, let’s just call it a favour.”

“For whom?”

“For you!” James stepped closer to me. “He can’t ever give you what I can.”

I couldn’t back away, not now that he thinks he has control over my life. “You don’t love me! You just want what you can’t have!”

James stood in front of me, his breath hot on my forehead. His hand rested on my waist, squeezing it a little. He bent down, his lips grazing on my ear. “There’s nothing I can’t have, darling.”

I shoved him away with the strength I still had left. “You’re disgusting!”

James chuckled darkly as he pushed his hands in his pockets. I turned on my heels, pulling the door open without looking back. I could feel his smirk on the back of my neck, shivers running down my spine as I still felt his touch linger on my body, his breath on my ear and the soft, deep tone of his voice ringing in my head.

As I walked back to my apartment days after the “talk” I had with James, I saw the familiar car parked on the other side of the street. The two men leaning against the side of it were all too familiar too. Sam and Steve, that’s they’re names. I do recognize them from Mark’s opening party, but also because since then I see them linger around me once in a while.

I crossed the street, determined to stop this nonsense at once.

“Can you guys stop following me?” I said, crossing my arms on my chest as I stopped in front of them.

“Oh, we’re not following you. We’re protecting you.” Sam said, adjusting his sunglasses.

“From what?” I asked, my confusion making them smile.

“Well, someone trying to rob you.” Steve said.

“Hurt you.” Sam threw right back.

“Kill you.” Steve said looking at Sam.

“Why would anyone do that?”

“You’re the reason people are getting threatened left and right. The mob boss himself holding a gun in someone’s face really makes them take a step back and think about what their doing.” Steve explained.

“Urgh, and that’s my fault because?” I was confused and irritated. Why did I have to run into mobsters of all people.

This wasn’t anything like ‘Goodfellas’.

Even though having Sam and Steve on my back every day was a little irritating, I still felt a little bad. I know I shouldn’t, but I still did. I mean, their oh so busy boss is sitting behind a desk while his so-called right-hand men are outside my Apartment complex, waiting for me to do anything interesting.

So I thought the best thing to do to make all of our lives just a little more enjoyable and to also get both of the men on my side a little, I took two disposable cups, filled them with coffee and went to the car.

I looked through the driver’s seat window, Sam and Steve watching ‘The Little Mermaid’. As I knocked on the glass with my knuckle, both jumped closing the laptop.

Sam let his window down. “God you scared us.”

“Here.” I said while giggling, handing Sam the cups of coffee. “Just a little gift from me. Don’t tell your boss though.”

“Why?” Steve leaned over so I could properly see him. “Not the gift part, the boss part. Thanks!”

“Don’t want your boss to get the wrong idea.”

I knew this was a terrible idea. Not well thought out and executed within an hour. My mind was still trying to convince me to go back to my apartment. But something within me stood tall. I was called up to the woman and smiled at her.

“One ticket to Utah please.”

She typed something into the computer and proceeded to take a call while doing so. “And your name, miss?”

“Oh, Y/n y/l/n.” I looked around aimlessly waiting for her to hand me my plane ticket.

“I’m so sorry, but there aren’t any seats left.”

“What do you mean? What about first class?”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Does James Barnes have anything to do with this maybe?”

Her eyes grew big as I mentioned his name, she lowered the phone, looking at it and them back at me.

“Right.” I nodded my head, a little glad that this didn’t work out, I mean, what was I supposed to do in Utah?

Upon walking out, I was once again followed by Sam and Steve, the duo that can’t even seem to brush their teeth with separate toothbrushes.

“So, you’re not leaving?”

I dragged my suitcase behind me, huffing at Sam’s comment. It’s not like I just realized how stupid the idea was to fly to my hometown, but in the whim of a moment it did. Just for a small moment it seemed like my ticket out, but James seems to be a few steps ahead of me, his little minions right on my heels.

“No, I guess not, Sam.”

“C’mon, let us give you a ride back.” Sam stopped at the car holding the door open for me. I sat in the car with a grunt.

The car ride was plagued by silence… from me. Steve and Sam, the dynamic duo, chatted along as if nothing had happened.

“You know, Y/n, Buck isn’t that bad. He does come off as tough and scary at times but he kinda has to. As soon as he shows any weakness, people don’t take him seriously.”

“Cute.”

“Y/n… he wouldn’t do all this if he didn’t seriously like you. Deep down he’s a sweet guy, trust me.” Steve went on, but that didn’t faze me.

I started out of the window, watching the buildings pass as we approached my place.

After my attempt to flee the city, I felt a little embarrassed with myself. The poor plan I was sure made James laugh, it’s as if I could hear him laugh all the way somewhere from the outskirts of New York. I couldn’t stop myself from walking through the city asking for a job, but no one would offer me one. Some wouldn’t even let me into the building after hearing my name. New York has shut its doors.

I walked home, not missing the presence of Sam and Steve, S&S, the Bonny and Clyde of New York, my personal bodyguards around me. They were everywhere, almost knowing exactly where I was going. I was getting a little used to it.

