#On that note I should start writing that snuff Fic one day..... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

absurdthirst · 5 months

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Evidence of a Date {Tim Rockford x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN(ish), snuff films, power of suggestion, hypnosis, compulsory need to fuck, rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral sex (male and female receiving)

Comments: Asked to assist Detective Rockford with finding evidence on a supposed snuff tape, you find it to be very different from what either one of you were expecting. Leading you to some surprising outcomes.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Tim Rockford MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Getting called into the Captain’s office is never a good thing. No matter how clean you keep your nose or what rank you are, even as a Detective. “You wanted to see me, sir?” Knocking and opening the door, you are surprised to see Rockford sitting in a chair opposite the captain’s desk.

“Come in, shut the door.” He waves you in and your stomach twists, wondering what the hell is going on. You’ve worked with Tim before, but not recently. You’ve been too busy with your own caseload. “I need you to do something for me.” Captain Carnell is a no bullshit man, a pragmatist who hated sitting behind a desk. “Tim’s got a video he needs to go through, evidence.” You frown slightly, unsure why that should have any impact on you. “It’s a snuff film, supposedly and the forensic team refuses to touch it.” He grumbles and you still don’t quite understand.

Tim shuffles awkwardly. “I need to watch it. And I need another set of eyes.” Your head turns towards him. “You can keep your mouth shut, unlike 90% of the others around here.” It’s true, cops like to gossip and if it is a snuff film, the details need to be kept quiet while the investigation is ongoing.

“I see. And that’s why you called me in?” You ask the captain.

“Yes.” Carnell nods. “Tim asked if your cases could be transferred and you to help him on this, and I think it’s a good idea. That way there’s no talk of sexism if the case goes nowhere.”

You nod. “Of course.” You agree, not sure if you’re dreading watching the video or spending all your time with Tim more. It’s hard working with someone that you are hopelessly attracted to and know that it’s unrequited. “I’ll move my cases over to Robertson and we can get on the case right away.”

Your captain nods, “excellent. After closing time, go to the break room. He’s secured the room so it will be just you two.” Tim nods, crossing his arms and you glance between the two men. “Go back to your paperwork. Half an hour…the office will be closed up after everyone heads out and you can get started.”

You nod and Tim shuffles a little as he exits the office, holding the door open for you. “Thanks for helping with this. It’s - it could be the breakthrough we need and I know it’s gonna be hard to watch but I’m glad you’re helping me with it.” Tim says quietly as you stand in the hallway before you get to the bullpen.

“It’s okay.” You don’t know what to expect. Hopefully it’s not too gory, you have been to plenty of crime scenes, but you had hoped to go to a party tonight after work. Even if you stay late to work on the case, you could get there later. “We’ll watch the tape and then make any notes before we go back through it again.”

Tim nods, reaching out to squeeze your upper arm. He can’t help but think you look gorgeous today. Well, every day really but you’d never want him. He’s older. He’s divorced and has a ten year old son. He’s got baggage and you deserve the world. With a sigh, he makes his way back to his desk, eager to finish the work day to spend time with you. God, he’s pathetic. He’s desperate to spend time with you. Even if it means watching a snuff tape. The day seems to drag by and finally he sees his colleagues starting to pack up and he wipes his hands on his pants, glancing across the room to your desk.

Your cases have been passed off you and endured the grumbling, telling Robertson to talk to the captain if he had a problem with it. Finishing up some paperwork while you wait for everyone else to go home. “You leaving?” One of the other detectives comes by your desk on his way out.

“No.” You shake your head and look down at your file. “Backlog of paperwork. Captain’s on my ass about it.” You know most of them have every intention of heading down to the bar for happy hour. “Drink a beer for me though, okay?”

Tim is asked the same thing except he got waggled eyebrows as most of them know about his crush on you…everyone except you apparently. He sighs and pushes back from his desk after everyone is gone. “You want a coffee before we get started? I’ve got…something to add if you want to take the edge off.” He says, pulling out a small flask as he looks at you.

“Detective Rockford.” You sound scandalized, but you grin as you pick up your coffee cup. “Absolutely.” You laugh as you start to walk towards the break room. “At least if we can’t go for happy hour, we can brace ourselves for what is to come.” You tell him, emptying out the sludge in the pot and setting it to make a fresh batch. Lord only knows how long you will end up staying. “So where did you get this tape from?”

Tim sits down and sets the flask down on the little coffee table in front of the sofa in the break room. He’s slept on the sofa before. Especially when he was trying to crack the case of the old woman who was murdered for her inheritance. It kept him up all night and he ended up sleeping in the office a few times while looking over the case. “I have an inside contact. He’s looking for immunity and he left me a copy of the tape. Some mafia bullshit…it’s heavy. Supposedly.” He tells you, watching you make the coffee.

“So don’t plan on wanting to eat, got it.” You frown, deciding it was a stupid idea to ask Tim if he wanted to go out to that little dinner down the road from your apartment anyway. You were work colleagues, not romantically linked. “As long as it’s not a kid, I’ll be fine.” You admit softly, looking up from where you are pouring sugar and creamer in your cup to get it ready for the coffee. “I hate when it’s kids. I can’t imagine how you feel, having your son.”

Tim shakes his head, rubbing his cheek. “That - any kid - it kills me. Wondering what I’d do…how id feel if someone - I think you’d be locking me up because I’d burn the fucking world if something happened to Billy.” Tim confesses and you come over to the sofa with your cup and a cup for him. “Thanks sweetheart.” He says, grabbing the remote. He doesn’t call you sweetheart in front of the other guys but you’ve always been close to his heart. “You ready?” He asks you, wanting to make sure you’re mentally prepared.

It’s almost embarrassing how much you enjoy when he calls you sweetheart, not taking offense to it at all. It’s almost like an endearment and you cherish it. “I’m ready.” You tell him after taking a deep breath, knowing you need to be professional.

He grabs the flask, pouring a generous amount of whiskey in each mug before he sets it down. “Just to take the edge off.” He says before he takes a sip and hits play on the tape. He’s tense beside you, waiting to see the gruesome scene unfold.

"I hope that we don't have to finish the flask and go find a bottle." You murmur as you immediately take a large sip of your doctored coffee. Enjoying the slight burn before a naked woman walks into the view of the camera. Obviously set up in some kind of bedroom. "Well, fuck." You hiss. "It's gonna be one of those snuff films."

Tim shifts awkwardly as the woman comes over to the camera, her tits swaying as she adjusts it before she steps back and a man appears behind her. “Yeah. I, uh, I wasn’t told that this was - yeah. Sorry.” He blushes slightly, knowing he’s secretly wondered what you look like naked more than enough times.

"It's okay." You take another sip of your coffee before you look over at Tim for a split second, eyes flying back to the tv. You watch as the man starts to massage the woman's tits. "It's not like I've never watched porn before." You tell him, wanting him to relax slightly. "Caucasian female, approximately mid to late twenties, brown hair, Caucasian male, mid forties, short blond hair." You observe. "It looks like there is a tattoo on his left bicep."

Tim had completely forgotten to take any notes, his mind shamefully thinking about you naked and him behind you palming your tits. He leans forward, clasping his hands together to force himself to pay attention. He watches the couple fondle each other and he feels guilty that you’re having to watch this. “I- I’m not sure if he’s the one that gets killed.” Tim says, paying attention as the man’s hand slides down to rub the clit of the woman.

"Most snuff films, it's the woman who's murdered." You huff quietly, biting your lip and frowning slightly when the screen flashes for a split second. "I-" you shake your head, afraid you might have just imagined it. The woman's moan hadn't stopped so you just continue to watch. Your cunt bottoms out when the man slaps her pussy and then starts to rub again, his other hand still toying with her right nipple. "He's left-handed?" You ask, not quite sure but it's a strong theory. "Most often men finger a woman with their dominant hand."

“This is supposed to be the tape of the victim.” Tim says, trying to work through the evidence despite his cock twitching, suddenly aroused and he puts that down to being close to you.

You hum and lean in, trying to pretend the foreplay in the video isn't erotic, or you aren't getting turned on. It's natural, that's what you are trying to convince yourself of. That your panties would be soaked already if you were just watching a normal porn, alone in your room where you could pretend your hand was Tim's. Clearing your throat, you swear you see the screen flash again, but the audio doesn't stop.

Tim swears he saw something flash on the screen but he doesn’t bother telling you. He is trying to conceal his rapidly hardening cock. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead and he wipes it with the back of his hand. “I - this isn’t a normal snuff tape.” He murmurs, confused as the man pushes his fingers into the woman, her moan echoing in the break room as the image flashes on screen again and he pays attention. “You see that?” He asks, curious if you’ve seen it.

