#I wasn’t well today but f it I wanted to paint so I did >:3

[loopyarts]

Here’s a cute summer illustration of Teruteru and Hajime hanging out and enjoying a ice cream and slushy on the beach together along with their classmates.

Fun fact this artwork was supposed to be finished on last day of June since it a pride piece but I got busy and it taken till today to finish. Also happy pride uk because recently I found out, we celebrate pride in July and I went to my very first pride on Saturday. ^^

[garbinge]

The Original Swiftie Of Chicagoland

Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader 30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 2.6k words A/N: Back at it with everyone's favorite <3 This is a little more cutesy-cringe kick your feet and giggle than I usually write but I hope you all still enjoy!! Also please be kind, I have not attended the eras tour so there might be inconsistencies there!

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content.

The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth @fancyvoidtragedy @shinebright2000 @knight4xmas @gills-lounge @navs-bhat @cosmicak (have been a bit inactive on tumblr so this might not be up to date, if you'd like to be added to my The Bear taglist please shoot me a message!) Other fics from this universe

Richie’s voice was like a morning alarm to you as he spoke up in the car. You had began to doze off a few minutes ago, as you came to it you recalled the last thing you remember talking about. 

“What’s your favorite Taylor Swift song?” You had asked Eva as you all waited in the drop off line. 

“Enchanted.” Her answer was quick but not as quick as her follow up. “Taylor’s Version.” 

“Always TV.” You leaned back in your seat when she answered, your hand extending out to turn the radio up slightly since there was a Taylor mix currently going. 

“My Dad’s taking me to go see her, at the Era’s tour. I’m making friendship bracelets at school, too.” 

“That’s going to be so much fun.” You meant what you said but you felt the sleep starting to fade over your eyes. It had been a late one the night before, you were up searching for those cards for your dad and one thing turned into another and suddenly your entire apartment looked like it threw up boxes and memories. 

When Richie texted to see if you were up and wanted a ride to the restaurant, it felt silly to say no despite the complete lack of sleep you were running on. 

It was now that Richie’s voice was alerting you awake. “Sorry I think I fell asleep.” 

“You did, I brought you back home.” He was pointing over to your apartment building. “You’re shot, ain’t no way you’re gonna help tear down walls today.” 

“Tear down walls?” You questioned, when you offered to help today you thought it’d be painting or planning, not demolition. 

“Yea there was a raccoon, and then the pipe with the thing, so it’s all gotta come down.” 

“You miss one day and you miss everything.” Your hands were rubbing your eyes until they waved him off. “I’m fine, I can help Nat with something.” 

“Humor me.” Richie’s eyes closed in a tad bit of frustration. “How bout I come pick you up later in the afternoon.” 

“Only if you bring me whatever Syd’s making for lunch.” You were starting to grab your things when Richie stopped you. 

“Um, real quick.” You could tell he was feeling weird about something, he was stumbling a little bit on the few words that he was speaking which wasn’t like him with you. 

“What’s up?” You fell back against the passenger seat, your head leaning to the left to stare at him.

“Sorry, I should just ask you later.” He shook his head, and turned to put his car back on so he could leave. 

“Ask me now.” You smiled. 

“Nah it’s fine.” He couldn’t make eye contact with you. 

“Richie, I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me.” The fake seriousness washed over you and that made Richie look over at you and sigh in defeat. 

“You know how Eva mentioned that Errors Tour.” 

“Eras.” You corrected him with a smirk. “Yes, I do.” 

“Yea, well, Cicero he got me 3 tickets, and I was wondering, I mean, if you wanted to come with me–us.” Watching Richie stumble on his words was humorous to you, the smile grew large on your face. 

“Are you asking me out, Richie?” 

It had been a while of whatever this was with Richie, and the two of you skipped over the going out on dates phase and went straight to the sex and sleepovers at each other’s places. It made it understandable why he was nervous in asking right now. 

“Yea, I mean– Eva also asked if you could come.”

“Well then I can’t say no.” 

He looked at you, and the Richie you knew came out for a minute, “but if it was just me asking you would’ve?” 

“I would’ve thought more about it.” You teased him, not being able to keep your face neutral as you said it. “I don’t want to interrupt though.” 

“Trust me, I think I need you there, I don’t know shit about this.” 

“Oh, you realize this is going to consume you over the next few weeks, the Era Tour isn’t just a concert, it’s a lifestyle, we have to plan–prep, there’s going to be jewels, glue, tulle, and glitter, lots of glitter.” 

Richie looked at you with a bit of a crazy look. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle the outfits, all I’m gonna need from you is Taylor on repeat, everytime you’re in the car.” 

“I already feel like I do that.” He chuckled and turned to you thinking you’d be laughing too but your face was serious. “Alright, yea, I’ll listen.” He lifted his hands up. 

“Great, I’ll get started on everything else.” You started to gather your things, despite the conversation between you two, the exhaustion was still front of mind for you. 

As you moved to step out of the car, and close the door, you bent down to look at Richie. “You know you’re not getting me out of bed until I have a full 12 hours of sleep, right?” 

He turned the gear of his car into drive and nodded. “Yea I know, I wasn’t gonna come in the afternoon, just knew it’d be the one thing that’d get you out of the car.” 

________

You were currently painting the 13 on Eva’s hand to match your own, she chose purple glitter to match her dress, a child’s version of the enchanted dress. You had on a custom denim jacket that called out all the different eras of Taylors paired with a “I <3 T.S.” t-shirt. 

“Do you think we’ll match?” Eva looked down at her dress and began to twirl. 

“Totally, but honestly?” You faked looking around to make sure no one was around before whispering. “I think you’ll have her beat.” 

This made the girl giggle until Richie walked into the room. “We got like 15 minutes before we should head out, the traffic is going to be awful, I hate driving to the Soldier Field, it's a nightmare.” His stress completely paused as he looked up and saw his daughter. “Wow you look beautiful, kiddo.” He squatted down to be at eye level with her and smiled as she twirled around again. 

“You need to get ready.” She stopped twirling and took a look at Richie. 

He looked down and frowned, “I am ready, babe.” 

“No you need an outfit.” Those last two words were emphasized so deeply that even though Richie had no context or understanding of The Era’s tour aesthetic, he fully understood what his daughter was talking about. 

“Oh no, I was just gonna go like this, I–” 

You cut him off, “I got you a little something” You moved to take something out of the bag you packed. “And I think we can convince your dad to have a 13 on his hand, right?” 

“Yes!” She gripped her fist and chugged her arm down as she said it. 

“Here.” You handed the t-shirt to Richie. He practically did everything but roll his eyes as he grabbed it and unfolded it. It was a blue t-shirt and in the upper left corner was The Beef’s logo but in place of the typical large “BEEF” writing was the word “SWIFTIE” in all caps so the whole thing read “The original SWIFTIE of Chicagoland.” 

“I knew it’d be like pulling teeth to get you in anything else.” He turned the shirt around so now Eva could see it. 

“It’s kind of perfect.” She nodded in acceptance. 

“Yea it is.” His head raised to look at you and nod in gratitude. 

“But you’re not getting out of the 13, let’s go, if I just do the outline we can be on the road in 5 minutes and we’ll make it with plenty of time.” 

_____

The seats were phenomenal, although you couldn’t put it past Cicero to know someone who knew someone to get seats like this. Your seats were on the floor and you hadn’t been to a concert in the pit like this in years, and you’d never been to one where they had seats set up in the pit. This was next level. 

“Are you overwhelmed.” It was a question spoken more as a statement as Eva guided both of you to your seats. 

“Very.” He said looking around at everything. 

Once the show started, the overwhelmingness of the concert itself disappeared and the insanity of the show took over. It was truly a production and a work of art combined. The crowd was electric, the lights from the wristbands, the screams, the costumes, on stage and in the crowd, it was incredible. 

As the entire stage turned purple, everyone’s bands flashed a purple tone, and the screens on the stage rose up, you could see a large purple dress appear and instantly you felt the tug at your jacket and Eva was grabbing you to stand up on the chair. Her face lit up in a smile as she saw Taylor practically matching her. 

As she began singing Enchanted, you turned to Eva and began singing with her, you knew this was her favorite song and this was a moment she had been waiting for all night. You were dancing with her, twirling her around, she’d twirl you around, a real core moment for the both of you honestly. Richie was on the other side of the young girl, making sure she didn’t fall but you’d catch his gaze falling on you occasionally and just act like you didn’t. Each time you’d immediately turn back to Eva and then the stage. Funny how in the midst of a crowd of thousands of people, you could feel like the only people there. Your face felt hot, not in embarrassment but just high off the vibes of everything. The atmosphere, the song. All of this running through your mind as you swayed back and forth mumbling “enchanting to meet you” right before the first chorus outbreak.

Quickly your mind had little to no thoughts in it as Eva screamed in your ear as the chorus began, and similarly she did as the bridge started but this time with every beat she was stomping her feet causing you and Richie to both move to the girl so she didn’t fall off the seat but she had balanced herself with no help needed. 

It was a moment later that you felt Richie’s hand on yours, you realized he had gone to grab fingers and intertwine them in his own There was no purpose behind it, there was no guiding you through the crowd, he was just holding your hand as one of the most, well, most enchanting songs played in the background. 

You looked over at him, and his eyes on you felt hot in passion, the nerves were like static in your gut, similar to an anxiety but for the very opposite reason. It was crazy, you had spent nights unclothed, tangled in sheets with this man, he saw you break down and cry in some of your most vulnerable moments and yet this felt like the first time you were admitting feelings for eachother, because in some way it was. Till this moment everything was very unspoken, and with everything happening around you it felt like the spotlight was on the both you, like the crowd around you was there waiting for you two to announce your love. Obviously that was not the case, no one was looking at you, no one could have given two shits what you two were doing, including Eva. 

It was then that the song ended, her voice as she cheered and screamed snapped both you and Richie out of it and back to the stage, your hands unclasping like someone had come and ripped them apart. 

“I said remember this moment, in the back of my mind, the time we stood with our shaking hands, the crowds in stands went wild.” 

Your eyes couldn’t help but dart over at Richie as you took in the lyrics and while he didn’t look directly at you, he did look down, a little embarrassed and smiled with a chuckle. 

______________

You were stuck in standstill traffic just trying to get out of the stadium’s parking lot. Richie was visibly annoyed, Eva was in the back seat, knocked out, at one point her mile a minute breakdown of the concert just went silent. 

“I think her brain powered down.” You laughed as you peaked back at her sound asleep, purple dress still on but an oversized concert t-shirt was over it now. 

“She’s going to talk about this night for the next month, easily.” He laughed. 

“It was a good night.” You turned back around and settled in the seat, your eyes fell on Richie, “one to remember.” 

The car got silent, Richie was nodding, the snores from the backseat hummed lightly and the honks from the cars around you made you look around at the crowds of people and just utter chaos occurring around you. And yet, you felt none of it sitting in this car right now. 

“You know, I uh–do you remember when you brought those pictures to the restaurant?” The tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel were getting quicker. 

“Yea, when you guys had just started remodeling.” You nodded looking over at him. 

With a nod and a deep swallow he kept talking. “There was one, it was taken right before you left and it just reminded me how I feel like I’ve always been on the sidelines of it all, you know?”

You didn’t want to disappoint him or make him feel like what he was feeling wasn’t valid, but truthfully you were a little confused. “No, I don’t.” It was immediate that his face fell and you knew you only had seconds to recover. “But tell me.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever belonged anywhere. Mikey brought me in as family but like I was never a Berzatto.” 

“Now that I get.” Your hands were fidgeting as you admitted to it, Carmy brought you in, but there was always that lingering feeling. 

He was searching in his pocket for his phone, and quickly brought the picture up to show you. 

“The picnic.” You nodded and remembered it so well.

 “Look where we are.” He pointed in the background. You were both off to the side, cup in hand, not in the craziness of it all but also not standing next to each other either. 

Suddenly you smiled. “Richie?” You asked him looking up as your nostrils flared and eyebrows raised. “Did Miss Taylor Swift’s Long Live make you reminisce a little bit?” 

He stuttered a little bit, laughed and then shook his head as he put his phone away. “No, alright, I just, the whole sidelines thing sparked the thought is all.” He was adjusting the gear shift like the massive line of traffic wasn’t still in front of you. 

“Taylor Swift, Richie Jerimovich’s muse.” The singsong voice you had was enough for him not to get annoyed with you and act more amused by it all. 

“Yea yea, laugh it up, I just, being on the sideline now isn’t all that bad.” 

That was when you stopped joking and looked at him, a soft smile on your face and you nodded and moved to squeeze his hand. 

“No, it’s not.” 

[dilutedconfusion]

A Moth to a Flame

Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 3)

UMMM SOOOO YA’LL ARE LIKE THE NICEST PEOPLE EVER. Kisses and hugs to everyone who gives a semi-shit about what I write. I wrote this BEHEMOTH of a chapter and I personally think plot wise its my best yet. So get out your forks and knifes cause we eatin good today!

Summary: Having just found out Kid is a super big time murder machine Y/N is left in shock whilst sitting at the bar. Kid and Y/N finally have a coherent and tangible conversation. Emotions arise but Kid is still a total grump. In a fit of stupidity and some grief Y/N does something that I would not advise doing if you’re not like a professional idiot or something.

Warnings: Gore, NSFW (nothing actually happen theres just some sweet innuendos and mentions of NSFW related things)

Word Count: 6.3K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tags: @st4rfevrr @archangelshavethetardis @likeeliterallywtf @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @tulipps-maehem (At this point, if you comment something I’m smacking ya right in the tag lists. If you don’t want that just tell me! I’m totes fine with it.)

Kid took a sip of his rum. The cool yet bitter liquid burned his throat and swirled in the deep parts of his gut. Leaning back against the pleather booth he let out a little sigh. His arm was still throbbing like a bitch. Another sign that a strong wave of phantom pain would soon be coming on. But he tried not to think about it. Hoping his brain would stop the onslaught of pain if he got it drunk enough.

Killer was sitting across from him. Using a straw to take periodic sips of his beer. They had been sitting here for a good bit but hadn’t talked too much. A comfortable silence sat between them as it usually did. Kid’s stump randomly twitching now and then though he kept his eyes closed as he tried oh-so desperately to relax.

Watching him quietly Killer noticed the small twitching movement of his partners arm. “Is it hurting again?” He asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible despite his worry.

Trying to hold himself back from being a total asshole, Kid spoke. Opening one eye and letting out a dry sigh. “I lost a fucking arm. What do you think?”

Was that the nicest reply? No. But if anyone other than Killer would have asked that question Kid would’ve just punched them. So he was getting off easy in Kid's terms.

Killer stayed quiet for a moment, grimacing under the space of his mask. “Well, you look a little strained. Is the liquor helping or making it worse?”

Kid finally opened both his eyes, leaning forward and putting an elbow up on the table in front of him. “Helping. Now quit pestering me about this shit.” Kid grabbed his glass and took another long chug of his rum. Finishing out the last bottle he had asked the bartender to make him.

Letting out a hearty burp he felt his torso sway a bit as he sat. He wasn’t drunk but he could feel that warm goopy feeling building up in his brain. Staring blankly at the rest of the vacant and dimly lit room. Listening quietly to the sounds of people in the front room of the bar. The waiter who had taken his order was working the bar itself so he knew she was going to take a while to make an extra round.

“Want me to go get ya some more? I’ll order some food so you don’t crash as hard later.” Killer murmured out, already slightly sliding to the left to get on his feet.

That made Kid's red-painted lips scrunch up, waving his hand at Killer to stop. “Get your ass back on that seat. I got it.” Kid let out a grunt and started sliding off the booth to a stand. His body swayed just slightly but he stood up normally. His huge fur coat lay discarded on the booth seat.

Kid turned towards it and picked it up. His body felt stiff like an old piece of wood. Nearly groaning at even the slightest movement and it annoyed the shit out of him. Feeling light-headed he swung his coat over his shoulders. It was a bit difficult considering the lack of an arm but Kid has since gotten used to it. Making sure that his stump was at least halfway hidden by the fur of his coat. The bandages and torn scars running along his chest were mostly hidden, though he couldn’t hide the fresh scars on his face.

“Ya know…you don’t need to hide it. They are proof that you made it through something shitty after all.” Killer whispered to Kid, knowing it was a sensitive spot on his poor Captain's mind.

Kid’s face stayed sharp and demeaning but Killer's words had gotten to him even if just a little. Letting out a huff of air he responded, “Ya don’t think I know that? I just want everything to heal a bit more. Then I’ll show it off.” With that Kid started walking away from the table, leaving Killer in his lonesome.

He bounded past the other booths. His boots hitting the wooden floor below loudly as he made his way to the other part of the building. The sounds of casual conversation floating towards him along with the satisfying sound of taps being drawn while the bartender siphoned out beer.

Walking up the two small steps that separated the rooms he could feel the air around him get just a tiny bit warmer. The low crackling fire tracing the room with a rich wooden scent and faint smoke. Walking up to the bar he paid no mind to those around him. Leaning up against the wood as another much stronger wave of pain shot up through his stump.

Shit. He thought, gritting his teeth. He would give anything to start rubbing his arm. Soothing the muscles trying to avert whatever pain would come next. But as that same waiter came up to him he had no choice but to deal with it.

She had that same polite smile on her face. Standing on the other side of the bar, her hands filling up beer glasses as she talked. “Run out? Sorry, I didn’t make a round back there. We’re pretty short-staffed right now. What can I get ya?”

“More of the same. And…some fried chicken.” Kid mumbled out, settling down onto the barstool nearest to him. The woman looked him over for a moment. Glancing at his stump and bandages for only a second. Her face turned a bit contorted in what Kid could only assume was disgust before brightening up once again.

Never seen a guy with some wounds eh? Kid thought, almost wanting to say that out loud. If he wasn’t so tired and beat up he would’ve.

Well in truth if he wasn’t in pain he'd be drinking his ass off and winning bar fights. But he was in pain, his throbbing stump a reminder of that.

“Sounds good. I can walk it back there when it’s ready.” She said in that same sweet customer service tone.

Kid just rolled his eyes at her. “I sat down. I’ll stay here and wait. Can’t go back expecting you to remember to bring the damn food.”

The bartender cringed a bit at that but remained neutral regardless. “Sounds good. Let me go get that started for you.” She said awkwardly. Walking away from Kid in a bit of a rush and heading towards what he supposed was the kitchen door.

Kid eyes watched her as she disappeared, letting out a soft tongue click in annoyance. Eventually, his eyes just started drifting. His right hand once again itching to rub his poor stump but he held back. He looked down the line of the barstools absentmindedly to take note of the few people littering the room.

However, something made his eyes pause. They hovered over a girl. She was sitting at the other end of the bar, holding up a newspaper and looking it over as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Wait a fucking minute. I’ve seen her before.

It’s not like he didn’t expect it to some extent but a part of him had already forgotten what a weird little stalker you were. He glanced over your body, seeing the same clothes, jacket, and satchel he’d seen earlier.

Damn, it is the same chick.

He just kept staring at you wondering exactly when you were going to notice him. Your eyes were so glued to the newspaper your damn nose was nearly shoved in it. Even though Kid didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, he couldn’t help but rub your face in your obvious fuck-up.

“So you really-”

“WAH!” Your body jerked randomly hearing that deep voice once again. The newspaper crinkled as your fingers dug into it. Your whole body turned towards Kid at the other end of the bar but leaned away as if he was diseased. “Goddamn it! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“What the fuck?” Kid mumbled out, brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at your beet-red face. Soft eyelashes blinking over and over at him again as if you couldn’t tell if he was real or not.

“What do you mean what the fuck? You snuck up on me!” You yelled, voice faltering a tiny bit as you realized just how LOUD you were being. Covering your mouth with one hand to almost suppress the sheer adrenaline running through your veins.

You hadn’t expected to be talking to him, especially since he was the one to initiate it. The mortifying news about him on the paper mixed with his sudden appearance and this lunging feeling in your gut was a lot to handle.

Kid narrowed his eyes at you, face more bemused than annoyed by what an idiot you were being. “I didn’t fucking sneak up on you. I’ve been sitting here for like 5 minutes just starin’ at your ugly ass and you didn’t even notice me.” He turned the barstool a bit more towards you, leaning his good arm against the bar gingerly.

Taking your hand off your mouth you leaned forward towards him. The multiple chairs between the two of you made the distance of the conversation a bit awkward but that wasn’t going to stop you from being an asshole. “Well if my ass is so ugly, why were you staring?”

Kid's lip twitched at that, his cheeks almost daring to blush red but he held it back. He didn’t like that you had taken his insult in that way. But before he could let it affect him he let the first thing he thought of slip past his tongue.“Cause it's so damn horrific I couldn’t look away. Plus you might as well have been licking that newspaper by the way you were holding it. Following my order like a good little puppy eh?”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, still holding onto the newspaper rather tightly in one hand. Looking down at it for a moment like you should be ashamed before frowning at him. Kid watched and bathed in your reaction, a condescending smile on his lips. It made you reel with anger. Wanting to slap that shit-eating grin off him until he was black and blue.

“I ain’t looking at this 'cause you told me to! I wanted to do this because you wouldn’t tell me who you are. Just so happens that I know who you are now and if my calculations are correct, you’re a total asshole and a lunatic. Though I probably didn’t need the newspaper to figure that first one out.” You told him, voice quiet enough so the whole bar didn’t hear but your tone was condescendingly lethal.

Again Kid just stared at you for a moment. If anyone else would’ve given him even one-quarter of a verbal punch that you just gave him they would’ve been dead on the ground. But he was tired and though he would never admit it, your comeback was good. Letting out a strong puff of air through his sharp nose to calm his urges he decided to take the argument in a different route. One that would give him the advantage over someone who had just a tiny bit of bite to them.

“I get it, sweetcheeks. You’re desperate to know me. To get my attention. Thought you could read up on me so you could handle the real thing easier but clearly you can’t.” Kid said, raising his hand in the air so ‘matter of factly’ though his tone was anything but serious. The glint of his teeth as he smiled and the way his low voice rumbled just made you angrier by the second.

A small tint of red rising on your cheeks out of pure embarrassment. Making mouth go agape for just a moment before you concocted a comeback.

“Q-Quit acting like you're the shit, you glorified puffball. I figured out who you are and if you’re anything like how this newspaper is portraying you in real life, then I should go get a pitchfork and a torch to exile your ass.” You flipped open the newspaper and pointed it towards him. Showing him the two pictures of him committing crimes aplenty.

Hearing you call him a puffball made Kids lack of eyebrows raise in confusion, wondering why in the hell you thought he looked like a puffball. You could see the gears in his head turning as he looked down at his chest to notice the large fur coat he was wearing. Yet still, after another second of mental debriefing, he put two and two together.

“Hey don’t fucking call me a puffball!” Kid said in a slight snarl, a tiny bit of red gracing his cheeks at your comparison. Leaning forward he eye’d the pictures you were holding up. “And I look great there so I don’t know what you’re getting at. They got all my best angles. Even a good picture of me back in my start-up.”

This time it was your turn to be confused, pointing sharply at the pictures of him and even raising out your arm so he could see it better. “So we're just going to ignore all the murder. Ya know, like right here and here and here.” You pointed at the dead crucified bodies hanging limply on their crosses. Blood and splattered guts dripped out of the slightly blue and cold-looking bodies.

Kid rolled his eyes, looking at you as if you’d just said the earth was flat. He rubbed his chin almost to feign boredom as he spoke. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

And with that, you smacked yourself in the face with your palm. Rubbing a hand over your temple and scrunching your face in a mesh of lines that represented pure annoyed disbelief. Taking a deep breath you responded, “Look, I ain’t your mommy and I ain’t going to tell you what you can and cannot do. But, this is my island. You do this shit here and don’t think you’ll be leaving with all your vital organs intact.”

“Well by the sounds of it maybe I should do just that. Give me some entertainment with a good little fight.” Kid immediately quipped back, his face returning to that patronizing smile you oh-so hated.

At this point, it felt like maybe you were talking to a wall. One that was so caught up in having an argument with you he didn’t want to take you seriously. “You are just a complete fucking menace aren’t you?” That was all you could say, almost dumbfounded by his stupidity.

“I am and the people dig it. Can’t say a little danger doesn’t get ‘em all hot and bothered.” He remarked, his shit-eating grin growing even wider as he tilted his head and leaned towards you a bit more. Your face just went completely flat. Void of all emotion except annoyance and the painstaking wish he had said anything but that.

“I love it when people lie through their teeth to my face.” You said so flat and lifeless a robot might as well have said it.

Kid's eyebrows scrunched up a tiny bit, not at all pleased he didn’t get the reaction out of you he wanted. He wasn’t flirting with you, or at least that's what he thought when he said it. In all honesty, Kid has the same flirting skills as goldfish. Just making bubbles and floating by expecting someone to get drawn in by how shiny his scales were. So when he said that he actually just wanted to see you embarrassed like you had made him feel. Little to say it was the first time he felt genuinely peeved by you.

