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librosamarillos · 2 years ago

Text

passed down like folk songs

chapter 19: in waves

Maegor Targaryen x OC

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Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

I'm back and alive! Sorry for the long hiatus babes, hope you enjoy <3

Grief came to Visenya in waves. Some days, she’d wake up from dreaming about fighting with Aegon, screaming and crying at him for abandoning her just when she finally felt some normalcy and happiness, because he ran to Rhaenys in the afterlife. Those days she’d have to keep herself beyond busy, her anger was like wildfire, unpredictable and explosive, everyone knew not to bother her. She couldn’t be alone those days, for she would then be forced to be alone with her thoughts, and that was a scary place to be. Other days, Visenya would wake up with the phantom feeling of Aegon’s arms around her, his breath on her neck and the warm feeling that everything was alright. Those days were the days when it was hardest to get out of bed.

Today was one of those days. She dragged herself out of the warm comfort of her bed, and got ready for the day. Sometimes Visenya didn’t feel like she was all there, like she was in her head about Aegon’s death, part of her wishing to wake up in his arms and realise it was just some nightmare. She had work to do today, and she was definitely not in the mood, but she could not trust Aenys with making such big decisions without her council.

Upon entering her solar, she was relieved to see that Rowan was there, having prepared everything for the meeting, and now, preparing a small breakfast for her to eat. Visenya smiled at the girl, and also the routine they had developed these days. She looked at the plate of food, some bread, cheese, jam, fruit, something light for her to eat. Visenya had lost her appetite quite a bit since Aegon’s death, and Rowan was gently urging her to eat. She appreciated the offer.

“Good morning, I see you have everything prepared.” Visenya smiled, accepting the plate and sitting down to eat. Rowan smiled as well, looking quite relaxed. The meeting was with her father after all. Duncan was a very wise ally to have, especially in the matters that were plaguing her. Perhaps she couldn’t admit it out loud, but Visenya needed her old friend. Duncan was always there to listen, and now, he completely understood her.

“All is ready, your grace. My father will arrive shortly.” Rowan’s voice was soft and calm, as she approached Visenya with a pitcher of water, pouring some in her cup. “Shall I get something else for you from the kitchens?” she asked.

“No, no. This is more than enough, Rowan, thank you.” Visenya smiled, glad for the cooling and refreshing sensation of the water. She studied the young woman in front of her. Rowan seemed to be far more at ease now that Maegor was back. She was never one to doubt Maegor, but of course, as a young woman who had never seen battle, it was only normal for her to worry. It was her childhood friend after all. Well, things between them seemed to be going back to normal. It would be a good thing for everyone involved.

Duncan arrived right on time, if not a bit early, as he always did. It was crazy that it had been two whole decades that she knew the man, and he had never changed. Always punctual, soft spoken and practical. And most importantly, he never lied or sugar coated things for Visenya. An admirable ally indeed. Rowan took her place next to Visenya, preparing all the notes she was asked to, and opening her notepad to write important things down. He must be so proud of her.

Visenya never would admit it, but she really envied the closeness that Rowan had with her father. It was as if the two were perfectly in tune. Aerion Targaryen was never that sweet or patient or interested in her. With time, he did grow to dote on Rhaenys, who acted more like the proper lady he expected her to be. It was a strange dynamic they had, where he didn’t treat her like a beloved daughter, but allowed her to train with the sword and fight, but still didn’t give her the respect he gave to Aegon as his son. She could never approach her father with her troubles or questions, not the way Rowan could with Duncan. Perhaps that was why she seemed to be so fond of Duncan, because he was the devoted father she wished she had, and she admired that.

“Good morning, your grace. I trust all is well?” he asked as he took his seat across from her, like he always did. Visenya set aside her place, wiping her mouth with a napkin, before taking a look at her notes.

“Good morning, Duncan, things are as well as they could be with the rebellion. Let us not waste any time, I have some things I’d like your opinion on.” she said with a small sigh. She had hoped things would be peaceful, but then again, when had her hopes ever come to be? “Harrenhal. I’ve convinced Aenys to send five hundred men to accompany my son, but I’m having some doubts. If this Red Harren managed to take and hold Harrenhal with only a few hundred men, perhaps we should send more.” her voice held a bit of doubt, something she never allowed anyone else to see or hear.

“You can call for Lord Tully to raise his banners, to send five hundred more men to join Prince Maegor. With Balerion, I highly doubt they’ll be needed at all, but we’re better safe than sorry. It’ll be a show of strength for the crown, to show anyone thinking to rebel that all great houses follow the King’s orders loyally and faithfully.” Duncan spoke. He had clearly given the topic much thought, thinking about all possible opportunities. Visenya gave a small smile.

“Yes, Balerion is a great advantage to have, but you know Maegor better than that. He wishes to fight the rebels himself, to show them that they have more than our dragons to fear.” she almost laughed, as if Maegor was still her little boy playing with the wooden swords she had made for him. It didn’t escape her that Rowan tensed up after hearing this. Of course she’d worry over him, she always did. “I have been in correspondence with Lord Tully, he will provide us with his soldiers, all we need is the King’s order…” she sighed.

“Do you doubt the King will give the order?” Duncan asked, but knew the answer. Duncan shared her worries about Aenys, she didn’t feel the need to hide or hold back her words.

“You know how he can be. His squeamishness, I’ll never understand, hells, I find myself wondering what he even inherited from Aegon. The more he hesitates, the worse these rebels will be. They can sense the weakness from miles away.” she said, her brows furrowing more with each word, before she pinched the bridge of her nose. “But it doesn't matter. If I cannot convince him, Maegor will. He’ll listen to his hand, I hope.”

Duncan nodded.

“Have you given any thought as to who will be granted Harrenhal afterward? House Qoherys has been wiped clean as of last week.” he explained. In truth, Visenya hadn’t given it much thought yet, since technically, it was the job of the King to think over such matters, but she knew better than to trust Aenys with this. He’d just do what appeased the majority of his court and council.

“I haven’t given it much thought, in truth. I’ve been thinking of House Towers, but I’m not sure. Did you have someone in mind? Ah- Which Houses are in that area again?” she turned her head to Rowan.

“There’s lots of smaller Houses, your grace. The most prominent ones are House Towers, Butterwell, Harroway and Darry.” Rowan explained, and Visenya nodded.

“Well then, we’ll see which of these lords proves himself worthy of the honour. We’ll pick the one who’s most useful to us.” Visenya concluded.

The meeting went over a few more technicalities, details and doubts, but the conclusion had been reached. Maegor would march to the Riverlands with five hundred men and meet up with the other five hundred Tully men, along with Balerion. Visenya was certain her son would prevail once more. She had no doubt about that. He would show the world the true blood of the dragon, what it truly means to be a King- unlike her pathetic excuse of a nephew. She’d still have to convince him to send word to lord Tully, hoping that he wouldn’t deny it for some imaginary fear.

She looked over Rowan’s neat notes, the calendar she had asked her to make for the day. She’d meet up with her nephew before lunch, and convince him this was the best course of action. She could also ask Maegor to join her in this, but it could appear that they were ganging up on him, which couldn’t end well, should Aenys finally decide to grow a spine.

Visenya turned her attention to Rowan, who was tidying up all the used dishes and cups to send to the kitchens, while also handing her a fresh goblet of water. Dutiful as always. They were now alone again in the room, as Duncan took his leave.

“He was very fond of that pin, you know?” Visenya said, taking a sip of water. Rowan seemed completely caught off guard and if Visenya were any crueller, she would have laughed.

“I- your grace- I only wished to-”

“Breathe, my girl. I’m not condemning you!” she couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Aenys noticed it and thought Ceryse was the one who made it. Maegor told him that I was the one who made it instead.” she laughed at the absurdity of the idea, that she’d ever participate in anything of the faith, but also in the fact that Aenys believed it. Rowan, however, looked incredibly guilty. Perhaps it was the reminder of Ceryse’s name. Visenya smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t dwell on any guilt. She doesn’t care for him, and neither does he care about her.” she explained what she knew was obvious to everyone.

“Still… it was…” Rowan trailed, lightly picking at her hands nervously.

“It was sweet.” Visenya concluded, patting her shoulder comfortingly.

Things would’ve been a whole lot easier if the two didn’t hold such strong feelings for each other, but Visenya had hopes that with Lord Tybolt’s interest, at the very least Rowan could move on. It would be easier on her heart. If her and Maegor’s plans were to succeed, if he indeed ascended the throne and Aenys gave up the crown, she didn’t know how far Maegor would go to keep her close. He could barely keep it together as a Prince, she didn’t wish to know how far he’d go as KIng. If he knew she had moved on and had a family of her own, he could also move on. All he needed was an heir with Ceryse and he could surround himself with all the whores in King’s Landing for all Visenya cared. An heir was necessary for their plans to work. An heir, a spare and it would be enough for Maegor’s claim to be secured.

To say that Maegor was gloating would be an understatement. He had managed to convince his brother of his mother’s plans for Harrenhal, and now he stood in front of her, basking in her praise. Visenya was difficult to please and he was fully enjoying every second of his mother’s affection.

“It wasn’t that hard to get him to write to Lord Tully. Even though he claims that brute force is not the way.” Maegor explained as he took a sip of wine. He’d be leaving in the morning to fly to Lord Tully, who had already been preparing his men weeks ago, from Visenya’s request. He was eager for battle and blood.

“Brute force is the only way to deal with rebels. It’s the only way these fools will learn. You’ll need to know when it’s wise to use diplomacy and when to rain fire on them. A King must know these things.” Visenya stated, as if it were the clearest thing in the world. They were alone in the solar, she didn’t feel the need to hide her truth. Maegor almost gave a faint smirk, enjoying every second of his gloating.

“A King…” Maegor trailed, as if enjoying the taste of the words in his mouth. King. What he had wanted to be since he was a boy. He had a lot to prove to make himself the obvious choice. He’d be lying if he didn’t smirk when he heard the whispers in court or in the city, saying that he was most fit for the role.

“Yes, Maegor. Everyone sees it, everyone knows. Even Aenys. He himself admitted it when he gave you Blackfyre and when he made you his hand. Every mess, he relies on you to fix because he cannot. You already have a lot of support, Harrenhal could be a turning point. You’ll be King in all but name, Aenys will have no choice but to admit it. By then giving up the crown will be appealing to him, when he fully realises he cannot do this. Now all you need to secure your claim is an heir.” his mother explained.

“I know, I’m trying.” Maegor frowned. She was right, as always, but he highly doubted he was the one at fault for his lack of heir. He had been visiting Ceryse’s room nightly, like a chore they both hated, for the sake of a child, with nothing to show for it. Perhaps it was all Ceryse’s fault. She was older than him, not by too much, but still older. She still had her moonblood, which meant she should’ve gotten pregnant by now. Gods, this was fucking frustrating. He was growing resentful, even though he knew it was unfair and he knew Ceryse and Rowan were right, but he couldn’t let go of this blame he wanted to throw her way.

“I know you are. All in due time. Now your focus should be Harrenhal. The rest will fall in line soon, I know it.” she said, patting his cheek, like she always did when he was a boy and she’d give him praise. He sighed and nodded.

He left his mother’s solar as the sun was nearing its set. He made his way for a “spontaneous” walk in the gardens, even though it was entirely purposeful, to catch a glimpse of his beloved. These times, she’d either be walking around with her father or with Ceryse and Lana, and sometimes, if he was truly lucky, she’d be alone, strolling the flowers and getting lost in thought. His violet eyes were scanning his surroundings, and he almost smirked as people got out of his way in fear.

He caught a glimpse of her auburn curls near a bench. He stood almost behind a pillar, just to admire her beauty as she looked on to the city in thought. He wanted to embrace her and reassure her of any worries she might've had, but he knew he couldn’t do such a thing.

His eyes went from soft and loving, to angry and suspicious when he saw that damn Lannister approaching her. Rowan seemed surprised to see him, knowing he were to begin his journey to the Riverlands in the morning. Maegor was going to make sure to give him the most taxing and difficult tasks. Maegor frowned as he heard the two exchange pleasantries, and even more so at how close Tybolt stood to Rowan.

“I’ll be leaving with the rest of the knights in the morning. You know, I’ll be more than eager to return to you, my lady.” Tybolt’s stupid voice was soft and smooth like silk, and Maegor heard her pause. Her innocent green eyes were wide in surprise and Maegor wanted to strangle him right there and then.

“I- Lord Tybolt- I do not know what to say…” she spoke, her voice startled and unsure. He heard her speak like that before, when his aunt Rhaenys was still alive, she had asked Rowan to accompany her in the city. Rowan’s voice was unsure and startled then, because he knew she didn’t want to do it, but was in a position where she couldn’t say no.

“Then do not say a thing, my lady. You do not have to. I am merely expressing my appreciation for your presence. I can only wish to be in your presence more when I return to you from battle.” Tybolt smiled an easy smile, placing a kiss on Rowan’s hand. It made Maegor’s blood boil. He wanted to rip off his arms for daring to stand so close to her- let alone press a kiss on her hand.

“I’m very flattered, my lord.” Rowan replied in a soft, quiet voice. She seemed flustered at the attention. She then wished him well in the upcoming battle and turned to leave, before she accidentally dropped the notepad she was carrying. Tybolt was quick to help her gather the fallen objects.

“Oh! My lady, let me help you!”

“Please, it’s really nothing, I-” Rowan quickly gathered most of her things, but Tybolt still knelt to help. She seemed panicked, and it made Maegor raise a brow. He was ready to step out of the shadows and scare him off, but Tybolt’s voice stopped him.

“My, my…what’s this?” Tybolt held up something that Maegor couldn’t quite make out. He squinted a bit, before he felt his heart pound in his chest. It was a pin. A pin just like the one Rowan had made for him before he left for the Vale. “I didn’t know you had your heart set on someone, a daring knight that has beaten me in the race for your affections? Who has defeated me, if I may ask?” Tybolt’s eyes were now staring right into Rowan’s, and she seemed like she was about to faint.

“I-... I made it for you, my lord…I was just unsure if it was proper to give it to you.” Rowan’s voice was shaky, in a way that someone who didn’t know her would assume she was being shy. But Maegor knew her. She was lying. She was always such a bad liar, her eyes always betraying her true emotions, but it seemed like Tybolt didn’t see right through her. No, the bastard was beaming.

“Lady Rowan, how happy you have made me! I shall cherish this forever, and I swear it that I shall return to you from this battle safe and sound, for your kind prayers shall keep me safe.” Tybolt grinned his stupid grin as he pressed another kiss on Rowan’s hand, one that lasted far too long for Maegor’s liking.

The scene was almost picturesque, the charming knight accepting the gift of protection from the beautiful lady, all in front of this sunset in the palace gardens. It made Maegor want to scream and rage, especially since he knew that the pin was meant for him and him alone. Tybolt at some point finally left the gardens, gloating and grinning, while Rowan stood there frozen. She eventually sighed, her face betraying complete defeat, when she finally began to make her way back to her room. As she walked toward Maegor, their eyes met.

His piercing gaze immediately softened as he looked at her, her eyes wide as she realised that he witnessed the whole interaction. Her eyes were now apologetic, as if she had anything to apologise for. Still, Maegor couldn’t help but feel frustrated with her. He knew it was completely misplaced, but he wanted so badly to argue with her about why she ever even considered to grace that blond fool with her presence, let alone hand him such an intimate and personal gift. One that he knew was meant for him. The love he had for her was turning animalistic and primal, as he wanted to kill that man off for even daring to look at her.

Maegor was still frowning as he gestured with his eyes to his mother’s solar, silently telling her to meet him there. Rowan followed suit, under the guise of her obligations to the dowager Queen. The room was empty, silent and tense. Rowan placed the notepad on its usual spot on the table, while her green eyes looked into his violet ones apologetically.

“Why?” Maegor was the first to break the silence. His voice was heavy, almost angry. “Why did you give it to him? Why did you tell him it was for him?” he asked, trying his hardest to not make it sound like it was an accusation, but failing, as Rowan read him like an open book. She furrowed her brows at this.

“I didn’t mean to- I didn’t know what to say! I couldn’t tell him the truth, and I couldn’t think of anyone else to say the name of- I felt like it would just make things more complicated. I couldn’t think of anything else.” Rowan explained, clearly pained by what just happened.

“So now this fool is walking around, thinking you just promised him your hand?” Maegor frowned even more if that were even possible. Rowan stood silent for a moment, looking down at the floor with shame. He hated this. He only wanted to scoop her in his arms and tell her he’d get rid of him, but he knew it wasn’t something he could do.

“I… I suppose…” she trailed. “I didn’t think he’d take it so eagerly, nor that he’d imply courtship-”

“He plans to court you?” his eyes widened at how calm she seemed to be. “And you’re alright with this?” he almost laughed, feeling the anger he tried to push away return in full force. Rowan seemed puzzled for a moment.

“I don’t know if he plans to- are you angry with me?” she asked, abandoning the notepad she had been fumbling with this whole time.

“I know it’s not your fault, but I cannot help but feel frustrated. If you had never entertained his foolish attempts, he’d be off annoying someone else. But now he’s gloating to everyone willing to listen, I am sure.” Maegor spat out, his hands finding the corner of the table to fumble with.

“Maegor, I never wanted him to find the pin! I felt awkward with how forward he was being, I didn’t mean to drop it, let alone for him to see it! I meant to give it to you! You know this!” she stepped closer to him, but still too far for Maegor’s liking. “Believe me, I am frustrated with myself too for not being more careful, for not coming up with a better lie- but I cannot sit here and pretend I did anything inappropriate.” she protested.

“You didn’t. Technically you didn’t. But you’re okay with that man courting you? You’d entertain the idea of being his wife? Of going off to Casterly Rock forever, away from me?” he argued back, his voice heavy but his eyes pleading.

“I don’t know!” she raised her voice, frustration clear in it. “I don’t know, Maegor! You know what I’ve always wished for, you know what I’ve always yearned for, but you also know that can never come to be. I can’t- I can’t stay here forever. I cannot bear to stand by and watch you have a family- I cannot bear it. I didn’t mean for him to find it, but I cannot deny that he’d make a good match one day. I- everything just happened way too fast, I couldn’t think.” her voice was shaking.

Maegor was so torn. He wanted to run to her, to hold her and kiss her and comfort her and take her away from this place and everyone that held them apart. But another part of him seethed in anger at hearing her admit that she was considering Tybolt as a worthy match. Just the thought made him want to take blackfyre and leave the Lannister boy in pieces, along with his pathetic house.

“I shall take my leave then. I have to prepare for battle tomorrow, I’d hate to interrupt your new dreams of becoming Lady Lannister.” he said through gritted teeth.

He heard Rowan protest as he left the solar, but he didn’t return, he couldn’t. He knew his anger was violent and ruthless, he wanted to shield her from it. He already regretted what he said, he knew if he turned back he might say something even worse. Rowan, his sweet girl, she didn’t deserve to be around him when he was like this. He was practically blowing steam through his nose as he stomped through the halls. He made his way to his wife’s room, and turned all this frustration into something that could at least bring him closer to his goals.

He didn’t look for her the next day. He couldn’t bear to look at her, feeling so ashamed at his own anger, he couldn’t face her. He’d crumble when he looked into her eyes, and he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Especially not when he had a battle to focus on. He still wore the previous pin she had made for him under his armour, refusing to let anyone see it this time.

This battle was far too important for him to not be focused. This battle could bring him even closer to the throne and crown. This battle could be life changing. He gripped the reigns of Balerion as he took off, his anger turning into a dangerous and calm focus. It was supposedly a dangerous man they were heading to fight, it would sure be a shame if Tybolt Lannister never returned. He smirked dangerously as he landed Balerion near the entrance of House Tully’s seat, before getting down to meet with the Lord of the house.

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#maegor targaryen #maegor targaryen x oc #maegor the cruel #visenya targaryen #i live yall

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sometimescherwrites · 2 months ago

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Ur Cute

Jimmy Darling x male!reader

word count: 1.4k

content: jimmy x male reader bc fuck you that’s why /silly, fluff, all the kisses for Jimmy, reader is dumb but he’s pretty, fluffy, make out session and suggestive towards the end, dumbass reader, reiterating dumbass reader bc he’s so stupid yall, mentions of period typical homophobia but it’s mostly gay fluff

@authorsofghosts funding your Jimmy addiction

day 13 of cher’s conversation hearts series!!

a/n: freeing him from the drafts, not proofread in the slightest

Jimmy’s a regular at your gas station. You see him often enough, pulling up on that motorbike of his and needing a fill up. The two of you would chat while you filled up the tank and checked the bike over, and you quickly started looking forward to when you’d next see him.

In retrospect, maybe gas station work hadn’t been the right fit for you. Every day you saw a variety of men. Some older and rough around the edges, others your age and easier on the eyes than a stack of dollars. And you talked with them all, bantering and charming them day after day. Some were assholes, of course. Didn’t make them less attractive.

And so really, as a hopeless romantic and queer man, it was no surprise that you fell harder and faster than hail in a spring storm for the devastatingly gorgeous Jimmy Darling.

Today is no different, though you half hadn’t expected to see him alone on Valentine’s Day, assuming he’d had some sort of plans, be they romantic (you hoped not) or friendly.

“Evening, Jimmy.” You greet with an easy smile.

“Evenin’, angel.” His own smile sends a feeling of warmth through your chest.

He’s so genuine, and combined with the nickname, you find yourself falling harder.

“You got a gal with ya?” You tease, though you are genuinely curious. And the question definitely isn’t a way to figure out how he swings, of course not.

“Nah,” He shakes his head, “I got a thing goin’. Just get my ma an’ the girls some flowers, work on my bike, maybe go for a ride, an’ then knock out.”

“That’s sweet, but all by yourself?” You tease, “What a tragedy.”

“Mhmm.” He flashes a charming grin, “Shame no one’s remedied it yet.”

“Shame in deed. Don’t get how, you look like you’d have gals linin’ up for you.”

He had not, in face, confirmed which way he swung like you’d hoped, and that was a tragedy. He was a pretty boy though, through and through.

Jimmy gives a nervous chuckle, wringing his gloved hands, “You think so?”

“You kiddin’ me?” You raise a brow, “You’re gorgeous.”

His cheeks flush pink and you fall harder.

“When do you get off?” He asks suddenly, catching you by surprise.

“An hour, why?”

“You should go do something. With me.” His cheeks flush deeper.

“Yeah?” There’s a tinge of hope to your voice, “You mean it?”

“Yeah!” He seems genuine about it, grin earnest, “Yeah! You gotta- I gotta tell you something, actually.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice him taking off his gloves. Though you’re more focused on the way his smiles has faded.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You ask, frowning suddenly, “Look, there’s no pressure. I know you asked but I won’t hold it against you if you don’t swing this way. I know sometimes shit just slips out- I won’t judge.”

“No, no, ‘s not that.” Jimmy says, wringing his hands, “I definitely- look I’m serious about taking you out. I am.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, “Then why’re you frownin’, handsome?”

He seems genuinely perplexed, reaching to dust off the handlebars of his motorcycle.

“You really… you’re somethin’, angel, aren’t you?”

After a couple more vague answers to your concerns over why your beau has stopped smiling, he gives a deep sigh and finally waves his hands in front of your face.

Oh. Oh, that’s what he’d been trying to show you.

“You’re with that cabinet of curiosities thing, aren’t you?” You realize, eyes lingering on his hands, “Yeah, I was meaning to go check that out, but work’s been hell lately. You guys sure brought a lot of folks through here, that’s for damn sure. So… why’d you get all sad an’ shit, pretty boy?”

Jimmy blinks. Then he blinks again. Then he blinks a third time for good measure. But a smile spreads across his face until he’s grinning, “So I was thinkin’ my trailer, right? Too cold for a picnic- unless you wanted a fire?”

You grin too, “Either one. Both, even. I don’t mind. Long as it’s with you- god that’s so cheesy.”

“Cheesy’s good. Perfect. I love cheesy.” Jimmy enthuses.

You’re both smiling like idiots standing over his bike.

“Hell are you two smiling over?” One of your coworkers asks, while Jimmy hastily pulls on his gloves.

“He’s got a date tonight.” You say with ease, “Was tellin’ me about how he was gonna treat her tonight. Real lover boy.”

“You’re a real sap.” Your coworker knocks you on the back of your head, though you’ve known the man long enough to know it was done fondly, “Get back to work though.” He turns to Jimmy, nodding once, “Good for you, Jim. About time you got a girl.”

“Yeah, I’m real lucky with my date.” Jimmy chuckles nervously.

Oh you’re going to kiss him so hard once you get him alone. It shouldn’t be possible for a human being to be so gorgeous.

“See ya, Robbie.” Jimmy adds as the man heads back inside.

“See ya, Jim. Let me know if pretty boy does your bike wrong.” Your coworker chuckles, knocking you on the back of the head again, “Good luck on your date, you two.”