You gasp, but you don't know if it's from the fact that Tim might have seen the same flashes you have, or from how warm you are getting. How your entire body seems to be lighting up, aching for someone, Tim, to touch you. "I- yes?" You almost ask as you try to keep from moaning quietly.

“What - What does it say?” He asks, wondering if you’ve seen it better than he did and he tugs on his tie, loosening it and undoing the top button. Suddenly overheated, he shifts his feet and his fingers flex as he smothers down the urge to touch you.

“I don’t know. It’s- it’s flashing too fast to read.” You know you should probably stop the tape and go back, but you can’t. “Is it- fuck, it’s hot in here, right?” You ask him, biting your lip when the woman cums on the tape, moaning softly as you wonder if Tim would finger you before he fucks you or if he would just shove his cock into your needy pussy.

“Yeah. It is.” Tim murmurs, suddenly boiling hot and he unbuttons a couple more buttons on his shirt, his tie pulled over his head to fling it down on the sofa. The man grabs the woman, dragging her to the bed and he wastes no time pushing into her, her moan echoing in the room and the screen flashes again. This time slower. The word ‘Fuck’ flashes again, and again. Tim is rock hard now, unable to tear his eyes away from the tv.

“It’s saying ‘Fuck’.” You breathe out, unsure why someone would cut that word into a snuff film. “Right?” Your cunt is throbbing and you squirm as you watch the couple fuck on the screen. You bite your lip, trying to keep your breathing regulated and you want to touch yourself, or have Tim touch you.

“Ye-yeah. That’s what I- shit. It’s so hot.” He says, unbuttoning another couple of buttons and he undoes the wrist buttons, rolling his sleeves up. ‘Fuck’ flashes up on the screen again and Tim grunts, unable to resist palming his cock through his pants. “So-sorry. I- shit. I’m so hard it hurts.” He confesses, “you should - you should go.” He says, trying to get you away from him before he breaks.

You snort, pressing your thighs together. “Of course you are. We are watching two attractive people have sex.” You reason. “And it’s been a long goddamn time since a man made me cum.

Tim frowns, turning his head for a second to look at you before he focuses on the screen again. “It has? How? You’re - Jesus. You’re gorgeous. I always thought you had a secret boyfriend or something and just didn’t tell us.” He admits as the man fucks the woman harder and the screen flashes again. ‘Fuck’ Flashes and almost burns in his retinas as he sees it when he blinks.

You squirm again, wanting to shove your hand into your panties and rub your clit. “No time to date.” You groan. “You know how it is. Long hours. Turbulent cases. I just- have a vibrator.” You hiss when the screen flashes again. “Fuck! Why does it keep telling me to fuck?” You cry.

Tim bites his lip, his gaze flicking between you and the screen. The man flips the woman over to push back inside of her, making her cry out. ‘Fuck’ flashes again and Tim shakes his head, “I don’t - shit - I can’t - I need to-” He surges forward to cup your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours as ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’ repeats in his mind over and over again until he no longer controls himself.

It’s such a fucking relief to feel his lips against yours that you let out a small sob. Pulling him closer and pressing your entire body against his as ‘Fuck’ flashes in your mind again and again. Driven by some unseen force that is practically compelling you to touch the other detective. The need for him clawing under your skin like a drug.

His hands slide down to grab your waist, dragging you not his lap as his tongue slides into your mouth. The moans continue on the tv and the word ‘Fuck’ continues flashing in his mind. “Fuck.” He rasps out. “I- I can’t stop. Tell me to stop.” He managed to choke out despite grabbing your hips to drag you down on top of him.

“Don’t stop.” You gasp out, rolling your hips down shamelessly to grind against his hard cock. You don’t know why you need him inside you, but you desperately do. “Touch me, Tim.” You beg breathlessly. “Please baby.”

He can’t deny you. He helps you grind down on his cock, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits through your blouse. “I - shit - I need to - to be inside of you.” He tells you, reaching down to work on unbuttoning your pants and he pushes his hand inside to find you wet and ready for him.

"Fuck." You whimper at the first touch of his thick fingers against your clit. "Yes, need- fuck, I need your cock." You groan out, reaching down around his own hand in your pants to squeeze his cock through his. "Now Tim." You insist.

Tim groans when you squeeze him and he slides his fingers between your folds, groaning at how wet you are. “Fuck. I- stand up. Take your pants off.” He demands, working on his belt buckle and his cock is aching, he’s in pain. The word ‘Fuck’ keeps flashing on the screen as the moans continue to pour out of the tv speakers.

Scrambling to your feet, you nearly fall over in your haste to strip down. Pushing down your pants and kicking them off with your panties, your knees shake in need and you are panting like you've just finished a marathon. "Oh fuck." you turn back around and find Tim with his cock in his hand, pumping it furiously. "Oh shit, let me- I need-" You dive back onto his lap, eager to sink down on his thick, uncut cock.

He grabs your ass as you reach between you to grip his cock and he groans when you start to sink down onto him. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck” starts to echo on the tv but Tim isn’t paying attention, to obsessed with the way you are sinking onto his cock. You’re so wet and tight and he loses his ability to breathe as you settle into his cock.

The slightly intense, grim detective looks amazing as he moans for you. Feeling his cock scrub against your walls in the best way as he breaks you open. Making your mouth drop open and a loud moan of his name, your arms wrapped around his neck to keep you upright.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiittt.” He hisses in delight, groaning your name as you start to rock on top of him and his hands slide up to work on the buttons of your shirt, wanting to feel every inch of you. The buttons become tiresome so he just rips your blouse, sending buttons flying across the room and he groans when he finally gets access to your tits, pulling them out of your bra so he can duck down and take a nipple into his mouth.

“Oh fuck!” You cry out when his mouth attacks your breasts. Never imagining he would be such a dominant lover. Tearing your shirt off has you clenching down around him and squeezing him tight in your walls. “More.” You beg, tangling your fingers into his hair and tugging on it, pressing him into your breast. “More, baby, fuck.”

He bites down, sucking on your tits, alternating as he groans into your flesh and you whimper, making his cock twitch inside of you. ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck’ continues on the screen, the moans stopping from the couple as yours replace them, the words on the screen flashing constantly and Tim hisses as he grabs your ass, lifting you up to place you on the sofa so he can fuck into you.

“Oh fuck.” You whine when his cock slips out of you but the second he is driving back into you, your scream rings out. Scratching your nails down his shirt, you wish he was undressed. At least so you could feel his skin under your fingers.

He grunts, leaning down to kiss along your neck. “Imagined this so many fucking times.” He admits shamelessly, “imagined fucking you on my desk. In my bed. In here. In the captain's office. Imagined you a fuck ton. Shit. So tight. Knew you would be.” He rambles, his thrusts deep and slightly frantic as the mantra continues around you.

You moan, unable to believe that he would imagine fucking you. You have never thought he noticed you beyond working together. “Imagined how good you’d feel. How thick you would be.” You confess as he punches deep inside you. “Better that I could have imagined.”

Tim groans, spurred on by your words and the repeated mantra urging him on and he hisses your name as he pushes deep. “Wanna - wanna feel you cum.” He says, reaching down to rub your clit.

You shudder, clenching down around him and digging your nails into his shoulder as you lunge up to bite his chin. “Yes, fuck, fuck me harder.” You beg, driven by this invisible force.

He clenches his jaw, pushing deeper, harder, faster. Sweat beads on his forehead as he kneels on the sofa, lifting your thigh over his hip to get even deeper inside of you, his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Tim, oh fuck, oh fuck.” You choke out, feeling that familiar polling in the pit of your stomach. Except it’s better than using your toy at home. The nerves screaming in pleasure and you kiss every inch of skin you can reach.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck” repeats over and over and Tim hisses as he rocks into you, trying to get you to cum. It’s like he needs you to cum like he needs to breathe. “That’s it. Shit. Gettin’ so wet on my cock. Cum for me. Cum for me.” He begs, his cock twitching as he gets closer to his own orgasm.

The harsh, jarring thrusts are everything you need and more. Pushing you closer every time his hips snap forward and if there was ever a question of Tim Rockford’s ability in bed, this answered it. “Gonna baby.” You squeal, not making any sense, but it doesn’t matter. Your orgasm crashes through you and all you can do is cry out wordlessly.

“Yesss. That’s it. Good girl.” Tim hisses as you clamp down around him and he swears he could fuck you all night long just to hear you cry out his name like that. He rocks you through it, his jaw clenching and he releases a deep groan as he buries his cock deep and cums inside of you, painting your walls.

You whine, loving the feeling of his hot cum filling you up. Panting as you try to catch your breath when he drops his head on your shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Fuck.” He echoes, his cock still hard inside of you. The mantra is still playing on the tv and it’s wiggled into Tim’s head, making him ache for more. “I need - wanna fuck you from behind.”

