#Kind of a mix between curling smoke and cupping leaves | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fific7 · 3 years ago

Text

Evil Twins - Part 1

Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

New York City

Billy Russo awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed and grabbing for his Glock. What the hell? Thunder was rumbling loudly overhead and he sighed, putting the gun back under his pillow and laying his head back down. It was probably the bright flash of the lightning followed by the beginning of the thunderclap that had awakened him.

He was just closing his eyes again when he spotted something, only vaguely visible in the dim light from outside, in the corner of his room. It was…. swirling?

Grabbing his gun again, he sat up and pointed the Glock at the corner. It was getting bigger. “You’ve got two seconds to show yourself before I blow your fucking head off,” he announced, calmly.

He squinted a bit to get a better look but it didn’t make much difference. What the fuck was it?! Smoke? He decided he had no choice and leant over, switching on the wall-mounted bedside light.

The… smoke cloud?… was still increasing, becoming bigger and blacker with every second. Then he saw the vaguest silhouette of a tall figure within it, moving towards him. He leapt out of bed, on the far side of it so it was between him and whatever the fuck this was.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Aleksander Morozova - or General Kirigan, the Darkling, the Black Heretic, the Starless Saint, whichever of his many names he decided to call himself at any given point in time - could see a tall figure brandishing some kind of strange gun at him as he began to emerge from the swirling shadows.

Following certain unfortunate incidents - including a huge and furious argument with his darling mother - he’d decided it would be politic to get out of Ravka for a while, much as he didn’t really want to. But this wasn’t where he should’ve ended up. What was this place?

He emerged completely from the shadows and immediately felt something bounce off his kefta. He heard a ‘ding’ and looked down at the wooden floor at his feet. A bullet.

Looking quickly back up, he saw that the man opposite him was glaring at him, eyes wide and unbelieving, gun still pointing at him. He also realised that looking at this man was like looking in a mirror.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was dumbfounded. He’d just shot the fucker! And the bullet had bounced off him. Fuck. He threw the gun down onto the bed and slid his hand under his other pillow, pulling out his Ka-Bar. No way he’d get past that.

He took a moment to have a good look at the dude opposite him.

Dressed in riding boots and some kinda long black tunic thing, with a black fur-collared full-length cape over it. What a freak! Was he a goth or something? But then he realised something even freakier…. this guy looked exactly like him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The two of them were still contemplating each other, when finally Billy spoke. “Who are you? And what are you?”

Aleksander laughed. “Usually it’s me asking those questions.” Billy huffed, “You’re in my fuckin’ apartment, so just answer them!” He saw the guy draw himself up, and he said, “I am Aleksander Morozova, also known as General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army of the Grisha.”

“Means fuck all to me,” grunted Billy. “One name not enough for you? And why do you look like me? Are you some kinda shapeshifter or somethin’?”

“I have many names because I am centuries old. And I don’t know what a… shapeshifter?…is,” said the other, “…but I am the Shadow Summoner. And who are you? Where is this?” he waved a hand round at the apartment.

Billy scoffed, “Centuries old?!! Oh fuck off. You’re the same age as me by the looks of ya! I’m Billy Russo, ex-US Marine Lieutenant and now CEO of Anvil. That’s a security company, mainly staffed by ex-military vets. And this….” he also waved his hand around, “…is my penthouse apartment in New York City.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I have never heard of that place.”

Billy eye-rolled, “How can you not have heard of New York?!” he asked, incredulously. “And what the fuck is a Shadow Summoner?”

“It’s becoming obvious we are from two different worlds. I seem to have been diverted from my intended course, I don’t know why,” shrugged Aleksander. “Well maybe it’s time you took off to wherever it is you were headed for in the first place,” said Billy.

“It seems that I have been brought here for some specific reason,” replied Aleksander, “and it also seems I cannot leave for the moment, I have already tried.” He waved both hands around, firstly extending and then curling up his fingers, watching them closely as he did but it was clear that nothing at all was happening. “You see? Nothing. It is worrying to me. My shadows are no longer obeying my commands at present.”

Billy sighed and perched on the edge of his bed, “Great! Just fuckin’ great! This is just…! So when can you leave?” The other man spread out his arms, “I have no idea.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

Way across the Atlantic, you were already hard at work in your little bookstore in Appledore, Devon. You had a snug apartment above the store and had filled it with lots of your favourite things. It was a cute little coastal town and you loved living there. The community was small and friendly especially in the winter months, only increasing in summer with all the tourists who came to stay. As long as you made a decent living during the holiday season - which you normally did - then winter was a much calmer, chilled time of year.

You added a final book to the new display in the centre of your store and stepped back to take in how it was looking. Yeah, not bad if you did say so yourself. It was comprised of a fantasy trilogy for young adults about some ancient guy who could summon up shadows, and was a bit of a villain from what you could tell from the story synopsis on the book covers.

Not your cup of tea, to be honest. Generally speaking, all types of action stories were more your thing - something with a bit of ‘va-va-voom’. In fact, you were looking forward to tonight when you’d decided you were going to sit down with a nice tub of ice cream and rewatch one of your favourite series. The one with a relentless avenging ex-Marine whose family had been killed and his psycho ex-Marines buddy. Who happened to be rather hot to your mind.

You sighed a little, heading back behind the counter. That was the only thing about Appledore. It was a lovely place, but there was a distinct lack of hot guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Billy and Aleksander were sitting on separate sofas in Billy’s living area, eyeing each other warily. Aleksander had been trying to explain to Billy all about his world, the Grisha, the Fold, volcras, Ravka, the Sun Summoner, sand skiffs - as much as he could.

It had blown Billy’s mind, to be honest. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In turn, he’d explained all about his military career and the shitshow which had eventually developed once he’d come back to New York. Aleksander looked as equally confused as Billy.

Billy sighed, “I mean, what the hell are you gonna do? You don’t belong here. I need to go to work in a couple of hours. I’m not leaving you here so I’d need to take you to Anvil with me, and you sure as hell can’t go out looking like that.”

Aleksander looked down at his kefta which he’d unbuttoned. His cape was draped over the back of the sofa. “What is wrong with the way I look?” he huffed. “S’pose I could always say you were going to a Comic Con,” muttered Billy. “A what?” “A Comic Con. it’s where fans of fantasy comics go to have fun. They dress up as their favourite characters sometimes. I could always say it was cosplay.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’d look out of place in my uniform? All the Grisha wear these,” he pointed at his kefta. “Not what we wear here,” said Billy, “…and I still don’t get why you look so much like me.”

“I have no idea!” said Aleksander, through gritted teeth, “I told you that already!” “Alright, alright! Calm down.” “I AM CALM!!!” roared the other man.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Slightly later that morning, Billy was showered, suited and booted and ready for work. He’d persuaded his uninvited visitor to put on a borrowed leather jacket of Billy’s over his kefta as Aleksander refused to take it off. He’d also made him put on a pair of black trainers, which he’d done very reluctantly. These two items had instantly transformed the freaky-looking guy into someone at least a little more acceptable to your average New Yorker.

Aleksander was wriggling around in the jacket, “It’s not very comfortable.” Billy heaved yet another large sigh - he felt like this was all he’d been doing this morning - “Look, just wear it! You’ll get used to it.” He noticed the other guy sniffing at the collar of the jacket, then his eyes lifted to Billy’s, “You wear perfume?!” “Men’s cologne,” snapped Billy, “or aftershave, as it’s also known because - guess what! - you use it after you’ve shaved!”

His fingers stroking his chin, Aleksander nodded, “Okay, that I understand. We do not use this perfume in Ravka.” “Cologne!” yelled Billy. “Fine, cologne then. Why don’t you like it when I call it perfume? That’s what it is, after all.” “Women wear perfume. Men wear cologne. Okay? Now c’mon, I’m gonna be late.”

Billy strode over to his front door and tried to open it. The handle wouldn’t budge. He shook it, rattled it, pulled the door handle back and forward, exerting more and more strength but nothing worked. He stood back from the door. “It won’t open,” he said, rather unnecessarily. He looked at Aleksander, “Is this you? Or something to do with you?” “No!” he protested, “I have nothing to do with this.”

A somewhat raspy female voice spoke from behind them, “No, but I do.”

The two men swung round, both gaping as they saw that there were what could only be described as rippling waves distorting the whole interior of Billy’s flat. The light had also diminished quite drastically and then they both saw a woman’s head and shoulders start to become defined and then fully visible in amongst the ripples. She seemed to float there at head height but she obviously wasn’t physically present.

“Mother!” exclaimed Aleksander.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

You snuggled down amongst the soft cushions on your sofa, tub of ice cream and spoon in hand and scrolled to the series you were looking for. It was quite gory in places but you loved it - except for the bit right at the end where the hot dude got killed. That made you sad although you couldn’t deny he definitely had psychopathic tendencies.

As you were looking for the one you wanted to watch, another series caught your eye in the ‘Suggested for You’ section. Hey, it must be based on that trilogy of books you had in the store right now. Maybe you’d give it a try after you’d finished your current one.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

“Mother?” echoed Billy, “….what’s going on here?!”

The woman’s head swivelled towards him then back to Aleksander. “My two boys, together again. How sweet.”

“What!?” said the two men in tandem. She gave a bitter laugh, “How I managed to produce two such problematic children, I’ll never know.” “What are you talking about, Baghra?” ground out Aleksander. Billy was just standing there, dumbfounded and looking between the two of them when suddenly her glare focussed in on him.

“Maxim.” Billy returned her stare, “I’m Billy!” he corrected her. She shook her head, “You will forever be Maxim to me. And as I’m your mother, do not argue with me. Now…. no doubt Aleksander has been making a great fuss about how he’s many centuries old, has he?” “He did mention it,” said Billy, begrudgingly. She nodded, “I thought he might have. Listen to me, both of you. You are twins, so obviously you were born within minutes of each other. To me.” The two men exchanged glances, before looking back at her. “It became obvious to me that Aleksander - from a relatively early age - was going to cause himself and everyone around him nothing but trouble and strife, so I took a radical step.” “What did you do, Baghra?” questioned Aleksander.

“If you’d have patience, I’m trying to tell you!” she snapped, before continuing, “I got one of the few Heartrenders in existence at that time to take Maxim out of Ravka to a secret location. There, he placed him in long-term suspended animation. When you…” she pointed an accusatory finger at Aleksander, “….started all that nonsense with the Sun Summoner and hunting for the stag, I travelled with another Heartrender to where Maxim was, and brought him out of his enforced hibernation. I had to protect him as there was no guarantee you’d survive, Aleksander.” She stared at his scowling face and carried on speaking.

“He had no memories remaining of his past life and so I took him into the forest, there is a portal there which only I know of. There used to be more knew about it but I am the only one left now. Other universes can be reached through it. And I decided to send Maxim to another one. This one. It was only three months ago in Ravkan time, but in this universe more than thirty years have passed.”

“Wait… what?!” Billy was pissed. “You… you just threw me into some portal and walked away? Not knowing where I would end up?” “I had to save one of my sons!” she spat out, “…the other one had lost his mind and was on a collision course with disaster!” Billy put his head in his hands, before looking up again and raging at her, “I was abandoned for a second time by the woman I thought was my mother in this universe! She was a drug user, a total mess! I was placed in an orphanage… it was terrible!” He saw a remorseful look pass over her face for a split second, “I am sorry, Maxim! But I had no choice. Then I had to step in again when he…” pointing again at Aleksander, “….was nearly killed by volcras. I managed to get him to the portal before he fully regained consciousness. He thinks it was his idea to leave Ravka after we had an argument, but I managed to plant that idea in his mind before I pushed him into the portal.”

Billy and Aleksander both snorted in unison, then glanced at each other again. Billy looked back at her, “You’re sorry? That doesn’t quite cover it. I went to war! And now I’m in a very bad situation due to things which went down in Afghanistan during that war.” Aleksander chipped in, “And how dare you make a decision like sending me to another universe without consulting me first?”

The sigh Baghra gave echoed round the apartment. “You are a pair of ungrateful whelps! And now it sounds like I have to get you of trouble too!” She pointed at Billy this time. “I firstly had to find some very old documents about it, but I managed to find out how to enter the limbo section of the portal, which this is, because I wished to speak to both of you before I sent you on your next journey.” She lifted her hands and swirled them around in a kind of ritualistic fashion, “Be on your way to the next universe!” she chanted, and suddenly the rippling got even more pronounced.

Billy and Aleksander began feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, feeling as if they were falling but in fact realised they seemed to be rushing through time and space.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

It was Saturday tomorrow so because you could sleep in a bit as you opened later, you finished the first series (but not the second one - it always upset you) of the one you’d originally been watching, and had then moved on to the one based on the trilogy.

You peered more closely at your TV screen - yeah! you were right, the hot bad guy looked so similar to the hot bad dude in the other series they could be twins! Was it the same actor? You’d need to check on the credits but it must be, surely.

No reflection on the series you were watching, but having finished your ice cream you dozed off during episode 6.

You woke up - you had no idea how much later - and as you sat up slightly, realised that you were feeling very strange. Standing up from the sofa, you were so dizzy that you collapsed back down onto it. You tried not to panic, but you’d no clue as to why you felt so unwell all of a sudden.

Then you noticed that your apartment appeared to be rippling. Rippling??!! What the…. The rippling waves began to die down a little and you were suddenly aware of two looming figures standing over you. Their outlines and features slowly became more defined, more solid, and eventually you realised you were looking up at both the hot bad dudes from the TV.

Of course you were.

Okay, your reeling mind said to you, maybe the celestial Powers That Be had been listening when you were complaining about the lack of hot guys in your town.

They were both looking down at you, clear interest in their eyes. Maybe because you were wearing silky shorts with matching tank T. Your sleepwear didn’t leave too much to the imagination.

So you stared at them, and they stared right back at you, although again you were acutely aware of two sets of very dark eyes roaming all over your body.

You wondered if someone had spiked your ice cream.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone #general kirigan #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling imagine #the darkling fanfic

247 notes · View notes

kythed · 4 years ago

Text

what love tastes like

terushima yuuji x reader

synopsis: in which you learn that falling in love tastes like monster

“Taste,” he says. He holds the cold rim of a freshly opened can to your lips, and first it’s metallic, salty, but then it’s sweet.

You take a sip.

“So you’re telling me you’ve never tried Monster before?” he asks, taking a drink himself. The two of you are sitting on a park bench across the street from a gas station. He licks his lips-- the silver ball embedded in his tongue winks at you, a shallow token of youthful rebellion that somehow seems more significant on him.

“Never. I’m more of a Dr. Pepper girl.” You reach for the can again, letting the saccharine liquid sloshing inside coat your tongue. It’s really too much for me, you think. But of course, you won’t tell him that.

“Not anymore,” he says, and he slips a firm hand around the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and daring you to look away with a wicked grin-- it’s attractive, to say the least. “Now you’re my girl.”

You’ve barely parted your lips to respond before his mouth is on yours, tongue halfway down your throat, and you’re whimpering into the kiss as he snakes a hand down your back and presses your body to his. The whole ordeal tastes like Monster and feels far more energizing than the packaging promises.

Within your first day of meeting him, Terushima Yuuji has already claimed you as his own.

And you’re okay with it.

He’s about as healthy for you as the Monster is-- which is to say, not at all.

In your next couple months of dating him, this becomes apparent. He takes you to the edge of the woods at twilight and lights your first cigarette, laughing as you take a draw and end up coughing. Plucking it from your fingers, he holds the cig high as smoke curls into the hazy sky and eventually melds with the faintly orange cumuli. “Guess it’ll take a little practice before you can smoke with the big dogs, huh?”

You flush and snatch it back, determined to prove your aptitude for defiance. By the end of the night, you can blow smoke rings-- he applauds, and for some odd reason your heart swells at his lazy grin.

(The next kiss tastes like tobacco and novelty.)

He shows you each of his tattoos, some of which peek out from underneath his clothes, some of which aren’t exactly visible to the onlooker’s eye. There’s a tendril of ivy climbing down his forearm, a flock of wild cranes taking flight from his left shoulder. A dark silhouette is on his chest, kneeling low to who knows what. You trace the image of an unlit candle on the back of his neck, asking what it means-- for a millisecond, his mouth tightens into an expressionless line, but then he laughs. “Why, you want one too? Let’s go to the parlor then.”

When you decline, he takes a permanent marker from his bedside table and prints a small label on your inner wrist. ‘Mine’ it says, accompanied by an oddly appropriate smiley face. “Then this will have to do.”

(This kiss tastes like ink and enigma.)

He brings you to a decrepit manor on the outskirts of town-- legend has it a young, newly wealthy couple purchased it twenty years ago, unaware its foundations rested on a centuries old cemetery. The spiteful spirits drove them to the brink of madness. The sort of madness that could only be alleviated by the resounding finality of death.

“They were found hanging from their bedsheets in the west wing,” Yuuji whispers to you, his breath tickling your ear. An unwanted tremor runs from your head to your high-tops. You don’t believe in ghosts, so it must be because you’re cold. (At least, that’s what you tell yourself.) “I want that kind of love.”

You turn, surprised to see his expression remains entirely serious. “The kind where you die for one another?”

“The kind where you die with one another,” he corrects, wistfully gazing into the dingy bay windows protruding from the manor’s anterior.

You remain silent.

“Life is just an accumulation of bad decisions, and love is just an accumulation of bad decisions you make with another person,” he muses, still peering at the grandeur of the lonely estate. He turns to you, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Wanna make a bad decision with me?”

The next hour is spent in the modest company of Yuuji, a couple of baseball bats, and the empty halls of a long dead house. There’s no one to witness the two of you shattering each dusty antique vase save for the portraits on the wall. Soon, their frames, too, receive a violent visit from a vindictive bat, usually accompanied by Yuuji’s unadulterated glee and a resounding whoop.

You’re not a fan of destruction. Especially not the destruction of rare, precious items reminiscent of a life bygone. Yet, it’s exhilarating to indulge in it, to swing your bat with a meaningless vengeance and watch as whatever priceless heirloom that evoked your baseless wrath fractures into pieces. You demolish a set of fine china found in the dining room cabinet and Yuuji gathers you into his arms, kissing you fiercely (it tastes like some sort of perverse, seductive joy, rosewater mixed with ashes). He chuckles into your mouth when you push your tongue into his, retribution for your first kiss many weeks ago. It’s deliciously gratifying.

If Yuuji is right, and love is just a mosaic of bad decisions and desire-- maybe you’re okay with that. Maybe this is all I really need, you think, watching Yuuji from the corner of your eye on the drive home. Yellow street lights cast irregular shadows on his angular features, lending him an otherworldly sort of beauty.

“What is it?” he asks, without taking his eyes off the road. One of his hands inches up your inner thigh, giving it a quick squeeze before retreating to the responsibility of the steering wheel.

You hesitate, just for a second. An unseen force constricts around your throat; you banish it with a hard swallow. “I love you.”

One second passes. Then two.

He says nothing the rest of the ride home, and you sit in mortified silence, watching traffic blur by with glassy eyes. You must’ve misread this whole thing. You’re just a fling Yuuji plans on discarding whenever he grows tired… your mouth goes dry with regret.

When you pull up in front of your house, he walks you to your front door. You can hardly stand to look him in the eye.

“Well, thanks for today,” you say, examining your shoelaces with false interest. “I had a lot of--”

“I love you, too.”

Startled, you look up. “I- what?”

“I said,” he says, stepping close, putting a hand beneath your chin to tilt it upwards. Your body is eclipsed by his larger one, and you’re overwhelmed with the sudden urge to hide from his penetrating gaze. “I love you, too.”

A beat of silence.

“Oh,” you breathe, and, suddenly, his lips are on yours, kissing you fervently— but this time, it’s chaste, it’s… loving (and it tastes like honeyed laughter). Only for a second though.

Then his hands are on your waist, fingers gripping hard enough to leave bruises; he’s aflame with a hotblooded passion-- your body is his Holy Grail and your mouth is its rim. He leads you into the hallway, fumbling to close the door behind him. You gasp when he pushes you up against the wall and harshly sucks at the sensitive skin beneath your jaw, your nails digging into his back through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles, painting your neck with a line of ardent kisses, trailing from right below your ear to right above your collarbone. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

There’s something a little too tender in the way he caresses your face the next morning to wake you after he’s slipped his clothes back on, in the way he smiles softly at your bleary eyed confusion, in the way he holds you in his embrace a fraction of a second longer than you hold him in yours before saying goodbye.

Terushima Yuuji may play the part of a reckless delinquent, but he’s not your average troublemaker. There’s something inscrutable behind his gaze, even as he sprays obscene graffiti on stop signs and shoplifts alcohol from the neighborhood drugstore, a walking cliche of hoodlum culture.

There’s something a little too careful about the boy who claims to be careless.

Yuuji is still fun, of course. He takes immense pride in being fun. He invites you to one of his friends’ gigs, some sort of grunge-esque affair with a heavily pulsating bass line and a preponderance of cheap liquor in red plastic cups. The drummer winks at you during one of the songs-- later Yuuji slugs him in the jaw, taking a few hits in the process, and makes a show of kissing you sloppily while the poor drummer nurses his rapidly forming bruise with a pack of frozen peas. (The kiss, of course, tastes like blood and pride.)

He teaches you how to use a switchblade-- “Just in case,” he says, wrapping his hand around yours in an effort to show you the proper grip. In exactly what situation you’d be forced to use a switchblade remains unclear, but when you ask he just laughs and shrugs, spinning the knife in between his slender fingers. “You never know.”

(He tells you a story of a fist fight years ago and lifts his shirt to point out a pale, faded scar-- the other guy brought a knife concealed in his sleeve. You then agree it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.)

The two of you trespass on the regular, scaling fences and picking locks to dip your feet in private pools, to run barefoot on the soft grass of a golf course late at night, to explore taped off tunnels and underpasses.

All of it is fun, all of it depicts your relationship as something accidental, something reckless, the convergence of two beings as coincidental as the convergence of the two cells that provoked the Big Bang.

But your intimate moments, the faintest imprints in between the lines, tell a different story. One onlookers don’t see.

They don’t see how Yuuji places a hand on the small of your back to guide you over a crosswalk, or how he pours a coffee and carefully blows on it before bringing it to you. They don’t see how he laughs when you laugh and smiles when you smile.

They don’t hear what he whispers to you under the sheets-- sweet nothings that would make Cupid himself blush-- as he touches you slowly, purposefully, following your curves deliberately as a sculptor molding clay.

They don’t feel his kisses, delicately placed on your lips, your neck, your stomach and thighs. They don’t feel his eyelashes fluttering on your cheek as he allows himself to rest with you in his most vulnerable state.

It’s during these moments that deep secrets are so shyly exchanged in the sleepy haze of late nights and early mornings. He bares his soul to you in all its imperfection (you suspect you are the only one to have ever seen it in this state). He shatters himself bit by bit like the vases you splintered so long ago, offering you the fragments so you can gradually piece together the entire portrait.

“You know how I told you my dad taught me how to fight?” he asks one of these times. Your head is in his lap as he strokes your hair ever-so-lightly. You nod, looking up into those sweet brown eyes-- they look sad today. “That’s only half true. He didn’t teach me, but I had to learn because of him.”

You take his hand and brush your lips over his knuckles, humming softly, and he takes this small act of comfort and stores it away like he always does.

I’m sorry.

“I’m scared of trying to be someone different than I am now, but I want to be. I wish I could be.”

You can.

“I’m sorry for getting you into so much trouble these days.”

Don’t be.

“I think we should run away, just you and me. We could make it, you know.”

I know.

Of course, all good things come to an end. You know that.

You just aren’t anticipating something so good to end so soon-- as suddenly as Terushima Yuuji becomes yours, he disappears.

One morning, he’s sleeping in the bed next to you, and the next he’s gone without a trace. Literally. He leaves behind no extra t-shirts, no stray sock or phone charger, no note. You pad down the hall, ducking your head into each room.

“Yuuji?” you call. “Is this some sort of joke?”

It’s not.

You call his phone and reach his voicemail. Hey, this is Terushima. Not available right now, probably busy doing somethin’ stupid or taking a piss. Leave a message if you want.

The sound of his voice grows more and more painful to hear over the next six months. At first, you call every day, then every week, then every month. At month six, you’ve stopped calling at all. If he wanted to answer, he would. You don’t even know why you’ve kept it up so long when he obviously left for a reason.

So, you pick up the pieces of your broken heart and cobble them together again. It’s not a graceful recovery, but it’s a recovery, and that’s what matters. The gaping hole he left is gradually filled by your family, your friends-- you don’t go on a single date, but that’s okay. (You’re just not ready. You tell yourself that you will be, someday.)

Soon, you’re whole again. As you discover, there are ways to find yourself other than falling dangerously in love with a dangerous boy.

You run into him one day, eight or so months after his disappearance. You’re filling your car at a gas station, and at the park across the street, he’s sitting next to a girl you don’t recognize. She laughs at all his jokes and sips a can of Monster he offers her. As if he can feel your stare, Yuuji glances over and catches your eye. He jogs across the street, dodging traffic, and you two exchange tentative pleasantries before the conversation comes to an uneasy rest on the taboo-- why he left.

It wasn’t because of you, it turns out. At least, not really. You were just the catalyst.

“I was the problem,” Yuuji says, laughing, though the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You remember how I once told you I thought love was making your bad decisions with someone by your side?”

You nod, and the wound has scabbed over enough for you to remember it lightly, with a slight curve of the lips.

“You showed me that wasn’t true.” He tugs on the collar of his t-shirt absentmindedly, not quite meeting your gaze. “I started wanting to make good decisions instead. And that just wasn’t me. Love isn’t for me.”

“It could’ve been,” you say simply. He stares at you, momentarily unable to form a response. Then he laughs it off, a sound you used to adore that now sounds harsh and grating.

“Maybe someday,” he says, but his expression tells you otherwise. It tells you how scared he is of ever being that person.

The thing about love is that it gives you something to lose. It gives you a reason to make good decisions. It gives you something to fear for.

As he turns to leave, Yuuji freezes in his tracks. He throws a look over his shoulder. “Just for the record-- it hurt. Leaving. I did love you.”

You smile. It’s a genuine smile, but it’s sad, too. “I know.”

And the thing about fear is that some people can’t bear it well enough to let themselves love someone.

You watch his retreating back for a brief moment before climbing into your car. It’s not until you’re halfway home that you realize you’re crying. Tears roll down your cheeks into your lap, staining your jeans.

You hope he comes to love that new girl, the one he’s sharing a Monster with. You hope she loves him back with all her heart. You hope she spends hours and hours picking through his pieces and reassembling him from the bottom up. You hope she comes to find that his kisses taste like tobacco and novelty, like ink and enigma, like rosewater and ashes and joy. You hope that, to her, those kisses never taste like regret.

You hope that this time, he’s scared. But not so scared he can’t let himself stay.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #hq terushima #terushima #terushima yuuji #terushima x reader #terushima yuuji x reader

1K notes · View notes

thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago

Text

Accidentally Bare - Preference #2

Summary: A preference/snippet of pedro characters accidently seeing the reader in their underwear. Honestly, ignore the title I suck at them lmao. I also have no idea why I kept mentioning showers.

Warnings/Content: A little suggestive, dirty thoughts. 18+ please.

Paring: Din Djarin, Javier Peña, Agent Whiskey, and Frankie Morales/Female reader

I am also taking requests for head cannons and more preferences at this moment if anyone has any ideas!

Din Djarin

Nothing could stop the deep chill that created goosebumps that made your body shiver despite the thick wool of Din’s cape that was pulled tight around your chest. The walk back to the crest was freezing, clothes heavy and weighing you down with every squish your boots made underneath you, the temperature of the stupid desert planet plummeting at night into single degree temps, falling into the lake was definitely not on your to do list.

Water still dripping from your sleeves, fingers shaking where the fabric bundles in the middle of your chest to support the heaviness of the cape as the crushing on dense sand from heavy boots behind you let you know the Mandalorian is still there. He’s silent as ever, mad at himself for letting you even step on the ice but as soon as he saw you fall into the deep pit of water he dived right in after, forgetting the bounty, making the choice to let him escape.