Both of you freeze, and at the looks of panic on your face, Robbie laughs, “Relax, not gonna get on your cases about it. Not my business.”

The intense relief you feel is almost overwhelming, “Thanks Robbie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He knocks you on the head a final time, “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t. We’d all be in trouble if word got around.”

You mime zipping your lips, though you’re too elated to commit to the serious act. “See you in an hour, Jimmy.”

Jimmy grins before checking over his bike one last time and riding off, promising he’ll come pick you up.

By the time the end of your shift rolls around, you’re so antsy that Robbie is beyond done with you. Once Jimmy arrives, you waste no time in getting on the back of his bike.

Arms wrapped around his waist as he drives off, you’re distinctly aware of how good he smells. And how you definitely smell like gasoline and oil.

“Baby, baby, baby.” Jimmy grins at you, tugging you by the hand as you enter the fairground, “Don’t worry, nobody here gives a damn. We all got our vices.”

“I think you’re mine.” You chuckle, squeezing his hand as he leads you to his trailer, “You’re so handsome, y’know that? Been dyin’ to tell you since we met. Like… wow, I didn’t know it was possible for someone to look this good all the time.”

“Not all the time.” Jimmy blushes, “You should see me with a bed head.”

“Well if that’s an invitation…”

Jimmy makes a choked sound, eyes widening with his grin, “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.”

Once you’re in his trailer, you find yourself sliding off your jacket while he starts up the stove.

“There’s no heater.” He says, “Stove works just fine though. Not a huge space to heat, y’know?”

“Yeah.” You look around his trailer, “Damn, how long’s this been yours?”

“Since I was a kid.” He shrugs, looking almost defensive, “Why?”

“Just… that makes sense. Don’t know how you fit in this bed.” You hum, “‘s very you though. I like it.”

“Yeah?” He relaxes a bit, then chuckles, “Yeah, the bed is definitely… ‘s on the smaller side, yeah. I don’t mind though.”

“You should come over to mine one day.” You suggest before you can stop yourself, “I mean, if you wanted. ‘s only fair, right? You show me yours, I show you mine.”

“You mean it?”

“Why not?”

Idle conversation turns to kissing before you even realize it. Kissing Jimmy feels more natural than anything in the world- it’s easier than breathing.

Both of you are on his bed, Jimmy leaning back and propped up with one elbow as you kiss on him, the occasional bits of praise between open mouthed kisses.

“Could do this forever an’ never get tired of it.” You murmur.

He makes a soft groaning sound, leaning up to kiss you more at that.

After a few blissful moments longer, you hum, “What about our campfire?”

“Later. I’m busy.” He mutters, hands tugging at the collar of your shirt, pulling you down closer to him.

To be perfectly honest, you’re both busy until morning, and you can’t complain one bit.

#cher’s conversation hearts #conversation hearts series #ur cute jimmy darling fic #jimmy darling x reader #freed him from the drafts #finally #let him kiss boys your honor #jimmy darling x male!reader #jimmy darling x male reader #jimmy darling x you #jimmy darling x y/n #jimmy darling #american horror story #ahs #ahs freakshow #american horror story freakshow #jimmy darling fluff #jimmy darling suggestive #jimmy darling ily

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nerdy-simp-7120 · 4 years ago

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Yandere Jamil and Kalim x Reader Oneshot

inspired by this post

A huge thanks to @yanderebloodlust for allowing me to write this based on the post they made 💖

I made a small anime reference in the oneshot, let’s see who can spot it. Also, please let me know if I made a mistake or if something doesn’t make sense. Enjoy!

tw: dub-con, nsfw with Jamil and Kalim, oral (reader and Jamil receiving), hypnosis, unedited, too many doors were abused thrown open

MINORS DNI

You set the pen down before looking up and smiling at everyone in the room, which consisted of your parents, his family, and him. You never expected to get a wedding proposal- you rarely spent any time with anyone other than your two good friends, after all. Nonetheless, you were beyond excited and couldn’t wait for your special day to come. The papers had been signed, now all that was left was to wait for the special day to come. You were willing to be patient, though. Although the proposal was abrupt, you would ultimately only need to wait a month for the wedding to actually take place; your parents were a hurried folk and didn’t look like they could wait for the day to arrive either.

Your family and his walked to the entrance of your grand home, giving each other wholehearted goodbyes. Your fiancé grabbed your hand gently and placed a kiss upon it, wishing you a goodnight before going to join his parents in the carriage waiting outside. You waved as the carriage left dreamily. ‘What a wonderful man,’ you thought. Upon reentering your home, your parents smiled at you and congratulated you, saying how this union would bring great pride and joy to both families. You beamed at them before wishing them a goodnight and heading to your room.

You never expected for the news to spread around so quickly. You were roaming the gardens peacefully after breakfast when you heard two sets of footsteps nearing you quickly. You looked around, alert, before spotting who the footsteps belonged to and relaxing. It was your good friends- Kalim, a crowned prince, and Jamil, his faithful and reliable servant. When they reached you, they came to a stop and the two boys caught their breaths while you greeted them.

“Kalim, Jamil, hello! What brings you two here?”

Jamil caught his breath faster than his master, “Is it true?” You looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?” you asked. Kalim, finally catching his breath, leapt forward and held your hands in his. He looked up at you from his hunched position, eyes wide in disbelief and desperation.

“The engagement! Are you really getting married?” the white haired boy exclaimed. You lit up in realization, “Oh, yes! I’m getting married in a month. The wedding will be beautiful. Speaking of beautiful, my fiancé is just oh so lovely. He is truly a gentleman- he even kissed my hand!” You pulled your hands away from Kalim and waved them around as you rambled on and on about your soon-to-be husband. Meanwhile, Jamil and Kalim stared at you.

No.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

They couldn’t believe what they were hearing. You were supposed to tear up and confess that you didn’t want this, asking for their assistance in getting out of the engagement. Then the two would hop in and save you, whisking you away for themselves. They glanced at each other, before you addressed them directly.

“Did you come all this way just to congratulate me? You two are far too sweet. Say, would you like some tea?” you asked them. Kalim felt his eyes vaguely begin to burn, vision becoming blurry. Jamil was left speechless. What could they say? Do they go along with it? Even if they hated every second of it, there was nothing else they could do other than go with it. Jamil swallowed a lump in his throat and took note of Kalim looking down, a few tears spilling from his eyes.

“Uh, ye—”

“Your Highness, your parents request that you to go to the great hall to begin the wedding plans,” a castle servant that approached unnoticed cut Jamil off. You felt yourself swell with happiness and excitement. You nodded and the servant bowed before walking off and tending to other chores.

“It seems as though I must go. My apologies, but it looks like we’ll have to postpone tea time. I’ll see you two around!” you said, offering an apologetic smile and eagerly running to get the plans started. Jamil and Kalim stood there, trying to recover from the shock.

Kalim sniffled, “There’s no way that Y/n could get married off like that. How could the king and queen do that? I thought for sure that we would get chosen. And Y/n looked so happy about it too. They barely even know each other!” Jamil closed his eyes, anger and distress bubbling within him.

“Then we’ll stop it from happening,” Jamil declared after some time. Kalim had begun to calm down by then, resentment for the wedding and your fiancé being the only things remaining. How could he take you away from them? He will never know you they way they do. Huffing, Kalim nodded.

“Nothing will take our Y/n from us.. Do you have a plan?” he asked. Jamil nodded, a twisted smile adorning his features, “It’s more of a last resort, but this is what we’ll do…”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, an indescribable happiness taking over your being. Today was the day. You spent the last month planning for the wedding and spending time with him, and the fruits of everyone’s hard work would show today.

“Your Highness, you’re tearing up,” a servant said, handing you a tissue. You thanked the servant, gently patting the corners of your eyes.

“Is everything ready?” you asked. The servant smiled gently and nodded, “Yes. Everything is set up as planned.” Suddenly, the doors to your chambers were knocked on briskly before being thrown open.

“Hey, watch it!” the servant with you said, “Your Highness must be treated with absolute respect, and that includes when inside the chambers.”

“Sorry,” said the one who entered, bowing apologetically. A butler- the one who was to guide you to your wedding. “However,” he cleared his throat, “a storm has just unleashed itself upon these lands. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but lightning just so happened to strike the carriage Your Highness was to occupy. The other carriages were also damaged for reasons unknown! There’s no way that we’ll get to the wedding like this!”

Your eyes widened in worry. “Was anyone hurt?” you asked, and the butler shook his head. ‘At least everyone is alright,’ you thought. But what would be of your wedding now? How would you get there?

“No need to fear,” a voice said, “because I am here!” You turned your head and smiled upon seeing Kalim and Jamil. You have no idea how they got here, but they were here and that’s all that mattered. “Hurry along, you two,” Kalim smiled at the butler and servant, “Please ready up my own carriage and send Y/n in that one. I got a special one made just for today, but Y/n can have it if needed! It might be a while before it gets here though; I had a few finishing touches added last minute.”

You felt yourself tear up in relief and threw yourself at the prince, “Thank you so much Kalim! Really!” He hugged back (maybe a little too tight) and responded with a no problem. The servants bowed and head out of the room. You turned to Jamil and Kalim, “I’m really grateful for you two, you know? You both have been with me since day one, and I’m so happy that I got to spend my life with you. Especially now- I have no idea what I would have done if you guys didn’t show up and help out.”

Jamil stared at you for a while, perhaps even studying you, before smiling. “We’re happy to be your friends as well. Now, please allow me to fix your hair, it got all messed up when you hugged Kalim.” You let out a small shriek upon hearing his words and turned to face the mirror. Just as he said, your hair was a little tousled. “Ah, yes please,” you said, sitting down at the vanity. Jamil quickly got to work, fixing up your hair in no time. A comfortable silence fell over the three of you. Jamil had a cute smile on his face as he worked and Kalim sat next to you playing with your hands. In that moment, even though there a setback, everything felt perfect. After this, you would go to your wedding with your two best friends by your side, and all would be well.

“You look beautiful, you know,” Jamil said, finishing up his work, “Your fiancé is a lucky man to marry someone so fine as yourself.” You smiled shyly, “Thank you, Jamil. It means a lot to me.” He nodded and stepped back, his job now done.

“Say, what’s so great about this man? You two barely met, yet you seem so eager to get married to him,” Kalim said. You closed your eyes and gathered your thoughts. The two boys sat in anticipation. This was it. This was where you tell them the truth and how you never wanted this; how this entire thing was all an act and that you only pretended in order to please everyone- especially your parents.

But it never came.

Instead, they were faced with you smiling happily.

“Oh, I don’t even know where to start! He’s such a wonderful man, this fiance of mine. He would do things that some might find cheesy or corny, but they were really sweet either way. He listens to me talk on and on- you two know how much I talk- and he’s always making sure that I got enough sleep or that I ate something. I truly do not know what I would have done had I not met this man. There was also this one time where he…”

And you listed all these great characteristics.

And how he did this or that, that one time.

And how much you loved him.

And the boys simply thought about how much they hate him.

You talked about your fiancé like you had known him for your entire life.

And that irritated both of them to no end.

The two boys shared a look. It seems as though they would have to go directly to their last resort.

You paused abruptly as Jamil cupped your face and gently turned it so you would be looking at him. Kalim held your hand on your other side. You looked into Jamil’s eyes and saw a menacing glow; one you had never seen before. “Y/n, that’s great and all, but…” you were glued to his eyes, almost as if you were being pulled into a trance. If you weren’t so distracted by this cunning energy you might have noticed the pink waves coming off of him.

“…you do not love that man.”

Your eyebrow twitched, and you felt like you had just come to the biggest realization of your life. You don’t love him. He is nothing but a stranger that waltzed into your life and attempted to woo you. He’s nothing to you.

Jamil and Kalim watched as you blinked wordlessly, knowing that the hypnosis worked. It would have been better if you proclaimed your love to them on your own terms, but it appears as though there was no other option.

Jamil continued to hold you face like it was glass.

“You love us. Me and Kalim.”

You repeated his words like a robot, “I love you… Jamil and Kalim.”

You felt as though flowers were blooming within you, and the more you stared at Jamil, the more you felt the urge to pull him in for a kiss. You love him. You love him. You love him. If only you could see Kalim as well.

The two boys glanced at each other. Kalim was smiling like a mad man, and Jamil reined in his surprise. He never expected Kalim to look so excited at your current state. “Could you have Y/n kiss us?” Jamil nodded, turning back to you.

“Kiss Kalim and me.”

You did not hesitate to turn around and kiss Kalim. He eagerly kissed you back, his kiss feeling like he had been holding back for years. Like a kid finally getting what he wanted. Finally, Kalim pulled away, his breathing heavy. Just as the prince was about to lean back in, Jamil pulled you his way.

“It's only fair I get a turn as well,” was all the ravenette said before puling you in for a kiss as well.

Jamil’s kiss was a lot more desperate than Kalim’s. Jamil was like a kid who hasn’t eaten in months. His kiss was attention starved, belonging to the man who has never had anything for himself. The man who was finally getting what he wanted for once. Your lips parted slightly, a small moan passing through. Jamil took the chance and slipped his tongue through to explore your mouth. You felt like you were burning up. A desire buried deep within you began to surface as you laced your hands through his hair and braids.

More.

You were passed between the two boys like some sort of toy, each time their kisses becoming more and more heated. You had cycled back to Kalim when the said boy began getting a lot touchier, running his hands up your sides. When you were dragged back to Jamil and his lips, Kalim decided that he still wanted to be with you. You became sandwiched between the two boys as Kalim began trailing kisses down your neck. Bodies pressed up against each other, Jamil tilted your head to deepen the kiss. You pulled him closer to you and Kalim whined behind you.

“Jamil, you’re hogging Y/n all for yourself~”

Jamil pulled back, letting you catch your breath. “Busy yourself with Y/n’s body then,” he said, going to kiss you once again. Kalim lit up, and began to let his touches wander up your clothes. He continued kissing your neck from behind, leaving some bites here and there. He slid your clothes off of your body, feeling you up. His hands eventually reached your nipples, and he began rolling them between his fingers, all the while having found a sweet spot on your nape. You moaned and Jamil drank it up along with any other noises you made. You squirmed a bit as Kalim continued playing with your nipples.

After a while, Jamil broke away from you, switching places with Kalim, who happily spun you around and began kissing you. This time, he broke away earlier, leaving more kisses on your neck. Jamil let his hands wander for a bit before sinking down in between your legs. He pulled down your underwear and let it fall beneath you. You could feel his hard on pressing up against you. Opening an eye and looking down, Kalim’s hard on was also there, and boy was it visible. You suddenly shut your eyes and moaned in pleasure. Jamil had begun to touch you in your most intimate area, building you up slowly. Your entire body jerked and you let out a yelp when you felt his other hand sink into your hole, easing itself within you and stretching you out in preperation. Kalim chuckled at your submissiveness and light moans as Jamil brought you closer and closer. The white haired prince went back to leaving marks on your neck, desperately searching for your sweet spot there. He decided to bring you more pleasure by letting his hands go back to your nipples- pinching, pulling, and rolling them between his fingers.

The knot in your stomach felt like it would snap at any moment, and you began to clench on Jamil’s fingers. You felt his breath on your ear, “Go on, my Jewel. Come for us.” That was all you needed before allowing yourself to come loose, reaching your high. Jamil and Kalim continued to touch you through it, easing you through your orgasm. You panted as Jamil pulled his fingers out of you, letting yourself fall against Kalim. The latter only smiled and pet your head.

“Now, now, Y/n. We haven’t even gotten to the best part. Jamil and I want to have some more fun,” he said. You nodded into his neck, his expensive cologne taking over you. Jamil gently separated you from Kalim and picked you up, carrying you to your bed. Kalim excitedly removed his clothes as well, climbing onto the bed and taking you into his arms. Jamil took off his own clothes and also climbed into the bed. Kalim handed you over to Jamil before going to the edge and positioning himself in between your legs.

“I’m going in now, okay?” Kalim said. You didn’t respond, still recovering from your high, albeit your body did tense up. Jamil felt it and gave you small affirmations, distracting you from the stretch you were about to receive. Suddenly, you felt the tip push in. Your eyes screwed shut and you clenched your jaw as he pushed in further and further. It hurt, the stretch, but you only let out a couple whimpers of discomfort. Kalim stared down at you and waited after he bottomed out within you. “Let us know when you’re ready,” Jamil said, only getting a small ‘mhm’ in response. The pain faded after a while and you nodded once you felt ready. Kalim slowly pulled out before pushing back in. Your breath hitched at the pleasure, and Jamil nodded. Kalim took the signal and began to set up a pace that was gentle, but hard. Your entire body moved when Kalim thrusted back inside of you. You saw Jamil distance himself a bit, and it didn’t take long to figure out why- his above average dick was in front of you, and you didn’t hesitate to open your mouth and take Jamil’s length. Together, a pace was created, and you nearly choked on Jamil when Kalim began thrusting harder and faster inside of you, resulting in Jamil’s cock going further down your throat.

Any previous gentleness was gone as the two boys abused your holes, using them like a toy for their own pleasure. You moaned around Jamil, making him throw his head back and moan out your name. Kalim was also letting you know just how much pleasure you were bringing him through his voice. Your name cascaded out both their mouths like a symphony, their thrusts becoming harsher and sloppier. Kalim came first, pulling out and spilling his seed onto your upper body. You felt him lower his head after recovering for a bit and begin using his mouth to pleasure you, bringing you closer to your second orgasm. You already knew that Jamil’s dick would leave bruises at the back of your throat with how harsh he was being, but you didn’t care. You brought a hand up and began massaging his balls, which didn’t fail to make him shoot his seed down your throat. You didn’t expect him to have so much, so it was a difficult task for you to swallow it all. Even then, some cum remained in your mouth, and you opened your mouth for the boys, giving them a look at your cum covered body and lips as you came with Kalim’s mouth, the boy happily lapping everything up. You heard the two groan at the sight before Jamil took charge and cleaned you up. He would have bathed you, but didn’t have that much time to spare- Kalim and Jamil must have you ready to leave with them as soon as they could.

“Kalim.. Jamil… I have to go to the wedding,” you said, tearing up and back in your previous clothing. The two boys tensed up. “W-What do you mean?” asked Kalim. Did Jamil’s magic not work? But it seemed to have done the job earlier. What went wrong?

“I just…” you started, sniffling a bit, “I can’t leave everyone hanging like that. You two are wonderful, but.. I don’t wish to start any unnecessary trouble. Please, let me go to the wedding.”

Their minds were racing. Did you snap out of it somehow? What do they do? Would Jamil have to hypnotize you again? They glanced at each other. No, they could try convincing you first.

“Well..” Jamil started. Kalim finished the sentence, desperate.

“Don’t you love us?!”

You flinched at the sudden yelling, but Kalim didn’t seem to care much. Jamil and Kalim stared at you, waiting for an answer. “I..” you started, before a brisk knock cut you off. The servant from before entered the room. “The carriage is ready. Are you ready to go, Y/n?” You nodded, albeit this time you didn’t seem so happy. The two boys were left behind, wondering what just happened. The butler came in shortly after, saying that you had requested they ride the carriage with you after graciously offering it to you. When they entered the carriage, everything was silent. It was a tense silence. You refused to look at them for the entire ride. When you all arrived, you were escorted for some final touch ups, and Jamil and Kalim were led to the ceremony grounds. The two slowly began to panic as they stood by the entrance rather than taking the seats reserved for them.

The doors were thrown open, much to everyone’s surprise, and you came in, a few tears falling down your face. Everyone immediately silenced themselves to see what was going on. You walked up to your groom, who in turn looked at you in concern. He approached you, gently putting a hand on your shoulder.

You knew you said that you didn’t wish to cause trouble, but you don’t love him. What made you want to marry him to begin with? You love Kalim and Jamil- they’re all you need. It looks like you’ll be taking that sentence back, because you will be causing trouble, only this time you see it as necessary.

“Are you okay?” he asked, “Why are you cryin—?”

“I can’t do this!” you cut him off, “I don’t love you, and I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. We just met a month ago, and there’s no way I could ever fall for someone in such a short period of time! You have an amazing personality- you’re a great person overall, but this is not something I can go through with. I don’t love you. I don’t love you. I don’t… love you.”

You broke down in front of everyone, angry tears now rolling down your face. Everything felt so wrong. This was supposed to be your special day, and something deep within you is screaming at you that this is wrong, but anytime you try to reach that part of you, something forces it back down and stomps on it. It’s almost as though you were being controlled. This only frustrated and fueled you further. ‘You don’t love him,’ something reminded yourself.

Your fiancé stood there, shocked. His eyebrows furrowed in pain and confusion, and if you squinted you would see a tear or two forming. He cleared his throat after a while, the guests, still in silence, wondering what he would say.

“I see…” he said, “If, uh, this is how you feel, then we can call off the engagement. I just have one condition: stay with me, just for today. I want to spend some time with you before you’re gone—”

“No. I don’t want to see you ever again,” you said. You turned and began walking down the aisle and back to the entrance. You stopped and glanced at Kalim and Jamil before grabbing their hands in yours- one on each side- and showing it off to the world. Your audience and ex-fiancé gasp.

“I’ll get married to them instead. I’ve grown up with these two since I was a child, and there’s no one who knows me like they do. I.. I love them,” you declared, although part of you felt unsure with the last sentence. Your brain quickly shoos the uncertainty away, and you squeeze their hands. You could see your father rise up from the crowd.

“Now listen here, young one,” he started, but you cut him off.

“NO! I won’t listen. I’m getting married to them- end of conversation. Whether you like it or not, these two are the ones I love, the ones I will live with, and the ones I will marry.”

These were your last words before you stomped out of the room, dragging Kalim and Jamil whose hands you were still holding. You went back to Kalim’s carriage, the storm having finally cleared, and got in. You ordered the driver to head to the Land of the Hot Sands after Jamil and Kalim followed you inside.

Jamil and Kalim were beyond happy. They’re plan really did work- you were just in need of some closure with your ex-fiancé. A confirmation. Or, in their eyes, a ‘fuck you, I love them.’ They were feeling euphoric. The man they hated was just dumped, his heart crushed, right before their eyes. They got to keep you, they won you. And now you were going to the Land of the Hot Sands? To live with them? Kalim jumped across the carriage to hug you.

“You really do love us!” he exclaimed. You sobbed into his shoulder, nodding.

“I really thought I was going to force myself to do that, but I just.. couldn’t. I could never marry someone I don’t love. That’s why I went into the room and called everything off,” you said, wiping your eyes. Jamil sat on your side of the carriage as well, putting an arm around you and grabbing your hand, placing a kiss upon it.

“Don’t worry, my Jewel. You’ll be safe with us. Nobody will take you away, right Kalim”

Kalim nodded. They looked at you, and while you felt better than before, something still just didn’t feel right. You shook your head and smiled weakly at them. “Okay,” you said. You began to grow tired and closed your eyes, falling asleep. Kalim and Jamil smiled, each one taking a hold of one hand.

“We love you.”

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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 4 years ago

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Blindfold

Blindfold Yunho x f.reader Genre: Smut Words: 3.8k Warnings: Not really any warnings but we’re into blindfolding and major teasing here, folks. Birthday sex.

Authors Note: I hope that writing this will quench my thirst and make him stop haunting my dreams. Please suffer with me.

March 23rd. A day you’ve had marked with three red ‘x’’s on your phone calendar for a month. A day you have thought about since Valentine’s Day, after your wonderful, loving, perfect-to-you-in-every-way boyfriend told you about something he would like to try. The conversation had been innocent enough, although there was some irony in it’s exchange, during post-sex cuddles on your bed.

He was all giggles, with soft hands and warm skin, voice lower than usual and just as tender. You could feel the gentle tickle of his lips at your hairline as they moved to form words. Easy words that spelled out his curious desire, “Maybe someday we could try blindfolding.” Those six simple words, spoken with a tangible smile and blushing cheeks, had you pulling your head back from the comfort of his neck to watch his face. Yunho was grinning, somehow shy after all this time, and proud of himself nonetheless. You smiled right back at him with your lips pressed to his chin when he playfully lifted his lips too high for you to reach in your position cradled against his chest. “If you want to blindfold me I would let you. I trust you.” you assured him, but he let out a soft laugh. He swallowed audibly under your full attention, clearing his throat to speak even softer, “Not you…” You said nothing, needing a moment to understand, “I want you to blindfold me.” Realization hit you, and a gut punch of arousal along with it, “Oh.” With your palm against his chest, you forced yourself up at the same time Yunho let you push him onto his back. You wasted no time in straddling his lap. You leaned forward, stretching yourself to place your hands over his eyes with a giggle. “I didn’t mean we had to do it right now!” he laughed, grasping your hands and removing them from his face to kiss your palms. Placing your hands on his stomach, you rolled your hips over his growing length, “Perhaps not, but I still want you right now.” His hands were already gripping your thighs the moment you moved against him. With a bite to his smirking lips, he followed your motions with actions of his own, “As you wish.”