You are surprised that he can keep going, but you can’t deny that your body still aches for more. “Yessss.” You hiss, clenching down around him and biting your lip. “Fuck me again. Never stop fucking me.”

Tim groans, pulling out of you and his dark eyes focus on the cum dripping out of you and he watches you shift onto your knees. His fingers wrap around his cock as you position yourself until he’s notching himself at your entrance and pushes into you with a groan.

“Fuck!” You cry out, enjoying the sharp ping of pain when he pushes deep and his cock hits the back of your cervix from this angle. “Jesus how are you single with a dick like that?” You moan.

“The job.” He chuckles, grabbing your hips and he starts to push deep, setting another harsh pace. “Divorced. Father of one. Not exactly - exactly Prince Charming.” He says breathlessly as his cock hits hard against your cervix.

“Fuuuuuuck.” You whine, dropping your head down onto the back of the sofa and rocking your hips back. “Don’t- fuck, don’t stop.” You beg him, barely getting the words out as he slams into you over and over again.

“I can’t.” He says truthfully and he slams into you, over and over. Desperate to hear and feel you cum for him again. “Can’t fucking stop. You’re - shit - this pussy is - fuck. Never wanna pull out.”

Moaning softly, all you can do is clench around him while you take his cock over and over again. Feeling like he's in your guts every time he snaps his hips forward and you want him even deeper. "Don't." you pant over your shoulder. "Just fuck me forever."

Tim nods, sweat glistening on his forehead and neck as he pushes into you over and over again. “I will, baby. Oh I fucking will.” He promises and groans when you clench around him. The tv keeps flashing and he hears ‘Fuck’ in the back of his mind over and over. “Jesus Christ. Never wanna stop.”

Your eyes slip closed. 'Fuck' flashing in your mind over and over again. Like you are possessed by this need to fuck. You moan his name and push your hips back. Needing more. Needing him deeper inside you. It doesn't matter that you've always dreamed of having sex with him, you need more of it. You whine, biting your lip so hard that you almost feel your teeth break the skin. Humming in agreement as you push back more forcefully. Letting his hips slam against your ass hard enough to rock you forward and press your chest against the back of the sofa.

“Good girl. That’s it. Yes. Yes.” Tim grunts, loving how you are pushing back against him. “Keep going. Keep - fuck - need you to cum again.” He pleads, leaning over your body to kiss along your neck, his hand cupping your tit to squeeze and pinch the nipple.

Gasping at the pain, you reach down. Frantically rubbing your clit as he hammers into you from behind. Striking that perfect spot deep inside you. "Gonna cum!" you squeal seconds before you clench down around him.

“That’s it, baby. Cum. Cum. Shit - need you to-” He chokes when you clamp down on his cock and he groans when you soak him, his cock nearly trapped inside of you but he manages to move to work you through it and he’s so close. “Shit. Baby. I- I’m gonna - I gotta - fuuuuuuckkkk.” He growls as he cums for the second time, painting your walls.

Whimpering Tim's name, you relax into the sofa, feeling him coating the inside of your cunt in his seed. Closing your eyes and sighing at the feeling, a small smile on your face. "So good. Feels so good." You moan quietly.

Tim exhales shakily, turning his head to see the screen has gone gray and he pants, leaning in to kiss your neck before he slowly pulls out of you, his cock finally going soft. “Shit.” He hisses and shifts to sit down on the sofa.

You turn slightly, grabbing your ruined shirt to sit down so you don’t leak cum all over the sofa. Other officers use it too. “God.” You pant, flopping back and trying to catch your breath. “That was- holy shit.”

Tim’s chest heaves, the mantra finally leaving his mind and he leans against the sofa after tucking himself away. “I guess…I guess it’s not, uh, it’s not a snuff tape.” He chuckles breathlessly.

"No." You frown slightly, wondering why it was said to be a snuff film when you think you saw both people in the film, alive and exhausted. "I- it was so strange. I kept seeing the word 'Fuck' flash on the screen between the scenes. Did you?"

“Yeah. It’s like - it’s like it burned into my retinas and all I could think of was fucking you and Jesus…I - did you want me to - or have I just-?” He can’t even sound out his thoughts, too horrified at the thought of it being what it could be.

"No!" Your eyes widen and you quickly shake your head. "I wanted you to." You promise, rushing to reassure him that it was something you had been very enthusiastic to experience. "I needed you too. It was like I had to have you or I was going to go crazy." You admit. "I thought I was pretty good at hiding my feelings."

The detective’s head swivels over to look at you. “You mean you- this wasn’t just the crazy hypnosis snuff video? You - Christ above, sweetheart. You have any fucking idea how many times I’ve thought about touching you…about being inside you…about loving you.” He adds softer than his prior exclamation.

You bite your lip, trying and failing not to grin at his confession. It seems like what could have been something troubling has turned out pretty fucking good. "So, I guess it was a good thing that you watched this with me rather than Robertson." You joke softly.

Tim’s eyes go wide as he turns to look at you, “thank the fucking Lord.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “That video…I don’t know what the fuck that was but we, uh, we gotta report it because this - it might not be so consensual for the next ones that get it and it could be dangerous.” He says, trying to focus on his job again instead of the way your lips look utterly kissable again.

"Who gave you this tape again?" You ask with a frown. "Why would they tell you it's a snuff film when it's.....obviously not?" It is concerning that it was given to a detective, and you wonder if it was meant to cause havoc in the department. Or the crime lab. "Normally this would be examined by the crime lab......not us."

“Yeah. The, uh, you know Greg? He gave it to me. Told me the crime lab didn’t have a working VHS so I’d have to watch it if I wanted to get the evidence from it.” He says and frowns, “he - he kinda knew I had a thing for you. Might’ve mentioned it when he noticed how pissed I’d get when the others talked about you behind your back.”

"Others talk about me?" You frown slightly, although you know shit talking is a part of being a cop. Especially a female detective in a male dominated field. "And Greg told you to watch this...with me?"

“They - they talk about your body. Your ass…what they wanna do to you. I- I try to shut them down. Say it’s disrespectful and yeah…he told me to get the captain to have you assigned to the case and I thought it was just to have your brains on the case…not - not this.” He gestures to the tv.

"Do you think Greg knew what was on the tape?" You ask quietly. reaching out and taking his hand and squeezing it gently for his kindness. For sticking up for you.

Tim looks down at your hands and shakes his head, “I don’t know babe. I- shit. I’m so sorry I put you in this situation. We gotta try and trace this tape back. We can’t let this shit get out.” He says, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.

"I know." You nod as you look over at where the tv is still displaying a gray screen. "Maybe we need to take the video out of the station." You hum. "You know how nosy all these assholes are."

Tim nods, “I can take it home. Hide it.” He says, squeezing your hand again. “And I- I wouldn’t mind going to dinner with you sometime.” He adds, staring at the gray screen as he anxiously awaits your answer.

"I don't think we are going to get much work done tonight." You admit. "And I don't know about you, but I'm starving." You shrug. "I would say let's go to that dinner around the corner, but you ripped my shirt, so how about I make you dinner at my place?"

Tim nods, “how about I meet you at your place and I can pick up some Chinese food. Save you cooking.” He adds, “and then maybe we can talk about what happened when we are clear headed.”

"That sounds good." You agree, standing up and picking up your panties and pants after you tuck your boobs back into your bra. You wonder if he will blow you off, or if he wants to actually meet you at your place.

He knows your order from late nights in the station with everyone. He stands up, adjusting his shirt and he grabs his tie, shoving it into his pocket. “Sorry about your shirt. You, uh, want to use my jacket?” He offers, knowing you’ll want your decency when you leave.

"I've got an extra shirt in my desk drawer." You tell him with a grin. "For those all nighters." You know he understands that. Most detectives keep a complete change of clothes in a drawer just in case. "But help me hunt down the buttons?"

Tim nods, kneeling down and he blushes when he sees how far the buttons went. “I was - Jesus. That video made me feral.” He admits and picks up a few buttons. He hands them to you and when you stand there, he gently reaches up to cup your cheek, his eyes meeting yours as he leans in to kiss you softly.

You've kissed, but it had been frantic and needy. This is so much more gentle. A real kiss that is not because of that video. "I- thank you." You murmur quietly.

“You deserved better than that for our first time.” He murmurs as he pulls back, “I’ll make it up to you.” He promises as he looks at you. “Lemme grab your shirt from your desk just in case.”

“I don’t know.” You admit as you pull your pants back on. “I think multiple orgasms and being fucked within an inch of my life was a great first time.” You laugh. “Although I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to suck your cock.”