“I ain’t lyin'. I’m a big-time pirate that’s big in more places than one. What more could someone want?” He clamored out, trying to lean into his more cocky attitude. Again his innuendo is less about stroking his ego and more about getting a reaction out of you. He didn’t need confirmation that his dick was big. But he wanted you to blush because he told you.

Your eyes twitched a bit when he said that. Not knowing exactly how to interpret why he was bragging to you and most definitely not taking it as flirting at all.

As if a cocky asshole like him would ever flirt with me, he just wants me to feel small and worthless doesn’t he?

Giving him a blank dead stare you spoke, “What more could a person want? Well…I don’t know, maybe literally anyone but you.”

Kid would never in a million fucking years admit it but that shit stung. He usually never lets people's opinions cloud his view of himself. They were nobody to him so why care?

Then why the fuck am I taking what she said seriously? He mulled over this thought for a moment feeling almost ashamed that he let anything you say get through his impenetrable skin.

But he beat himself out of that thought, scowling harder than ever before and clenching his one good hand until his knuckles turned white.

You noticed this despite the multiple barstools that took up the space between the two of you. Face once dead of emotion now alight in a wave of slight nervousness and even a bit of regret.

Why the fuck did I say that? To a murderer of all people? Do I want to get killed that badly?

Kid felt his stump throb in pain once again like a hammer cast in flames slamming into every single nerve. He grits his teeth hoping you didn’t notice before responding. “Like your opinion of me matters. Quit acting like you know me. You’re nothing compared to what I am.”

You watched him carefully, eyeing the way his muscles uncomfortably tensed underneath his fur coat. The slight sheen of sweat on his brow became a bit more noticeable in the low light. It made a strange feeling of guilt swirl deep in your core seeing him like that. He was a total douchebag but it felt wrong kicking him when he was down.

“I don’t know you but I’ve met people like you. More than I’d like to admit.” Your tone was soft as you spoke, not looking him in the eye as you held on to the newspaper in an almost delicate way. “I’m just saying I don’t trust you. And…if I’m right then I have every reason to be cautious. Reading this newspaper gives you a ‘I’ll kill everyone’ air.”

Kid watched you as you spoke. His amber eyes were sharp and clear as he noticed the change in tone. It didn’t bother him but in his opinion, it sounded like the most truthful thing you’ve said so far. “I don’t just kill everybody. I have some restraint ya know.”

“Well according to this newspaper, you kill pretty much anyone all the time. To the point that it's what you are known for. I mean, look at this headline, it says slaughtering right there.” You pointed to the headline once more, laying the newspaper flat on the bar before picking up your glass. The sight of rotting flesh in the pictures forcing your heart to lurch each time you even glance at it.

“Well, all of the people I kill fucking deserve it. Do you think I hand out mercy out of sympathy for worthless people? The motherfuckers get in my way so they deserve to be in the ground.”

Kid’s voice was harsh with conviction as he spoke. As if he's said this same thing nearly a thousand times. You took another quick sip of your daiquiri. Licking the sugar off your lips with a quick swipe before glancing back over at him.

“So…are you going to do that here? On this island? String me up by my belly and let my intestines slip out?” You asked him quietly, eyes boring into him with an intensity he hadn’t seen from you before. It felt raw and almost threatening. Like you were daring him to try because you knew he would lose.

He wanted to be annoyed and he wanted to punch you right in the jaw. Snap you out of whatever diluted sense of power you seemed to be feeling. But his stump was still soaring with pain. He was managing it sure but he knew if he started moving around too much he’d topple over. So instead he resorted to using his words, which was his least favorite thing to do. “Well…I’m thinking about it but…I’m not in the mood. It's too worthless to kill someone so weak. I have bigger fish to fry.”

Your eyes narrowed, reading into him for even a sliver of deception. You didn’t know what kind of man he was. Supposing he was a liar and cheat like most of the men who traveled the sea were. So you prodded him deeper, trying to find the root of his honesty. “Could your lack of motivation to kill me…have anything to do with those injuries of yours?”

You glanced at his stump and bandages running across his chest. The scabbed-over and healing scars on his face were still red and puffy from their recent affliction. Kid's eyes widened and he leaned back away from you ever so slightly. Hating the fact that you dare mention his injuries. Hating the fact that you thought they were making him weak. That they were holding him back.

That rage he had been holding in ever since it happened started to bubble up. The same rage that he felt for his crew members when they pitied him. The same rage he felt for himself. He had to look away, trying to regain himself. Control his overwhelming urges to not only split your face open but break every piece of furniture within ten feet of him.

He finally looked back at you, ready to scream his head off, “Don’t you dare-”, but he paused.

It was surprising to see your face like that.

It stopped him dead in his tracks, his once boiling rage now a soft simmer within only a second.

Kid didn’t know how to describe it. It was like you weren’t looking at him for who he was. For the scars he held. Those eyes of yours were looking at him for what he is. Deep somber orbs filled with nothing but…empathy?

No…that’s not the right word. It doesn’t feel…like it’s meant to be helpful or caring. Not an ounce of pity.

Familiarity. She knows how I feel.

Kid wasn’t good at reading people's emotions. He could barely understand his own emotions most of the time. So it was strange how he met you in the middle with just a glance.

Even though it didn’t last more than a few seconds.

“I have another pitcher of beer, a tall glass of rum, and that chicken you ordered.” Came the voice of the waiter. Walking through the swinging door with a large tray in hand carrying all the contents she mentioned.

Your face contorted to embarrassment as you watched the waiter stride up towards Kid. He had to force himself to look away from you, wanting to continue the conversation with you despite himself.

What the fuck has gotten into me?

Kid nearly rolled his eyes at himself. Feeling a pang of heat cross his cheeks he let out a grumbling cough to mask it. The waiter placed the tray carefully in front of Kid at the bar.

“Sorry for the wait but does everything look good?” She asked, sliding her body behind the bar and eyeing both Kid and you. Her eyes were bouncing between the two of you a bit, clearly wondering the origins of the tension floating in the air.

Oh god. She even knows I was researching him. You thought to yourself. Feeling like you’d been caught in the act of doing something reckless and stupid.

Kid stared down at the tray, his jaw tight as he let out a deep breath of air he’d been holding in. “It’s fine.” He grumbled, again that ache in his stump making his eye twitch.

Sliding his weight down onto the floor he stood up. His back cracked a bit as he rolled his shoulders trying to subside the ache. You watched him silently. Gliding your eyes gently across his wide shoulders. How the strong muscles there tensed and rolled as he moved. His smooth pale mounds of warm skin with bandages on every other inch lingering in your mind. His height was just as demeaning as you remember it though you still were a good ten feet away.

Always close enough to talk but not close enough to be considered next to him.

His hand tugged his coat around his shoulders a bit more, before he haphazardly tried to pick up the tray. His thick and lacquer-covered fingertips tried to dig under the tray without spilling anything. His one-handed skills at doing pretty much anything got in the way of even the simplest tasks of his life.

“You sure…you don’t need a little help?” The waiter softly asked. Watching Kid as she cleaned off the countertops with a rag.

“Say that again and don’t expect to be going home tonight with a tongue.” Kid spat back, his voice dripping with venom.

The waiter again nearly clammed up but backed off almost immediately. She was used to dealing with pirates but…this man was on a whole other level. Staying quiet and walking over towards your side of the bar instead.

She glanced at you but you didn’t pay much attention. Instead, you were trying to slyly watch as Kid finally wound his large hand underneath the tray. Holding it up easily on his palm at shoulder level before starting to walk away. Disappearing through a doorway without even a second glance towards you.

You let out a small displeased huff of air. At least expecting a glance or chance to continue that conversation. You felt like you were getting somewhere with that. Getting to know him a bit better. It was interesting beyond belief and if someone asked you if you’d rather stay at home in safety or talk to a scary pirate. Well…you would choose a scary pirate every time.

It felt nostalgic and it made your boring life more lively. That is until the waiter got in the way.

“You okay hun? He didn’t threaten you right?” She asked softly, giving you a sympathetic smile as she continued to wipe the bar.

You gave her a little quirk of a smile purely just for show. Not willing to give her a hard time for breaking up your conversation with that man. “Yeah, I’m fine. He did nothing wrong.”

“Well that I don’t believe. Seems to me like he's nothing but a walking pile of wrong.”

You stayed silent at first. Fiddling with your glass a tiny bit before finally picking it up to your lips and finishing the last of it off. Gulping it down and feeling the smooth taste of it run down to swirl in your gut.

“Well sometimes��a whole lotta wrong is just right.”

__________

No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t force yourself to stand up and walk into the back room of the bar. To go face that redhead again and his masked friend.

His name is not redhead, it's Kid. Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid. That thought dawned upon you as you thought over your conversation with him. You knew his name but hadn’t spoken it out loud even once. Even now his name stays within the confines of your mind. You had learned it while reading the newspaper along with the aforementioned Massacre Soldier, that blondie that’s with him.

Mulling over the idea of going and talking to them you tried to hype yourself up multiple times to gain the courage.

Come up with a catchy one-liner that would make you just a bit more likable. Maybe say nothing and sit down next to one of them like you own the place.

Assert dominance. Yeah….no.

You had no reason that wasn’t deathly embarrassing when explaining WHY you wanted to sit with them.

I’m just…bored, which would lead them to joke about my small, stupid, and uninteresting life. Maybe even lead Kid into bragging about how ‘important’ and ‘amazing’ he is compared to me.

Even thinking about that made your face sour. Rolling your eyes at nothing like you had just heard the worst joke imaginable.

I could…tell them that I have this strong gut feeling and it's dragging me towards them like a fish on a hook, which would lead to them being confused, taking it as flirting or calling me…ugh desperate.

That word crawled on your skin and sunk into your flesh. Like a tick taking root so one way or another you’d end up with Lyme disease or even worse, a bruised self-image.

You weren’t about to let that happen but this longing in your gut was almost incurable.

You even tried to calm down and look at your situation in a simpler light.

It’s just two men. Two pirates. You’ve dealt with pirates. You know how they work. You told yourself, hands feeling clammy as they gripped the edge of the bar. I already talked to one of them and it went…okay. Or maybe I’m just lying to myself and it went horribly.

You slouched in your chair and frowned. Nearly slamming your head down on the bar but you held back. Remembering you were indeed, still in public and if you wanted to wallow in your self-loathing you needed to go home for that.

I don’t need more people thinking I’m crazy.

You eventually stood up, walking to the point where you were just at the precipice of the doorway before panic struck you and you turned around just to walk straight out of the bar.

Red as a tomato and filled with shame you retreated into the night.

Did I even tell him my name?

You chewed your lips, the pleasant sounds of raindrops hitting the hood of your jacket and filling up your ears. It was a dark walk home. One that felt unmotivated to return home. You’d rather be out here, at night. The barren surroundings, whirring trees in the wind, and the rain pleasant yet cold. So you started meandering, walking as slow as you could despite the late hours.

Now and then the moon would peek through the clouds as if to say hello. A far-off lantern leaving a cool milky glow on your surroundings before being swallowed up by darkness once again.

Thank god my jacket is waterproof. You thought, watching the raindrops slip off the edge of your hood and in front of your face. It wasn’t a downpour just yet but it was not the best walking weather in most people's minds.

Yet even so you started making a detour.

What the fuck am I even doing?

At some point, while walking along the slightly muddy but managing trail to your home you made a hard 90-degree turn. Walking away from the direction of the little cabin your father had built when you were born, deep on the west side of the island.

It took about a half hour to walk through those woods to your house. Strong iron lanterns hung up on a few trees so you didn't get lost in the night. The animals are far too afraid to even step foot near your trail ever since your father claimed this portion of land.

So you were safe thankfully but what you weren’t safe from was yourself.

The trail you turned off onto led straight to the ocean. It was a bit muddier and more overgrown with thick roots and ferns but you have walked on this trial nearly half of your life. You knew it better than anyone because you were the one who made it.

Now and then you could hear the low rumble of lightning in the distance. Not too close but not entirely far off. The evergreens, birch and a few sparing oaks protecting you from the onslaught of the wind. As the wind cascaded through their branches it sounded like the raw howl of banshee. It creeped you out a bit but it was something you’ve heard before. This forest home even in the looming hours of the night.

Eventually, you breached the forest and reached the shoreline. The rain had died down a little, just a light pitter-patter against your jacket. The sand was wet but solid as you stepped down onto it. Your feet sunk in just a bit held against your weight regardless.

Looking out you noticed the ocean was in havoc. Waves nearly half your height would roll in and crash down like a bomb along the shore. The ocean tugged the water back in a greedy fashion as if it wanted to consume the land. Tall white-tipped waves stretching far out into the bay. The scent of salt, seaweed, and something oh-so comforting gliding in the space between you and the water.

Gosh if it's this bad here, I wonder what it’s like out on the open sea right now.

You looked down the shoreline, spotting the docks more towards the middle of the bay off to your left. There lay a few fishing ships, all bobbing up and down like pelicans in the water. But of course those weren’t the boats your eyes stayed glued to.

The contrast between those boats and the absolute behemoth that was the Kid Pirates ship was amazing. It was a good distance away, much bigger looking than it had originally been when you first spotted it. Squinting your eyes you could still make out a few shadows of people walking along its deck.

Your memory started floating into the forefront of your mind. Days on a deck like that. Nights spent harboring the seas as you tossed and turned in your bed. It felt like ages ago. That part of your life was now foreign to you the second the incident happened.

I wonder what he would’ve wanted for me.

Grief sunk deep into the root of your being. Covering the very base of who you are in a thick, oily, and dark substance. One that no matter how many times you tried to wash it off, it just wouldn’t go away.

“Goddamn it,” You muttered, trying to will yourself out of the feelings you held. You looked over at the sea once again, eyes trailing off towards your right. A long line of huge boulders stretched out into the waters. Built to elongate the bay and protect the land from bigger waves.

Without a thought, you walked towards it. The jetty calling your name as it has done a million times.

Climbing up onto the slick boulders you made sure to stay towards the shoreline side. The other side of the boulders, facing towards the open ocean, getting berated with large waves. You could barely hear yourself think with how loud it was. The light spritz of water landed on you periodically as you slowly and carefully traversed the boulders. Algae, kelp, starfish, and mussels littered around you. Wanting to trip you up whenever they could.

This is stupid, I can’t see shit. You thought, using your hands to steady yourself on any taller outcroppings of rock as your feet trembled underneath you. It wasn’t out of fear though, it was excitement. Excitement to do something dangerous. Excitement to try something so stupid.

Why am I like this? It’s cold and wet and I could fall into the ocean, get thrashed, and drown.

But you knew why you were like this. You knew exactly why and yet you still didn’t understand yourself. Feet moving without a thought. Your brain so focused on feeling something more than yourself that you don't care to stop.

At first, you didn’t even notice them. The pair of eyes watching you from a distance. Red-painted lips frowned in confusion as they eyed the familiar image of a girl seemingly trying to get herself killed.

In the cacophony of the waves and how they thrashed you heard another noise. A low deep whine of something in the distance. Your head perked up, blinking as if you had heard a ghost. As if the wind and waves were trying to talk to you. Thinking it was nothing you continued along until a second later you heard it again.

You looked out onto the sea towards your left, swallowing hard as you stared at the rocking waves just a few feet below you. You pressed your back up against a flat boulder at your side. Gripping onto it to keep your balance you finally glanced back at the shore.

What the-

An image of a man, a puffball-shaped man to be exact, standing at the edge of the shore right next to the jetty. You couldn’t make out his features but there was no denying who it was. His one intact arm waving and pointing toward something in your vicinity.

What the fuck?

The second you finished this thought something hit you.

Something dangerously cold and heavy enveloping you. Starting from the top of your head down to your toes. It burned your eyes as the cold sunk deep into your marrow.

Scraping your hands against the rock as you tried to stay upright, though the second it broke skin you were forced to let go. Your knees caving in under the insurmountable weight thrashed upon you.

One second you were standing and in the next you were getting sucked into the dark and desolate ocean below.

A/N: SHIT IS GETTING REAL YA’LL. BAD THINGS ARE HAPPENING. I wrote this with my eyes comically wide the whole time. Sorry to leave ya’ll on like a cliffhanger but it makes for good story telling so have fun suffering. Quirky reminder but Kid can’t swim. So like….yeah shes fucked. I mean she did it to herself but still. RIP Y/N 🙏 or a least RIP until the next chapter.

[veinsandknuckles]

Long hard road, pt 5

Vimes/f!Reader Slow burn AU where Vimes isn’t married. pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4 (explicit)

People threw around a lot of half assed comparisons between food and sex, some more accurate than others. But out of all the ways a woman could hunger, there was this to be said for food - if it wasn’t so bad it actually literally made you sick, even an indifferent meal could satisfy. Bad sex staved off nothing.

Thankfully, Patrick was actually serious about whatever work it was he was heading for (you’d tuned him out while he told you all about it) and so he actually got up, had breakfast and dragged his two less fortunate friends out onto the road with him at a reasonable hour. He’d done the best he could, and you were happy to see the back of him. 

Today was your day off and you wanted to get as far away from the inn as possible. After a wash and as much food as you could stomach, you wrapped up warm and snuck out the back door. 

And there, leaning against a wall, smoking one of his never-ending slim cigars, awake and alert completely outside of his usual hours, was Stone. When he caught sight of you, he didn’t look away. If anything it seemed as if he’d been waiting for you. 

Well, you had put on a show for him, hadn’t you? Whatever he was going to do or say about it, you supposed you’d practically asked for it. 

“Good morning,” you called as you walked up to him and hovered uncertainly at a respectable distance. The bastard actually looked like he was almost smiling.

“Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Well, you know. A few drinks and a lie-in...”

Stone nodded. “Going for another walk?”

“I was thinking about it.” How was he so calm? Gods, the man seemed completely unable to react to anything the way a normal person should. Or maybe he was really just that determined not to give you any kind of satisfaction. “...Do you want to come?”

“Hm.” He thought the offer through while he dropped his cigar and put it out with the toe of his boot. “As far as the outlook, maybe.”

Once again, you headed out side by side, and once again he seemed perfectly prepared to stay dumb the entire way. But when you made it well out of earshot of the outbuildings, he surprised you by speaking. 

“I think maybe I’ve let myself get a little too, er... familiar.”

You stared at him. He didn’t so much as glance back, but he seemed perfectly cool and collected. “This is your place of work. You’re stuck here, in a manner of speaking, and I’m stuck here too. For now, at least. And I know it’s as dull as watching paint dry - well. Most nights, anyway...”

You flushed, but you weren’t about to apologise or get any closer to that topic than he chose to go. 

Stone continued before the pause could get significant. “Of course, I don’t begrudge you for trying to pass the time, and there’s nothing wrong with banter, but, well... you’re probably better served getting your kicks from someone else.”

So. That was the only edge you’d managed to push him over. Your stomach felt hot and you felt yourself sweating, even in this sharp cold. 

You realised you were angry with him. If he had it in him to shut you down so directly, why the hell had he waited so long? Why had he let you think your words had any effect on him besides discomfort, if this was all it was leading to? Why couldn’t he have turned you down gently before you’d made a fool of yourself?

“Yes, I think I realised the same thing last night.” Not smooth, not subtle, but what did he expect?

“Right.”

You’d made it to the overlook by now and he paused and looked around, clear eyed, at everything around him except you. “Just wanted to make sure we understand each other.”

“There’s no need. I already told you I would quit if it made you uncomfortable. Now I know. Thank you.”

For whatever reason, those words made him grimace and he finally seemed a little less at ease. “...Comfortable don’t enter into it.”

Stone turned to you with a look of pained, embarrassed earnestness. “It’s just... I know you’re just looking for ways to kill some time, and I-“

“But I’m not. I really...”

“Just wait.” He cut you off in a tone so final you didn’t have the guts to press the issue. You realised it wouldn’t matter what you said or what you did - he would never believe you meant any of it. He wouldn’t let himself. “In a few days, or a few weeks, I’ll be out of your hair. And you’ll be better off for it. Until then, well... you’ve better ways to fill your time. Right?” 

There was nothing to say. And he pierced you with a look so firm, it felt impossible to contradict him. 

And it hurt. He really would leave soon and it’d be forever, and for however long he stayed he wasn’t even going to let you talk to him anymore. Let alone get close, let alone...

“Right,” you breathed. 

Stone nodded, looking as grim as you’d ever seen him. All you could hope for was that he was crushing something in himself, just as he was crushing something in you.

[purelyfiction]

Crossfire ---✈︎ 1

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x F!Reader | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Word Count: 7,205

Summary: When you hit a certain point in your career, you tend to crave a challenge. Well what if that challenge included near impossible feats, 12 of the best pilots in the Naval Airforce and the last person you wanted to ever see?

Content Warning: This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision.

Author Note: It’s hereeeeee - I have the entire story ready to roll and will be posting it in sections as to better navigate through. I’ve worked so incredibly hard on this so I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do! I would be remiss to not mention the countless beta reader’s who have helped me edit and prepare this story so a massive thank you goes out to them for all their help!!!

                                                      ✈︎  ✈︎  ✈︎

You knew that joining the Navy would be a gamble. The ratio of women to men in this field was beyond staggering, as you and your other female counterparts made up the meek 12% of all Naval pilots, so there were inevitable barriers to overcome. First were the misplaced doubts and beliefs that you wouldn’t be able to do the job. Next were the taunts, teases and unwelcome eyes. 

By the time you crept up to your 10th year of service, most of your coworkers knew better than to mess with you. You and your squadron had grown close in the last three years since being stationed in New Mexico, especially since it wasn’t that different from California, where you’d initially begun your training and subsequently attended Fighter Weapons School. You’d worked so hard to get where you were today and you loved what you did along with who you worked with. 

So maybe that’s why you were shocked to be sent back to California. You weren’t sure what the assignment was for, but the change of pace was more than welcome. With hesitancy, you’d agreed to leave, and your squad bid their rare ‘Moonshine’ goodbye, then you were on your way to return to Miramar. 

You remember the early days, back when you were just starting out. When men would prod and tease you about the stupidest things, where they would openly flirt with you, ask you out and consistently make you uncomfortable. ‘Sweetheart, do you even know the first thing about flying?’ Eventually, your mood towards them grew sour and you shot back at them. It’s because of this behavior; paired with your undeniable skill and strength in your field, that gave you the callsign you’d grown to love: “Moonshine.” It combined the strength and power you had, with a hint of sweetness and the clarity of wisdom. “Bitter at first but you’ll warm up to ’er.” It was the perfect name for you really. 

There is always a sense of pride in you when you get to tell new acquaintances how you got your call sign and that was no different when you ended up at TOPGUN. You came in with your head held high and were ready to prove yourself. When you got there, you found pretty fierce competition within your class; out of the twenty of you, there were two women. You and Natalie ‘Spinner’ Evans or, Spins, as you affectionately came to call her. The both of you grew close over the nine months you spent together in California while at TOPGUN, as you were not far from one another in the dorms and you spent nights painting each other’s toenails and watching old school movies on Netflix. She was one of the few people you still spoke to out of your graduating class. 

In the group of eighteen men you’d spent your class time with, there was one you absolutely couldn’t stand. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. That man had learned how to grind your gears within a week at Miramar. In every exercise the two of you were up against, you would be forced to wingman for one another and the other one would almost always abandon the other to get ahead in the instructor’s good graces. In the end, a few too many distractions (thanks to Rooster and his RIO) caused you to make some mistakes and some close calls near the hard deck, you lost points and ended up second overall in your class.

If he wasn’t giving you shit in the airfield he was giving you shit on base, in the recreation halls and at Hard Deck over billiards. Rooster would make a comment or two that would push you over the edge and you’d retreat before you did something that would get you kicked out of the program. 

You’d been upset when your time at TOPGUN was over, but you were more than happy to get away from the arrogant son of a bitch. You’d had your bags packed the night before graduation, and were gone as soon as they’d let you leave. You didn’t want to leave the beautiful city, the gorgeous beach side sunsets, the few friends you had made in between competition - Carlos and Eddie still reached out now and then. You had even been stationed with Xavier for a five month long assignment and learned that he’d gotten married and had a little girl at home. 

The memories of Fighter Weapons School were mainly fond, save for the unwelcome ones with Rooster in them, but you could deal with it to think on how far you’d come. You’d been invited back, for maybe a mission, maybe for an instructor position? You had no idea. Dropping your things in your assigned dorm, you made your way to the familiar bar from your early years. 

Hard Deck always seemed to have this lingering smell of tanning oil, jet fuel, stale beer and body odor to it. You know that Penny had tried everything to get it to go away but the smell is nostalgic to you as you enter the lively bar on a Friday night. You can see countless faces and you don’t recognize many of them. Most were new recruits, older instructors keeping to themselves. Navy men and women doing what they do best, commiserating. You’re about to grab a seat when you hear your call sign, “Moonshine! What the hell?”

Turning you’re met with Hasan, one of the tower controllers you’d met while on a tour in the Gulf of Mexico shortly after Fighter Weapons completed. Cheering as you turn to him, you give him a hug. “Oh my god! How are you? What’s it been like four years?” The two of you stand in astonishment with laughter. 