So here you were, after careful planning and orchestration. Without letting them know the details of your plan, you made sure to enlist Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s help, or at least tell them you were trying to make plans for the evening on Yunho’s birthday. You didn’t expect any promises, but Seonghwa did text you this morning to tell you they would try to get him out on time.

You fold and unfold the long piece of silk in your lap, running your fingers over the smooth fabric and appreciating the pink color you chose. It matches the rest of the lace babydoll and panties that cover you.

Part of you is slightly nervous, while the other reminisces about all the reasons you shouldn’t be. Yunho has never been one to make you feel anything less than comfortable or wanted in your relationship, and sex between you is not new.

Perhaps your nerves are born of performance? You must be feeling this way because he specifically wanted this and if you don’t make it great for him then it will be a failure. Yunho has said the same thing to you many times, when he feels nervous about performing for his fans.

Just as you shake your head with resolve to make this wonderful for him, the bedroom door opens and you jump.

There he is, stopped in his tracks, standing with his hand still wrapped around the doorknob as he stares at you sitting there at the end of your bed.

“You’re home.” is what you say, trying to rebound off your surprise. You must have been so lost in thought you didn’t notice the sound of his arrival through the apartment. You don’t miss the way his presence seems to add a fond sense of ‘home’ to the room.

He gulps, an easy smile raising his cheeks. His duffel bag is tossed to the floor in front of the dresser and he closes the door, unzipping his training jacket until that too, is tossed to the floor.

“What’s all this?” he asks, standing in front of you. He dips low to capture your lips in a greeting, waiting for your answer when he regains his full height.

You goad him with a grin, “Why don’t you hurry up and shower so you can find out?”

Yunho’s brows lift momentarily as he turns toward the hamper, smirking back at you as he begins to undress. He takes a peek at your face with every piece that comes off, eating up the way your eyes ogle him in silence.

He checks just once more before ducking into the bathroom, making sure you’re staying put there on the bed.

You refuse to let your thoughts consume you anymore, enjoying the pleasant buzz that sizzles on your skin, left in the wake of his staring. Although it’s new, you were certain he would love this piece on you, having mentioned the few times you’ve worn lingerie, that he loves you most in soft colors that compliment your cuteness. Babydolls are your personal favorite, and he has agreed prior that they’re best for ease of access when he wants to fuck you while keeping something on.

You’re both laughing when your eyes meet after his shower. The unspoken acknowledgment that he’s probably broken a record for his shower time is funny to both of you.

He doesn’t bother with anything more than a towel around his hips, and you pluck it from his grip as soon as he is within reach, “You won’t be needing that.”

He smiles at you, allowing you to tug him forward onto the bed. Yunho’s fingers busy themselves with touching and pinching the lace that delicately hides your skin from him. He lifts the hem in his fist, watching it nearly float back down around you with a sigh.

He definitely loves it.

“I love this on you,” he admits a moment later, his eyes seeking yours. The tone of his voice always melts you like this- when it’s full of love and ardor.

You gesture towards the headboard, allowing him a moment to get comfortable in your requested position before you straddle him. He hisses at the contact of your covered heat against his length, half hard since he came out of the shower from anticipation alone.

Yunho reaches up, collecting you by the nape of your neck and urging you down so he can kiss you. His lips move against yours exactly how you like, slow and building. He does this sometimes, when he wants you to be putty in his hands- not that you ever resist.

Except, today you have to take some control. Pushing past the bubbling nerves in your gut, you lean back. He chases you- leaning forward and consuming you, adamant that he isn’t finished sampling you.

It pulls a gentle moan from your throat when he moves his lips down to it. He holds you in place, caged against his body with his own arms clutching you to him. Your eyes pop open, remembering not to get pulled under the waves of euphoria with him just yet. Today is about his pleasure.

“Yunho,” you say, but it comes out as a whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he coos back, still working his mouth against your neck.

A deep breath leaves you, “Stop for a second.”

Immediately he sits back, with eyes full of concern. He searches your face for any sign of discomfort, and his expression morphs into confusion, followed by realization a moment later when he notices the length of silk in your hands.

You lift it up between you, bashful and smiling. You’re eager for his reaction, and your boyfriend doesn’t disappoint.

“Is it my birthday?” he wonders aloud.

You snort a laugh at him, taking a playful swat at his chest, “It is, you dork.”

He gives you a dazzling, heart-clenching, silly grin at your response, “Oh, yeah.”

“Now sit still, please.” you instruct, unable to hide your growing smile at his immediate and eager obedience.

He waits, eyes closed, but unable to help the way his length twitches against your core as you wrap the silk over his eyes.

“All good under there? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” you ask, not bothering to hold up any at all.

“No, but I can feel both your hands on me so nice try.” he says, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his tone.

He earns himself a swipe of your tongue over his neck at his snarky remark, and the resulting sharp inhale you’re rewarded with is enough sweet justice for you.

He’s smiling when you pull away, tugging here and there to make sure it isn’t too tight nor too loose. He groans when you give him no warning and take his face into your hands, kissing him deeply.

You don’t stop your attention, kissing him until the sound of your lips feels deafening in the silence of the room. His hands grip your waist, gently rocking you back and forth along him in tandem.

It’s enough, you decide, when you break for air and he’s panting with flushed cheeks and heated skin. “Are you going to be okay, baby?”

He swallows thickly, then smiles, and you resist the urge to coo at the way his cheeks look rounder with the blindfold over his eyes. “Keep going.”

“Of course,” you comply in a sultry tone, “Just relax.”

He does as you’ve asked, allowing you to rise from his lap and push his legs apart further. He bites his lip with anticipation- feeling your weight dip the bed between his legs.

You enjoy the opportunity to tease, letting out huffs of your warm breath to ghost along his fully erect cock. He remains still and slack-jawed, awaiting your every movement. Unwilling to waste the moment, you admire him briefly- reclined on your bed, naked in all his glory. Yunho is gorgeous, but knowing he is just as beautiful beneath the surface makes your chest swell with great love.

The sight before you is something you aim to burn into memory for every sleepless, needy night that you miss him. His abs are taut, strained with anticipation and heavy breaths. His arms rest at his sides, feigning relaxation as his fingers dance with a stray thread on the blanket beneath him. His mouth is open just slightly and his brows are knit together in valiant concentration.

The part that pulls a low hum of appreciation from your throat is his full erection. Thick, red and leaking onto his abdomen, you’re spurred into action with the desire to see him a mess.

The first touch you deliver is a kiss, just on the edge of his hip. Slowly and deliberately, you firmly plant wet, open-mouthed kisses lower and closer to where he grows desperate for you. You’re paying attention to his reaction with every ministration and you must admit you are quickly becoming intoxicated with this game.

The power you feel, and how his every tiny reaction drives the spike of arousal deeper into your veins. He holds his breath, knowing the next place your lips will find is his cock if you keep going. With a tactical pause, you skip over it, smiling at his flushed cheeks, and let your lips flutter over the top of his thigh instead.

Yunho releases his held breath with a long and dour groan.

“Please don’t tease.” he whispers quietly, gasping when you suddenly rise up and lave the flat of your tongue around his left nipple. His hand jerks up with the desire to touch, but he resists. You didn’t ever tell him he couldn’t, but let him decide on his own what he wants to do. After all, this is about his pleasure.

The next moment you’ve swooped back down, gently taking the head of him into your mouth, and he reacts with a jerk of his hips and a loud moan. Garbled sounds of pleasure drop freely from his lips, his head thrown back as you take him as far back as you can.

The wet slurping is an erotic audio that pours heat into your own cheeks, and you can imagine that Yunho must feel like that sound is surrounding him with the subconscious focus of his ears.

“Oh, fuck baby… mmm, fuck.” he whines quietly when you use a hand to pump the base of his length that you can’t fit comfortably. He raises a hand again, and you watch as he bites his lip and resists the urge to tangle his fingers in your hair- instead balling a fist and settling it back at his side.

You continue like this for several minutes, switching your rhythm and pattern here and there to stroke or suck him the way you know he likes. When his breath is coming in ragged pants and his thighs begin the slightest tremble, you slow, and eventually release him.

Yunho’s protest is audible, and you cup his cheek at the adorable way his lips are pouted open and his brows are strung together with his plea.

“I want this to last.” you assure him, “It’ll be worth it.”

“Kiss me then,” he barters with you, breathless. His request is one you can comply with, planting a kiss directly to his lips and he tries so hard to kiss you into submission with his plush lips.

“That’s not fair,” you coo.

He smiles, shaking his head and leaning forward, “You’re not being fair.”

Leaning into him, you make sure to wrap your arms around his neck and whisper directly into his ear, “Don’t act like you didn’t want this.”

The resounding moan he tries to suppress is not lost on you, and he settled back with the clearing of his throat.

Straddling his thigh, you settle yourself in a comfortable position to kiss across his chest. Your mouth works higher until you’re biting gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He moans softly in reward, finally allowing himself the pleasure of your skin beneath his fingers, pacified with touching your thigh where it rests.

Your hand reaches down and you let your fingers wrap around his cock again at the same moment you gently suck on the place you’d just bitten. Your boyfriend is louder now, letting a throaty moan peel from his lips with your fist around his aching length.

He hisses when you repeat your marking a little higher, just below his ear. Yunho’s hand grips you tighter, letting it roam beneath the pretty lace, toward the fullness of your ass and digging his fingertips in to urge you into motion upon his leg.

“Fuck.” he whispers lowly on a breath as you set a rhythm with your fist once more. His head falls back against the headboard, his hips softly canting up with every pump.

As if he had intended it that way, his throat is now conveniently exposed for your lips and teeth. You want to make excellent use of his generosity, but the ache of emptiness in your cunt demands more attention.

Wordlessly, you sit up, shimmying yourself out of the matching panties and letting your knees settle on either side of his hips. Every rustle of fabric and movement you make is one that Yunho absorbs with great anticipation.

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re up to yet, but he can smell your perfume and your sex and feel your proximity over him. With wandering hands, he reaches out, tentatively, catching the left side of your waist first. All it takes is a simple swipe of his thumb and the comforting palm of his hand for him to realize exactly what part of your body he is holding, even through the lace.

That notion makes you softer for him, smiling sweetly at the dusty rose on his face as he reaches up to palm your breast. His free hand slides to your back, pulling you closer so he can attach his tongue to the nipple he’s found budding beneath the fabric of your lingerie.

The friction and heat makes you whine, admittedly turned on more than you thought possible with the addition of a simple piece of silk around Yunho’s head.

He spoils you with his hands now, roaming all over your curves, mostly followed by his mouth. He’s still short of breath, but smiles nonetheless when he locates at first your nose and then your lips with his own kisses. He doesn’t try any tricks this time.

His kiss pauses immediately when his hands, having wandered down and beneath the lacy fringe, find you bare. He groans at the feel of your skin, audibly basking in the pleasure it gives him to glide two fingers through your wetness with practiced ease.

Yunho dips one long digit into your heat, eating up the sound of your cry. Your hands hold him at his neck and his shoulder, leaning into his frame to stay steady. His face is less than an inch from your shoulder, and he takes advantage of the proximity to turn his head and capture the side of your neck with his mouth.

A second finger joins the first, gliding through your wetness and creating obscene squelching sounds with every thrust into your pussy. You’re beginning to lose yourself, completely indulged in the feeling of him absolutely everywhere.

He loves it just as much, groaning at the sounds you’re making just because of him.

“Does that feel good baby?” he suddenly asks, and the tone of his voice is absolutely sinful.

“Yes.” you whimper into his ear.

He grunts, “I’m gonna come if we keep playing like this.”

The admission is a tempting offer, but you don’t want to end the fun too early. Instead, you think it best to ask him, “What do you want me to do?”

He leans back again, reclining against the pillows, and you allow him to guide you now by feel. To do what he wants with you. “Why don’t you have a seat, baby?” he coos mischievously.

Teasing him further, you take advantage of the position and settle your core over his abs. He makes a sound in his throat akin to a growl and grabs your bottom with both hands and pulls you back into an upright position on your knees.

He kneads the malleable flesh for no longer than a second before he sits up straighter and tells you, “Sit on my cock.”

The dirty words leaving his mouth send sparks up your spine, and you do as you’re told. He’s already got one fist around the base of himself, aiding you in sliding down along the length he’s presented you with.

Watching his face contort with pleasure as you sink over him is by far one of your favorite parts of sex with your boyfriend. He’s so expressive, and the breathy moan that spills from his mouth when you’ve settled completely sends you halfway to heaven already.

Yunho is completely flushed, now. With the rosy tint creeping down his neck to his chest and the two small blooming violets you’ve given him, he adjusts to wrap one arm around your waist while the other is propped behind him on the bed so he can stay upright.

You set to work immediately, rolling your hips over him to a rhythm you can both enjoy. He’s panting again, stimulated to sensitivity from the restriction to his vision.

Mewling sounds leave your mouth, hanging open as you continuously spear yourself on his length. He gives a particularly hard thrust that sends you toppling forward onto his chest. As if he intended it that way, he naturally holds you against him and scoots down the bed- enough to plant his feet firmly so he can rock into you with more strength.

This position is your favorite and he knows it. The sound of your cries amplify with the angle of his cock into your depths, and the sounds are diving right into his ear. You’re rapidly approaching your orgasm in this position.

He grunts, baring his teeth as he thrusts into you roughly. “Fuck, Yuyu… oh my god, fuck, yes.” you breathe the words against him, and he delivers you a loud, rewarding groan.

“I can’t, oh fuck this is so good.” he praddles desperately, slowing to flip you onto your back.

He rips the silk away from his eyes, not bothering to toss it from his hand as his gaze finds your face. The mutually fucked out expressions you share spurs him on, working quickly to push your knee up to your shoulder as he drives his cock deeper into you.

The wildness in his eyes catches you off guard and he can feel your walls tightening around him. Yunho immediately places his thumb on your clit, sending you rapidly spiraling into euphoria. He wants to feel you come undone around him.

The added stimulation sends you over the edge and you seize up, crying out his name in a high-pitched moan.

He follows you on a ragged breath a moment later, unable to withstand the pleasure. He slows, thrusting steadily at a declining pace and strength until he’s spent, leaning over your frame with a blissful expression.

It takes several moments for you both you regain your breaths, and when Yunho finally slips from your core and rolls onto his side, you think he is simply stunning. You stay in your position for a few seconds longer, spying him as he throws his arm over his eyes and smiles.

“Mmm, baby, you’re amazing. That was...” he pauses to mull over choice words “Incredibly hot.” he breathes, slowly regaining a normal heart rate. You stir at his praise, finding enough strength in your jellied limbs to pull yourself against his chest.

“Did you like it?” you wonder, just to confirm what you already know.

He exhales a soundless laugh, lifting his arm just enough to grin at you, “That was some of the best sex we’ve ever had. Top three personal favorites.”

It’s a running joke between you to sometimes rank the best sex you’ve had together, and you giggle at his opinion, pleased with yourself.

“I put so much work into that, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He removes his arm finally, placing it around you instead. He squeezes you just enough that his lips can reach the crown of your hair. “Thank you.”

“Happy Birthday baby.” you finally say with a kiss to his lips.

It isn’t until four days later, the next time you see the rest of his group, that you’re made privy to the fact that he told them- in great detail- about the birthday gift he received from you when Wooyoung makes a joke about using the tie Yunho is wearing as a blindfold.

Your boyfriend fails to meet your sharp gaze when you look at him immediately after. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll get your revenge.

“That’s alright,” you assure the group. “I’ll just have to use handcuffs on him next time, too.”

You keep a stone face until you catch Jongho’s head whip up at your statement, and the look of pure horror on his face sends you into a fit of laughter.

#yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez fanfiction #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #jeong yunho

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 4 years ago

Text

This Boy (George Harrison x Female!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! welcome to my first oneshot! a lot of my stories are very plot-driven and they end up becoming these long chapter fics but I'm gonna see if I can make a handful of oneshots in the next little bit to kind of give yous something to read while waiting for the longer fics to finish up. this is my first one, and it's for Georgie!

Summary: It's date night, and you're more than ready to meet your mystery date; George, however, is not.

WARNINGS: Swearing is in almost all my fics, so this one isn't safe either probably, hints of suggestive behaviour, slow burn, friends to lovers, lack of self-editing probably, etc. *This fic is also LONG AF so I would advise y'all to start reading this when you have nothing else to do*

I'll rate this one as a T. Enjoy, folks!

George checked the clock on the wall again and sighed gently.

You were still getting ready.

As much as it disappointed him, George agreed-- well, more like offered-- to drive you to your blind date one of your girlfriends set you up on.

It's not that he wasn't excited or proud of you for getting yourself out there. He knew you'd been meaning to do that since graduating school.

He was just frustrated at the fact that whichever lucky man was going on a date with you that night wasn't him.

When he found out about the date, he immediately vocalized his distrust for the mystery person, despite knowing absolutely zero about him. You seemed heartbroken at that, and to make it up to you, he offered to drive you to the date.

So there he was, sitting on the sofa in the living area of your flat, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

George had taken you to school dances in the past, and while your mother let you wear makeup to them, it never took you this long to apply it.

You were definitely dressing to impress tonight.

"Lucky man," he just mumbled under his breath at the thought of that boy.

You and George had been friends since you were children, and he deemed you his Best Friend Forever only an hour into your first playtime.

You spent your days as children riding your bikes to the park to play, and helping each other with homework at each other's houses every night.

However, that sort of platonic "buddy-buddy" dynamic changed when the both of you hit puberty.

It wasn't until a boy at George's school questioned him if you were his girlfriend, that George realized he had a crush on you. Some of his friends had girl friends, and they were always teased about whether or not they were dating, but this was the first time anyone had put you and George together.

After this discovery, (which he would endlessly thank the young boy who opened his eyes to the truth in the first place) George began to notice lots of little things about you that he hadn't before.

You would run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head during hugs, you never took your eyes away from him when he was speaking; there hadn't been one time to name that you'd ever made him upset or angry, but more or less excited, and free, and joyous.

And not to mention, the way you called him "Georgie" made his heart pound so loud and hard in his chest that he might as well have just completed a marathon...

He was in love with everything only when you were around.

Actually, as awkward as George thinks it is, Paul helped him realize he was physically attracted to you.

The boys were on their way to George's after school, a few years after George realized he had a little crush on you, and the teenagers both caught sight of you watering the front garden of your home at the request of your mother.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his mouth hanging open as he watched you do your thing. After being enrolled in his boy's school, you never had much time to see one another, as much as it hurt him; so he cherished every moment he could see you.

"If her ma catches you out the window starin' at her daughter's arse the way you're doin' right now Harrison, they'll rip your tongue right out."

George's face went bright red, and he turned to look at Paul in horror, slapping him on the arm for saying such a thing. "I wasn't staring at her like that!" But he couldn't help but steal a glance at your behind since it was now the topic of discussion, though he really didn't want it to be.

Paul knew George felt compelled to say something to you, and he smirked as George awkwardly raised his hand to wave as he called to you from the other side of the street.

"H-hey, Y/n!"

You turned around, and grinned at who you'd seen.

"Hey Georgie! Hi Paulie!" You twiddled your fingers at them, and George's stomach churned in jealousy at the fact you had a nickname for Paul, as well.

"Your garden looks beautiful, Ms. Y/l/n!"

Paul stole George's line. He fucking stole his line!

"A-and you look just as lovely as ever!" George added to one-up his friend.

You put a hand to your heart. "You boys make my heart sing." George took pride in your words despite them partially being for Paul as well.

"We need to see each other more, yeah?" George never expected his question to really get him anywhere, but he was wrong.

"Why not tonight? I don't have any homework and my parents are leaving town 'round five for the weekend to visit my auntie and uncle."

George's answer came quick, and effortlessly. "I'll be 'round for six. Sound good?"

"Perfect! I'll see you tonight then." You waved to the boys again, and then went back to watering the garden after bidding farewell.

The rest of the walk home was just Paul making fun of how lovestruck George was with you, and by the time they got to his house, just down the road from yours, Paul looked over at his buddy and smiled.

"No wonder you value your time with your darlin' over there so much, Magpie. Looks like she would definitely be a fine birdie in bed."

George looked over at Paul, eyes wide, and his voice broke. "... What?!" The thought of going to bed with you never crossed his mind-- well, until that moment.

"Hey, her folks'll be gone by the time you go over! You can make your move then! It's perfect!" Paul's words laced with excitement made George feel panicked, and the boy shook his head worriedly after a moment. "M-maybe it's not the best idea to go tonight..."

"Why not? All you ever wanna do is be alone with her!" Paul set a hand on the other boy's shoulder when he didn't answer. "What's up, George?"

"Paul, I've never even kissed her. She doesn't even know I like her like that! What if she likes someone else?! What do I even do?!" Paul was the biggest heartbreaker George knew. He'd had like... ten girlfriends since they met, and he kissed a whole three of them. They didn't last long, much like the fate of other young relationships, but George took Paul's advice as serious guidance; he needed to in a time like this.

"You just need to be calm. Take some deep breaths. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I know you will."

That night, George had many opportunities to dive in for a kiss, or mention his feelings for you; some of those opportunities he even believed you encouraged, but he didn't budge out of utter fear of rejection. George knew for a fact that Paul was going to facepalm when he asks him for details on the visit to your place.

Instead, the night only consisted of talking, and the only contact you made were a couple of hugs and a kiss on the cheek (which left George a stumbling mess again), though you did agree to spend more time together, which is how your friendship lasted so long.

He was so close to having you, and because he was too scared to make the move Paul (and maybe you) were encouraging him to make so long ago, you slipped through his fingers; and since, the thought of not being able to have you that way never left his mind.

Especially not when you were now a gorgeous young lady, blindly torturing poor George, who beat himself up every day because he lost his chance.

You were like a piece of artwork to George. You could be loved, admired, and looked at by him, but he could never hold you or touch you.

And George hated that.

George wanted you to be his girl.

And you were his girl-- well, in a twisted way. You were always with him, smiling and laughing about nothing and everything, holding onto each other in your darkest nights and guiding one another through personal struggles...

But when other boys started to want you too, George wanted to make it a point to keep the majority of them away.

Some didn't heed George's threats and went on to pursue you anyways, only to be turned down on your front steps by yourself. George never understood why you never reciprocated anybody's feelings, but it's not like he was verbally complaining.

And that's what lead up to tonight. George had wanted you for so long, and the sudden knowledge of a blind date had him in shock, especially since this was your very first time giving in and agreeing to go.

It killed him to know some rando was going to appear out of thin air to whisk you away, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and eventually put his hands on you, thinking his love for you is stronger than any other despite knowing absolutely nothing about how you should be loved, and treated...

But George hid his fury from you because you were excited about this date.

And he would do anything for you.

George's rage-inducing, mind-racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut from behind him. He turned his head, heart in his throat, and you stepped into the room.

You wore a lovely high-waisted navy dress, and a pair of black flats. Your hair was half down, the rest coming together at the back of your head by a matching clip-on bow.

As expected, your makeup was quite noticeable. The burgundy colour of your lips and dark brown eyeshadow had George's head spinning, and he couldn't resist ogling at the way that dress fit you so well...

"So… How do I look? Like, if we were about to go on a date..."

A date? Us? We?!

George's palms began to sweat, and his heart did somersaults. If only.

It was only then that he realized his mouth was hanging slightly ajar, and after snapping it shut, he swallowed in embarrassment, not daring to look anywhere but your eyes again in fear of falling victim to your appearance again.

Imagine not being able to trust your eyes?

"... What would you think?"

George squeaked, his lips moving hesitantly though he didn't make a sound. His face was surely an embarrassing shade of red, and the longer he waited into answer, the more anticipated you looked for a response.

George rose to his feet and approached you, bravely deciding to give you another good onceover after a deep breath, though he kind of lost all sense of feeling in his legs when you smiled at him with that perfect mouth of yours...

"Wow." George sighed, eyelids falling heavy over his brown irises as he admired you.

"I just... you... wow, Y/n." He couldn't come up with a coherent sentence with the way you were staring at him like that.

God, he was absolutely smitten with you.

Your eyes shone joyously as you placed your hand on your heart, and George, as impossible to him as it seemed, fell so much more in love with you than he was just moments before. Your presence rendered him speechless, and the thought inflated your ego a lot more than you would have expected it to.

George remained silent, but his gaze was still glued to you. He'd looked at you for long enough in his life to probably draw you perfectly by memory, but he still took his time to drink in what he was given; because who knew if he'd ever be able to see more of you than this?

"I... I'm-- I'm speechless, is what I am." He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "I... honestly hope my eyes are doing all the talking for me."

"Aw, you're just a sweetiepie, aren't you?"