Upon walking into the small entrance area of my apartment building, I emptied my mailbox. I knew that none of these were good news, those were very uncommon these days it seemed.

I kicked off my shoes, hung up my cardigan and went straight do the couch rubbing my feet. The regret of wearing heels swung around in my head, they make you look very professional but hurt your feet if you walk in them all day through the city.

I went lazily through the letters. Just bills, payments that were way too overdue and a letter from my landlord. That one caught my eye immediately as I haven’t had an issue with her since I moved in. She knew of my problem and welcomed me with open arms, but the letter proved otherwise.

I stumbled out of the door, down two floors, hitting a wall on my way for good measure. I knocked on her door, hearing footsteps on the other side.

“Jenna, you’re kicking me out?” I held the letter up to her face as soon as she opened the door.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I- “

“No! Tell me this isn’t the work of James Barnes.” My ears were ringing, tears prickling on the corners of my eyes. “Please.”

Jenna exhaled sharply. “He came by yesterday, threatened me, held a gun to my head, y/n- “

“Wow.” I breather out, leaning against the door frame.

“I can’t have you here, not when I have a baby to protect, I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand.” I removed myself from her door frame, smiling as best as I could. I didn’t need her to worry about me, herself and especially not her baby. The poor child doesn’t need to grow up without parents.

I walked up to my apartment. The only good thing was, that I didn’t have a lot to pack up. The things I do have were fairly light and I could ask Danny, John’s son, from the hardware store to help me move.

What was James thinking? He either loved me or wanted me to die in a ditch, I couldn’t decide. The anger bubbling within me made my blood boil. He couldn’t do this. If he really loved me like he claimed he does, then he wouldn’t have me struggling so much.

I pulled my heels back on my feet as I stumbled out of my apartment once again. I couldn’t get down the many flights of stairs without stripping and falling but I only hand one goal. The hatred I felt for James fuelled the fire in me.

I spotted Sam and Steve in the car and approached it with speed, looking left and right to avoid getting run over. I hastily slammed my palm on the window catching Sam’s attention. He rolled the window down.

“Bring me to him. James.” I held the bottom of the window with my palms, sweat collecting on my neck, my hairs sticking to it.

“He’s at home.” Sam responded as if I cared where he was.

“Well let’s go!” I climbed in the backseat and heard Sam swear under his breath.

We arrived at James’s house, or rather mansion. The white bricked mansion stood out amongst the greenery surrounding it. There were several armed men standing around the mansion, dressed in all black. As we pulled up to the front steps, right next to the rather large fountain, Sam and Steve, the dynamic duo, led me inside.

Marble on top of marble, not the cheaper kind. The one that’s so thick you couldn’t seem to break it if you tried. Sam told me exactly where to go and I didn’t waste any time, running up the stairs, turned the left corner and went straight to the end of the corridor. My feet stomping on the ground like I’m a child.

I stood in front of the heavy looking white doors. I raised my hand knocking three times. I didn’t give James any time to tell me to come in, pushing the door open. He seemed to be quite surprised as he stood up from his seat.

“How dare you?” I spoke, a little too quiet to my liking, the tears threatened to fall from my eyes and I just let them. At this point I didn’t care what he thought of me, I just needed to let go. “How dare you have me kicked out of my home? And on top of that threaten poor Jenna!”

He rounded the desk like he did when I showed up in his office. “Y/n, you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

“But I don’t want to!”

I looked over to the shelve, walking over to it. Looking back and forth to the small green vase sitting atop it, back to James and back to the vase. My brows furrowed together as I took it into my hand. I looked James in the eyes, raising my hand pointing it to the wall, swinging my arm, stopping right before the impact would’ve smashed it into pieces.

James looked rather unfazed, either he didn’t care about it or he knew I couldn’t do it. I let my shoulders fall, placing the vase back on the shelve. I held my face in my hands, letting the tears falling.

I heard him coming over, but I let him. He wrapped his arms around my figure, squeezing my body softly. “Shh, it’s going to be ok.”

I pulled away from him, pushing his arms away from me. “No, it’s not going to be ok, James. If you truly loved me as much as you say you do, then you wouldn’t do this, you would want me to be happy no matter what. You would do anything to ensure my happiness isn’t ruined by your needs.”

I took a few steps away from him. “This- “ I pointed my finger to him and back to me. “- Isn’t love.”

James exhaled, turned and walked to his desk, holding onto it with his hands. “Alright… I- you just go back to your apartment, let Sam and Steve drive you, I’ll sort everything else out. Ok?”

A small smiled formed on my lips, I had done it, I convinced him. “Thank you.”

“Just know that I do love you.”

I walked out of the room skipping along the marbled floor, down the steps and out of the mansion.

6 Months later:

On my way up to my apartment I grabbed my mail along the way. As I walked in, I took everything necessary off leaving me in a tank top and my panties. It was way too hot to wear anything else. Anyone who believes climate change isn’t real should come to New York right now.