“Yeah, yeah I think so. I barely recognized you out of your flight gear.” He offers, making you look down at the more casual outfit, you’d changed the second you decided you were going off base. Too much khaki had a habit of wearing you down and right now, you were practically swimming in it; There were Naval officers, lieutenants, captains, blacktop attendants and air tower staff - the bar was packed with any and every position the Navy’s air force had. 

“You know how it is, any chance to stand out.” You tease with a laugh. Hasan begins a conversation - until you see familiar faces, most of whom you’d never met before, but knew their faces from awards, their names paired with them. “Fitch...Trace...Floyd...Seresin..” You look at Hasan with a bit of confusion. “They all were top of their class at TOPGUN. Which means...they’re here for the same reason I’m here.” You look at the dark haired man next to you as he sips his drink. 

“Don’t jump to conclusions..” You stand up, glancing around and starting towards the group, hearing your friend distantly as you walk toward the group. “And she’s jumped.”

You approach Phoenix and grin as she’s reciting your rank and full name. “Lieutenant.” You grin as she comes to the same conclusion you have, “We were just mentioning how strange it is that we’ve all ended back up at the same place.”

“Great minds think alike. I have no idea what this is about, but I’m curious to find out.” As you’re talking, Seresin approaches, sitting on the edge of the pool table to come to eye level with you. 

“I don’t think we’ve met. Lt. Jake Seresin. Callsign Hangman, top of my class, first choice of mission once I was out.” He tilts his head to grin at you with impeccably white teeth. You don’t need to know him to know that he was the epitome of the standard know it all Naval pilot.  

“Something tells me you won’t be letting me forget that one anytime soon.” You mutter under your breath as you take a sip from your glass, watching as he gets up in the direction of the jukebox.

“You’d be right. Care to dance?” He’s looking over his shoulder, aviators sat on his nose in the middle of a bar, finger pressing the track he’s selected. There is a dull attempt at a dance as he begins to approach you again, smirk plastered on his way too tanned face.

“Not particularly, Hangman.” You cross your arms over your chest as he moves about the table, taking a cue from one of the other players to take his turn. The group has gone back on to guessing what could have possibly brought you all to the same bar but moments before you can engage in the conversation, the jukebox dies out, making everyone in the bar look in its direction. 

In front of the vintage piece, with another pair of aviators, Hawaiian shirt overtop a white ribbed vest and a mustache to boot - stood the very last person you ever wanted to see. You’re careful to duck out of his sights, watching as he settles into the spot at the old piano, jumping right into the chord progression of his go-to title only to gather  an audience as he does so. 

As people begin to surround him, you’re quick to make your escape. Though, when you do, you find someone hanging out just off the deck of the building, looking through the window. “He’s not that talented you know.” You comment, half-mindedly, watching as the older man looks back at you. “Who?” Your statement had come rather unprompted, so you’re quick to pull together an answer.

“The pilot at the piano. He intentionally pulled a fast one on me so he could make first in class during my time in Fighter Weapons. Not only that, but he blew so much smoke up their asses to catch up to the rest of us, he wasn’t even a Lieutenant until about two years ago. Somehow he managed to embarrass the shit out of me.” You sigh, seeing that the man outside is looking back through the glass again. 

“Oh. He just... reminds me of someone, is all.” When he turns back again, you finally get a glimpse of his jacket and the name patch there. A laugh leaves you. 

“Maverick. Of course. Well, I’ll be damned. The man, the myth and the legend.” You smile as he comes to stand in front of you. He extends a hand, which you take as you introduce yourself.

“It’s a pleasure, Lieutenant. I guess I’m still making impressions?” 

“Who said they were good impressions?” You ask, seeing his face fill with laughter. 

“Okay, okay, I get it, I get it.” Nodding, he pockets his hands. “At least you’ve got great examples of what not to do.” He snickers and you agree. 

“I thought you were out doing every menial assignment they could give you, Captain.” You’d heard stories, knew they’d been trying to get Maverick out for years. He taught briefly at Fighter Weapons before getting into trouble elsewhere and every time he broke a rule, the Navy would look to get rid of him. Someone would end up vouching for him, usually Admiral Kazansky, which meant he’d stick around for just a little longer.

“I’ve been reassigned. Something to do with my ‘less than ideal’ piloting skills.” He hums, starting to walk with you down the beachside path. “And who am I to say no to orders?” The captain smirks as you two continue back around to the parking lot.

———————————————— ✈︎

The following morning, you were up way earlier than you initially anticipated being awake at, mainly because you’d not slept well. So you’d taken your time putting your hair into regulation, getting showered and dressed. You’d then decided to take a quick walk around the base as the sun rose.

As you were wrapping up your walk you see that you’re about 15 minutes from debrief, so you head to the hangar. You can feel the nerves in your stomach that had kept you up the whole night. You’d been here before, but it’s nearly twice as intimidating the second time around.

When you arrive, you find that there’s a lectern, an old school projector screen and twelve desks. It looked like a carbon-copy of one of your high school classrooms, with most of the desks being full, except one. It was in the front row, next to the blonde you’d had a ‘pleasure’ of meeting with the previous day. “Morning Moonshine. Oh that’s got such a ring to it, don’t it?” Hangman grins at you and you can’t stop the somersault that your eyes do. Sitting down, you’re looking behind you to see who’d ended up there. Phoenix was here, Fanboy and Payback, Bob - and of course:

“Rooster.” You nearly spit the call sign out. He isn’t initially looking at you, and once his head is raised, you can see the way his shoulders shift.

“Moonshine.” A snicker runs through him. “I thought it was the best of TOPGUN, not the runner-ups.”

“You should consider yourself to be so lucky to be included then.” Quickly, the retort leaves you as Phoenix kicks your boot, seeing two admirals entering the hangar. The twelve of you face rapidly forward and give them your attention as they begin.

They’ve been speaking for almost ten minutes before you hear footsteps echo in the hangar as they start the instructor’s introduction. Hangman daringly interrupts Admiral Bates’ lecture, cutting him off when he sees who had come into the room. “You’re joking. Man, you are hilarious.” Laughing as his hand comes to his chin, the older man reaches the lectern. Tugging off his aviators, a beaming smile, Maverick looks over you all.

“Good morning aviators, this is your captain speaking.” He’s looking over the group in front of him with a coy smirk before he’s jumping into explaining the timeline. A month. You had a month to train to do the impossible. Nervously, you’re looking around, seeing hesitancy in each other's faces as Maverick describes the parameters. Looking back to the front, you watch the screen move to the Fighters Weapons logo.

“Let’s fly.”

It would take some getting used to flying with a new RIO, but you would manage. Luckily for you, getting up in the air was familiar and second nature for you. Each time you came to a level cruising altitude, you had a moment, a reminder of how important your job was. How few individuals got to do this, and you got to do it every single day.

In the first exercise of the entire training period, you’d been put up against Phoenix and Bob. While on the tarmac, you’d heard Hangman’s daring bet, and knew you were all in for it. You were flying with Maverick as the bandit, which meant that this wasn’t going to be an easy day.

In less than ten minutes you were dead and grounded. Hangman went back up, leaving you with Rooster on the airfield as you did push-ups with Hondo over your shoulders. “Hangman really can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?”

“Apparently, neither can you.” Rooster huffs and you scoff.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I the one who challenged a TOPGUN instructor with a wild streak to such a challenge? I don’t think so.” Before Rooster could get in another word, Hondo is instructing you two to focus and keep going.

Back up in the air. Dead. Back to the tarmac for push-ups. Back in the air. Dead. Again. By the time you’re done with your last set of push-ups, you’re standing with exhaustion. Payback is slapping your shoulder with a bit of pride, “Can’t say it’s been a boring day.” He snickers.

Carrying your helmet in your hand, you’re walking with him with amusement as you enter the base operations building. You enter an instruction hall where the other pilots are sat in little rows intently listening to the radio tower and all the radio comms of pilots currently dispatched. The room feels tense as you enter. “What’s going on?” You question softly, not wanting to break the tension. Quickly, you sit down as you’re pushing your helmet under your chair while Bob looks back at you with a whisper.

“Rooster and Maverick are in a downward corkscrew toward the hard deck.” He explains and your eyebrows furrow, looking up to the screen. He’s right. The two identified planes are currently spinning at high speed toward the ground, circling around themselves with no real sign of stopping. What the hell were they doing?

It’s a high stake game they’re playing. At the speed they’re going, they could not only run to ground, but they could end up disorienting and crashing into one another when they did get out of their positions but soon, Rooster breaks and pulls up. The tower grounds them both leaving the remaining crew to look at one another in sheer shock.

———————————————— ✈︎

With the sun setting, and the crew dispersed for the day, it leaves you to change and head to the gym. You were certain after a long day of push-ups, there couldn’t possibly be anyone to bother you there so you’re alone with your headphones clutching to your head as you’re pulling the barbell from its spot on the floor. You’re watching your form in the mirror, carefully calculating your breaths. Your music is so loud you think there’s someone speaking somewhere in the room. When you drop the weights, you’re looking back up in the mirror, realizing - someone had been speaking to you, but it’s not someone you’re willing to talk to. You turn to the male with displeasure written on your face. “I’m surprised they didn’t kick you off base.” You retort, pulling the headphones from your head as Rooster drops his workout bag on a nearby bench.

“I’m lucky they didn’t.” He plops himself on the bench, pulling his gym shoes from his bag. This is the first time you’re seeing him outside of his usual floral getup or his flight suit. A faded and relaxed black colored fabric sits on his shoulders, a darker silkier fabric on his hips. His shirt looks like he cut the sleeves off a while ago, the openings having been cut deep for ventilation. It showcases his tanned biceps and suddenly you’re physically shaking your head: they didn’t need to be ‘that’ deep, he was such a show off, ‘Peacock’ would’ve been a better fit for a callsign. Yet as you continue to judge the scene in front of you, you find that you’re unable to pull yourself away. Finally, you break away from the gaze, a shiver of disgust running through you. “Thought I was gonna be the only one here after what Hangman pulled earlier.” The reference of push-ups makes you snicker.

“I thought the same thing. Guess not.” With your water in your hand you tilt your head. “What happened up there?” You take a sip as Rooster stands fully upright. You forgot how tall this shit was. He’s moving from the bench area to the free weights, probably looking to warm up, as if the hundreds of push-ups you’d both just done weren’t enough.

“I’d rather not go into it.” He mutters, going over his options from the rack, leaving you to tilt your head.

“Sorry, what was that again?” You ask with a bit of contention towards him. “You pull a stunt mid-air and won’t bother to tell me why?” Your water bottle ends up on the bench as you come closer to him again. He groans and looks back at you.

“Frankly, it’s none of your damn business.” You huff and take a step forward.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Rooster, but a team’s being made here. One way or another you’re gonna have to talk.” He drops the weights in his hands, turning to you - towering near you, intimidating and broad. There’s still sweat lingering from being outside all day - both of you are covered in it. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Moon, but I seriously doubt there’s going to be room for you on that team. At least not any team I’m on.” He nearly growls at you and all you can do is turn to grab your stuff.

“You wanted the work out room for yourself? You’ve got it.” You’re almost out the door when you hear him.

“That’s it? You’re just gonna run away again? Is that your solution to everything? ‘Rooster’s in the way, so I can’t possibly be here.’ You said it yourself. Team’s being built. You’re gonna have to deal with me at some point.” Standing still in the doorway, one hand on the door handle you look back at him, seeing a coy smirk on his features. It would be so easy to just go back to your dorm, run a bath and forget this entire interaction ever happened but part of you knows you’d be a hypocrite if you did so. After all, you’d been the one so adamant about team building. “You know I’m right.” He chimes in with another reminder. Finally, with a groan you come back to the floor, dropping your things again, but this time keeping your distance.

“For the sake of team building.”

You’ve given him the free weight floor, keeping to the treadmills and other machines. Avoiding his eyes, you’re climbing onto the machine, hearing the other again. “Running? I thought you swore off running after that challenge to run the ops building?” It was true. You’d had a bet with Rooster back in your class days, that the one with the least amount of targeted kills in a day had to run around the ops building, about two miles, twice. You’d lost that bet four times in a week. Your knee had been so bad because of it that when you went to the infirmary they gave you a pass for two weeks for no impact on your knee. It was still messed up even today, but it was better than that week. 

“Someone’s never heard of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” You throw back, starting the pace slow, your eyes locating him as he looks at you through the mirror. “Are you going to work out or are you just gonna stand there?” Rooster watches you with a slight smirk on his features, putting his headphones on and getting started. 

You’re heading into a jog when you realize - you don’t have your headphones. Glancing behind you, you see them on the bench, next to Rooster’s stuff. The last thing you want to do is to break your pace, just for the sake of music, so you choose to go without this exercise. You’re only doing a mile and a half, so it should go by pretty fast. You stay focused on the window ahead of you all while you’re making a metaphorical laundry list of things you need to do when you get back to your room. 

Steam flight suit

Finish unpacking

Organize drawers

Find my-

Your thoughts are interrupted by a very prominent sound. Looking from its direction, you see Rooster, suspended in the air on the power rack, lifting his legs up to form an ‘L’ shape with his body. When he pulls them up again, another grunt comes from him. There’s the rational part of you that says ‘stop staring’ but you can’t. Mainly because he’s taken his shirt off causing him to glisten in the fluorescent lights above you. Fully unaware of your gaze, he’s still moving, grunts and groans coming from him as he moves. You nearly trip on the tread you’re running on, catching yourself, yet still not turning away. Eventually, brown eyes shift towards you and you rapidly turn your head away from him. You increase your speed, giving yourself that to focus on instead of the sound coming from your coworker. He keeps going, and with each sound you can feel your face flush. Eventually though, you hear a thud. Glancing back, you see Rooster collapsed on the floor causing you to slightly panic. You’re quickly moving to shut off your treadmill, jumping to the padded floor and over to him.

“Rooster, hey, are you alright? Can you hear me?” A hand goes to his back, moving to push him upright. When he does sit up, he is laughing, hard. You’re quick to shove him, making him move to his other side, still laughing as you grab your things. 

“Oh come on! It was a joke.” He laughs and you glare at him. 

“That shit’s not funny.” You’re quickly tossing your things into your bag, sitting down and pulling off your gym shoes and then changing into a more casual pair. You avoid his gaze the entire time, but can hear him as he stands up. 

“Lighten up, I’m fine. It was just a joke.” Once you’re on your feet, you pull your bag over your shoulders. When you finally turn to face him, you’re greeted with his chest mere centimeters from yours. He’s looking directly at you, giving you a gateway to look deeply into his eyes. There’s a brief glint to them, thanks to the low intensity of the lights in the gym, but they have flecks of a golden brown that make them so warm and inviting. Yet there’s specks of green that cool them ever so slightly, warning you. Telling you to keep your distance. Neither of you say a word. 

You can still feel the anger flooding through you, but you can feel your stomach turn on a dime. You’d never thought he was intimidating, so what changed? 

Shifting your gaze, your eyes instinctually move to look around his face. Somehow despite the work he’s put in for the day, his hair doesn’t seem to stray out of place, the rest of him well groomed to match. You can see the beads of sweat that catch in the light, the overpowering smell of Old Spice hitting your nose as it worked overtime to keep his body odor at bay. It’s a surprisingly welcome scent. That paired with the all too perfect swoosh to his hair, he looked like he belonged on the cover of Men’s Wellness. How perfect. You could picture the issue now, ‘the charming faces of our US Navy’. All oiled up on the Commander’s beach. 

Had it been any other person, the idea of such a photoshoot would have put your stomach in knots. Since it wasn’t? It leaves you physically shuddering at the mental image.

It then puts you back into the gym, reminding you how pissed you were at this stupidly and conventionally attractive man. Feet nearly fly off your body as you leave the gym, snapping yourself out of whatever stupid trance he’d put you into. 

You absolutely despised this man. Furthermore, you hated that he seemingly couldn’t do any wrong, to absolutely anyone else. Between the begrudging truth that he was rather photogenic and was ever the lady’s man; he was the Navy’s shining star. TOPGUN’s prodigal son. But you saw what everyone else seemed to ignore or were simply blind to. He had a god complex and never failed to make you feel inferior, uncomfortable or a burning rage when he pushed your buttons and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of distracting you again. Not this time. He hated your guts and you hated his. End of the story.

You’d thought about the entire interaction in a loop while you’d showered. How close he’d been to you and how you felt some of your composure crack when you’d admitted that he’d actually looked pretty decent given the day you’d had.

Yet it angered you. You wanted the entire thing to disappear from your mind. From the  curve of his biceps to the scent of his deodorant. None of it belonged on your mind. It took you a little while to push that moment away. You’d tried to write it down and burn the paper, flush the idea literally down the toilet (clogging it in the process. Day three back at Miramar and you’re already putting in help tickets) do anything you could to forget it. 

But the memory flooded back when you saw him again for class days later. Typically you two kept to yourselves, out of ease of getting through the work day, but your eyes meet briefly as you spot him in the lecture hall. You told yourself you weren’t going to let it bother you, and you needed to remind yourself of that. And you do, seeing the details of the mission that were being laid out for you. Instead of the intensity you’d felt in your stomach at the gym, worry and anxiety sit. 

The exercise that day was to practice the turn route. You knew this was going to be difficult, but getting up in the air was more nerve-wracking than you remembered. It used to be so instinctual but now you have to recite the manual in your mind. You hadn’t been nervous to fly in years, but the pairing of the speed and the terrain of this mission could be deadly, and that’s what made your stomach drop. 

With the timer going, you’re starting the path, watching the simulation on the screen to help calculate your moves. As you focus on the task, you hear a set of system alarms go off. Part of you thinks it’s someone else’s system, until you see the flashing on your control panel. One of your engines is failing. Naturally, you level out the plane, as you begin flipping switches on the control board. You’re quickly notifying the tower, as well as Maverick, of your every move, keeping them updated as you try to get it going again, staying as calm as you can. A deep breath as your RIO reads off the status over the radio. You’re tuning everyone else that’s attempting to help you through the radio. Instead you’re zeroed in on restarting the engine before the one that was keeping you in the air gave out. 

No sooner than it began, the siren tones stopped, the engine kicked back on, which sent you lurching forward against the brace of the seatbelt and on your way back to a solid path. With a breath of relief, you lean back in your seat, hearing them clear the warning from ground control. You’ve been commanded to land so the maintenance team can take a look at the plane, to ensure it wouldn’t have a repeat event for the next flight. When you’re back on the tarmac, you’re still stuck thousands of feet in the air, even though your feet are on the ground. Maybe it’s because your brain was still computing the event, putting all the pieces together when they had been so scrambled when they were introduced. There had been countless words said over the comm line, but you’d only paid attention to your captain’s and air control’s. 

As you analyze the new information, you realize: Rooster had been speaking to you. Something along the lines of staying calm? The more you think about it, you’re not sure he ever said your name, or that it was even directed toward you. Had he been talking to himself? Breathe. It’s fine. They’ll be fine, they’ll be fine. She’s got this. 

When you enter the operations building, you’re passing a room as you start towards the locker room. You were going to change and go home, try to take a shower and get some food in you. Your head was still reeling from the event after all but you stop when you see the flash of flight suit green out of the corner of your eye. Backing up, you find Rooster sitting in an empty room, walls filled with awards and photographs. Very carefully, you enter with heavily calculated steps. You keep your hands behind your back, looking at the photos until he’s ready to address you. 

Rooster’s still zoned out when you finally look at him, slowly approaching. “Rooster? You good?” Still no reaction. Dazed and staring ahead. “Bradshaw.” A little firmer this time, which finally breaks him out of it. He looks at you, this time hazel eyes are highlighted by the sun peeking into the room from the window on the far wall. When you break his stare you look at the photo he’s fixated on as you speak again. “Everything okay?”

“‘M fine. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” He answers, leaving you to examine the plaque tacked to the wall. 

You’re glancing back at him while facing the wall. “I don’t know about that. The whole, ‘team’ thing, remember?” It doesn’t take long for him to stand up again. He comes to your side, looking toward the plaque in front of the two of you now. 

“Yeah. Team.” His head drops, a sigh leaving him. You’re turning so your body is completely facing him. 

“If the whole engine thing freaked you out-“

“It’s not that.” He looks at you deliberately. “I just.. I lost my dad in a training exercise accident. I guess the panic just kind of kicked in when your engine shat the bed.” He’s fidgeting with a flap on his suit, the metal clasp on it making a ringing noise with each time the fabric returns to its intended position. There’s deep somberness in the air from his confession. It takes a few seconds to realize his eyes are trained back to the photo from earlier, where you finally take in the details. Fighter Weapons Class of ‘86. There’s names listed, and beside one another sits Mitchell and Bradshaw. 

“Maverick was your dad’s pilot?” You ask it so softly, you’re nearly scared to even ask.

“Yeah. It wasn’t his fault, the whole thing was an accident, like I said.” Rooster’s turned away from both you and the wall now. He’s sinking into his chair again, letting you follow slowly. You sit down next to him, looking out the window. 

“Is that why you and Mav don’t get along?” Rooster sits up, crossing his arms. 

“No, that’s not it. It’s just a reminder… no matter how great a pilot.. accidents happen.” He shrugs, as though there’s nothing else lingering. 

“You two went spiraling towards the hard deck within hours of being around each other. I think that something has to cause that kind of animosity?” You suggest, which finally snaps the band that’s holding him together. 

“Maverick pulled my papers. Happy?” You frown as he scoffs. “God, I don’t even know why you even -“ you cut him off before he can launch into a new argument. 

“I care because it affects me too. Both of you being on edge puts me- and the whole team on edge. It makes our environment more hostile, makes everyone uneasy, which honestly, is the last thing we all need.” 

Rooster lets out a sigh as he’s running a hand through his hair. Finally, he pushes his weight off of his knees, helping him stand, his wrist rolling over to look at the watch that sits there. 

“I need a drink.” He says it so swiftly, as he moves to the door. He pauses at the doorway, looking back at you. “Are you coming?” Pointing a finger at yourself, you begin mockingly looking around the room, a scoff moving from his chest. “C’mon, Moonshine. In the spirit of team building?” It’s almost mockingly spoken, causing you to roll your eyes. You spot the smirk on his lips as you stand. 

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot at Hard Deck.” You snicker, quickly leaving the room and making your way back to your dorm. 

———————————————— ✈︎

Your room is a mess. Not that you particularly care, but seeing that you hadn’t finished unpacking, you couldn’t find anything decent to wear. At least that’s what you told yourself as you put on the tenth outfit you decide against. It’s not as if it mattered what you were wearing. You’re not dressing up for anyone. With this reminder, you decide on an old tee and some shorts. Maybe you’d end up on the beach after drinks, as a walk in the sand sounded nice, it would give you some stress relief. Some respite to the adrenaline you keep pent up after each exercise at work. 

You’re headed out the door when you spot Phoenix, also headed to the parking lot. She gives you a smile. “Hey stranger. You disappeared after that engine scare, everything okay?” Reassuringly, you give a nod. 

“Oh yeah, I kind of went walking to clear my mind, you know?” She smiles.

“I’m glad to hear it. I’m meeting Bob and Payback at Hard Deck, you coming?”

“Yeah! I was actually meeting Rooster there.” A shrug, until you see Phoenix's response to your words. Her eyebrows have risen in surprise, something of a smirk and a smile.

“Wait, he actually agreed to having a drink with you?” The two of you start to the parking lot after you’ve locked your door.

“Actually, he invited me, believe it or not.” You speak with a hint of laughter as Phoenix unlocks her car. She nods to the door on the other side, indicating she’s giving you a ride. Climbing into the Jeep, you continue. “He was kind of somber after our exercise today. I was headed out and he was kind of distant in the trophy room.” A shrug before you watch the gates open to let you out as you start the short drive to Penny’s workplace.

“Well, I mean when something like that happens, it’s easy to get lost in the reminder of how dangerous our job actually is. Especially when you consider what the end goal of all this training is meant to be.” It’s her turn for a solemn sigh. Both of you grow quiet. 

It’s not until you pull into the parking lot that the chatter begins again. You’re easily and quickly spotting the male, leaning up against his truck, staring at something on his phone. Phoenix slams her car door shut, which catches his attention. “I heard we were drinking?” She suggests with a grin, Rooster matching hers as he tucks his phone away. You’ve climbed out of the car, catching his wave of his hand as Phoenix makes her way into the bar. The light brown haired male waits for you to meet him by his car before walking with you. 

“Didn’t feel like driving?” He questions, making you shake your head as he opens the door. 

“Nah, I just happened to run into her on the way out. Ended up riding together.” As you enter the bar, the familiar smell cascades over the two of you and you’re scanning the crowd to see where the others disappeared to. You spot them at the far side of the bar, and are quick to lead the way. Rooster falls closely behind you. He meets up with Fitch at the bartop, glancing towards you. 

“Beer?” He’s holding up two fingers, implying he’s grabbing one for himself as well, only for you to correct him.

“Ugh, actually, coconut rum, mint and soda, if you will?” He gives you a curious eyebrow raise, but turns to Penny with your order. Soon you’re roped into a game of billiards, moving to team with Bob and Phoenix. 