You beamed at George, blushing as you took another step toward him. "Well Georgie... if you keep looking at me and sweet-talking the way you are..." your warm words were carefully chosen, and it was obvious that George was hanging into every single word you were saying.

"I may just have to pass on this date and spend tonight with you." Your eyelids fell heavy over your eyes, and you offered George a smile that was suggesting something maybe not so innocent.

"Wh-what?!"

"... I said I'm ready to go." You raised your eyebrow in a little confusion at George's flustered state.

Oh my fucking God she didn't even say that?!

Idiot.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

"... R-right, yes, of course." George shook his head as if to rid his brain of the idea of tricking him like that again. He offered his arm out to you, and you linked yours with his before walking to the door together.

You passed a mirror on the way out, and George caught a glimpse of the both of your reflections, and his chest felt like it was on fire.

He looked so happy to be with you in that moment.

And you looked so happy to be leaving to spend time with another man.

George just hoped at least the reflection of him and you were going on this date together, and both of those smiles were meant for each other.

George pulled up to whatever restaurant this guy wanted to meet you at, which was on the other side of town. George did not approve of this and even reminded you of this on the way there, though you insisted you'd be fine, like you had the couple of times he mentioned this before.

You looked at him after he threw his car into park, and he gave you a little smile after a moment, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You do look beautiful, Y/n. This guy... he's very lucky."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you believe me."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you smiled sadly, and leaned in to kiss George's cheek. His skin darkened to pink beneath your lips before you could pull away and leave the car with another goodbye, though his ears were ringing and he missed your final farewell.

She doesn't believe me...

George waited until he saw you were seated in the restaurant to put his car back into drive, but something kept him from lifting his foot off the brake. He watched you adjust your silverware at your table, and clasp your hands together in wait.

... Maybe George wanted to wait for this guy to show up.

But would he really want to kill himself by spying on you and watching you fall for someone who wasn't him over the course of one night?

That was the question that made him decide to look back, and pull out of his parking space before he could spot anyone even go near the building. He was in drive and speeding home moments later.

The car ride back to his flat was a quiet one. George kept the radio off, and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole time as if he were almost impatient to get home and do nothing.

Every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw his eyes stare back at him, it just reminded him that his reflection left that restaurant alone and just as disappointed as his real counterpart.

It wasn't long before George pulled into his building's parking space and sulked out of his car, slamming the door shut. His eyes and nose were burning from the assault of unfallen tears.

He dropped you off to meet this guy. This was all on him this time.

George loved you. He loved you with all his heart, enough to swallow his pride-- sacrifice his happiness for your own.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, dropping you off that night felt like he was letting you go.

And was he?

He pretty much stumbled through the door because his fucks to give for himself were pretty much nonexistent at this point. He kicked his shoes off, not caring if he scuffed up the wall with black marks.

He just wanted to have a long hot shower, crawl into bed, and hide from everyone.

And that's just what he did.

His shower was well over an hour long, and that's where he broke down and cried for the majority of the time. He cried about you, and the situation his own decisions put himself in. He cried in jealousy for the threat sweeping you off your feet right now, and he cried as if that was the last night he'd ever see you again.

When he got out of the shower, well after the stream went cold, he had no more tears to shed. He was dehydrated, and he felt broken. He did a half-assed job of drying himself off before leaving the bathroom and collapsing into bed, only a towel secured around his hips.

His face was pressed into his pillow, and he tucked his arms beneath it and submerged himself even further into the soft fabric.

He recently switched detergent to whichever one you regularly used, and he just took in the familiar scent; anything to make him feel more at home without you actually being present...

George had no idea how long he was in that position for, but he fell asleep like that, only to wake to the sound of the phone ringing.

He got up and stumbled out of his room to ease the obnoxiously loud phone by picking up the call, shouting, and hanging up on whoever decided to phone at this hour-- whichever hour it was.

"Yeah," George rasped through the receiver, his tone laced with underlying irritation. He just wanted to be left alone in his sadness.

"George..."

"... Y/n?" He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand before you spoke, but your voice made him freeze.

"Oh Georgie..." your voice was breaking over the phone, and he could tell it wasn't the connection.

"Y/n, my Love, what's the matter?!"

"George he... He didn't show." George's heart stopped.

He didn't show.

George's grip closed tighter and tighter on the phone receiver, and he could feel the pure rage bubbling in his chest, and the plastic receiver crackling from the force under his fingers.

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I'm coming right now to get you," George was about to start throwing his shoes on, despite wearing absolutely nothing to start off with, his towel discarded and still on the bed from when he passed out.

"The same place you dropped me off."

God dammit, this fucking guy had you go to the other side of town just to be forgotten about.

It was finally settled: if George ever found out who this guy was, he'd kill him for doing this to you.

"Don't move. Be there in five." As soon as George hung up the phone, he took off to his room. He was ready in record time: under a minute. Up until the day he died, George wouldn't have been able to dress as quick as he did that night, and he never knew how he did it.

What really mattered was that George got to the other side of town in about five minutes, as he said over the phone.

George whipped into the parking lot and got out of the car. He hurried over to the front of the building to go in and search for you, but he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the curb as he grabbed the door handle.

His grip eased on the lockset, and he slowly turned to you. You were facing away from him, arms folded as you tried to shield yourself from the cool evening wind. You had no clue he was even behind you.

George sighed gently, shedding his jacket off and placing it on your shoulders without another word. He could see your whole body relax from the weighted piece of clothing, and he wondered if his scent was comforting for you too, as it was vice versa.

George heard you breathe out, but you sniffled afterwards. It broke his heart to see you like this. George looked around to see if anyone was watching, because if there was a chance this guy was cackling away in a parked car at the sight of you in tears, George would have had no problem kicking his headlights in and slashing his tires.

He dropped to the curb and sat down right next to you, not hesitating to circle his arm around your body.

At his touch, you curled yourself into a ball, and George scooped you up to squeeze you tight. And against his chest, when you knew you were safe from all harm, you gently sobbed.

George let you cry it all out, and the tighter you held onto him, the tighter he held onto you.

"Am I just unlovable George...? Is that it?" Your words were quiet and muffled, but George heard every syllable you mustered.

He pulled away from your embrace to look you in the eyes, and his grip on your arms were firm, but not tight. "Now Y/n, you do not for one second even think you're unlovable. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His eyebrows were lowered in anger at the very idea of you feeling unloved.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, and George's expression softened. He reached his hand up to your face, and he could feel you shaking. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow again.

George wished then more than ever that he was the one who was supposed to see you. He would have shown up.

"Y/n, you deserve so much better than this. If you were mine, I’d make sure sitting alone on the curb, stood up, would be the last place you'd ever find yourself, especially when you were so excited to go out..."

George didn't know where his little spurt of confidence came from, but he was more focused on the words he was choosing to use with you, and what he was all going to say.

"... If I were yours...?" You sniffled again, cheeks and the tip of your nose turning pink and George paused at the sudden realization.

You still had a chance to be his.

And all because that boy didn't show up, he still had time to figure out how he could pull it all off; but it had to be tonight.

He took a deep breath.

"I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you. I just... I sometimes wonder why you were never mine. Why you're not mine..." his voice lowered throughout the sentence, and the end of his confession was barely above a whisper.

You watched George for a moment, lips parted, as if you couldn't believe your ears, and the young man panicked a little, deciding to disregard his last words before it suddenly became the topic of discussion.

"Oh, my Love," George's eyes suddenly saddened as he reached out to wipe away your fresh tears and smeared makeup with his thumb. Your bottom lip trembled at the contact, and he sighed.

"Just because he didn't show up doesn't mean your evening has gone to waste." He stood up and turned to look down at you.

"The night is still young." He then held his hand out in front of you, and you looked at it for a moment as if you didn't know what he wanted from you.

"Y/n... give me one night. Let me show you how a man should always treat you."

He wasn't quite sure if he just unintentionally asked you on a real life date, or if you thought of all this as an act, but even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, it gave George the chance of a lifetime to at least pretend you were his, even if this opportunity only lasted one night.

"Please."

You didn't move at first, but George was patient. You eventually slowly reached your hand out, and George helped you up, not making the effort to let go of you afterwards.

George looked up at the restaurant, and did a double take. "... You... you don't even like fancy places like this, am I wrong?" All you could think about when looking at him was that he knew you so well.

"A place like this on a first date is a clear sign he'd leave halfway through and I'd be stuck with the bill." George smiled a little, and so did you.

You wiped your final stray tear from your cheek and George gave your other hand a squeeze. "... I'd rather get a burger and go for a walk, to be honest."

"Then that's what we'll do," George confirmed with a nod. It was settled, then.

George and you strolled to the car, still hand-in-hand, and he courteously opened your door to help you in. He ran over to the other side afterwards and climbed in behind the wheel before pulling out and taking off to find somewhere for you both to eat.

You both came across this quiet burger place downtown, and the both of you were able to get a booth in the back for privacy so you could both scarf down your meals in peace.

George ordered the same food you did, and you both settled on sharing a milkshake together (a single milkshake eventually became two).

"God," you looked around the nearly empty joint before turning your gaze back to George. "Do you know how much more comfortable I feel in here?"

"Even when you're dressed like you belong in a dress shop window?" George smiled around his straw and you matched his grin. "Shut up. At least my hair is brushed out."

The poor guy had no clue until now that he forgot to comb his hair out after his depression shower, embarrassingly clawing his fingers through his locks to at least tidy up the mess on his head.

You just laughed out that you were teasing him, and the joyous hiccups from your laughter had George briefly forgetting everything negative that had happened so far that night.

After settling down a little, your food was brought out and you both started eating.

There wasn't much for the both of you to talk about other than the part of your day when you weren't together, and it wasn't like George wanted to mention what happened to him in the last two hours or make you upset by talking about your night.

Instead you both settled on joking about old times. Before the both of you knew it, George had you giggling and smiling once again before your dessert even came, and when the waitress came around to your table with your two-person cookie skillet, you grinned even wider.

You thanked the waitress before she went on her way, and you looked up across the treat to George, whom you were half expecting to be drooling over the cookie. Instead, he was in a dream-like trance, soft gaze fixed on you, and only you. You weren't too sure if he even knew the skillet was in front of him, he was so distracted.

"George...?" You called to him gently as to not frighten him when coming back down to reality. His response was almost immediate, like he could hear you.

And maybe he did.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know how many times I've tried to say this already tonight but have chickened out, but you look just..." George was examining every inch of you that he could see and you blushed, casting your eyes down to the table.

"Angel, look at me." George reached over the table and rested his hand over yours. You lifted your head to look him in the eye, and he hesitated for a moment. Your full attention flustered him, then again it always did, but he took a deep breath.

"You look heavenly, Y/n."

You said nothing. This time, he had you speechless, but nothing wasn't the response he was looking for.

"Dontcha believe me...?" His question echoed through your brain, and you blinked. George scanned your eyes after giving your hand a squeeze. He knew you had something to say, and he was at the edge of his seat in anticipation for your words.

"... Do you really think so?"

"Are you kidding me?! Y/n, I... when you came out of your room tonight I just... looking at you right now, I'm at a loss for words. Heavenly doesn't even scratch the surface. No word exists that perfectly describes how you look to me. Now, or ever."

There was yet another spurt of confidence that washed over George. He had a feeling his words and actions were getting the both of you somewhere, especially when his final sentence had you blushing the way you were.

At least he knew he was doing something right.

George's grip on your hand tightened a little, and he flipped your hands over so your palm was face-up in his. He brought your hand closer to him, and he kissed your fingertips before leaving a final one at the centre of your palm. His eyes never left your red face as he did this, and he grinned against your hand when you offered him a shy smile.

Oh... she IS actually liking this.

When he pulled away, George looked down at the still-untouched dessert, and he smiled, releasing another nervous breath he was holding as he finally let go of your hand. "Let's finish up so we can go on our walk. Sound good, my Love?"

You only nodded before digging in with him, every nudge of his hand against yours reducing you to a blushing mess, and George, who was gaining more confidence as every second passed, would just smile to himself knowing he was successfully turning the tables on you.

But it wasn't yet the time to give in and confess, as much as George wanted to. He still had a nice long walk to woo you on, and then he had to do the important step of walking you to your apartment door at the end of the night, and God knows that was the part he was dying to get to.

You finished your dessert not long after and George payed the bill. After helping you out of the booth, you'd left hand-in-hand again.

The both of you stepped out into the cool night and you looked up at George. "Are you cold? Did you want your jacket back?"

You were holding it in your other hand since you'd taken it off at dinner, and you shoved it in his direction without another word.

He laughed and took the jacket from you, unfolding it and pulling it back around your shoulders before rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm.

"You'll catch a cold without it. Besides, you look better in it anyways." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, smiling proudly to himself when he pulled away and continued to lead you to the car, deciding it'd be smoother to not turn around and gauge for a reaction from you.

Like before, George courteously opened the car door for you, and closed it when you were in. Their destination was his place. It wasn't for the reason one would think, but the idea of driving you to his home and inviting you in with every intention of walking right past the kettle made George's legs restless.

In reality there was a park down the road from his flat that cut pretty much directly to your own humble abode. You'd walked the trail hundreds of times together to look at the pretty flowers growing in the garden, but something told George that this time, like everything else happening that day, was going to be very different.

When you pulled up to his building he raced you to get to your door for the second time of the night; the first being at the burger place when you first arrived. He took your hand and helped you out of the car, and he didn't let go, even after locking the doors to his car and leading you both down the road.

There was a silence that fell between the both of you. It wasn't bad. You took this time to think about your night, as did George. With every step down the road and into the park you took, the smile on your face only grew wider. As for George, he began to sweat with every step he took.

Every foot forward led him closer and closer to your door, where he was going to finally let everything off his chest and confess to you. The problem was that George's confidence was quickly draining, and this was something he needed to do.

He eventually let go of your hand to wipe his palms off on his pant leg, and at the immediate loss of contact, you were turning to him with a confused look on your face.

"Sorry uh..." he breathed out slowly, cheeks dusted pink. "I-I don't know why, but I'm kinda nervous."

Your look of confusion faded into an unreadable one. "Was it holding my hand?"

George shook his head. "No no, not that, I want to hold your hand."

"So what's the problem?"

He just shook his head again. "Maybe it's just... the stress of making sure tonight is perfect for you."

"What?!" Your reaction was sudden, and George's eyebrows were raised high up on his forehead at your exclamation.

"George, tonight has already been perfect for me! I had a great meal, I'm on a lovely walk with you..." you reached out to take his hand again, and he lifted his gaze from his shoes to look you in the eye. You smiled up at him from under the streetlight, and George smiled back a little.

"Georgie, I would never have asked for a better night." You squeezed his fingers with yours and tugged him forward gently. "C'mon, Magpie. Let's get home. It'll be cooling down soon, and I don't want you walking outside much longer than needed tonight."

George followed behind, but you still took your time coming home since the both of you got caught up in another conversation. This time, it was about the flowers you were passing in the park.

"... I used to water those for you, y'know." He pointed to a cluster of marigolds. To think that was ten years earlier and they still stayed put, growing outwards and stronger than ever.

"I used to check on them every day to make sure they weren't dying. You told me one time you really liked those flowers and I just..." he smiled a little at the memory. "I just couldn't get enough of your smile every time you saw them."

You turned to look up at him. You had absolutely no clue he did that for you. It made you love the flowers even more, and your heart jumped a little when you realized that the marigolds were the very reason George insisted you both took the trail all the tine.

"I'll still come across them when passing flower shops. I always think of you when I see them."

"Wow. George, I... I never knew you paid that much attention to me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my best friend."

And George didn't say anything after that, especially when you didn't respond to his last comment, which he didn't even mean to say.

By the time George could think up a sentence to save himself from friend-zoning the both of you right then and there, he felt like he'd left it for too long.

His heart was sinking, and he tried to shake off the comment best he could, and walked you the rest of the way home.

His stomach was in a knot as he looked up at your apartment building. The front door to the lobby looked intimidating, and his palms began to sweat again. You slipped your hand out of George's, and it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

"You think I'm gonna just leave you here?" His question was sudden, and you blinked once.

"I'm sorry?" You looked from George, to the apartment door which was ten feet away from the both of you. "But George, I'm home?"

"I have to walk you to your door." You laughed at his response, head thrown back as you sighed. "You mean to tell me you, George Harrison, are gonna walk up five flights of stairs in the next two minutes just to make sure you can hear me lock my door and know I'm safe?"

"Would it be a real date if I didn't?"

There was another beat of silence as George watched your eyes shift from left to right in thought. You pursed your lips a little, and then looked him in the eye.

"... Suppose it wouldn't be then, no."

"Then may I walk you to your door, Y/n?"

You finally answered him with a simple nod of your head, and George reached out to take your hand again. He wordlessly led you to the door which he opened for you, and then brought you to the flight of stairs. Nowhere else to go but up.

In about two minutes, you and George got to the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the hall, it felt like the walls were slowly closing together as you both took quiet, careful steps towards the end of the way.

The entire time, your hands were glued together, and no one let go, even when you were both finally stopped, and standing in front of your door.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Y/n. I know you were saying earlier tonight turned out perfect and everything but..." George's brain was still on that platonic comment he made on the walk.

"George, there is no one I would have rather spent tonight with than you. No one."

George squeezed your hand, and then sighed. "I just wish tonight happened under different circumstances."

"Different circumstances?" You repeated a little confused, and the boy in front of you pursed his lips and nodded his head.

Deep breaths. Here it goes.

"Y/n, ever since I found out about this date, my blood has just been boiling with jealousy for that boy. Hell, I still don't even know his name and I could tell you he isn't good for you."

You looked taken aback. Jealousy was definitely not where you thought he was going with all of this.

"I fell in love with you, Y/n. Years ago. And because I feared rejection, I didn't want to take my chances and say anything. But the truth of the matter is that I'd be the happiest person alive just to be able to love you openly. I can't stand to see you cry the way he made you tonight."

Again, you stood there, no words coming to mind to respond with. Your silence didn't make George stop.

"To think for years my feelings for you haven't gone away. I've always thought you felt the same, yet you were never mine." George paused. "When can this boy get you back again, Y/n?"

There was a long silence, his eyes searching yours for your answer, and you were staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

"I-- if I'd known-- I never thought-- George, I had no clue." He could see the lost look on your face, and it made his heart ache, especially when your lip began to tremble and your eyes started filling to the brim with tears.

"Why do you think I turned down every guy who's tried to get with me? I just... I never thought you'd love me back, Georgie." His emotions sank into a deep dark guilt. All this time, and you felt the same way about him...

And then he blinked.

You feel the same way about him!

George reached out to you, his hand cupping the side of your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your tears began to fall, and he pulled you into his chest tightly for a moment. "My Love," he mumbled, pulling away just far enough for him to see your face again.

"Oh, even when you're crying, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on..." There was a beat of nothing; just the sound of shallow breaths shared between the both of you before George began to inch in slowly towards you.

"... George, what are you doing...?" Your question was gentle, and you didn't stop him from coming any closer. You didn't want to stop him.

"Something I should've done a long time ago."

His attention fixated to your mouth once before your lips finally clashed together.

For over a decade, George had waited for the moment he tasted your lips; and now that it was here, he was almost scared he wouldn't know what to do.

The both of you were holding your breath since you both felt a little unsure at first, but it was a given, he was kissing his childhood best friend, and you were, too. You kissed back a little, and George exhaled lightly through his nose, a little relieved knowing you were getting a little more comfortable with the situation.

George's hands fell to your waist, fingers curling around your body as he eventually pulled you even closer. You parted your lips a little, and he bit down on your bottom lip, pulling away after hearing you gasp.

"Oh! Did I hurt you? I'm--" George could barely rush an apology out before you pulled him down to kiss him again, and pushing him backwards until his back was flat against your door. He watched as you closed the space between you again, and your lips were on his again.

His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and all the boy could remember thinking about was how blissful it all was in that moment. George threw his arms around you and started pushing back just a little.

You pulled away from him to gasp in a breath, George's hands grabbing your arms and pinning you against your door so he could put you in the place he was moments before; to give you the moment to experience just a fraction of all the love he would be able to eventually give to you.

His lips briefly found the crook of your neck and you moaned quietly as George sucked at your skin a little, which only resulted in him pulling away just to lean back in to kiss your lips and swallow your pleasant hums.

You eventually pulled away to face him again, lips swelled and pink, and breaths quick. You never thought you'd have so much trouble breathing while kissing someone.

Then again, it's not everyday that the man you're kissing is George Harrison.

"I know it's rare to ask this on a first date but..." George leaned down to attach his lips to the column of your throat, and he hummed against your skin when you moaned gently, delaying your question for a moment.

"... Did you maybe wanna, I don't know, come in, stick around for some tea?"

"Is that even a question?" George asked lowly against your neck, and you smiled. You reached into your purse to retrieve your apartment keys, which you blindly stuck into the keyhole since George was back to kissing you again, and the both of you stumbled through the door as soon as you got it open.

You and George kicked your shoes off after shutting the door, and you pushed him up against the wall in the front corridor to kiss him once again.

Ten years was way too long for the both of you to be deprived of one another any further, and George gladly let you migrate your lips to his neck after a moment, tilting his head back for you to make things a little easier.

With your head buried into his neck and your arms circled around one another, George lazily opened this eyes to watch himself in that same mirror across the hall he looked into a few hours prior.

All the boy could do was smile to himself, breathing heavily as he watched your reflection switch to the other side of his neck after leaving a mark on the right side of his throat.

Not only was his reflection successful in this date tonight, but George himself pulled off the biggest risk he could imagine and it paid off.

He finally got the girl of his dreams.

----------------------------------------

A/A/N: honestly, this fic lives rent free in my head and it has been since I wrote it, so I gotta show it off to y'all. Again, I know it was long, but I really hope you enjoy it <3

PERMENANT TAG LIST

@culturefiendtrashqueen

@rogermeddow

(message me if you want to be added to any of my oneshot/queen/beatles/chapter taglists)

#the beatles #john lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #paul mccartney x reader #george harrison #george harrison x reader #ringo starr #ringo starr x reader #paul mccharmly

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arcanestage · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request Julius x Reader with the prompt "You're telling me you believe in love at first sight?" "I'm starting too." 🥺👉👈💕💕

hi anshi 💓 i’m so happy to finally write for julius!! i’m so sorry it took a while 😭 here’s a photo of soft smiling julius :3

Pairing: Julius x fem!reader

Prompt: “You’re telling me you believe in love at first sight?” “I’m starting too.”

Warnings: none

Julius is considered to be the busiest man in all of Clover Kingdom. Piles of paperwork await him every waking day of his life, and to top it all off, Marx is always there to nag him. Despite the demands of his work, there are sides of being Wizard King that he absolutely enjoys like witnessing awe-inspiring magic, and running into interesting people.

Julius has met a ton of people while wandering around the kingdom disguised as someone else. Out of all of them, you by far were his favorite.

You were tasked to manage and watch over your family’s food stall for the day. Your sister needed to rest after contracting a relatively mild illness. During your stall’s down time, a small old lady approached you.

“Hello there pretty dear, those egg tarts look scrumptious! I’ll buy a dozen,”

You happily boxed her order then handed it over. When she handed her payment you kindly refused.

“Oh no, it’s alright. It’s not everyday the Wizard King comes to visit our shop,”

The old lady froze and laughed nervously. “How did you— I mean, um you tell good jokes young lady!”

You laughed. “Well, if you must know I pay attention to my surroundings and my intuitions have never failed me,”

She tried to play cool. “Ah very helpful! Especially si—“

She was cut off by the loud ringing of her communication device. Before you could ask about it, she was already gone.

————

As you were packing and closing up, you sensed a familiar mana nearby. You turned around expecting to see the sweet old lady from a while ago but was confronted with no other than the Wizard King himself. He wore a brown cloak, its hood above his head to somewhat conceal his identity. He smiled sheepishly, one hand held up to wave at you. You bowed and paid your respect.

“What brings you here, Wizard King?” you smiled at him in amusement.

“Oh nothing really,” he scratched his head. “I was just strolling around when I remembered an old woman telling me she met a kind lady who owned one of the stalls in this street. And please, call me Julius.”

“And you knew that lady was me?”

He froze for moment, his gaze steady on his shoes as if it would suddenly jolt to life and whisper to him a good excuse.

“You do look like you fit the description. You look kind to me,”

You laughed and shook your head. Commoners didn’t have much going on in their lives except having to struggle and survive everyday. Having this pleasant conversion with Julius was a break from your tedious routine. You’d cherish it forever.

“Well I hope you enjoyed the egg tarts Julius,”

Julius laughed, his voice laced with hesitation. His brain frantically trying to conjure up another lame excuse but he knew that you could see right through him.

Folks have always said Julius was one of a kind. He was cheerful, down to earth, and kind to nobles and commoners alike. They were right of course, he really was something else, something you enjoyed having as company.