As I always do, I checked the pile of letters for anything important, so far only advertisements and… an invitation. I ripped open the envelope to reveal the letter.

We happily invite you to the engagement party of

James Buchanan Barnes & Meghan Sofie Vermont

We hope to welcome you to our home to celebrate love and happiness.

Barnes & Vermont

I couldn’t help but laugh a little, he wants me to attend an engagement party?

Ever since the day I confronted him about his wrongdoings, things finally started to look up for me again. I got my job back and felt like the city of New York had welcomed me back. I could finally breathe again. I do have to say that I miss Sam and Steve being on my backs at all times, the Tyler Joseph and Josh Dunn, my own Tom and Jerry. I do miss them sometimes when I look out the window.

They did make me feel safe.

I pushed my blazer up my arms and checked my bag for any belongings I might’ve missed and walked out the door locking it for good measure. Outside, my car was already waiting for me, James really made sure to flaunt his money, having his guests picked up. The car ride was filled with nerves overflowing, I didn’t know how to feel going to that house again, but as I walked up the stairs into the lavish foyer, down into the living room and out to the garden, I was more concerned about my attire. I grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the waiters.

The guests who were scattered around the grass wearing heavy diamonds on their necks. I came across a woman wearing the most beautiful bracelet I’ve ever seen, and she told me it was made out of Iridium, the rarest naturally occurring element. I didn’t really know what to do with that information since it just looked like plain old silver to me.

As I spotted James, he was already looking at me. I waved at him and smiled, taking a step to walk toward him as I was stopped by a woman.

“And you must be Y/n, right?” She asked and I nodded in return. “Wow, James has told me a lot about you, I’m Meghan, his soon to be wife and not so far into the future Mrs. Barnes.” She stretched her hand out to me and I shook it, trying to hide the face I wanted to make.

“God you’re so beautiful, now I know why Bucky was chasing you around.” She grinned at me and I wanted to return the complement, but she didn’t let me. “I can’t believe you rejected him, wow, I mean, you could be me right now. You could have diamonds on you neck, hands and anywhere else you want them. The finest dresses, oh Buck gifted me this absolutely amazing Givenchy dress last week. To. Die. For.”

Meghan placed her hand on my shoulder and her grip didn’t say friendship. “And this house! You could be living here right now. But the best thing you’re missing… the man, I mean. Jamesie is so wonderful, so sweet and just ugh, the biggest heart.”

I looked at her my face falling, twisting into a rather annoyed expression. I just looked over to James, talking to some guy. His grey suit and pink tie doing wonders for him.

I snapped back to Meghan as she tightened the grip on my shoulder, my hand slightly tipping, the glass with it. If she loves her Givenchy dress so much, then why isn’t she paying closer attention to it. My glass tipped fully now, the golden liquid spilling down the front of her dress.

Meghan let out a high-pitched scream and I snapped back into reality, my eyes flicking up to James who looked at me. I turned, placed the glass on a nearby table and went up the stairs, back int the living room and into the foyer.

“Stop!”

I turned as I heard the woman, the tall blonde walking over to me.

“What were you thinking? Come with me. Now!” She grabbed my arm leading me down a corridor and through some double doors revealing the kitchen. She roughly made me sit on one of the chairs at the table, walking back and forth behind me.

I just lowered my head, feeling once again, like a child. I regretted it.

“Y/n, what’s gotten into you?” James entered the kitchen and I felt my cheeks hating up. He sat down next to me and turned his body to me. The woman mumbling something about the party being ruined. “Mom, please can you leave us alone?”

I sunk lower on my seat, not wanting to be seen at all by anyone. It was a mistake coming here after all.

“Y/n, darling, why did you do that?” He placed his hand over mine, circling his thumb on the back of my hand.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

James took his other hand softly holding my jaw, turning my face to him. “This isn’t you. I’ve seen you being angry, but you never did any harm to anyone or anything. Despite your anger you still don’t lose your manners and knock on people’s doors.”

I knew by anything he meant the vase I wanted to smash. But he was right, completely. “I’m sorry.” The tears swelled up in my eyes. “I didn’t know what came over me. Meghan just went on and on about all the things I could’ve had and everything I’m missing out on and I just… snapped.”

“But why are you so upset about it? You knew exactly what you would give up when you told me to leave you alone, why does it bother you now?”

That was indeed a good question, why did it bother me so much. Was it the things I was upset about or the person? “Maybe… I think… Sometimes you want what you can’t have.”

James smiled. “I know exactly what that feels like.”

I couldn’t help but smile back at him. He took his hand away from mine and snaked it around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. His warm breath on my lips sent shivers down my spine and as he inched closer, he moved his hand from my jaw to the back of my neck, tangling his fingers with my hair.

James closed the distance between us, moving his lips against mine. He pulled away slightly, just inches away from me, whispering against my lips. “The difference between you and me is, there’s nothing I can’t have, Sugar.”

Fin!

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