Tim smirks, feeling confident now that you want him again and enjoyed earlier. “Don’t you worry baby. Maybe later…we can explore each other a little more.” He smirks and you giggle. “Let’s get out of here.” He says, walking over to the TV to eject the tape.

“That’s an amazingly suggestive tape.” You hum as you watch him analyze the tape like it might tell him its secrets. “Let’s go, Rockford.” You order with a smirk. “I’m starving and the captain authorized overtime, but I’d rather have our next viewing of the tape be in my bed.”

Tim’s eyes widen, “you wanna - I’d rather have you without watching the tape.” He tells you and you smirk, nodding, “that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” He grins and follows you into the bullpen so you can collect your things. “You wanna come in my car or I can follow you?”

You smirk and shrug. "I might as well take my car." You tell him, "since I think that we won't be back in the office until next week." You wink at him. "Might cause some rumors if I leave it here."

Tim nods, willing to follow your lead and he grabs his things as you put the shirt on. “Come on, babe.” He says once you’re ready and he guides you out of the station to your car, glancing around to check out the surroundings like he always does.

You smile at the way that his hand rests on your hip. Protective and possessive. Waiting until you unlock the door to hold it open for you. "I'll meet you at my place?" You ask, glancing over at him. "You remember how to get there?"

He knows where you live, having dropped you off during late night stakeouts and ops. He waits until you’re in your car with the door locked before he makes his way over to his vehicle, quick to leave the parking lot and follow you to your house.

It's a bit nerve wracking, knowing Tim is following you. Excited in a way that you don't understand, you keep watching his car in your rearview mirror.

He grips the steering wheel, a little nervous actually to be going to your place if you are regretting sleeping with him. He calls up the Chinese restaurant to place your orders and he makes his way there. After picking up the food, he makes his way to your place and rings the doorbell with the food in hand.

In the spare time you had while Tim got the food, you had jumped into a quick shower. Bare feet and comfortable clothes are what greets him when he knocks on the door and you open it with a smile. "Hi." You greet him, waving him in. "Do you want a beer? Something stronger?"

Tim chuckles, “tempted to have something stronger but a beer will do. I don’t wanna be on anything around you. Especially after that fucking tape.” The tape is currently hidden in his glove box. “I wanna be sober around you.”

You nod in agreement and lean in to press your lips to his. "A beer it is." You hum, closing the door behind him and leading him into the kitchen. "I'll get the beers and some plates."

Tim checks your door is locked before he follows you into the kitchen, setting the bag of food down on your counter. “I haven’t been in here since you hosted that party after Samson closed that cold case.”

“Yeah, that’s been awhile.” You open the fridge and grab two beers to open before you turn back to him. “That was right after you and your wife divorced.” You wince slightly. “I’m sorry about that. I know it was rough. I hated that you were under a lot of stress during that time.”

Tom shakes his head as he takes the beer from your hand. “It was over a long time ago. We - we stayed together for our son and - shit. She really gave me hell.” He confesses, “anyway. I, uh, I guess I never really asked about your dating life. Never wanted to know if you had a boyfriend that I could be jealous of.

“No dating life, not when I wanted someone at work.” You confess.

Tim's eyes widen as he absorbs your words before he chuckles, "you mean you were lusting after Jackson?" He teases, knowing the nearly retired old man is not the one you wanted. "I, uh, seriously though...I didn't know. I was a little busy eying you up without being a creepy asshole." He admits, licking his lips.

“You shouldn’t have worried about being creepy.” You smile softly. Despite the fact that you had been junior to him. It’s one of the reasons you respect him, he wouldn’t abuse his authority. Now both of you are equals, so there is no worry about improprieties. “Although now you can eye me up however you want.”

"Well that's good to know." His eyes slowly trail along your body, enjoying the fact that he can unashamedly admire you. "You're so fucking pretty, baby." He says after a moment, his fingers flexing around the beer bottle.

“Do you want to eat and talk, talk or just eat?” You ask, not sure what he wants to do. Despite the fucking that had happened at the station, you still want to touch him, but you know you can’t just act like a horny teenager.

"Let's talk and eat. You need to eat after how I - you know." He clears his throat and blushes a little. "I kinda - I kinda wanna touch you again but only if you want." He adds, suddenly nervous.

“I want to touch you too.” It’s endearing that he had fucked you so hard earlier and now he’s blushing. “If you want, of course.” You smirk slightly as you turn back to the cabinets to get the plates and silverware.

Tim’s eyes drop down to your ass as you get the plates. “Of course I want to.” He scoffs like you asked him a ridiculous question. “Baby, let’s sit down and eat. You need food after I - well, I’m starving.” He admits, taking out the containers after opening the bag.

You hum, dipping out some of the food onto plates and take them over to the small table while Tim carries the beers. “We do need to refill the tanks, so to speak.” You laugh. “I have to admit, I was shocked when you kept fucking me.”

“So was I!” Tim exclaims with wide eyes. “I ain’t eighteen anymore and I- shit - that kind of stamina…not my normal gig I gotta be honest. Usually I cum once and that’s it. I need a nap and a snack before I’m ready to go again.”

“A nap and a snack, huh?” You giggle at that, finding him too cute and you lean over to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m normally a ‘once and I’m good’ kind of girl too. But tonight?” You point to his sweet and sour chicken. “Eat your snack baby.”

He grins, liking the way you think and he must admit he’s eager to have you again. He grabs a plate to start serving up his food and he grabs his beer and follows you into the living room after you’ve grabbed your own plate. “You wanna watch something on RV?” You ask and Tim bites his lip, “maybe not the best considering the last thing we watched.”

You snort and nod, biting your lip as the two of you sit down. “So, where do you see this going?” You ask quietly. “Something serious? Causal? I wouldn’t blame you after the divorce.”

Tim sets his plate down on your coffee table, "honestly? I kinda want to date you. I want to take you out for dinner and see where this goes." He admits, "unless you want casual but...I'm not really a casual kind of guy."

“I don’t really like casual either.” You admit, turning towards him after setting your own plate down. “I would have put up with it for you.”

He's taken back at your confession and he smiles, "guess we both suck at casual. I was thinking about asking you out, you know? I just didn't want to be that creepy older guy that asks you on a date and makes it awkward at work when you said no."

“I would have said yes.” You promise, leaning in and touching his hand. “Tonight just….sped up the timeline.” You joke. “And will give us one hell of a first date story.”

Snorting, he nods as he takes a bite of orange chicken as he squeezes your hand with his free one. “Yeah. Maybe we can edit it a little bit.” He teases, “and hopefully you include the detail of me having a big cock.” He jokes, winking at you.

You giggle and your cunt clenches. “Don’t worry. That fact will be repeated with the high praise on how well you use that cock.” You promise. “Don’t think I’ve ever been fucked so well.”

Tim can’t help but grin with pride at your statement and he swears he will make you feel that way if you let him touch you again. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart.”

Both of you finish your meal, chatting about different things, different cases you had been working on. Setting your plate down with a content sigh, you drain the last drops of your beer and look over at Tim. “So, do you want to go back to my bedroom? We could take a nap, or….”

He watches you for a moment, “bedroom…I wanna touch you in a bed. I wanna have my mind be my own when I touch you next.” He says, reaching for your hand to pull you closer so he can lean in and press his lips to yours.

You can agree with that. As much as you needed him back at the station, you want to be in control. This time, your arms go around his neck because you want to keep the kiss going, slowly feeling his mouth out as it starts to deepen.

His tongue slides against yours and he groans into your mouth, loving how you feel as your fingers tangle in his hair. “Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth when you’re a little rougher but he loves it.

You love how his embrace is solid. The steady weight of him beside you makes you shift to straddle him. Settling back into his lap and pressing close, there’s not the urgency of before, but you are learning each other

His hands trail along your body, enjoying how you feel pressed against him, and the kisses are slow, passionate and he loves it. His hands slide down to squeeze your ass and he can’t resist slapping your cheeks before he grabs them again.

“Tim!” You gasp into his mouth and laugh, enjoying the smug smirk on his handsome face. Reaching up, you tangle your fingers back into his hair as you continue to make out. You know how he feels inside, but this is almost more intimate.

He kisses along your jaw, down your neck and bites gently over your pulse. “You’re so Goddamn beautiful. Inside and out. Why you want me, I’ll never know.” He confesses, knowing he’s fucked up but he’s gonna take this opportunity to be with you by the fucking horns and ride it as long as you want him.

“Because you are a good man.” You’ve seen plenty of men who pretend to be good but they are rotten at their core. Tim Rockford is honest, noble. “I want to take you to bed,” you confess softly. “Can you go again, or should we just cuddle?”