“I’ll be heading home now. You should get some rest too Julius. I know you had a long day being Wizard King and all,”

“Wait, I didn’t catch your name,”

“It’s Y/N,”

What a lovely name, Julius thought

“Okay Y/N, please let me accompany you home.”

Your eyes widened, not really expecting him to extend his help. “It’s okay, you don’t have to... I know you’re a busy man,”

He flashed one of his charming smiles. “I insist,”

You tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Alright but it’s a long way home,”

“My feet has taken me to faraway places when running away from Marx. I think I’ll manage,” he said with utmost pride and confidence.

The trek back to your village wasn’t as tiresome as you remembered it to be. Perhaps it was because you enjoyed listening to Julius rambling about his experiences while exploring the kingdom.

“How do you even manage to slip past Marx?” you asked.

“It depends,” he scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. “The easiest would be slipping out the window while he’s out eating lunch. Or wait for him to fall asleep on his desk,”

You laughed. “You really are something else,”

“How so?” he taunted in a playful manner.

“Just by hearsay. This is the first time I’ve seen you in the flesh you know.”

Julius hummed in response.

“Don’t worry, I’ve never heard a single negative thing going around about you.”

“That’s a relief,” He chuckled. “But I would like to know what you think about me.”

You smiled at him in amusement, quite perplexed at his sudden interest in how you saw him.

“This is the type of questions men usually ask in mixers,” you gave out a hearty laugh.

Heat rose up to his cheeks.

“Don’t you think it’s possible? Feeling this connection to a person just by looking at them?”

You thought for a while, listening to the crunch of the ground at each step you and Julius made.

“Wait, so you’re telling me you believe in love at first sight?”

The cool night breeze howled and whistled making you pull your cloak closer to your body as you await for a response from Julius.

“I guess I do. I mean it doesn’t have to be as deep as love. It could be a connection, perhaps a spark. What do you think?”

You were quiet again, trying to make sense of everything Julius had said so far. Julius on the other hand had his eyes on you. He looked at you with fondness as if you were lovers from your past lives.

“My mother believed in that,” you said, finally breaking the silence. “Destiny, fate, and some form of higher-order being governing over us. No matter how much you work against it, it still will find its way to you.”

You reached your front door and halted. You turned to face Julius, the “farewell” “thank you” and “be safe” already at the tip of your tongue. The moment you locked eyes with him, you felt it: the spark he was talking about. It was as if there exists a string with you on one end and him on the other. Now you’ve found your way to each other.

You were frozen in place, hypnotized by the softness of his features, and the glimmer of his eyes.

He too had been mesmerized by you and the way your hair swayed with the wind. In your eyes he saw it: a million possible futures with you. He felt the spark that morning he met you. He knew he couldn’t let you get away.

“I think... I think I’m starting to believe in it too,” you shyly proclaimed.

Maybe meeting him wasn’t an accident. Maybe it was the universe working to bring you two together.

He smiled, placing a his warm hand on your cheek.

“I have to go. We’ll see each other soon Y/N, I’ll make sure of that.”

You squeezed his hand. “You know where to find me,”

He placed a light kiss on your forehead then he was gone.

————

i was listening taylor swift’s invisible string when i wrote the last part 🥰 oh to be in love and be loved by THE julius novachrono 🥲

#julius x reader #julius novachrono x reader #black clover fanfiction #black clover imagines #black clover scenarios #black clover headcanons #black clover x reader #julius novachrono #black clover

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Push

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, mentions of violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your daddy’s in business with the Sheriff but a dirty cop has not limits.

Note: This is my first Lee Bodecker fic. Obviously it’s a dark on so mind the warnings. Lee is just awful. Like what a bastard, the worst!

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

‘She said "I don't know if I've ever been good enough I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in”’

-Push, Matchbox Twenty

🚔

You traced the small crack along the lip of the plate. The dinner set your mother had been so proud of was wearing away. Everything had started to since her death. The farmhouse seemed darker, more desolate amid the sentinel pines, your father's shed more sinister though the childhood tales of what was within had long since been dispelled. The walls shuddered with each gust of late autumn air.

The house was empty but for you. Your brothers were at about their usual business, Arn and Cal at work at yard and Will in his classes, though more likely bumming cigarettes behind the church. Your father had rumbled off in his old Ford pick-up not an hour ago but hadn't given you a reason. He never did and it was better that way. Better you didn't ask questions or speak out of turn. Focus on yourself, in the work that needed to be done as the men bustled in and out of your purview.

You set the plate on the mat to dry, a soapy bubble dripped down the back as you plunged your hand back into the water. You piled the dishes one after the other, scrubbing and scouring. The clink of the thick glass painted with faded petals and the old silverware was thunderous in the chilly kitchen.

You heard an engine, quieter than your father's cantankerous truck. The gravel mulched under the tires and you grabbed a rag to dry your hands as you walked through the front door. You peeked out the window as the cruiser pulled up; the old black and white with its blue and red crown.

Sheriff Bodecker came around maybe once every two weeks. You didn't keep track, you never spoke to him. Your daddy always took him to the shed for a beer and a chat. The uniform took a cut of the profits from your father's sill. The moonshine sold better than the beer sold at the store in town but wasn't allowed on the shelves. the lawman turned his eye for a percentage and the occasional jug of the brew.

You watched the sheriff brace himself against his door and lift himself out of the car. His jacket was zipped up against the impending winter but could barely contain his stomach. He reached into his car and plopped his hat on his head before he slammed the door. His boots were just as loud as his tires as he rounded the vehicle and paced towards your daddy's shed.

He turned back, hands on his hips, and peered across the empty lot. The big blue truck always greeted visitors, not that there were many. You watched the sheriff retreat and as he neared the porch, you let go of the curtain and pressed yourself to the door.

Your brothers and your father were the only people in your life. You minded the house and spent your spare time with one of your mama's old books or a needle and thread.

The door shook as he knocked. You blinked and slowly turned. You grabbed the handle but didn't pull. He must have known your daddy wasn't there. A fool could guess that.

He banged again and you twisted the knob. Slowly, you pulled the door open just a crack. You looked through with one eye as the sheriff felt around impatiently in his pockets.

"Daddy ain't here," you said quietly.

He tilted his head and grinned. He scoffed and ripped his hand out of his jacket.

"I guessed that. Be a shit officer if I couldn't," he snickered. "Pardon the language, miss."

"I don't know when he'll be back," you said.

"I got time," he checked his watch.

There was a moment of silence as he looked at you. You gulped, uncertain.

"Sorry, we don't get many visitors. Guess I should invite you in… I got coffee? Tea?"

He considered you through the inch between the frame and the door. "You gonna have to open up for that," he said, "you got anything sweet?"

"Some leftover cake from Arn's birthday. It's probably stale." You answered as he placed his hand flat on the door. "It's strawberry cream."

"Mm, you make it yourself?" He asked as his other hand rested on his belt.

"Mama's recipe," you explained.

"Well,” he pushed on the door, "Can I come in then or am I eatin' on the porch?"

You stared at him and slowly stepped back as he put more weight against the door. He dropped his arm as you were flush to the wall and he stepped inside. You looked at his boots as he pulled the door from your grasp and threw it shut behind him. He chuckled as he turned to you again and looked at his feet.

“Not meaning to mess up your floors, miss,” he wiped the treads on the mat.

“It’s fine. My brothers never did care much either,” you waved away his words and retreated, “I’ll get you that cake.”

You went to the kitchen and took the glass lid of the cake dish. That was your mother’s too. The long crack up the side made you want to cry. If she could see how the life she’d left behind had become so distorted. You took a plate from the mat and dried it before you laid it out. You cut a slice from the cake and carefully angled it onto the saucer.

“Should I put the kettle on?” You asked as you looked over your shoulder.

He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over a chair before he sat. The wood groaned under him. He put his hat on the table decisively.

“You got milk? I had a coffee on the way.” He sat back in the chair and spread his legs wide.

“Milk,” you repeated as you neared and set the plate on the table then grabbed a fork from the drawer. You handed him the silver then went to the fridge, “Should be enough.”

You poured him a glass and put it down beside the plate as he greedily cut a bite out of the sponge with his fork. You went back to the sink and stuck your hands in the tepid water as you fished out the last few bowls and scrubbed them one at a time. You could hear him chewing behind you as the metal hit the porcelain with each bite.

“You really don’t entertain much, do you?” He asked.

“Sheriff?” you pulled the stopped and grabbed the dish towel to dry your hands.

“You know, I go ‘round folks’ houses and the wives, they smile, flip their hair, even excuse themselves to powder up,” he remarked, “And here you are doing your washing. Your back to me and everything.”

“I told my daddy I’d have ‘em done,” you shrugged. “Besides, I wasn’t expecting ya.”

“I rarely announce myself to shiners,” he rolled his eyes, “Must be quite the life, hmm? You cleaning up behind four boys. You look old enough to have a man of your own to worry about.”

“Maybe,” you wrung the dish towel.

“Most girls your age are outta their daddy’s house and settled down with a babe on their hip. Even two.” He said.

You frowned. “Well, Sheriff Bodecker, are you married?”

He squinted and tilted his head. He smirked and said ‘no’.

“You’re older than me. Maybe you’re the one who’s overdue.”

“Not too old,” he stabbed the last morsel of cake.

You turned away and grabbed a cup and wiped it dry. You went about drying each piece as he sat quietly. You sensed his gaze as you put away the dishes. The tension mounted as you snapped shut the cupboard and he tapped the plate with the fork.

You were relieved when you heard the gravel crunching outside. Your daddy was back. The putter of his old truck was a welcoming sound.

“That should be him,” you said as you went to the table and picked up his plate.

He set the fork atop it and grabbed your wrist before you could back away. “You take good care of a man.”

You swallowed and resisted the urge to pull away. “Not too many men can take care of themselves,” you uttered.

He laughed and let you go. He stood and you quickly scurried away to dump the plate in the sink. “Probably right,” he said as he took his jacket and pulled it on, “Definitely not in the ways a woman can take care of a man.”

You turned the faucet as the front door clattered. “Sherriff?” You father called down the hall, “You in here?”

“Here, Rhett,” He flipped his hat on and winked at you, “Son of a bitch, I’ve been waiting long enough.”

🚔

There was a cluster of brambles deep in the woods. A carpet of red, orange, and yellow leaves slowly wilted to brown beneath your feet as you climbed through the brush. You clutched your basket in one hand, your fingers cold even inside your gloves as the winter crept nearer with each day.

You were the old scarf with the uneven edges. The first one you knitted yourself after your mama had shown you how. Your fleece jacket was hand-me-down from Cal, the sleeves were too long and it puffed out from your body when you zipped it, an old oil stain along the left side. Your skirt, your own creation from two of your mama’s, hung to your knees, your stocking barely thick enough to keep out the chill. The heel of your right boot flopped as it threatened to fall off entirely and made the trek all the more treacherous.

You tossed walnuts into your basket every now and then if they weren’t crushed or caked in mud. The trees muffled all noise the deeper you got and the trees loomed darker above. You stopped at the overgrowth of leaves and vines. Blackberries and raspberries hung plump in the last harvest of the season. You preferred the wild berries to the grocers; they were larger and juicier.

You set down your basket as you pushed through the sharp, thin branches and began to pick. You knelt to grab those hidden at the bottom, dumping handfuls atop your collection of walnuts.

You heard a rustle behind you. Subtle, soft. More likely a deer than a bear. You peeked over your shoulder but didn’t give much heed to the disturbance. There was always some creature flitting around in the forest. You tuned back to your work, your gloves dappled with the dark juices of the berries as some were so soft the burst on touch.

The bushes behind you shook and a twig snapped.

“What you doing out here all alone? I thought you were a bear.”

You stood as you recognized the voice. You dropped the berries in your hand into the basket before you turned and clapped off your gloves. “I thought the same of you.” You blanched as you saw his gun in hand. “You hunting out here with that?”

Sheriff Bodecker looked down at his pistol and scoffed. “Maybe,” he looked up as he kept his gun in hand, “How you know about these berries?”

“They’re wild. There for the taking,” you turned back and pushed through the brambles as you plucked berries from the bunch, “Mama used to take us here when we we’re kids.”

“You lookin’ to make another cake?” His boots crushed the leaves and sticks as he neared.

“Conserves; jams,” you answered bluntly as your basket filled with each handful. “Too bad strawberries are all gone for the season.”

You sensed him watching you as you stooped again. He reached down to your basket and took a raspberry. He popped it in his mouth as he straightened. You glanced over, his gun was pointed at the ground but still in hand. He knocked it gently against his leg as if thinking.

“Tart,” he said, “I prefer strawberry. Sweeter.”

“Mmm,” you grumbled as you dug through the bush, “Well, they charge too much down at the grocer for ‘em.”

It was quiet but for you pushing past the bramble and filling your basket. You could hear him breathing above you as he watched, transfixed by your simple ritual.

“Never told me why you’re all the way out here,” you said as you contented yourself with your haul. “Should I be worried? Some criminal out here hiding in the branches?”

“Sitting by the river on my break, as I do,” he shrugged as you lifted your basket. “It’s a far way back to your daddies. My cruiser’s closer. I can take you home.”

“I prefer the walk. Gives me an excuse to be away.” You smiled and made to step past him.

“We can take our time,” he caught your arm.

“Thank you, Sheriff, but I can find my own way back.”

He turned you to him and raised his gun. His eyes searched your face as he pressed the muzzle to your cheek.

“Ain’t much on the first look but after a while, you’re not so bad,” he said as you stiffened, “If you didn’t dress like a matron, you might even be pretty.” His gun fell to the collar of the jacket. “Usually men don’t offer favours to girls who ain’t pretty.”

“Let go of me,” you pleaded softly, “Sheriff…”

He pointed his gun skyward and released you. He holstered the pistol and laughed to himself.

“You go on lift up that skirt and give me a good look. Then I’ll drive you back to your daddy’s. You have my word as an officer of the law.”

“Pardon--”

“Shhh,” his hand lingered on the pistol, playing with the little strap that would snap it into place, “No one needs to know. Just a peek.”

“Sheriff--”

“Girl,” he cleared his throat, “Ya gonna do what I tell you or I’m gonna make you do worse. Now go on.”

He snatched the basket out of your hand and you let out your breath, relieved at least that he no longer had his fingers on his pistol.

“It’s cold out--”

“You argue with your daddy this much? He don’t seem the type to bide it and let me tell you, he seems a lot more tolerant than me.” He took another berry and chewed it, “So lift your skirt and we’ll be on our way.”

You stared at him. He smirked and licked the dark juice away from his lip. You hands shook as you bent and clumsily felt your skirt. You gathered the hem and stood. You bunched up the fabric around the bottom of the coat and he tutted in satisfaction.

“Turn around for me, girl,” he softly swung the basket, “Bend over so I can get a nice look at you.”

“Sher--”

“I really don’t wanna knock ya around and you don’t want that either,” he warned. “Two seconds. That’s all it will take.”

You gulped as bile burned your throat. You turned, careful not to catch the loose heel of your boot, and held your breath. You bent forward slowly.

“Further,” he ordered. The thin cotton of your underwear stretched across your ass. “Well, you got a much nicer backside than I expected.”

You let out a sharp breath as he pinched your ass and you stood suddenly. You stumbled forward and dropped your skirts. He laughed as you spun to face him. He shoved the basket against your chest.

“See how easy that was,” he leered at you as you took the basket. “Who you hidin’ that body from? Maybe your daddy’s a selfish man, hmmm? Keeping you from all the men.”

“Can we go?” You muttered as you tried to hide behind the basket.

His blue eyes bore into yours and he shifted on his feet. His hand rubbed the front of his pants as he side stepped you.

“Sure, cruisers ‘round the bend.” He waved you past him and waited. “Come on, you said you wanted to go.”

You walked past him along the trail and he followed, close as his loud breaths filled the air. He pointed you down the path with curt orders and you came into sight of the broad river. His car was parked just off the sideroad that led back to the town.

His keys jingled as he brushed by you, dragging his hand across your rear as he did. He opened the passenger door and looked at you. You neared and quickly got in, sitting on the long seat within. He closed the door harshly and rounded to the other side. The car dipped with his weight and he shoved the keys in the slot.

“Come here,” he gestured with two fingers, “Closer.”

“What?”

“Put the berries down,” he pointed to the other side of you and you placed the basket on the seat.

“I should be home sooner than later. I gotta start cooking--”

“I’ll get you there,” he grabbed your arm and slid you over the seat. He flipped his hat off and dropped it over the basket. He slung his arm over your shoulders. “Go on, put me in first.”

He gripped the wheel with his other hand and you blinked dumbly. You realised what he meant and pushed the shifted into gear.

“You cold? You’re shivering,” He said as he carefully turned the car, “Just tryna warm you up, girl.”

“I’m fine,” you crossed your arms as he drove at a snail's pace up the dirt road.

“I’m cold,” he gave an exaggerated ‘brrr’, “Do me a favour. Unzip me.”

“What?” You tried to pull away and he bent his arm around your neck, his hand along your chest as your head was nearly on his.

“I’m hard as fuck. You did that. Now take care of it.” He growled. “Get these damn pant unzipped and finish it.”

“Let go--”

“You don’t start listening and I’ll tell you’re daddy what a whore you are. Up in the woods flaunting your ass to the wind.”

You stared down at your stitched skirt. Your mama’s. You only wore her clothes. They were modest. You’d once worn a dress your friend Laverne had given you, more modern, with a shorter skirt. Your daddy belted you until it was ruined.

Your hands trembled as you felt along the Sheriff’s stomach and fumbled beneath. You unbuckled his belt clumsily and found his fly ready to burst. You pushed his zipper down as he groaned and he lifted his arm over the seat. His underwear was tight to his bulging cock.

“Now don’t keep wastin’ my time and take me out,” he snarled.

You pulled the elastic down and he popped out above it. You hesitated as you stared at his throbbing tip.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do.” You confessed.

“Christ, girl,” he snickered, “Grab it and just… move your hand.”

You shuddered and wrapped your fingers around his cock. It was as thick as the rest of him. You gripped it but still had no idea what to do next.

“Up and down. Like your polishing a shotgun,” he urged, “A nice long barrel.” You bit down and slid your hand along his length. “Tighter,” he gritted through his teeth, “Faster…”

He purred as you played with him. He drove a little faster and steered with one hand as his other hand clawed the back of the seat.

“Fuckin’ don’t know, girl, feels like you know exactly what to you,” he uttered, “Got me close already.”

You stared at the middle of the steering wheel, the silver emblem, and tried not to think about what you were doing. His hand fell to your back and he caressed the back of your coat. He grasped the cloth in his fist as his grunts grew louder and longer.

“Grab that coffee cup,” he demanded, “Go on, you don’t wanna make a mess.”

You took the cup with one hand and popped the top off with your thumb. It flew onto the floor and he hummed.

“Hold it at the tip, before--” He choked on his words and you quickly moved the cup.

He hit the brake and white ribbons streamed from his cock and laced the rim of the cup and your fingers. White globs slid down the paper and you slowed as a chill went through you. You pulled away your slimy hand and the cup. He took the latter and tossed it out the window and sighed.

“Shit, girl, that was good,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He wiped his glistening cock before covering himself up and zipping up his pants. “Get cleaned up.” He tossed the cloth on your lap, “Not far from home, now.”

🚔

Your days passed like molasses. Ever since your venture into the forest, your life slowed to an interminable pace. Your thoughts were darkened by the sheriff’s shadow. You scrubbed, scoured, and swept but could not rid yourself of the memory. The scene played over and over in your head. You swore you could feel him still spread across the palm of your hand.

A week after, when he drove up behind the boys on their return from town, you watched through the window in dread. Cal, Arn, and Will hopped out of the truck and greeted the sheriff. The four of them went to the shed where your daddy was, the latter peeked over at the house as he passed.

You were reassured that your brothers were there. The sheriff wouldn’t, really couldn’t, try anything more. You went back to basting the thick chops. As you made to cap your homemade sauce, the back door opened and your daddy looked in from the mud room.

“You bring out some glasses for the lot of us. And put an extra chop on for the sheriff,” your father slurred. He’d already started drinking. “He be joining us tonight.”

He left before you could respond. He usually drank his swill out of old jars and saved your mother’s dishes. You coated another chop in spice and set it with the rest before slipping them in the oven. You washed your hands and counted out five glasses. You hugged them in your arms and stepped into your boots.

You pushed the screen door open with your elbow and tramped down the steps. You crossed to the shed and kicked the door with your boot. “Daddy,” you called through the wood.

Will slid open the shed door and you stepped inside. You went to the table and placed the glasses down on the old chipped surface. You stood and looked around. Your father filled each with the clear shine from a large jar.

“Isn’t he a bit young?” You said as Will sat back down.

“Not your business, woman,” your daddy spat, “Go back in the house. To your business.”

“Yes, daddy.” You sniffed and looked at Will. He gave an apologetic smile but none of your brothers ever stood up against your daddy.

“Lady not joining us?” Bodecker asked.

“Ha, that girl gets a whiff of this stuff and she’d be on her back. This ain’t no drink for ladies,” your daddy chortled. “About time you tried it. What you been doin’ will all that swill I give ya.”

“Boys at the station like it. I think they’re some of your best customers, ain’t they?” Bodecker countered. “Besides, I been tryna stay clear of the drink.”

“One night won’t hurt,” your daddy coaxed.

You went back to the door and slid it shut behind you as the men continued to chatter. Well, they would at least drink themselves too senseless to bother you much.

🚔

You cleared the table of the empty plates and scraps left by the drunken men. They had been loud and raucous, so much so you’d eaten your dinner at the counter to avoid them. When they finished, they left in a stumble, though the sheriff seemed as steady as ever as he trailed behind. He stopped at the door as he held it and peered back from the mud room at you.

You washed the dishes and put them away. You wiped down the table and fixed the chairs around it. The night was moonless and eerie. The wind wailed and shook each window and door in the house as it seemed to blow right through the walls.

The mud room door clattered again. It had been over an hour since the men returned to the shed. Their voices no longer carried in the air but the shed remained alight from within. You turned as Bodecker closed the door. He carried a tall glass of swill as he stopped in the door frame.

“Lightweights,” he said, “All your men passed out. Think one of ‘em pissed in their pants.”

“You’re drunk,” you said as you kept behind the table.

“Not really. I couldn’t finish mine,” he crossed to the other side of the table and set down the glass, “Why don’t you finish it for me?”

“I don’t drink that stuff,” you said, “Dump it out on the grass.”

“You work so hard. You should have a little fun,” he rounded the table and slid the glass across it as he neared, “Come on. Have a drink.”

“I don’t--” He grabbed you suddenly, wrestled you down into a chair and held you there by your shoulders.

He lifted one hand and felt around his belt. He flicked his holster open and rubbed the pistol with his thumb.

“Drink it.” You watched his hand on his gun. He slid it out just a little. “Ugly things men do when they drinking. “Playing with guns… sometimes don’t always end up so fun. Don’t think the young one would make it in the hold.”

“No, you--”

“Drink,” he sneered. “It’ll loosen you up.”

You reached for the glass and he nodded. He snapped his holster closed and pulled a chair over to sit in front of you. You put your lips to the edge of the glass and the alcohol stung your nostrils. You tipped it, slowly, and tasted it with a gag. It was vile, stringent, and fiery. He pushed it up with two fingers until you were choking on it. He didn’t let up until the glass was empty and the shine dripped down your chin.

You slammed the glass down and coughed. You touched your throat as your head spun and a warmth nestled in your cheeks. You tried to shake away the haze that washed over you.

“That’s it, girl,” he purred as he leaned forward, “You feel better, don’t you?”

“N-no,” you stammered as you gripped the chair.

“’Daddy’,” he said, “Girl, you had me hard in there… you too old to be callin’ that man, daddy.” He stood and shrugged off his leather jacket, “But you be right to call me daddy.”

“I don’t feel…” Your stomach burned and you tried to stand. You stumbled and he caught you.

“Don’t you get all jumpy on me, girl,” he sat you back down. “You gonna hurt yourself.”

You slumped in the chair and braced your head. You felt terribly dizzy and your inside were alight. You heard a jingle and looked up as Bodecker unzipped his pants. You recalled the day in the car and filled with panic. You stood again and this time staggered, falling onto your knees with a cry.

“Mmm, it’s okay, girl, you can stay down there,” You looked up as he pulled his cock out through the vee of his pants, “Come here.” He grabbed your chin and yanked you forward, “Open up.”

You snapped your mouth shut and tried to wriggle free of his grasp. His other hand came up behind your head and he pulled you close. His fingers spread across your head and he used his other hand to poke his cock against your lips.

“I’ll break that pretty little jaw of yours and tell your pa he did it,” he growled, “Now come on.” You shook your head and he slapped you, hard. He seized you again. “Open!”

Your mouth fell open and your vision blurred as he shoved his cock inside. He forced himself down your throat and you kicked your feet as you grabbed at the front of his pants. He groaned and held his cock at its limit.