When it’s your turn, you’re taking the cue, ready and aiming at an orange striped ball, seeing Payback and Hangman sipping and watching. You’re about to take your shot when Hangman stops you. “Hold on, sweetheart, let me help.” He’s quick to take the stick out of your hand - and then takes your shot. He’s returning the stick to you, with a wink and a cigar between his teeth, leaving you with your jaw slacked. You’re about to say something when you hear a bell ringing. Turning around you see Rooster rattling the bell and Penny with a wide grin on her face. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! Lt. Seisen has just bought everyone a round!” Rooster’s voice booms over the crowd, followed by a subsequent cheer. Your astonished slack jaw shifts to one of amusement and glee. Hangman looks at the two conspirators by the bar as Rooster approaches with your drinks. 

“What?? For why??” He cries out as you take your drink from Bradshaw. The mustached man points to the sign above the bar. 

“Disrespect a lady, the Navy or put a phone on the bar. You sir, broke 2 outta three of those rules. A lady in the Navy.” He points out before taking a sip of his drink, your custom order. He then looks at you with a grin. “Damn, Moon knows her way around a drink!” The rest of the group are chuckling along with him and you shrug. 

“It’s a Cojito, I learned about it when I was in New Mexico. It’s damn refreshing, I’ll tell you that much.” Soon enough, you’re returning to your previously interrupted game of pool with free drinks in hand. 

Thanks to some alcohol and well timed jokes, the entire crew were in good spirits. Playing games and singing songs without a care in the world. You’re wrapping up a game of darts with Bob when you spot Rooster heading out to the back porch. Following him, you’re quick to reach his side, watching the waves roll in along the almost completely set sun. “Hey.” You speak with intention, grabbing his focus. When he’s looking at you, you spot something on his face you’d not noticed before. Reaching up you’re about to touch the spot on his chin - but stop yourself, letting your hand fall. “What did you do here?” You question, looking at the three hashed scars on his skin. A smile breaks out on his features at the question, a hand running over the spot. 

“Oh that’s,” he laughs as his hand drops, “that’s an accident from when I was a kid. Biking on our driveway - all rocks - the tire popped below me and I went straight over the handlebars.” His hand moves to describe the actions as he says them. Your own hand has moved up again, glazing at his eyes to sense any uneasiness. When you don’t see any, you gently run your finger over the raised skin. 

“And this one on your jaw?” You ask with a laugh, hand moving up to trace the one just below his cheek. 

“You know… I actually don’t remember that one.” Smiling, you pull your hand away, looking at him. Both of you sit with alcohol warming your stomachs, and your smiles before you speak up again. 

“I wanted to say thanks - for earlier. With the ball and Jake thing.” You finally get back to the entire reason why you’d pulled yourself away from the group. 

“Don’t mention it. Got to keep each other in check, right?” He shrugs, before you hear his callsign from the bar. 

“You’re being paged.” You hum, leaving him to nod, raising his - empty - glass at you as he heads back in. You’re following him shortly after

———————————————— ✈︎

Did you enjoy this? Consider buying me a coffee!

[meltwonu]

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 |     [CHAPTER 4]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, fingering, littlest bit of dirty talk, praise!kink, soft soft soft FLUFF hours, a bit of a filler chapter before the last chapter!! 😭 I can’t believe it’s almost ‘over’... This chapter has the least amount of smut yall will ever see with fratboy!wonwoo so don’t get used to it ☠️ LMAO 🤣🤣 also... it’s been a garbage week(boring work drama) for me so I’ll answer inbox msgs and stuff on sunday, I need to get away from the internet(and people) for a day dkfjhskh 😭💕 Ya’ll thank you for so much love and support with Caffeine and Until I Met You! It means so much to me and I appreciate every like, reblog and comment I get on it 🥺💕 No I will never be ending my fratboy!wonwoo au so don’t worry about that hehe 💕 For now, enjoy this soft ch 4 and I will see yall on Sunday! I love you, have a great weekend! 💕

[mood for this chapter: more than enough - alina baraz]

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - x

“So…”

Wonwoo sighs - re-shelving another Edgar Allen Poe book. “So, what?”

Mingyu tilts his sunglasses down, eyebrows raised at the older male that continues to do his job instead of give him the time of day. “What’s going on with you, hyung? You’ve been… weird.”

“Okay, define weird.”

The younger male pouts as he takes his sunglasses off, pocketing them as he leans up against the bookshelf that Wonwoo is currently still shelving.

It only takes one utterance of your name for Wonwoo to stop in his tracks - fingertips on the spine of another book as he turns to Mingyu. “What about her? Did she say something to you?”

“No, but do you like her? I mean, ‘like’ like her.”

“Is it not… obvious? That I do? Did we not all collectively have that conversation about me giving her a set of keys to our house?”

Mingyu grimaces slightly as he mentally goes through all the times he’d even seen the two of you together and he’s only able to conjure up a few select memories - none of which were anything necessarily romantic. “Well… I wouldn’t say ‘obvious’, I guess. The two of you aren’t exactly the ‘kiss and hold hands in public’ kind of... people. More like the, ‘sneak off to fuck in a public restroom’ kind... Which, uh, isn’t really... romantic.”

This time, Wonwoo crosses his arms and leans up against the opposite bookshelf as he sighs.

It’d been a few days since he’d seen you and you’d been swamped in so much class work that you didn’t even have the time to come by the library or the frat house. And even while Wonwoo stood in between the bookshelves having a conversation with Mingyu, you were finishing an art project with Minghao that was due by the end of the day.

“I know. I told her it’d be kind of a slow crawl for me.” He plucks another book from the cart, staring at the glossy text as he simmers in his thoughts. “Mingyu, am I awkward?”

“Erm, well, I wouldn’t say that necessarily.”

Mingyu steps forward, patting Wonwoo on the shoulder as he smiles.

“You like her and you’re trying even if you’re not used to it. You gotta start somewhere, hyung. Even if you’re a fish out of water. But that’s okay, you can ask me for help if you want!”

“When are you gonna put a ring on Wonwoo-hyung?”

You snort at Minghao’s question - reaching for a clean paintbrush as he stands across from you in the large, empty studio. “First of all, can you not say it like that? I’m not gonna marry him, okay.”

The male rolls his eyes as he steps closer to you; his own hands and clothes covered in a colorful array of paints. “So you’re saying you never imagined hyung in a suit, hair slicked back and his buff arms carrying you off into your honeymoon?”

“W--wh--n--no! No, I haven’t!” You avoid his piercing stare as you focus on your end of the large canvas instead.

No, but I dreamt about it once.

“‘Hao, would you hurry! We’re supposed to be collaborating on this and it looks… like it’s 5 different art styles.”

“Don’t change the subject on me. And anyway, I like what you’re doing to hyung. Breaking him out of his shell, y’know? He’s just shy, that’s all. Needs a little work in the bold department.”

You bite down the urge to laugh because to you, Wonwoo was everything but shy when it came to the bedroom. Although, Minghao was right with everything else. “Yeah, I know. We went for breakfast together after I, um, stayed over a few nights ago and he kinda just sat there zoned out, picking at his waffles. He’s really cute when he wakes up in the morning though. Pouty and whiny.”

Grinning at Minghao, he pretends to gag in response before taking a seat next to you.

“Disgusting. Tell me more.”

Wonwoo makes an effort to check in with you throughout the day before he heads back to his room - asking you if you’d had your meals and if you’d finished your project on time.

You’d answered sporadically as you and Minghao raced to finish.

‘I’ll eat late probably… rly gotta finish or else my ass is failing lol’

‘Just don’t forget, okay? It’s not good for you to skip.’

Wonwoo lays down in his bed; yawning as he sets his phone onto the nightstand next to himself.

His eyelids feel heavy and he’s quick to give in to the tiredness that takes over him once he gets comfortable.

When Wonwoo finally decides to shift during his nap, he finds it difficult and extra warm.

“Mmh…”

His bleary eyes adjust to the, now,  slightly darkened room as he makes out your figure tucked underneath his arm. He calls your name softly - waking you up from the nap that you’d apparently joined him in.

“Mmh… Wonwoo…” You snuggle in deeper, voice still laced with sleep. “You didn’t even budge when I came in…”

He chuckles softly as he readjusts to spoon you from behind instead; his strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep your body flush against his own.

“I’m surprised you came by, sweetheart. I would’ve just stayed awake had I known you were coming over.” His voice is groggy and laced with sleep as you sigh softly in return as you blink away the sleepiness.

“How was your day at the library? Miss me yet?” Wonwoo smiles into your shoulder before he tilts his head up to kiss the shell of your ear.

“Always, sweetheart. Although, Mingyu decided to keep me busy today.”

“Oh? Anything fun?”

He plays with the hem of your shirt, “Well… Fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe what that was. Nosy was more like it.”

This time you can’t help but snort in response. “You too? I think some people were being ‘lil moles today.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. Did you end up just coming back here with Minghao from the studio?”

“Wasn’t planning on it, to be honest but… S’been a rough day.” Placing your hand over his arm, you squeeze slightly as you pull his arm around you tighter. “Our professor came by while we were working in the studio and said our project wasn’t up to par with what Minghao and I usually submit for projects. She didn’t fail us on the spot but she said we need to redo it for less credit or take the failing grade.”

Wonwoo nuzzles your neck; peppering small kisses on your clothed shoulder. “I take it the two of you are going to redo it?”

“Mm… We spent so long coming up with a concept and now we’re both stressed about coming up with something new. I walked over here with ‘Hao and he locked himself up in his room as soon as we got here. Figured I’d come hang out with you and found you napping… With your glasses on, no less.”

The two of you share a laugh; Wonwoo’s embrace making you feel more at ease.

“Can I help you de-stress a little, sweetheart?”

You stare at the opposite wall, nodding gently as Wonwoo’s hand leaves the hem of your shirt in favour of the waistband of your shorts.

“Just want you to feel good,” he whispers. “You deserve it. You’ve been working so hard, baby.”

He teases you softly; fingertips ghosting across your skin as you shiver. “Ah, Wonwoo…”

“You worked extra hard today too, didn’t you? I’m so proud of you for what you accomplished today.”

Your body heats up at his praise and you can’t deny that his deep, soft voice sends thrums of arousal pouring over your body just as he dips his hand into your lounge shorts. He touches you over your panties - fingertips ghosting against your mound as you moan his name shakily in return.

“I know your new idea is going to be great, baby. I believe in you.”

Soft whines threaten to spill as Wonwoo strokes you over your panties - slowly working you up as you find yourself trying to grind against his hand. “Y-yeah… ‘m p-pretty sure ‘Hao’s already working on it…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as Wonwoo continues to stroke you gently; making no efforts to rush or add pressure to his feather-light touches.

A disappointed noise falls from your lips when he starts to pull his hand out of your shorts but it quickly turns into a content sigh when he starts teasing your chest instead.

“Mm, so soft…” Muttering against your shoulder, his eyes stare off into the dark room as he massages your body. “And all mine~”

You hum in response, “We should go on a date sometime…”

“You want to? We can go this weekend. After you’ve redone some of your project. I’ll take you somewhere nice for a job well done.”

You giggle softly; images of a wedding day’s Wonwoo dancing in your mind after the conversation you’d had with Minghao earlier. “I’d like that. We should do something for the whole day.”

“Whatever you’d like, baby.”

Wonwoo’s hand flits down your body again - snaking into your shorts and, this time, into your panties as you whine. “Do you wanna cum or go back to sleep, hmm?” 

You ponder it for a second as the drowsiness equates the urge to cum on his fingers. 

“Both? I wanna cum and then sleep a little more... If that’s okay?” 

Wonwoo hums in agreement as his fingertips drag through your folds - collecting the wetness on them before he teases your soaked hole. “Only a little teasing gets you this wet, hmm? So cute.” 

“Ah, f-feels good when you go slow t-too...” 

He stores that away in his head for later; chuckling against your shoulder as he slowly starts to dip his middle finger into your cunt. 

You feel warm and content when he starts a slow pace - thumb on your clit rubbing soft, slow circles while he pumps his finger into you. 

“O-oh, Wonwoo...” 

“You’re always good for me, baby. Always such a good girl.” 

“Ah, Wonwoo...”

“You can cum whenever you want. You deserve it.” 

He adds his index finger - thrusting both fingers into you as you mewl and arch away from his warm chest. Your toes curl and your thighs clamp and trap his hand between your legs as you start to grind down onto his nimble fingers.

“...W--Wonwoo...” 

“That’s right, baby. Call my name, let me hear your pretty voice when your cumming for me.” 

You turn your head - cries muffled into his pillow because despite his slower than usual pace, you find yourself already on the brink of cumming with his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and his thumb on your clit. 

“Mmh... Ah... Feels s-so warm... and g-good...” You mutter, eyes blinking drowsily. “Gonna c-cum...” 

He doesn’t say anything in return as he focuses on you and your pleasure; fingers scissoring and curling right into your g-spot as you clamp down onto them in a vice grip. 

Wonwoo knows when you’re about to cum when he feels your hand coming down on his forearm, holding onto him for dear life when your orgasm still hits you just as hard. 

“Ngh, Wo---Wonwoo!” 

Your walls flutter around his fingers and make it harder for him to thrust them in and out with how tight you get. 

“That’s my good girl. Cum for me, baby~” 

His deep voice makes you whine - nails digging into his arm and body trembling as the pleasure steadily washes over you. 

“Ah, bet your face is so pretty right now too~” 

“Mmh, s-stop...” Your cheeks burn in slight embarrassment from his constant praise but you can’t deny the way it goes straight to your core and only prolongs your orgasm. 

“Don’t be so shy, baby. It’s only you and me here.” 

Wonwoo leans away slightly to kiss the crown of your head - still working you through your orgasm as you sigh contentedly in his arms. 

Various thoughts run through his head in the moment, but the one that sits at the forefront of his mind is definitely how to make sure he kept treating you right. 

Starting with your date that he would spend time meticulously planning.

‘Ah, I should ask Mingyu for some advice.’ 

[hansoulo]

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

hi

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver.  “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

 “Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of  strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.  

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting.  “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 1

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationship

Length: 1.4k

Notes: Okay, here we go! Giving our babe Frankie an ending he deserves, with a few bumps along the way for fun. Divider by @firefly-graphics 💛

It was almost comical, you thought, at how different the realtor's listing was, compared to the real thing. You’d seen it enough times in bad Hallmark romances: city girl buys a property, property is falling apart, city girl miraculously has the funds to fix it up with the help of the perfect farmer neighbour.

This was reality though and you had already poured your life’s savings, which amounted to very little after all the surprise debts had been paid off, into this farmhouse. 

The "Quaint New England farmhouse, filled with the patina of a bygone era" was a wreck. Nothing to be done about it now, though. The crumbling two-story, just a few minutes drive from the small Vermont town, hadn’t been occupied in over a decade and was now in a total state of disrepair. 

Swallowing back your tears, feeling the burn behind your eyes and the hot swelling in your throat, you told yourself there wasn’t time for a breakdown. You first needed to take stock of the depth of damage, decide which rooms were habitable enough for the time being, clean, unpack, and prepare yourself for this new life.

The next few hours went by in an exhausting blur. By late evening, there was a larger-than-expected pile of rotten, broken, or otherwise unusable furniture in the driveway; your meager few belongings taking their place. On top of renovations and remodeling it appeared you would also be refurbishing. 

Sitting on the porch in the one spot where you felt confident the decking wouldn’t crumble beneath your weight, you looked over your list.

 3 cracked windows (can wait?)

 no running water in kitchen (ASAP FIX!)

 missing shingles (bad??)

 deck boards and upstairs bedroom floorboards rotten

 carpeted bathroom

 questionable smell coming from attic space 

peeling wallpaper/paint EVERYWHERE

Folding the list and slipping it into your back pocket, you made your way back inside to discover one last glaring issue, previously unnoticed until now. The electricity had been shut off.

Well, fuck me sideways...

Deciding it was too late and you were too tired to deal with anything else today, you settled for the flashlight on your cellphone for light. Eating the apple you had nicked from the motel lobby the night before, you laid back in your makeshift bed on the floor and gazed around your new home.

Your home.

The first thing you had ever owned on your own.

First, the corner of your mouth quirked up then you quickly allowed it to flourish into a grin. It may be a piece of shit, but then again, you were always attracted to broken things with the innate need to fix them. Maybe this time you’d actually succeed. With that sobering thought, you settled down into your sleeping bag and were quickly asleep.

Frankie couldn’t believe his eyes when he drove past the old McClure farm. Some fool had actually bought it! Chuckling to himself, he could already imagine the gossip that would spread through town tomorrow, everyone clambering to find out who had moved in.

He had moved out this way five years ago and was still considered the “new guy” in town. Hopefully, the new arrival would take that mantle and everyone could start using Frankie’s actual name. 

He’ll probably just be dubbed “newer guy”...

Breathing out a huff of a laugh at the thought, Frankie began to turn down his driveway. The long, meandering drive leads to a barn surrounded by rows and rows of apple trees.

Two weeks after having moved in, you’re certain you’ve met, or at least seen, everyone from the town. Muffins, pie, casseroles, and even a case of cider had been brought over by a few of the braver townsfolk who drove out to say hello. While they may have been thinly veiled excuses to come snoop, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. The food was delicious, and best of all, it was free.

She had stayed for most of the afternoon, helping you clean and setting her kids about to do menial chores. The eldest, Cole, was sent scurrying up the road to tell his dad to bring Gerta. ... You dared not ask.

The very first visitor was a neighbour from just down the road. “Jacquie,” she had informed you over the noise of her four kids running around the yard, “How do you do?”

She said it with the barest hint of a southern drawl and you instantly fell in love with the soft cadence of her voice. With a beaming smile and a surreptitious wipe of your dusty hand on your pant leg, you shook her hand and introduced yourself. 

A short time later, the most devastatingly handsome, all-American-looking man you had ever seen climbed out of a tractor and started carrying a large object towards the house, Cole at his heels. 

“Jac, babe, where d’you want her?” He called, voice straining a bit due to the weight in his arms. Smiling at you, he nodded his head in greeting, "Hiya, neighbour! The name’s Mark"

“Oh, I don’t need it,” Jacquie replied airily “I just wanted an excuse to watch your muscles at work.”

With a roll of his eyes, that did nothing to hide the adoring sparkle in them, her husband carried his load to the side of the house and with a thump, set it down.

Turns out that Jacquie had a fondness for naming EVERYTHING and Gerta was their gas-powered generator. Claiming they had no use for it, Gerta was yours to keep for as long as you needed her. Which, you had to be honest, was looking like a good long while. Willing away the tears, not for the last time you were sure, brought on by her kindness, you settled for giving her a bear hug. It wasn’t until you heard a little voice calling “Mama?” that you realized you had been clinging to Jacquie for longer than could ever be considered acceptable.

Pulling away gingerly, you started to apologize, quickly stopped by her hand coming up in front of your face, making you involuntarily flinch. 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry!” She started to exclaim before taking a deeper look at you. Then, without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head to the side and hollered at Mark to gather the kids and head home.

“I’ll be back past bedtime, so come give me y’all kisses now!” She lovingly bossed her brood.

Once they had cleared out, she turned to you, gently taking your hands in hers, and said, “Now, where do you want to start?”

“What kind of voodoo, witch doctor, hippy-dippy magic do you possess?!” you asked with a laugh while sniffing back the lingering tears. 

You had just laid out your entire life to a complete stranger. She had sat there, the whole time, holding your hands and your gaze while you had talked. Everything, you had told her absolutely everything. From the California upbringing in an affluential family to marrying your Highschool Sweetheart days after graduation. The sudden move, his surprise enlistment, his changing demeanor, the beginnings of abuse, all ending with his death while stationed overseas.

The pathetic Death Gratuity from the military barely covered the truck. You’d had to sell everything in order to settle all remaining debts. Your parents had offered to move you back home but the thought just made you ashamed. Moving back home? Being seen as a victim, being pitied by those who had seen your potential wasted? No way.

“Nothin’ supernatural, Darlin,” she assured you, after taking a deep breath to steady herself. It appeared that your emotions had started to affect her as well, you noticed with chagrin. “just the power of a good friend and a strong cider.”

Then came the aftermath. The debt collectors, the funeral without a body, his family claiming anything of value and you meekly allowing it, unaccustomed by that point to standing up for yourself. His grooming of you had started so early, and so slightly, that no one had seen it happen. He had controlled every aspect of your lives; it had made you feel like a fool during that first month as a widow. How could you not know about the multiple maxed-out credit cards? The ignored truck payments? The bank loans?! 

That comment made you look around and laugh, breaking the morose atmosphere in a flash. Scattered around the two of you were at least a half dozen bottles of the alcoholic beverage, which you had both sipped on during your sad monologue.

“Ahh, so it’s the maker of the drink I’ll have to kiss,” you proclaimed with a laugh. “I just saved a fortune in therapy bills!”

With a sly smile, Jacquie nodded, “That you will, send him my best when you do.”

Part Two

[ficsnroses]

An Even Exchange II - John Wick x Reader

series summary (oneshots, can be read as stand alone) : you sell your virginity to john wick. part 1

summary : john calls you for the first time after you agree to become his to use, whenever he pleases. 6.1k words.

warnings : smut, consensual sex. rough oral sex [male receiving]. *the lightest* bondage. x f! reader.

notes : hope you enjoy this! rushed through this part a little bit because I’m really excited to write that thing i wanted to write for this in chapter 3...wink. I did edit this at 2:30am after finishing studying, please bear with me if there are mistakes! feedback so so welcome. ily xx 

“When I need you, you come. No questions,

no excuses.”  

.

In the late of the eve, John had called her.

His contract, she’d accepted.

Short, the conversation entailed none more than his quiet words, confident, assured. “I need you tonight.” He’d spoken, rich, beautifully rung off his deep tongue, the sound as smoky as ash in his throat.

Part of her wonders, ponders about this mysterious man. Handsome, built on perfect shape, he’d surely have no trouble finding someone to satisfy his every need. Perhaps, someone who could offer him more than she could.

He’d been the first man she’d slept with; he’d taken her virginity. Surely, he could find someone far more experienced to take care of him.

John’s home is large; extravagant. Crisp white beams and shining glass windows. A large yard, tall built trees generously speckled upon the estate. Surely, John Wick is a lavish man, equipped with more than enough financial security.

He did buy her.

Walking further, the night sky gleams, the moon glows in cold warmth.

Cold warmth.

Bittersweet.

After the night at the hotel, she hadn’t been summoned by John yet. A loch 4 days later, his call had beckoned her in the late hour of the night. The thought of what she was walking into right now bites in her head, gnaws, the ponderings growing with each heavy step.

She wasn’t scared of John; she knew he wouldn’t treat her awfully.

If the night at the Continental had proven anything at all, it was the assuring fact that John would respect her, her boundaries. He’d use her for his every need, yet never without consent.

Something special seems to grow inside John; she’d learned that in a mere three hours spent with his manhood curled between her legs.

John fucked her twice more that evening, only bid goodnight when he’d had to call it a night, sleep dense on his sex satisfied form. A taxi swept her home that evening, dropped her safely in her home, John’s proposition heavy on her mind,

Her answer yes, even heavier.

With each step, the thought of what would be to follow exhausts her, even before arrival. Beneth her feet, the path seems to crumble a little more; distracted, restless, she finds herself unsure of what to expect.

Reading into her own emotions, thoughts, feelings had been tough over the course of the prior four days. Between the sheets, John was a force to not be reckoned with. He’d shown her the fucking stars, left her yearning for more through the entire duration of the evening. Kind, respectful, reserved, his naturally dominant nature only intrigued.

She found herself marvelling more and more about the man with the bolded tattoos, the soft, mocha hair that curtains his dark eyes, the broad scars and firm mauve bruises that littered his skin. She wonders if somewhere under a hard exterior, was something softer.

Wonders, muses, guesses.

His cocoa kissed hair falters in hues; strands lengthy, messier than the night at the Continental. A candle burns in his long, lavish hallway; a flickering flame, steady, stirring. He’d greeted her, a nod of his head, reserved, his demeanour professional.

“Can I get you anything?” He’d asked, voice firm, yet held with that familiar comfort that had drawn her to him nights ago. He was assertive, reserved, yet still,

kind. Had she met him on the glittering streets of busy New York, perhaps ran into him at a heavy trafficked coffee shop, struck up a conversation of how she’d seen his familiar coffee hued hair and mahogany eyes seldom in the secluded walls of the Continental, she’d never assume.

She’d never guess,

that sex was all he wanted. Something physical, was all he’d engrossed.

She’d gotten comfortable in the silence he’d hold, his persona exclusive. Nonetheless, the most she’d heard out of his gravelly throat were the occasional grunt of pleasure, soft, muffled moans laced with a hoarse undertone emitting the air as he’d be thrusting selfishly on top of her. To his question, she returns. “I’m alright, thank you.”