The first step on the Crest is a relief, familiarity and warmness welcome you but it’s not enough to calm the numbing that took over all your senses, voiding any sensation in your trembling fingers. The breeze that falls over the crest as the ramp closes with a gush of wind but you don’t seem to care as the cape wrapped around you falls to the floor. The Mandalorian walks past you silently, which you guess retiring for the night because at the last second before the he climbs the ladder of the cockpit by the way his fingers start to peel of the beskar not caring as it trails and clanks against the floor of the ship, fingers rim the edge of his helmet lifting it just enough to see the ends of his hair curl and stick against the nape of his neck as it drips to his tunic before the cockpit swallows him.

If it wasn’t for how freezing you were there is no doubt you would be taken back by his openness, even wet you weren’t expecting it to so wavy, a little messy but it touches the collar of the tunic and you honestly couldn’t move as the realization dawned on you. Eyes running over the length of the ladder that rattles due to deep hum of the engine, the imagine burning behind into them.

The cool shiver reminds you of the current predicament, fingers burning and toes numb at the verge of turning purple. A frustrated huff falls from your lips as you pull at the laces of your boots, fingers too stiff to move but eventually get them off, not caring where they fall. Only functional thought is to feel the warm water of the fresher to regain feeling in your appendages.

Hands grasp the hem of your shirt, lifting it despite the cool air that nipped the skin of your stomach. With only one goal in mind and a stubborn button that just won’t latch from your pants, you don’t notice as the ladder shakes with the weight of the Mandalorian as he gains entrance back into the belly of the ship. He’s out of his armor, but the helmet had seem to find it’s way back onto his head but his upper body in a white, thin shirt, his pants hand dangerously low on his hips, they offer his body more warmth with no doubt lined with some kind of fleece, gray in color and a pair of socks. The wet pants stick to you, with your back turned toward Din who freezes the moment he notices you shimmy them down your legs, revealing the black pair of underwear the hugs your ass in the most delicious way.

He’s red, blushing, no doubt you can see the way his chest spots pink through the white shirt, hands forming fist next to his side as you turn to make a b-line for the fresher but the mass of the man catches your eyes, pausing.

Eyes never leave you, he just freezes up, unable to move as the situation seems to do the same to you. He tries, really tries not to look but can’t help it as he notices how thin the bra is, a pretty pastel pink, cute but the way your nipples harden against it is anything but, he’s speechless, mouth drying as eyes take in the smoothness of curves, drops down to the thinness of underwear, they leave little to the imagination, sticking against skin letting him see every inch and suddenly he wants nothing more than to rub his own -

His eyes lift back up to your own, the embarrassment that paints your cheeks makes him realize just how wrong it is. “I-I’m sorry.” He stutters, eyes casting down to the cotton that covers his toes, ashamed with red cheeks, horrified that it has even happened. “Just came down to use the shower -.”

Desire sirs deep inside his stomach, makes him awkwardly shift his hips as he turns to leave but the smooth hands that catch his fingers makes him pause, turning to face you once again. “We can both use it.”

Javier Peña

Nothing can still your pounding heart, it’s racing, taking up all the space in your chest that it barely allows room for your lungs to expand, to take one good breath to sustain your frantic body needs, instead it’s broken up into patchy, erratic breaths that make you dizzy, vision blurring as a result.

It’s a blur but there’s no mistaking the metallic taste of blood, it’s not yours but it seems like it should be by the way it covers every part of you. It dots your face, coats your hands with such thickness, soaks through the shirt to stain your chest pink. There’s so much of it, it takes over and fills all your senses. All you see is red, all you feel is hands rub your face to talk yourself out of this moment of weakness but the way it smears even worse across your skin, fills the pores of your skin, makes bile raise but swallow it down.

It’s been an hour but fear still makes you shake, not bothering to even talk to anyone the moment you pull the trigger just driving home without a single word, not even to your partner Javi. The door of your apartment is even left open in your own wake, trying to yank the soaked clothes, not caring as your bloody shirt falls from shoulders staining the white carpet of your apartment.

Finger fumble with pants as well, too shaky but none the less slowly shimmer them down flushed thighs. You suddenly can’t move, no matter how bad the shower calls you from the other room, shaky fingers press to the floor under you for support as you lower yourself to the ground until the rough carpet scratches the back of thighs but your thankful to feel something other then pure terror, relish in the scratch the spreads to the back of your knees as you bring them to your chest, lean against the couch for support with a shaky chest.

“I’m sorry.” You don’t realize how much time passes as the low baritone breaks through the sound waves, Javi averts his eyes, realizing the vulnerability on the situation. “The door was open, I just let myself in.”

“I-It’s okay.” Chest moves with the stutter, unable to realize your in nothing but a thin bra, that leaves little to the imagination and a matching black thong, that shows just how much the carpet irritates the skin of inner thighs, leaves a big rash just on the underside of your cheeks.

It’s not the way he intended seeing you like this the first time, beautiful doe eyes filled with tears that slip past beautiful, full eyelashes. It makes his heart stop, the low light of the lamp in the corner contour the dark shadows of your face, show the sharpness of cheek bones, outlines the shape of your jaw. He hates the way he can’t look away from your heaving chest, flushed breast barely fill the cups of the lacy bra, down the smoothness of skin, still stained a dark red from all the blood, down to the edges of inner thighs.

You watch as his gaze falls between your legs but when they meet up at your face again, his lips fall, a deep sigh as a thick layer of tension fills the room. There’s nothing you want more then to forget this feeling, distract yourself with Javi.

Suddenly, he’s all that’s on your mind. The way his tongue runs over those perfect lips, wanting to feel the sensation of his moustache against your upper lip, the burns between your thighs. It’s what you think you’re getting as he lowers to his knees, finally give into the temptation of each other but the blanket that falls to your shoulders surprises you. His fist wraps around each end to ball it against your chest as his other hand reaches for a small piece of hair that frames your face, pushing it behind your ear as his lips ghost over it. “Let’s get you in the bath, cariño, yeah?”

Unsure eyes meet his, not trusting your own legs but his gentle fingers that fill the gaps between your own reinsuring. It’s a soft whine of surprise that makes you look up at him, a thankful sad smile that makes Javier return one that shows every scar of his soul, the feeling all too known to him. “I got you, honey.”

Agent Whiskey

It’s a mix up, an annoying one but none the less it’s not like you can kick Whiskey out of the hotel room and besides you’re both functioning adults, staying together in the room should be no problem but it’s a little difficult to feel comfortable with a stranger especially with one as pushy and touchy as the cowboy.

He’s nice, very polite but smug. There’s always a tight smirk across his face, sexy eyes that test your every move as you bring the rim of the glass to your lips with a soft sigh. The bar of the hotel is loud, a thick cloud of smoke from the passerby's tickles your nose. You try to ignore it, but turn abruptly even catching Whiskey off guard as he adverts his gaze but he’s not as sneaky as he thinks.

It’s hard to remember exactly why you turned when he offered a sweet smile, elbow against the bar while his hand wrapped around his own glass, other hand spraying over the thickness of his thighs, sitting to face you with that dumb smirk. You really can’t help it as your eyes fall between his legs, “What’s up, sugar?”

It’s either he chooses not question why or is just so used to women checking him out but your throat dries at his peering gaze, the way he wraps his lips around the glass after his tongue pokes out to wet them. It makes your face hot, averting his intimating eyes. “Nothing, thought I saw something is all.”

“Mmmm.” It’s a small hum, hesitant like he wants to ask more but settles with the answer. It’s quiet, not awkward but the tension is heavy, clouding the space between you both. Scooting to the end of the seat, eyes nervously looking at him as you shift onto your feet, standing and muttering. “I’m going to head back to the room.”

“Alright sweetheart. I’m gonna have a few more drinks, head up without me. If you need me.” Two fingers press against the shell of his ear, his way of saying I’ll hear ya. You try not to let it affect you but the heat that crawls up your skin makes you huff, closing the door of the hotel room tightly.

A shower, to sooth the burning desire for your new partner, it was embarrassing, feeling like a teenage girl for a man that you barely know, all hot and bothered by him simply spreading his legs but it felt like an open invitation just for you. Hands reach for your shirt, pulling it up with little hesitation except for when it catches the onto the ear piece, stepping forward with a yelp as your foot comes in contact with the large bed frame. Pulling the ear piece off with not much thought, throwing it and the shirt onto the bed, fingers pop the metal from the buttonhole also discarding your pants.

It all happens so fast, the door crashes open, hitting the wall. Pure instinct takes over, despite only being in a very, very revealing bralette and a matching lacy thong fumbling for the gun on the night stand next to you, pointing it towards the mass of a man but let out a sigh of relief. “What is wrong with you? barging in like that, I could have shot you.”

It goes to deaf ears, smooth lines of your collarbones catching him off guard, dropping to the soft curves of your breast. He steps closer, shutting you up immediately as his fingers spread out across the hem of your underwear, warmness erupting to the lazy trail of his fingers.

The cocky smirk that overpowers your own confused one as a tick falls from his lips, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes peering under that stupid cowboy hat, “Now If you wanted me to see you naked you didn’t have to pretend you’re in trouble, darlin’.”

Frankie Morales

There was never a day Frankie thought he’d be in the deep end of the forest again. The memories are still fresh, the sun doesn’t quite sting his skin like the one in Brazil but it’s a close second, the aching memories still squeeze his heart but it’s a silent burn, one he’ll take to his grave and a life he thought he left behind forever.

Frankie is a man haunted by his past, the memories never let him forget that life he used to lead. He is anything but soft, he’s kind, caring, smart, passionate but a sucker for a pretty face. It’s shown in the way he shameless answers too quickly for his liking at your proposition. To rescue your father, a man that owed a bunch of narcos too much money but you had nothing to offer except to help a single father who seemed to be struggling.

Maybe it was the way your sad eyes looked at him with an exaggerated expression, tiredness sag your face, large purple bags that crinkle with every sigh. There was no hope, and even if your father was alive, he kissed that life away a long time also, but then again here he is.

Deep in the jungle of Argentina, sun beating down and burning his skin, sweat beading on his forehead, between the valley of his chest as he swings the bottle of water back, the coolness soothing his raw throat. Your stance matches his own, shoulders dropped, heavy breaths but slower, the heaviness of the gun wrapped around your shoulders.

You were slowing him down, it was no lie. He told you multiple times he would do it but specifically didn’t want you to come with him, he would handle it all but sending a man alone to do something like this, despite how experienced he may be it didn’t seem right.

“Go.” You huff, fingers pushing against his shoulder. It had been the third time he stopped for you in ten minutes, clearly frustrated with a crinkle of his forehead, annoyed eyes looking for any sign of danger, even with the thick trunks of trees that camouflage into the color of face paint that decorates both yours and Frankie’s faces. “I’ll be right behind you.”

He looks unsure but nods lowly, turning as his feet to walk up the ledge of the tree as you take a deep breath, fingers trembling as you try to catch your breath, ass hitting the dirt harder then you intend to but it’s a relief to aching feet. It’s a blur of blackness, hand reaching up to pull yourself up but instead pull at something squishy?

Before you could react, big, black bugs by the hundreds run up your legs, crawl under your vest and shirt. The yell that echoes the forest is what catches Frankie’s attention, turning from his short distance ahead to find you. Face hot, fearing the worst as his heart pounds against his chest. Arms flaring frantic through the thick ropes and vines as he slips skillfully past above ground roots of trees.

You are no where in sight but the peaks of dark green clothes along the brush catch his eye, picking the fabric up, clutching your shirt between fingers. With one more look around he notices another piece of clothing, but the sound of splashing catches his attention. It’s not too far, just over a large tree that separates his view from you. It’s not what he expects, practically naked except for the nude bra and matching underwear that makes his eyes widen. If it wasn’t for the panic on your face he would have taken a second to appreciate the beauty in front of him, let desire burn deep on his skin but the way you frantically try to rub the bugs off makes him take action, hands catch your own, comforting eyes meeting your own. “Relax, relax, I’ll get them off.”

“It’s burns.” It’s a soft whine, as his fingers fall to your own, pressing them against his warm skin as he flattens his other hand down the skin of your arm, down your stomach with a delicious sting from the heat of his.

“I got you, honey.” The words are low, sugary as the realty of the situation makes your own cheeks flush. The bugs are gone, scattering at feet but his gaze never leaves your own. Only inches away from your face, lips so, so close but what really makes you dizzy is the way his hand cups your waist, squeezing so gently as his hot breath fans your face, fingertips trail to the wire of your bra, something in him snaps, giving into the desire as his lips press against yours with urgency.

tags: @victias @altarsw @coonflix @mudhornchronicles @buckysalefty @capsheadquarters @godohammers @ilikemymendarkandfictional @rogertaylorsfalsettogivemehives @maileecabudol @itsfangirlmendes @mermaidbrina @nikkixostan @moonlightnumbsthepainifeel @dinsbeskar @est19xxshit @owloveyounever @engie115 @impala1967666 @akatasukilove @nerdalert-andi @mailee420 @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @thatonedindjarinfan @winter_rxn @Sporadicshoebailifffish

573 notes · View notes

ateezmakemeweep · 4 years ago

Text

broken (part 2).

san x reader

word count: 12k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of domestic abuse and rape)

(part 1)

no matter how many times you tried to change your thinking patterns, you still classified your life into two parts: before the abuse and after.

you thought, after watching your ex-boyfriend being escorted out of the courtroom with a one-year prison sentence, that you wouldn’t be scared of him anymore.

you thought that moving out of the house and living in your new apartment would make day to day life easier, not needing to see the floor you were beaten on or counter you were forced to have sex on every day.

you thought that having san would make you feel happy and loved and enough. that having a whole new family unit consisting of seven other crazy boys and a crotchety old lady would be enough.

but as you sit curled up on the bathroom floor with tears in your eyes, you’re seeing you severely underestimated everything.

underestimated just how much trauma you still had to sort through and how badly that asshole really did mess you up.

six months ago:

“so we have the surveillance footage and witness testimony from your neighbors,” your lawyer explains gently, an older woman with kind eyes and soft-spoken voice that quickly transforms in the courtroom.

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

the harshest sentence being one year, a measly 365 days compared to the 1,825 he subjected you to every kind of abuse: sexual, emotional, mental, physical.

hitting and grabbing and slapping until your skin was littered with bruises and cuts.

talking so harshly to you that you believed dying was the best option, stripping you from any sort of confidence or self-esteem you once had.

making you feel completely inept and useless, solely viewing you as a piece of property he could boss around and use at his disposal.

you had left the office with shaking hands and a pounding heart, barely being able to dial san’s number before he answered after one ring.

this was the first appointment you’ve went to without him, insisting he can’t and won’t miss his midterm for this.

“hi, love. everything go okay?” he asks softly, with the sweet gentle voice that has quite literally kept you alive these past few months.

you don’t know what you did in another life to deserve san but you know that without him, you probably wouldn’t have made it this far. without his constant support and sweet reassurances, you wouldn’t have believed you could ever do this.

willingly tell police officers and lawyers about what happened to you, break down and expose yourself in such a way that always made you feel weak and pathetic.

admit aloud that, yes, you’ve been a victim of abuse and no, those bruises and scars on your body aren’t from clumsy falls into the wall or cabinet.

without him, accompanying you to the police station or lawyer’s office, where you knew jungkook was lingering, you would’ve never felt safe.

you would’ve broke down and took it all back, told them that you made it all up and to release him because he didn’t do anything wrong.

but he did so much wrong and you and san know that. the police and lawyers and judges know it too, several outbursts from the man in court and at the station proving that.

it’s what makes the thought of a personal statement so hard, having to look your ex-boyfriend in the face and watch him stare you down with not an ounce of remorse or sorrow.

san must know it too, if your silence through the phone tells him anything, and you can already hear shuffling in the background as he prepares to leave his class and head to your apartment.

“are you done with your test?” you ask first, voice sweet but mousy in a way that makes san’s stomach sink

he knew today was gonna be rough for you, he knew he should’ve asked his professor to retake the midterm next week.

“yes,” the boy answers immediately, knowing he’s about to run back into the classroom, circle c for the last three answers and haul ass to his car.

“san, are you-”

“i was done, it’s fine, y/n,” he confirms gently, feet moving and body desperate to rush toward your apartment.

because he knows after all of this time, you’ve learned to hold back your pain and suffering. years of practice and keeping tears at bay that he’s noticed have made these months difficult for you two.

and he hates knowing that you still wait till you’re alone to cry.

that even though every time you do, he wipes away every tear and holds you to his chest until you fall asleep, you still feel most comfortable being sad alone.

that you’re probably already home now, about to bury your face in a pillow and sob until you hear his car and wipe your cheeks clean like nothing is wrong.

but there’s a lot wrong.

a lot wrong with how you’ve been treated and how hard it is to move past it.

a lot wrong with the legal system that makes this painful journey even more exhausting, forcing you to recount memory after memory and answer question after question about the worst ordeals of your life.

that’s why san can’t help but turn in his test and rush out the door to his car, speeding off campus and onto the highway in hot pursuit of your apartment above the bakery.

it had seemed like perfect little place to get you back on your feet, the smell of freshly baked bread and pleasant bustle of regulars greeting you in the early morning hours.

there was no commute for you, just a walk down the stairs and through the yellow door of the bakery, where simple work waited for you.

“you just need to ring up the customers and maybe clean a table or two. most people take their things to go,” your boss had told you, a divorced mother of three who spent most of her life baking before she was finally able to open up a place of her own.

it was simple work but it was more than you’d done in years, something as little as small talk with regulars successfully draining you. filling you with a nervousness and fear that you’re still feeling even without your ex’s presence.

but it’s in the way a man yells on the phone about a business deal going sour while waiting for his morning coffee.

a woman chastising her kids saying that they won’t get to eat the cookies she’s buying after dinner.

the slam of the door when a harsh gust of wind howls from outside and rattles the small bakery with light blue walls and pictures of bread and desserts.

you don’t know how many coffees you’ve spilt or plates you’ve broken from jumping at the harsh sounds, realizing little by little how hard this transition was gonna be.

even with san and his friends and your boss and the crazy old lady who secured this new life for you in the first place, it’s still hard.

you can’t even imagine doing all of these new things alone, just living in such a simple way that the average person takes for granted.

but you suppose it’s not all simple yet, going back and forth between meetings with your lawyer and the police for the court date that’s rapidly approaching.

you can feel that the closer it comes, the harder it is to breathe.

the mere thought of seeing the man who hurt you for the longest five years of your life, sitting in front of you with not an ounce of remorse on his face. making this process even harder because how are you supposed to talk in front of him?

see clear as day that you’re not safe and you never will be.

that he’s gonna get out in a year, because that’s the harshest sentence possible without you being hospitalized or dead, and hurt you again. he’s never gonna stop hurting you because he always said you were his and he wouldn’t ever hesitate to-

you don’t even hear the jingle of san’s keys opening the front door or his softly spoken call of your name.

you’re only aware of his presence when you feel his warm, small hands cup your face, his thumbs rubbing over your wet, salty skin as he mutters your name lowly.

“hey, i’m here, i’m here,” he mumbles sweetly, tone soft and gentle the way it always is no matter what the circumstances are.

he plops down on the couch before pulling you into his lap, his hand rubbing up and down your back gently. you hear the quiet but firm “sh, sh, sh,” against your head, the sharp calming hums always in threes as an attempt to ground you.

you try to focus on his calming sounds and even breaths, the hand on your back so warm and gentle as he lulls your panicked body into a calmer state.

you bury your face in his chest and breathe in his scent, cologne and detergent mixed with his natural scent that lingers on your pillow every morning.

“i-i’m sorry.”

the words make his stomach plummet, tears burning his eyes because you never have anything to be sorry for. you never have anything to be sorry for and you say it all the time.

when you bump into him in the kitchen while making food together.

when you sit on the remote and change the channel by accident.

when you burnt the cookies one night and made the fire alarm go off.

he remembers that being one of the worse nights, the loud noises making you jump while also flinching away when he lifted his arm up to fan away the smoke. and then you immediately apologized again, cookies long forgotten before he grabbed your hand and led you into the living room.

he just held your hand as you both watched tv, his thumb rubbing over your skin before you spoke words so quietly, he almost missed them.

“i wish...i would stop doing that.”

he cranes his neck over to look at you, eyebrow raised and eyes soft as he looks at you questioningly.

he wants to tease and say that you’ve never burnt the cookies before but anytime you feel comfortable enough to talk to him like this, he never wants to say the wrong thing.

“i...i know you would never hurt me,“ you continue after a few moments. “and i know i’m just...scared easily, i guess. but it makes me feel bad,” you admit quietly, heart pulling in your chest as you look at the man beside you.

he has gotten you through the hardest times of your life, has been by your side every step of the way with no questions or complaints, and you haven’t been able to repay him.

not even with a plate of fucking cookies.

“you don’t have to feel bad, y/n,” san says gently, his hand reaching out slowly to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

your eyes close at his feather light touch and the way it makes your heart jump, his fingers lingering on you in a way that makes you feel so safe and content.

“and i know it’s hard to believe still but you have nothing to be scared of either. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again and i mean that.”

“but i feel like i’m hurting you,” you mumble softly, pulling your knees up as you rest your head on the couch cushion. his brows pull together as his eyes roam your face, a pout on his lips the more he looks at you in silence.

“you’ve helped me so much and i just...” tears fill your eyes as you struggle to find the words and breathe. you’ve only been living in your new house for two months now and almost every day, san has been here.

bringing you food, helping you clean and decorate, spending late nights with you watching movies, helping you through an inevitable fit of panic when your memories and life become too much.

he makes it easier to breathe and you’re scared that without him, you’re gonna stop one day.

“i just keep... taking from you. you get nothing out of helping me but you still do it anyway and i...you shouldn’t even bother, san. i-i’m not worth this time and i just want you to-”

“stop.”

he tries to keep the anger out of his voice knowing that all of this is what you’ve been told. you’ve been told your whole life that you weren’t enough, were only deemed worthy by a piece of shit who did nothing but hurt and berate you.

but it doesn’t make it any less hard to hear. to hear in your voice and see in your eyes that you truly believe you’re not worth the time he wants to put into you.

“you’re worth the time to me,” he says, voice gentle but firm in a way that makes a lump form in your throat. his finger reaches out to trace small circles on your hand, your eyes following it so he doesn’t see the tears building up.

“i like seeing you happy, y/n. and i wanna help you.”

your teary eyes meet his and you swallow the growing lump in your throat when you see the look on his face, soft and sweet in a way you still can’t believe is directed toward you.

“i feel like i need a lot of help,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as you think back to how day to day life is so challenging and draining.

the loud voices and the screaming kids and banging door that sends you into a panic. the broken dishes and tear stains on your pillow that are there more often than not after san leaves every night.

but san’s hearing each and every word right now, his heart panging in his chest at how vulnerable you are right now. how you let him see this side of you and continue to despite how hard he knows everything’s been.

“that’s okay,” he smiles softly, stopping the circles on your hand to intertwine your fingers. “i’m gonna be here as long as you need me, okay?”

you look up to meet his gaze and feel a tear slip down your cheek, a cry bubbling in your throat that you so desperately wanna let out.

but you also don’t wanna make san any more sad tonight, biting down on your lip as you nod your head before leaning on his shoulder.

you don’t see the smile that crosses his face or hear the content sigh that leaves him, his hand in yours and presence enough to lull you into a dreamless sleep.

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you quietly, looking over your face as he wipes at your cheeks. you meet his gaze and your eyes stay locked on one another, his thumb gentle and soft across your skin.

“did you do good on your test?” you squeak out after a few moments of silence, a smile breaking out across his face.

“of course i did, we studied all night, didn’t we?” he teases, referring to just last night when you helped him with index cards and read them all to him twice before promptly passing out on his chest.

a blush crosses your face as you look down in embarrassment, a sweet high pitched laugh bubbling out of him.

“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. your drool only ruined a few of them.”

“i don’t drool,” you mutter, a small smile on san’s face as he tightens his hold on you in his lap.

“did you eat yet?”

you shake your head as indistinguishable mumble leaves your mouth, curling yourself into his chest more as his warmth and comforting scent envelop you.

his lips brush against your hair in a small smile, quietly asking what you wanna eat even though he knows you’re gonna say you don’t care.

“whatever you want,” you mutter against him, the exhaustion of waking up at 5 am and the draining meeting with your lawyer catching up to you.

and san knows on days like these that chinese food and watching reruns of old cartoons is usually the thing you need to feel a little bit better.

pretend that just for a few hours, everything is okay and there’s nothing more pressing than spending the night together in what always turns into having a sleepover.

because just as you found it difficult to live in that house you once shared with jungkook, san finds it difficult to go back to that block every night.

stay just a few houses away from where he’s reminded of how you were treated while he was just a few feet away.

watching as the backyard once full of flowers becomes dull and colorless and every window reminds him of what was truly going on behind the walls of that house.

it’s one of the reasons why staying with you just makes sense. that and the fact that leaving you always proves to be the hardest part of the night together.

you with a pout and sad eyes quietly whining for him to stay and him being completely powerless as he throws himself down next to you and wraps his arms around your waist.

he’s not surprised when the same thing happens tonight, your eyes drooping and body slacking against him before he quietly asks if he should get going. you look up at him tiredly, eyebrows pulled together and one cheek red from you leaning on his chest in a way that makes him hold back a smirk.

“no,” you say quietly, your eyes roaming his face before you quickly realize he might want to leave you. the thought rips a pang of hurt through your chest but you can’t help but feel that might be the case.

you ripped him away from his test and cried on him all night. why would he wanna stay with you?

“unless you want to. i-i don’t wanna force you to stay here if you don’t-”

“of course i want to,” san responds, taking your face in his hands gently and allowing his thumb to run along your soft skin. “i was just checking.”

because he also never wants to overstep. make you feel too overwhelmed or smothered since if it were up to him, he’d never leave your side again.

his words and touch send relief through you, the panic and fear that attempted to break through quickly dying it. everything about him makes it so easy to be calm and comforted, a smile making it’s way on your face as you nod.

you place your head back on his chest, sighing contently when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder a few moments later. you stare at the tv blankly, not sure how long you’re lost in thought about the conversation at the lawyer’s office.

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

could you really do that though? strip yourself to the most vulnerable degree and proclaim to a courtroom full of people how weak and defenseless you were for five years? how the man who’s gonna be seated just a few feet away over you had that much power over you?

would you feel better looking jungkook in the face and telling him that you’re gonna be strong and come out okay? that he won’t be able to hurt you anymore and will rot behind a cell for what he’s done?

or would you it make you feel worse? seeing him again and the blankness behind his eyes. the pity and sorrowful looks on the judge and court officers when your voice shakes and eyes brim with tears as you recall your old life.

you’re not even sure if san is awake at this point, his arm heavy around you and breaths even under your head but you can’t seem to stop your tired self from speaking.

“my lawyer suggested i make a personal statement.”

san doesn’t stutter under you, the only sign of him being awake when he hums lowly and gently pulls away from you. the bed dips next to you when he lays on his side, your eyes meeting just as he reaches out to smooth out a messy strand of hair.

“yeah?” he mumbles lowly, his soft eyes roaming your face. “how do you feel about that?”

the question, despite the serious tension in leaves in the air, makes you smile softly, remembering when your lawyer recommended counseling, you thought back to san waiting in the car and felt as if you already had all the support you needed.

he has the most patience and kindness of anyone you’ve ever met before and you can’t imagine trusting someone as much as trust him. have someone else hear you this vulnerable and genuine, see you cry and feel all the emotions that come with rebuilding your life after being a victim of domestic violence.

“i don’t know if i can do it.”

the words make san frown, holding himself up on his elbow as he looks over your face with concern. he can tell you’re tired, eyes hazy and drooping but he also can tell your mind’s been preoccupied.

more so than usual.

“i...i don’t know if i could do it with him there.”

“he’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” san reminds you gently, his hand creeping down in between your bodies to take ahold of yours. it’s soft and small and warm and everything about it makes you feel safe.