“And I thought you were good with your hands,” he pulled back and thrust back in. Your eyes rolled back as they teared up and you choked. “Mmm, much better.”

He started slow at first, though each tilt of his hips was relentless, deep and painful. You struggled to breathe around him and it only seemed to feed his lust. He gripped your head between his hand as he fucked your mouth, the sloppy sounds made your head swim as the slobber leaked down your chin and his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pulled out of you suddenly and shoved you away. You fell back onto your ass and wiped your mouth. “You tryna end this night early or something.”

He let out a breath and watched his cock bob before him as he grunted.

“Get up and get your drawers off.” He ordered, “Then I want you like you was in the woods, huh? Skirt up.”

You wavered as you tried to climb to your feet. He caught your errant arm and pulled you up. He spun you and you swayed. He bent and his hands crawled up your skirt as he felt around. He ripped your underwear down and let them rest at your ankles. He turned you to the chair and pushed you forward. You fell and caught yourself against the seat. He threw your skirt up and bared your ass.

Your legs quaked as he pressed his hand between your legs and felt around. He rubbed your cunt as you squeezed him with your thighs. He pinched you and drew away.

“You don’t wanna make this harder than it needs to be girl,” he sneered, “You’re in no state for that.”

He stepped closer and bent over you. His arm wrapped around your middle as he felt around below you with his other hand. He caught the tip of his cock and guided it to your cunt. He pushed it along your folds, sliding it up and down until he found your entrance. You whimpered and pushed back against him, too weak to break free.

“You fight and it’ll hurt more,” he grunted as he pushed his tip into you and you yelped. “Fuck, you’re tight.” Another inch and he stopped as he took a breath, “Holy hell, girl, you really weren’t lying. You ain’t been touched.”

He growled and inhaled the scent of your hair as his hand gripped the chair next to yours. He thrust into you in a single tilt and you exclaimed as he stretched your walls. You reached to the back of the chair and latched onto the crossbar as you tried not to sob.

He stood, slowly and pushed deeper into you as he grabbed your hip. His other hand kneaded your ass as he began to rock. His groans were as steady as his motion as he dipped in and out of you. He curled his fingers and dug his nails into your flesh as he panted, his stomach bouncing against your ass.

“Be as loud as you want, girl,” he barked, “No one gonna hear you.”

He rutted into as the chair shifted below you. He kept a hand on your hip as his other trailed up to your shoulder and he arched your back. His zipper bit into your flesh as he sped up, slapping against you harder and harder as you whined louder and louder. It hurt terribly and your entire being thrummed with an unknown sensation.

You closed your eyes as your vision swirled and your arms shook. He pulled you back so you stood against him, your back curved as he hammered into you. You were on tiptoes as he didn’t let up and turned you against the table. Your fingertips brushed the top as you reached out blindly and his hand stretched across your neck as he forced your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m gonna cum, girl,” he hissed, “You fucking whore. You’re going to make me cu--”

He grunted and his hips spasmed as a warmth seeped into you. He gave several, final snaps of his hip and slowed. He fell forward with you bent beneath him against the table. Your legs were limp as he crushed you with his weight. His heart pounded through his chest and he gasped for breath.

You sniffed and pushed back against him. You were suffocating. You needed him off of you. You needed him out of you.

“We ain’t done yet,” he hooked his arm around you and pulled you back to sit on his lap as he fell into the chair. “You got two minutes to get me hard again or you can clean me up with your mouth.”

#lee bodecker #dark!fic #lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark fic #fic #one shot #the devil all the time

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 5 years ago

Text

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Pairings: Arvin Russel x Fem!Christian!Reader

Summary: Arvin knew he shouldn’t have left you alone with that new preacher...

Warnings: Sexual assault, physical assault, cursing, Teagarden being a perv, really nothing out of the ordinary for this movie.

Word Count: 5250

_________________________

“Arvin! Stop!” You giggled, pushing your boyfriend off of you as he nibbled up and down your neck. There wasn’t anything sexual about it, he just loved to hear you laugh and he knew how much the action tickled your skin. “You’re so annoyin’!” You laughed, cheeks flushed red as you gently pressed on his head to try and move it.

He pressed himself up, looking down at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever lay his eyes on. Arvin was straddling you, his knees trapping your hips beneath him. A hand was placed on either side of your head and he looked down at you, “But you’re so pretty when you laugh.”

“Oh? And I’m ugly all the rest of the time?” You asked jokingly, hands reaching up stroke up and down his arms.

Arvin leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away ever so slightly, hovering just above your lips. Both of your guys’ eyes were still closed as if it were a romantic moment until he whispered, “Ugly as a mule.”

You both busted up laughing and you shoved him, his body rolling onto the blanket beside you, “I’m breaking up with you.” You teasingly told him.

“Ah, c’mon. You know you love me.” He looked over at you, loving how the autumn sun lit up your features.

“I tolerate you. Don’t get it mixed up.” You rolled your head over to see him already admiring you. Your smile got bigger when you locked eyes with him.

“Well I love you.” Arvin admitted sweetly, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek and kissing you one more time.

Arvin made you feel beautiful and special and safe, all those things that no boy had ever made you feel. He always had. Even when you were children back in middle school and neither of you really talked to each other, when you saw him around the halls, a peace just settled over you that made you feel like you were on top of the world. When the two of you began dating ten months ago, that never changed.

“I love you too.”

The two of you laid back against the yellow blanket with little orange flowers on it, the one that you’d taken from the linen closet back home. This was yours and Arvin’s favorite place, a little clearing in the woods. The grass was tall enough to be soft but not so tall that it hid critters. Flowers lined the edge of the woods in the spring. It wasn’t springtime now but that only meant that instead of a display of white and yellow flower buds, the pair of you had a beautiful show of brilliant reds and oranges from the falling leaves.

Everyone in town knew you were together. Word spread fast around Coal Creek and it was nearly impossible to hide anything. Your families were both supportive of the relationship. Emma loved that you were involved with the church and put effort into the community when you could, often participating in bake sales around town. She liked to tease that you won Arvin over with your “man catching apple cobbler” as she now called it, since he officially asked you to be his girlfriend over a slice of the delicious dessert after a Sunday service.

Your parents liked Arvin as well. Even after Fred Dinwoodie had told your dad about what Arvin had done to Gene, it surprisingly made him like Arvin more. “You got yourself a good man who knows right from wrong and ain’t afraid to stand up for the people he loves.” Was what he’d said, which had surprised you. You knew that Arvin had beaten all the boys right after he’d done it, since he came to you to help him calm down and ice his knuckles. You were terrified for your parents to find out, though, sure that they’d tell you to break up with him for fear of violent tendencies. Thankfully, that day never came.

It was nice out there, bundled up in a warm brown coat, laying on Arvin’s chest, and watching the leaves fly across the crisp sky in the breeze.

“We should probably get headin’ back.” You said reluctantly, pushing yourself up to sitting.

“Why’s that?” Arvin perched on his elbow to watch you tighten the jacket around your frame, a cool breeze hitting just right.

“The new preacher asked me to come by this afternoon. Said he needed help planning a fundraiser to raise money for the less fortunate families in town.” You traced a finger over his knuckles gingerly, small pink marks littering his knuckles from his attack on Dinwoodie and his boys still healing over.

“Ain’t you one o’ them less fortunate families in town?” He asked, trying to find a way to talk you out of this. Ever since Preston Teagarden had humiliated Emma on his first day, Arvin had it out for the man.

You scoffed with a chuckle, “Yeah, but you are too and your grandma is still always bringin’ stuff to church. Just cause I’m broke as shit doesn’t mean I can’t try to help other people who are broke as shit.”

Arvin stood up with you and helped you fold up the blanket, “I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im.”

“I agree that he was totally out of line callin’ your grandma out like that two weeks ago but I’d like to think that maybe I can talk to him about it.” The two of you began to walk back to Arvin’s car, grass swishing under your steps.

Arvin’s face twisted, “I just don’t trust the man. He’s always up there on that damn stage actin’ all high ‘n mighty every Sunday like he ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He reached forward and opened your door for you, closing it after you slid onto the seat. He walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“He’s a sinner like the rest of us. It’s just about doing what you can to make yourself better.” You responded, looking over at Arvin sweetly. He gave you a skeptic look and sighed deeply as he turned his attention back to look towards the road. With one hand on the steering wheel, he slid his free hand over to hold yours gently. The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, with the exception of the radio quietly playing in the background.

Arvin loved you. He really really loved you. You generally had your wits about you, a heck of a lot more than most of the girls in Coal Creek, not allowing your religion to totally cloud your vision. You were a good girl, good enough to make his grandma happy and not cause too much trouble around town, always helping those in need, but not so pious that you made everyone else around you feel like a sinner. You were still fun, you still made mistakes. Arvin felt like you were something between ethereal and real, somehow elevating him as a person but also showing him just how good life could be.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel like you were making a mistake with this preacher. Of course, with your caring nature, you would help him, especially knowing it was for the poor folks in town. But something about Teagarden just made Arvin’s skin crawl. He just couldn’t put his finger on it…

The tires rolled to a crunching halt on the gravel outside of the church. The graveyard to the side looked dark and gloomy as always, the cloud of loss looming over almost everyone in this town in one way or another. The church, though, stood small and humble in the field, white paint chipping after years of weathering.

“Thank you for the ride.” You leaned over and pecked Arvin on the cheek.

He let out a heavy sigh, “You really sure you don’t just want me to take you home?”

You rolled your eyes at him with a sweet smile on your face, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be fine, Arv, but thank you for the concern.” Opening the door, you climbed out, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“What? No. I’m givin’ you a ride home.” Arvin looked offended that you even suggested such blasphemy.

“I don’t want you to have to drive all the way back here for me and I don’t know how long this’ll take. Besides, I don’t live too far from here.” You shook your head, leaning against the open door.

Arvin raised his eyebrows, “What kind of man would I be if I let you walk home alone at night? I’m givin’ you a ride home ‘n that’s final. I have to run to the market anyways to get some stuff for my grandma so I’ll just do that ‘n come back here for ya.”

With loving warmth welling up in your chest, you leaned into the car, holding onto the roof for balance, while you kissed him on the lips, “I’ll see you in a few then.”

Pulling yourself back out of the car, you closed the door and waved before spinning to walk towards the church. Looking behind you, you gave Arvin one final wave before disappearing through the door.

The church was empty, though you expected nothing less on a Saturday afternoon. The pews were empty so you wandered into the building curiously. You closed the door behind you as you walked further in. “Hello? Reverend?”

Preston Teagarden approached from the door off to the side of the main stage, where his office had been located, “Y/N! Forgive me, I expected you to be a little bit later.”

You stopped in your tracks, “Oh, I’m sorry! You didn’t say an exact time. Just afternoon…” You chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling bad for arriving early.

“No, no, it’s no problem at all,” He waved his hand dismissively. Teagarden made his way down the aisle a few rows before stopping, “So from what I’ve heard, you are the one to talk to about fundraising”

Flattered, your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, “Oh, well I don’t know about that… I’ve done a few fundraisers but I wouldn’t say I’m the one to go to.”

“Nonsense, girl! I’m sure you’ll help plan something amazing. Now, why don’t you come over here and we can start talking about it.” He gestured towards the pew he was leaning on and waited for you to sit down before sliding in next to you.

Your legs crossed when you sat down, “So, I was thinking about this for a few days and the high school has a harvest festival every November. If we set up a bake sale, we could easily raise a few hundred dollars, at least. Everybody loves Mrs. Lyle’s lemon bars and I’m sure those alone could rake in a small fortune.” You giggled a little at your small joke and the preacher did as well.

As he did so, his arm slid behind your shoulder so smoothly, you almost didn’t notice at first. Almost. Though the action took you off guard, you chose to write it off. People had done this before to you platonically so this probably didn’t mean anything. Just a show of interest in what you had to say.

“Mmm, you’re makin’ me crave some sweets,” Teagarden chuckled, looking over his shoulder and then back around the room.

“Well I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. Coal Creek ain’t got much but if we got one thing, it’s some mighty good bakers.” You dug around in your bag that you’d brought, searching for the journal that you’d been planning this event out on, “I actually did some math and I was thinking… we could charge a dime per cookie or a dollar a dozen, yeah? And then maybe a quarter for a slice of pie and then a dollar twenty five for-”

The preacher stopped you, placing his hand on the notebook, “You really thought this out, huh? You sure are one smart girl there, Y/N. You go to the high school?”

The older man had scooched closer to you sometime during your ramblings and suddenly, you began to feel suffocated by his presence. His body was nearly flush against yours and his arm around your shoulders were trapping.

He’s a preacher, he wouldn’t do nothin’, you tried to convince yourself but Arvin’s voice came ringing in your ears: I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im. Trying not to be obvious, just in case you were misreading things, you slid away from him just slightly to put some distance between your bodies. As you did so, however, Teagarden’s hand closed around your left shoulder, rubbing it firmly but gently.

Your eyes widened when you looked over at his grip and your heart began to pick up pace. “Yeah.” Your voice was shakier than you thought it would be.

“What are ya? Junior, senior? You look young… but definitely not a little girl.” His eyes raked tactically over your body. Your legs were shaped out well in your cuffed denim jeans and your white and pink striped boat neck long sleeve shirt was far from revealing but Preston was well aware of the way the stripes curved out of place over your breasts.

“Senior. I’ll be graduating this June.” Now your voice was solid and low, just teetering on threatening.

The preacher smiled, “Ah, ain’t that exciting. Such a smart pretty little thing going out into the real world. It’s good to see a nice Christian girl going out there but y’know, the real world is real bad. Believe you me. You gotta be real careful out there. Temptation and sin ‘round every corner. The devil hides himself, y’know? Wraps up all his evil and disguises it as everythin’ you ever wanted.”

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” You stated quietly but firmly, looking up to lock eyes with him. Arvin was right. Something was certainly off about this man and you were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second.

Preston smiled proudly, “That’s right. Now, you gotta make sure you ain’t fallin’ into any o’ his traps.”

Your jaw clenched and your eyes darted around the room before landing in your lap, “I’d like to think I got a good ‘nough head on my shoulders to see Satan working in disguise.”

He tsked, “That’s a good start but you can’t go relyin’ on your own knowledge of the world. You need to let God tell you what’s right ‘n wrong. Trust in Him.” His hand on your shoulder shook you slightly for emphasis while his other pointed upwards towards Heaven.

There was a brief moment of silence in which you could have heard a pin drop before he spoke again, “How is your walk with God?”

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes, “It’s alright. Could be better but everyone’s could, I s’pose.”

“I agree,” Preston’s leg started bouncing and he looked towards the front of the church, where he typically stood preaching, “E’ryone could walk a little closer. Myself included.” He gestured to the front of the church, “Why don’t we pray? C’mon over here.”

He stood up and walked up to the head of the room, just below the cross. Cautiously, you followed him. “I like to think as a man of God, I can do some of His work. Or rather put the good word out there and try to save as many souls as possible. Why don’t you get on your knees? Lemme pray for ya.”

A shiver ran through your spine as you knelt down on shaky knees, eyes going up to the large black cross that hung on the wall. Please, Lord, get me out of this. You prayed silently.

Preston stood behind you, his hands coming to your shoulders as he began, “Lord, today we pray for Y/N and her excursions into the world as a young woman. Help her see through the devil’s delusions and guide her through this world. Lord, I pray that you see Y/N in everything that she is as she dedicates her whole self to you. Give her strength, amen.”

“Amen.” When your eyes slid open, your whole body was shaking.

“So you say you got some good judgement?” Preston asked as you stood up, “Say you walk in the light?”

“I try to but we all have our slip ups.” You answered humbly and honestly, avoiding his eye contact.

Preston hummed, “I seen you with that Russell boy. Y’all going steady?” Silently, you nodded in response. “There’s a lot of temptation in relationships like that.”

It was clear what he was insinuating and it actually made you mad. What right did he have to be poking around in your romantic and sexual life? “Has he ever touched you?”

The bluntness of his question hit you like a rock, “With all do respect, Reverend, that ain’t really none of your business.”

He put his hands up in surrender, “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just concerned ‘bout that boy dragging you down into temptation. Sullying your position with the good Lord, ‘n all.”

“Arvin is a perfectly respectful man. He ain’t draggin’ nothin’ or nobody down.” Your voice was getting more aggressive.

“So he hasn’t touched you? He hasn’t seen you…”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Like I said, that ain’t none of your business. Thank you for your concern for my soul but what Arvin and I do is between us and the Lord. I don’t need no middle man reverend to redeem me.”

He shrugged, “But you know, one of the best ways to get right with the Lord is to surrender yourself. Fully.” He took a few steps towards you and your breathing hitched. There was a sexual tension in the air that made your skin crawl.

“I’ve already given my life to the Lord.”

You weren’t giving in quite as easily as Preston had expected. Those other girls, Lenora and Jeanette Reaster, had been easily manipulated into giving Preston what he wanted. Just tell them they were unclean and needed to get right with the Lord and right into his trap they fell but you… you were different. Smart in the worldy kind of way. You were the first girl to give him a hard time but Preston would be lying if he said he didn’t like the chase.

You were staring daggers at him, your jaw clenched, and your body standing tall and strong. It was almost as if you were trying to prove a point. You could have run, could have darted out screaming about what had happened, but you didn’t. There was no proof and Preston knew it. This was how he got away with it all. No proof, all words and small touches that were just innocent enough to be misread. It wasn’t until he got them in the backseat of his car or in the office in the back of the church that he actually touched them but by then, it was consensual. Sure, for Lenora and Jeanette there was the issue that they were minors but that was the fun of these little towns like Coal Creek, The girl always took the fall. It was always her fault. Preston could get off scotch free and he knew it. He loved it.

Almost like something out of a movie, he reached down and gently settled one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek, pressing his lips against yours without giving you a chance to object. You yelled indignantly against lips but when he pulled away, the hand on your cheek moved to cover your mouth. Preston leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I am an extension of the Lord’s work. Surrender yourself to me fully to surrender yourself to Him.”

Arvin watched as you walked into the church with a distrusting pang in his gut. There was just something about that reverend that didn’t sit right. It killed him to watch you leave, knowing that you were alone in there with him.

But he also knew you were a big girl. The logical part of his brain kept screaming at him that he was being irrational. The reverend was probably an okay enough guy. He’d never be number one or even number twenty on Arvin’s list of favorite people but that didn’t necessarily mean that the preacher would kill your something. Besides, Arvin really did need to run to the market. Lenora had requested some pecans for a pie she wanted to bake and his grandma needed more milk. It would be a quick trip as town was just a short drive down the street.

Reluctantly, Arvin backed out the driveway and sped off down the street.

The entire time that Arvin was at the market, there was an unsettling tingle all around his body. It got harder to ignore as more time passed. The longer he left you with Teagarden, the worse he felt.

“Just these.” Arvin threw a bag of pecans and a gallon of milk on the counter and paid for it quickly, rushing back to his car. He wouldn’t be having these feelings for no reason. Best case scenario, you were absolutely fine and Arvin was just being paranoid. Worst case scenario… Arvin couldn’t think about it because every time he thought of one, another worse one popped into his brain.

It had only been about twenty minutes since Arvin left you alone with the preacher. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how long planning a fundraiser would take. Church activities had never been his thing but he supported you as long as it made you happy.

He sat in the car in the church parking lot, lighting up a cigarette to calm his nerves. Arvin’s leg bounced anxiously as he watched yet another late autumn storm roll in. The clouds cast a dark gloominess, turning the minimal light left from the mostly set sun a shade of grey.. There Arvin sat for another five minutes, awaiting your exit from the building but it never came.

Fuck it. Arvin twisted his hat on straight and threw the door open, nearly stomping out. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something was wrong. He could feel it.

Sure enough, when he threw the door open, he was horrified. Preston Teagarden had you locked in a tight embrace, his hands running over your breasts. The two of you were standing in the middle of the aisle, right in the center of church. You had a furious look on your face, “I swear to God you touch me like that again and I’ll cut your damn dick off!” You gripped desperately at his hand that was groping you, trying to pry it away but to no avail.

The sound of the door swinging open was enough to draw both yours and Teagarden’s attention. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Arvin wasted no time running into the conflict. Teagarden dropped you and your knees buckled from the unexpected action, landing you on the ground.

He put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, now, let’s talk about this like real men.”

Arvin threw one solid swing to his chin, sending his head flying sideways, “You ain’t no real man. Real men don’t gotta go around gropin’ girls to get off, you sick fuck!” Another punch landed on his opposite cheek and it sent Teagarden to the ground.

You scurried away from him and stood up just ahead of Arvin. Preston cowered, hiding his face, “Please, please, have mercy.” His pleading eyes went from Arvin to you and he lingered on your gaze, knowing that he had a better chance with the mercy approach with you.

He found none. Even with his blood smeared face, his teeth stained crimson, and the way his body shook, you just scowled down at him, “I’m gonna tell e’ryone in this town what a disgustin’ man you are. You think you can get away with this, you’re dead wrong.” You sent a swift kick straight to his stomach, making him curl into the fetal position with a loud groan of pain.

But then he laughed. He actually laughed.

“What’s so damn funny?” You and Arvin both spat in unison, blood boiling.

Preston laid his head back and closed his eyes, an almost serene look of confidence contrasting the blood that covered him and the swelling of his lip, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me. You came to visit the church after hours under the guise of helping me with a fundraiser. But then you used your womanly charms to try and seduce me, a married man of God.”

“That ain’t what happened!” Arvin yelled angrily, fists clenched by his side.

When the words left the preacher’s mouth though, your heart dropped. You knew the truth, Arvin knew the truth, the reverend knew the truth. But none of that mattered if the Reverend told everyone his concocted story because he was a man of God. Why would he lie?

A sadistic smile spread across his face, “It is if I say it is. Ain’t nobody gonna believe two teenagers over a preacher.”

“He’s right.” Your voice faltered as you spoke, nearly coming out as a shattered whisper. When Arvin looked over at you, your face had paled and you looked utterly broken.

It wasn’t so much that the assault itself was enough to break you, though, of course, it had definitely left you with the lingering ghosts of his filthy hands on your body. It was the fact that you knew he’d get away with it, that no matter what you or Arvin said, the town would believe Teagarden.

Arvin swallowed hard, trying to see through the blinding rage. As a boy, he never truly understood the bias that women faced when they were victims of sexual assault- how it was perceived as their faults in towns like this. It had never happened to anyone he knew so he never had much reason to think about it. Now, you were forced to live with knowing that you assailant was going to keep his position as a fucking preacher in town and that you couldn’t do anything about it.

Arvin wouldn’t let it stand.

He stomped forward yet again and knelt over Teagarden, sending blow after blow into his face. Bone crunched bone with a disgusting crack with every hit and you flinched every time.

Your eyes were wide with terror. Arvin’s violent past with Gene Dinwoodie and his boys was not unknown to you. You were the first person he’d gone to after the attack, in fact, and you’d actually supported him for the most part, only wishing that maybe he didn’t send them all to the hospital and only roughed them up a bit. Actually watching him beat someone to the brink of death though was something else entirely.

“Stop!” The word left your mouth before you even knew you’d thought it.

Arvin stopped and looked over his shoulder at you in surprise. He was doing this for you after all.

“Don’t kill ‘im. Please.” You begged, your voice heavy.

“What?” Arvin wasn’t actually sure what he’d intended on doing to the preacher. Sure, he wanted to kill him. That horrified, angry look in your eye as he touched you made a fire burn in him so bright, he didn’t know if it could be put out. But Arvin had never wanted to be a killer. He only wanted to prove a point and make sure that the message stuck. Now that he thought about it, though, he would have to finish the job or the preacher would tell him he’d attacked him.

Your eyes were almost brimming with tears, though none fell. This whole evening had been too much. First the assault and now watching the love of your life throw his good conscience away for you. You wanted the preacher to pay as much as he did but this just didn’t feel right.

“P-please… I don’t want you takin’ the fall for none o’ this. He don’t deserve to die but I think a good beatin’ will give him some time to reevaluate ‘imself.” You’d walked towards Arvin and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

Arvin couldn’t fathom why you’d be protecting this monster. The question was clear all over his face. Why?

“I’m not asking you to stop for him. I’m asking you to stop for you. I don’t want you to have blood on your hands for me. Not for this.” His heart broke seeing you look the way you did, your eyes shining with tears, and your hand a little shaky. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you more.

Arvin grabbed the preacher off the ground by the collar and pulled him up almost a foot, leaning down to get in his disfigured face, “If I ever hear that you went near Y/N or any other girl again, I will find you and kill you. If you so much as look at her again, I will kill you. And if you tell anyone what happened here tonight, I will fucking kill you. You understand? Consider it that mercy you kept beggin’ for.”