Tim nods, "I can go again." He is surprisingly half hard and he rocks up to grind against you, showing you he can be ready. "Let's go to your bedroom." He says, smacking your ass again and you stand up. He stands up after you and takes your outstretched hand as you guide him to your room.

In your bedroom, that’s where your personality shines. The bright, beautiful colors of your bedding and the natural light. The bookshelves are loaded down with novels and the slightly messy open closet door. “Sorry.” You move to close the door. “Didn’t think I would have company today when I left.”

Tim snorts, "this is nothing. You should see my place. It's chaos. My boy leaves his fucking legos on the floor and guess who steps on them in the middle of the night?" Tim asks you, eyebrows raised.

You giggle, imagining him cursing and stumbling over the blocks in the dark. “Ouch.” You wince sympathetically. “I know that hurts.”

"It does." He tells you with wide eyes, glancing around your room before he exhales softly and steps closer to you. He reaches up to cup your cheek, "I really do think you're beautiful." He murmurs, his dark eyes burning into yours. "Can I eat you out?" He asks, curious if you'll be happy for him to do that.

It’s your turn to be surprised by the request. “I- yes.” You sputter. “It’s- are you sure? You want to do that? I mean, I’m not complaining, but we- you came inside me.”

Tim snorts, “I put it there. I’m sure I can clean up my mess.” He says and smirks at you, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get naked. I wanna see all of you. Wanna taste every inch of you. Take my time.”

“It’ll be nice seeing you this time.” You admit with a grin, letting him pull your shirt over your head and reaching for the buttons of his collared shirt. “Never had a boyfriend who would go down on me after sex.” You admit with a giggle.

Tim lets you push his shirt off of his shoulders and he’s a little self conscious. He’s not toned. He’s strong but he’s not abs and no body fat. He likes his food and he doesn’t tend to have a lot of time to exercise. He flusters slightly when you run your fingers down his chest.

“Sexy,” you coo softly, wanting to touch and kiss every inch of him. You knew that you were attracted to Tim, but your cunt is dripping at the sight of his chest and he hasn’t even removed his pants yet. “So fucking sexy.”

“You are.” He hums with a smirk and he reaches for your bra, unclasping it to pull it down your arms before he flings it across the room. “Baby. Fuck. You’re so sexy.” He murmurs and reaches up to cup your tits, squeezing them. “Great tits.”

You laugh, amused at the awe-filled look on his face as he palms your tits. As if he can't believe that he is touching them. "You've got a great cock." You hum, reaching down and cupping him. "Feels good. I want to see how it feels in my mouth instead of my pussy."

Tim groans at your filthy words. "Shit baby. You - you are fucking incredible." He compliments you as he gropes your tits. "Wanna - wanna make you cum. How do you wanna cum?" He asks, curious and eager.

You whine, eyes closing at the feeling of his hands on your body and the promise in his words. Anything you want is yours it seems. “I want you to eat me out.” You admit breathlessly. If his head game is good, this man is the complete package.

"Fuck. Take your pants off." He demands, his cock aching in his pants and he decides to push them down after unbuckling his belt. His boxers soon follow after he kicks off his shoes while you strip down to nothing. "Shit. So fucking gorgeous. Lay down." He demands again, the edge in his voice is raspy but commanding.

You shiver, laying down and wondering why it’s so sexy that he is taking control. You watch him, greedy as your eyes roam over his nude body. “Come here.” You beg, wanting him to touch you.

He shifts to kneel on the bed, his hands trailing along your thighs until he's pushing your legs open so he can take in the sight of your cunt. "Fuck, I-" He can't say another word as he surges forward to bury his face in your cum slick folds.

Crying out, your hands tangle in his hair. Closing your eyes, you enjoy how eagerly his tongue flicks over your clit. It’s magical, breath stealing as he devours you. Making you so glad that you had invited him home.

He groans into your flesh, loving how you taste, and he hisses when you tug on his hair in a way that makes his cock twitch against your sheets. His fingers dig into your thighs as he keeps you spread open so he can devour you.

Tim isn’t proper when he is eating you out. He’s messy, ravenous. The sexy little grunts and sighs as he takes you apart with every flick of his tongue has you moaning his name, rolling your hips down to meet his eager tongue.

"Fuck. You taste-" He groans as he pulls back for a second before he surges forward to bury his face in your folds again. He loves the tangy taste of your arousal and the salt of his cum. He doesn't give a shit about tasting his own essence on your flesh and he laps at your clit.

“Tim, oh fuck, baby.” You moan, rolling your hips again and whimpering his name once more when he tightens his grip on you.

He shifts, letting go of your flesh so he can push two thick digits inside of you. Calloused from holding a pen all the damn time and he curls them before he resumes sucking on your clit like a candy.

“Shit.” You hiss, shuddering and your breath catching at the curl of his fingers deep inside of you. Pressing perfectly against that magical place that makes you squeal out his name when he presses again.

He groans your name, “that’s it baby. That’s it.” He mumbles into your cunt when your walls flutter around his fingers, pressing against that spot over and over again. “Cum for me.” He demands before he resumes sucking your clit.

It doesn’t take you long. Only a few more minutes before he is pulling you apart. Your nerves fraying and your entire body bursting with pleasure when you start to come apart. Crying out his name and flooding his mouth with your cum.

Tim eagerly laps up every drop. He pumps his fingers into you, loving how you moan and writhe under his mouth. He caresses your thigh as he works you through it until he feels you relax, practically melt into your mattress.

You whimper, letting go of his hair and trying to drag him up to you for a kiss. Desperate to give him the same kind of pleasure that he had just given you.

His lips meet yours and he slowly withdraws his fingers, enjoying the way you slide your tongue against his and his wet digits grip your thigh. “Wanna be inside of you again.” He murmurs between kisses he presses to your jaw, needing to hear you say you want him again.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” You ask breathlessly. You’ve imagined it so many times but if he would rather fuck you, you are all for it. “I will always want you inside me.”

Tim bites his lip as you lay under him. “I kinda want you to suck my cock. Then I want to fuck you.” He decides and you giggle, pushing on his chest. He obediently shifts to lay down, his hard cock resting on his stomach and you move onto your knees.

“Fuck.” You whimper, wrapping your fingers around his cock and giving him a slow squeeze. “Imagined myself on my knees for you so many times.” You admit. “Even wondered if I could fit under your desk.” That makes you giggle again, imagine having his cock down your throat while he types up a report. “Now I get to taste you.” Lowering your head, you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, tongue pressing against the bead of pre-cum.

“Oh fuck.” Tim hisses when you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around the head of his cock. “Baby. You look so pretty like this.” He murmurs, unable to close his eyes, wanting to see every second of this and burn it into his memory.

You preen under his praise, taking him deeper and wanting to give him the best blowjob he’s ever had in his entire fucking life. Holding onto his hip while you take him down to the back of your throat and swallowing around him.

“Jesus.” Tim hisses as you swallow around him, your jaw almost unhinged as you take him deeper and your eyes are watering. “Fuck, sweetheart. Look so good.” He murmurs, reaching down to caress your cheek, enjoying the feel of his cock pressing against your cheek.

You hum, letting it vibrate through him with a grin. Enjoying the feeling of his hand on your cheek while you concentrate on not choking. You want to take him deeper, to wrap your lips around the base and you slide your fingers out from around the base to hold onto his hips.

“Oh oh oh shittt.” He hisses before he pants, his cock twitching down your throat as your nose brushes the coarse hair at the base of his cock. “Baby. Baby. Shit. You gotta - I can’t - it’s too much.” He admits and grabs the back of your neck, trying to pull you off of his length.

You lift off of him with a gasp of air. “You don’t want to-“ you bite your lip but Tim shakes his head. “Want to be inside you.” He reminds you, rolling your body under his again and your legs fall open to brace on either side of his hips.

He’s slower this time. Hovering over you, he reaches down to grip his cock and he positions himself at your entrance. He pushes into you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he braces his hand on the side of your head.

This time, he slides into you an inch at a time. Slow enough that you swear you feel his heartbeat fluttering against your pussy walls. Letting you moan softly and wrap your legs around his back, heels pressed into his tiny ass as you enjoy being split open by him again.

He exhales shakily once he’s fully inside of you. Groaning your name as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Fucking perfect.” He murmurs, cock twitching when you clench around him. “Gonna take our time. Want you to cum again for me.”

As frantic as the time in the station was, this is equally as slow. More like love making than anything else as Tim slowly pushes and drags his cock in and out of your walls. It's a good thing, since you are a little sore from earlier, but you wouldn't have him stop for anything in the world as you two kiss.

His lips press against yours over and over again, his weight shifting onto his forearms so he can press his body against yours. Your heels dig into his ass, pushing him impossibly deeper with every thrust into you and he swears he could stay like this forever.