“i-i know. but...just him being there. watching me and hearing me say what he’s done when i know he has no remorse. and then telling more people how i let it go on for so long and-”

“you didn’t let anything go on for too long. it wasn’t your fault. y/n.”

tears burn your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, hearing those words from almost everyone in your life but still not having the ability to grasp it.

it feels like your fault, it feels like you’ve allowed yourself to be treated in a way you knew was wrong for far too long.

because now look at you. trying to rebuild your life but being panicked when the wind howls just a little too loudly outside.

you take a few deep calming breaks and swallow as you look at him, eyes hazy and glossy and threatening to close shut; you’re so tired but it’s like your brain never stops going these days.

“she said...it’d guarantee the harshest sentence. but shouldn’t the evidence be enough? the tapes and the witnesses? why- why do i have to keep going through this?” you whisper, voice shaky and tears building as you look at him. the sight alone makes san stomach sink, rolling his tongue between his lips anxiously.

“i just want it to be over. i don’t wanna keep recounting what happened over and over and over again. i... it’s so hard, san. it’s so hard and i feel like i can’t do it anym-”

your words break off as a quiet whimper leaves your mouth, crumbling against san’s body when he pulls you forward and wraps his arms around you. your head falls in the crook of his neck as his hand rests on the back of your head, breathing slowly and evenly as quiet hums leave his mouth.

“I know, baby,” san mumbles, his lips against your head as he presses a kiss to your hair. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? no one can make you do anything.”

"you're hurting me, jungkook," your broken voice tells him, the cracks and pain behind it familiar to even your own ears.

you don't know how many times you've heard yourself like this. so desperate and defeated.

"i wish i didn't have to, babydoll," he says lowly, "but you never listen. you make me do this."

and you don’t even think about if you’re gonna regret it at the time. not use your own voice and speak up in front of the courtroom about what the man on trial did.

you can only think about his eyes watching you, your friends hearing your voice quiver and shake, the judge maybe not taking your words into account. it all seems too much right now, the crushing weight of anxiety and fear that’s making you feel too weak to do that.

“you made it this far. and it’s almost all over, okay?” san reassures, his hand stroking your hair as he tries to calm your cries. “if you wanna do it, i’ll be right there next to you. we’ll all be there for you and you’ll be safe the whole time. but if you don’t, that’s okay too. you don’t have to and everything will still be okay.”

and because it’s like the blonde just knows everything when it comes to you, everything is okay - or as okay as things can be under these circumstances.

your lawyer didn’t bat an eye when you told her you weren’t sure if you could do a personal statement, her hand on your shoulder as she gently tells you that it’s okay. that the harshest sentence would probably still be given, considering the unusual amount of evidence in a case like this.

you watched jungkook get taken out of court with a one year sentence, thrashing in handcuffs and cursing at you while you gripped san’s hand tightly.

you had foolishly thought watching that was gonna somehow heal you immediately.

no longer make you afraid or flinch at the smallest of sounds or movements, make you feel like now you can take san’s words to heart and feel worthy of the love he showered you with.

but it was with that love, you started to grow too dependent. let it consume you in a whole new way that made you feel like without san, you couldn’t breathe.

at first, he didn’t know what had triggered the episodes that followed three months after the trial.

it had seemed as if you were making a lot of progress over the past few months, truly happy and smiley without an ounce of fear in your eyes that had always seemed to linger.

you were working hard at the bakery, becoming closer with the regulars and even finding it easier to talk with them. they found you comforting and sweet, always greeting them with a warm smile and remembering how many sugars they got with their morning coffee.

the same warm smile you gave san when he told you he was visiting his parents for his mom’s birthday one weekend, sending him off with a loaf of bread and an array of cookies.

“don’t eat them all,” you teased lightly, side-eyeing mingi who was one of your many regulars and could also take your advice as he shovels rainbow cookies in his mouth.

“i won’t,” san smiles gently, looking in mingi’s direction and holding back a laugh upon seeing the boy.

he was probably the next closest person you came to trust since you all got to know each other, a soft spot for him ever since the moment he deemed sunflowers ‘sunnies’ during the darker times.

mingi was the happiness and innocence you think you must have had once. finding the good in everything and being happy just because the sun was out and dessert was on the table.

“and neither should you,” san chastises the younger boy, smacking him in the back of the head lightly. you smile softly at the exchange, holding back a snort as you clean off the table next to the bickering boys.

the arm around your waist a few moments later would’ve startled you had you not smelt san’s cologne, leaning into him and feeling grateful you’re the only three in the store right now.

you look over your shoulder and smile softly at him, heart stuttering at the look on his face. eyes full of such concern, you should know he’s about to ask you if you’re-

“are you gonna be okay tonight?”

he wasn’t ignorant of the fact, the same way you weren’t, that this is gonna be one the first nights you’ve spent alone in months.

not falling asleep to the gentle lull of his breathing or his arms around your waist. no one to be there if you wake up from a nightmare, where memories torment your body as you hear the shouts of your ex and feel as if your body is still being bruised.

san not being there to wake you with a gentle peck on the cheek before dragging you back to the warm bed when you try to get up for work.

but you have to be okay, right? you’ve been doing so good these past few weeks. and you’re an adult the same way he’s an adult, it’s ridiculous to think you guys would have to spend every night together.

“of course, silly” you poke him gently, smiling when his dimples poke out of his cheeks. “have fun with your parents. don’t worry about me.”

“i always worry about you,” he mumbles lowly, his lips ghosting over your hair as you push his chest lightly. he bites back a smile when he sees the blush on your cheeks, pulling away from him immediately so you can stick your tongue out at him.

and that night, it actually feels as if you’re okay.

you busy yourself by cleaning and cooking before passing out to the vampire diaries. your sleep is dreamless and calm, waking up to a good morning message from san consisting of a bare-faced, messy-haired selfie.

but a few days after his return is when he began to notice the little changes.

behaviors he thinks you weren’t even aware of that made his heart sink into his stomach; it reminded him so much of the first few weeks you were away from jungkook.

how despite the fear in your eyes, you clung to him because you knew he’d never hurt you. felt safe in his presence and sought him out when you were feeling uncomfortable or upset.

and he sees you’re back to the place right now, so obviously uneasy and upset despite the major progress you’ve been making.

it was like the second he came through the door, you had to be by his side. leaning your head on his shoulder as you watched your shows or grabbing his hand when he got up to go to the bathroom.

at first, he thought it was cute - your clinginess and obvious affection toward him. he thought it was sweet and it made him so happy, smiling softly and kissing the top of your head as he told you he’d be back in a minute.

but the more the weeks went on, the worse it was seeming to get.

you asking him after only a few hours of him at school when he was gonna be back. nightmares and bad memories haunting you when you’d fall asleep for naps in between your shift ending and his last class.

“baby... are you sure you’re okay these days?”

the words cause you to stop stirring the pasta in the pot, craning your neck to where san is sitting on the countertop.

he meets your gaze with a soft smile and extends his hand out to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your nose before pulling you up.

you squeal at the sensation, giggling quietly because there you two are just perched on the counter like two cats and no regard for the boiling pot of food beside you.

you giggle again when he places a kiss to your neck, tightening his hold around your waist.

he relishes in the sound of your laugh because it also seems like these days, he’s hasn’t heard it that much.

“i feel like i haven’t heard that in a while,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips lingering on your skin. he never wants to say the wrong thing with you or make you feel like you’re not doing good enough.

you pull back and look at him with a small pout, your fingers toying at the end of his shirt nervously.

“i...i’m okay though,” you tell him quietly, thinking it’s the truth even though you have felt off these days.

you didn’t know what it was though honestly. it’s felt like ever since san came back from his parents, you’ve needed him extra. clingy and needy and annoying in the sense that the poor man can’t even go away without you needing him.

and now he seems to know it, too.

maybe he doesn’t wanna do this anymore. maybe he didn’t sign up for months of you going back and forth, feeling great and confident one week and then back to being clingy and scared the next.

because you know it’s only a matter of time before two things happens: he gets sick of you and leaves or starts resenting you. doesn’t wanna waste his time with a battered woman when he could be wth fun and carefree college girls.

“have i been annoying?”

your blurted out question throws him off as much as it breaks his heart, immediately shaking his head as he cups your cheeks.

his lips fall into a pout and your eyes immediately fall to them, about to comment on it before he places a sweet, short peck on yours.

you two, despite your close and intimate relationship full of skin-ship, don’t kiss a lot. you can only count of one hand how many times san has kissed you on the lips, most of the time going for your cheek or head.

but you certainly don’t mind.

you think it’s good to take it slow, since everything else about your relationship is so intense. that’s why the times he does kiss you, you get filled with such a happy warm feeling that usually makes you feel better no matter what.

that’s how you know you’re not right. that suddenly, for some reason, you’re not okay again despite being so incredibly lucky that the people in you life now care about you.

they’re trying so hard to help you and it feels like you can’t repay them in any way.

“no, no, baby, not at all,” san says when he pulls back, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. “i’m just concerned.”

the lump in your throat makes it feel like you can’t breathe, biting your lip harshly as you look up at the blonde.

“i love that you want me around,” he continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at you. “but i’m just...i also wanna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod your head as you take in his words, slightly calmed by them despite the way your mind is trying to tell you otherwise.

he loves that you want him around, he just said so. and he wouldn’t put up with you if he didn’t want to, right?

“i’m okay,” you assure sweetly, leaning into his touch just a little bit more. “i guess i just missed you.”

your cheeks flush at the soft, almost touched look that crosses san’s face, his lips falling into a pout as he tightens his hold on you.

“i missed you too.”

boiling liquid splashing onto the stove causes you both to look away, a squeal leaving your mouth as the foamy water overflows the pot.

“shit!” you squeal, jumping down from the counter to rush over and lower the heat. san watches from his spot with a small smile, chuckling lightly when you throw him a look.

“sorry,” he says sheepishly, a playful roll of your eyes causing him to jump down and hug you from behind.

he presses small kisses and laughs into the crook of your neck as you finish making the pasta, feeding him pieces from the pot to see if it’s cooked enough.

you eat on the couch and spend the rest of the night watching tv, a relatively calm and relaxed night that makes you feel much better than the past few days.

you think you just got so used to his presence, the comfort and warmth and light he provides by just being in your apartment and smiling at you.

you were scared by how attached you’d grown to him, depending on him in a way you think a person who has gone through what you’ve gone through shouldn’t.

but he’s so good and makes you feel loved. it’s such a different feeling than one you’ve ever experienced, after your family and friends and ex-boyfriend let you down time and time again.

you’ve never had someone like this before but you’ve also never tried to rebuild your life before. never had the chance to be your own person and make your own decisions - it’s something you’re still learning and that’s evident to everyone in your life.

but the next morning, a pleasant surprise in the form of mrs. kim comes bursting through the door and immediately lights your face with a smile; apart from san and mingi, she’s another person you’ve grown extremely close and fond of.

she’s the one who made everything possible, rebuilding your life with a new home and workplace. it’s why she always tries to push you further out of your comfort zone and into the real world with gentle prodding and much needed assurance.

she’s at the bakery for almost two hours before she pulls up a chair behind the register and gets that look in her eye you know all too well. it’s the look she gave you the day you accepted the apartment, insisting you take it and make it your own and to not even think about how to pay her back.

the look she gave you before the trial as she gave you strength, told you that you were strong and you were gonna get through this, with or without your personal statement.

and apparently it’s the look she gives you when she broaches the topic of you enrolling back in school.

“so what do you think?” she asks, tone carefree and excited like she’d been thinking about this for weeks. “is that something you’d wanna do?”

your immediate thought is yes. yes, yes, yes shout it from the rooftops yes. you miss school and learning and all the experiences that come with getting an education.

you once loved school and had so many aspirations but then your life apart. the prospect of an education or getting a job was dangled in your face as some sort of manipulation tactic.

that when jungkook went too far and left you especially bloody and bruised, he’d mentioned school like it was the answer to all of your problems as a couple. like that was his penance and would win him boyfriend of the year.

and mrs. kim must see the haunted look in your eye, replaying flashbacks and memories from how choices like that weren’t under your control for the longest time.

“listen to me, stop staying in there,” she says, flicking at your head and making you wince. “is that something you wanna do? yes or no?”

“yes but i-”

“but nothing,” the old lady says, wiping out an ipad the boys had been teaching her how to use for the past few weeks; the font is the biggest size you’ve ever seen and has a cat case on that almost makes you burst out laughing upon seeing.

“i was looking at the local school, it’s close and cheap but you could always get some financial aid, scholarships or even a loan,” she begins to tell you, eyes squinted and a wrinkle between her browns as she taps on the screen. “this shit is so hard, i’m still trying to learn. oh, great here it is, okay. look, they even have this major.”

you had mentioned once that you thought about a career in journalism to her, one night when you and her were making cookies in her house as the boys tended to her garden (because they were gardeners now, official, professional gardeners who only know how to plant sunflowers).

tears almost immediately fill in your eyes as you follow her pruny finger, licking over your lips so you don’t start sobbing.

she looks up at you after a few moments of silence and it’s promptly followed by her smacking your arm, a scoff leaving her mouth that makes you giggle.

“what are you crying about?”

the emotion clogged in your throat makes it hard to speak, attempting to talk through the strange contrast of tears and laughter bubbling in your throat.

“i just... i can’t believe you remember i told you that. it was so long ago.”

“what? you think because i’m old i don’t remember shit? i’m not a senile, y/n, jesus.”

a wet giggle leaves your mouth as you listen to her talk about the research she’s done, about how to pay and when you can start and her son’s experience at the local college.

it all makes you feel very hopeful, excited even, as you think about what once seemed impossible.

getting out in the world and pursuing a passion you as an individual had. making connections and just conversing with different people and seeing relationships form.

but all of those doubts and fears instilled in you don’t just go away.

you remember months back when you told san you were writing again, he was the one who recommended going back to school.

was so happy about it that his eyes were shining and dimples were out and you’d never seen someone more handsome.

but now that you guys are...kind of together, would his mind change? does he not want you talking to other people either now? will he think it’s silly or pointless, since you already have you job at the bakery?

you know deep down that that’s not the kind of person san is. you knew from the moment you met him and risked talking and smiling and laughing with him that he was good.

but that part of you still scared and broken from what you went through, the prospect of school and freedom dangled in your face as some sort of reward or apology, is scared he won’t approve.

and whether it’s unhealthy or not, all you want is san’s approval.

“c-can i ask you something?” you ask him later that night, both of you cuddled up on the couch.

a blanket’s thrown over your lap with san’s arm around your shoulder, your head now off his chest as you look up at him questioningly.

he immediately looks down at you with a soft, curious expression, running his hand through your hair as a small smile makes it’s way on his face.

“anything,” he hums lowly, already making your nervous body feel slightly more calm.

you have to try and always remember this is the boy who’s been by your side for months, with no complaints. who saved you from your life before this and only wants you to be safe and happy.

“i was talking to miss kim earlier today...” you begin, his interest already peeked because he thinks he might know where this is going; he was suspicious ever since the older woman asked him how to make the font larger on her ipad.

he sees the slight apprehension and fear in your eyes so he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your skin gently and giving you a small, encouraging nod.

you take a deep breath and try to shake the worry off, opening and closing your mouth before deciding to spit it out.

“we...were talking about me going back to school. and i...kind of thought that would be something good for me to do. i used to love school and learning and mrs kim. said there’s a lot of things i could do to pay for it and stuff, if i needed to...”

his chest hurts slightly watching you stammer over your words nervously, your eyes moving from him to the wall as you start to unconsciously hold his hand tighter.

“but if you don’t want me to or think it’s a stupid idea, i won’t. i just...wanted to make sure it was okay with you.”

you don’t see the way san sits there in contemplation as you’re too nervous and toying with the edge of the blanket, his face sympathetic but also a little surprised.

there’s a lot of things that san is still getting used to, the way you’re so vulnerable and attached to him (in a way he doesn’t mind at all).

but it’s like right now he’s seeing the severity of it, watching as a grown woman asks for his permission for something she absolutely doesn’t.

it makes tears burn the back of his eyes but he quickly pushes the sensation and desire away, his hand lifting your chin so you made his gaze head-on.

“y/n...you don’t need my permission to do anything. you... you know that, right?”

your eyebrows pull together almost in confusion that he didn’t immediately respond with a yes or no, head cocked to that side as you lick over your lips nervously.

he can’t help but think if this was a fault on his part. did he make you feel like you have to ask his permission or approval for things? did he maybe at any point make you feel scared or judged when he’s been doing his best to avoid that?

your harsh grip on his hand brings him back to the conclusion that, right now, this isn’t about him.

whether he did that or not, he has to make sure right now that you know you’re your own person and don’t need to run decisions by him or anyone else.

“baby, i think it’s great you wanna do that and will support whatever you wanna do. but you don’t have to ask for...my permission to do anything,” san tells you softly, his hand cupping your face as he presses a kiss to your head; the words ‘his permission’ even feel gross on his tongue.

“i’m happy if you’re happy. and if going to school will make you happy, i’m gonna be supportive 100%. you got it, love?”

you don’t even know why you’re surprised by san’s reaction but it still brings tears to your eyes, only being able to nod before you bury your face in his chest.

he bites back a smile at the feel of you against him, running his hand up your back to gently rest in your hair.

“you still wanna study journalism?” he mumbles against your hair and again, you can only nod so you don’t let out the whimper threatening to leave you mouth.

because it still shocks you day after day that everyone in your life now truly seems to care.

they remember things about you and want to see you smile, always remind you that you can do whatever you want and are slowly making you see that, maybe, you will be okay in the end.

it may not seem like a lot to someone who’s been lucky enough to have these things but, for you, it’s something you haven’t ever had before.

the ability to giggle and smile and spend your night with someone who you can see really, truly loves you. who wouldn’t do anything to hurt you and always has your best interests in mind.

that’s exactly why when you fall asleep, san can’t help but turn to look at your sleeping form. he runs his hand through your messy hair, moving a strand from your face and feeling his heart lurch at how peaceful and innocent you look.

he still can’t get the thoughts out of his heads from earlier, wondering if, maybe, this whole time, he hasn’t been doing the right thing.

maybe these past few months, you should’ve been rebuilding your life on your own. he shouldn’t have been here every, single step of the way to sooth and coddle and protect you.

it was something hongjoong said just a few weeks after you moved in and he nearly attacked the boy, asking how he could let you cry alone every night and feel lonely and scared in a new place?

but he also knows that hongjoong is more logical than him. he’s always let his emotions get to him, empathetic and caring almost to a fault.

and with you, he was always even more clouded.

now, though, he’s seeing that maybe hongjoong has a point. he’s seen it in the way you’ve become more clingy and dependent on him, something he loves and makes him feel warm but also knows, for you, is a part of feeling safe.

and as hard as it is for him to admit, he knows you need to feel safe without him. slowly rebuild your own sense of self and security without him always being there to wipe your tears or kiss your face.

but how is supposed to do that? he thinks, watching your sleeping face with a pained chest and burning eyes.

he’s about to get up to get a glass of water before he hears you whine, both his feet not even on the floor before even in your unconscious you can sense his departure.

“going to get water, love, i’ll be right back,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing the side of your head when you still and roll back over.

he gulps down the cool liquid before resting his head on the cold fridge, letting out a sigh as he realizes he may need to have another discussion with hongjoong.

even more so when he goes back into the room and sees your face, the slightest hint of discomfort in your pinched eyebrows and frowning lips.

you turn back over when he crawls in the bed again, your head on his chest and arm wrapping around his stomach.

he smiles upon hearing your sleepy voice call his name, dazed eyes staring up at him as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“hi, baby. i’m back.”

“i love you.”

the confession make his eyes widen and heart speed up, shocked into silence at those three, sudden words.

because while it’s obvious that’s how you both feel for each other, your sweet touches and words exchanged since the moment you met one another, you two haven’t ever uttered that sentence.

never put it out in the open and really discussed your feelings for one another.

but your eyes are shut and breaths turn even before you can even hear his softly spoken, “i love you,” in return.

and it’s because he loves you that he tells hongjoong about the thoughts he’s been having, wondering if he’s been doing the wrong thing the whole time and just making this transition harder for you.

“i think you’re trying to make it easier because you love her and don’t wanna see her hurt anymore.”

san’s eyes meet hongjoong’s across the dining room table at their house, a house san hasn’t slept or eaten at basically since you moved out; everyone knew where he was and they understood it completely but they also missed their friend’s presence.

“but...she does need to learn to be on her own, san. she’s never done that before and she’s always been dependent on someone. luckily you’re just...so fucking good that it wouldn’t be a problem. but even with her asking you if she could go to school...she’s not okay, yet, san. she needs to sort her shit out.”

“i don’t want her to be alone,” the blonde admits, voice tight and eyes threatening to water. “i don’t want her to think i’m leaving her.”

“you’re not leaving her alone. you’re just not gonna be attached at the hip 24/7. it’s normal for couples to be apart. you still live and pay rent here, you know. everyone misses you.”

the sound of bickering and plates crashing promptly comes from the kitchen, mingi’s harsh yelp of wooyoung’s name causing a commotion of bickering to break out.

hongjoong looks at san with a half pained, half amused expression, knowing that the dimpled boy will have to readjust to how loud and chaotic the house is all the time.

“you don’t have to do right now,” hongjoong says, wanting to finish the discussion before the boys notice san is here and lost their shit. “ease her into it. talk to her about it. see if she feels the same way. but let her know you just wanna help her, because i know you do, right?”

san’s nod is immediate and hongjoong mirrors him, his eyes quickly widening as he looks over the blonde’s broad shoulder.

he doesn’t even get to turn around before a slew of bodies bump into him, nearly knocking him onto the floor as six large, excited boys are jumping and squealing around him.

“san! you’re finally home!”

you’re nearly two months into your first semester of college by the time you’ve fully adjusted to your new schedule and pace of life.

classes monday, tuesday and thursdays mornings followed by your shift at the cafe during the afternoons. you miss your early morning regulars dearly and don’t know what to do with the 10+ memorized coffee orders still in your brain but you already love school so much.

you love learning and talking with your professors and meeting the many different people on campus. you’ve even found a small group of friends, two girls who sat next to you and immediately started up a conversation with you.

you were terffied and shy at first but eventually opened up, giggling and sharing your thoughts with them before class started - you even always made sure to be 10 minutes early so you could get in your chats with them.

unsurprisingly, san had been nothing but happy and supportive for the entire journey. helping you apply and become familiar with the campus while also assuring you everything was gonna work out.

your days were busy and packed with work and you truly loved it but night was still your favorite. when san would walk through the door with take out or you’d be greeted with the sight of him waiting for you on the couch.

it really felt as if your life was finally coming together, happy and at peace in a way you never felt before. it was like you finally had some sort of control over what happened to you, long gone the feeling of knots in your stomach or an uncontrollable shake in your hands.

but when you notice san is a little more quiet than usual today, you feel that foreign feeling make it’s way back into your body.

“is...everything okay?” you finally grow the confidence to ask, his hand absentmindley rubbing your leg that’s sprawled out on his lap.

you can tell the question throws him off by the way he snaps his head up to look at you, brows pulled together and his head cocked cutely to the side as his eyes roam your face.

“’course love, why do you ask?”

“i don’t know,” you hum softly, leaning the side of your head on the couch as you look at him. “i feel like you’re quiet today.”

“just thinking baby,” he tells you, tightening his hold on your leg before looking your way. “how were classes today?”

“good, i have to start my essay soon,” you tell him, something uneasy still pulling at your stomach; you’re not used to san being quiet or so lost in thought, usually the only time he’s silent is during a new episode of your shows.

“you’ll do great on it,” he says encouragingly, the hand on your leg gently calmingly rubbing your skin up and down. “you’re doing really good, you know that?”

happiness fills you at the thought of making san proud, a small smile on your face that causes one his own to cross his face. his dimples poke out and it reminds you so much of your first meeting, when the sun reflected off of him and you just knew there was something too pure and good about this man.

“thank you,” you smile softly, a faint blush on your cheeks that has san’s heart breaking in his chest even more.

he doesn’t wanna have this conversation tonight but he thinks it would be the best time. bring up maybe not staying over every night to create some more space for you while also allowing you to be more independent. learning how to fill your time with things other than him.

but you’re so happy tonight.

you’ve been so happy these past few months and he doesn’t wanna be the person to ruin that; it seems, though, you can see something behind his eyes and in his demeanor already, your body wiggling closer to him as your gaze shifts nervously.

“are you sure you’re okay?”

he lets out a sigh and you can’t help the way your stomach drops, watching carefully as his face turns contemplative and torn. like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if you’re gonna be able to handle it.

and that alone is scaring the shit out of you.

the silence is probably only fifteen seconds but it feels like hours, your eyes staring wide and heart starting to race as you look at him; you don’t know what you did but you had to have done something, right? he wouldn’t just act like this out of nowhere.

“did i...do something wrong?” you ask meekly, that feeling of fear and panic you haven’t felt in almost a year creeping back. you almost forgot how debilitating this feeling is, fully consuming your body until you feel like you’re about to completely breakdown and crumble.

the fear and concern on your face immediately makes him frown, shaking his head adamantly as he pulls you closer to him.

“no, no, no, y/n, of course not,” he assures softly, his lips brushing against your head.

you feel his calming breaths in your hair, like he already knows from the slight waver in your voice and look on your face that you’re getting worked up and anxious.

the few moments of silence should make you more anxious but you can only focus on his breathing and the warmth from his body against you, trying to stay calm as you remember that this is san and he would never do or say anything to hurt you.

“i’ve just been thinking about some things and i wanna talk to you about it,” san says, breaking the silence and immediately making your stomach flip nervously. “it’s nothing bad, baby, i just... you know i always have your best interest in mind, right?”

you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you turn to look at him, the soft look in his eye making you happy as much as it makes you sad.

because while you love seeing it, how sweet and thoughtful and truly kind he is, you know it’s also there because he thinks you’re about to lose your shit. and you haven’t lost your shit in quite some time.

“i-i know...”

he takes your face in his hands when your eyes start to wander, the quiet hum leaving his mouth making you look up at him again. the look in his eyes truly stirs something in you, tears burning your eyes even though you’re not even sure why yet.

“and you know i’ll never, ever hurt you?”

you nod again, feeling panic deep within your chest at where this conversation seems to be going.

“so what i’m about to suggest, i need you to hear me out, okay?”

he waits until you nod, his stomach sinking at the glossed over look in your eyes before he daringly opens his mouth again.

tells you that he thinks you living on your own while you start a new chapter of your life will be a good thing for you both. that learning to be independent and on your own will help you immensely in this new part of your life.

“you’ve been doing so good, y/n, and i’m so proud of you. you’ve started school and you work full time and you’re doing all the things you want to do. but we’re together all the time, baby, and i...i don’t know if that’s healthy, for either of us, you know?”

and you think to the average person, who hasn’t been abused and neglected and spent the last five years in normal, healthy circumstances, they would hear this and understand immediately.

that being alone and learning how to be on your own is a good, healthy thing that everyone needs to experience.

but all your brain can hear is he doesn’t wanna be with you anymore.

he’s tired of your brokenness and tired of looking after you all the time and needs some space from you; and while, you suppose, you can’t blame him, it doesn’t hurt you any less.

it doesn’t terrify you or upset you any less, even though you know his intentions are good; you can only feel unwanted and unworthy and like your time with someone so much better than you is up.

“is it...i just...do you not like it here? with me?”

did you not keep it clean enough? did you not cook enough, were the meals too frequently takeout and leftovers? you remember jungkook hated that, demanding the house be spotless and dinner be ready and homemade.

san would laugh at the question if this weren’t the current situation, a serious talk he’s been dreading having because he knows how you’re gonna take it at first.

but he loves being here and that’s the problem.

he would coddle you and love you and protect you for as long as you let him if it were up to him. but he knows that’s not what you need anymore, that you’re both not helping anyone if you continue to live your life in what became too comfortable and safe.

you deserve comfortable and safe but you also deserve to live happily and freely by yourself. and maybe that’s not his decision to make, he often thinks, but he certainly doesn’t think he’s helping you by enabling you to depend on him.