He dropped the preacher gracelessly with a thud and wrapped an arm comfortingly around you. For a moment, he was scared that you’d flinch away. You’d never seen him when he let his anger get the best of him and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t want you to think that he was a violent man because he really wasn’t. Arvin just cared for a special few so much that he’d do anything for them. He’d never hurt someone he loved though and needed you to know that.

Thankfully, you leaned into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you back to his car, leaving the preacher an unconscious mess in the middle of the church. When you exited the building, night had fallen upon Coal Creek, casting a fitting darkness over the town.

“Thank you.” You said simply and quietly, looking over at Arvin sincerely on the drive home.

“For what?”

“For everything. Just bein’ who you are.” You paused with a heavy sigh, “But promise me something?”

Arvin looked over at you, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to show you he was listening.

“Promise me you won’t go gettin’ yourself in trouble for me.”

He shook his head, “He deserved-”

“I know what he deserved,” You interrupted, “And I am so grateful that you stepped in to help. But I don’t want you gettin’ yourself thrown in jail or killed for me.”

There was short silence before Arvin looked over with the most sincere look you think he’d ever given you, “I can’t promise that. ‘M sorry, Y/N, but if I ever see you in danger, I’m gonna do what I need to do.”

It wasn’t the response you’d been hoping for but this boy had the ability to make you feel more loved than anyone else you knew. You only wished he understood that you only wanted what was best for him, just like he did for you. “I love you, Arvin.” You admitted, sliding across the seat to lay your head against his shoulder while he drove.

“I love you too.”

#arvin #Arvin Russell #arvin rus #arvin russel imagines #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel imagine #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tdatt #tdatt fics #tdatt imagine

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randomvarious · 3 years ago

Photo

Today’s compilation:

50 anni di musica internazionale 2001 Soft Rock / New Wave / Soul / Pop / Pop-Rock / R&B / Disco / Folk-Rock / Hard Rock / Blues-Rock / Synthpop / Funk / Dance-Pop / Rock & Roll / Latin Rock

Been listening to this immense six-disc, five-decade retrospective on the history of popular music from 1950 through 2000 over the past week and change that was put out by weekly Italian entertainment magazine TV Sorrisi e Canzoni back in '01. And let me tell you, it's really good.

I mean, It's definitely not perfect (there are admittedly some real headscratchers here, like the awful, not-sure-if-this-was-actually-made-as-a-joke, "Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm" by the Crash Test Dummies), but it's a very eclectic set of songs, and what sets it apart from other *definitive box sets* of its ilk is that, while any fair-weather music fan will recognize just about every name on here, a lot of times the compiler(s) of this release actually chose to stray away from the most popular song by a bunch of these acts.

For example, they've got Joe Jackson on here, so you'd probably be expecting "Steppin' Out," right? But that's not the song they went with. They chose his much less known, but also great, "You Can't Get What You Want (Till You Know What You Want)" instead. Cyndi Lauper? No, not "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" or "Time After Time;" "True Colors." Stevie Wonder? Not any of his super famous hits, but rather "A Place in the Sun." Toto? No, not "Africa;" "Rosanna." Late 90s Cher? Not "Believe;" "Strong Enough." Tears for Fears? Not "Shout," not "Everybody Wants to Rule the World," not even "Mad World" or "Head Over Heels;" "Woman in Chains." Duran Duran? Not "Hungry Like the Wolf," not "Notorious," and not "Ordinary World." It's their 2000 Oasis-sounding track, "Someone Else Not Me." Gloria Gaynor? Not "I Will Survive;" the superior-in-every-way, "Never Can Say Goodbye." The Spin Doctors? Not "Two Princes" or "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong;" it's their mediocre cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?"

Now, did that strategy of going with a lesser known hit always work? Certainly not. Sometimes the alternative choice just isn't a very good song. But did that strategy make for something of a unique listening experience overall? Absolutely. And with so many of these box sets that have floated around over the years, all claiming to represent the best that a large chunk of time had to offer, this is one of the better ones, simply because, in a lot of instances, they didn't go with the most obvious choices.

So, if you want a nice, varied mix of enormous career-defining hits and some unexpected, but sweet curveballs, then this is a set that's definitely worth checking out.

Highlights:

CD1:

Bob Dylan - "Subterranean Homesick Blues" The Clash - "Should I Stay or Should I Go" Eurythmics - "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" Michael Bolton - "Soul Provider" Eric Carmen - "All by Myself" Aretha Franklin - "(You Make Me Feel Like) a Natural Woman" Men at Work - "Who Can It Be Now?" Christopher Cross - "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)" Joe Jackson - "You Can't Get What You Want (Till You Know What You Want)" Santana - "Samba pa ti"

CD2:

Billy Joel - "Just the Way You Are" Simon & Garfunkel - "Mrs. Robinson" Marvin Gaye - "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" Stevie Wonder - "A Place in the Sun" Janis Joplin - "Me and Bobby McGee" Otis Redding - "(Sittin' on) The Dock of the Bay" Paul Anka - "Diana" Harry Belafonte - "Banana Boat (Day-O)" Dionne Warwick - "Heartbreaker" B.B. King - "The Thrill Is Gone"

CD3:

Barry White - "You're the First, the Last, My Everything" Rod Stewart - "Maggie May" Toto - "Rosanna" Donna Summer - "Love to Love You Baby" Natalie Imbruglia - "Torn" Cher - "Strong Enough" Percy Sledge - "When a Man Loves a Woman" The Alan Parsons Project - "Eye in the Sky"

CD4:

Tears for Fears - "Woman in Chains" Duran Duran - "Someone Else Not Me" Rufus & Chaka Khan - "Ain't Nobody" Roy Orbison - "Oh, Pretty Woman" Leonard Cohen - "Suzanne" Enya - "Orinoco Flow"

CD5:

Gloria Gaynor - "Never Can Say Goodbye" INXS - "Need You Tonight" Grace Jones - "Slave to the Rhythm" Peter Tosh - "Legalize It" Ben E. King - "Stand by Me" Van Morrison - "Brown Eyed Girl" Michael Jackson & The Jackson 5 - "I Want You Back" Fine Young Cannibals - "She Drives Me Crazy" Earth, Wind & Fire - "September"

CD6:

David Bowie - "Space Oddity" James Brown - "Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine" Wilson Pickett - "Mustang Sally" Jefferson Airplane - "Somebody to Love" Sam & Dave - "Hold on I'm Comin'" Jerry Lee Lewis - "Great Balls of Fire" Solomon Burke - "Everybody Needs Somebody (to Love)"

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sehunniepotwrites · 4 years ago

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when the ball drops, our hearts stop | mk.l

gif created by @nctsworld

SYNOPSIS ☆ In which being dragged and ditched at a New Year’s Eve gala with your so-called enemy doesn’t end as badly as you thought it would.

GENRE ☆ enemies-to-lovers!au, fluff, suggestive PAIRING ☆ mark lee x (f) reader WORD COUNT ☆ 2666 WARNINGS ☆ suggestive content ahead!! dirty dancing, neck kisses, alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, cursing

PLAYLIST ☆ new year’s day - taylor swift

“What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” had to be the number one question that was sent your way and unlike last year, you didn’t have an answer. Finding your lack of plans to celebrate the upcoming year with a bang, your best friend Wendy decided to drag you to the great outdoors.

And by the great outdoors, she meant the biggest New Year’s Gala in the city. So there you were, in the grandest hotel in the heart of the city, downed in a glittery silver power suit that hugged your body in just the right way. A matching belt wrapped around to cinch your waist and the low cut of your blazer and lack of undershirt only accentuated the curves you usually preferred hiding. Hair curled up and face painted with the most flattering colors for your skin tone, you were rocking and ready to go.

The gala was packed with people your age and older with a mix of top forty music blaring from the loudspeakers. Everyone was dressed to the nines, wearing suits and dresses that went with the gold and silver theme. Bodies were pressed against each other on the dance floor and you were sure Wendy and her boyfriend Johnny were in that crowd as well. They were always the type to be caught up in all the fun— you, not so much, not since your breakup with your ex that occurred five months ago anyway.

You wanted to stray away from the party scene since it was your ex’s scene as well but fuck it, it was New Year’s Eve and you deserved to have fun. Your definition of fun included an obscene amount of alcohol, courtesy of Son Wendy and the credit card she slipped into the palm of your hand before making her way to the dance floor.

Of course, you promised that you would chat and get to know some people, maybe find someone to share a New Year’s kiss with but it was all a lie. You just wanted your free drinks and the loneliness haunting your mind to fade away.

Three Long Island Iced Teas and a bit way past tipsy into your night, a person pushed their way next to you at the bar, their body pressing against your side as they ordered a drink. You couldn’t see them, your hair creating a curtain and blocking them from view but you felt their eyes on you. It wasn’t until you leaned forward and took another sip of your drink that the person talked to you, immediately recognizing your face.

They called your name a bit cockily and you flinched at the sound, sober enough to pinpoint the exact person next to you but drunk enough to engage in a conversation with him. Swiveling your barstool to face him, you shot him a curt smile, lifting your drink up from the bar in greeting. “Mark,” you nodded as you drank him in.

“Yo.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Mark Lee was handsome. His hair had been dyed a shade of blond and was styled in a way that made your heart unwillingly skip a beat. His grey velvet suit clung onto his body oh-so-well and the black tie that contrasted against the bright white of his shirt looked almost too tempting, the drunken state of your mind was urging you to pull it so he could step closer to you.

What did people say? Drunken thoughts, sober words? Yeah, fuck that.

“Johnny invited you?” you questioned as you sucked on the straw of your drink. You watched as his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips for a fraction of a second, his lips curving into the smirk you wanted to punch off his face. Or kiss.

“Yeah, should’ve figured I would see you when John invited me. You and Wendy are like a packaged deal, you know?” he replied as the bartender dropped off his drink. This time, your gaze was glued to his mouth as he took a swig of his drink, eyes slightly widening as his tongue peeked out before he downed the liquid courage.

Coughing out of embarrassment, you looked away before Mark could catch you eyeing his seemingly delectable mouth.

“You look like the mirrorball that’s about to drop,” he commented on your fit of the night. Glancing down at your suit, you frowned. It didn’t look that bad, did it?

When you shifted in your seat yet again, it sent your head spinning for a second, leaving you to grasp against Mark’s toned arm for balance. “I feel like one too,” you threw back. “Is the room spinning?”

“Shit, dude, how much did you drink?” His voice dropped lower in slight concern.

You hold up three fingers before blinking. No, it was four. You raised another finger.

“All of them iced teas?”

“Yup!”

He cursed “Where’s your asshole of a boyfriend? Don’t see him around anywhere— doesn’t he know it’s not safe to leave their girl alone at the bar?” Mark pushed, suddenly worried about your safety. He asked if anyone had hit on you yet and let out a sigh of relief when you reiterated that no one had bothered you. Despite the insult thrown your ex’s way, you remembered how considerate the guy was. The only real reason you hated Mark was due to the rivalry he held with your ex-boyfriend.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, shoulders raising and the material of your blazer shifting. Mark coughed, eyes quickly darting away so they wouldn’t land on the deep cut into your cleavage. “Probably sucking face with the bitch he left me for.”

Another long swig of your iced tea and suddenly, the drink was gone with only ice in the glass. You pointed a finger at his face, “Don’t cheat, folks. It’ll wreck a person.”

“Fuck,” Mark muttered under his breath, now fuming with anger that someone would cheat on a girl like you. It only grew when he realized your best friends had left you at the bar alone. He was going to rip their heads off later— how irresponsible of them.

“Maybe that’s enough drinking for you today,” he told you, wanting to cut you off so you could sober up. He waved a hand in the air to call the bartender over to request two glasses of water, which was immediately prepared for you.

“Drink up,” Mark commanded, holding the straw to your lips.

You thanked him with a lazy smile before drinking away, sighing at the refreshing feeling of the cold water running down your throat. He held the drink for you in his hands as you continued to work on the glass, only setting it down after you finished it.

“Thanks,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his shoulder. He felt comfortable and you didn’t want to move as you breathed in the addicting scent of his cologne. You always preferred Mark’s fresh cologne over your ex’s overwhelmingly woody scent. It was consoling and safe and nice and—

“Hey, why don’t we move you to a booth? You’ll be more comfortable there,” Mark softly suggested.

“But what if I want to dance for once?” you whined.

“Let’s get you to sober up a bit more and then I can take you dancing, how ‘bout that?” His breath hit your ear and you laughed at the cold sensation before nodding. A flush that had nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed took over your face as the man you said you hated wrapped a supporting arm around your waist.

An hour later, your drunken state was fading as was the loneliness you were dreading. Mark Lee made an excellent company; he wasn’t at all what your ex painted him out to be. He was kind, caring, and endearingly sweet with the prettiest pair of eyes to match. The way his body wiggled to match his overflowing giggles brought the brightest smile to your lips, something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

The time spent with him in the small booth rekindled the crush you harbored for him before you met your sad excuse of an ex, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Hey,” he leaned over the table, his face so close to yours. “You wanna move closer to the screen so we can see the ball drop clearly? It’s forty to midnight. We can dance, too.”

Your eyes curled up in excitement as you agreed, easily slipping your hand in his like you had done it a million times before. The feeling of his larger hand wrapped around yours sent you into a high that you couldn’t really describe. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to let go and thank god he didn’t.

Mark only held you tighter as you arrived on the dance floor with a clear view of the screen. The bass thumped as he tentatively quirked a brow, silently asking you to dance. You replied by draping your arms over the slopes of his shoulder, your fingertips playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Tugging you closer at the waist, Mark shot you another look to see if you were okay. The tightening grip around his neck was enough of an answer for him.

You shivered as his hands ran up and down the sides of your body, his touch almost burning through your glittered suit. When Mark least expected it, you turned around in his hold, pressing your backside against his front. A groan slipped out of his lips before his head dropped against your shoulder, his moist lips ghosting against the exposed skin of your neck. You reached back to hold his head in place as your body grinded into his.

The hand holding your waist tightened at your ministrations, squeezing you in a way that drove you crazy and the pair of lips that left a cautious kiss drove you crazier. The moan you let out and the way your free hand depressed against the one placed on your side was all the confirmation Mark needed to continue the trail of kisses he planned on leaving over the expanse of your neck. You enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your skin so much, your head rolled back and your eyes fluttered to a pleasured close as he nipped at your skin.

The next half hour was spent with you encaged in Mark’s hold and you weren’t ashamed to say that you enjoyed every minute of it. When catching eyes with Wendy and Johnny across the dance floor, you laughed as your best friend wiggled her brows at you and shot a thumbs up your way. It was then, you realized, that it was their plan to get you two together all along.

Your friends had always mentioned you would get along great, the only thing stopping you was the blasted and unnecessary rivalry that blossomed between Mark and your ex. Now that the terrible excuse of a person was out of your life, there was room for a new man and you found yourself not hating the idea of Mark being the next keeper of your heart.

Five minutes to midnight, you turned around in his hold and smiled up at him. He returned the look with a soft grin of his own.

“You’re not as bad as I thought you were, Mark Lee.”

“Took you long enough to notice,” he chuckled lowly, the sound sending a warm feeling to the pit of your stomach. “I never thought of you as bad, you know?”

“Is that so?” you countered, your hand freely running through his blond tresses.

“Yeah, I always thought you were great.”

“Just great?” you teased, leaning a bit forward.

He groaned, “Ugh, dude, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do, dude,” you pushed further, leaving him to touch his head against your shoulder again. You were starting to think that he loved to do it.

“I always thought you were pretty special,” he whispered into your skin.

Placing a kiss on the top of his head, you answered back, “I never wanted to admit it but I thought you were pretty special, too.”

“Glad to finally see that the feeling’s mutual,” he laughed before he returned the favor with a kiss to your jaw.

When the countdown from twenty began, Mark shifted both your bodies to face the screen as the people around you started to shout the numbers at the top of their lungs. Wendy and Johnny fought their way through the crowd to get to you and you briefly squeezed your best friend’s hand in greeting. Ready to leave the current year behind and welcome in the new one, you pressed your side into Mark’s before joining in on the countdown.

You were shining, Mark noticed, like the mirrorball that was projected on the screen. It wasn’t like he mentioned earlier— it had nothing to do with the silver of the suit. It was just you and the way you shined so brightly as your voice blended with the others in the room. You were lost in the feeling and he loved the way you looked under the dim lights.

He hoped he could see you in more nights to come, for more opportunities to hold you the way he did on the dance floor.

Mark Lee, who was in love with you longer than he could even remember, wanted your midnights and more. He wanted to hold on to the memories of keeping you close and to create new ones if you would let him.

Hold onto the memories and they’ll hold onto you or so they said.

His eyes were stuck on you like glue as the crowd reached number ten.

Nine!

Mark’s hand wriggled around the ends of your blazer.

Eight!

His fingertips were hot against your bare skin.

Seven!

Mark tugged you closer to him, making you lose your grip on Wendy’s hand.

Six!

He found your hand reaching for his, fingers tangling together like the red string of fate.

Five!

His heart was beating a mile a minute at the feeling of your thumb rubbing against his skin.

Four!

You jerk your head towards him with glistening eyes and the widest smile. His eyes darted down to your colored lips before shifting back to meet your gaze.

“You wanna kiss me so bad,” you teased as your eyes followed his actions and ended up watching his tongue peek out to moisten his now dry lips.

Three!

“And what if I do?”

Two!

“Well, I’m not going to stop you,” came your flirty reply.

One!

And when the ball dropped from the sky, your hearts stopped for a brief moment.

Cheers for the new year came from all around but Mark Lee didn’t care— all he cared about was your lips fiercely crashing against his. He spun your body round so it slotted so perfectly against his, much like two pieces of a puzzle coming together as a whole.

The sensation of finally kissing your lips after secretly longing for you was more than satisfactory; it was addictive, more addictive than the drinks he consumed or any other tempting substance that existed in the world. Mark Lee was enthusiastically devoted to kissing you and the idea of ceasing never crossed his mind.

The only reason he did was for you to catch a breath. His eagerness never faltered, his lips running down to your jaw and the sides of your neck. He pecked your temple and forehead as you giggled at his over-the-top display of affection and it was music to his ears.

Pulling you flush into his chest, he whispered a late greeting into your ear, “Happy New Year.”

With your hands resting against his pecs, you glanced up at him with a charming smile, making his heart drop for the second time in the new year.

“A happy new year indeed.”

author’s note ☆ surprise! happy new year, everyone! (and happy 500+ followers to me!) i coughed this out in like five hours so it’s unedited and not my best work, but i wanted to release something in time for the new year! wishing you the best 2021!!

this was originally a request and i finally filled it!! ✨

#dreamwritersnet #cznnet #neowritingsnet #mark lee #nct mark lee #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct smut #mark scenario #mark imagines #mark fanfic #mark fluff #mark lee x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct 127

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sconnie-doesnt-know · 4 years ago

Text

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen.

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error.

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully.

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering.

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice.

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter.

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?”

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle.

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless.

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.”

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask.

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper.

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly.

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space.

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?”

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven.

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.”

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do.

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about.

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper.

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.”

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer.

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine.

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk.

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows.

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth.

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide.

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers.

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker angst #lee bodecker fanfiction #hoedecker club #hoedecker cult #tdatt fanfiction #my writing #fic title so wrong #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader

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iambilliejeanok · 4 years ago

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🤎A Break With My Lover.🤎

Part One

Pairing: Might Guy x Tenji( made up character)

Summary: Tenj is back from her two month mission and is so excited to spend time with her new boyfriend Guy, who pampers and adores her. Just a cute little short story for all my Guy sensei hoes to enjoy.😊

Warnings: 18+, language, fluff, SFW and NSFW, smut.

Tenji now stood at the entrance of the Hokage mansion, grateful to have been granted a full week's rest after her team worked tirelessly for a full two months. Another breeze blew a curl that dangled from her loose bun into her face, not caring in the slightest to put it back in its place. Her main goal was to reach her beloved apartment and take a much needed cool shower to wash away the grim, sweat and blood that clung to her aching body. With her eyes closed she inhaled a deep long breath, forcing herself to take the first step. Her body felt so heavy and her mind fuzzy, a sudden wave of fatigue ripping a whine from deep in her throat. “Oi, Tenji,” a sharp flick on the side of her neck immediately snapped her out of her sluggish mood. “Tch! Genma what the fuck,” a sly smirk appearing on his smug face as he took pleasure in her frustration, relishing the irritated look he managed to put on her face. “Well hello to you too Tenji, it's been too long, glad that you're back and in one piece it seems,” he spoke as he gave her a quick once over, ensuring that she was really in one piece and he hopefully hadn’t spoken too soon. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes as he inspected her obviously fatigued face, a hint of sympathy pulled at his heart realising she would probably have to walk all the way home on her own despite how tired she was. Tenji noticed the slight worry in his light brown eyes and instantly thought of a plan. Maybe she could convince him to carry her home after seeing the state she was in. “I’m okay I guess, I’m so tired, just wish i had help getting home Genma,” she whimpered as she stepped closer, leaning her chubby cheek into his broad, muscular chest, she looked up at him, hopeful that her long time buddy would show even the tiniest bit kindness he claimed to have, pulling her best puppy face while looking into his light brown eyes, her darker eyes needy as her full lips curved into a pout that he almost gave into until he realised what she was up to. Now, it’s not that he didn’t want to help(maybe a little) but it was also that he had already been summoned by the Hokage and couldn’t afford to be later than he already was and also because he knew Tenji could be such a spoiled brat sometimes and he was not in the mood to baby her today. He averted his gaze and placed two long, slender fingers on her forehead before gently nudging her off of him. “Geez Tenji” , his words almost sounding empathetic until he opened his mouth again, “Good luck finding someone who will help you with that”. Tenji’s mouth hung open in utter defeat as Genma walked right past her, not missing how he unashamedly took in the gorgeous sight of her full, round ass, her uniform gracefully complimenting it with the way her pants clung desperately to the curve of her hips and hugged her ass in a way that he would always appreciate. “Tch”, Tenji scoffed as she turned fully to face him, his soft light, brown eyes slowly climbing up her body taking in her front, failing to hide the disappointment in them, missing the blessed sight she turned away from him, reluctantly looking back up into her darker orbs to wink at her, disappearing into the Hokage mansion. She blamed herself for expecting anything from that perverted bastard, as she hesitantly began her dreadful walk down the busy streets of Konoha.

Tenji kept her eyes glued to the ground, drowning out the sounds of the happy village folk all around her, as she continued on replaying how good it would feel to walk into her apartment and pamper herself to a nice shower and some well needed rest. A low growl from her tummy dirsturbed her train of thought, reminding her of her deep hunger for some delicious, warm food. The divine, savory smell of Ichiraku’s ramen, not helping her best attempts at ignoring it and heading home, her fatigue too overwhelming for her to entertain her hunger as she stood in front of the little ramen restaurant. “Tenji sensei!,” a loud voice erupting out of nowhere pulled her attention directly in front of her. A young and enthusiastic Lee stood in her path, the biggest grin spreading on his face, clearly excited to see her. A mini Might Guy, always bringing a deep nostalgic feeling in her heart, he was far too adorable for her to not smile at him, despite the exhaustion that tugged at her eyelids, with his little green jumpsuit, “Lee-san, so good-,” she was suddenly cut off as two large hands tugged at her waist, lifting her up and tossing her high into the air, she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the one sensation she absolutely despised, punching her deep in her gut as the fall back downwards came shortly after. Landing right into none other than her boyfriend, Might Guy’s strong arms. “Precious!”, she shuddered as he spoke way louder than she would have liked; “After so long you have finally returned from your mission! Wow I’ve missed you'', Guy was basically roaring right in her face at this point, which she normally wouldn’t mind, but the fatigue she couldn’t shake off any longer made her highly irritable. “Guy!, put me down right now, baka!”, she blurted, his big, pretty grin never leaving his face as he gently complied. “My precious flower, how was your mission” he spoke in a much calmer voice, now sensing her irritated mood as he shamelessly inspected her entire body, not bothered by the irritation in her tone, making sure his eyes and hands didn't miss a single spot, hoping she wasn't injured as she replied, “It was a success. I just reported to Lady Hokage and I get a full week of rest as a reward so i'm going home now” , the tone of her voice growing more and more annoyed as she noticed Kakashi and his team all standing there, watching Guy fiddle with her body, the embarrassing display of care leaving a light blush across her plump cheeks. Everyone knew they were dating, despite the fact that their relationship was still very new, it didn't take a scientist to figure out they had been in love with one another even as friends. “Guy!” she whined, pushing him off of her hoping he was now pleased with his inspection. “As expected of my lotus! Always glowing in the light of her youth!”, he continued with his over enthusiastic praise. Tenji was now very used to his overly positive attitude that he was apparently born with, considering he was just as loud now, as he was when they were still children. Kakashi looked at her with a knowing look of second hand embarrassment as he nodded towards her “Yo, we‘re going inside Ichiraku’s now, join us whenever you’re ready Tenji-chan” he spoke in the warm, familiar manner, he always spoke in when talking to her. “Kakashi-san, I’m too tired. Next time?”, she replied, her eyelids noticeably droopy as he nodded in understanding, walking into the restaurant.