He nods, as she follows him up the profligate wooden stairs. Something inside her builds, the striking view of his toned back and muscled features tensing when he leads the way. His home is quiet, and much to her surprise, it looks like a home. Flowers in vases, paintings of daisies and sunflower blooms wreathed to tall white walls, crisp and snowy.

Flowers bloom in his home, solace currents.

She’d never thought, that John Wick, lives among pretty flowers, that bloom.

 From behind as she follows up the stairs, he looks towering, strong, defined.  

She stares, and she stares, and she thinks. That the evening would end, with this nerve-wrackingly gorgeous man, nestled, buried between her legs.

        The top of the stairs arrive, and with them, a new found suffocation. 

Shackled with dread, a foreign feeling prevails to the sight, perhaps astonishment, bewilderment. And even through the ice of his reserved, quiet demeanour, she’d swore she’d seen a flicker in his compose. A halt of movement, as he’d glanced their way as well, despite best attempts to avoid.

Pictures scatter scarcely along the crisp white walls; John, and a woman. Photographs of a couple, happily in love, diffuse the walls, in the home of the man who taken her purity not long ago.

Proof of something bigger disperses the walls; stipples the walls where she’d soon offer her body,

to the same man who’d looked smitten in them.

The joints in her neck creak almost glancing their way, her veins course with a poison of something dreadful. Brittle fingers mould along her sides, taking place in frantic burden.

Intrusion; the feeling of being out of place.

This room is smaller, emptier, colder.

A single king bed presents against the wall, center of the room, silk sheets and monumental pillows. John’s back tenses as he paves the way, perhaps a drain of the way her eyes held thick with worry, seeing the sights of the previous hall. His hands fall rested to sturdy sides, breathe collected, expression grim.

She knew less things about John than the amount of hours they’d spent together.

She’d fucked him more times than things she’d known of his personal life.

And with the realization fading in; of John being a stranger, with his own life, his own battles, she wonders. Wonders if this was wrong. If she was breaking a house, fueling the destruction of a home. The thoughts race, the worries set in. Her bones carry a weight that hadn’t been present when she’d entered the lavish home; the grimmer lights of the dimly lit hallway matching those of her weary mind.

A sharp edge cuts. Something cuts, and cuts into her, twisting uneasiness.

“I’m not married.” John’s deep voice interjects her ponder, voice harder than before, and a shiver falls, cascades her spine; and it has nothing to do with the frigid air of bedroom. His attention turns to her, only brief, eyes only finding her face for a mere second or two, before finding more comfort diverted to the hardwood below. “I’m not in a relationship,” He exhales, and she’d swore the lines of his forehead tensed with each syllable. “This…isn’t wrong. Rest assured.” He adds, and the silence that follows her gentle nod of head was near deafening. She’d listened to the erratic, uneven beat of her own heart to his statement, a dense swallow in her throat when his figure advances toward the bed further.

John had probably only communicated a meagre 100 words to her, and she ached to hear more. His broad, tattooed back holds a story she knows not all ears can retain. The whispers are real; the stories had made their way around.

John Wick hadn’t become what he is over the sun bidding goodbye to a dark night.

A man of focus, as greatly as him, is conditioned. Taught, hardened, habituated to kill.

The questions, she knew would remain just those.

Questions,

that John would never entertain. This was a business deal; and to his personal details, she had no right.

For a moment, he stops. His head turns slow, his reserved features hold the weight of a million words, pent up frustrations pleading to be let out. Their eyes meet across the room. She doesn’t understand the look in his eyes. And out of all the things she’d sworn he’d wanted to say,

One stays imminent.

Need. He needs her.

He called her here today because he needs her. Needs a vessel, a gateway to relief.

Her job is to take care of him, sexually. To make him feel good. She stands, observing the way his tall, dark frame reminds her of what was to come. He’d mould their bodies together as one so expertly, so skilfully,

John was all she’d ever tasted; the first, and only man she’d ever let touch her.

And the worst part of it all, was that she was unsure, she could ever let another do the same again.

John’s thrusts would leave her weak, the sex was something holy in its own right, and she, was falling hopelessly addicted with each session. Hopelessly intoxicated by the way he’d make her feel so, so fucking good, when it was her job to satisfy him.

His low, rich voice breaks the secure silence.

“Come here.” John beckons, peeling back the silken sheets of the bed. The week at glance had offered him nothing but dire, bone chilling work. Missions complete, exhaustion prevailed. The usual amber tones held in a tall glass of Bourbon compared none to the waves of relaxation she could provide him.

He’d been craving more. Physical satiation. In dire need of long repose, John found himself unwilling to wind down with anything other than her.

Tonight, he’d find relief inside her. His nirvana would come buried inside her warm, heavenly haven reserved solely, for him.

her buyer.

A heavy inhale cascades his lungs as he watches her, drawing closer. He toys, caressing the light threads of her top between his fingers deliberately, and a pitch black smoke pools his eyes, the weight of his member between the seams of his pants falling heavier, and harder, and thicker by the growing second. “I want this off you.” His smoothly rich voice leaks, and his hand travels, trailing, smoothing over the fabric rested to her figure.

Her throat goes dry. Anticipation builds. He toys with the hem of her blouse as she stares into his eyes; his watching the way her hands peel the textile off her figure. She needs him. Perhaps, more than he needs her.

John sighs, breath heavy, perhaps flustered by the rush of blood to his manhood at the sight of her body; something about the way her curves and dips fall so effortlessly to her frame, the way her long sleeve bodycon dress moulds, seducing each inch of her femininity under the warm bedroom lights.

Captivatingly beautiful. Enough to make any man weak in his knees; an enchantress.

His newly purchased toy.

Watching intently, a captivated John barely bites his lip in amusement, watching the skimpy fabric peel off her frame, revealing delicate lace shielding devourable womanhood. “Mhmm…” John barely sighs, the ring of a rich hum brewing in his throat as his eyes gloss, drink in the supple skin of her hips, the tender swell of her breasts under the lace. His hand travels nonchalantly to his throbbing manhood, palming tenderly with chocolate eyes firm to her body, and she’d swore.

In his head, he’d already undressed her a thousand times. His hands had already roamed, delighted each inch of her skin.

Leisurely, a sturdy hand falls inside John’s pants, his palm wrapping around the weighty shaft of his cock, rising eagerly to the thought

       of what he’d do to her

       tonight.

Pulling out his cock to the sight of her, half bare, awaiting his instruction, he opts for a seat to the Californian king, wanting so desperately to see her in all her glory. “Take it all off.” John affirms, an order she was willing to oblige.

John was the first to see her body fully on display, the first to set gaze to what only she had seen formerly. His prying gaze sends a pool of warmth, shivering goosebumps on her silken skin. Something about the way his gaze alone makes her feel so desired.

He sits, a heavy hand rested to his thigh, the other wrapped loosely around his swollen shaft, stroking, and stroking as his eyes watch, lock to her heavenly frame as she strips for him. Bulging veins throb thick in his dick, sensitive to his fingers touch, delicate to the sight of her unravelling, a gift just for him. “Beautiful…” He whispers, merely under constrained breath to the striking view, gruff toned, yet velvety as he watches her fingers un-clasp dainty bra hooks, allowing the textile to fall off her smooth shoulders so seductively. Her skin shines under warm light, and his hand unknowingly tightens around his base, eyes taut to her skin.

Right now, in this moment, everything he saw in front of him belonged rightfully, only to him. She belongs to him. For him to touch, for him to use as pleased. “Fuck…” A burning John mutters under his breath; a fire rummages inside his belly, the pent up frustration of a load inside him pleading to be released. With a stocky hand still offering tender strokes to his member, his voice gruffs, a deep baritone searing through the silent atmosphere. “Come here,” He punctuates. “On your knees, in front of me.”

Shivers emit down her spine, and her eyes find the floor, unable to connect to his just yet.

John was moral, humane. Yet still, he was her buyer. Surely, he wouldn’t hurt her or make her do anything she didn’t please; as confusing as it may have been, she wasn’t uncomfortable around him.

But she was nervous. Nervous that she wouldn’t do good. Nervous that she’d fall short of what he’d wanted. A sum as great as what John was paying her would break most people.

She finds herself pondering, why he’d chosen her.

“Show me how deep you can go.”

Like a lightening bolt. His voices come in crashes, pounding like a lightening bolt. Something about the way he speaks to her.

The hardwood beneath her feet was cool, she’d known her knees would bruise for him soon. A warmth drills inside, anticipation of what was to come builds, and she thinks. She marvels,

She muses.

Of how her owner would use her tonight. Of what he’d want her to do.

Following suit, she collects herself, kneeling in front of John on the bedroom floor, his menacing cock sprung erect a mere few inches away from her face. John allows it to fall out his palm, opting to caress the ends of his muscle toned white shirt, drawing it over his head, revealing that familiar, beautifully toned torso. Bold tattoos, complimented by fresh, deep purple bruises;

They hadn’t been there the last time they’d fucked.

And she remembers, under the dimly lit lights, the ink that stands bold to his back is a story; that perhaps his lips could dare not hold. She still wonders. She still guesses. She guesses, she guesses.

Tension tightens in his muscles, darkness ripples in his eyes.

John needed her sex badly, direly. The lonely depths of his desolate palm hadn’t sufficed since he’d been reminded of what human connection could do; how holy finishing inside a woman felt, paralleled to grey tissues and empty walls.

“Put those lips on me, sweetheart.” John’s voice illuminates.

Heavy curtains hide what went on inside the dimly lit bedroom. Veiled the way they sin in secret; Hid the way he was slowly creating a realm; one she’d touched not long ago.

One where only her and him were real. Pleasure was all that triumphed, his body the religion, and the alter was her mouth.

With cold hardwood underneath, she sinks to her knees in front of him, studying the way his thick hand holds his member, urging towards her lips; within seconds, she obeys. Lingering his length, she encircles his tip, shallowly taking the thickness into her mouth. Within seconds, every throbbing vein on his cock glides easily through her lips, cascading over her tongue, held by hallow, tightened cheeks. Tightening on her shining tresses, John’s head falls back in pure, unaltered, pleasure. His eyes close, his body tingles, the feel of her wetness swirling, exploring his shaft take over.

And in her mouth, he melts. He melts, and tensions fade.

“Fuck…” John sighs, eyes fluttering shut with each tender bob. She goes slow at first, offering kind, nervous bobs. His teeth grit, the sounds of sloppy slickness current through his ears, building inclination. Slow, steady, his palm trails, encapsulating around her hand as she works his length, bringing it his thick base. “Remember how I showed you, use your hands on what won’t fit.” He instructs, gently encouraging her to jerk his remaining length. She obliges, watching the way his chestnut eyes hold a familierness within them; despite being his, John treats her kindly.

Treats her human.

“That’s it.” He manages, groaning quietly under his breath as he gazes her, on her knees with his cock sheathed in her throat. It had been a while since anyone had taken him this way;

since he’d allowed anyone to take him this way, after... her. 

Hel. 

“Tighter, darling.” He breathes, tightening his grip to her messy hair. “Look up, eyes on me.”

Slowly, steadily, she bobs further, taking more and more, pushing herself. John hired her for him to use, to please himself. Yet she finds herself, pushing her own limits to please him. To be good for him.

With his cock throbbing in her mouth, she wonders; what it was, about the man with the bolded ink, the broad back and toned muscles.

Flattening her tongue over his length, she feels his palm in her hair, guiding gently, up and down, up and down on his painfully erect member, low groans and throaty moans leaving his lips in a delightful hum. As she ventures further, gliding more and more and more of him through her wet haven, choked gasps begin to emit, John’s bulge throbbing relentlessly now, weightier on her tongue. Punctuated by praise, and nonchalant breaths, she feels his spare hand move, planting to her bare breast as she continues to move. Tenderly, softly, his thumb swirls her hardened nipples, massaging, fondling the soft swell of her supple chest in his palm.

No man had ever touched her where John does, with each intimate stroke, each lustful touch, he marks her. Marks her as his.

The sounds of her mouth, they kiss his ears; the sinful, sloppy, wet sounds, the slurps, the vibrations against his cock offer an unholy wish.

He wanted more. He needed more.

With the baritone of his voice searing her ears, his question comes as she continues to move, allowing his tip to hit the back of her throat with slow, stable bobs. With a heavy hand travelling up, planting to the nape of her neck, John signals her, ceasing her devour of his erection. Muscles tensing, she gazes the way his biceps fall beautifully firm, his beard lays perfectly groomed, a darkness rippling in his chocolate orbs. Reaching forward, his warm thumb brushes over her ever so slightly buzzing bottom lip, voice deep, ringing with currents of dominance, assertion. “Do you trust me?”

As if habitually, she feels herself nodding slightly in return. Without thought, without said. She nods, and she stares, and she stares, and she stares, feeling his gaze sink into her. Without a moment to waste, she watches John raise off the mattress, opting for a stance towering over her, leaving her still on her knees, his cock dangerously close to her mouth still, glistening with her wet saliva falling in strings off his shaft. Gazing, she swallows a dense lump, watching the way he takes hold of an intimidatingly large erection, guiding it back to the security of her lips, swirling his head around the plump of her pink stained mouth. With a hand firm to the back of her head, he pushes a conserved amount of his length back into her mouth, his hand that had been holding his cock finding the back of her head, accompanying his other.

His voice flows through the room, heavy, shallow. “If it’s too much, squeeze. I’ll stop.”

And without warning, he sinks deeper, and deeper, and deeper into her throat. Only stopping when he knows she won’t be able to fit more. His hips rock, slow at first, his hands keeping her head situated still in place, slowly beginning to move faster, faster, harder, quicker. Incoherent gags fall her throat as the realization of what he’d begun overtakes her.

John, was fucking her mouth.

Exactly how he pleased,

however, he’d want.

Loosening her jaw, her hands plants firm to his callous, large thighs, feeling each vein, each curve of his dick plummeting across her wet, soaking tongue. Completely at his mercy, the sound of hallow gags and a mouth full of cock impend the room, gasps for breath muffled by his immense size sizzling in her throat as he thrust, and thrusts, channelling his needy pace into the vessel of her mouth. Hot tears char against warmth skin, his thick balls thudding against her chin as eager hips buck impatiently into her mouth, harsh praises and tender approval falling his deep baritone.

“You’re alright, darling.” He allows, warm thumb brushing, wiping away the sear of sweltering tears hot on her cheeks. “I won’t hurt you.” Unchecked tears and muffled moans follow suit, peppering the air as he thrusts, pulsating, throbbing, twitching in her mouth.

Bliss overtakes, John’s each nerve snapping, tingling with blissful warmth. She’s working wonders on his cock, louder, courser moans surface his throat, eyes fluttering in and out of light as his head falls back, diminishing into the feel of her. He shudders, shivering with each dip; the warmth, the tightness unlike anything he’s ever felt before. She, was quite literally, something else. He thinks to himself, he dreams to himself, of how he’d went so long, without someone like her. With each sink, his jaw tightens, goosebumps peppering his skin, chest heaving as she tries her best to hold in stifled gags; his hands eventually moving to cup her soft cheeks on either side as he drills into her mouth, chasing ecstasy,

-until with an abrupt pull, her head yankers back in his grip, silky strings of saliva connecting to his tender length; his cock falling out her mouth still hard. Still filled with need. Feeling a mess, her brows thread in confusion, eyes wet, lips seeping the wet pool of slick he’d created inside. Her skin singes, a char in her eyes from the burn he’d left.

“On the bed.” He eventually ordered, flustered from a rush of his own paradise. His cock aches, his body yearns for the walls that squeezed, nestled around his member nights ago. If there’s one thing John knew, it was exactly that.

His release, needed to come from being inside her. She was far too heavenly to finish elsewhere. She obeys, finding place on the silky bed, supple skin and exposed womanhood making her appear all the more appealing. John’s member twitches to the sight of her; tantalizing, a sex siren, and she didn’t even know. “I want to tie your hands.” John speaks, ravishingly rich. “Do you consent?”

She’d nodded. She wasn’t even aware, when the words swirled inside her head, and when her hazed conduct nodded diligently.

She’d nodded, to be truly, at his mercy. She’d watched him, collect rope from a wooden beside drawer, positioning himself behind her, gently pulling her wrists together. He restrains them, fastening an knot, leaving her brewing with anticipation of what he’d do next.

Excitement, eagerness to be fucked selfishly by him.

“Our contract will be regular.” John adds, towering tall beside the bed. Fishing a condom from the box, he slides it onto his thick manhood, his gaze turning locked to her body spread for his taking in the sea of sheets. “If you’re comfortable taking oral contraception, I’d encourage it.”

The pill. He wants her to get on the pill.

She nods. She nods to all the propositions that spill his lips. She nods, and she nods.

In his nude glory, she observes his body, once again. His, was a body she adored, awaited. Mammoth length, finished with that familiar rosy tip. The thick veins, the sturdy shaft, the dark bush that jungles around, protecting the treasure that was his beautiful cock. She swallows, she gulps in the glory, and her mound tingles when he climbs on the mattress, the weight of his body sinking into the foam. Carefully, feverishly, he peels her bottoms off, a pair of sexy lace underwear matching the bra she’d removed earlier. With thick fingers and a callous hand, he palms her pussy, spreading the nectar that seeped for his taking over needy folds. He spreads her legs open further, palms placed under her gorgeous thighs; opening her up just enough to see a sheen of slick arousal coating her cunt, paired with a salacious sight of her sensitive clit, too.

With his body hovering over her, John takes in the delicious sight of her body underneath him, bound, at his mercy, for his taking. Hard, deeply shaded nipples, satin skin, plump on her chest, her breasts swell so deliciously; he finds it impossible to resist. With his cock sheathed heavy in his hand, John offers himself slow, prepping tugs as his lips trail, sucking, leaving a lone, delicate mark painted into the sensitive skin. She gasps at the pressure, wincing almost, swallowing thickly when she glances between their bodies, gazing the sight of his thickness erect in his hand, preparing to take her.

With two sturdy fingers glossing over her, he gazes the slickness; the moisture gathered between her folds, all for him.

All for him, to sink into. With his hand palming her pussy delicately, his voice interrupts, deeply rich, reminding. “Tell me to stop if you need.” She nods, remembering, of the way he’d said the same the first time he’d used her. John Wick could ruin her, if he wanted.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. She wonders where this humility comes from, how it lives in him. Yet, she keeps mum. She wont ask, she won’t intrude. This contact signifies merely, an exchange.

An even exchange; for him to get what he craves, for her to get what she needs.

Without much warning, John’s weight sinks into her entrance, the throbbing veins brushing her sensitive walls, quelling an obscene desperately muffled moan from her mouth, eyes widening, arm coming in rescue to cage in yelps and whimpers that threatened to fall.

The burn. God. God. Why does it hurt so much, at first?

The electrifying sensation of John’s cock burying into her overtakes; the searing burn of the stretch he leaves behind unmatchable, soliciting sinful whines from her body below. With her eyes falling shut, and her walls clenching around him, the sounds of John’s haste picking up fills the room, his hips eagerly pounding her tight, delicate pussy seconds in. John’s lust filled, dilated eyes gaze down, his hands holding her hips secure in place as lewd moans caged by her arm over her face barely whimper; his cock pulsing inside her cushy walls, grinding against that oh so tender spot between her legs. With his fingers threatening to paint bruises into her skin from his delicate hold, she feels John’s grip on her waist tighten, rapt with desire. Sucking in a sharp breath, his hips pick up pace, groaning quietly to the feel of her pussy, and he thinks-

Her pussy was made just for him; perfectly mould for him, to indulge in.

Her breasts bounce beautifully, her body jerks with each volatile thrust, his need cultivates further. The sounds of his balls smacking against her womanhood send him further, the symphony of her stifling yelps and imprisoned whimpers begging to be heard by his ears as he works her. “You...” John breathes, hips snapping relentlessly, animalistic into her as he grips her tight. “You don’t have to stay quiet.” He clears, confirming. Although this was an exchange for him to receive mind blowing sex which he so desperately needed, he didn’t mind her enjoying herself. In fact, he preferred it. He wanted it. Her moans of pleasure would confirm; that she was alright.

That this was alright.

With a nod of her head, Y/N removes her arm from the cusp of her face, eyes fluttering shut, only opening scarcely when John’s pace never slows. Panting above her, John rolls his hips aggressively, biting his lip to the sight of her unravelling underneath him, and she trembles.

With her eyes closed, she finds herself lost. Lost in the feel of John fucking her so deliciously, so intoxicatingly, the perfect amount of pain and pleasure. The pleasure that pushes her over, the pain of his godly size that only intensifies it. Her back arches, legs practically falling limbless. Sweat trails down their backs, and they release shuddering breathes.

The sound of skin assaulting skin fills the room, and when her nimble fingers crave to sink into his skin, the pressure builds further, anticipation darkening within her. The pleasure is so intense, she practically screams, beautifully frustrated, begging, pleading for her tied up hands to be free only to clench onto John. She felt herself, craving to hold onto John. A mixture of their juices coat her thighs, John’s member glistening under the lights from the sheen of her arousal. The smell of sex floods around them, the heat shared between their bodies sending a turmoil erupt. Her toes curl, and each nerve inside John builds and builds, on the brink of release; he feels silky drops of pre cum spill inside the barrier of the condom between them, he only wished it could add to the heaven of wetness she’d made, just for him. Squirming underneath him, she practically whines from the force, yelps, moans, tightens her cunt around him tightly as he continues to rummage into her body, allowing those familiar, boiling hot tears to warm up her cheeks from the sheer heaven he’s channeling into her. “John…” She gasps, desperately attempting to gather her choked breaths. Her voice breaks, and she inhales a shuddering draw of air. “Oh…John!”

He feels himself slam into her harder, and harder, melting inside her. It had been far too long since a woman screamed his name. Far too long since he’d had the pleasure of sharing release with someone. He swallowed every noise to leave her lips greedily, and she shuddered against the burning feel of him drilling into her heat, over and over, and over, and over. Enticing whispers of praise for her body fall off his lips, as if flowers to her ears. 

She’d never had anyone before John; the whispers of him voicing his pleasure from her only sent her further into oblivion. She feels herself growing tender, more tender by the second, the pressure building inside her core preparing for a release she knew would show her the stars; John had done the same only nights ago when they’d first exchanged service. He shudders, shivers, groans in his deliciously deep, bass heavy voice; feeling her squeeze around him harder when she screams his name a final time, her orgasm washing over in waves of cloudy, beautiful bliss.

His chest heaves, rhythmically, lust drunk and buried deep inside her, he huffs, pants above her, chasing his release, when it builds just to the brim, finally, desperately pulling himself out of her soaking cunt, the dainty condom harshly peeled off his dangerously firm, mighty cock, discarded hastily to the bin below.

Bringing his hand to jerk, tugging his harshly erect, tender cock, he watches her, flustered, skin sticking with sweat, cheeks warmed with after sex bliss. A euphoria has washed over her form, a paradise they’d created together; and he warns. He warns quick, before chasing his own. “Open your mouth, sweetheart.” He breathes through shuddering inhales, still jerking his sensitive bulge, watching her oblige, understanding exactly what he wanted.

He’d ripped off his condom tonight, before cumming. And suddenly, she realizes why.

John Wick, wanted to finish on her face.

With her mouth open, she anticipates. Another first added to her list of firsts when it came to her sex life. Another first, that came with John. John Wick; the mysterious, reserved John, who she knew next to nothing about. John Wick, the man she knew she’d have many more sexual firsts with.

And with his cock spilling release, she feels him inch closer to her face, unloading milky ropes of slick, glossy hot cum over her features; a considerable amount layering the insides of her mouth.

His cum, all over her mouth. Her face, tainted with his seed. Her hands, tied by his desire. Her body aches fiercely, her pussy remembers the force he’d channeled into her, and pleads for more. With his cum painted to her face, she feels for the first time.

She is his. She is his.

With a final grunt, John falls beside her on the bed, catching his own breath, and she sighs briefly, still flustered, at the feeling of lightness in her chest; vision growing fuzzy. Her head turns to the gray ceiling above, panting blissfully, stuck in the euphoria he built around her.

This world John was creating, this realm they both would exchange, was becoming something beautifully intoxicating. Something she wanted more now than, before. Turning her head slight, she’d barely noticed the shift of weight off the bed to her side as he’d untied her, his sharp, regal profile distant now as he grabs spare towels from the bedside. Laboured breaths calm immediately, easily smoothing out into an even rhythm.

Even the sound of his breath, flowing,

Sends a shiver flutter inside her.

Slowly, gently, he hands one to her, his naked form still in full grandeur as his buttery voice speaks, snapping her out of oblivion. “You’re alright?”

She only nods, connecting her gaze to him as she sits up, elbows base on the bed as she holds her weight up. Nude, the familiar blush of being completely naked in front of him brings a warmth to her cheeks, and she shies, crossing her legs closed, wiping her face of what he’d left behind.

John watches. He watches, and drinks her in. He’d gone so long without sex, without real touch.

But now, he had her. He had her service. He watches the way she swallows a lump in her throat, vapour dotted across her skin from their exertion.

She was gorgeous; beautiful, not that he had any right to think that. He’d only had right to her service. Her amazing, mind blowing service. The same service, that had kept him up nights prior, lost in reveries of the way she’d made him feel.