You moan his name, holding him tight as you move with him. Wanting to be as close as you can get without crawling up inside his skin. “Fuck.” You whimper, his pelvis rubbing against your clit as he grinds down into you. It’s intense and totally consuming in the best possible way as he builds you back up.

"So fucking beautiful. So fucking smart. Too good for me. Too fucking good for me." He murmurs as he kisses along your neck while he rocks into you, his hand reaching back to lift your thigh higher so he can grind even deeper into you.

“Why?” You gasp out, unable to comprehend why he would think you’re too good for him. “Handsome, smart, sexy, capable.” You groan, clenching around him. “You’re a fucking catch.”

Tim chuckles against your neck. “I fucking - I got more baggage than a Goddamn airport, baby girl. I gotta - I have an ex wife and a son. It’s not - most women don’t wanna get involved in the drama.” He explains breathlessly as he rocks into you.

“No drama.” You moan, tightening your legs around him. “Mileage.” You tease playfully. Despite having an ex-wife, you know that he’s a good man, not a perfect one - but a good man. His son, well, he would be part of the deal and you couldn’t imagine thinking otherwise.

“Mileage.” He repeats with a chuckle. “Like an old corvette.” He jokes and slides his hands under you, getting even closer to you. His hips rock against yours a little faster, wanting to feel you cum around him.

“Classics are still fucking sexy.” You whimper when he hits deep inside you, striking the perfect angle. “There, fuck, right there Tim.” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He frowns, concentrating on that spot to make you cum. He pushes into you a little faster, not changing the angle of his hips and he watches your brow furrow and your mouth fall open. “Shit baby. Look so good.” He murmurs, “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes!” You gasp, feeling the tension nearly snap the next time his hips rocket forward. Almost cumming right then. You just need one more thrust. Your body lurches when he pulls back, lifting up to meet him, and you squeal his name when he thrusts back into you, making stars erupt behind your eyes.

“Shit.” Tim hisses when you clamp down on his cock. “That’s it baby. Shit. So tight.” He pants, loving how wet you feel around him as your nails dig into his back. He works you through it, slow and deep despite the vice grip on his cock, and he kisses slowly along your neck.

“So good.” You whimper, panting for breath as you come down from your high. “Want you to cum.” You murmur softly. “Fill me up again.”

Tim clenches his jaw, his pace picking up a little more as you tell him to cum. He pants, rocking into you harder and faster, practically folding your body in half as he seeks his own high until he chokes, his body coming to a halt as his cock twitches. His hot cum paints your walls and he hisses your name as he rides his orgasm.

He’s fucking gorgeous when he cums. His eyes are closed, jaw slack with pleasure as he pumps you full of cum. Groaning and twitching deep inside of you, making you moan again. “Fuck baby.” You coo, caressing his neck and cheek. “Amazing.”

He exhales heavily as he relaxes. His lips meet yours as he leans down to kiss you. The kiss is slow, his tongue caressing yours, and he enjoys being inside of you.

You let the kiss linger, not in any rush to pull away and you don’t drop your legs from around him until your breathing has calmed down.

Tim nudges his nose against yours, shifting onto his side with you while he's still inside of you, not wanting to pull out just yet. "So I should definitely take you on an actual date." He says, his dark eyes on you.

“Maybe.” You smile as you answer him, leaning up for another kiss. “Maybe a romantic crime scene. We can flirt over evidence markers.”

Tim chuckles, “we do that anyway. But I mean, an actual dinner. Wanna take you out. Wine and dine you. What do the kids say nowadays?” He teases, nudging his nose against yours. “Well, they say Netflix and Chill.” Tim snorts, “pretty sure we already did that. Snuff Tape and Fuck.” He jokes before his face gets serious, “dinner. Wanna treat you right.”

“That sounds good to me, detective.” You murmur with a smile. While you don’t know why the film came to be in your possession or who had made it, you’re sure that you’ll figure it out. After all, Tim Rockford is a legend on the police force, solving cases and in this case, putting this one to bed.

#pedro pascal #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford smut #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford imagine #merge mansion

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crucifiedfaerie · 11 months

Text

Gods & Monsters ༉₊˚✧

GodOfDeath!Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader AU

(THIS IS A DARK!FIC PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS AND THE AUTHORS NOTE BEFORE PROCEEDING !!!)

➴ Summary: Death has followed you like a shadow your entire life. After losing everything, you call out to him in a moment of desperation. Maybe that was his plan all along.

➴ Word Count: 2.2k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI under any circumstances, DARK!FIC, fem!reader, dom!kylo, a lot of angst, BLOOD, major and minor character death, reader is suicidal, kylo is the god of death, kylo is obsessive, selfish, and manipulative, stalker!kylo, reader is naïve, a little soft!kylo bc he loves her but again he's selfish so should i really call it that ??, soul selling, SMUT (manipulation therefore DUB-CON, very rough sex, unprotected PiV sex, sadist!kylo for a second ??, naked sub/fully clothed dom, dacryphilia kind of, light bruising, blasphemy and sacrilege), typos probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: guys did i just lowkey write a snuff fic? maybe. (yes) its left up to you to decide if this has a happy ending or not. kylo is selfish and manipulative, yeah, but hes also sexy and in love so idek how to feel myself. @enviedear and i have been playing around with the idea of godofdeath!kylo in our dms so special thanks to liv my beloved <3 i hope you guys enjoy and i also completely understand if some of you aren't chill with the themes of this fic.

It appeared that death followed you wherever you went, trailing behind you like an invisible shadow you couldn't escape. It started when you were younger with any pet you would get mysteriously dying, you don't know when but at some point you had given up on trying to keep them. Friends and family followed suit over the years, all of them as tragic as the last one. It was as if Death was puppeteering your life, tugging on the strings that held your heart together... and you didn't quite understand why.

You couldn't seem to remember what it was you'd been thinking about on your walk home. Maybe it was what your mother had decided to make for dinner. You stared at the pot still boiling in the eerily quiet kitchen. Or perhaps it was how you had promised your sister you'd play with her when you came home. Your eyes darted to the toys that had been carelessly scattered over the floor of your family's shared bungalow, noticing how a light mist of crimson coated them.

You tried to remember, but one singular word kept interrupting your thoughts. Blood. All you could smell... was blood.

You tried to scream but it was as if the air had been stolen from your lungs. All you could see was red. Red. Red everywhere. On the floors. On the walls. When you saw them, the shriek that escaped your heaving chest pierced the silence of your home, bouncing off the walls and ringing in your ears.

Your family was dead. Slaughtered and discarded on the floor as if they were simply livestock.

As you backed away, you nearly slipped in the puddle you realized you were standing in. The sticky, wet sound your shoes made as you moved was revolting and you felt acid burning at your throat. You stumbled into the living room, just barely making it to the soft carpet before falling to your knees. You heaved, but nothing happened, your empty stomach having nothing for your body to forcibly expel.

You collapsed to the floor, body wracked with sobs. You screamed and screamed until you thought your vocal cords might tear.

Gone. They're all gone.

You don't know how long it had been. Maybe hours, maybe days. You laid there, your screams subsided to sobs and you wanted nothing more than to be with them... No, you wanted to be them.

Why couldn't it have been me? Why my mother? Why my sister? Please, I just want to die. Please Please.

For what felt like an eternity, you silently begged for death. How ironic, you thought, that you begged for the thing that had taken everything from you. You had already dealt with plenty of loss to last you several lifetimes, and now you had lost the last two people you loved. There was no physical pain on this planet that would ever compare to what you felt now. You only wanted it to be over.

You saw something out of the corner of your eye. A tall, dark figure, lurking in the shadowy corner of the room. You looked up, attempting to blink the tears from your raw eyes, unable to make out any distinct features of the being that stood before you.

"You- Did you do this?!" You sobbed. "Did you k-kill my..." You couldn't even say it. If you said it out loud, that meant it was real.

The figure stepped forward, allowing light from the window to cast down upon him. Your teary eyes widened as you realized who this man... this being, was. The aquiline nose, dark locks, and scar that trailed down his cheek you'd recognize anywhere. Kylo Ren, the God of Death, stood before you. You had only heard of him in legends, but he was even more marvelous looking in person.

"I do not take. I only collect." Ren said firmly, yet a hint of compassion laced his words, making you feel... safe? In any other situation, you would have laughed at the idea of feeling safe around the literal personification of death itself, but you were in no mood for laughing. He continued. "I hear souls call out to me, and I answer."

"My family... who did this? Why wasn't I-" You choked out, weakly pointing to the adjacent room behind you. You began to sob again, feeling hot tears run down your face.

"Raiders..." Ren knelt on the floor in front of you, getting down to your level before continuing. "Sweet, mourning lamb, there's nothing you could have done. They went quickly, I made sure of that." He reached out a large hand to gingerly wipe the tears from your face, and you melted into the divine warmth of his fingers.