“baby, i love it here and i love you and i’ll never leave you until you tell me to,” san says, pressing a kiss to each cheek he prays tears don’t fall on in the next few minutes. “but i want you to be okay, love. i don’t want you to need me every night to sleep or think you need to ask my permission for things that are your choice.”

“is that- is that what this is about? that i asked you if i could go to school?” you ask meekly, the idea of talking back foreign but something you can’t control right now. “or is it because i’m in school?”

because maybe you’ve been too busy. maybe he feels like you neglected him. maybe he just wanted an out and this is it.

“of course it’s not because you’re in school,” san says, slight outrage in his voice as you even suggest that; he always tries to control his responses to you, knowing you’re dealing with years worth of manipulative behavior and maltreatment, but sometimes it does also get to him.

he was always supportive of your career and education, even when you were just friends and he admired you from afar.

“how could you think that?”

“because this is so random,” you squeak out, tears breaking through as the knot in your throat grows bigger. “i...i didn’t even know you were feeling this way and now you wanna stop seeing me.”

“i don’t wanna stop seeing you, y/n, when did i say that?” san asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you contemplatively.

“you said you don’t want to be together all the time...” you mutter out, feeling stupid and childish but not yet truly understanding what he means. you guys don’t fight at all and you’re always smiling and laughing together - isn’t it okay to be together all the time if good things like that are happening?

“y/n, i love you, of course i wanna still see you. but i just mean...living together the way we have these past months. you’ve never been alone. you’ve always depended on someone, right?”

you think back to your dysfunctional childhood, depending on alcoholic parents who never taught you how to fend for yourself until you fell into the arms of yet another abuser who you depended on even further.

restricted company and meals and communication, even restricted in what you could do outside the walls of your house.

“yes,” you nod, sniffling as you wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “but they’ve only ever hurt me. you never do.”

that fact makes san’s chest pang with hurt, his own eyes burning with tears now as he thinks about how much pain you’ve endured.

“i know, baby, and i never will. but i think this’ll be good for us. good for you, mostly, that’s always my mian concern.”

but you start to wonder how this could possibly be good the second the front door closes a few hours later, leaving you alone in your apartment that now feels far too cold and far too dark and far too empty.

his lack of presence is noticable immediately and it doesn’t take long for panic and sadness and all that existential dread you once felt so deeply start to come on.

he doesn’t want you, nobody wants you, and the only people who did want you hurt you.

it’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you cry silently, splashing your face with cold water after your puffy eyes can’t take it anymore. and when you get a good look at yourself in the mirror, tear-stained and blotchy and a big fucking mess, you can’t help but see that same girl who was trapped in that house with jungkook.

weak and afraid and horribly incapable of doing anything right. so similiar to the current state you’re in now, sinking down on the bathroom floor and crying into your hands again.

this could be about san leaving, you know it has something to do with it, but you’re also crying because you now see just how badly you’re still effected by everything.

you could be distracted by school and work and san but there’s still so much under the surface that you haven’t come to terms with.

so much so to the point that even san had to step in and do something about it, him still seeing signs that you’re not okay despite how much everyone in your life is trying with you.

and it makes you feel bad that you have so many supportive, lovely people in your life but still can’t find it in you to feel okay. to not depend on one singlar blonde man to make you feel happy or act as if without him, you’re gonna break.

because you can see he’s tired of it. if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have-

“y/n?”

his voice coupled with his fist hitting the door causes you to jump, at first thinking it’s a bittersweet trick your deluded little mind is playing on you. but then he knocks again, his sweet murmur of “y/n, please open the door,” causing you to cry out again.

hongjoong told him not to go, that he’d barely been home for an hour before he was already itching to rush back to you.

but he felt uneasy leaving the way he did in the first place, and then even more so when you didn’t answer his three messages and two facetime calls; he hated thinking that you were crying alone or feeling upset.

and it’s heartbreakingly evident when you reach up to open the door, curled up on the floor in tears, that that’s exactly how you feel.

“baby, no,” san hums lowly, immediately dropping to the floor so he can gather you in his lap.

it’s so much like the scene when you ran there after the final incident with jungkook, when you collapsed on the floor and finally told somebody about what you’d been going through.

what happened?" he asks desperately, voice strained and wavering.

but you can only shake your head and cry. cry for how long you've been dealing with this alone and how you feel trapped and how if you don't tell someone tonight.

"he's gonna kill me," you sob out as you shake your head frantically now, "i-i he's gonna kill me," is all you can repeat through ragged breaths.

san can only act on instinct, sitting down cross-legged and holding his arms out slightly before you crash into him. he shakily inhales when your head rests on his shoulder, sobs muffled by his shirt as he feels tears promptly soak through the material.

but he can only sit there, hand on the back of your head as he rocks you soothingly in his lap back and forth.

he listens to your sobs with a broken heart, tears stinging his own eyes because he had suspected something was going on for months and just sat here and did nothing. and now here you are, broken and bruised and in fear for your life.

"i can't go back there," you cry out, "i-he's gonna-"

"no one is gonna hurt you, anymore," he mumbles lowly in your ear, "i'm not gonna let that happen."

“you’re- you’re gonna leave me,” you whimper into his shirt, the only sound in your bathroom for the past few minuets your crying and his soothing hums. “you’re not gonna wanna deal with me anymore and leave and then i’ll really be alone and i’m so-”

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m not gonna let that happen,” he mumbles in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses his lips to your head. he rocks you back and forth so similarly to that night, his hand running up and down your back as he tries to get you to calm down.

“we’re gonna get you help. real help. and we’ll all be here for you whenever you need us. you’re gonna be okay, my love.”

one year later:

you look back at the breakdown in your bathroom and are always surprised that you don’t feel embarrassed.

you think that was the moment when you finally realized how much you’d gone through and how much you really had to sort through. that you could distract yourself all you want and depend on san as much as you felt you needed but you still had things to work through.

it took you about four therapist consultations to find the right one, eventually finding a sweet older woman who reminded you so much of your boss at the cafe. she listened to you and encouraged you and helped you find so much strength within yourself, you regret not taking your lawyer’s advice sooner about seeing a professional.

you still had bad days, of course, but now you’ve learned how to properly cope with them. cope with the stressors of everyday life, like the shouting of voices and the slamming of doors and san not being by your side 24/7.

and san, little to your surprise, had done the right thing in saying you needed to learn to be independent.

it scared you at first, living alone and being alone with your thoughts and memories that tried to haunt you every chance they got. but now your life is so full of happy ones that it makes everything a little bit easier; you now love the freedom of living alone and have come to enjoy the peaceful silences of your apartment.

you now have so many things to laugh and feel happy about, like mingi and seonghwa’s obsession with gardening (even though they’ve moved on to vegetables now and have yet to combat the battle with squirrels eating their tomatoes).

you have school and classes and friends that you made, making straight a’s while also balancing time with your study group, the boys and mrs. kim and your official boyfriend san.

there are still some days when you wake up and feel a sinking feeling in your stomach that you think might be there forever, a certain smell or certain pain richoetting through your body that will remind you of what you went through and survived.

but you know that you’ll be able to get through it, not only because you’re strong enough now but because you still have san to lean on - the boy in question currently with his arms wrapped tight around your waist and snoring down your neck.

you can’t help the small smile on your face as you turn in his hold, your finger reaching out to trace the contours of his face.

the warm, overwhelming feeling in your chest should scare you but it makes you feel even more happy and content with life, shutting your eyes immediately when his brown eyes meet yours.

his loud chuckle fills the room before he lips attack your neck, quiet giggles leaving your mouth that only spur the blonde on more.

“i saw that,” he mumbles playfully, smiling against your skin as your giggles get louder. “good morning, baby.”

you pull back and smile at the boy staring down at you lovingly, the late-morning sun beaming through your window reminding you so much of the first time you saw him.

heard his sweet, friendly voice that you immediately trusted and probably fell in love with right there.

"those are coming out really nice!" you hear a voice say from the yard next door.

you shoot your head to the side to see a young man standing there, probably about your age, eyes kind and dimples poking out of his cheeks as he holds an overflowing white garbage bag.

your lips quirk up ever so slightly, probably being mistaken for your mouth twitching before you give him a tiny bow.

"thank you."

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @minbinwhore @chrryhwa @chogiout @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa

#the italic flashbacks always get messed up on mobile!!!#srry hope its not confusing #san #san angst #san fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #san scenarios #ateez imagines #san imagines

845 notes · View notes

marsbutterfly · 3 years ago

Text

Skyfall

Summary: When you are hired to kill the most dangerous mafia boss, things get a little complicated.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

|◁ II ▷|

“This is the end

Hold your breath and count to ten

Feel the Earth move and then

Hear my heart burst again”

7:34pm

The clock on your wrist tics quietly but in the silent room, it nearly sounds like bombs being dropped from above. Not a word is exchanged between you and the man sitting across the room but you know exactly what he wants.

In his hand rests a dark colored suitcase, you can barely tell until the light hits his belt ever so gently but you finally see the gun he’s been carrying.

You take a deep breath, getting up for your seat. The sound of your heels clicking on the floor fills the atmosphere as you walk towards him, the smirk on his lips is undeniable and you don’t understand what he has to be smiling about.

He stands up a second after you and walks in your direction, bumping against you and dropping his suitcase and the papers in his hand. In response, you throw on the floor the suitcase you once held.

The man apologizes profoundly as you help him collect the papers on the floor. You say over and over that it is ok, while all the curious eyes in the room land on you. As you stand up, you hand him the suitcase you once had in your hand and he nods, thanking you for the help and apologizing one last time.

You begin to make your way back to your car, the smirk on his lips still engraved in your brain as a chill travels down your spine. “Why was he smiling?” You ask yourself not wanting to admit it but you are a bit scared of knowing the answer.

Though once you open the suitcase, you understand why. Inside, rests the pictures and information of your next target, the millionaire leader of an enemy gang. Though you don’t enjoy taking sides, you’ve been paid a large amount of money to take her out, more than you have ever made.

The war between these two gangs has been going on for the longest time and you have killed enough people on both sides to earn a fair amount of enemies, but this time you couldn’t help but feel a sinking hole opening in your heart.

Hanji Zoe has always been the deadliest member of the underground group. Her kill count is even higher than yours, at least 500+ heads under her belt. They say her torture methods surpass even the ones they use in hell.

She’s known as the Devil herself.

“For this is the end

I've drowned and dreamt this moment

So overdue, I owe them

Swept away, I'm stolen”

8:15pm

Your keys unlock the heavy doors of your house and somehow the marble floors feel colder than ever. Your shoes rest in their designated spot by the coat holder and you throw the suitcase on the couch.

Two cups rest on the counter near the bar area inside your home. One of them contains what you assume is whisky, due to the color and the amount of ice in the cup, it has always been her favorite after a work day.

The lipstick marks are fresh meaning she has just now gotten home. Upon paying closer attention, you realize the shower is on and steam is coming out of the bathroom. You think about joining her but ultimately decide to have a drink first, trying to forget about your next target.

Gently, you take two rocks of ice and place them in the clean cup specifically placed out for you. Pouring yourself a single shot of whisky, you walk towards the balcony feeling as the cold air of the night hits your face.

You knew this day would come but you hoped it would take longer.

Deep in your own thoughts, you don’t realize the water has been turned off in the bathroom and wet footsteps approach your body.

It’s not until her wet arms wrap around your black dress that you realize you are no longer alone. Her face is buried in your back and you can see steam leaving her arms as the hair on her skin stands up.

The tattoo of your initials on her hand still brings butterflies to your stomach. The memory of the night she got it is still one of your favorite moments you spent together, especially since it was after your first date and she told you she knew you were the one.

“I missed you.” She says, placing a kiss on your skin. You can feel as her breasts are pressed against you and a gasp leaves your body.

“I missed you too.” You reply, a disobedient tear rolling down your face as you chug the contents of the cup in your hand.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, placing her hand on your waist as she turns your body around so you can face her. She is a few inches taller, nothing too extreme but enough to make you look up at her gently.

Her thumb brushes the tear on your cheek before rubbing it above your lips. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to tell her the news you just received.

“You are my next target.” You say and Hanji nods, a sad smirk on her lips.

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together”

9:00pm

The brush goes through her hair with ease for the first time, as if she took care of the tangles in the shower already knowing what the news you were bringing would be. After shower moments were the ones where Hanji was the most vulnerable.

She would simply close her eyes and appreciate the attention she’s been given as she fades in the echo of your voice. You hum a melody quietly, Hanji’s favorite song in the hopes to bring her any comfort at all.

Your tears drip down your nose onto her scalp as you put her hair in a ponytail, attempting to help her get ready for the party she will be attending in an hour. At the highest floor of the second tallest building in the entire city.

“How are you going to do it?” She asks, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke up in the air while trying to make rings out of it. You giggle, touching her shoulders before sliding your hands down her arms.

You notice the goosebumps rising on her skin and can’t help but smile at how she reacts to your touch. “Must we talk about it?”

“I need to know.” She replies and you nod, sighing heavily while finally agreeing to talk about the elephant in the room.

“I’ll be on the roof of the Paradise building. I am pretty sure they will send someone to watch me do it.” You begin, spraying the bottle of perfume around her and noticing as the drops of liquid fall on her tan skin, masking the smell of the cigarette.

“But they might not.” She says and you shrug your shoulders.

“They might not.” You say quietly.

“I wouldn’t expect any less from this city’s top 1 assassin.” She says, taking your hand in hers and planting a soft kiss on your palm, leaving behind the red mark of her deep colored lipstick.

She stands up, allowing the robe to fall to the floor and reveal her naked body. You can’t look away from the perfect shape of her breasts, the line that goes through her abdomen from a previous surgery and all of her battle scars.

“Make me yours one last time.” You say, pulling your shirt above her head as you expose yourself to her and she nods, a devious smile curling up on her lips.

You see a few old bullet wounds, some healed while others are still healing. Every single one of them tells a story about who she is and how she has lived her life but your favorite story has always been the one of how she lost her eye.

It was three years ago, the day you met. How could you ever forget?

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

Since you were a teenager, you’ve been good at killing. First your shitty parents and every family member who sided with them, including your own brother and sister. Finally being able to control your life, you decided to make a living out of it.

This career put you through college where you earned a chemistry degree, learning how to mix your personal kinds of poison, some of which no one has ever even heard of which makes it hard for the police to find who was responsible for it.

At first, you would go for basic targets: rapists, animal abusers, anyone who dared hurt another soul but word got out of how excellent and quick you were at your job and your number of clients tripled and your name was in everyone’s mouth.

One day, you got a call from a blocked russian number. A smile creeped on your lips as you heard a familiar voice over the phone, Erwin Smith. The man who gave you a chance to grow in this life and made you who you are today, your mentor.

“Y/N, I’m dying.” He says, his voice is faint and you notice his life force is fading away.

“I can tell.” You reply trying to lighten the mood and he laughs.

“Will you still work for the next boss?” He asks, coughing out a liquid which you could only assume was blood.

“If that is your dying wish.” You respond and he hums in agreement over the phone, “Then yes.”

Later that week, two men showed up to your house to escort you to Erwin’s funeral. The rain poured over his coffin, hiding away the tears of those who loved him.

Surrounded by at least five men sat a woman in a black coat, her eyes looking in your direction as she took the cigarette to her lips. The tattoos on her leg on display for anyone to see, you could’ve sworn she was silently flirting with you.

And in a moment of weakness, a car drove by shooting up the place completely. Of course they were received with a buffet of bullets as well, but nearly a third of the people around the casket were now dead.

As a bullet makes its way towards you, the brunette with danger in her eyes rushes forward to protect you only to receive the bullet with a glass platter. Needless to say, an uncountable amount of shards found their way into her eyeball.

While she bled in your arms, you tried to make sure she remained awake.

“What’s your name?” You ask and she smiles, bringing your hand towards her lips and licking your thumb with a palpable sexual energy.

“Hanji. Hanji Zoe.” She replied, “The new boss.”

“Skyfall is where we start

A thousand miles and poles apart

Where worlds collide and days are dark

You may have my number, you can take my name

But you'll never have my heart”

10:05pm

Once you are finished redoing Hanji’s hair, she stares at the closet before finally picking out a blood colored suit. No shirt underneath, she places the blazer right above her nipples, only enough to cover them while allowing the rest of her breasts to be exposed.

You on the other hand plan to dress yourself in a completely black outfit hoping to blend into the darkness of the night. Luck was on your side for there were no stars to brighten the sky, allowing you to take complete cover.

As far as you know, nobody is aware of your relationship with Hanji, not even her subordinates. Keeping business away from your private life has always been a priority, even before you committed your first paid killing.

She places a final kiss on your hands and one of your lips, though it does not feel like a goodbye and you sadly accept any kind of comfort you can find.

When her car is out of view, you decide to go up and take a shower by yourself. You wanted to decline this job, to throw everything away: your reputation, the money and simply run away with Hanji to a place where you could live your lives.

But you can’t. Before even knowing who your targets are, you are always made to sign a consent form and if broken, it would cost you your life.

The warm water hits your face and you can still smell Hanji’s strawberry shampoo in the air mixed with the fading smoke of her cigarettes. You begin to remember every shower you spent together, every kiss you shared at the most exquisite places around the world.

Hanji always knew how to make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Eventually, you can no longer if the water streaming down your face comes from the shower or your tears.

As you finish your shower, you begin to get ready. The black outfit had never been colder and the unsettling feeling at the pit of your stomach still remains. While putting a mask above your face, you look at your rifle.

It has your initials and Hanji’s secretly carved on the side and on the other it has the date you started dating. A good luck charm, as she liked to call it.

Tonight will be a fucking awful night.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

1:53am

Hours have passed since you've been sitting at the top of this building by yourself, looking through the binoculars at the party happening not too far away. In the end, they decided not to send anyone to watch over your shoulder as you do your job.

The richest and most powerful people in town were all attending and, even though they wore masks, you could still tell exactly who they were. The years of analyzing and recognizing targets from afar has given you the extraordinary ability to identify covered faces.

By the bar, you see her as she rests her arm on the glass top. She looks beautiful. Her whiskey brown eyes match the liquid in her cup as the black mask covers her features. For a second, you could’ve sworn she looked directly at you.

The instructions were clear: at 2am, a single bullet should be shot directly to her head, killing her instantly. So you position your gun, looking through the lense as Hanji disappears in the crowd for a bit before returning to her usual spot.

You sigh, stopping the tears that attempt to cloud your vision. Your finger slowly moves towards the trigger, as if time itself is desperately trying to stop you from killing your loved one, but it doesn’t matter. No one could stop you now.

Counting the seconds, you make sure the shot to her head is clear and you pray she won’t suffer at all. “Goodbye, my love.”

Time nearly stops once you pull the trigger. You watch closely as the bullet goes through her brain and blood splatters across the clear counter causing every person in the room to desperately run for their lives, not knowing they are all safe.

Only one man stands in the room and he raises his glass at you for he is the only one who knows no more shots will be fired. The asshole who hired you to kill the love of your life. Fucking Zeke Yeager.

With every ounce of your body, you decide that killing him isn’t worth it. He deserves to live to suffer in the future.

You bring your body back up, beginning to disassemble your rifle. It takes you less than a minute to be on your way and you can hear as police sirens approach the building in front of you.

“Where you go, I go

What you see, I see

I know I'd never be me

Without the security

Of your loving arms

Keeping me from harm

Put your hand in my hand

And we'll stand”

Finally getting back to your house, you throw the bag containing the gun on the couch before plopping your body right beside it, a long sigh escaping your lips.

Your eyes then notice the packed bags, all ready to leave as soon as possible. The clicking of heels comes from the other side of the house and you smirk, rushing your thumb through your lips.

“I feel bad for the lady you hired to die in your place.” You say, turning around and propping your chin on the back of the couch.

“Would you prefer if I had died in her place?” Hanji asks, rushing her hand through her freshly shaved head in an attempt to get rid of any hairs that still remain attached to her.

“Of course not, love.” You reply, walking towards her before taking the glass of wine from her free hand.

“Hanji Zoe is dead and the witness to it is Zeke Yeager himself.” She says, a devious smile on her lips.

You can’t help but link your mouth with hers, tasting the delightful mixture of alcohols she has had tonight. Her hands travel through your body, exploring every inch of your skin before gently brushing against your inner thigh.

You gasp gently, nearly melting in response to her actions. God knows you want to melt but you don’t have time.

“It’s 4:25am, the plane leaves in 35 minutes so we should go.” She says and you nod.

You grab one of the packed bags plus your rifle and she grabs the rest before extending her hand to you, hoping to walk away from this life with you by her side but not before staging your own kidnapping and death, everything so no one would ever look for either of you.

Once done with arrangements, she smiles.

“So where are we going to make our new home?” You ask.

“My home is wherever you are.” She replies and you feel your cheeks getting warm before she continues, “But I was planning the Carribeans.”

“Fuck yes.” Is all you say and she laughs, squeezing your hand as you both say goodbye to the apartment you’ve shared for years. Leaving behind a life of danger to live together in the house of your dreams, far away from all the negativity.

Just you and Hanji. And maybe a few cats and dogs along the way.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

74 notes · View notes

theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years ago

Text

A Reading: Part 9 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Witch Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death, implied past abusive parents,

Word Count: 2.7k

Trying to finish a spell when Paul was around was proving to be difficult. You and David had already gone over everything once with eachother, and then again with the others. What you'd told Mr. Emerson and Mrs. Johnson, what you were going to do, and a few ideas as to how to do it. Really, letting them have Max wasn't going to be difficult. They just didn't have to get in Mr. Emerson's way, and he needed to do it before Lucy could be turned. If anything, the ball was in his court.

The only thing that was an issue was whether or not they'd go back on their word. The boys could let the Emerson's do what they needed, but how could they trust they'd listen to your logic and not come stake them during the day? Plus, your deal with them had put them in a semi-undesireable situation. Sure, the boys didn't really want to leave, but now they were being forced to stay. If only for the sake of holding onto the territory. So, they didn't have the luxury of leaving town to put distance between them and the Emerson's, and it wasn't like they didn't know already where they lived. That's where you came in.

It's why you were warding the entire front room. You'd gone with David to get your trailer and driven it to the top of Hudson's Bluff. They'd assured you no one would touch it, and you'd emptied anything that you'd really wanted to keep. And anything you would need to protect the boys. You'd done most of the big spells already. Made it so no one would see the entrance, done some warding to make them confused and turn back, and you were even considering making a spell that only allowed those that were invited to enter. You'd grinned when you suggested it to David, but he didn't find the subtle joke nearly as entertaining. Or, at least, he didn't show it.

You were sitting on the floor, trying to put up some minor alarms, but Paul had wrapped his arms tightly around you waist as he sat behind you. He was nosing at your neck, his cold lips and stubble making you ticklish. When you tried to pull away, letting out a soft noise at the feeling, Paul only responded by rubbing his cheek against your skin and tickling you further. You squeaked, reaching around to swat at him and turning to look at him. Quickly, you said,

"Stop it. I'm trying to focus." But your words were hardly firm. He was smiling at you. A curl of his lips that lit up his face. He moved closer, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

"You've been focusing for hours." He said, a whine in his voice. You tried to suppress your smile, but it was hard. It hadn't been hours, but it hadn't just been a few minutes either. Paul was clearly the most needy out of the boys. He always needed something to do, someone to bother. And it seemed that the others had been taking turns for years, so they were more than eager to leave you stranded with him.

"Do you wanna be safe or not?" You asked, having finished tying up a knot. Paul huffed at that, pulling you closer to his chest. After a second of silence, he slowly began to rock the two of you from side to side. It seemed he could either stay still or stay quiet. Both wasn't an option. You turned around to give him a look, and he let out another huff.

"We'll be fine. We got a super hot witch to protect us." He said, and you could already hear that the smile had returned to his face. You rolled your eyes, turning so you could flick him in the forehead. He gave you a pout, quickly saying, "That wasn't nice. Kiss it better." And it earned a laugh from you. Though, the blonde didn't stop pouting until you did.

"There." You said, half turned around in his arms. He gave you a grin afterwards, cupping your chin with one of his hands and drawing you in to meld his mouth over yours. You let out a giggle, humming and pressing closer to the slide of his lips against yours. Your hand came up to wrap around his shoulder, holding him close. It was just a short slide of your lips, and a peck to both sides of his mouth afterwards, but Paul was hesitant to let you escape. He kept drawing you back in, even if the kiss was chaste and left him only wanting more. You pressed kisses to his cheek, reaching up to hold his face so you could turn it. He'd let his eyes close, giggling softly as you kissed him all over before pressing another short, sweet kiss to his lips. "Now, you have to let me work, okay?" You told him, cupping both of his cheeks. He nodded, a smile still on his face and his eyes slowly opening. You turned back around, content to finish you work, and Paul cuddled as close to your back as he could.

When you were officially done, Dwayne was forcing you to eat. Truthfully, you'd forgotten. So much had been on your mind, you hadn't even realized that you were hungry. You knew Marko was going out, vaguely remembered him asking you what type of food you liked, and you hadn't connected the dots before the brunette was pulling you up from your spot on the gravel, detaching you from Paul in the process, and insisting you eat some of the takeout they'd gotten.

He sat besides you on the couch, if not to just make sure that Paul didn't distract you. Marko passed you a water bottle as well, kicking Paul's leg to make him scoot over so he could steal the spot on your other side. Paul was reluctant, but scooted nonetheless until he was sitting on the arm of the couch. He and Marko were bickering, throwing comments back and forth while Markos arm went around your shoulders. Dwayne placed a hand on your thigh, one that was too high to be suggestive. You looked over at him, giving him a shy smile. He gave a small one back. You and the boys had relaxed. While you weren't out of the woods yet, the small comfort of momentary safety was too good to deny. David was already sitting in his chair, and looked as though he was about to start talking. Whatever he was going to say died on his lips, and you watched as he reached for his chest.

Silence cut though the room, and you quickly looked around. Each of the boys had a strange look on their face, a mix of pain and realization, and they'd each fallen suddenly silent. It took them a moment to shake it off, with Paul being the first to do so. He quite literally shook his head, rubbing at a spot over his chest before he said,

"Huh." You gave him a quizzical look, seeing that the rest of the boys seemed to be slowly recovering as well. At first, your mind had gone to the worst. That Mrs. Johnson had decided to go back on her word and do something to hurt them. You still didn't know what happened, but, before you could ask, David said,

"I guess Max just dropped Lucy back to her house." And you didn't have to guess what had happened after that.

***

The boys were quiet, the feeling of peace and calm having left. You didn't know what had replaced it, or if it had been even replaced at all. The boys seemed to be going through the motions, trying to adjust. They weren't quite empty or hollow, but a piece of their lives was gone. They seemed shocked, like they'd expected more. You'd expected more. After everything over the past couple of days, you expected something dramatic. Maybe the boys would even be tasked in helping with their sires demise. From what you knew, they might not have minded. You'd expected to have to do more. But, it'd been taken care of. Fate had followed its predetermined path, with or without the boys. It was a little underwhelming to say the least.

Still, you had seen the looks on their faces when it happened. The feeling of their sire dying, of their sire suddenly being gone. You had gotten a little information about him out of David, and you imagined that it was like someone had suddenly cut the strings off of a puppet. At first, none of them knew what to do.

The first day, no one had come. You'd stayed up, kept your alarms wound tight, but not a soul had come even close to the entrance of their cave. And when they awoke for the night, the four of them were tugging you along. They drove to a house in the suburbs, one that was bigger and nicer than the other witch's. They undid the gate, and David led them up to the door. David, out of habit, went to toss his half finished cigarette. It took him a second, the second after he pulled it out of his mouth, for him to realize that Max wasn't there. He wasn't going to say anything if David smoked, especially if he smoked in the house. David put it back between his teeth, and reached for a key hidden under a plant.

When they opened the door, you jumped when you heard the barking. You moved behind Marko, who was holding up the back of the line. He laughed and gave you a smile, putting an arm around your waist to keep you from running too far.