Unlike anything that could be moulded into coherent words. A goddess in her own right.  

He finds himself, far more relaxed, relieved than he’d been before she’d accepted his request for her to come. In the moment, relieved, sex gratified, John thinks to himself. Thinks of how lucky he would be from now on, to have her

whenever

He craved. His proposition had been spontaneous; a mere proposal after their first meeting; his sex clouded and intensely satisfied mind propelling him to offer. Now, after hearing her approval, her willingness for their exchange being a regular occurrence bound by contract, John electrifies.

He thrills, he rouses. His cock pulses to the mere sight of her in his guest room bed, beautifully crafted. His pensive gaze soaks into her; nude, jaded, the beauty of her splendour.

The beauty of her body. The sinful sight of her holy, delectable body. His eyes move to her pussy, glistening with product of what he’d made gush from her; a symbol of what was his. Her pussy, belonged to him-

for the duration of the contract, for as long as he owned right to her service.

He glides a shirt over his torso, a pair of grey boxers to accompany. The thought of a crisp pour of amber bourbon kissing his tongue sounds divine; a post sex drink to level nerves. Calm, collected, he gazes intently the way her sex smitten body positions, the trance dying down, her haze still thick, her skin vulnerable to prying eyes.

“I want you in the shower.” John speaks, rhythm of his tone reverted back to the reserved, assertive tenor. “Have yourself ready, please. I’ll be back in 15 minutes.”

        He’d be back for more. He wanted her, more.

Brittle fingers.

Insignificant, little, brittle fingers.

They’d begged to reach for him, pleaded to touch him the entire time he fucked her mindlessly.

Something fitted across his expression when he’d turned to face her briefly, eyes flickering down, and up absently. Something wrote in his features; something she wanted more and more each time their bodies became one.

        He, was her first.

        And she, wanted him, to be her last.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

“Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

[awkwardgtace]

Secret Brother Pt2

Continuing Ian and Mikhail gonna keep the same tws unless someone's asked for changes

TW: mentions of abandonment. Later parts will have mentions of a borrower being treated like a pet this is entirely painted in how fuckin wrong it is and how it added to the trauma.

Part 1 Part 3 (Final)

Secret Brother Part 2

Mikhail started living a double life after that. He was making good progress with Ian. He wasn’t sure how Ian had made any kind of home before, he seemed to struggle with basic bits of borrowing. It was becoming the highlight of most days to go home and sneak in to his own house the size of a borrower. Ian seemed almost nervous to be left in a house with a human alone, it didn’t make a ton of sense. The thing that started his move before must have been pretty bad.

The last few months had been a bit stressful too. At least one of his students seemed aware that the dorm ‘ghost’ had left with him. She claimed it was discussing her thesis, but it seemed to be highly focused on borrowers. Although she kept calling it a hypothetical idea of small beings. A study on the folklore of creatures like that which pop up in a lot of cultures. Finding ways to push her to new topics was becoming hard. Mikhail was looking forward to his afternoon with Ian.

“Ian, you around bud?” he called out. Ian rushed at him, covering his mouth. Mikhail looked at him curiously. Ian slowly slid his hand off him, seemingly happy with the silence. “What was that about?”

“I, uh, I thought I heard the human before,” he said nervously. Mikhail had been quiet, he hadn’t even opened his door. “I figured we should be extra quiet today, or just stay here, I have enough supplies for at least a week.”

Mikhail studied him, this wasn’t normal. Even if he made noise on his way, he can’t hear the noise in the walls as a human. Well he couldn’t hear them this far in, he made Ian move to make sure of that. Ian was jumpy, looking around like something would show up out of nowhere. He’d go with it for now, they’d hang out in the walls. He could teach him better sewing and they could work out the paths a little more.

“All right bud,” he said, hoping the smile would calm him. “We can stay in the walls just get some chores done in here, set up some extra paths you may need.”

Ian visibly calmed hearing that. He grabbed Mikhail’s arm and dragged him to the makeshift table. He had plenty of projects he started and needed guidance on. Mikhail was happy to oblige. They worked in a casual silence, Ian showing the parts he struggled with and Mikhail guiding him. It was a pretty normal day as far as life for a borrower is concerned, but Mikhail couldn’t ignore how terrified Ian was. It couldn’t just be that he thought he heard Mikhail, or well the human sized Mikhail, in the house. He was trying to think of how to bring it up when Ian dropped his project.

“Mik,” he started. “You’ve been coming to this house for a long time right?”

“Yeah it’s a normal stop,” he answered. He didn’t think he wanted to know where this was going.

“What do you think of this human?” Ian looked at him, his eyes had something in them he couldn’t read.

“I’m not sure what you mean bud,” he knew the right responses, but didn’t want to give them. He didn’t want to encourage Ian to be afraid of him.

“L-let’s say, there was a human you knew was bad, like really bad. If you had to pick between them and the human here, which would you pick?”

“I mean, as far as I can tell with this human, they wouldn’t do anything bad,” he started slowly. “I don’t know how bad the bad human would be in this scenario, but I’d pick the human who lives here. I’ve known them for an extremely long time, they don’t seem the type to do anything cruel.”

Ian nodded solemnly. Something was going on and he wasn’t telling him. Mikhail was tempted to push, but there wasn’t a good way to ask. He didn’t like leaving like this, but he had some work to get done this weekend, he couldn’t stay. He ruffled Ian’s hair standing to stretch, then started gathering the few things of his he brought with him. Ian grabbed his shoulder tightly.

“Mik, can you stay? For a few days?” his voice was small. Mikhail wanted to stay, to help him with what he wasn’t saying, but he couldn’t. He had to grade assignments and review thesis topics. He turned with a sad smile to Ian.

“I’m sorry Ian, I can’t. Honestly I may be gone for about a week this time. I can’t put off this work much longer. It won’t f-”

“Can I come?”

Mikhail sighed, “Ian I can’t take you with me for these trips. It won’t feel that long promise.”

Ian let go of him. Mikhail turned and saw he looked close to tears. He pulled Ian into a hug, holding tightly. Ian melted into it, seeming to need some sort of reassurance. Mikhail was more reluctant to leave, but he had to work so they could keep this up anyway. He let go and moved towards the exit, relieved to see Ian sitting back down at the table. He’d tell Ian the truth next time, he had to know he wasn’t as alone as he thought when ‘Mik’ wasn’t around.

“We’ll talk about some important stuff when I come back too all right?” he asked. Ian perked up, nodding with a look of relief. Things like that seemed to calm him, promises that meant he’d return without that being the promise. Once outside the house Mikhail waited a few minutes before shifting back. He needed to make sure Ian wasn’t planning to follow him. Once sure he focused and the world returned to its usual view. He took slow steps toward his car, climbing in to move it. Next time he saw Ian wasn’t going to be easy. He pulled the car off to the side, hidden completely from view for the weekend.

He sighed as he walked in, far from excited to deal with the guilt he’d be feeling. He went straight to his desk, if he could make it through the papers fast enough he could talk with Ian sooner. He pulled out the first and got to reading, blocking out the world around him. Ian wouldn’t come out for a while based on how he was acting. Hours passed as he worked through the assignments, a number of which would need to be completely redone. The black ink on white paper getting to him, he walked out to get a drink. The house was dark, he never bothered to turn on any lights when he came in. He reached the kitchen and flicked the light on, nearly screaming.

Sitting at the center of the table was Ian, his hook placed clearly out of reach. Mikhail couldn’t believe his eyes. He decided to act like he saw nothing, continuing on to get his water. He would go back to his desk and then Ian could keep up whatever crazy thing he was planning. Unless this had to do with the question earlier about trusting the human here. Did he know it was Mikhail who lived here? Ian must have figured it out. He turned to leave, trying so hard not to let his concern show.

“H-human!” Ian called out. There went any hope of pretending not to see him. Mikhail locked his eyes on Ian, the boy flinching as he gained the attention he wanted. Mikhail crouched down, getting himself eye level with the borrower. He was barely ready for whatever this meant.

“Hi?” he said. He had no idea how to do this. Wait he called out human, does Ian not know?

“I-I want to make a deal with you.” Ian was trying to be confident. Mikhail felt a lot of pride at that. He was so much more confident than he was a few months ago.

“What do you need?”

“I-if you’ll keep the bad human from me and my friend I’ll stay with you.”

“Wait what? What bad human? What do you mean stay with me?” Mikhail was utterly lost. Ian was here in front of him when he was human. Offering to stay with him in exchange for protection from the bad human. Now he really needed to know what was going on. He leaned down on the table, arms as a pillow, to be a little closer.

“I-I ran away from a human. They were keeping me as a,” he paused a mixture of fear and disgust on his face, “as a pet. I’ll stay with you as one if you’ll keep the bad one from me and my friend.”

“First no to that whole pet thing, you’re clearly a person. Second, I need to know about this bad human to help.”

“I-I can be good. I won’t run from you. I’ll be the project thingy for you they were talking about. I can-”

“Whoa slow down buddy, I just need information.” Mikhail was trying hard to stay calm. This is what scared him so much. Some human kept him as a pet and brought him to the school. Mikhail was going to deal with this, later though for now Ian had to calm down.

“I can do tricks, I won’t complain really. You can go get a cage now and I’ll wait right here. I won’t move at all. I won’t fight if you try to show me off either. I’ll be a good pet just as long as you protect us.”

“Kiddo, I just said the pet thing isn’t happening. I’ll just help you if you talk to me about this bad human.”

“I’m not stupid. I know you’ll want something eventually. I’m giving you something. I know you spend time at the place the bad human had brought me. I’ll be obedient for anything you need just keep the bad one away. I put the only way I can get down far enough away. Just admit you like this idea and-”

“Ian, knock it off! I’m not entertaining you talking about yourself like that’s all you’re good for. You’re a person, damn it!” Mikhail shouted. He hadn’t meant to, but hearing Ian thought he’d like this idea hurt. Over the last few months Ian felt like a younger brother, he’d do anything for him.

“H-How do you know my name?” Ian’s eyes were wide. Mikhail didn’t realize he used his name, he’d gotten lucky until now. Ian seemed far more scared than before hearing the human knew his name, starting to back away. Mikhail stood up and backed off. This wasn’t what he wanted to happen. He was going to have to show him as much as he hated it. He made his way back over to the table gripping the edge with both hands. He focused on them as he willed himself smaller. He pulled himself onto the table then sped up how fast he shifted. Focusing his gaze on Ian once he was done.

“This,” Mikhail gestured to himself, “would be why you couldn’t come with me.”

[midgardianweasley]

hello! welcome to fanfic writing for hp and mcu! I was wondering if I could make a request for Freddie! Maybe something fluffy where he’s becomes familiar with the muggle world bc of work and takes his pureblood gf to London for the first time and just gushes over how cute she is experiencing all the muggle stuff for the first time? Thank you!

hello my lovely! I had so much fun with this request. I hope you like it!<3

Seeing the sights

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: Fred takes a week holiday from work, he’s been doing some travel over the last few months to muggle London and decides to take Y/N, who’s never experienced the muggle world, to see some of the popular sights.

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1864 words

Message/ask if you want to be on the taglist <33

“Hey sweetheart! I’m home!” Fred announced to the quiet home, hanging up his coat and putting his wand down on the unit beside the front door. He briefly thought that maybe his girlfriend was out somewhere, however, that thought was quickly discarded when he heard footsteps running towards him and before he knew it, a body collided with his chest. After recovering from his stumble from the collision, he looked down to see a mop of Y/H/C hair just below his chin. He went to speak, before hearing a slight mumble.

“Sorry Darling, what was that?” He chuckled, holding her arms as she gently pulled away, looking up at him, she smiles before responding

“I missed you”

“I missed you too sweetheart, but, I come with good news!”

“Ooooh, I like good news! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” She claps her hands, excited for what Fred was about to reveal.

“Georgie and I have closed the shop for the next few days, he and Angelina are gonna be heading off to Scotland on holiday, so, I was thinking that you and I could take a trip to muggle London!” He spoke, excitement in his voice clear as day. He’d been going to muggle London on business with his brother a few times over the last couple of months and he’d seen some places he wanted to share with his girlfriend, a pureblood like himself, as she’s never experienced anything muggle related before that wasn’t taught in a classroom. He wanted to show her firsthand to let her have an insight on some of the things he’d seen.

“The place you’ve been telling me about?”

“Yeah! The place that has the awesome cake I was telling you about!”

“There’s gonna be cake?”

“There will be cake”

And those were the last words spoken before she ran off in a hurry again, reaching the cupboard in the hall of their shared home, to pull a suitcase down and beginning packing. Fred smiled, happy to see that the excitement he was feeling, was mutual.  

~Timeskip~

The couple had just arrived and settled themselves into their hotel in the heart of London when Y/N bounced over to the windows in their bedroom and opened the door of their balcony, giving them a full view of the city.

“Wow, it’s beautiful!” Y/N spoke, wrapping her hands around the new pair of arms that had found themselves around her waist. Fred gently kissed below her ear, enjoying the slight breeze outside, glad they had worn their jumpers as it was starting to become fall season.

“So I was thinking” He began, still giving her quick pecks, moving between her neck and her jawline. “We could either chill out for today and see the sights tomorrow, or, we could spend the rest of today out and about and just choose what to do tomorrow depending on how you feel today goes.”

She thought it over for a few minutes, trying to decide whether she wanted to save the tourist stuff for later in the trip or start exploring today, when looking out at the busy city, it was suddenly really obvious what she wanted to do.

“I wanna go and see what that thing is!” She jumped, struggling to contain how eager she was.

“The big circle thing over there?” He spoke, following where she was pointing.

“Yeah!”

“Ahh, that’s called the London Eye” Leading her inside and helping her put her coat back on

“Wait, what? But there’s no eyes? Can that thing see?!” She exclaimed. He laughed before explaining that it wasn’t a literal eye, before leading her out of the door and smiling at how clueless she was, almost forgetting that it was exactly how he and George were when they first visited. Thankfully this time, Fred remembered the key card to their room, learning from an unfortunate mistake he and his twin brother made that resulted in the pair sitting outside in the hall for forty minutes, waiting for someone to let them back in. Y/N watched Fred put the key into their door, confused as to what he was doing as she pulled out her wand. Upon turning and seeing her eyes flutter between her wand and the rectangular thing in his hand, he started to explain again.

“This is a little card we put in this machine attached to the door handle, it locks and opens the door for us whenever we swipe it in this little slot here.” He explains while demonstrating, taking great joy in her face morphing as she tries to understand.

“We can’t just use ‘Alohamora’?”

“No Love, it’s all done the muggle way here, remember?”

Not entirely sure of herself, Y/N puts her wand back into her coat pocket and watches as Fred does the same with the muggle key card.

After a walk in Hyde park and hearing Big Ben ring out, scaring Y/N almost half to death ultimately causing Fred to practically fall over from laughing so much, the pair found themselves in Trafalgar Square, a soon to be favourite of Y/N’s.

“Can you guess why we’re here?”

“Uhm, to look at the fountain?”

“Well, yes, that, but, look up and to your left”

Y/N did as Fred had told her and gasped in excitement, for what felt like the thousandth time, when spotting the big cake logo above the doorway. Putting the pieces together, she knew that this was the place where Fred had kept bringing back Y/F/C from his trips. Fred took his hands from his back, to reveal two boxes of her favourite cake that she had been craving since it was first mentioned. Y/N wasted no time in taking the box from his hand, thanking him and opening it up, not stopping to wonder how the hell he’d managed to go and get it when she could’ve sworn she was with him the whole time. Her attention was brought back to Fred when he held a plastic, wrapped fork in front of her face, saving her from getting any crumbs or icing on her outfit. She took it from his hands gently and the two of them started to eat their cakes, occasionally taking some from the other person with large smiles painted across their face.

~Timeskip~

The sun had almost set now, the city now starting to light up with rows of street lights, headlights from the cars of people returning home from work to their loved ones, further accompanied by the lights from overlooking apartments. Y/N stood in the middle of the streets that had started to calm, but not by much, and spun slowly on the spot, taking in the beauty of the night atmosphere. What she had failed to notice, was that all throughout the day, Fred had been giving her the same look. He was completely in awe of her fascination and how she thought everything was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. He knew that the muggle world would be a new environment for her, causing him to feel slightly anxious when first raising the idea, but seeing her be so absorbed by everything, made him feel like his heart had grown double the size. Stopping on the spot, Y/N saw her boyfriend look like he was in a trance, making her shy under his gaze when realising he was staring at her.

“You okay Freddie?” She spoke, watching him blink a few times before stepping forward and hugging him, feeling slightly colder now that it was darkening. He noticed her shiver slightly, unwrapping his scarf from his neck and gently wrapping around hers, before holding her face in his hands, a soft smile on their faces.

“Never better, my love.” They pulled away from their hug, taking each other's hand, and walked towards the main event of the day, well, night time now. Waiting in line to hop on the ride, the two of them swung their arms back forth. ‘The eye looks so much bigger from down here’, Y/N thought, craning her neck to look at the top of the wheel, Fred not having to strain too much due to his height, but is still taken aback everytime he sees how tall it is, he chuckles to himself thinking that this must be how Y/N feels when looking up at him, not daring to voice his thought, knowing it would result in a slap to the chest, a light-hearted one, but it was better safe than sorry.

The line moved quickly until it was eventually the couple’s turn to walk into the pod-like thing, managing to have it all to themselves, the line not being as busy as it was during the day. When it started to move again, Y/N stumbled, holding onto Fred as she lost her balance slightly, not prepared for it to move so suddenly, causing the both of them to laugh at her clumsiness. Everytime they feel that they can’t possibly be happier than what they are or smile anymore than what they have, they’re proven wrong.

When they got to the top, an audible gasp fell from Y/N’s lips, if she thought that the views were pretty from the ground, seeing them from the top of this wheel was a whole other level. She walked closer to the glass, looking at all of the lights and tiny figures walking the streets. Sure, she’d gone flying on her Firebolt before and playing quidditch had given her a high view of a crowd before, but when flying, you can never really appreciate the views, especially not if you have a bludger flying towards you, something Fred had always made sure wouldn’t happen, knowing how painful it can be to be hit with one of those things. But with everything so still from where she was, there was no crowd screaming, no breeze whipping her hair in 50 directions, there was just serenity.

“Do you like it?” Fred broke the silence, eyes still focused on the girl beside him, watching her eyes go back and forth. He thought she hadn’t heard him she was so entranced, before she whispered a short “It’s incredible.” Another minute went by until she was pulling her eyes away and meeting with his, having to look up slightly. “I love it Fred. I love it all, today has been absolutely insane. Thank you so much.” She spoke softly, wrapping her arms around his torso and hugging him tight, but careful not to squeeze him. He returned the hug, arms wrapping around her shoulders and chin placed upon her head. A soft “you’re welcome darling” escaping him, careful to not break the peaceful silence they had.

And while Y/N was peacefully looking at the view, still wrapped up in Fred's scarf and his arms, her head felt empty with how peaceful the moment was, Fred felt the same, however, his head didn’t feel empty as he had one thought running through his head.

‘I’m going to marry this girl’

And thankfully, he had the ring in his back pocket ready to act on it.

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @dracofknmalfoy @gaycatlord-stuff

[jordanstrophe]

Be a Good Guest, 12

Gabriel getting his rescue arc <3

CW: Held captive, conditioned whumpee, manipulation, *inhales *parental creepy possessive overprotective intimate whumper, rescuing whumpee, drugging implied

masterlist

The day finally came; the day he was dreading. 

That morning Gabriel awoke to a new pair of clothes on a hanger strung from his doorknob waiting for him. It was a navy blue shirt, soft black jacket and dark jeans, the outfit Walter loved on him the most.

He had them washed and ironed just for today, the day his sister came just so he could show him off. He shuttered at the thought as he roughly tugged the shirt over his head. Hopefully, his sister wasn’t as monstrous as Walter was...

Right?

He nervously crept into the kitchen, Walter was cooking and baking like a madman. 

“Son!” He cheered when he noticed Gabriel. He shied away, but his arm was quickly grabbed as he was pulled over to the large chipped rusted mirror. Walter took both his shoulders and pushed him down onto the stool, mercessly running a brush through his hair.

He was normally very gentle with the brush, but he wasn’t today. He bit his lip with every rough stroke until he quietly whimpered “You’re hurting me...”

“Sshshh, now now, be tough. I want you to look perfect today.” Walter smiled, pressing the cold palm of his hand against Gabriel’s chin to tilt his head up to look at himself in the mirror.

“Just look at you, so young, so sweet. You look wonderful, son.” He smiled, stroking his fingers through his hair once last time with a kiss. Gabriel tensed and cringed, but didn’t dare pull himself away.

I'm not your son.

“We’ve got an hour, be on your best behavior, mmkay?” His arms wrapped around his chest as he rested his chin on his head with a smile.

“Yes sir..“ He shook with a murmur. 

Walter set the kettle while Gabriel nervously paced around the kitchen. He tried desperately to control his trembling legs, taking deep breaths and walking slowly, but his terror only grew with every minute that ticked away. 

“Don’t be nervous, dove. I’m probably more nervous than you! I haven't seen my baby sister in ten years.” Walter chuckled.

I doubt that.... You’re safe and life isn’t on the line...

There was a knock on the old wooden door as Gabriel froze. Walter practically jumped for the door with excitement. 

Life was moving in slow motion, he could feel his pulse pounding in his head as his legs threatened to give away.

Please... Leave me be... Don’t hurt me...

“Come, Gabriel!” Walter had snapped, but his voice sounded far and distorted.

‘I can’t do this’ Gabriel rasped beneath his breath. His hands fumbled for the doorknob to the basement, unlatching the cold iron lock. He curled up in his usual “timeout” corner on the cold floor as he draped his body over a forgotten rolled up rug. 

He hid his face in his arms as he let his sleeves soak up his tears. He would rather be left alone down here, then up there. Soon, angry stomps stormed down the stairs as Gabriel shrunk further into the darkness. 

“Gabriel! What on earth do you think you’re doing down here!? Get up!” He snapped.

“No!” Gabriel shouted, poking his head up just enough to see him.

“Let me stay down here, please! I’ll stay here as long as it takes to make you happy!” He cried.

Walter’s face fell from anger to concern as he knelt by his side.

“Gabriel, what are you talking about?” He asked. He let out a sigh as he thumbed away his tears. “You’re not in any trouble, this isn’t a trick, this isn’t a test. This is family coming to see you.” He smiled. 

He should have seen this coming, his dove was just too fragile for something so sudden. It was his own fault for not easing him into a big change. He was so small and helpless. He should have done a better job at caring for him.

"Just... Come meet her? Please? For me?” He gave his best innocent face as Gabriel sniffled, slowly nodding his head

“Atta boy.” He grunted, wrapping his arms around him to pull him to his feet. “Try to behave. And smile.” He encouraged, leading him up the stairs as Gabriel clung to him by his coat.

-

Malady’s eyes scanned the old living room. It was well kept at least, not a speck of dust nor stain. There were odd metal loops embedded into the floors and walls but nothing attached to them, just an old rusted metal loop.

How odd.

She heard muttering and shuffling coming from the basement, Walter had just said Gabriel was being shy and ran off to go collect him.

Even more odd.

She shook her head while shaming herself, she shouldn’t always think of the worst of him. She had painted him as a monster in her head all these years, she was here to give him a second chance. 

She plastered a sweet smile on her face when Walter finally returned, a figure hiding behind him.

“I’m so sorry for the wait! He’s not used to guests. Come on out now, Gabriel. I really want you to meet my sister.” He coaxed. 

Gabriel slowly came out from under Walter’s arm, looking up at her with nervous eyes. She couldn’t control her smile as it slowly faded into shock.

“He’s-..”

“Adorable, isn’t he?” Walter cooed.

“I-... That’s not what I was going to-...” She was at a loss of words. 

He was an adult. A clearly broken traumatized conditioned adult. 

“Come! Sit down, I made dinner!” He cheered as Gabriel flinched and hid back behind him.

“Right, of course!” Her expression instantly turned soft again.

The table was set beautifully, filled to the edge with an assortment of all the food groups and dessert. They settled at the table as Walter’s eyes darted down at her shoulder brace.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Good! Good, I got engaged last month.” She smiled proudly, flaunting the small ring on her finger.

“What!? That’s amazing!” He cheered, Gabriel shrunk lower in his seat at his sudden raised tone. “Ugh, whoever they are must be truly lucky. I’m sad I didn’t get to interrogate them to see if they were worthy.” He chuckled.

“So I uh... I got a hint of what happened to your shoulder.” He motioned. Malady sighed as she rested her arm on the table.

“Faulty parachute, combat medic training.” She sighed, weakly twitching the fingers of her right arm. She still wore the dog tag from the military, even though it had been three years.

“Enough about me, I want to know all about you two!” She smiled, resting her chin on her folded hands. “How’d you find him?” 

“He um... It’s a funny story.” Walter chuckled. “Gabriel was in a car crash and I took the liberty of taking him in! Didn’t have anyone else so he ended up staying for longer and longer, then we made it permanent!”