"Did you come b-back for me too? Please, I don't want to be here anymore- I can't do it without them, please! I'm nothing!" You begged him through sobs.

"Not to me." Ren sighed calmly, a sympathetic smile resting on his expression. "I do not answer the calls of souls whose time are not up... but you're different, special..." He trailed off, his voice still firm but sounding like he was was pondering something.

"I don't understand..." Your voice was just above a whisper.

Ren paused for a moment, the two of you sitting in silence as his dark eyes scanned yours. He held out his hand to you and finally spoke. "I want you to join me. Let it all die, let everything go, and I will give you what you so wish for."

Your eyes widened at his request, staring into his intense gaze. "Join you?" You croaked.

He nodded slightly. "Rule by my side, little lamb. I feel so drawn to you, I always have... And I know you've felt it too." His tone was soft, but there was a small shred of desperation there.

"And everyone I love? My family and friends?... Will I see them again?" You began to turn your head to look at the door to the kitchen, but a strong hand grabbed your chin at light speed, turning your head to look at him again.

"No- You're still... Holding on! Let go!" Ren raised his voice, startling you. He was inches from your face and his eyes were filled with pure panic, as if he were afraid you were changing your mind.

Memories of your family and friends played like a movie reel in your head. So many moments that you'd never get back. They were gone, and you'd never see them again. What's done is done and you had nothing now.

But as you stared into Ren's wild, dark eyes, you saw an offer being handed to you that you couldn't refuse. An option to never be alone again. To forget every detail of your life as it stands. To not feel the pain that laid so heavily on your heart and soul.

I understand.

You inhaled sharply before placing your shaking and much smaller hand in his. "I'll join you." You said it so quietly, you weren't sure if he had even heard it.

Ren certainly did, however, and within seconds he pounced, closing the gap between you. It was as if your words were an invitation he had been eagerly waiting for and his warm lips crashed into your cold, trembling ones. You felt every emotion at once coursing through your body, and you thought you might spontaneously combust at any moment.

The kiss of death.

He did not pull away though, he only continued to kiss you with more urgency. He pushed you backwards until your back was pressed against the plush carpet. When you touched him, he felt like he was made of marble. As if you needed any more emphasis on the fact that this was no human man that loomed over you.

Ren's large hands began to explore your body, his fingers running along your sides, causing a warm bolt of electricity to shoot through your core. You instinctually moaned against his mouth, and you felt him smirk.

He trailed his mouth down your neck, leaving red and purple marks, before pulling away to admire his work. "You already look so divine in this life... I can't begin to imagine what you'll look like in the next." Ren's voice was low, smooth, and his words dripped with honey. It elicited another moan from you, causing him to let out a dark chuckle.

At near light speed, he practically ripped your clothes off, pulling your shirt over your head first before making quick work of your pants and underwear. You were left naked and writhing on the floor as you watched him work at his belt, kneeling over you.

You couldn't help but think of how morally wrong this all was. This was no simple kiss of death... No, this was blasphemous. Sacrilegious in every sense of the word and you... loved it. You loved how your body betrayed you every chance it got, ignoring every single alarm bell that rang in the part of your brain that clutched onto what little was left of your sanity. It was exhilarating.

With quick fingers, Ren freed his cock from the confines of his pants, causing it to spring upwards. You marveled at him, wondering if maybe this was his weapon of choice. Maybe he would impale you on his dick and literally fuck you to death. You saw him smirk as if he had heard your thought. He most certainly did.

You watched, your body trembling, as he lined himself up with your entrance. Ren did not give you a moment to think before slamming himself into you, bottoming out within seconds. Your view of him was clouded by white-hot stars and he watched as your face contorted from the pain and pleasure of being split in two by him.

Ren's thrusts were erratic, unrelenting as he plowed into your cunt. His fingers dug into your hips, surely leaving bruises... not that it would matter tomorrow. You were completely cock drunk, under some divine spell he had surely cast over you. "Feels... s-s-so.... g-" You trailed off, lost in the violent pleasure he inflicted on your small frame.

He chuckled at your futile attempt to form a sentence. "Look at you, little lamb. Already coming undone at my hand. You want release so badly don't you?" His voice was full of compassion but his words were laced with darkness.

You knew it wasn't only your impending climax that he was referring to. You whined, your eyes welling with tears as you nodded frantically. "Please." You let out in a choked sob.

Ren let out a moan and angled his hips to thrust into you deeper, hitting your g-spot again and again with each erratic snap of his hips. He leaned down slowly, his hair tickling your cheek. "Then let go, sweet thing. Let everything go." He whispered in your ear.

You became putty in Ren's hands as you came, clenching around his cock as he continued to violently plow into you. His lips found yours and he kissed you with wild desperation. After a few more thrusts, he followed suit, bottoming out one last time and letting out a groan as he came deep inside of your cunt.

As you came down from your high, you watched hazily as he fumbled with something on the side of his belt. Ren looked down at you with adoration, and with a swift movement of his hand, you felt ice-cold metal pressed against your naked chest.

When you looked down, it took you a moment to process what had happened. Ren had impaled you through the chest with his lightsaber... yet you felt no pain. Only an intense warmth that radiated through every cell of your body.

Your eyes darted up to his face, illuminated in the crimson glow of his weapon. His expression was soft, attentive. You tried to speak but only a choked whine came out, the air having been stolen from your lungs by the fiery plasma that crackled inside of you.

Ren quickly brought his hand up to hold the side of your face, wiping stray tears and gently stroking your jaw with his thumb. You didn't even realize you had started crying again and you began to taste copper. "Shhh, don't be frightened my mourning lamb. It will all be over soon, just let go... Let go, and you will be mine forever..." His voice was deep but it had a sickeningly sweet quality to it.

You couldn't fully decipher what he was saying, so you focused on how nice he sounded instead. How merciful, you thought, for this voice to be the last one you'd ever hear on this mortal plane.

Your vision began to tunnel in on Ren's face. You thought you heard him call you his mourning lamb. What was it you were mourning again? You couldn't seem to remember what originally got you into this situation. You couldn't seem to remember anything. Anything besides Kylo Ren, that is.

"Finally... At last, you are mine."

The last thing you saw was the smile on his face. There was something... dark about it. His eyes were intense and he looked excited, as if he were finally getting something he'd been waiting ages for. Before you could dwell on it for too long though, everything went black.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfic #star wars #starwars fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars sequel trilogy #the force awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #saint writes !#crucifiedfaerie #dark!fic #kylo ren dark!fic #god!kylo au #kylo ren au

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kth1 · 4 years

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Tiger Layer [Yoongi x Reader]

Tiger Layer [Yoongi x Reader] aka AgustD!king ⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq ⟶ Genre: 21+ | Royalty AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: explicit, king!yoongi, dom!yoongi, servant!reader, spanking, hair pulling, controlling, demanding, blow job, he’s a cocky king (duh), slight gagging, unprotected sex, choking warning, creaming, squirting, hand prints, titty slapped, some nipple play, smut, multiple orgasms, etc ⟶ WC: 3.6k ⟶ Summary: You are here to serve your king. In any way he pleases. ⟶ Teaser: “Who is your king?” he growls, watching his dick disappear into your cunt. Admiring the way your juices shield his sword that pistons deep into you.” ⟶ Author’s note: I had to write a smutty fic about Blonde King Yoongi, fight me. This was literally whipped up within a day, so excuse any grammar problems. But I was too excited about this concept. 😊 *listens to Agust D 2*

The pads of your bare feet held you still against the expensive cold tile. You stand, silk robes dressing your body, staring at the plush royal bed before you. His bedchamber collected many unique riches, all showing his symbol of power.

Straightening your spine at the creak of the double doors behind you, your eyes that scanned the area averted straight. Intently listening to the steps resounding beside you, you swallow thickly.

He says nothing. Walking past your statue of a body standing in the middle of his chamber, you catch the wisp of his long platinum blond hair swaying gracefully in the air when his back comes to view. Your king makes way to the weapon rack, flicking a red tassel that hung loosely from the grip of a sheathed sword.

The black and gold linens of his attire blended well, a deadly combination to compliment the stark graphics of a circle goldened tiger representing authority and the aristocratic status, embedded into his cloth.

You did not dare to look for too long, if he caught you staring, you’d be scolded. You learned your lesson the first time. Each glance you made was brief, wondering when your king will ever turn to face you, to acknowledge your presence while you wait obediently. Patently standing until he addressed you.

The platinum whipped around after placing his personal single-edged blade on its frame. In your peripherals you can sense his narrow-cut eyes lingering on you as your eyes bore forward.