"It's just Thorn." He said, and he slithered through the rest of his brothers to get on one knee and greet the dog. But, as you stared at the white beast, you knew that wasn't just a dog. Hellhound. It screamed, especially when it seemed to only be growling at you. "Hey, bud." Marko said, scratching the dog behind its ears. "She's a friend of ours, don't worry about her. You were probably here alone all day, huh?" Marko said, and it almost as if he sounded a little bad for the beast. You were wary around the hellhound, but Paul was intertwining his hand in yours and tugging you forward.

The house was nice. Really nice. It was a staple of 80s taste, with artwork hanging off the walls, a jukebox in one corner, and all different kinds of light fixtures over the walls. You looked around again, wondering just what kind of man, vampire, Max had been. Even though you were sure the boys had heard you, none of them seemed to care to answer. As you looked around more and more, you saw how odd it was to have the boys standing inside of it. Everything seemed purposely placed, if not a little empty in some spaces. The only thing that didn't seem to fit inside was the boys themselves.

Marko was leading Thorn to the kitchen, presumably to feed him. Paul let go of your hand to hop over the couch, landing on it with a huff. He laughed to himself, reaching for one of the perfectly arranged magazines and flipping through it. Dwayne stopped in the living room, looking around for a moment. His eyes and face were unreadable, but you watched as he reached into his own coat pocket. He pulled out a cigarette, and you watched as he lit it. Dwayne wasn't the chimney that David was, and seemed to only smoke occasionally. Suddenly, it became hard to look at him, realizing he must've been having a moment to himself. Quickly, you looked to David. He had paused just the same to look around, but, when he caught your eye, he flicked his hand to motion you to follow him.

You did, following the flutter of his black trenchcoat as he led you through the house. He went to what you assumed was Max's office, and went to one of his bookshelves. He grabbed one of the books, pulling it, and you watched as a fake line of books opened to reveal a safe. David didn't need to look to find a combination, as he seemed to have it memorized, and pulled out whatever documents you must've come for. You stood besides him, looking over his shoulder to see that Max had written a will. You arched a brow, and then looked up at David. He didn't say a word, just pulled the cigarette from his lips to let out an exhale of smoke. You tried not to think about whether it was intentional that he'd blown it right at the will.

David ripped it open and pulled the document out. You watched as he read, and David let out another long gust of smoke. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, and extinguished it on the document. Under his breath, he muttered,

"Dick." And passed the documents to you to hold as he passed by you. You opened your mouth, but David was already half-way back down the way you'd came. You looked down at the document, figuring David wouldn't have given it to you if he cared whether you read it or not. You looked down at the bottom, where it detailed who would get his possessions. You furrowed your brows, wondering why David's reaction had been so adverse. As far as you could tell, Max had left them everything.

You went downstairs with the document in hand, and only caught the tail-end of their conversation. To your surprise, Paul said,

"Fucking dick." As he sat up. He threw the magazine to the side, and you gave them each a confused glance. Marko was sitting on the couch, having dug into Max's pantry and taken a bag of chips, and you watched as Paul yanked it from him. You honestly didn't understand why they were upset, but you were almost too afraid to ask.

"It's 'cause," Marko paused to pick at his teeth. "He knew how we felt about all this shit. We told him time and time again that we didn't want it and now-" He stopped himself, gesturing to the room. He didn't have to fill in the blanks for you to know what he meant. Now, they had to take care of it.

"It's his last attempt to get us to do what he wanted." Dwayne said, and your eyes flicked to him. He ripped the cigarette from his lips, throwing it to the floor and crushing it under his shoe. "Take care of the store, live in his house, make something of ourselves. His capitalist dream." He continued, and you could see the frustration in his brow. From what you knew, Max seemed like a tyrant of a father figure. You approached him slowly, taking his hand in your own and giving it a squeeze. He glanced over at you for a moment, before he sighed and eased up on the cigarette he was trying to grind into the floor. David added,

"It's why he wanted Lucy. Figured he could make us listen if we had a mom." David said, and you could hear the resentment in his voice. You looked at all of them. They seemed to be simmering, half-way towards boiling and spilling over. So, with the will in one hand and Dwaynes hand in the other, you said,

"Fuck him." And the boys looked at you in surprise. Those words had definitely caught their attention. "He's dead, you're not. So what? Either you guys are loaded now or you can burn this will and forget about it." The second you suggested it, most of the boys seemed to prefer the latter. But, still, the life hadn't truly returned to them. You thought for a moment, trying to think of something that would truly lift their spirits. It only took a second before you said, "Either way, nothing's gonna change. Not unless you want it to." And that seemed to be the best thing you could say to the group of vampires.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys x reader

273 notes · View notes

allegedlyanandroid · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! For the fic prompts! Can I got a 900Gavin A/B/O fic about alpha!RK900 who try to bite Omega!Gavin scent glands when they first meet because RK900 didn't have a social program but have only a primal instinct program? Could pls keep it fluff and light,plssss? 🥺 I read too many dark fics but if it couldn't then it ok too.

I took some artistic liberties with this one and made Gavin a bounty hunter for the sole purpose that I couldn’t figure out a good reason as to why Fowler would assign them as partners if Nines tried to take a bite out of him on first meeting. I mean... who can blame him though? Gavin is a snacc. Did I think to much into it? Yes, definitely. Either way, I hope you like it @therainnight, fingers crossed that it has an okay ratio of fluff in it <3

There’s nothing to suggest he’s being followed, no out-of-the-ordinary sounds, no footsteps, no nothing. Doesn’t matter. Gavin has always had good instincts and right now they’re telling him that something, or someone, is stalking him. Glancing as far behind himself as he can through his peripheral vision means he catches the glimpse of movement before it’s too late. Gavin whirls around just as he’s pushed backwards against a tree and the impact is enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

A forearm keeps him pressed against it while he stares uncomprehending at razor-sharp teeth set in a half-finished face.

‘Oh, hell no,’ is what comes to mind and it’s through pure instinctive reaction that he manages to get a hand up between them and shove it as far into the android’s mouth as he can ‒ quick enough to keep it from sinking its teeth into the glands in his neck. He’d rather lose a few fingers than be bond-mated on first meeting like some omega bride in the twentieth century. His other hand is still free so he ignores the glowing eyes peering into his soul, and the curious gnawing over the digits he unceremoniously shoved in the android’s mouth, in order to find the glowing circle in the middle of its chest. Digging his fingers into the minute crack the thirium pump regulator slides into his hand with a muted hiss, strangely warm and disgustingly slick with thirium.

The android yelps, scrambling backwards, and releases Gavin’s saliva-slick hand as it falls down in a crouch. It stares desperately at the cylinder held aloft in the air. It jolts forward when Gavin squeezes it between claw-tipped fingers until it threatens to bend under the strain and render it useless, eyes are wide and sorrowful, the glow in them sapping away with every passing second. Gavin nearly feels bad for it.

“Why are you following me?!” he demands to know, pushing the thought aside.

It doesn’t answer, shifting in place as it continues to stare at him.

“You can have this back if you tell me.” Half-truths. The android merely curls in on itself, pressing the palm of its hand against its own throat. It mouths something but the dark plating making up the lower part of his face makes it impossible to see what. Then it clicks. “You can’t talk?”

It nods.

Maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the droid looks anything but finished. Gavin can see parts of its biocomponents pulsing a subdued red behind clear panelling mixed in with sleek metal in a colour so dark it’s nearly void. The upper part of its face has synthskin, including his upper lip, but everything below is made of the same black material. Its ears nearly blend into the raven hair on its head and Gavin can’t find it in himself to be angry at it. Clearly, it’s a lost ‒ and potentially broken ‒ thing. Not unlike himself.

Gavin tosses the regulator in the android’s direction and marches on. He has a job to do after all and tracking only gets harder the longer he dawdles. Almost immediately the feeling returns and he groans out loud. The time-limit forces him to keep moving regardless of his silent companion. His target already has a two-day head start and the moment Weiss crosses the border into Canada Gavin can’t do jack-shit to him. He jerks the rifle higher on his back and continues to follow the scent of old blood laid into the earth. Evidently the bastard isn’t worried about being followed so much as setting a fast pace despite his injuries.

When night begins to fall, the shadows lengthening around him, Gavin reluctantly sets up camp. There’s maybe another two days before he catches up and seeing as they’re about a three day’s march from the border he’ll be cutting it close.

The area he finds is partly protected from the elements and close to a stream of trickling water. “I know you’re there,” he calls while rummaging around his supplies to find kindling. There’s a rustle of the underbrush to his left and the hulking mess of an android appears at the edge of camp. It looks hesitant, almost skittish, where it stands. It makes little sense given how bulky the ‘droid is and how aggressive it behaved earlier. Clearly it should be able to hold its own going off design alone. Gavin returns to ignoring it after a last wary glance and swears beneath his breath when the wood won’t catch flame.

The android shifts into his line of sight and approaches slowly, like one would a vicious or scared animal. It stops again and gestures to the attempted fire, tilting its head in question. Gavin sighs. “Sure, why not,” he shrugs. “‘s not like you can do a worse job.”

Despite the less-than-friendly tone, the android visibly perks up. Gavin watches as it rearranges the collected wood with meticulous focus before stripping one of its fingers of plating and snapping off a few wires. The resulting electric sparks is what it uses to light the kindling. The fire slowly spreads over bark and wood until they’re engulfed by flames, cracking and popping in the still evening. Satisfied, it prods at the still-sparking wires with a finger, completely transfixed by the reds, oranges and yellows found in the flickering fire.

Gavin offers a crooked grin in thanks. “Wonders of technology. You need any help with that?”

The android shakes its head no, poking the wires back in place, before clicking the plating back where it belongs. It looks to be smiling slightly as it reluctantly gathers itself up to leave.

Gavin stops it with a hand on its wrist.

“You can stay.”

It’s basic human decency Gavin tells himself when he watches the android shuffle closer to the flames, hands outstretched as if to absorb its warmth. With the light’s help he can just about make out the serial-number etched into its chassis right over its thirium pump. “RK900, “ Gavin reads, “-that’s not one I’ve heard of before.” The droid turns to him and holds up one finger, turning it afterwards to point at himself. Gavin hums. “One of a kind then. I can relate to that.”

The android slides closer, looking up with a soft “go-on” like gesture that Gavin is helpless to resist.

He wakes up the next morning feeling as if everything has tilted slightly to the left and groggily gets himself ready for the day, rolling up his sleeping bag and kicking dirt over the fire’s embers, while RK stares at him with intrigue. They begin the trek not long after with Gavin wolfing down a protein bar in lieu of breakfast. RK frowns at him then, his brows furrowed severely, but it quickly turns to confusion when Gavin sticks his tongue out at him and picks up the pace. While they walk, he contemplates when in the previous evening he began referring to RK as “he” instead of “it”. There’s no doubt that the android is alive, for lack of a better term, animated and interested and latching onto every word of Gavin’s tales the way he used to do himself when he was younger and less jaded.

Gavin, lost in thought, doesn’t notice RK disappearing for a moment. His return is difficult to miss though since he presents him with a perfectly symmetrical trientalis europaea, its yellow core surrounded by seven white petals. A stark contrast to the black hands cupping it; delicate fragility resting in palms simply not made for such sweet blossoms. There’s excitement radiating off him, nestled in his glowing eyes, which doubles when Gavin asks: “Is that for me?”

The nod is quick as RK moves his hands an inch closer. Gavin takes it with a soft “thank you.” He looks at it for a moment longer and then takes his notebook from his inner pocket to place the flower there, snapping it shut and tying it with twine to really press flat. RK preens, turning his gaze bashfully to the forest floor, while Gavin pretends his cheeks aren’t flushed red.

When at last it comes time to make camp Gavin is pleased with their progress. “The scent of blood is more prominent. Even if he’s on scent blockers I can pick up smoke from the campfire. We’re getting close.”

His statement prompts an explanation about the reason he’s in the woods to begin with. The concern he shows upon hearing of Gavin’s chosen field of work is quickly dismissed with a: “I managed to bring you down, didn’t I?” which RK’s lips twitch at. He settles even closer to Gavin today, surreptitiously scenting the air between them, until Gavin asks him about it point-blank.

‘You smell nice,’ RK writes out on a torn-out page in Gavin’s book. ‘It’s what drew me in.’

“I smell like fuck-all while on blockers.”

‘Leather, coffee, something sweet like honey.’ It takes a moment before RK writes the next part: ‘You’re an omega.’

Gavin is still reeling when the last part of the sentence hits him like a punch to the gut. He takes his blockers near religiously, there’s no way RK should be able to‒

...but then the air around him floods with hints of metal and ozone. He’d smelled it before, when RK first came at him, but it had been absent since.

An alpha.

As soon as the scent envelops him it lessens again. ‘It’s hard to concentrate, to control myself, unless I turn that part of my programming off. Although, it means I have to get in close to smell anything.’

Gavin doesn’t know what to say to that, to any of it, so he remains quiet even if he doesn’t move away to allow RK to take in his scent as he pleases.

The weather dips dangerously in the late night and Gavin wakes up shivering. “Fuck, dammit,” he curses. Maybe he should keep moving. Catch the fucker earlier and finally get away from here. ‘Terrible plan,’ Gavin reminds himself as another shiver wracks through his body. Weiss is an alpha and as much as Gavin loathes to admit it, they are stronger than him. His strength is his speed and precision, dancing out of people’s range until they tire, or using his omega status as a lure. The last one wouldn’t help him here and the former only works if he’s well-rested and alert.

RK is just now stoking the fire. It helps, a bit, but Gavin is still feeling numb; fingers and toes hurting when he attempts to stretch them out.

“Hey, RK. C’mere a second.”

The android obeys without question, crouching down next to where Gavin has struggled into a sitting position. He places his hands against RK’s bare chassis to test his theory. There’s a low thrumming vibration beneath his fingertips and the metal is surprisingly warm to the touch. RK moves to clasp Gavin’s hands between his own and slowly rubs over them, keeping them covered while his chassis suddenly generates more heat.

Once they’re an appropriate temperature again RK moves to sit behind him. Gavin watches him, a question etched clearly into his eyes, but RK merely lays down, waiting and watching. Glacially slowly Gavin joins him on the ground and the android smiles shyly before turning his back on him. Gavin mirrors him once more, shuffling until they lie back to back, and both the warmth from the fire and RK enveloping him is a comfort he didn’t know he needed.

The morning after is filled with glances out of the corner of his eye, with the urge to hold RK’s stupid hand, and he wonders when he became so starved of touch, of someone showing the slightest bit of kindness to him, that two days are enough to want to pull RK down by his hair and kiss him senseless.

They catch up to Weiss a short few hours later and Gavin presses the rifle into RK’s hands as a safety precaution before throwing himself into the fight. It’s quick and dirty with Gavin using every trick in the book to gain the upper hand while dancing around the wildly thrown punches. Grinning through the rush of adrenaline Gavin eventually stops toying with the man and brings him down with a few precise kicks and punches. He locks handcuffs around Weiss’ wrists, arms behind his back, while Weiss shouts abuse and obscenities at him. Gavin pays it no mind, explaining with a sick sense of satisfaction that the cuffs aren’t coming off without a DNA signature from his friend and that running would mean a slow death for him left out in the elements. “Truth be told, I don’t care whether or not you’re still breathing when I bring in proof of your capture. I can afford to lose the difference in compensation.”

Weiss falls limp at that while Gavin slowly rises to his feet. When he looks up, remembering they’re not alone, RK is standing still as a statue. He stalks over, bearing a striking resemblance to a predator approaching prey, and presses right up into Gavin’s personal space to shove his nose into his neck and inhale. A rumbling noise is caught in his throat, a growl that has Gavin’s knees weakening slightly, as sharp teeth graze over his throat. Ozone and metal. Wicked claws not present before gripping his jaw tightly.

He reaches up to stick his thumb in RK’s mouth, pressing it down on his tongue with narrowed eyes. RK pricks it with his fangs and laps at the drop of blood with his tongue, all the while keeping eye contact. It makes Gavin squirm, just a little bit, and he’s thankful the heat suppressors keep him from getting wet or the walk back would be uncomfortable to say the least. With a graze of his teeth, RK loosens his hold and puts distance between them again, eyes dark and wanting.

Weiss tries to run about two thirds of the way back and Gavin sighs as he readies his reclaimed rifle. Turns out he never has to use it. RK’s head snaps up and he tracks the man’s erratic patterns for a second before giving chase. He’s practically a blur of movement and Gavin watches, transfixed, as he takes Weiss down in one graceful leap. The lack of being able to catch himself smacks Weiss’ head hard against the ground. RK doesn’t seem to care about the man’s dazed state as he drags him back to Gavin, his claws buried deep into the sides of his neck, hand cupping the back of it. He tosses him at Gavin’s feet and offers a razor-sharp grin, nudging the guy with the tip of his foot.

Gavin gives him a light kiss on the cheek for his help and can almost imagine the tail wagging behind him with excitement at the gesture of affection.

What doesn’t fit the crumbling infrastructure in the slums or the dingy office he rents for cheap is the well-kept lady in smart business attire standing next to him behind the desk.

Maurice Gacy, the guy they usually make business with, is a weasel of a man. His thin greasy hair and slimy smile fits his role of lowlife criminal perfectly. His side hustle of collecting bounties for the Guild is the only reason Gavin interacts with him, puts up with his leering and comments. Trust only extends so far between them but... all in all he gives the money owed and he keeps his mouth shut when talking to the cops which is all that really matters in the end.

RK tenses behind him, something Gavin senses in the clicking of his machinery, and Gavin frowns at the broad smile beginning to stretch over her face. “You found it,” she says lightly, walking in a measured pace while Gacy warily trails behind, heels clicking across the linoleum.

Gavin takes a step forward to meet her and bares his teeth in a snarl. “Back off.”

She nods sagely, uncaring for his hostility and lengthening canines. “Yes, of course. Money first. Always the same with you lot, isn’t it?” The node she produces from her fitted jacket flares to life and he stares, heart stuttering in his chest, at the very familiar face displayed.

WANTED

RK900, MODEL NUMBER #313 248 317 - 87

REWARD: 1.000.000 $

HIGHLY VOLATILE AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS

PREFERABLE IF IT REMAINS OPERABLE UPON COLLECTION

Metal and ozone laced with a bitter tinge resembling fear.

A flower stuck between yellowing pages.

Viscous saliva and thirium dripping from his hands.

Whatever RK’s crime can Gavin truly bear to have more of his blood on them when it’s sure to stain them always? The thought is on the forefront of his mind when RK walks up to stand by his side, resignation already home in eyes and slowly sapping them of light, and in that moment, Gavin has his answer.

His arm shoots out to block RK from moving further and slowly raises his chin in defiance. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

They’re all staring at him, RK with a mix of wonder and trepidation, so Gavin sets his jaw and forces calm into his voice. “You can fuck right off with that shit, he’s not the reason we’re here.” With a nod to Tina, she steps forward and shoves Weiss at Gacy. Thankfully he’s too much of a coward to pick a fight and transfers the agreed upon money to her before whisking Weiss away towards the back. Tina raises an eyebrow at him, bumping their shoulder together lightly as she walks out the door, and Gavin has never been as thankful to have her as he is right now when the unmistakable sound of an engine rumbling to life filters in from outside. “Come on, we’re done here.”

It’ll start a shitstorm, that’s for damn sure, but with RK leaning forward to peer out the front window as they tear through the streets, Gavin can’t find it in himself to care.

#allegedly answering asks #dbh gavin #gavin reed #dbh rk900 #rk900 #reed900 #dbh #detroit: become human #detroit become human #mini fic #my writing #is nines courting gavin in this to the best of his abilities?#yes absolutely #does gavin know?#debatable #he's both thick and thicc if you know what i mean

124 notes · View notes

kissofthespring · 4 years ago

Text

title: ruin the mob ship: iwaizumi x fem!reader (afab!reader) genre: yakuza x coffee shop au cw: blood, guns, violence, potential assault, face sitting, degradation, daddy kink. cute nicknames for the reader. unprotected sex. (wrap it up folks.) note: this is just part one. There will be a part two eventually. (oops.)

"Hajime..."

The wound won't stop bleeding. You can feel your consciousness slipping. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Dummy. Tsubaki?!" He practically yells as he presses his steady hands to the wound.

"No, no, no."

How had you gotten here?

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

Six months earlier.

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

Iwaizumi ran his hand through his spikey locks as he stared at the image on his phone. A pretty girl with her hair pulled up and off her neck. The smile on her face reaches her eyes. She's mid-laugh this shot. "This is Ushijima's sister. She has no idea, though. She's his half-sister. Same father, different last name." Matsukawa says as he reads over the information on the laptop in front of him.

"She's just a girl. What did she do?" Hanamaki spits as he takes apart his gun and starts cleaning it. He's right in a way. You had just turned 29 years old. The smile on your face made Iwaizumi feel old. He had just turned 35, but he couldn't remember the last time he smiled like that.

"So, are we taking her hostage? Or..."

"Killing her. Little Cutie has a price on her head, it seems." Oikawa interrupted him, kicking his feet up onto the table. "It's a hefty one. Otherwise, I wouldn't have us take the job. Iwaizumi, you're the best, so it's on you."

"Tch. Fine." Iwaizumi had a weird rumble in his chest. What had you seen to get you on their radar? Or who had you spoken to? "She works for a coffee shop, yeah? This should be easy."

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

Usually, whenever Iwaizumi Hajime got a job, he'd look over the provided profile and then take out the contract. Something about this one set him off. You probably had no idea you'd seen something. You looked like the type that would go to the cops right away if you'd seen something terrible. So clearly, to you, it was normal. He stepped onto another roof, watching you as you turned down an alleyway stepping toward the red light district. Now, this didn't make sense. This wasn't on his profile of you—a barista working her way through graduate school with no contact with your father. In fact, you didn't seem to have any family contact. He watched as you slipped into the red light coffee shop. Struck with the realization that you were exactly like your profile after all. You were setting the coffee in front of a customer when he walked into the shop. "Welcome. I'll be right there in a moment."

There's no line, so he moves to stand at the counter. He takes in your appearance over his shoulder. Yep, he can see Ushijima in your eyes. It's the shape and softness of your features that set the two of you apart. Not to mention your body. The curve of your breast visible beneath the black apron. The jeans you'd wiggled your way in were form-fitting. Your shirt was a half-buttoned black dress shirt. Just formal enough that you looked professional, but still, the cleavage made it sexy. Working in the red light district, you seemed to pick up something from the girls that frequented your establishment. You step back around the counter before grinning at the man in front of you.

“How can I help you today?”

Your voice is chipper as you lean against the countertop. You take in the appearance of the man in front of you. The all-black tech wear was something you were familiar with. There was a silver earring in his ear, and you could see a tattoo peeking up past his coat as you observed him. Fuck. He was your type. Probably covered in tattoos underneath the jacket on his frame. He was built too. Fuck.

But if he was in the red light district, you knew better. He was one of four things, a pimp, a john, a yakuza, or an escort. From the looks of him, you couldn't help but think that he was too pretty to be a pimp, so either he was getting some, or he was just a part of a crew. You rested your hip against the countertop as the man before you stared up at the menu above your head.

"Large coffee, black, and a small cup of ice water."

"Sure."

You turn to get his coffee and find him pulling out cash to pay. "Nope. You're new around here. On the house tonight. If I see you again, then I'll make you pay." You wink as you pass him the coffee, then move down to grab an ice cup. His eyes widen as you clear the total and smile again. "Usually, I hear a thank you for that."

"That's not a way to run a business..."

You pass the man the water before shrugging. "It's a cup of coffee; I sell more than I give away. Stand in front of me any longer, and I'll make you pay." He picked up the coffee, and the water moving over to the bar area. You could see the scowl on his face, though. Had you surprised him? Hm.

Hajime couldn't help but stare at the coffee cup with anger. Her blood would be on his hands, and she had given him free coffee... Was it foolish of him to think that perhaps whoever put a hit out on you was wrong? Probably. He couldn't help it, though. He watched you as you worked, made fresh coffee, dumped the dregs of the old one. Looked up at the door when the bell rang. Gave a smile to the old man in front of you and smiled that same smile at the gangster that crossed your threshold. You were glancing at the clock before throwing him what you thought was a subtle glance.

Hajime was nursing that same cup of now cold coffee three hours later. You two were alone in the shop; you were about to say something when the bell above the door rang, and your face turned cold. It was instantaneous the shift in the air.

"Hey, Pet." The man who entered called out with a grin. "Thought over my offer?" He lifts his still-lit cigarette to his lips, a smirk curling upon his lips. "This place really could use the protection, and... You'd make a lot more money."

"Listen, Futakuchi. You're great, and I even let you smoke in here when the sign says no smoking. But I'm not interested in being one of your girls, or protection for the shop. We manage fine, thanks." You turn your back to the man lifting a heavy pot of coffee to dump it out for the night. "I'm closing up for the night. Please leave, Futakuchi."

"What about that guy?"

The brown-haired gangster pointed at Iwaizumi, who offered you a smile as if he was willing to play along if need be. "He's my new employee... Now please leave." You glance over at Iwaizumi, who stands to his full height; he was glad that he had grown from his childhood. Now standing at 6'0, he was taller than the other man by centimeters, but it was enough. He shrugged off his coat, the tattoos along his arms finally visible. The brown-haired man had to know what they meant.

The Seijoh Syndicate was infamous. The traditional Japanese style, mixed with a floral and dragon motif... It worked for him. You admired for a moment before you cleared your throat and tossed Iwaizumi the keys for extra measure, "Lock the door after him, would you?" You noticed the way his muscles rippled as he nodded, "Well. The lady did say to leave." Futakuchi crushed his cigarette under his boot before turning around, "I'll be back, Y/N. Maybe next time, you'll be kinder."

"Doubt it!"

You called as Iwaizumi locked the door, and you clutched the edge of the countertop in front of you. "I... I can't thank you enough for helping me out. I'm sorry for getting you roped into this. Um. Thank you..."

"Iwaizumi Hajime." What a mistake that was for him to tell you and a way to identify him, but he did it.

"Thank you, Iwaizumi. You honestly saved me from having to be really aggressive with him. Ever since I opened this place, he's been trying to get in my pants." You take a heavy pot of coffee off the burner before moving to dump it in the sink.

"How did you know that you could trust me to play along with you?" Iwaizumi asked gruffly, settling back into the seat at the bar. When you shrugged, "I didn't. But I hoped that you would. If you wait for me to finish up, I'll split the tips with you for your help. I just don't trust that he's gone." Iwaizumi gave you another nod before siping on his cold coffee. Even cold, it tasted good. Weird. Must be the beans she used. He watched as you locked up the safe for the night and then stood up.

Your head could nestle just under his chin if he so wished it. He didn't, but you could. As you grabbed your bag and handed him his portion of the tips, you grinned. "You know, I understand you might not need the job, but if you wanted a position here..."

He cut you off before you could finish. "I don't. You shouldn't be so generous. Someone will one day take advantage of that kindness." Damn it... It was him. Iwaizumi realized. He would be the one because he was going to have to kill you eventually. You watched as the man grabbed his coat and left the shop. You turned on the alarm then stepped out into the back alley behind your shop.

You were walking home, your keys stuck between your fingers when you felt it. The shift in the wind, someone was following you. When they struck, you'd thought you'd be ready, but your head was pushed against the brick, and the hand that you had your keys in was twisted behind your back sharply. "Sh, Pet. I just... I don't think you're safe working with that guy. Nor do I think you're safe on your own." The mouth of the man who had been trying his damndest to get with you found our neck. He was pushing you against the wall with his body weight and one hand. His other was tracing the waist of your jeans. You thought that if anything like this was to ever happen to you, you'd struggle or something, but you froze.

He pulled your arm a little harder, causing you to yelp. "Let her go." There's a click behind you, and your eyes find the green ones of Iwaizumi. The gun in his hands looks huge; you shrink into yourself when Futakuchi lets you go. "Hey man... Look, I let her go. Whatever, Y/N. If this is who you're with now, I'm out. Fucking bitch." Iwaizumi raises his arm, shooting into the sky, causing you to flinch, and the man who was now cursing your existence to scrambles away.

You had shrunken in on yourself when you felt a hand press against your forehead. "You okay? Let me help you home." You clung to him and directed the man who saved you from another to your home. What a fool you were. You had no idea what he was sent to do. As you pressed your key into the door, you looked up at the man, "Can I repay you somehow?"