That’s a lie.

“Oh! Is that right, Gabriel?” Malady’s eyes darted to him as he shot with posture.

Two pairs of eyes burned into his skull, desperately awaiting his answer. Sweat beamed on his brow as his eyes fearfully darted between the two.

“Yes mam, that’s right.” He mumbled.

Walter smiled proudly, Malady only looked more skeptical.

“You weren’t hurt too badly I hope?”

Before Gabriel could answer, Walter spoke for him. “He was fine! A busted lip is all.” He quickly interrupted. Gabriel’s mouth slowly shut.

“Huh.” She murmured, glaring at her brother. 

“And where did you come from, Gabriel? You must have had a life before, right?”

“He hardly had anything! He was like a lost puppy wandering the streets.” He answered for him again. Gabriel’s expression darkened, but he said nothing.

That was a lie.

“Is that so... Well then, how kind of you to take him in, Walter.” She smiled.

That was... A lie?

She lied to me.

No one can lie to me.

“My dear! The tea is ready.” He smiled, abruptly standing up to grab the kettle. He set the golden pearly teacup full of steaming tea in front of her. “Wait... This-” She lifted the teacup, studying it until she found her initials engraved into the base.

“It was your old one, the one you left at my place, ten years ago.” He smiled.

“That’s right...” She murmured, pausing for a moment. 

“Anyway, as much as I'd love a tea, it’s far too late in the day for me, thank you though.” She smiled, pushing the cup away from her. “Keep the cup.” She winked. 

Walter’s face fell, twisting with disappointment... Disgust

Why didn’t she drink it?

She knows.

Doesn’t she?

“It’s the finest tea! I remembered how to make it just the way you like it. Really, you should give it a sip.” He smiled, his hand aggressively sliding it back to her.

“And I’m sure it’s divine! But I would really like to sleep tonight.” She challenged, sliding it back like a game of opposite tug-of-war between siblings.

“How about some herbal tea then! I can make a fresh batch.”

“I have a thermostat waiting for me in the car.”

“DAMMIT!” He finally snapped, grabbing the tiny teacup and smashing it on the floor as Gabriel let out a frightened yelp. 

In an instant, Walter grabbed the meat tenderizer sitting on the counter as he charged her. Her left arm shot out, catching his wrist in mid swing as she wrenched his arm to the side, throwing him against the wall as the tool fell from his hands. 

Gabriel bolted from the chair, knocking it over with a loud *bang* which scared him further as he locked himself in his room. Malady watched him sadly, but was relieved he wasn’t here to watch the rest.

“I know what you did.” She hissed, crouching down to his level as Walter trembled on his knees trying to get back to his feet. “I knew you hadn’t changed... But I... I had hope, Walter. I had hoped you got better. I’m sad to see I was wrong.” She sighed.

“Y-you...” He spat. “Yo-you can’t take him f-from me...” He growled as he glared up at her. 

“Yes I can.” 

"And I will."

@alien-octopus @yesthisiswhump  @lave-whump @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hamiltonwhumpdump @just-another-whumper @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @approach-me-and-ill-cry  @whump-it @kixngiggles @as-a-matter-of-whump  @five-fictions-5-9 @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @thelazywitchphotographer  @sophierose002 @happy-whumper @cowboy-anon

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ  Thank you for reading!

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

WELP here it is, my totally self indulgent reader x binsung fic that has developed into so much more than I expected!! thank you lovelies for hyping me up to write more of this story ily!! hehe we are indeed in for a spicy, angsty, and fluffy time!! You can read part 1 here

Part 2  

Paring: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst, 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!jisung, rapper!changbin, artist!reader, established fwb!jisung, explicit language, oral (f receiving), that good, good makin’ out,   sub!reader, cockydom!jisung, on that note, jisung being horny as hellll, the cutest bestfriend!felix there is, changbin’s flirty ass, a sprinkling of angst, ro being in her fanfic writer element uwu 

Word count: 3.1k

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

[00:19] 

han jisung: you like the performance? 

you looked stunning. 

where did you go? i couldn’t find you. i even stayed after. 

[00:28] 

me: oh really? just for me? 

han jisung: you left something at my place last time, I was going to give it back to you. 

me: that’s why you wanted to see me? i don’t believe you. 

[00:36] 

han jisung: are you doing anything right now? 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Against the heat of your sweating body on the matted quilt, a winter chill seeped in through the wooden windowsill, dusty with age. Had you not been burning with heat, you would have been freezing. Fistfuls of the quilt filled up your hands, and your fingers dug into the fabric hard enough to make your nailbeds change color. You hadn’t even noticed that you had been slightly grinding into his mouth. 

“you taste so good baby,” Jisung’s breath swirled into your swollen clit.

A tiny squeak escaped your lips at the sensation.

Both of his arms had curled under your legs to pull them farther apart, lending his nails to dig lightly into your skin. He chuckled out pridefully onto your sensitive bud, the vibrations heightening your arousal. Jisung kissed gently into you with the luxurious sounds of your excitement and his saliva mixing on his lips. His eyes held a mischievous green haze as he would look up at you with his big brown eyes, flattening out his tongue to lick at you in thick, agonizing lines. At last, he would suck and on your clit, flicking his tongue around it sporadically, as if he was giving every nerve ending his complete attention.

The way that he would suck on your clit was unreal.

As if to balance yourself, you raked one of your hands instinctually through his nearly black strands.  

“Ji--” You choked out half of his name, too weak to summon the rest.

You were impossibly close. With eyes scrunched up a little, they rolled up from his taunting gaze to your ceiling.

On the shitty paint job up there, there was a crack. It was an ugly crack at that: the kind that was browning from water damage and segued into other tinier veins. Your apartment was old anyway. It wasn’t uncommon for old apartments like that to have cracks in the ceiling.  

You hadn’t really recognized it before.

Why haven’t I noticed that before?

“fuck, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Mmhm.” You focused back on his lapping tongue, feeling the tension build once more. “ ‘M close.”

Jisung quickened his pace, sucking harder and rubbing the tip of his tongue over your mound. You could even feel the little haughty smile on his mouth when your hips jerked up toward him.

As you neared your orgasm, memories fogged your eyes, you let them roll over and over, relishing in how good it had all felt. Suddenly you wanted nothing more than to feel filled up hopelessly deep inside.

“f-fingers” Your whispers begged.

Jisung obliged, sliding his index and ring in to pump in and out of your walls.

Perhaps you had made it up to feel better than it was in your head.

You came a couple minutes after, limbs shaking under his teasing while he helped you ride out your high, tongue still circling around your clit. Shallow inhales filled up your lungs as you calmed your body.

You didn’t remember it feeling like that...you remembered it being...unreal.

Jisung lead kisses up your stomach before giving a couple fleeting kisses to your breast, smug as he always was.

“-Felt good?”

Little aftershocks still tugged at your body. “...As always Ji.”

“Mm. Good.” He beamed widely with the pearly white grin that had drawn you to him in the first place. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” Jisung tugged his boxers down, letting free his properly hardened member, veiny and tip dripping with his eager pre-cum. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Jisung prowled over your body, stretching out your legs up in front of him.

Your thighs shook in his hands.

“Jisung, wait--”

“--What is it?” Worriedly, his eyes widened looking down at you.

“...can we give it a sec? Can you give me a sec?”

His puzzled expression gave you his answer.

“I just fucking came Ji, can’t you give me a damn minute to settle down before we go at it again?”

His mouth formed a little “oh” then he slid down to lay beside you, brows crossed slightly. “...you’ve never asked for this before.”

“just shut up and kiss me alright?”

Jisung nodded, bridging the gap between your faces and the mess of pillows under your heads.

When Jisung wasn’t trying to fuck you, he was actually a decent kisser. Against your better judgement, there had been times when you would let your mind linger over these kisses that you had wished he had given you more of. His mouth was warm, and tasted slightly of your arousal from before. Jisung’s tongue asked for permission on your bottom lip, which you granted entrance. He leaned himself further into you, moaning breathily into your mouth. Just because you liked how he would whine for you, you pulled at his lip with your teeth.

You don’t know why your eyes had opened, but there it was again. The crack.

How long had it been there?

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“I just can’t believe you, Y/n.”  

Felix’s voiced echoed though the empty alley, your favored shortcut to campus. Dumpsters covered with snow lined the road riddled in potholes. In each hole, melted snow had leaked in to turn to ice once more. Felix had already slipped three times. Both of your arms linked together to make him feel better.

“How many times are you gonna make me apologize? It ended up being fine anyway.”

“When I say to text me when you get back, what are you supposed to do?”

“Text when I get ba-- “

“--Text when you get back!!!” The little puffball on Felix’s hat bounced in his frustration. “You couldn’t even text me to tell me that something had happened? Do you know how nervous I was?”

“Felix, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Does that do it?”

Your adorable companion grimaced at you, unamused. “I just think that I’m more astonished that you actually stayed over. What the hell did he offer to you? Food? Money?”

“Felix!!” You shoved him away from your body in your dramatic shock. “How dare you think that I would stoop that low!”

“...Well...”

“HEY!”

“You know how I feel about Jisung.”

“He’s not Jisung...that’s for sure.”

“You know about them Y/n. You yourself have said that they’re all the same.”

“Cocky, overzealous dickheads who know exactly what to do with their mouths?”

Felix rolled his eyes coupled with an annoyed groan under his breath. “You know that’s not what I mean.” He huffed out his breath into the freezing air. “His presence didn’t nauseate you?”

“I was tired. I honestly don’t remember falling asleep, I only remember waking up before the sun came up and leaving.”

“-Didn’t even say goodbye? See you again? Your phone number?”

“I don’t plan on seeing him again.”

“You don’t?”

“He...looked at me weird.”

Felix let out a flabbergasted pshhhh, which turned into a startled little gasp when his foot caught the ice. As always, you were there to catch his falls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That he looked at me weird! What the hell else is it supposed to mean?”

“Care to expand?”

It had been four days. Four days that had felt much longer than four days. Four days since he had looked at you like you like you were the only person to ever live and breathe. You knew what was in his eyes. It was something you hadn’t truly felt on your body for a long time.

“You’re perfect.” He had said to you, barely knowing more than your name.

In your lusty haze that night, you had said something about being all his.

You barely knew more than his name.

In the days after when you recalled the whole night, searching for answers to why you had said what you had, no explaination pieced together. You hadn’t belonged to anyone in such a long time, and you certainly didn’t belong to him.

He had asked to know you better, but you kissed the words away on his lips before he could say any more.

Your body shivered placing the memory of his fingers tracing up and down your back as you had studied his features, the two of you still connected.

You turned to your friend, “No. Because there isn’t anything more to talk about. He looked at me weird, and I’d rather not see him again.”

“~Oookay then~” Felix nuzzled into your arm. “You working today? Can you make it Chan’s after? We’re gonna play some Smash and there’s a new DLC!”

“-Can’t make it, I’ve got some projects to work on.”

“School or the other kind?”

“Both. My new paper should be coming today.”

“Suit yourself...but we’ll miss youuuu.” The peppy blonde squeezed hard where he held onto you, only to have his feet fall out from under him on the ice.

You quickly softened his fall, holding his body up before his butt would hit the concrete. “I don’t think that I’m the one that you should be worrying about ‘lix.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

From your favorite corner of the library, the sun would shine the brightest at sunset, and luckily, often your scheduling would let you see it. Sometimes you liked to think that you owned it in this little corner on the fourth floor. Better yet, it was situated near the stacks of old newspapers and periodicals so seldom did this corner see anyone else other than you.

The shelf was nestled near to one of the floor-length windows which overlooked the skyline. At this time of year nearest to the aftermath of Christmas, the city lights were still peppered with greens, reds, yellows and blues. You thought to yourself that there was nothing more magnificent than the way the sky would fade from the color of blood oranges to the depths of the ocean with the dawn. You had painted it nearly a hundred times, but each time you were left unsatisfied; it was impossible for your hands to recreate something so unique.

Standing this close to the glass, you could feel the winter cold emanating off of it.

“--Beautiful right?”

His voice had startled you, and for a moment you had thought that you had imagined him.

“‘Kinda thing makes me wanna write.”

He walked up right next to you, hands in his pant’s pockets. A billowy looking black hoodie wrapped around his body and his gaudy silver chain peeked from under his collar. You shouldn’t have expected him to look directly at you. He still wouldn’t give you the pleasure until you demanded it.

Silently the two of you stood watching the sun dissipate beyond the horizon for what seemed like hours. Just as you remembered, his massive aura was nearly suffocating. There was something new however: the scent of rosemary and cedarwood which hung around him.

At long last, he muttered, “You didn’t give me a chance to see you off.”

You swallowed dry. “What are you doing here?”

“You gonna answer my question first?” From the corner of his eyes, his stormy pupils teased you.

“You first.” You straightened yourself best you could.

“My roommate goes here. I was looking around for him. Your turn.”

Changbin took his hands out from his pockets to intentionally twist the silver rings around his fingers.

“I work here.” You answered, opting to finesse your way out of answering his question by answering yours.

“Huh. You’re a librarian?” He scoffed out a single laugh. “Why do I find this slightly ironic...considering where we met.”

“I just move stuff around. Ever heard of a part time job?” You clenched out the words between your teeth.

“Oh believe me, I have. Got a few myself. It’s what I get for choosing music over school.”

“How honorable.”

“I’m a man of honor...as you know.” His eyes finally cast down at you.

Frankly, your memory must’ve been shit, because he looked even more unreal than you remembered.  

“Actually, I’m kind of glad that I ran into you here. What a coincidence, huh?”

“--Sure.” You quipped.

Changbin tilted his head with a growing smirk. “Knees feeling better?”

“They��re fine.”

“Good thing that I was there to help you.”

“You don’t have to pretend like you’re talking about my knees Changbin.”

You turned to walk away, only for him to twist himself around into your path.

“You’ve got me.” He rose his arms up in defeat. “Since I didn’t get your number, I didn’t get the chance to tell you--” Changbin’s body mass leaned ever so slightly closer to you, his dark eyes glossing over with that same confidence that he held so naturally. He breathed into your ear, “I really enjoyed our time together.”

His words send a shiver down your entire body that you prayed he didn’t see. You took a hand flat to his chest to remove him from your space.

“D-don’t you have a roommate that you should be finding?”

“Libraries are big places. Plenty of places for me to get lost...”

He advanced again, cupping a hand to the side of your face and rubbing his thumb into the soft of your cheek.

There he was, looking at you again like that. Had it not been addicting, you would have been terribly annoyed by it now.

Changbin tilted his face nearer, his lips just barely grazing over yours. Something about his scent made you feel like you were enchanted.

“Have you been thinking of me as much as I have of you?”

He sucked in a sharp inhale, then sealed your lips with his. He took both sides of your face in his hands, holding on you with such a dire grip it was as if he felt like you would melt into nothing in his hands. Every run of his lips over yours was different from the last; but the way in which he poured himself into it all was the exact same. He used his full weight to push the two of you into the metal shelf, bracing the back of your head so you wouldn’t get hurt. Changbin pressed his body into you fully, nearly engulfing you with his broad chest. There was nothing else in his kisses besides pure, unadulterated desire.

Four days since he had kissed you. Four days that had felt much longer than four days.

Hesitantly, your hands twitched at your sides, deciding to hold him back. You hadn’t noticed, but his own hands had fallen from your face to cascade down your arms to wrap them around him himself. Under the fabric of his hoodie, you could feel every single curved muscle. Before you could explain it, your fingers traversed all around the expanse, drawing in all the pieces that your brain hadn’t thought to commit to memory. The second that you did, he smiled into your mouth.

“So you have.” His husky tone spilled into your ear after he gently broke from your lips.

Changbin moved to kiss at your pulse at your neck, leaving you to tremble under his fluttering movements. Your teeth bit into your lip as to not produce a sound; your fear of someone walking round the corner only made you more anxious and thrilled. He pulled the collar of your sweater down to increase the pressure of his mouth, drawing little whimpers from your throat.

“Changbin, what are you--”

Before he could do any more damage, he pulled back, putting your collar right back in place. Between the two of you, your exasperated little gasps filled the air. Slowly, he run his thumb over your slightly swollen lips.

“I meant it, I’d like to get to know you more.” He swept your hair back with a couple fingers.

“I was planning on not seeing you again.” You gathered up your will again.

Changbin tsked, “That wasn’t how you kiss someone you don’t want to see again.”

You pulled his hands from off your face. “I should be going. And you should too.”

“You’re unbelievable.” He scoffed with disbelief.

You really were. Just from kissing him, you had felt how inexplicably wet you had become. Every part of your body ached for just a little more, and you could have it. But you wouldn’t let yourself. He didn’t own you.

“Need me to show you to the stairs?”

“No.” He spat out the word. “Don’t walk away from this.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“I thought that I just made myself pretty damn clear.”

“--As did I.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Changbin strode up to you, the little thin chain on his pants swaying.

“Give me your number.” He said in earnest. For once, you saw his confidence falter.

“I said, I don’t plan on seeing you again.”

“--Then I’ll give you mine. You don’t even have to use it and I can’t reach out to you, how’s that?”

“You’re acting like I’ll want to.”

He exhaled out cooly, “Why the hell else would you kiss me like that?”

Why did you kiss him like that?

You reached out from your back pocket to slide out your phone. “Don’t expect anything. I’ll probably just delete it after long.”

He typed in the numbers, then grinned, announcing, “I doubt that.” Once done, he pulled your collar back up just a little bit higher to fix how it had become askew on your frame.

He sighed with finality, toying with his rings once more. “I think that I’ve been lost in here long enough.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

[01:47]

han jisung: are you doing anything right now?

Your pencil clicked down to your desk with a wooden little thunk. The state of your room was a mess; not like he would have cared. Back at your desk, you glanced down at your unfinished sketch and the scattering of watercolor paintbrushes and paints. During the late hours of the night, your brain would get hazy, and your inhibitions would likely smear like the little pools of blue watercolor accidently spilled on your desktop.

Your tired fingers typed out the word “no.”

Outside of your tiny window dusty with age, you could still see a bit of the twinkling of lights on the cityscape. During the night, they looked like a rainbow of stars reflected upon the night’s ocean.

Your tired fingers deleted the word “no”, then opened a new message. For a moment, you hovered over the keyboard.

[01:49] CB

You really were unbelievable.

me: are you doing anything right now?

[vivianweasley]

Just Another Bad Guy (Fred Weasley X Malfoy!Reader)

Summary: You are Draco Malfoy’s twin sister so everyone just assumed that you guys are the same. Not Fred, he knows who you are and loves you for it. But your romance was cut short after you were forced to become a death eater. Could the two of you find your way back to each other after all of this is over?

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Fem!Malfoy!Reader

Warnings: angst to fluff, war, post-war traumas, poor writing

Word count: 4.1K

A/N: I finished this a long time ago but got scared to post it for some reasons. Hope you guys would like it :)

Please do NOT repost my work or translate it on another site without permission! Thank You! Reblogs and comments are always welcome<3

To be honest, no one really knew what kind of person (Y/F/N) Malfoy is. But she’s the twin sister of the infamous Draco Malfoy, so everyone just assumed that they are the same: pure blood and proud pricks.

Including Fred Weasley, or at least before today’s incident.

He was hiding around the corner, watching the trip wire and paint hanging on the ceiling. He was waiting for Draco Malfoy’s twin sister to trip over and cause the green paint to fall on her. The color of her snotty little house would suit her.

But that didn’t happen. He just watched her walk over the trip wire and nothing happened.

After everyone was gone, he quickly ran to check what exactly happened to his prank that he has so meticulously designed. But the next thing he knew, he was covered in green paint.

He heard someone laughing and turned around to see Y/F/N Malfoy standing there.

“What are you looking for Weasley?”

“How did you...”

“Just a freezing charm and an hot-air charm used at the right time and right place.” Some of the green paint got into Fred’s eyes, but he was certain he could see a mischievous smirk on her lips. She bent over a little, as if trying to make sure he could see exactly who used his prank back on him, “I expected better from you, Weasley.”

And then the game was on.

You two started a pranking war while everything seemed to stay normal on the surface. Sometimes Fred would win, but most of the times his pranks would just backfire on him.

Then you two started to actually hangout, like sneaking out at night to prank Mr. Filch or to hangout in the secret passages. But no one knew about this. Maybe not even George.

Fred realized that you were nothing like what he imagined. Under your cold and proud look, there was something mischievous and wild in your heart, but you hid it so well.

Then the Yule ball came around. Fred knew there was something more than friendship between you two and obviously he has dreamed about taking you to the dance. But things were never so easy between you two.

He ended up taking Angelina to the dance. They went as friends. It was basically a group thing. And you went with a Slytherin boy in your year.

But both of you thought it would be a waste if the rest of the night was just like this. You exchanged looks while dancing with your Yule ball dates and snuck out on cue.

You met up at your usual hangout place, the astronomy tower.

He smiled, offering his hand, “Y/N Malfoy, may I have this dance?”

“You may, Weasley.” You smiled, taking his hand.

He pulled you closer to him and started dancing. There was no music, but you were humming a melody you loved.

The cold winter wind brought you closer and closer. Your humming was even better than music in Fred’s ears. Everything felt just right.

And you kissed, under the starry night.

No words were needed. You could tell how each other felt through the passionate kiss you shared.

------

But you were still a Malfoy after all.

Fred swore he felt like his heart was ripped apart when he learned that you became a death eater, just like your family. He snuck into the school for he wanted to see you again before the big war hit.

“I know you don’t want to do this, Y/N. You don’t have to do this! You can run away, just run away from all of this! Please!” He pulled you into a deserted hallway and tried to scream some sense out of you.

But your expression was cold, your family’s signature distant and proud look that you put on all the time, “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?” Your voice was even colder, “You’re just another stupid Weasley.” 

There it was, you said it, the words that was going to haunt Fred for years. Even though he absolutely denied it.

And the war hit. You were on opposite sides. It was brutal. Screaming, blood, and corpses everywhere.

Fred fought with all his strength. After successfully taking out three death eaters, he saw the wall behind him falling onto him. It was too close and too late to run or cast any spell. He closed his eyes. Could this be the end?

But nothing happened. Someone casted protego shielding him from the falling wall, giving him enough time to escape. He looked around, but no one was there.

Knowing that he now owed his life to someone, he fought even harder, until Voldemort finally met his end.

From that day on, Fred never saw you again. He would still think about you of course, but he would soon try to think about something or someone else when those horrible words that you said hit him again.

He knew that you became a writer and published your memoir when people’s hate for former death eaters faded out a little. He has read your book secretly on his lunch breaks in Flourish and Blotts. The book was simply stating what happened and it wasn’t too emotional overall. But just stating the simple facts was enough to let the readers know that the Malfoy twins were not as evil as they thought they were.

All you grew up with was ideas like “pure bloods are the superiors” and “we must follow the Dark Lord”. You never had any choices and even if you had, it was a simple choice: you do what you’re told to do or you’ll get your family killed. And deep down, Fred always knew that. He sometimes would wonder could it be possible that you said those words because you knew the two of you won’t ever have a chance of a happy ending? Could it be possible that you said those words to protect him?

And one thing that definitely caught Fred’s attention was the title of your book, “Just Another Bad Guy”. The wording looked awfully familiar to him, making him wonder could be possible that you also couldn’t forget those cruel words you said to him, calling him “just another stupid Weasley”?

But he also found that you have never mentioned anything about the Weasleys in your book. Was it because you were sorry for what you have said? Or was it because that his family was too embarrassing for you to even mention?

It had been 8 years after the war now. Today, the old Hogwarts classmates decided to meet up again. It was nice seeing so many familiar faces, but Fred knew that there was just one person, who he might never see again.

The dinner party went well. People were catching up and remembering the good old days at Hogwarts. Everyone seemed to be doing well, having a steady job and even starting a family now.

Then people started talking about your book. Fred was suddenly on guard, as if he was ready to argue with or even fight anybody who was going to talk shit about you. But then he realized, what role was he playing in this whole situation anyway?

To Fred’s surprise, people were actually taking nicely about you. He was feeling almost gratified that people actually took the time to read your work. It was beautifully written after all.

“I always knew she wasn’t so bad,” said Luna, “I saw her protecting a student during the battle. Who was it though?”

Luna’s dreamy voice hit Fred hard like a bludger that he dropped his fork. 

The noise caught Luna’s attention and suddenly made her faded memory resurface, “I remembered! It was Fred! She saved Fred!”

Everyone was staring at Fred now. He laughed awkwardly and replied, “Guess Malfoy isn’t just another bad guy then.”

And Fred remained rather quiet for the rest of the night. He was quiet enough for everyone who knew Fred Weasley to be worried about him, but luckily, people probably just thought that he was shocked that a Malfoy saved his life.

But George knew, even though Fred has never told him. He knew all about his twin’s little adventures with you back in school. He knew about Fred’s worries after knowing that the Malfoy’s are death eaters. He knew his brother would secretly read your book. And he knew that you were on Fred’s mind, even after all these years.