Guy stood in front of his new lover, feeling like his heart would explode with the surge of joy he felt to be near her after not getting to hang out much, especially in the past two months. Tenji stood before him and let out a deep sigh, knowing that she wouldn't have to worry about the dreadful walk home because her best friend and now lover would go to the ends to make her happy, as she would for him. Tenji looked up at him, her deep brown eyes never leaving his onyx ones as she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his large build, gripping on the back of his green jumpsuit, sighing heavily into his chest. Her heart fluttered, remembering that she could now hold him like this. He was hers now. Guy’s flak jacket draped her arms as he engulfed her in a warm embrace, strong arms wrapping firmly around her, pulling her impossibly closer. Her eyelids fluttered shut, comfort washing over her as he began to rub his large hand soothingly up and down her back making her eyelids feel like a ton of bricks as she finally gave in to keeping them closed. She relished in the heavy slumber that quickly crept up on her feeling like she was sinking deeper and deeper into her lovers addicting hold, but it was cut short as she was abruptly interrupted by the rumbling of Guy’s hard chest, a deep chuckle leaving his lips as he felt the weight of her body dip further into his. “Someones ready for a nap I see?” he spoke placing a soft kiss on her forehead, “Mmhmm”, was all Tenji had the strength to say, too tired to move her mouth into actual words, revelling in the pleasant warmth Guy’s soft caresses provided—despite the afternoon heat—bringing his fingers to brush the coily strand that escaped the loosely tied bun at the nape of her neck and tucked it back into place. Attempting to tuck the one strand in, the whole bun began to fall apart and Guy being the sweet bean he was,decided to fix the whole thing for her. Speaking to her, he continued to work on it, gently detangling her hair from the scrunchie that failed to keep her thick, dark brown coils neatly bundled up. “How about I take you home and help you wind down?” , he continued, finally able to pry the scrunchie from the last little coil that wouldn't let it go, careful not to hurt her. “Miss you”, she sounded muffled, snuggling further into his chest, a pang of happiness filling her chest at the action, taking in her favourite faint scent of lemon and a much stronger earthy smell. Guy began to softly brush her hair back with his palms, making sure to pull all escaping strands into the ponytail he was forming in his fist at the nape of her neck, now securing it all with the scrunchie. “Well let's get going precious”, he sighed out, gently prying himself free from her tight grip around him, quickly silencing her whine, turning around and gently tugging at her arm, easily pulling all her weight onto his back. A move that she was all too familiar with, Guy always treating her like the ‘precious flower’ he always described her as ever since they were younger. Her heart leaped along with him as he jumped up onto the nearest rooftop, maintaining a firm yet gentle grip on her thighs, a faint sigh leaving her lips and excitement bubbling up from the pit of her tummy, pleasantly spreading around the rest of her body as thoughts of the cuddles and attention she was going to receive clouded her mind. Why didn’t they get together any sooner? Not only did she have a whole entire week off, but she also scored time with her lover. It couldn't get any better than that.

#might guy #gai smut #gai x reader #might guy imagines #black women #naruto imagines

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dandelionflower · 5 years ago

Text

(Some salt fic september)

Francois DuPont was an artistic school. With talented students varying from designers, to journalists, to DJs, to comic artists and writers. The art room of the school was always the busiest, the loudest, and the favorite room of the school.

So it would make sense for the school to have a yearly showcase. It was called a talent show once upon a time, but eventually the staff and students agreed that ‘talent show’ didn’t suit the talents the students were bringing to the table. Thus, the Francois DuPont showcase was born.

Students worked for months on their piece for the showcase. More than fifty percent of the works in the art room were pieces for the showcase.

It wasn’t mandatory by any means, but most students with a talent in the arts would participate. But with almost all the students participating and some having more than one piece to showcase, the show usually lasted a few days.

Lila, of course, didn’t know any of that so when asked if she was participating in the showcase in a few months, she grinned and said “Of course!”

Alya lit up. “Great! It’s going to be my first showcase too, and I want someone who knows what I’m going through. C’mon, we have to sign up.” And she dragged her into the halls.

Alya immediately wrote her name underneath the ‘verbal’ column, putting a ‘journalism’ next to it.

Lila surveyed the options. The easiest thing to fake would probably be photography, so she marked her name under ‘media’ and wrote a ‘photography’ next to it.

“Ooh, photography? What do you take pictures of? Because I know Mari’s been looking for a partner to take pictures of her designs with her.”

Lila bit back a grimace. “Thanks, but I prefer to take pictures of...” Art? Buildings? “Nature. I find that taking pictures of people is narcissistic as a society.”

“Aren’t you a model?” A judgmental voice came from behind her.

“I- well-“ She stuttered.

“It’s completely different, Felix! Lila doesn’t think her photo shoots are art worthy, she’s just doing it as a job.” Alya snapped, throwing an arm out to almost shield Lila from the chill radiating from Felix’s entire person.

“Very well.” Felix stepped around the two and signed his name in perfect cursive beneath Lila’s name and walked away without another word.

“That guy gives me the creeps.” Alix remarked as she scratched her name under the ‘performance’ column, then the ‘piece of art that cannot be moved’ section.

“And he’s doing photography too! Don’t worry Lila, there’s no way he’s better than you.” Alya grabbed her arm reassuringly and began walking with her back to class.

“Yeah, right...” Lila held in a wince as she found her way back to her seat.

Surely photography can’t be that hard.

—

It was that hard.

Lila had waited one week before the showcase to start taking pictures on her phone. She walked to the park and snapped a few pictures, called it a day, and went home.

They were terrible. Blurry, ugly, terrible.

The next thing she tried was looking up stock images and photoshopping the watermark off.

She was awful at photoshop.

Finally, she resorted to her escape plan.

“Sorry, Alya. But I completely forgot that I’m volunteering at the elementary school all day on the day of the showcase, and I can’t just cancel on them. I’m so sorry.”

“Girl, it’s no problem! Marinette told me that the showcase is going to go on for four days. We’ll just reschedule your slot. It’s no problem at all.”

“Great.” She muttered through gritted teeth. “See you then.”

...crap.

She had only one plan now.

And it was risky.

—

Lila walked into class on Monday, prepared for her showcase.

She explained to Alya that when she explained what was going on to the leader of her organization, they gave her a rain check.

“I’m just so thankful.” She brushed away a tear. “I really wanted to make sure I could see everyone’s talents.”

“That’s so sweet!” Rose cooed. “I can’t wait to see your pictures either!”

“I just hope they correctly portray the beauty of my subject...” Lila pressed a hand to her chest in modesty.

“Students, I need all of the media students to come to the art classroom with your flash drives and cameras.” Miss Bustier put her phone down and smiled. “And anyone who paired with a media student for their talent please also join the students in the art room.”

Lila stood and gave everyone a hug. “Wish me luck!”

She noticed Sabrina stand as well and accept a half hearted hug from Chloe and a nod of support from Max. Juleka stood too and hugged Rose tight.

“Bye Alya! Wish me luck.” Marinette appeared from seemingly nowhere and hugged Alya tight. “And don’t be worried about your presentation. We’ll find some time to rehearse before tomorrow.”

“Thanks girl. Look after Lila for me? She’s just as new as I am.”

Marinette’s eyes darkened for just a second, but she quickly broke into a grin. “No problem. And don’t be worried, Lila. I’m sure your photos are just unimaginable.”

“Thanks Marinette. That’s just so sweet of you.” They linked arms and waltzed out of the room.

The moment they were out of eye shot of any of their classmates, they stepped aside.

“You don’t even have pictures, do you?” Marinette growled.

“What do you mean Marinette? Of course I have pictures.” She smirked. Or at least, I will in just a minute.

—

The art room was bustling and chaotic. Perfect for a camera or flash drive to go missing.

Marinette was bombarded by a group of kids from Felix’s class.

“Ready to see the product of our hard work?” A girl with two dark buns on the top of her head asked.

“I hope so.” She gave them a bashful smile.

Lila stopped paying attention. She had a goal in mind.

Her eyes landed on an expensive looking camera sitting on a desk at the side of the room. A sitting duck.

With a side glance for witnesses, Lila walked right by the camera and slipped the memory card right out and into her awaiting palm.

With her goal met, she sat primly in her chair, waiting for them to be called to the stage.

“Alright, photographers, models, actors, directors!” The art teacher stood. “Let’s go!”

Lila skipped up to him, a look of concern on her face. “Sir?”

“Yes Lila?”

“My camera broke on my way here and all I have left of it is my memory card; is there still a way for me to present my photos?”

“Of course there is. Don’t you worry a bit.”

“Perfect!” She grinned.

Once backstage, each student needed to give the teacher their SD cards or cameras and wait to be called onstage to describe their works to the audience.

Lila spared a quick glance towards the onlookers. Talent scouts of every kind were sitting in plush, reserved seats, notebooks and pens at the ready.

She was the first one up, the first one they would see and, unless she used all of her charisma and improvising skill, the first one they would forget.

“...and now, Lila Rossi with her photography!”

Lila strutted out to the greetings of applause.

“Hello, and let me just say I am so honored to be here today, especially considering that a year ago I wasn’t expected to be able to walk to school every day. Photography was really the only thing that got me through the day.”

A murmur of pity rippled through the crowd.

“Pictures like this one.” She pressed the clicker and a picture appeared on the screen behind her.

A picture of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, mid-twirl in a beautiful hand-made dress.

Lila heard Alya gasp.

“I wanted to show simultaneously the mundanity of walking and the undeniable splendor of it. My dear friend Marinette had some designs she was willing to model for me to help achieve my goal. Marinette, come on out!” She held a hand out, daring Marinette to come out from where she was waiting to go next along with her other friends.

Felix stood behind her with a look of horror and disgust on his face; and a particularly fancy camera hanging around his neck. A very familiar camera.

“No? Okay then.” She turned back to the crowd. “She’ll be out with a different group; Mari doesn’t want me to have to share the spotlight, isn’t she sweet?”

The crowd applauded and Lila continued making up technical terms and thought processes for each photo, all of which were of Marinette in different designs.

“Thank you.” She bowed deep before walking off the stage.

Now to hold her breath and hope that Marinette, Felix and all their friends were too chicken to call her out onstage.

—

“Now, with their short film; ‘solving love,’ please welcome Bridgette Cheng, Claude Lambert, Mercury Bernard, Allegra Harthorn, Felix Culpa, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Hey everybody!” A boy with brown hair and a blue striped shirt grabbed the mic and shouted. “How are we doing today?”

A scattered amount of applause.

“Nice! I’m Claude, and this is Bridgette.”

The girl with the buns waved.

“We were the main idea folks for this video; but the idea only came after the filming.”

Bridgette grabbed the mic. “We asked out friends if we could film them, and then a few weeks ago, we reviewed the film and noticed something... interesting.”

“Allegra here,” a girl with a long blonde braid waved, “did the music and Mercury,” a boy with dark glasses and a green beret, “did the narration. You’ll be seeing more of them soon. My cousin Mari,” Marinette waved, “and Felix are the main subjects of the film. You would have seen more of them, but for some reason Felix’s memory card went missing.”

Lila swallowed, this wasn’t great. The seeds of dissent were planted and now she had to risk either spinning another fake story or hoping that it all went well.

It’s not like they had any proof though; she should be fine.

“Anyway, here’s ‘Solving Love.’”

They all stepped to the side and the video began with a smooth piano.

“Love.” The screen showed couples going up to Andre’s and sharing ice cream. “The answer to everything. To ourselves, to the meaning of life, to the questions we cannot ask.”

“But how? How do we get from complete strangers, to people so close they are the same person?” The video changed to a showing of Marinette and Felix shaking hands, both with sardonic smirks. “People rarely get to see the entire process of when people fall in love; there are always pieces missing, hidden moments only for the people in question to recall. Love is left for the investigator to discover for themselves, when the time is right.”

“But maybe,” it showed Marinette talking animatedly, as Felix yawns beside her, “maybe one day, we’ll be lucky enough to see most of the picture.” Felix’s eyes droop and his head falls to rest atop Marinette’s, in the beginnings of a nap. Marinette flushes red.

The rest of the video shows the stages of Marinette and Felix’s relationship, from sarcastic rivals, to peers, to friends, to partners. The narrator described different relationships and how love is a constant through all of them.

The video showed Marinette dancing, twirling in a brilliant dress as Felix kneels and snaps pictures. “Ah, but is this all of it?” They lean down for a swift kiss. The image pauses there. “The full picture? Or is it only a snapshot,” the screen lights up white, “a minor clue, to solving love?”

The auditorium was quiet for what seemed like minutes. Then, the room burst into uproarious applause; a standing ovation.

Lila growled as she turned to sulk and maybe get her makeup so she could fake an injury and get some pity points to heal her bruised ego.

She ran face first into the grey suit of Mr. Damocles.

“Oh, hello sir.” She beamed. “Is there a problem?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yes Miss Rossi, there is. Did you take those pictures of Miss Dupain-Cheng? Because that video tells a different story.”

“Yes sir, I swear it.”

“You swear it, huh? Well you best come with me to the office. Miss Dupain-Cheng and her friends will join us when they’re done.”

“What?”

“Miss Rossi, you are accused of stealing Mr Culpa and Miss Dupain-Cheng’s creative work. We will be calling your mother to discuss this.”

Back on stage the crowd of students and talent agents alike had taken to shouting questions to the group of students.

#ml salt #lila salt #felinette #ml felix #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #quantic kids #ml claude #ml allegra #ml mercury #ml bridgette #ml alya

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bruhlsbees · 4 years ago

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Blurb idea! Okay so I wear alot of goth and punk clothing and I just love the idea of opposites attract pairings so like maybe a goth/punk/alternative reader with Alex? Like they meet at the bar on open mic night while she's preforming and he's like whoa she's so cool! But so out of my league💀 and he thinks he'll never get a chance and all of a sudden the reader comes up and is like hey you're cute wanna hang? And he is baffled lol

opposites attract || alex kerner x fem!alternative!reader

gif credit to @/lovecafes

summary: while singing at an open mic night in the bar, you catch the attention of someone least expected

pairing: alex kerner x fem!alternative!reader

word count: 2,313

warnings: drinking (alex and reader), alex being incredibly awkward, reader loving it and teasing him

a/n: hope you like this one!!! i thought this was an incredibly sweet idea - i imagine reader is singing something from the cranberries, like zombie or linger - this is also set a couple years after the events of goodbye, lenin! - i'd say in mid 90s

The last act had just left the stage when the host jumped on the stage, grinning out at the audience who continued to hoot and holler. It was open mic night down at the local bar, The Sour Apple, and for a last minute event, a lot of people turned out. The Sour Apple wasn’t your usual hangout. Typically you were in the basement smoking pot with the rest of your friends, or performing in backyards with your band - but you wanted a new change of scenery that night, and you thought - hell, an open mic might be fun.

You had invited a few of your friends and bandmates, hoping that maybe you’d be able to perform some of your new songs to test the crowd and see if they were feeling it or not. Only a couple of your friends showed, but the whole band came out and you were pleased. It took quite a bit of convincing, especially for your drummer, Reed, to tag along since apparently he had a bad history with The Sour Apple.

Not only that, but you all stook out like a sore thumb. Leather, studded belts, platform boots, multicolored teased hair, heavy makeup - you weren’t fazed by the stares you received when you walked in, all typical reactions when you went into a new place. Maybe that’s why you stuck to the typical spots, to avoid the judgement. It wasn’t like you cared, but it did get tiring after so long - feeling the stares on the back of your head while you just tried to enjoy life.

“Okay everyone, last call for anyone who wants to get up and participate in open mic!” The bar fell silent into hushed whispers, looking around to see if anyone else wanted to get up on stage. “Any takers? Come on now, don’t be shy!”

Turning towards the rest of your bandmates that were seated along the bar, you grinned their way before the bassist, Lee, shot up - beer spilling from the cup as you gained the host’s attention.

“Right here! We’ll come up!” He exclaimed, stepping off the barstool he was propped on and onto the main bar floor, turning and holding up his hand towards the bartender, “Five shots of jäger my good man!”

While the bartender poured out five shots, the rest of the band groaned, wishing that Lee hadn’t been the one to pick the shot. He was the only one to like the taste of the thick licorice. You only wished it was something more easy, like fireball or hell - Jack Daniel’s would suffice. But you braved the shot, clinking glasses with the rest of them before dumping your head back and letting the warm shot run down your throat.

You held in your gag as you sat the glass down, being pulled now by the guitarist, Winny, through the crowd and up onto the stage. As the singer, you took center stage, the spotlight blinding you as you held your hand up to block the light while you adjusted the mic stand, the rest of your band getting set up behind you.

“Hey everyone! We’re the Toxic Cats and we’ll be singing-” You stopped short, what were you going to sing? Turning around, you glanced towards Lee who shrugged before the other side at Winny who came up to the mic.

“You all know the Cranberries! How about their new song that just came out! You all liked that?” When the crowd erupted in cheers, you smiled weakly, looking at Winny who winked your way, “Looks like we got our song. Go kill 'em, Tiger.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“You gonna sing tonight, Alex?” Denis teased from his spot at the bar, downing the rest of his pint while he glanced over at Alex who was facing the stage, shaking his head. “I heard you got a real pretty voice.”

“Well whoever told you that is lying. Don’t think anyone wants to hear me sing. Sound like a rat stuck in a trap.” He explained, lifting his own pint up to take a drink from. He sighed and leaned back against the bar, blinking slowly as he watched the last act get off the stage before the host jumped on. Shaking his head, Alex exhaled slowly, turning back to face the bar.

As he turned, he caught the laughs that came from the other end of the bar. The group of alternative folks catching his attention. He didn’t mean to stare, but they were just so...different. They weren’t the typical crowd that hung around The Sour Apple, and it surely didn’t go unnoticed.

“Weird folk they are,” Turning, Alex furrowed his eyebrows at Denis who was drinking a new pint now, glancing at Alex, “They’re in a band...not a big fan of their music, but they’re pretty popular I’d say. I’ve seen a couple of their shows. Always doing something with fire or chanting in another language. Gives me the heeby jeebies.”

“I think you’re drunk, Denis.” Alex noted, rolling his eyes as Denis waved him off, insisting that he wasn’t while sloppily sipping from his pint. His attention fell back towards the end of the bar, towards the band as they now took shots before heading up onto the stage.

Through the crowd, Alex only noticed the red hair on you. It reminded him of a Coca Cola can - maybe that wasn’t the best comparison, but it’s what he thought! His posture returned to his original spot, leaning against the bar while facing the stage where you now stood center stage at. While your teased dyed red hair stood out the most, he also noticed your outfit, which surprisingly impressed him.

Starting at your feet, he noticed the high platform boots - you were probably taller than him in them. Alex also noticed the ripped tights, wondering if they came that way or if you did that yourself, under the black skirt that was tattered. You were wearing a band tee of some sorts, not recognizing the band. He had seen alternative girls before, but never once did he look at them the way he looked at you. You were pretty and Alex was awed by your mystery.

When you finally began to sing though, the familiar tune of the Cranberries, Zombie, harmonizing through the bar, his lips turned into a smile, straightening up to really be intune with the song. He had heard it a thousand times, but your cover, hearing it from you - it was more haunting and beautiful than anytime he heard it on the radio.

Alex felt hypnotized to your voice, leaning forward with his mouth gaped open as he listened, gaze remained fixed on you as you swayed on the mic or leaned against one of the other band members. He hadn’t even realized it was over until Denis shoved him, his attention snapping towards him.

“Jesus man, you’re drooling!”

His cheeks went hot, face red as Alex reached his hand up to his mouth, wiping away the drool with the back of his hand before turning back towards the bar, doing his best to ignore Denis who was laughing and in a drunk fit.

“Oh man, you got the hots for her don’t you? The singer! Man, I don’t think I would have ever taken you as the type,” Denis watched as the band made their way back towards their spot at the bar, high-fiving those in the crowd as they passed by them. When you were settled back in your seat, Denis stood up and grabbed the back of Alex’s jacket, pulling him up and with him towards the end of the bar, “Come on, go introduce yourself!”

Before Alex could protest, Denis shoved him towards you, stumbling forward and knocking into you. You turned around, ready to yell at whoever had knocked into you and made you spill your beer before your gaze softened, seeing Alex cowering.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, it’s fine...relax,” You let out a weak laugh and turned towards him, placing your now empty pint on the counter, “I’m a little disappointed though, someone just bought me that. I didn’t even get the chance to drink it.”

Alex smiled back at you, staring at you for a little too long before he knocked himself out of his trance, turning towards the bartender and holding up his hand.

“Two pints please!”

It didn’t take long for the bartender to fill up two new pints for the both of you. Scooting them forward while Alex picked up his, you picking up your own. You clinked your glass against his before taking a drink, setting your glass back down with a sigh.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” You introduced yourself and leaned forward, your right index finger swirling around the rim of the glass, “I’d like to thank the cutie who bought me my drink.” You sent a wink his way and grinned, seeing him look down briefly as his cheeks went pink.

“Alex, I’m Alex!” He introduced, sitting down finally on the barstool beside you. When you called him a cutie, his chest tightened, feeling flustered as he tried to think of what to say next.

“My favorite color is red!” He blurted, “How do you get your hair so big?”

Alex cringed at his question, closing his eyes and mentally slapping himself in the face. He was sure at that point he had lost all chance of impressing you, and he hadn’t even been talking with you for more than two minutes. But when you laughed and didn’t throw your drink in his face, he opened his eyes and smiled weakly.

“Lots of hairspray and teasing. Unfortunately I’m not the most eco-friendly with this hairstyle. Mother Earth is probably taking her revenge with all my split ends.” He let out a laugh at your joke, glancing at the guitarist of the band who turned in her stool, leaning forward.

“Or maybe it’s because you’ve just fried your hair. I’m telling you, you should just let it go natural.” You waved off Winny and nudged her back, your attention keeping fixed on Alex.

“So, Alex, did you just want to come over and ask me about my hair?” You took another drink from your pint, your gaze fixed on him as you watched him get flustered again, trying to think of the words to say. “You know, guys like you don’t usually go for girls like me. Did your buddy set you up for this?”

It had happened plenty of times. Pretty boys always got a kick out of embarrassing the alternative girl. You wouldn’t be hurt if this was what was going on, but you would be pissed to have your time be wasted. To your surprise though, Alex seemed to be different.

“No! I mean, well he pushed me over here, but not like that,” He rushed, leaning forward slightly in his stool, as if ready to catch you if you tried to turn away. “Your singing, I’ve never heard you guys before. You sound great! God, part of me was thinking that you sounded better than the Cranberries-”

“Better than the Cranberries? Now you’re just pulling my tail,” It was your turn to blush, cheeks red as you waved him off while he continued to praise you, his hand falling to your knee. You looked down briefly at his hand, smiling before back up at him, “Well, maybe you should come see one of our shows? I’ll get you a front row seat on the best couch in the basement.”

The best couch in the basement. Why did he have a feeling that this wasn’t something he had experienced before. He watched as you pulled a napkin from the bar, digging into your coat pocket before pulling out a pen, scribbing your number down before handing it over to him.

“Here’s the house number. If you call just ask for me, I’m usually around.” You looked up at him and smiled, opening your mouth to say another thing before hearing your bandmates call you for you behind, insisting that it was time to go. Frowning, you grabbed your coat and stood up, towering over him in your platform boots.

Your gaze kept on Alex who stared at the napkin, his smile stained on his face as he ran his thumb across the number. He looked cute, innocent, pure. All things you weren’t used to. When you heard Reed calling for you name, you nodded and waved them off before resting your free hand on Alex’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

But before he could answer, you were already turned and heading out of the bar, catching up to the rest of your bandmates who were climbing into the taxi to head back home. Standing up, Alex held the napkin in his hand, staring at the dark doorway that led outside of the bar. Of course he was happy, but damn - did you have to leave so quick?

Turning, Alex tucked the napkin neatly into his own jacket, making sure it was secured before making his way back to Denis, sitting back in his original spot. When Alex settled back in, he turned and looked at Denis who was laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Without saying a word, Denis motioned towards his own cheek, signaling for Alex to check his face. He reached his hand up and swiped at his cheek, noticing that your black lipstick had made it’s way onto his skin. He smiled to himself, feeling giddy inside before cleaning the rest off.

“So I take it went well?” Denis asked, leaning closer towards Alex. Smiling, Alex nodded and took a final sip from his pint.

“It went great, now come on, let’s get you home.”

#ask #nony #alex kerner #goodbye lenin #good bye lenin #alex kerner imagine #alex kerner x reader #alex kerner x you

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