"Don't be so kind. You just saw what happens when someone wants to take advantage of that kindness. Next time I won't be there. So... No. Go take a shower and eat something. Good night, Dummy."

You were about to tell him not to call you that, but exhaustion took over, and you just slipped inside your apartment instead. Meanwhile, Iwaizumi was documenting the exits and entrances around your place. God damnit. Taking you out could be easy if you weren't so... Good.

This was a bad hit.

Whoever had it out for you had it for the wrong reasons.

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

It went on like this for five weeks. Iwaizumi would show up three hours before closing, hang out in your coffee shop and then walk you home. You had gotten to know bits and pieces of him too, and he had done the same with you.

One night it's the two of you left in the store, locked up for the night. You weren't paying him any attention when he brushed your hair out of your face a bit gentler than you thought Iwaizumi would be, making you drop the peach scone you were bagging up for the night. "Fuck!"

He's laughing, doubled over, clutching his stomach as you smack his arm. "That's what gets you to swear, Tsubaki? I was gentle. What would you do if I wasn't?" The tension is right there between the two of you. "Shut up, you jerk." You reach for your scone to throw it away when you noticed he hadn't stepped away or gone back to his coffee. "Come driving with me, Tsubaki. It's a nice night." Your eyes met his before you nodded, fiddling with the keys in your hands, "Sure. I'm almost done..."

You finished the closing tasks, turned off the lights around the store, pushed the money through the red door on the safe, and finally set the alarm for the night. Iwaizumi was smoking a cigarette outside the door when you slipped out of the shop. "Okay, I'm ready." He took in your appearance for a moment. You wore a black skirt today, and the thin black top left little to the imagination. God, he liked you. It still lingered in his mind; he was supposed to kill you.

Oikawa had gotten annoyed at him for not completing the job weeks ago, but... Hajime didn't give a fuck. He had spent time with you, and feelings developed from there. You were kind. You cared about everyone who came into your store equally. You'd close shop if a woman came in after being beaten by a John. When a young man came in wounded, you dropped everything to patch him up. You were a safe haven for women and gangsters alike. They knew they could come to you for a place to hide. He found himself unable to kill you. Whoever had put the hit out was wrong. He'd find them first.

You had no idea the thoughts that brewed in the spiky-haired man's head. He held the door open for you to slip in, then slipped inside himself and started driving.

The road turned to gravel as he drove into the hills of the prefecture. Your hand rested against the edge of your skirt, nerves making them shake a little. He turned his wrist up on the gear shift. "If you need to hold my hand or something." Instantly, you latched on to it, bringing it over to your lap, and grinned. The hitman couldn't help himself. He'd gone soft for you... His hand gripped your back. You relaxed, and eventually, your hand slipped out of his, but his hand didn't move from your thigh, gripping it slightly.

Finally, he stopped at a spot overlooking the city. It was secluded and beautiful tonight. His hand moved down your leg to your knee before moving back up gently, "I like you, Tsubaki. You know that, right?"

"I had an inkling. Does this mean I get to call you Hajime now?" You turn toward him full-body, shifting so your back was against the passenger side door, and his hand came up to rest on the back of your seat. "I like you too. I mean, I have for a while, and not just because you saved me before." You fiddled with your fingers, a look of shock coming over your face when Iwaizumi reached for your hand.

He lifted your right hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist, making you breathe out sharply. His green eyes traced your frame and finally found your face. "Can I kiss you?" The question hit your ears, and before your brain could stop you, you leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss.

The kiss is hungry and rough. Teeth were clashing together as you finally break that tension you had both had between you two. You reached up to tug his hair, and you could feel his growl against your lips. "Fuck."

The windows fogged before you realized it, and he was pushing you against them, his hand wrapping around your neck to pull you closer to him. He was rough, but god did it feel good. His teeth tug at your lip before whispering, "Can I touch you, Tsubaki?" He presses his forehead against yours, his fingers tangled in your hair as you catch your breath.

"Yes. Touch me, Haji. Please."

The moment the please leaves your lips, he feels feral. His name dies on your lips as he palms a breast with one hand and slips the other one up your skirt resting on your thigh. The kiss was deepening as he swipes his tongue along the seam of your lips. Your gasp was all he needed. His hand moves to your cloth-covered cunt, before pulling back to whisper, "I want to fucking hear you moan."

And moan into his mouth you did. Gasping as he played with your clothed breasts, you wanted more.

The man above you is grinding his hip against your calf as he cages you in against the passenger seat. "Please, don't tease, please." You whisper as the kiss breaks, and he leans back to admire you for a moment. You're his prey here. With his big hands, he could snap your neck and be done with the job. Or he could give you pleasure. His hand lingering on your breast and the other between your legs told him what he wanted to do. He wanted to fuck you. Wanted to ruin you.

The hand between your legs found your hip clutching it slightly. "I want you. But I want it to be special. We shouldn't do this here." You let out a whine that he knew would be his undoing. "Hajime... I want to feel you inside of me. We can go back to my place if you want a bed. I just... Fuck me, tonight."

"Dummy." Iwaizumi whispered against your temple before capturing your lips against his. He slides his hand down to your cunt again. "I know how to satisfy you for now, at least until we get to your place and we make some choices." His large fingers brush against your panties before pushing the fabric to the side. He swallows your moans with kisses as he rubs your clit with his middle finger. He slides that same finger down until he gets to your center and pushes inside of you.

Your hips jolt, and you gasp as his mouth makes its way down your neck, leaving marks as he goes. "More, please. Hajime. Please."

He drives his middle finger into your cunt, grinning at the gasp that chokes from your lips. "Such a greedy little dummy." He adds another finger before he glances down to marvel at the way you suck his fingers in. The dirty and lewd noises were coming from your mouth as he fingers you. "This hand of mine taking you out? Making you dumb? Sweet, sweet little one." He feels your body shake involuntarily, your head rolling backward.

"That's it, baby. Let it go. Cum for me."

Your thighs are shaking as you cum with a gasp, his hand tightening on your throat to control the blood flow and how you were feeling. It was so good that a second one washed over you quickly.

Your vision finally colors again, and you watch him as he lifts his hand to his mouth, sticking each finger in one by one. "You taste so good, Tsubaki. Like my favorite candy."

You roll your eyes at him before shifting to press your body against the passenger side door. "Just drive to my place, and don't make illusions to me tasting like candy..." Iwaizumi shifted gears before chuckling. "I could say something else, but I thought candy suited you. You're sweet. I liked it. And so did you if the way you came was any indication."

The drive went on like that, him teasing you and you bantering it right back to him. When you arrived at your apartment, you instantly felt shy. Your state radiated off of you in waves as you stared up at the tall building. Iwaizumi's hand reached over to squeeze your thigh. "We don't have to do this tonight... I got you off; that’s what I wanted to do."

You looked up at him shaking your head before reaching for his hand and lacing his fingers with yours. "Come inside; I’ll get you some tea."

His voice reverberated in your brain as you both got out of the car, "I don't want tea, Tsubaki." I want you. Those words are unspoken as you both approach your door from the confined space of the elevator.

You fumbled with the keys, dropping them than picking them up again. Iwaizumi's hand rests on the small of your back to soothe your thoughts. "Do I make you anxious? It's not my goal, dummy." He's gentle as he brushes your cheek with careful fingers. He's treating you like glass as you both enter the apartment. Shoes fall off feet quickly as soon as the door closes.

You step backward into your apartment, leading him down the short hallway to your bedroom. He follows his hand resting on your shoulder, taking in the ease of your clothes. "God, you're so beautiful." He pushed your shoulder strap down your arm smiling as your tank top fell quickly. Your overshirt was already discarded when you entered your apartment. Your knees hit the bed, and you reach for his long sleeve shirt. "It's not fair if I get naked first, Hajime."

He pulls the shirt over his head with one arm in a swift movement and lets it fall to the floor. He steps closer so that his body can cage yours in against the bed. His knees were nudging your own apart slightly. "We're nowhere near even, Peaches."

Your fingers trace the patterns of his tattoos, running up his arms and across his chest. Iwaizumi lets you touch him like this, a cool grin curling upon his lips. "You like them?" Your fingers find a dragon wrapped in ivy; the teal creature struggles to the sky on his right arm. Tsubaki flowers bloom across his pec then the more traditional Yakuza tattoos catch your eye. You knew he was a part of a gang, but this was so detailed. You press your mouth to the flowers and nod. "They are beautiful. You are beautiful, Ha-" He cuts you off, catching your mouth with his and kissing you deeply.

The sensuality of the kiss makes your back arch practically into him. When you broke it to breathe, he's smiling down at you brushing your hair back with such careful calloused hands. "No one has ever called me beautiful before, Tsubaki-chan." He nibbles your bottom lip before lifting a hand to your chest. "Can I take all this off you? I want you."

There were moments of softness as your clothes fell away to skin. Iwaizumi’s rough hands roaming gently down your body until he got to your cunt again. You breathed in sharply as he touched you and felt your body react and arch toward him. "Hajime." You moaned as he captured your lips and reached for your hand to place it on his thick considerable cock.

Your delicate fingers wrapping around him caused his breath to catch in his throat. "Fuck, dummy."

You stroked him gently, rubbing your thumb over the slit on his cock as you did so. He caged you in from above as your feather-light touch caused a soft moan to escape his lips.

He hisses through his teeth as your foreheads touch, and you stroke him, your hand tightening a bit as you move it. "Tsubaki..." He whispers against your skin, dropping kisses against your shoulders, "That sweet hand of yours, it probably doesn't feel as good as your cunt. I want to do something for you, though."

He pulls you with him and rolls onto his back. He pulls your hips to his face roughly, his large hands cupping your ass as he did so. "I'll make you feel good, dummy. Just sit still and enjoy the ride." His teeth nicked your thighs as he pulls you closer to his mouth. "Hajime! Hey, wait. I don't want you to get hurt by me." He looked up at you from between your legs; he’s practically salivating as he says. "Oh, you little dummy. You won't hurt me. I want to make you feel good." He pressed his face to your center, smirking when he felt your thighs clench under his hands. "Sensitive, huh?" You squeal a little bit as he buries his face between your thighs.

You're drenched, and his tongue has you fisting his hair with the first stroke. He speaks against your cunt, something you can't quite hear, but it makes your body vibrate, "Mine." His fingers spread you wide tentative licks against everywhere but where you want him. He's not gentle. He eats you out like a starving man. Getting lost in your taste. You gasp and whine as your body arches against him. His nose brushes against your clit, and your nails dig into his arms. Fingers against the inked limbs.

You're gushing against his mouth as he tugs you against his face more. He hummed against your clit, smirking as your body arches and your full weight finally rests on his face. His tongue flattens against your cunt, as he finally lets his the fingers of his right-hand slip inside of you. "Cum, Tsubaki. Cum for me."

He sucks against your clit, his teeth grazing against it slightly. You gasped, hips bucking slightly. He chuckles as you tug his hair, "Hajime, I..." You came hard thighs locking around his ears as your body falls to his face. You're trying to catch your breath, body folding to the pillow. Hajime slips out from under you, rolling you over and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "You okay there, Peaches? You taste so good. I couldn't help myself." He reached for your cheek brushing your hair away from your face gently. "Such a pretty little thing."

Your fingers brush against his inked arms and chest softly. "Did these hurt?" You ask as you catch your breath. He doesn't seem as though he's going to move forward tonight. He's made you cum. It was all he wanted today unless you were up for more. "They hurt like hell. Mat- uh, my tattoo artist has a heavy hand." You trace the dragon as it rolls up his shoulder. "So... Now what?"

Iwaizumi rolls on top of you, nipping your neck, his sharp teeth making you jump. "Now, I'll fuck you. I'll fucking ruin you for anyone else." He looks up at you before taking your chin in his hands. "If you don't want this, let me know. We can stop right now." You leaned forward to catch his mouth, kissing him mid-sentence. "Fuck me, Hajime."

He groans against your mouth, moving to pin you against the bed. A growl slipped from his lips as he pressed you against the bed, he pushed his pants down and his boxers following as well. His cock bounced against his stomach, well-hung; you couldn't help but lick your lips. You noticed more tattoos that traveled down his legs as well. His golden skin is covered in beautiful black ink.

"You're beautiful." You whispered. Iwaizumi reaches for your hand before kissing the inside of your wrist. "You are. Now, lay back for me." You do so, and his body covers yours. He reaches between your legs, grinning down at you, "Such a wet little slut." He made sure to look into your eyes when he degraded you. He was checking to see if this was okay. "Please. Daddy..." His mouth dives into yours, his tongue licking generously into your lips. He lines his cock up to your entrance before pushing inside of you.

A whine escapes your lips. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, dummy. You feel so fucking good." You clutch his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Fucking hell." He caught your lips before pushing into your insides more. He bottomed out finally, your walls fluttering around him. Your plush velvet walls fluttered while he lifted his eyes to meet your own. "Are you cumming again? You're so tight." Spots developed in your vision as he ruts into you. His hips grind against your own, the angle of him lifting your hips, but pressing your chest down slightly to the bed made your back arch.

"Harder. Fuck me harder, Hajime."

His hand slips up your chest to your throat, wrapping it around it as he lowered his body to yours, his mouth against your ear. "You got it." He sets a rough pace, his hand squeezing around your neck to control the way your body felt for him. "So fucking tight." He groans as he shifts your hips to change the angle again. You cry out loudly as he continues to rut against you. The head of his cock nudges your cervix entrance, and you arch, a whine escaping your lips. He was stretching you out in the best ways; your entire body arches as you cum unexpectedly, eyes widening as he meets your gaze.

"Came already? Pretty slut. Daddy's turn."

He kisses your mouth before rolling you over, pressing his chest to your back as he presses inside of you again. You’re sensitive from your orgasm and fluttering around him again. He grins against your shoulder before moving his hips roughly against yours; his right hand slides from your hip to your mouth, right hand, and sticking two fingers between your lips, he grins. "Fuck, you're gorgeous like this. All fucked out on my cock. Your mouth open like this. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He starts pulling his fingers from your lips and finding your clit to make you cum again.

He drives your head into the mattress, and you gasp the angle changes again. "Where do you want me to cum, Dummy?"

"Inside. Please, Daddy."

His green eyes met yours as you spoke, begging him to cum inside. He grabs you by the neck, pulling you up against his chest, and presses his mouth against your ear. "That's it, baby. That's it, so tight." As you cum again, he follows, groaning as he does. "Fuck, what a good girl. Good fucking girl." He presses kisses to your shoulders as your body collapses bonelessly in Hajime's arms. He gently lets your body move to the bed. He brushes a hand through your hair as he pulls out and watches as his cum slips out of your cunt slowly. He pushes it back in with his fingers before looking up at your face. "Let me clean you up and get you some water."

You groan softly before nodding. "Maybe two cups of water. Hajime, I don't think anyone's ever..." He grinned, pressing a kiss to your fingers. "I can tell. I'll be back. Towels?"

"The linen closet is outside the door. My cups are above the sink. Thank you."

Hajime leaves the room to grab what he needs to clean you up. Meanwhile, you sigh, trying to relax now that your sexual libido's been satiated. It was then you heard his phone go off—the ring tone indicating a text message. You reached for it, surprised when it opens up right away.

shittykawa: Well, is the job done?

Your eyes widen, quickly placing the phone back, unsure as to what he was talking about, but whatever it was, you didn't need to get involved. Hajime came back into the room, moving the damp towel up to your leg while holding a glass toward you in the other. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Hey, I think your phone went off." He continued cleaning you off, reaching for the object with a frown. "Shittykawa, it's not important. Now, do you want me to stay tonight?"

"Yes."

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He kisses your cheek gently before grabbing his phone and getting up from the bed. You fell into a deep sleep as you waited for him to come back. Meanwhile, Iwaizumi stared out the window in your living room, calling Oikawa quickly. “Pick up, pick up.”

“Iwa-chan, what the fuck are you doing? Why isn’t she dead yet?”

“Listen, Shittykawa. It’s a bad hit. I’m going to kill whoever put it out on here. She’s an asset to the red light society.”

“Are you blinded by pussy? Iwa-chan. She’s Ushijima’s sister. She’s collateral for him. The guy who put the hit out wouldn’t be wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because the amount of money we were paid wasn’t anything to sneeze at. Look, if you don’t kill her, another team might.”

“I don’t care. It’s a bad hit, Tōru. Please.”

“Fuck, you slept with her. Fine… We’ll come up with something… Fuck, Hajime. If she gets you killed, I’ll kill her myself.”

“She won’t. Now, good night…”

“Good night. Enjoy your fucking fuck.”

#iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #long fic is long sorry #my writing #iwaizumi hajime x reader

103 notes · View notes

sinisterlyhan · 4 years ago

Text

05. hwang hyunjin / 5813 words

stoner!hyunjin, softdom!hyunjin, female reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, size kink, reader is quite obedient here, fluff

tw: mentions of drugs

a/n: i wrote the first part of this drabble on my sfw account but decided to expand it and wrote the smut part for it. i doubt you’ll see something similar, but if you do, that’s most likely me. / please do envision this hyunjin to look exactly like ta!hyunjin.

the smoke stopped bothering you as much as it used to.

starting from burned up cigarettes to block-shaped vapes to dried up marijuana—you were no expert when it came to drugs but the ones you can name from the top of your head, you have likely seen hyunjin smoke it, whether it was under the bleachers during the weekend football matches or at a secret corner of the school’s backyard where teachers rarely head to check for students.

well, he did stop smoking at the backyard ever since you told him not to because that was where the school bunnies were taken care of. that was the only one of many advice he has taken from you ever since you found out he was half-way down his path to becoming a chronic smoker.

tonight was no exception. the smell of cigarette smoke wafted before your nose as you stirred on the bed hyunjin has laid you on after you fell asleep on the floor. you were reading a book, he didn’t pay attention to what it was but he dumped it on the edge of his desk so you could find it in the morning.

the moon was bluer than usual this night, making the blue sky look darker than ever. hyunjin’s long hair appeared to be a shade of blond and brown mixed together, framing his pretty face as it fell over the black headband he started wearing to keep his hair from bothering his eyes.

he was leaning against the balcony fence, completely unfazed by the cold despite wearing a sleeveless shirt. he got one elbow propped up on the vinyl rail while the other arm held up with a burning cigarette stuck between his slender fingers, smoking his unsaid sorrows away as he observed the vast city before him.

hyunjin looked more ethereal than ever like this. enticing, even. every move he makes, each inhales of his chest and each puff of lips felt like a revelation. he was spilling secrets to the gods above, with elegant smoke circulating his features, thus adding seduction to his overall being.

he was unbothered, melancholic, graceful—he was himself.

and no matter how many times you told yourself he was not your type of boys, you found yourself picking those brown creamy eyes over all others, you found yourself falling for the same witty smile all over again, and you found yourself melting against his surprisingly tender touch.

you fall and you fall, and all of a sudden, he was who you wanted him to be, and he was who you have always wanted.

shifting his weight, hyunjin spared a glance into his room and his heart skipped a quiet beat when he saw you staring back at him.

just having anyone on his bed was a miracle to him, not to mention the person was you, whom he has been in love with since the teacher demanded him to tutor you in order to raise your academic grades and to eliminate his bad conduct grades.

crazy enough, he never thought he would fall for someone like you. slow, clumsy, bad at spelling and can’t figure out simple math equations—not his type whatsoever. but he thought of you one night when it was all quiet and the wind blew his horrible memories away with the scent of smoke, he thought of you. how determined you were, how faultless and understanding you were, how you were always so kind to him.

and he fell, too, much earlier than you did for him.

hyunjin pushed himself off the balcony rail and took a few steps only to stop at the glass doors. he leaned against the frame, taking in a breath of smoke and blowing it out into the room, causing you to sit up with a grimace, whining slightly at the smoke.

“did I wake you up?” he asked, crossing his legs.

“yeah,” you nodded, rubbing your eyes, “it is cold without you here, hyunjin.”

he cocked a brow. “and?”

you huffed out a gentle sigh. “come back to bed with me.”

his sweater was threatening to fall off one side of your shoulder, exposing your collarbones that were littered with fading purple spots he found himself smirking at. the hoarseness of your voice dripped with velvet seduction and the drowsiness in your eyes were pure liquid gold; the way you just make him crave for your skin was nothing like he has ever felt.

he brought the cigarette close to his lips and inhaled deeply. he held it in as the threw the burning roll into the sky before he headed back into the room. the blue hues were making him feel more needy and loving than usual, and he just felt the need to kiss you.

your breath hitched when he tapped your chin with his finger, bringing your head up to look at him. He leaned down to your level after getting on the bed as well, the lights in his eyes curved with a kind of magnetism you couldn’t explain. and he smelt of smoke, obviously, but the scent you found much more appealing when he was the one wearing it like a fragrance.

when hyunjin thought he was close enough to you, he opened his mouth and exhaled the smoke. with fog trailing out his lips, stained with his taste, he breathed the smoke down your lungs.

like the wind and the stars from beyond the window, the smoke overwhelmed you, as did the way hyunjin’s fingers curled beneath you chin at the base of your neck, massaging your throat until they reached the back and cupped it gently to bring you forward to him.

he pressed his lips to yours, sealing the misty vault, and suddenly he was all you knew how to breathe.

he has always kissed you in such a way—thorough as a delicate painting, sensual as a plead for serenity, rough with desperation but also with so much familiarity that you could find your heart calming at the touch of his lips. and he leaves you breathless, with an edge that makes you want him more, every time.

your hands found their way to his shoulders when he pushed you back, a light whimper of his name bumping against his teeth when he nibbled on your lower lip for permission. hyunjin groaned at the sound, pushing you further down onto the mattress unconsciously so he could hover over you to take more control of your movements.

god, if there was one thing hyunjin was addicted to, it wouldn’t be nicotine, it would be you. unlike cigarettes and poisons, you were a permanent antidote and he would never burn you out.

your hand moved up to caress the side of his face, shifting through his silky hair you have run your hands through hundreds of times in the past. hyunjin was kissing you hard, causing an ache below your abdomen in the wake of his tongue tracing across your bottom teeth. and when he pulled away, still nudging the bridge of his nose against yours, you were unable to open your eyes for a moment, still drowning in and out of your own consciousness.

“hyunjin…” you whispered, whimpered almost, at the loss of his warmth. opening your eyes, you found his eyes hazy with desire, the thirst to mark up the map on exposed body evident with each trail of his gaze along your features.

the hand behind your neck squeezed benevolently, skillfully as well, while his other hand that had wandered down your side tugged at the hem of his sweater. he was waiting for permission, his sharp eyes pleading for a breathless demand from you so he could begin to satiate his own craving, so you both could experience a new way to give your souls to each other.

you moved your legs, your inner thighs brushing past his hips ever so tenderly, trapping him on top of you. hyunjin’s eyes glistened with eagerness when you nodded, immediately diving back down to capture your lips as his hand felt up your warm torso, bringing his sweater along with each dainty touch of his fingers.

you inhaled automatically as he stole the oxygen from your lungs, and you found that hyunjin still smelt of the cigarette smoke he was breathing in just a while ago. that would probably stay with you for a long while, especially with all the mist he just blew down your throat.

his hands had snuck beneath the sweater instead of taking it off, and they wandered along your bare skin slowly. his fingers were taking in every inch and every bump of your torso, squeezing the delicate size of your waist and gently pressing against the bone of your ribs.

you felt warm. so, so warm. like the smoke that clogs his lungs at night and the poison that suffocates corners of his room. it was dangerously fulfilling and he could never get enough of it; his hands keep gravitating towards you and his lips keep touching your skin.

hyunjin physically could not keep anything off you, not his mind nor his body. it was the only way he knew how to survive the night.

"ahh–hyunjin!" you gasped when his fingers closed around your breasts, squeezing with might and rolling his palm against the roundness.

he didn't say anything. his lips were too busy moving down your neck to find the time for words. you shut your eyes, concentrating on the wonderful feeling of his hands fondling your breasts while you angled your head to give him more access to your neck.

hyunjin settled with a soft spot on your skin and he sucked on it. he sucked on it hard, adding more pigment to the litter of elegant purples from the previous session. you whimpered at the pain from his teeth, and he quickly ran his tongue over the spot to soothe you down.

"i'm gonna eat you out," he said lowly when he moved back up to your face.

his mouth hovered over your ear, his teeth nibbling at your earlobe. you couldn't focus on anything else aside from the way his hand snuck down to your legs and started dancing along your inner-thighs, taunting what was between your legs.

"is that okay?" he asked, a hint of seductive mischief laced in his deep voice. "do you want me to tongue-fuck you, baby?"

"i–i..." you closed your mouth when your voice gave away, your chest heaving in anticipation.

fuck—why does this always happen? it was like being with him simply drains your sanity and knowledge. you were rendered useless around him all the time; you couldn't speak without being spoken to, you couldn't use your tiny voice properly, and you couldn't think with that stupid little brain of yours.

that was not at all like you. you had no idea you could be that way until he fucked you for the first time during a study session.

hyunjin has one hand in your hair now, his movement gentle with just the right amount of roughness in it. his fingers ran through your scalp carefully as he kissed the side of your face, his lips practically pinned to yours, and he would pull at your hair occasionally to earn a needy moan.

"ye–yes, hyunjin, please," you said finally, feeling your head being pulled to the side. "please fuck me with your tongue, i want it."

"of course, baby.” he smiled. it is always nice to hear you beg for him, it makes him feel wanted.

you could hear the smugness in his voice. it didn't use to affect you that much, he had been using it ever since he first met you.

it started with the normal day-to-day conversation, where he could speak triumphantly after scolding you for not understanding a science concept. and then it was much friendlier chats where he had said the words "i told you so" on multiple occasions.

and finally, when you two hooked up for the first time. it was when hyunjin discovered just how whiny and submissive you could be under the mercy of his touches. it was one hell of a discovery, alright, and he has got you wrapped around his fingertips since then.

your hands found their way to hyunjin’s shoulders when he went down. you were pushing him down with faint impatience, but with the meek strength you had, it barely felt like anything much to him. your abdomen had started aching the second he whispered to you what he planned to do, and your cheeks blushed at how much you were looking forward to it.

his hands went down the side of your body to push up the hem of your sweater until the fabric barely covered your breasts. as he moved down, he planted tight kisses to your skin, carefully worshipping your heavenly body as he should. his fingers moved down below your waist before they started to fiddle with the waistband of your pantie. he smirked; no shorts, hmm?

you could feel his breath fanning against your clothed core and the anticipation rose within your chest. your legs unconsciously spread just a little farther for him, silently showing him how much you wanted him, as if the little wet patch in the middle of your underwear wasn’t enough indication.

“my pretty girl is wet,” hyunjin muttered under his breath as he cupped a hand over your heat. his finger dipped against the fabric, ever so slightly poking into your hole to slick up your pantie even more. his thumb found its way to your clit, adding pressure to it before he gently rubbed circles at it.

you let out a string of breathy gasps, your knees pushing together but stopping when his torso blocked them from meeting each other. it was the way things he said and did that made you all riled up like this; the way he so casually called you his, while simultaneously teasing your wet cunt like he does it every day. it made you feel hot all over, and your natural reactions to it never fail to make hyunjin smile.