------

After the war, you went back to Hogwarts to finish your last year of school. But besides going to classes, you would just hide in your dorm and you would even eat in the Slytherin kitchen instead of going to the Great Hall to avoid seeing anyone.

You couldn’t face the students who lost their families and friends during the war. Whenever they were looking at you, it felt like they were asking you to pay. And you just couldn’t face the Weasleys. After what you’ve done and said, how could you? Those words kept replaying in your head and you already lost counts on how many nights you’ve lost sleep on that matter. 

After you’ve finally finished your seven years of education, you moved to a quiet countryside. You decided that instead of trying to forget, you should learn how to face and live with those memories and that’s why you started to write them down. At first, you could only write some harmless stories from the first or second year at Hogwarts. Then when you got used to pouring your heart out through writing, you started to write about memories about the war. 

But some memories you just couldn’t manage to write down, even though they were haunting you everyday. That was the memories about Fred Weasley. So you decided to not write about the Weasleys at all, pretending like you’ve never met any of them. If you never met him, then there won’t be losing him, right?

You knew that Fred was the only one who could let you be yourself, who could light that fire within you. But now you’ve lost him, you’ve lost that fire, and you’ve lost yourself. 

Fortunately, with the help of time, you were getting better. Especially when Scorpius was born, you felt like you suddenly saw a sense of vitality and liveliness in your life. You wanted to teach him how to love this world, even though you were still learning. You wanted to go on so many adventures with him, even though you were still not brave enough to step out yet.

You also finally decided to organize and publish your memoir. You were still nervous, but you thought you were finally ready to try. 

And this was already 7 years after the war. 

------

It has been 13 years after the war now. For some reasons, Fred was the only one in the family that hasn’t got married yet. He was still working in the Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes. Their little joke shop has already became the most popular joke shop in the entire European wizarding world with many branch stores. But Fred’s favorite was still the original one located at No.93 Diagon Alley.

It was a lovely Saturday afternoon today, so Fred decided to give himself a break and popped into the Leaky Cauldron.

But as soon as he stepped inside, the sight of a woman with platinum hair at the counter captured his attention. He knew too well who that was.

You turned around a little and Fred saw your face. You were still beautiful, he thought. But the pride and sharpness on your face, which he both loved and hated so much, ceased to exist.

Before Fred could even process his action, he approached you, “What are you looking for, Malfoy?” That was the first words you have ever said to him and he was really surprised that he still remembered that after all these years.

You were startled when you realized it was Fred, but you soon regained your calm. “Weasley,” you nodded at him, “I’m just...waiting for someone.”

He nodded, taking the seat next to you, “So how’s it going?”

“Not much,” you said lightly, “but you must've been busy, with the business going so well.”

“So you’ve been paying attention to me?” he smirked. 

“I don’t have to Fred, the huge figure of you in front of the joke shop is basically screaming for attention every time I stepped into Diagon Alley.” you laughed. Fred’s heart fluttered when he heard you calling his name. It has been too long, but it felt just like the first time.

“Look what I’ve found!” a little boy was screaming and running towards you. Fred couldn’t help but noticed the boy’s platinum hair and grey eyes that matched yours. The boy showed you the fake wand in his hand and you gently combed his hair with your fingers.

“Is that your boy?” Fred asked, feeling unreasonably nervous somehow. So many years have gone by, you were 31 now for Merlin’s sake. Why would he be surprised if you have already got married and had a son.

“Oh no, this is Scorpius, Draco’s son. I’m just here to pick him up for Draco. He’s busy today.”

Scorpius clearly has noticed the man who was talking to his aunt. Suddenly, he looked at Fred surprised with his eyes wide opened and shouted, “You’re the tall, red-headed man that auntie always talks about!”

Now it was Fred’s turn to look surprised. Then he smirked, “So you have talked about me? A lot?”

“Oh please, you’re not the only ‘tall, red-headed man’ in the world alright?” you laughed awkwardly.

“So it must be just another stupid Weasley, ay?” he asked, making use of those once haunting words.

“Yea that’s right! Weasley! Fred Weasley! That’s his name!” Suddenly Scorpius shouted, finally remembered what he was trying to remember this whole time, “You’re the owner of that joke shop! Are you coming up with new products, Mr. Weasley? Can I please take a look at them?”

Fred raised his eyebrows and looked at you without even needing to state his question.

“Oh Merlin, Draco must be waiting for us. We have to go now! Come on Scorpius!” Your cheeks were flushed and you tried to drag poor Scorpius with you as you ran for the exit.

But you heard Fred saying, “I’ve missed you Y/N. It might sound pathetic I know, but I think about you everyday. Merlin, everyday for the past decade! To this point, I’m pretty convinced that you’ve put a spell on me when you left.” 

You thought you could only hear him saying that in your wildest dreams. You turned around, tears were forming in your eyes. Fred was pretty sure that was the first time he has ever saw you cry.

“I’ve missed you too.”

(Part 2) Just Another Weasley

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Oh, The Lies You Tell - Bakugou Katsuki - pt. 6

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, trauma, abuse, betrayal, fluff, slice of life, smut, cursing, manipulation, possible spoilers, physical harm, 18+

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Ep. Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, touching n’ teasing,

Summary: it’s Saturday! Time for Y/N and Bakugou to head out on their official date. The end is what sets off the fireworks and where it all begins.

A/N: Still kinda short BUT the next part is where it gets juicy. So stay tuned.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

You awoke to another day. The sunlight was beaming through your window and the sweet scent of caramel invaded your senses. The warm atmosphere hugged you along with a very muscular arm. You looked to your side and saw Katsuki sleeping peacefully. You smiled at the sight of him.

Katsuki really was your dream. And he was definitely your hero. Even though you weren’t completely out of the dark, he gave you a break from it. The dark life you knew was locked away whenever Katsuki came into your line of vision. Just him being around had you gleaming. You knew what had to be done once the mission was over, and you would have to wake up from this dream. It was going to be short. You were gonna wake up soon, and so you reveled in every second of it. You pressed in closer to him as he began to stir awake.

“Mm...hey princess.” He said, hugging you closer. You giggled at his morning voice. It was so very gruff and deep but it had a soothing melody to it. It settled your nerves and had you in a peaceful state.

“G’moring Suki.” He finally opened his eyes to look at you. He smiled at your beautiful state and pecked your forehead. “So..you know what day it is today right?”

“Of course I know, ya brat. It’s Saturday. Time for our official date.” He smiled at the fact and was very excited for what was to come, but staying in bed with you all day cuddling sounded like euphoria.

“Exactly Suki! So let’s get up!” You said sitting up and tugging on his arm. He groaned as you left his side and pulled at him.

“Mmmm....Y/N why don’t we just stay here and cuddle for our date. Sounds great to me,” he smiled as he pulled you back down to his side.

“That sounds amazing but spending the day and doing stuff with my....” he opened his eyes and looked at you waiting for an answer. “Heh...uhm, you, sounds even better.”

Bakugou gave a small smile at your answer. He thought you were adorable. You guys didn’t have an established relationship but it was clear something was there. He felt something strong and he knew you did too. He had only known you for almost a month, but it was love at first sight for him.....he loved you.

“Ya know dumbass, staying in bed and cuddling all day means you would technically be doing stuff with me,”

“Katsuki.”

“*Sigh* Yeeeaaah, I know princess.” He sat up and stretched out. “We’ll go on that date.”

You released a squee and Bakugou just couldn’t stop smiling. Why were you so damn cute?

“C’mon, get ready and I’ll meet you in the common rooms. Then we can go. Okay?” Bakugou said.

“Mhm!” And with that Bakugou gave you a quick kiss that you happily returned and left to get ready. You got up, showered, got dressed and said goodbye to Rumor. You finally met with Bakugou in the common rooms.

“Ready to go Princess?” He said smiling.

“Definitely.” Bakugou was definitely a happier person with you around. He wasn’t as angry and wasn’t as aggressive as before. You bettered him. And you weren’t as upset and cold hearted anymore. He bettered you. You were so appreciative of him and how he’s done good for you, but you were feeling so guilty at the same time.

Bakugou was so good to you. He treated you with so much care and..love, and you tried doing the same but it was wrong for you to do it. You truly did love spending time with him and sharing these loving touches but you were basically leading him on. You could never truly be with him. You would eventually have to return to the league and that would break both you and him. But your head and your heart were at war, and so even though your head decided it was wrong for you to be with him, your heart went against it. Which lead you to this moment.

“I want you to officially be mine.”

The request made your eyes go wide. You and Bakugou were at the end of your date. He took you to a carnival, then brought you to a picnic at a park and then he took you to a secluded part in the forests where cherry blossoms bloomed. You both were resting on a cherry blossom tree on a hill as the golden sun painted the valley when he decided to pop the question.

“W-what?” You asked him. He smiled at you and released a laugh of nervousness.

“Y/N..I want you to be my girlfriend.” He looked at you with loving eyes as he spoke and held both your hands. You only stared at him in shock as your mouth opened and closed trying to find the right words.

“Katsuki...I-...look I-“

“Do you not want to be with me?” He questioned you with a scared tone. He was really nervous now and was kind of shaking. He still held a hopeful look on his face but you could see how his lip slightly trembled away from his smile.

However, the question saddened you. You finally settled your nerves before speaking and putting a hand on his cheek. You took note at how he leaned into your palm, and that made you smile.

“Suki..of course I want to be with you..I want to be your girlfriend.” Bakugou’s head arose from your hand and he smiled, his nerves settling and he stopped shaking. His grip on your hands got a little tighter due to him being so happy.

“But are you sure you want to be with me?”

“What?” He kinda laughed as he replied. Were you insane? You’re amazing! How could he not want to be with you. If anything, he should be asking you that question.

“Princess, what the hell are you talking about?” He asked.

“You barely know anything about me. Believe me, you know a lot more than anyone else, but there’s still a big part of me that you should know before deciding to-“

He cut off your rambling by quickly pulling you in and giving you a comforting kiss. The kiss was deep as you finally chose to fall into it, embracing his warm lips and sweet taste. You both finally separated to continue your talk as Bakugou placed his forehead to yours.

“I told you to tell me when you were ready. Don’t tell me at all for all I care, I just want to be with you.” He softly said.

“Suki..when you find out what it is you won’t want me anymo-“

“Would you stop saying that?! Nothing you could ever say or do could keep me away from you!” He stated.

“You don’t know that!”

“But I do! Y/N I love you!”

The world stilled at his confession. Katsuki Bakugou. UA’s resident hot head. The angry Pomeranian. Lord explosion murder. The guy who you loved also loved you. Pools of tears began to fill your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You were so happy. Love. Something you never thought you would ever be allowed to experience. In this moment, you didn’t care about your titles and sides or light and dark. In the moment, it didn’t matter if you were a villain and he a hero. It was just you and him. And...

“I-..I love you too Katsuki.” You confessed. You said it back. And it felt so right! You wanted to let the whole world know. You loved Katsuki Bakugou.

He smiled again and you both jumped back into a passionate kiss. He held you tighter than ever as you sat on his lap. Your hands went to wrap around his neck and pull him in deeper. The warmth of the sun danced across your bodies, the song of the soft breeze that carried the flowery scent wrapped you both in a refreshing hug. It was like something of a new start for the both of you. Where you both were in the clear. You both had an understanding. You are his and he is yours. Officially. The feeling had you floating off the ground.

When you both separated, you both shared a loving look. A smile grew on Bakugou’s face and you copied his action. The sweet comforting silence that was now so familiar to you both returned until you both spoke at the same time.

“I love you.”

You both shared a smile and a look of shock before you both released small laughs as you hugged each other. You both cuddled in the sunlight and settled for staying there for a little more before returning to the dorms.

The feeling felt so right. Even though on your end it was so wrong, the way he hugged you, kissed you, embraced you, and loved you proved otherwise.

——————————————————————————

The week continued and 1-A rejoiced around the happy couple. The Bakusquad was physicked for their angry friend, thanking whatever entity that he found someone to tame the demon inside. The couple became the iconic duo of the school. Both incredibly good looking, incredibly powerful, incredibly talented, and all and all, incredible.

Class 1-A relaxed in the common room on a Friday, excited for what was to come on Monday.

“Can you believe the battle competition is coming so soon?!” Mina said.

“I know right! I think it’s clear 1-A will be winning and kicking ass. Especially with Y/N around.” Sero said.

“Well we can’t always be sure. A lot of other schools have really good fighters.” Kirishima said. “Like that one windy guy from Shiketsu who went against Todoroki.”

“Inasa Yoarashi.” Todoroki corrected.

“Quit worrying you idiots. We’ve got some powerhouses of our own in this lame ass class.” Bakugou said as he relaxed and layed on the couch, taking up the whole space for himself.

“Is that a compliment?” Todoroki asked.

“I’m talking about me and Y/N, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou clarified.

“Figures,” Kaminari laughed out.

“Somebody say my name?” Y/N said as she walked into the common rooms with Rumor.

“Hey babe,” he said opening his eyes to look at you. You smiled and leaned down to his resting head on the couch to give him a quick peck. Bakugou sat up so you could sit on his lap.

“And here she is, class 1-A’s resident pretty girl model with her boyfriend, class 1-A’s hot head.” Kaminari joked.

“Put a sock in it, Sparky.” Bakugou said while glaring at the boy. How dare he compliment his girl.

The group laughed until Midoriya walked in.

“I can’t wait for the competition!” He brought up the battle competition again. Everyone grew excited and continued the conversation but your head just got lost and strayed away in thought.

Flashback

“JUST TELL ME THE NEW DATE!” Shigaraki screamed into the earring.

“I- I mean are we even sure we wanna go through with this?!” You nervously laughed out, trying to convince the league to drop the whole attack.

“TITANIA! YOU ARE A VILLAIN WITH THE LEAGUE! YOU ARE MY SUBORDINATE AND YOU WILL DO AS I SAY OR ELSE THEY’LL BE HELL TO PAY!! HOW DARE YOU TRY AND REFUSE ME!” He screamed

“I’m sorry!” You replied with tears down your face and a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs.

“Y/N! ...Have you gone soft?!” Shigaraki questioned.

“N-No! No sir! I swear!” You tried to convince him.

“You better have not. Now tell me the new date. NOW!” You flinched at his screaming and finally gave in.

“This coming Monday! We’re leaving at 9:00 a.m.” you said.

“You’ll send me the coordinates when you’re there. Understand?” He asked.

“.........yes.”

“Good girl. Oh, and Y/N?” He questioned.

“Yes sir?”

“Don’t let those little heroes get to your head. You’re rotten to the core. Don’t forget it.”

Present Time

“Princess.....Princess!.....Y/N!” Bakugou said as he finally shook you out of your daydream.

“Huh? I’m sorry,” you said apologizing for dazing off.

“You okay? You got really quiet,” Bakugou asked you with concern. He held you tight as you sat in his lap trying to shake your mind of the memory.

“I’m..I’m okay. I promise.” You reassured him.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You smiled at his care and pecked his cheek.

“I’m okay, love. Swear.” You said.

“Okay,” he said and cuddled into your neck. The class awed at the cute couple and Bakugou glared them off before returning to cuddles.

You were thankful for his care but worried of what was to come. Soon, bloodshed and violence would tear through and you would partially be responsible for it. It made you ache inside but you put up a strong facade.

The class continued their talks before opting to head to bed. Once inside your dorm and you and Katsuki were in bed, he brought up a conversation topic.

“What was up with you earlier princess? You seemed kind of out of it.” He asked as you were both face to face in bed.

“Nothing to worry about Suki. My mind just drifts off when I get bored of a topic.” You explained.

“Makes sense. It was that damn nerd talking after all so I don’t blame you.” He said while bringing you into his chest to cuddle.

“Heh..yeah.” Your mind wandered off as silence came over the room. Both you and him were tired after your day and so sleep was very much needed. However, there was a topic on your mind that you couldn’t seem to shake ever since you guys started officially dating.

“Umm...Suki?” You spoke up.

“Yea Princess?” He asked with shut eyes.

“...You...You know I’m not like these other girls..right?” You said with your head buried in his chest, avoiding his concerned look.

“What do you mean?” He asked with worry laced in his voice.

“I-....I’m not as great as them. I’m not an innocent good girl or a pretty pink princess,” you paused as you thought very carefully about your next words, “I’m a delinquent. A rebellious bad girl who used to be in and out of jail as a child. I’m...me.”

“I know you’re you, and I thank every god for that.” Bakugou began. You gave him a look of confusion and hope as he continued. “Yeah, you used to be a delinquent and you used to commit crimes, with good reasons, and you used to...well you’re still a little rebel to be honest,” he laughed out.

“Hey,” you giggled and smacked his bare chest.

“But...those are some things I love about you.” He admitted. You looked at him in confusion once more before you spoke.

“Explain.” He sighed in embarrassment before speaking.

“You were a delinquent. A criminal. A little devil. A bad girl. A rebel..well you still are-“

“Why don’t you just take a gun and shoot my self esteem while you’re at it,” you sarcastically said.

“Sorry,” he began, “but really, those parts of you are what made you who you are today. Not only that, but because of your bad girl past, it does well for me. Growing up, I was always a straightforward kid with a passion for being a hero. Meaning, I was pretty strict with myself on rules, meaning I didn’t really get to have fun as a kid or do the bad things that kids usually do.” He explained but it was clear you were still confused.

“Y/N, you fucking dumbass, what I’m trying to say is that you bring out a me I never got to enjoy. Your rebellious self encouraged me to have fun and explore and be a normal teen. And no offense or anything, but you do go off the rails time to time, so I’m glad you have me to keep you out of trouble. I just really feel like we were made for each other, Princess,” he said and brought your hand up to give it a kiss.

“I don’t care if you’re not a pretty pink princess because you’re a rebellious red queen. I don’t care if you’re not an innocent good girl because you’re a mischievous badass. And I know you’re not as great as those other girls.....you’re better and you’re the best.” His words almost brought you to tears and you swore you would’ve started bawling if it wasn’t for the fact that he kissed away the first tear drop that fell.

“Thank you Katsuki.....I really needed to hear that.” You said smiling and hugging him.

“I’ll always be here for you Princess. Don’t forget it.” He said and pecked you’re forehead. “Now get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah..okay.”

——————————————————————————

Time skip! You and Katsuki have now been together for a short amount of time, but the amount of time you have spent together even before you were dating just holds so much chemistry. You guys feel like you’ve known each other for years. A very cute couple indeed.

Now it was a Monday morning and the class was just waiting for the bus to arrive to take them to the competition. Aizawa let you guys just roam the classroom as he napped in his bag.

You were hanging with the Bakusquad in a little corner enjoying the laughs and yourselves. You were trying to distract yourself from the inevitable. Soon, once you’ve arrived at the location, you would have to send the league your coordinates so they could arrive and launch the first attack. Safe to say it was making you nervous, but luckily for you, you had an angry Pomeranian to calm your nerves. And he didn’t even have to try, all he had to do was just be there.

“Hey princess,” Bakugou said once the squad walked away.

“Yeah Suki?” You asked.

“Remember how last night I said you encourage me to explore and adventure more?” He said with his hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere else but at you.

“Yeaaahhhh? Why?” You again, asked.

“Wellllll,” he began finally looking at you with a smirk and taking his hand out to pull you in closer by the waist, “I was wondering if my amazing, adventurous, hot as fuck, rebellious-“

“Get to it Suki,” you said with a slight chuckle. Bakugou just smirked some more and pulled you into his chest and whispered into your ear.

“I want my little bad girl to help me explore and enjoy my first time,” Bakugou said. His hot breath warmed your skin and he began to pepper your neck in soft kisses. You bit your lip before pushing him back just enough for eye contact.

“You wanna fuck?” You said with a giggle.

“As long as it’s with you, yes.” He confidently said. You continued to slightly laugh at his little needs. Now you were no virgin. Growing up the bad girl and villain you were, you had your fair share of one night stands. You definitely had experience and could definitely show Katsuki a real good time for his first time but right now was not the time for his shenanigans.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as his other hand went to your waist. You whispered into his ear as you spoke with a seductive voice.

“I’d be more than happy to show you a good time, love,” and once you said that, his hands went to grip at your ass causing you to quietly moan into his ear. The sound made him bite his lip as he looked down at your perfect peach. Oh how he wanted to hear more, however, you had other plans.

“But this is not the time for your horny desires, Suki.” You said as you quickly pulled yourself away from him, leaving him hanging. You laughed at his little whine that he released once he lost contact but just sat yourself on the desk across from him and faced him.

“Why not?” He whined out.

“Gee, for a virgin you sure are desperate,” you said giving off a very confident and cool vibe.

“Well yeah, how can I not be when I have the hottest and best girlfriend in the world?” You blushed at his words and he grinned noticing he got you to break your calm, collected, and “oh so cool” cover. You noticed the bus pulling in from the view you had from the window and knew what was coming.

An idea came to you and you looked around noticing most students left to walk out to the bus. The both of you were basically the only two left in the room. You walked to Katsuki as he sat in his seat and got real close in his face and began to flirtatiously speak.

“Suki..I’d be more than happy to have you fuck me right in your dorm room,” you said and took a seat on his lap, your sensitive area pressed against his own. You went up to his ear once more and began to whisper. “I really want you to do me rough and have me screaming your name all night.”

You began to grind into him, causing him to shutter in his seat and groan at the contact. Your dirty words coated in your sexy voice already sent a rush through him and now his hands returned to your ass as he squeezed it once more.

“Just imagine how nice my tight little cunt would feel wrapped around your big cock,” you said as your hand traveled to down his chest and to his clothed dick. You began to palm him through pants as his breath became heavy. “And I promise I’ll suck your dick real good as a reward when we’re done.”

He looked up at you and slowly leaned in for a kiss. Your free hand went up to the side of his face and pretended to fall into the kiss.

“However,” you stopped all your movements right before the bus honked its horn for any remaining students and got up from his lap, “all of that will have to wait until the end of this trip. Okay love?”

Bakugou only growled at you with a blush and frustrated look on his face. You looked down and chuckled at the little tent in his pants.

“Don’t let the others see your friend now Suki. That’s reserved for my eyes only,” you said as you pointed towards his boner.

“Hurry up and let’s get on the bus.” You said and then pecked his lips before leaving him in the room alone, exiting with a confident walk that Katsuki swore had more hip sway than usual.

Yeaahhhh, Katsuki was definitely a great distraction.

—

On the bus, Katsuki could not and would not keep his hands to himself. You were both seated next to each other in the back of the bus, and the two seated next to them, Sero and Todoroki, were asleep. Rumor also slept in the middle of the aisle. This gave Katsuki every perfect chance to feel up on his princess.

“K-Katsuki. Not here,” you said as his hands groped at your chest. Bakugou held a Cheshire grin on his face as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“C’mon princess, it’s only fair. You teased me so much already, I think it’s my turn for revenge,” he explained, “and look.”

You looked down to see that his hard on was still there. “You’re the reason I’m like this, don’t you think it’s fair that you are the one to fix it?” He asked.

You sighed as you pulled his hands away from your chest as you spoke. “I think you can deal with it yourself.”

Bakugou sighed in desperation. He looked around and saw everyone was tired, dazed, and either sleeping or too busy talking to take notice of what was going on in the back. Due to this, he grabbed your hand and placed it on his groin. He made you rub his boner, causing him to let out soft moans into your ear.

“Well then if you’re not gonna help me, the least you could do is settle my excitement.” You looked towards him then looked towards your hands. You weren’t gonna lie, this did rile you up a little bit, but you guys were in a school bus for goodness sake, y’all can’t fuck right here.

You looked up to face him as you rubbed him on a little better, earning breathy groans from him. You smirked as you allowed your free hand to pull his face in for a hot kiss. Your tongues tasted and explored each other, and you just felt Bakugou grow bigger. You finally separated and made a deal with him.

“Listen Suki, the next time we get close to a bed, then I’ll let you have your way with me,” you smirked as you spoke with a seductive voice. “You can use me, play with me, toy with me, and do me in whatever way you want, but only and only when we get near some bedding. Understand?”

Bakugou paused all movements as he thought about it. He growled in horny frustration as he settled for your deal. You pecked his cheek in appreciation for his cooperation and he calmed himself after that.

“Fineee princess. You win. We can wait till we get to a bed. But once we do, I get to ravish you.” He said with a confident grin.

“Yes sir,” you said mimicking his grin. You both fell back into a little makeout session to compromise for now. Once done, you placed your head on his shoulder as he dropped his head on yours. You both rested for the rest of the trip. Looking out the window, you noticed how the sky fell into a beautiful twilight with gold dusting it’s horizon.

It was calming. It made you feel at piece but of course the one thought in the back of your mind kept you on edge.

‘I’m on a mission. For the league. And I got sidetracked by an angry Pomeranian.....this is so wrong.’ You looked up towards Bakugou in adoration. He was everything you ever needed to feel complete. ‘I’m sorry Suki. I won’t blame you when you leave. But just let me enjoy this for now.’

You finally drifted into slumber with the warmth of Katsuki surrounding you. You could feel the dripping love he had for you, and it made you smile.

‘Yea. Let me just enjoy this.’