“let’s get this off of you,” he said after a while, seeing that you were starting to squirm restlessly simply from his fingers.

moving his head down to your waist, his eyes rolled up to look at you and a lustful smirk made its way to his face. his messy hair framed over the sides of his face prettily, attractively falling over the corners of his features like a match made in heaven. your heart pumped at his teasing smile and the desirable glimmer behind his eyes; he planned to make you feel really good.

and he would. you knew he would.

hyunjin tugged at the hem of your pantie with his teeth, pulling at it slightly before pulling it down past your thighs and finally down to your ankles. you moved your feet to help him out, letting him loop the piece of fabric away from you before he sat upon the bed. he looked down at you, your undergarment snuck loosely between his front teeth, and he raised a brow at your blushed eyes.

he couldn’t see it clearly but he knew your cheeks were red. and he loved it. he loved making you all flustered and embarrassed. he loved how timid you could be until he commands you to be louder for him, then your voice would be clear as crystals, shattering in the smoke-filled air despite the pressure his hand adds to your throat.

dropping your pantie to his hand, he discarded it on the corner of his bed before leaning back down to you. he kissed your tummy again and let his warm lips ghost down your skin, your back arching at the itchy feeling. when he almost met your entrance, though, he moved his head to the side so he could pay attention to your thighs. it was everywhere but the middle.

your legs stretched when hyunjin bit down at your skin, creating a wet bite mark as a punishment for you trying to buck your hips up to his face. you whimpered as your muscles relaxed, your eyes blinking at the sharp sting of pain from his grip on your thighs.

what an impatient little thing you are, couldn’t wait for a second more to get fucked by him.

thank god he has a soft spot for you, or else he would drag this teasing out forever.

moving his head over to your heat, hyunjin carefully tested it out by planting a kiss on your lips. you shuddered, your moan sucked back into your throat when your lips sealed shut at the feeling. he hummed, knowing fairly well your mouth would open itself soon, so he continued.

sticking his tongue out, he gently licked a harsh line up your slit. your essence stained the tip of his tongue deliciously, and he repeated the movement to gather up more of your arousal before his plump lips met your throbbing clit. he lightly kissed it before reaching his lips around the bud to give the bundle of nerves a sudden suck.

you moaned, your back arching and your sweater paws curled tightly to your chest. your legs curled at the knee, scraping across his head just barely when your knees met each other above him. it was a habit of yours to shrink yourself into a ball when the pleasure hit you. you do that to cope with the feeling instead of grabbing his hair or clawing at his skin.

you never touch him first unless he permits you to do it. and something about it was endearing to hyunjin. the way you're so obedient without needing to have it edged into you.

perhaps the student and tutor relationship you guys had gave you the impression that he has more authority over you, and it got stuck until now.

he didn't stop his assault on your clit, his tongue flicking across the protruding bud and his teeth pressing down on it lightly to stimulate your nerves. your moans increased the more he sucked on you, the slurping sounds of his mouth an embarrassing yet blissful sound to hear.

hyunjin could feel your body shaking above him. your feet were hitting his shoulders and back, moving aimlessly at each of your jolts, so his hand flew to your thigh and gripped it so he could pull one leg down on his shoulder, forcing you to stop squirming around.

his other hand moved up your body meanwhile, shifting under your sweater to cup your breast and twist your nipple.

you hummed contently at the feeling of his soft hand. your hands had moved away to your shoulders, your fists clenching as your free leg moved up and about with each stroke of his tongue along your slit.

after lapping the juices that dripped down your cunt, he suddenly brought his tongue past your lips and poked it into your hole. it elicited a loud moan from you, your walls and your fists clenching when he flicked his tongue in an up-and-down motion.

hyunjin hummed in satisfaction, enjoying the way your leg trembled under his grip. and when your hand pounced onto the bedsheet, he moved away from your heat for a moment to look up at your whiny eyes.

he arched a brow knowingly at you. "you can touch me."

"o–oh, okay–okay!" your quiet voice turned into a squeal when hyunjin wasted no time to dive back down to your cunt, his tongue poking its way back into your dripping hole once more and spreading his saliva all over your walls.

your hand found its way to soft blond locks, grabbing a fistful of it but never pulling at it. your other hand moved to your chest where hyunjin caressed your breast, and you removed it so you could grab onto his much larger palm instead.

he let his hand loose, allowing you to maneuver it however you wanted. you squeezed and pressed on his hand with each hefty whine, the feeling of his tongue shoving in and out of your cunt a wonderfully filthy sensation.

"ahh–mmm, hyunjin, i'm–" your toes curled as the fiery feeling burned at your abdomen, your eyes slightly rolling up to your head when he stopped to pay more attention to your clit.

you started to pull at his hair then, his scalp feeling a light sting ever so often when you couldn't help yourself. your leg jolted around as the sucking sounds got louder, and your ankles were hitting his back harshly with the trembling of your leg.

hyunjin hummed in amusement. it gets like this every time; you start with not touching him, and when given the permission you do it carefully until the pleasure becomes severe and your subconscious forces you to hurt him a little.

when you start thrashing about mindlessly, it means he is doing a good job. and he always wants to do a good job for you, to make you feel like you've ascended someplace else beyond the earth.

"hyunjin, i—ahh, i want to cum," you whined, holding onto his hand tightly as the stars slowly faded into your eyes.

and then he moved away.

like sunlight being filtered through the cloudy sky, your climax vanished as quickly as a rainstorm could stop. you were left hanging on the edge of an orgasm, your hole clenching to savior the previous feeling his tongue has given you.

you didn't whine out loud, you were too obedient to be blatantly impatient. but your pretty eyes spoke all the words for you, from the disappointment to the neediness, they sparkled under the dim room and hyunjin could only smirk at your hopeless expression.

he hovered over you, his face directly above yours as his hand moved to caress your heated cheek. you adorable thing, so small under his tall body and so weak compared to his strength.

and you knew that, didn't you? you knew he has authority over you in almost every aspect. it made you so susceptible to his every move, and possibly the reason why you were such a submissive little whore for him.

it was just the way he likes it.

the back of his fingers ran down your cheek slowly and you shut your eyes to the feeling. his touch—they are so addicting, something about them brings you solace no matter the occasion.

you were surprised when you first allowed him access to your naked body. everything about him was careful, and still, he gave you a kind of pleasure nobody has ever given you before. and your fear vanished in seconds when it hit you that hyunjin could never hurt you on his own will.

it was the way he would hold you ever so softly, how the weight of his hands lightens on your skin unless prompted otherwise by you, how even without the straightforward roughness he could make your stomach churn euphorically.

and you wanted him now, so fucking badly.

hyunjin tilted his head to the side when you opened your eyes. confusion flooded his head when you suddenly raised your hand to his jaw, and when you finally grabbed a hold of him, you brought him down to you so you could kiss him.

he welcomed the kiss, your lips brushing together passionately. heavy breathes and needy moans filled the air when you stated to buck your hip up against his, and he reciprocated immediately by grinding his hardened cock against your wet heat.

you could feel yourself getting wetter, and the burning in your chest yearned to be satiated by him, so you forced yourself to pull away. you kept his face close, your eyes rounded pleadingly at him as you squished his cheeks together slightly.

"can you please fuck me, hyunjin?" you asked timidly, your pussy aching for him. "i need your cock, please?"

god, he couldn't be sure if he softened or hardened, really. his dick twitched under his sweats upon your delicate begging, but his brain could only admire what a good baby girl you were for asking him so nicely like that.

who would have thought the clumsy, innocent, cheerful girl sitting at the front of the class would turn out to be so dirty for such an annoying, rebellious boy like him? nobody knows, and nobody will ever know.

hyunjin intended to keep this side of you hidden away from public eyes forever because you belong to him as much he belongs to you.

it started with you scolding him about smoking in class and him wacking your head for cheating on a mock test. now he hovers over your half-naked body, desperately pulling his pants down so he could collide with you under the night-blue sky.

all it took was one innocent look and a couple of breathy words from you to get him crumbling from inside out.

finally getting rid of his boxers, he lowered his body to press against yours. his hand reached down to pump his length before he positioned his tip at your entrance. he ran it along your slit, your hands moving down to his shoulders and gripping it as he gathered your arousal at his tip and teased your hole for a while.

"do you want my cock? you want me to push it in?" he asked first, then he looked at you, his gaze intense yet quite vulnerable as he awaited your answer. "do you want me?"

"yes, hyunjin," you replied in a hush, a hint of fondness seeping into your shy voice. "please."

his heart wavered. he loves you. it just hit him again, but he loves you. he loves the bruises on your collarbones and what they indicate, he loves the endearment in your voice when you beg for him, he loves the warmth of your limbs when they touch his body.

talk about being susceptible. hyunjin is the one who's wrapped around your pretty fingers, he is the one stuck in the middle of your palm, not the other way around.

he leaned down to capture your lips when he decided to finally push himself inside you. your moan was muffled when his length stretched you out slowly, your walls tightening around him at the big intrusion and your nails digging into his shoulders.

hyunjin's brows furrowed in concentration. it was hard to move inside you, your walls were clamping down on him, fitted closely and almost pulling him to a stop. it felt both suffocating and phenomenal, the pleasure mixing in with the discomfort and creating the most interesting ensemble.

how was this possible, he wondered. you two had sex just last week, it has not been that long, yet you had reverted to your virgin tightness again.

"ahh–no–" you pulled away from his mouth to gasp when he tried to move, the scorching pain suddenly flaring up inside your cunt. "it hurts–"

hyunjin paused immediately, his hand flying up to your hair and tugging a piece away from your face. he spoke with concern, his voice a whisper, "do you want me to stop?"

you hummed lowly with a shake of your head, your legs moving to go around his lower back. "no, just–just go slow."

"okay, baby, we'll move slow," he cooed, moving to kiss all over your face as he moved his hips at a much slower pace. "you are doing so good, baby girl. you're already making me feel so nice."

he hoped to help you adjust as much as he could. his hand laced through yours to give you assuring squeezes, his mouth gently leaving butterflies on your face to distract you from the painful stretch, his voice leaving lovely praises here and there to make you feel loved.

you opened your soul to him and placed your vulnerability in his hands when you let him loom over your tiny body. the least he could do was be patient with you, hyunjin thought, to listen to what you want and give you what you desire.

the pain was subsiding gradually, and his slow thrusts were becoming more pleasurable than painful. as your heavy breaths finally ceased to an end and the moan he longed to hear finally surfaced, hyunjin waited for you to give him a cue before he started to move.

"you can move now, hyunjin," you told him. "please move."

and then it was just ecstasy—the way he rolled his hips into yours, his length brushing past your slick and sensitive walls with each heartfelt thrust; his hands moving to your waist and the base of your neck, steadying you for better access and to apply pressure for more stimulation on your senses; his lips sloppily kissing your jaw and your chin, the hot breaths of his grunts a solid reminder of how good you were making him feel.

hyunjin was lost in the way you feel, but his mind was somehow still sane enough to process his sight and touch.

his body leaned against yours, closely with the fabric of your clothes touching. your sweater was lifted to your breasts still, exposing your tummy which he occasionally ran his hand over. your legs hanging on and off his back, tightening and loosening depending on how hard his thrusts were.

and you two were face to face. he watched the euphoric scrunch of your face, how your eyes shut tightly and your jaw hung open to moan. and sometimes your eyes would gaze into each other when you two felt like it, and it wouldn't be embarrassing at all.

this position allowed for a lot of intimacy, a lot of closeness. you two were essentially hugging each other through it, his big body engulfing your tiny one entirely as you clung to him with your hands.

and he loved it more than anything.

"ah, fuck, hyunjin," you huffed, circling your arms around his shoulder as you felt your high approaching. "you feel so good, oh god."

he smiled faintly, the sudden motivational boost causing him to pick up his pace. he fucked into you faster, your breasts bouncing with each snap of his hips. he shifted his legs to support himself better, angling his hips to lean on you a little more.

"i feel good, hmm, baby?" he asked, leaving wet kisses over the side of your cheek and circling your ear.

you nodded enthusiastically. "yes, you feel really good, you feel goo–shit!" you widened your eyes as a choked moan escaped your lips loudly. your legs moved toward each other automatically and your back arched off the bed when he hit your g-spot. "fuck, hyunjin, right there–ahh, please!"

his hand moved from your waist to your stomach to keep you down. he continued to pound into you, repeatedly brushing against your sweet spot and bringing you waves of pleasure. there was not a moment of rest until you could feel your peak arriving.

"hyunjin, i want to cum," you said—begged—with a hoarse voice looking at him with round, expectant eyes. "please let me cum, can i please?"

ugh! you're such a good little girl! hyunjin just—god, he couldn't even find the right words. they way you constantly make him feel so in control but not threatening, so dominant and unafraid of affection. it was like he could be the best, he could be everything.

"cum around me, it's okay," he said, tapping your chin.

and your climax washed over your body. your toes curling, your legs tensing up, your eyes rolling back, and your back arching as you came undone around his cock. you continued to pant even after you were done, watching hyunjin as he moved to chase after his orgasm.

your walls gave him an unbelievable clench when you orgasmed, and hyunjin could feel the pressure building up at his abdomen solely from the tightness of your pussy and the lewd moan of his name you let out.

"baby, i'm gonna cum in you, okay?" he asked, thrusting faster into you.

you whimpered with a small nod. "yeah, okay."

"good girl," he sighed out, his hand going up to your hair to caress your head.

you were staring right into his eyes, almost daringly as if taunting him to release in you quickly, daring him to feel you up so he could feel his cum ooze out of your used hole.

"oh god, i'm close, i'm–"

"cum in me, hyunjin."

"(name)–fuck!" he whined, his face pressed to the crook of your neck as he sprouted all over your walls, coating your insides with a shade of sticky white.

he pumped himself in and out of you a few more times, riding the orgasm out and just to relish in the feeling of being all warm and soft inside your cunt, then he finally pulled himself out completely.

you sighed contently at the feeling, your insides filled with hot liquid slowly trailing along your walls. and your legs dropped to the mattress, exhausted and sore all over.

hyunjin laid down next to you, his legs tangling with yours as he turned to his side and brought you close to his chest. you snuck an arm around him, comfortably leaning close to him.

"do you want me to clean you up? i can help you shower," he suggested, patting your back slowly.

"no, i just want to sleep. we can just wash the sheets tomorrow." you shook your head, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep. you snuggled up to him, your head arching up and poking his chest with your chin to get his attention.

hyunjin glanced down at you, his hair covering his eyes slightly but his soft smile was visible. you looked adorable like this, drowning in his sweater and safe in his arms.

oh, you're his baby. he loves you so much.

"what?" he asked, rubbing your neck with his thumb.

"don't leave me to go smoke this time," you warned, reaching up to poke his nose. "or don't smoke at all, that's good too."

he huffed out a short laugh, rolling his eyes in the know that it would take him a long while to get rid of the addiction. but he just might do it for your sake, if you nag him enough.

"why? do you still hate the smell?" he asked, leaning down to kiss your lips.

you laughed into the kiss. there was still an aftertaste of cigarette smoke lingering stubbornly on his lips, you just now realized.

but you knew, the smoke had stopped bothering you as much as it used to.

#stayverse #skz smut #skz dark hours #stray kids dark hours #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut

875 notes · View notes

yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Note

i think it’s fair to say that i’ve fallen far too in love with your zach one shots — not only do you capture his persona so well, it genuinely feels like i’m watching an episode of brothers & sisters

also, your ricky one shot was also so so so good!! you have no idea how grateful we all are that you pluck these characters from obscurity and portray their defining characteristics so accurately while also adding the loveliest fluffiest fluff of all time

i was wondering if you would consider writing a jealous!zach one shot? ngl, the (mutual) pining mixed with jealousy trope is my guilty pleasure and i feel like jealous zach would be 11/10

anyway, just wanted to say you’re fucking amazing and i adore your writing — i hope you’re having a great day!!

THANK YOU FOR THIS LOVELY ASK

(NB: Ok I know this is not Zach but it COULD be. It’s the right year. There are SO FEW pics of Zach so let’s just go with it).

Words: 1700 ~ Warnings: jealousy, pining, angst, fluff, one awesome kiss

Pairing: Zach Wellison x gn!reader

************

YOU: Is it wrong to be attracted to the super in my building?

BFF: Why would it be wrong? Use it to curry favour! Get stuff fixed faster! What is he/she like?

YOU: Tall. Tanned. Dark blond. Has a tattoo - military maybe? Sexiest voice ever.

BFF: If you don’t get him, I will.

You set your phone down and smiled.

Maybe I should say something.

Zach had been the building super of your apartment block for the last three months. He was a massive improvement on the last guy, who spent his days playing Zelda and smoking weed and very occasionally getting off his ass to fix stuff.

He’d been to your place - conveniently next door to his, he had a live-in type gig - four times. The garbage disposal, the leaky faucet, the faucet again, and then the window.

Notes could be left in his mailbox downstairs by tenants who needed assistance. He always responded the same day, the next day at the very latest, and he always tried to arrange a time with the occupant that suited them.

He’d gotten all greasy and wet fixing the faucet, his plaid button-down clinging to him, and eventually he’d stripped it off, revealing a tattoo you hadn’t been brave enough to try and examine properly, and some serious biceps.

Next time I see him, you promise yourself.

BFF: Btw, what’s happening with the dude at no 16?

YOU: Nothing.

You’d engaged in a mild flirtation with the well-built guy across the hall. Sometimes he got your mail in his box by mistake and he dropped it off, but lately he hadn’t engaged with you, and you began to think he was just being friendly.

The next day, before you could properly think of what to write down for Zach, the washing machine that came with your place started to leak. You noticed when trying to take your clothes out of it.

“Crap!”

Rather than put a note in his box, you knocked on Zach’s door.

He opened it after a minute, surprise sketched on his handsome face, hair ruffled, sweat beading at the neck of his t-shirt. Past him, you could see weight lifting equipment on the floor, along with a small speaker playing 70s rock.

“Fleetwood Mac?” You ask, smiling. “They’re my favourite.”

“No kidding?” A smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “So... “ His brown eyes met yours, warm, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I hate to bother you directly, but my washer’s busted - leaking.”

“It’s no bother.” He glanced behind him. “Give me five, okay? I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks so much, Zach.”

He nods and closes the door. You’re about to turn back to your apartment when Well Built Guy - Damon, you think his name is - comes out of his own apartment.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Oh, hey. How are you?”

He pushes a hand through his short, black hair. His single earring glints in the daylight; gives him a pleasingly piratical look. “I’m good. How are you?”

“Yeah, good - thanks.” You move again.

“Wait.” He takes a step closer in the small hall. “I was wondering if you - if you wanted to get coffee sometime? This place two blocks over does an amazing dark roast.”

“Oh, well-”

You’re cut off when Zach’s door swings open. He’s changed into a clean shirt, a forest-green henley, and he carries a faded red toolbox. His gaze darts between you and Damon, wary, and for a second, his mouth turns down.

As quickly as you see it, it’s gone.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he mutters, to you. “Can I go in?”

“I’ll let you in, Zach.” You turn your attention to Damon.”Catch you later?”

“Sure, sweet thing.”

He’s called you the nickname before but it’s never chafed until today.

Zach doesn’t react as you come to the door and let him in.

“Thanks for coming by so quickly.”

He doesn’t look at you. “You didn’t have to cut your time with your boyfriend short.” He sets his toolbox down by the washer and kneels, unbothered by the pool of water that begins to leech into the pale denim of his jeans.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Zach sets about exploring the washer. “Okay.”

“He isn’t.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “You want some coffee?”

For the first time, he looks up at you, and the expression in his honey-brown eyes is scraped bare, and then he looks away and the connection is lost. “Sure. Thanks. Black, one sugar.”

You busy yourself, just a few feet away - your kitchen is not big by any stretch of the imagination.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He’s absorbed, only his waist and ass sticking out from the drum of the washer.

You potter off to do some work.

An half hour later, Zach knocks on the door of your tiny office - the only other “room” of your studio aside from the bathroom.

“All fixed.”

“Thank you so much, Zach.”

He swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, leaving a smear of grease. “No problem.”

“You’ve got a-” You reach up, every nerve on end, wanting to touch him.

A knock sounds at your door.

Dammit.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

You swing the door open and Damon is there with two coffees.

“I was on my way back from the office,” he says. “I thought you might like to - oh, the super’s still there. Not fixed yet, pal?”

Damon says it innocuously but you see Zach’s shoulders tense.

“Nope, all good.” He rubs the palms of his hands together in a “that’s done” gesture. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“... Place next door is this amazing Italian,” Damon is saying, oblivious. “It’s pretty pricey but I’d love to take you there.”

Zach pushes between you and out of the door, but you see the crestfallen set of his shoulders as he goes.

The door swings shut behind him and you turn back to Damon, resigned to see this conversation out, and to make it clear that he’s kind, but you aren’t interested.

*******

That evening, you take the stairs down to the communal gym in your building. Well. Gym is stretching it. There’s one ancient rowing machine, one treadmill, a barbell that has seen much better days, and a CRT TV that only shows Judge Judy. But, you don’t have to pay for it, so it beats a gym contract elsewhere in the city.

When you push through the door, Zach is on the treadmill, earphones in. He’s wearing a sleeveless vest and your gaze is drawn to his intricate tattoo - an eagle perched on a world, an anchor hugging the globe. Marines.

Wow, you think - wow.

Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and his thick, dark gold hair curls around his nape.

Now or never.

You walk over to the treadmill and drop your gym bag to announce your presence.

Zach turns, does a double take, and then presses a button on the treadmill to slow it down. He pulls his earphones out.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Zach.”

Curiosity flits across his features. “Something you need?”

You swallow. He looks so good, his pale gold skin slick with clean sweat, his breath coming in soft pants, his chest rising and falling, lean muscles delineated by the clinging vest.

“No. I mean, yes.”

“And you can’t get the guy at 16 to help?” he snarks.

You step back.

“Sorry,” Zach says, immediately. “I just…”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you assure Zach.

Above his head, on the TV, Judge Judy silently reprimands a woman with six face piercings.

“He could be. Guy like him. Good job. He’d take you to fancy Italian places.”

You curl your hand around the arm of the treadmill. “Maybe I don’t want to go to fancy Italian places.”

Zach huffs out a breath, but you have his interest.

“Maybe I’d just like to hang out with you.”

Suspicion narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Maybe I like you? Did you consider that? Maybe, for some bizarre reason, I think you’re nice and attractive?” you wave your arms, frustrated.

Zach folds his arms across his chest, pursing his lips. “I used to be a Marine, but I had to resign my commission because I got hit hard with PTSD. I lived on the street for two years.”

You hold his gaze as he speaks.

“Why are you telling me this?”

But then you know. He’s telling you so you’ll turn tail and go back to Damon, with his suits and fancy haircut and ability to take you out for $100 dinners.

He expects you to turn him down.

Because that’s what happens. What has happened and what he thinks will happen now.

Zach firms his lips and shakes his head slightly.

“Just go,” he says, so softly, mistaking your silence for pity, rather than resolve.

“No.” Instead, you lean up on your toes and touch your lips to his.

He starts, and then holds perfectly still. You break the kiss, and look up into his face, and he’s gazing at you like you hung the moon and all the stars.

“I like you, Zach,” you whisper. “And I don’t care if our first date is a picnic in the park.”

He blinks, turning away from you for a second, and then he ducks under the arm of the treadmill, and he’s so close that you breath catches.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, and then he cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he means it, lips and teeth and tongue, and it’s everything.

You spear your fingers into his hair and breathe him in, press yourself against the hard wall of his chest, sigh his name against his lips.

“I gotta shower,” he says, with clear reluctance, his voice half an octave lower, unsteady from a kiss that has rocked both your worlds. “Then, let’s see about that picnic.”

**********

Zach Pit & permanent taglist: @mrschiltoncat @astroboots @songsformonkeys @biblioworm @aeryntheofficial @thirstworldproblemss @wheresarizona @pedropascalito @knittingqueen13 @alwaysbethewest @agirllovespancakes @f0rever15elf @heatherbel @frannyzooey @lannister-slings-and-arrows @sarahjkl82-blog @thedazeinmylife @holographic-carmen @idreamofboobear @fromthedeskoftheraven @disgruntledspacedad @chicken-nugget-puta @miulola @nelba @alienprincesspoop @tardisfangurl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylonelylittleappreciation @filthybookworm @absurdthirst @thestrawberry-thief @lilangeldevil006 @marydjarin @jedi-mando @havenforafrazzledmind @myoxisbroken @10-96dispatcher @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @mrsparknuts @roxypeanut

#zach wellison x reader #zach wellison x gn reader #sfw fic #brothers and sisters fic

194 notes · View notes

kookicat · 4 years ago

Text

Consequences That He Renders

He's shaking hard enough for her to feel, fine tremors running through his hands, his arms and it's freaking her out because as a rule, Eliot Spencer isn't a man who shakes. The last time she'd seen it was after a job went majorly, horribly bad, when he'd been so battered and bruised and bloody they'd actually managed to get him to visit a hospital. It's too dark in the car to get a proper look at his face, but the streetlights offer glimpses and she'd swear on a stack of hundred dollar bills that he's pale, eyes shadowed, gaze fixed at some point miles past the glass.

The car hits a pothole, hard, and he grunts, lip curling, one hand creeping up to cup his left shoulder. It's the one he favours first, some nagging remains of an old injury, and it makes the tension in her stomach curl a bit tighter, like a snake burrowing into the sand for the night. She's a thief; she's trained to notice the smallest detail because it can be a matter of life and death if she misses something. Another piece of the mental jigsaw she's building clicks into place when he shifts, jaw tightening as some sore spot somewhere presses against the seat.

"Eliot," she starts, resisting the urge to poke him, to see how badly he's hurt this time in favour of leaning over a little.

"Parker," he says, voice hoarse with exhaustion, and turns towards her. He can't quite meet her eyes. Another piece. Something bad happened. She's not great with emotions but she's learning. It's not shame on his face, but sorrow.

"Are you okay?" She gives into the urge and presses her hand against his arm, half expecting him to move away.

He doesn't, just blinks tiredly at her and dredges up a weak smile. "I'm fine," he says and she lets the lie slide because she knows he's not fine at all.

"What happened, at the warehouse?" She keeps her eyes on his face, seeing a flicker of something before he shoves it down deep.

"I did my job. Got Nate and his Italian friend out of there." As he says the words, voice flat, the smell of cordite floods his nose, thick and bitter and choking. He can feel the weight of the guns in his hands, feel the shock of the recoil burning up his wrists as he takes the next target out. As he kills the next man, the voice in the back of his head mocks.

It had felt clear and clean in the moment, the kind of clarity only found at the right end of a gun but he's reeling, because he stepped into the kill box and didn't expect to walk back out. His life for his team's, a fair and more than even trade. He'd do it again in a heartbeat, but after the fact, he's not quite sure how he managed to survive.

"Oh," she says, voice so small, it makes him really look at her. There's a pensive frown between her eyebrows that he longs to wipe away but his hands aren't clean and he doesn't want to stain her. She needs a distraction, and he inadvertently gives her one when the car hits another bump, forcing another soft grunt out of him.

He's wrenched his back and bad shoulder all to hell and he's pretty sure that both knees are skinned raw from his slide. There's a low grade throb in both hands that he knows will evolve into a full on ache before too much longer. He knows guns, but he rarely uses them and he's paying the price.

"I thought you said you were okay!" She reaches for him, and he wards her off with one arm, biting the inside of his lip when she grabs his arm right over a growing bruise.

"I've had worse," he says, and it's true. He's pretty sure nothing is broken. He's just sore all over, abused muscles aching but it's not life threatening, just enough to make him miserable.

Something in her eyes shifts and she blinks, hard, hand tightening a little on his arm. He expects her to speak, but she just presses her lips together and leans against him gently, staying there until the car stops.

Hardison looks up from his laptop, taking in the scene with a sweep of his eyes, and gets out, coming round to open the door. Parker slides out of the other side and Eliot realises with a jolt they're all waiting for him, even Sophie and Nate.

It's going to take him a moment to get out and he'd really rather not have an audience for the performance.

"I'll catch up," he says and holds his hand out for the keys.

Parker snatches them from Nate. "We'll catch up," she says, giving Hardison a meaningful glance.

Sophie catches on and takes Nate's arm, tugging him towards the hotel entrance, casting a worried glance back at the car as she goes.

Eliot gets a good look at his friends’ faces and chokes back a sigh. They're going nowhere at least not without an argument, and he just doesn't have the energy for it right now. He swings his legs out of the car, pausing for a moment when his back spasms, then forces himself to stand. Being upright hurts, the long muscles in his abs tight and sore, back aching. The shootout ran him through the wringer and the aftereffects are starting to kick in.

"Come on, man," Hardison says and leans past Eliot to slam the car door. One hand lifts like he wants to offer assistance, but the older man shoots him down with a quick look.

They flank him, Parker on one side, Hardison on the other as he limps towards the entrance, feeling the denim peel away from his knees in a way that makes him want to hurl. His shirt is sticking to his back in a similar way and he rolls his shoulders in annoyance. It sends a bolt of pain down his spine and he stops, eyes closing until it eases.

"You're freaking me out, man," Hardison says, running his gaze over the other man, checking for blood. There's a few spots - his left shoulder is sporting a nasty blood stain, as are both of his knees, but nothing major jumps out. They've seen him hurt worse and walk it off but this time is different and Hardison just can't put his finger on why.

Eliot starts walking again, eyes fixed on the doors, but he's distant, pensive and Hardison realises with a jolt that's the problem. There's a level of quiet they only see from the older man when he's really hurt but that doesn't tally with the visible injuries and it's ringing alarm bells in Hardison's mind.

He glances at Parker, getting a nod in return. Something dreadful went down in that warehouse, bad enough that Eliot doesn't want to talk about it, bad enough that he's pulled back into his shell. The thought of what it could be sends a chill down Hardison's spine. Part of him wants to push, to needle a confession from the other man but a bigger part of him doesn't want to know. Their hitter had done his job and got everyone back safe and beyond that the details don't really matter. They won't judge him no matter what he did.

There's an elevator waiting in the lobby and they shuffle into it. The mirrored walls show Eliot just how bad he looks, and he suddenly understands why his friends are so concerned. He's pasty, dirt streaked and vaguely clammy in the air conditioning. He wants a shower, a change of clothes and a time machine, so he can go way back before this whole mess started and stop Nate from throwing them at Moreau. He knows which of those he's likely to get and leans against the wall with a sigh.

He's lucked out on this stay, managed to get a room to himself and he fishes in his pocket for the key, vaguely surprised it's still there.

Parker and Hardison are looking at him and he licks his lips, tries to dredge up some sort of response and settles for a quick, tired smile that he knows doesn't come close to reaching his eyes. "Thanks," he says and unlocks the door, "I'm going to go clean up. See you in a few."

He ducks inside, closing the door on them, knowing it's a shitty thing to do. He's pretty sure they'll forgive him, pretty sure they'd already figured out this wasn't a normal job and he's not in the mood for twenty questions. He pauses, slides the chain into place like it'll stall Parker for more than a couple of seconds if she decides she wants in.

Pain runs through his fingers as he grabs a change of clothes and carries them to the bathroom, starting the shower. His clothes stink, a bitter mix of smoke and cordite and sweat and he struggles out of them, throwing them in the corner for now. The water engulfs him, washing away the physical traces of what he did and it suddenly hits him, hard enough to unlock his knees so he ends up sitting with his back to the shower wall.

The tears are a surprise, because he thought he'd forgotten how to cry, used them all up. He pulls his knees up and rests his forehead on them, gulping in breaths when black spots swirl through his eyes. He's not weeping for the men he killed - their own choices put them in that warehouse, and none of them was an innocent - but for the man he was becoming, someone closer to the kid he searches for everyday in the mirror. They leave him aching and empty and hollow and it's going to take a while to soothe the new raw spots inside his soul.

He's chilled from sitting in the cold tile and the water is starting to run cold so he forces himself to his feet, reaching for soap and a washcloth, scrubbing any last trace of the battle from his body. It stings in places, highlighting minor cuts and knicks he didn't know he had until the lather found them, painting a map of damage to his body. He can't quite lift his left arm high enough to wash his hair and settles for doing his best one handed. He rinses, shivering, under the now cold water and steps out, wrapping a towel around his hips, leaning towards the mirror to find out why his shoulder hurts so much.

There's a splinter longer than his hand in the back of his shoulder. He can see it in the mirror but he just can't get the angle to dig it out. It hurts, a nasty throbbing ache that makes him want to tear his arm off and he tries again, flinching when his fingers just brush the wood. He's going to need help and stoops to find his phone in the pile of filthy clothes, sending a quick message.

He drys himself, slipping into soft sweatpants, draping a towel carefully around his neck to catch the water trickling from his hair. Somehow he's not surprised to find Parker and Sophie are already in the bedroom when he opens the bathroom door and steps out. There's the big medical bag between them on the couch and he pauses, steeling himself because the damn thing has to come out but it's not going to be a fun process.

"Hi," Parker says, voice just a tiny bit unsure, like she's not sure how he's going to react.

"Hey, Parker," he says, voice so rough that he winces, tries to swallow. "Sophie."

He's not sure which one of them is more surprised when she stands, wrapping her arms around him carefully.

"Thank you for bringing him home," she whispers in his ear and he nods, having to swallow hard before he can answer.

"I'd do the same thing for any of you," he says simply and lets himself lean into the hug for a second.

The towel slips and she gasps when she sees the sliver of wood lodged in his flesh. "Jesus Christ, Eliot!" she says, ducking out of his arms for a closer look. "This is not a little problem!"

He flinches, a little at her raised voice, knows they both notice. "Still needs to come out."

The room has a small table and he turns one of the chairs, sitting down slowly and resting his good arm on the back. His left shoulder doesn't want to bend and he gives in, tucking his arm in in front of him.

"Eliot, are you sure about this?" Sophie asks. "I'm sure we can find an actual trained medical professional to remove this from you."

He scoffs at that. "It's a splinter. If it was somewhere I could reach, I'd be digging it out myself right now."

"It's going to hurt," she says and if his head wasn't already throbbing, he'd roll his eyes at that. It already hurts, and getting it out before an infection sets in is his main concern.

"Just do it," he says, and put his chin down on his good arm, watching Parker as she lays out various medical supplies on the table in front of him. There's tweezers, squares of gauze, dressings, tape and wound ointment. He bites the inside of his lip, lifting his head to speak. "Grab the scalpel and stitch kit too," he says simply and she nods, one sharp bob of her head and reaches back into the bag.

Sophie presses an ice pack over the wound and he shivers under the chill, but it helps, takes some of the throbbing away and he's damn grateful for that.

Parker slips a pair of gloves on and moves behind him, reaching over him to grab some gauze and the tweezers. The closeness makes him feel twitchy and his hand tightens on the chair.

He grits his teeth as she lifts the ice pack off and probes the sliver with the tweezers, the plastic catching on the wood. It makes him flinch, muscles twitching and he feels her freeze behind him.

"I'm okay. It's okay," he says quietly. "Keep going."

"Tell me, if you need me to stop," she says, one hand brushing his bare back before she gets to work with the tweezers again.

It's a nasty sliver, maybe four inches long, jammed in the muscle just under his shoulder blade. The end is ragged and friable and every time she thinks she's got a good grip, the wood breaks off. The muscles in his back are tense under her hands, breathing deliberately steady and she knows all the poking must be agony.

"Parker," Eliot says, voice slightly hoarse, and she stops instantly. "Just cut it," he adds and blows out a ragged breath.

"Cut you, you mean?" She glances at the scalpel and shudders.

"Yeah," he says, and turns as much as he can to look at her. "That's where the damn thing is, after all." He's pale again, eyes shadowed, and there's a fine sheen of sweat on his face.

She licks her lips and nods. "Tell me what to do."

He does, in more detail than she ever wanted and her hand only shakes a little when she picks the scalpel up, trying not to think as she follows his instructions, swabbing his back with antiseptic first. Shaky doesn't seem an acceptable trait for performing minor surgery and she presses the ice pack against his shoulder until she has the shake under control. She places the blade against his skin and makes one swift cut. It frees some of the splinter and she reaches for the tweezers again but the wood still stubbornly refuses to come free.

It rips a pained grunt out of him and he swallows so hard she can hear it.

"Eliot…" Parker says, free hand on his good shoulder, thumb rubbing absent circles on his skin. She looks up, meeting Sophie's horrified gaze. It's not the first time they've had to do stuff like this and given their jobs, if probably won't be last but that doesn't make it any easier.

"Just get it done," he rasps, tacking on please as an afterthought to soften his tone.

"Okay," Parker says and makes the cut bigger, swiping away blood and letting the gauze drop to the floor.

His back is still under her hands, but she can hear the strain of it in his breathing when she goes in with the tweezers again. His good hand is gripping the chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white, head tipped forward so his hair falls past his face, hiding his expression.

Blood wells again as she gets a good grip on the wood and tugs. It moves this time, sliding out maybe half and inch and Eliot makes a noise halfway between a hiss and a grunt.

His whole world has distilled down to the throb in his shoulder, the sharp but cleaner pain from the incision, the ache down his back as he fights his instincts to stay still so he doesn't scare Parker half to death.

"Nearly done," Parker says, and he can hear the wobble in her voice that means she's crying and trying to hide it.

Must be the day for it, he thinks. "You're doing great," he tells her, because she is. It's a damn brave thing she's doing, and he's not sure how to make her understand how grateful he is for the help.

She changes her grip on the tweezers and takes another hold on the sliver, pulling slowly, easing it out from under his skin. The entire thing slides free suddenly and she feels like cheering. "It's out," she says and drops it on the table in front of him.

He swipes his hair back from his face, blinking at the damn thing in surprise. It had felt huge in his back, like a stone in a shoe, but it's actually bigger than he'd expected.

"Well, fuck," he says simply, and takes a deep breath that doesn't pull obscenely at his shoulder.

Sophie hands over a dish of antiseptic and more gauze. "It says it doesn't sting," she says and takes a minor risk, resting her hand on his arm. His muscles tense under her touch at first before he blows out a long breath and lets himself relax.

She's right, it doesn't sting at all as Parker cleans the wounds, adding wound ointment for good measure before taping a dressing securely over the top. He's glad she's being so thorough because pallet wood tends to be coated in all kinds of dirty stuff and the last thing he wants is an infection.

He's exhausted and all he wants to do is give into the pull of the bed and sack out for a couple of hours, give his brain and body chance to rest a bit but he's painfully aware of Parker standing next to him, face pale.

"Thank you," he says. "Feels better already," he adds, and it's not quite a lie.

She nods, sharply and he forces himself to his feet, accepting a t-shirt from Sophie who tips her head towards the door and slips out quietly.

"You were shaking in the car," Parker says and he sinks back into the seat. "Why were you shaking in the car, Eliot?" she asks, like it's something she can't quite square in her mind.

He licks his lips, knowing he's too exhausted and mentally fried to have this conversation right now. He also knows that he owes her. "It was a rough fight," he says simply, after a long pause, thankful there's enough cuts and bruises on his skin to sell the story.

"Did you kill someone?" She can't look at him and he feels a stab of self hatred rip through him, more painful and cutting by far than the wound on his back.

He hesitates, again, because he doesn't want her to think badly of him, but she's been brave enough to ask the question and he needs to be brave enough to answer. "Yes," he says and doesn't try to explain or excuse it. He did his job and he'll take the consequences, no matter how much they hurt.

"Okay," she says and looks at him. "You should rest," she says and a rush of gratitude races through him for the way her brain works. She's got the answers that she wanted and she's not going to press him for more.

He stands, body aching, and brushes past her, dropping a featherlight kiss on her temple on the way to the bed. "Stay?" he asks, in the same tone she'd once used on him, and she nods, curling up one one side of the big bed, one socked foot resting against his calf.

It takes him a while to get comfortable and he watches as the tension slowly drains from her face before he lets his own eyes close.

Thank you, he thinks. Thank you for not hating me. Thank you for giving me another chance when I don't deserve it.

He's not sure how or why or which God is setting up a long joke at his expense, but he's found a family and he's going to do everything he can to keep them whole.

Even if it costs him more of his already tattered soul.

That's a consequence he can live with.

Losing them isn't.

#leverage #eliot spencer #whump #hurt/comfort #parker #team as family #emotional whump #big bang job tag #minor surgery

229 notes · View notes

darkmindsotome · 4 years ago

Text

On the Riverbank

Title: On the Riverbank

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Kei Soejima x MC

Word count:3,963

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: After suffering from cabin fever a date is in order. Only this simple date plan is going to get spicy.

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #15: Free Prompt (Picnic on the River)

---

I was willing to blame uncontrollable events on the fact that we hadn’t managed to go on a date in a while. Between work and recovering from work, it had been impossible to plan anything. However, it had become the new norm for us to remain living together at Kei’s rooms in Raven.

At some point, I began to feel like I had cabin fever. I was happy to be with Kei and a secret part of me loved being at home with him 24/7. To think there was a time when I thought this was a prison sentence. I couldn’t deny the fact I wanted to go out and do something now things had settled down though.

After looking out of the large windows in the suite over the streets of London, sighing for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, into my nighttime cup of tea. Kei put down his book and announced we would be going on a date. Later that night I curled up happily in bed wrapped in his arms and fell fast asleep.

The next day I woke up alone. My mysterious man had vanished before I could say so much as a good morning or ask about our date plans. Patting down the sheet on his side of the bed resulted in me finding them stone cold. He was always an early riser but this was ridiculous. I then noticed a note left on his pillow.

“Good morning, forgive me I had some things to tend to. I have arranged a car to bring you to our date. K”

I rubbed my fingers over his beautiful cursive writing just as a courier arrived at the door and delivered a beautifully wrapped box. The duck egg blue container was almost pearlescent with a thick cream coloured satin ribbon all perfectly tied around it.

The timing was so perfect I really had to marvel at the man organising this and wonder if I was always this predictable or if I would discover a hidden camera somewhere in the room. Opening the box up revealed a single white rose with a card resting on top of a black dress that fitted Kei’s tastes perfectly.

“I can’t wait to see you. K”

The message had me smiling long before I took the dress out of the box. It was a vintage style tea dress with little cap sleeves made from some of the most delicate lace I’d ever seen. It looked almost like patterned smoke.

There was something different about getting ready for a mission and getting ready for a date. The feeling I got from both was similar but I found I was much more nervous about a date than a life-threatening mission. I rushed through my prep stage of shower, hair and make-up.

Slipping into the dress I instantly fell in love with it. Kei knew my measurements off by heart and I was pretty sure he had them on file with his usual tailor so he could get the outfits he gifted me perfect right down to the last stitch.

Walking into the closet to find a pair of suitable shoes I discovered some already sitting out. They were naturally also black with the addition of ribbons that wrapped around my ankles. Securing the bows, I couldn’t help but make the comparison between them and cuffs. I felt heat climbing up from them at the thought. I imagined Kei and what was probably going through his head as he picked them out for me. How his fingers would have traced the shoes and the ribbon. The idea of tying me up was never far from his mind and with these shoes, it felt like he had already started.

Shaking my head, I looked at my watch and doubled checked my reflection in the mirror before leaving to go get in the car. I watched from the back seat absentmindedly playing with my choker as the car took me away from the centre of the metropolis.

The modern landscape changed slowly into something that felt more historic. The buildings looked older; the concrete jungle had passed into something more like a tv drama set. In fact, if I hadn’t known how far I had travelled I might have thought I was somewhere else entirely.

My eyes caught a familiar figure standing near the roadside. He was dressed in more casual clothes. The white trousers, cream coloured cricket jumper with a blue stripe around the collar and the light blue shirt under it all made him look like a student. The car slowed until the backdoors aligned perfectly with him. I had seconds to smooth down my dress and mentally brush off some of the nervous excitement before the door was opened.

“M’lady.” I smiled at the Princely Kei as he offered me his hand. It was all too easy to forget what he truly was like even for me. Yes, I loved his sweet and angelic side, but I also loved that tricky Devil he hid behind his mask too.

“Thank you.”

Kei guided me to his side, away from the car, and sent it on its way. Now completely alone he used our still joined hands to make me twirl for him as he looking me over from head to toe.

“You look even better than I imagined.” Kei smiled and brought me closer to him. Sweeping some of my hair away from my neck so he could brush his fingers along the neckline of the dress and the choker around my neck.

I once more felt the difference in attire. I was all dressed up and felt far more formal than he did. The idea of him being a student once more flitted through my mind conjuring up kinky scenarios of a socialite sneaking off for a romantic rendezvous with a hidden student lover. It was silly, Kei was older than me even if there were times it was hard to tell that from appearance alone.

“Careful now or you might start sounding like Kazuomi.” I joked attempting to forget the thoughts going through my mind.

My eyes naturally fluttered shut. His cold elegant fingers ghosting over my skin was enough to remind me of the many nights we spent together. Where he had dyed me in his own colours and shown me the abyss behind the door to depravity. Joining me as we fell through purgatory to our own private Eden.

“Perish the thought.” He let go of me. A sensation that left me feeling the need to chase him.

Opening my eyes, I saw that impish look on his face. He was slowly becoming more and more adjusted to life outside of his own nightmares and past. It was still obvious he was a little lost and confused at times but when he was like this, I could almost imagine him as a little boy. It made my heart sing to think we could stand here now together and I could enjoy such a candid fragment of my elusive boyfriend.

“Come now we should get this date started.” Kei laced our fingers and matched his pace to mine.

We walked through some trees and right up to the side of a riverbank. There in front of us was a beautiful craft floating on the water. Inside were some large cushions a few blankets and a basket.

“I thought I would show you a little hospitality and tradition.” Kei let go of my hand briefly to climb onto the small craft and then held out his hand again to help me get on board as well.

“We are going boating?” I giggled as the whole thing rocked under my feet. The idea of mixing something traditional from his own country and a date was so him it made me happy.

“Punting. It is quite different but I trust you will enjoy yourself.” Kei’s correction came with all the patience I had come to expect from someone who knew so much and was used to sharing it in the course of his work.

“I think I’ve seen it before. It looked like the river had turned into Venice or something.” I sat down carefully feeling rather small when I looked back up at Kei.

“I can understand your comparison and whilst you can use a pole on both vessels a Punt is different to a Gondola.” He smiled and retrieved the long pole from the riverbank using it to cast off.

I watched him standing near my feet moving the pole through his hands with little effort. If you were really quiet you could hear the smooth wood, polished with years of use, slipping through the water and his palms.

“It doesn’t feel as safe as I thought it would.” I commented as the pole in his hand seemed to get stuck on something under the water and give a little tug that made the punt slightly rock.

“I assure you that I am an excellent Punter.” Kei’s expression was so deadpan and relaxed as he declared this I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I get the feeling your friends would be doubling over in laughter right about now hearing you say that.”

“Yes, they probably would. Thankfully they aren’t or I would have tipped them both into the Thames and made them swim.” He looked down at me. The shadows from the trees we were moving through were casting shadows on his pale skin. I didn’t miss how his playful eyes shone through the shade.

“You wouldn’t…”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride. I did consider placing the seat facing forward but selfishness prevented me from doing so. I wanted to see your face, forgive me.” The Devil faded in the light once more replaced by the charming Prince.

“You know I never once pictured you doing this?” I sunk back into the cushions, finding them much more comfortable than I thought they would be. The blankets as well were a mixture of textures but each one was thick and luxurious.

“Oh? Punting has been a traditional pastime in England since the 1860’s it really caught on by the 1880s and 1900s though. Before they became used for recreation these little crafts were used as part of the transporting of traders.” He spoke as he manoeuvred the pole and pushed us forward in the water. “Are you familiar with Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes of course it’s a children’s classic.” I happily nodded. I know it is kind of a strange thing to enjoy but I did genuinely love how knowledgeable he was and how he explained things. It was like having my own personal tour guide and professor.

“Quite so. Well, the author Lewis Carroll used to punt along the Thames and during one of his outings where he was with a friend’s children he started to tell the story of a curious little girl who followed a rabbit. He later put pen to paper and created the beloved tale as a gift.” He lowered his voice as if he had just shared a piece of information vital to national security.

“I didn’t know that.” I don’t know what face I was showing him when he looked down at me. His face seemed to soften, although it could also have been my imagination.

“Literature aside I thought I would show you some more of England than the inside of Raven or shopping in the capital.” I looked around at the countryside slowly passing. I knew there was more to London than concrete and cars but I didn’t think there was this much greenery.

“I thought the Thames was larger than this.” I mused and put my hand over the side dipping it in the cool water playing with the ripples made by the punt as it moved.

“It is. We are currently on one of its many streams. Still part of the river but not as heavy with the tourist trade. You will also know of the boating traditions between Oxford and Cambridge, yes?” Kei always seemed to become a little more animated when talking like this. It was like he suddenly had an outlet for all the bottled-up information and facts he had in that well-read brain of his.

“The boat race?” I titled my head against the sun and saw him nodding happily.

“Yes, it is covered by the media extensively at the time. Well, the competition between the two on these waters doesn’t stop with rowing. There is a traditional Oxford way to Punt and then there is the traditional Cambridge version.” Kei grimaced theatrically as he explained.

“Haha, you don’t sound like you approve of the Cambridge way.”

“I am an Oxford man.” He almost seemed to stand up straighter as he said that. “The flat raised planking behind you is called the Till. A Cambridge man would stand on the Till and punt like so.” He stepped over me and demonstrated what he meant. It caused the punt to lurch which had me clinging to the sides of it thinking it might tip us both in the water. “Whereas an Oxford man, He will stand in the punt and work from here.” Kei stepped back into the punt and resumed moving us from inside. The vessel settled back down and I ended up breathing a sigh of relief. “Also a notable difference is the till. Following Oxford tradition, it is always facing front in the direction one is moving."

"I had no idea there were so many traditions.”

“There are more but I fear any more information will bore you under this hot sun. Here should be suitable.” He pushed the punt so it brushed up against the bank again this time next to what looked like a very secluded spot. The grass was short and looked to be recently cut. Surrounding it were high hedges and some trees.

“What is this place?” I asked as we left the punt for more stable ground.

“You will find them all around. They are locations people usually used for picnics.” Kei spoke as he stuck the pole into the bank and tied the punt to it.

“Are they all this well maintained?” I was still looking around. I don’t think I have ever been to a part of London that has ever made me feel so totally alone. It was pleasantly unusual.

“The ones that are owned are yes. This is one of my family’s spots.” He leant over and scooped up the basket and grabbed a blanket. With them in hand, he then walked into the centre of the grass and quickly set up.

“What do you have hidden away in your basket of tricks?” I sat down on the blanket and waited for him to reveal his secrets.

“We have tea, the very seasonal and traditional strawberries and cream.” He placed a flask down next to the punnet of fresh fruit and a pot of thick white cream. “We also have peanut butter sandwiches…”

“You made this picnic, didn’t you?” I couldn’t help but giggle. When he said he had things to do in his note I thought it would have been work-related. Now I had visions of him shopping and preparing this picnic instead.

“What is wrong with it?” He asked. His golden hair shining like a halo under the sun.

“Nothing just it's very you. If you had brought the basket from somewhere or had someone else make it, I doubt peanut butter would have made it on the menu.” It was true he could have ordered it from room service or had it made up somewhere in town and just brought it along. The fact that he actually made anything himself was endearing.

“Did you want something different?” His expression shifted and he looked like a child that was waiting to be scolded.

“No this is perfect.” I reached over and took one of the sandwiches from the plate in his hands.

“I did think of bringing some Pimms but I reconsidered.” Kei recovered fast, the cracks in his mask reformed.

“Why?”

“The time of day for one thing. I mean as Kazuomi would argue it's five o’clock somewhere but I would hate for you to be so drunk you fell overboard.” He poured some tea from the flask and handed it to me. Our fingers touching for a second, more than long enough for me to realise his body temperature was still as cold as normal.

“We both know I have a better tolerance to alcohol than that.” How can he do that? It was so hot the world could be melting and Kei would still be sitting there in a pullover surrounded by his own internal climate control. “You said this was one of the quieter parts of the River. Why come here? Oops!”

I had been so concerned with not spilling the tea he had given me I had completely misjudged the integrity of the sandwich in my hand. Part of it failed to make it to my mouth and vanish down the neckline of the dress. Embarrassment threatened to bloom inside me and I really hoped Kei had missed what I had just done.

“Is it a crime to want to spend some time alone with my girlfriend?” His voice was so close and I hadn’t felt the blanket move or even seen him shift. Yet he was right next to me his face so close to mine I could feel his breath in my ear. “Honestly I did think of following one of the other paths of the river. There are more pubs and places to go along them but I wanted to enjoy something more scenic with you.” He trailed his fingers along my choker and then slipped them down the front of my dress. “Now I’m glad I made this choice.”

“Something about how you just said that makes me think you weren’t referring to a quiet picnic together.” I acted cooler than I felt. I knew he could feel my heart beating and see the pulse running wild in my neck. All the time I faked being calm as his fingers extradited the rogue peanut butter sandwich from my body.

“You always were very observant.” I followed his hand as it carried the salvaged food to his own mouth. Those eyes of his locked on me looking like pools of golden lust.

They drew me to him like a spell and held me there as he locked me up in his arms, his hands roamed freely over me. Tumbling back together onto the blanket the picnic was threatening to be forgotten.

“Mmm Kei.” My breathy cry came out as he nibbled on my collarbone and began moving a hand up my leg under the fabric of the dress.

“Careful now. It might be a secluded spot but there is no telling who you might summon with a voice like that.” He teased as his fingers did some teasing of their own. Rubbing the outline of my sex through the sheer fabric of his favourite lace panties.

“As long as one of the people I summon is you I don’t care.” I was done with coy. Coy and demure didn’t get you anywhere fast with this man. There was a time and place for all that and when we were alone and things were heating up was not one of those times.

“Mmm, have I ever told you how stunning you are when you are honest with your desires?” He slipped his fingers past the lace pressing his thumb onto my clit before pumping a couple of digits inside me. I wanted to moan louder but his warning from before made me stop.

I looked up and found him smirking. He knew I was holding back. He knew I was trying to be a good girl but damn him if he wasn’t trying to break me.

“I don’t think I can remember.” Two could play that game and I tried to make it look like I was still in control. With every stroke from his hand, I was losing my sanity, but I kept up a strong front and played the game.

“Then I’ll have to take my time and remind you.” He moved on top of me his hand still driving a fever through my core as he spread my legs wide with his own.

“What about the picnic?”

“There is time enough for both. I don’t intend to let anything here on this blanket go to waste.”

His voice purred erotically as he slid the zip on the dress down my back and dragged the bodice low enough to expose my breasts. The cap sleeves I had thought were a nice addition were now part of the binding of fabric that was preventing my arms from freely moving.

Kei brushed his fingers over the lace of the bra and once more slid his hand inside. Treating each nipple to a firm pinch as he ravished my mouth with his tongue. I squirmed under him trying to wrap my legs around his and return the restraint in kind.

“Hehe, you really are the only one that has ever tried to dominate me.” His laugh was like a clear bell whilst the things he was doing to me had my head crashing like a drum.

“Kei… please stop teasing me already.” I moved some more only to find his weight was gone. He had stopped touching me completely and was sitting back on his heels looking at me.

“As My Lady commands.”

I watched as he licked his hand clean and used the other to undo his belt and trousers. It wasn’t unusual for him to remain clothed but it rarely happened where it was so bright. I bit my lip as he rolled my dress higher exposing all of me. He said nothing as he undid the strings on the panties and placed them into his pocket. The silence was deafening given how aroused I was. He leaned over and dipped a strawberry into the thick cream holding it just out of reach of my mouth.

“Eat it.” His command seemed absolute even if it was given in a sugary-sweet tone. I tried to stretch for it but couldn’t. His eyes twinkled and his smile became more wicked. “I guess if you can’t be a good girl then I’ll just have to treat you like a bad one instead.”

I felt my core tighten as he brought his palm down with a crack against my bare thigh. He pressed down on me again. His mouth connecting with mine. Fruit and cream filled my senses as he used his own mouth to feed me. The escaped juices were lapped up by his tongue as he arranged himself to take this to the next level.

“Ah!” A slight sharpness ripped through my body and was quickly numbed as the pleasure of us finally connecting took over. With each rock of his body, it moved my body against the ground far more than the swaying of any boat.

Our mouths connected again and again at different angles to the point where I was sure I had forgotten to breathe. His fingers ran through my hair sometimes pulling grabbing at it but each time it only emphasised his desire for me and made my whole body tingle.

I never did find out if anyone else was around as Kei had said or if it was all just another layer to his devilish lies to set the mood. I did discover that I would never be able to eat a picnic again without the addition of a peanut sandwich.

---

#summer of smut #summer of smut content creation challenge

34 notes · View notes