He knew how long you’ve been standing, waiting for him to join you in his chamber after his steamed bath. Beckoning his guards to relieve you of your nightly duties as a palace servant, something he has done many nights before. The king was good at making you wait on him, great at making you anticipate what’s yet to come – if something eventful ever came.

Nonchalantly, he walks through your gaze with a smug grin, rolling his neck with a series of cracks and pops. He disappears behind the standing screened room divider, decorated with painted bamboo patterns in a darker color. His silhouette casted his shape, you couldn’t help yourself from watching his shadow mirror his actions, stripping his body from his exorbitant garments.

Though he knew you were watching, that’s why he purposely shielded his body from your view. His deep chuckle causing you to blush and snap your eyes back straight, he blew out the lit candle before stepping into the opening.

He’s bare, from the waist up – wearing his multiple scars with pride. His singular silk set of charcoal black pants tight around his hips and flowed casually to the floor. His dark eyes prolonged their attention at you as the king stepped closer, closing the distance until he was looking down at your face.

Intimidation. You felt like a mouse who was caught in a cage with a tiger, and with all your determination you continued to focus forward even when his body blocked your view.

Your breath hitched once his calloused hand raised to your face, rings still adorned to each of his fingers. His grip is firm around your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his.

“Remove it.” He commanded, his lips barely parting for the escape of the words.

You met his emotionless eyes, flickering between the dark orbs with yours. Enough to take in his presence, the daunting aura he casted. With no resistance your hand guided up to the knot of your belt, tugging on the strap and releasing the robe. With a shrug of your shoulders the material slid down, revealing the unclad body underneath.

A glint of amusement flashed across his face, enjoying how amenable such a servant is. Your king turned away, dropping his fingers from your jaw and with few strides he sat at the edge of his embellished bed. His head cocked arrogantly, legs spread to their sides, he stared at your nude body and nothing else. With a pointed nod, he signaled your actions.

“Come.”

From prior experiences, you knew what he gestures for. The serious tone in his voice showed demand, and you heed your order deliberately. Your knees met the stone tile below you, the cool temperature contrasting your ever-rising warmth. Heart stuttering to remain sane in your chest, you bowed curtsy to your king.

Superior to you, you submitted to your king just as he charged. Your hands casted up his calves, feeling the material of his pants on the pads of your thin fingers. Once reaching his waistband, you pulled. Unsheathing the king’s half-hard cock in one swift moment.

Excitement bubbled within you, a spark in your eye as you admired the curvature and soft texture of his skin. The tip pinkened, and with a flex of his lower abdomen muscles he jolts his dick up, regaining your attention.

With a growl he spoke, “Hurry up. Take it.”

“Y-Yes sir.”

You did not temporize your king any longer, grabbing onto his lengthy member with a fist. Your hand jerked him awake, cock hardening under your ministrations and oozing clear liquid. His Royal Highness carded his fingers through your hair, grazing his nails against your scalp and nudging you towards him.

Your mouth found its way kissing against his girth, starting from the base all the way to the head. With a swipe of your tongue you cleaned the sticky fluids leaking from him in preparation of adding your own lubrication and gliding your mouth down on him.

Inch by inch you lowered with the persistent help of his hand pushing you down. He guided you, using your mouth for his own pleasures. Soft groans escaped him, audible queues which told you that your work is acceptable and satisfying for him.

He tilted your head to better his view of your saliva wet lips wrapped around his cock. The sight causing him to tighten his fist within your hair, shoving you deeper than you expected. The king chuckled when you anchored your hands against his thighs as you struggled to allow his full girth enter you. His cock hitting the back of your throat with such force you gagged around him out of reflex.

Tears formed at the brim of your eyes, and you looked up with him with plea. His demeaning stare made you wince, though after repeating the action a few more times he finally released you from his strong hold. Regaining the breath you lost, your voice came out hoarse. “Yoongi I –“

Abruptly, he stood up, his hand latching around your neck and lifted you to your feet. “What did I tell you? Don’t you ever learn little jade?” Instinctively your hands wrapped around his wrist, holding your own against him. Yoongi’s fingers tightened around your throat, enough to feel the rush of heat run to your head. “What’s the point of your voice if I can’t hear you moaning my name? Should I snuff it out?” His lips upturned into a wicked smile, shaming you for speaking.

You vigorously shook your head, stretching your neck in attempt to breath from his restriction. He lowered his head to your height, “Speak again, and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to speak for a week.” With that, he unclasped his hold.

Out loud you coughed with a flushed face, spit still dripping down your chin. It wasn’t long until Yoongi gripped your waist, drawing you against his scarred body. Hard dick firmly pressed against your stomach, he glowered. “Wipe that pout off your lips.”

Your mouth opened as to speak, but quickly closed it shut when you noticed his eyebrows raise in annoyance. Do not challenge him.

At this distance, you couldn’t help but take your time admiring his facial scar that extended over his right eye. The cicatrix casted a smooth shine, tinted red from the transparency of the skin. And when you noticed him reading your features in return, Yoongi then shoved you passed his body – face first into the duvet of his bed.

Landing with a thump, a compressed palm landed on the small of your back, holding you still. Yoongi positioned himself behind you, the round of your ass being caressed by his free hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” His tone was low, stern.

Smack!

Your body flinched at the sudden impact of his harsh hand landing a stinging pain across your ass-cheek. Automatically your knees jerked into the edge of the bed, elbows digging into the covers. Your attempt of constraining your yelps failed you, especially once Yoongi’s ring-laced fingers collided with the flesh of your skin again.

Smack!

He held you down, dispensing blow after blow with welts, until your cheek turned bright red. The heat of your skin burned, a numbing sensation from the stings taking over the area. If you spoke you were disobeying, so you lay there voiceless, only your imploring whines supplying the room along with the contact of his slaps.

You felt his hand raise once more, recoiling yourself for the impact you expect. That is, until the sudden fling of the double doors to the bedchamber spread open. Two guards charging in quickly to a halt.

“Your Majesty! Apologies for intruding but –“

Hastily you jumped up, only to be forced down. Yoongi with his toned back to them, pants snug under the swell of his ass, tilted his head to speak over his shoulder – hand still hovering the air. “Get out.”

Your heart beat rapidly, from the heat of the activities between the king and the new troupe who interrupted the moment. The room suddenly becoming vastly overcrowded by wondering eyes that did not respect the view and its intimacy.

“Sire… he’s here in the city.” One of the guards spoke up, you unable to understand the reference he was stating.

The king groaned with a roll of his eyes, hand now cupping the rising imprinted flesh of your ass. Your face buried into the blanket, hiding the form of embarrassment and blush. If Yoongi moved his stance, he’d give the guards the perfect view of your full moon on display. But instead, he remained still.

“Arrange a meeting for the morning. I’m retired for the night.”

There was silence among them, only a shifting of metal plates – ones that belonged to the guards’ armor – could be heard through the standing. Yoongi’s hands left your body, his presence and proximity vanishing as you lay there frozen. Mumbled whispers can be heard, displease spirits laced with whatever interaction was going on between the guards and the king.

“Get the fuck out!” Yoongi barked, the loud ominous voice jolting you from your position, shielding yourself away from prying eyes once you turned around in a flash. You had no clue who he was talking to until you witnessed the stand off between the men, the guards politely bowing their goodbyes before leaving the premises.

At the click of the doors shutting, Yoongi craned his neck back to look at you, eyes icy as ever. Something darker lays within them now, the sharp angled eyes narrowed at your being. You searched his profile wanting to question him, what happened, who’s here?

Yoongi stalked towards you, feet stomping against the floor with his heavy steps. “Who said you can turn around?” He interrogated you, chest rising with each passing moment. Your lithe body staggered up the length of the bed, running into the pile of ornamental pillows. Upon reaching the edge of the bed he rid himself of the last article of clothing on his body, dick still fully erect. Yoongi crawled, like a golden tiger, towards you with tenacity and irritation.

With a tug at your ankle, he yanked you down to meet him halfway. Body now laying under him, you gasp at the sudden invasion of his calloused fingers gliding up the expand of your thigh. The king repeated himself, “Who said to turn around?”

His conflicting demands ran you insane, not understanding what was considered disobeying. Answering him, would go against his no talking rule – yet if you didn’t speak when spoken to, you show a dereliction of duty. It was his way at winning, always. And an excuse to punish you whenever he pleased.

With his intense stare, you felt faced with those two options you would far prefer the latter.

“I-I thought you were telling me to get out!”

Yoongi’s face uplifted, bemused of all things. He tittered, giving a short, half-suppressed laugh. His body towered over yours, portions of his lengthy hair cascaded around his frame. “Little jade,” he whispered as he bent down to your face. His gaze fell to your quivering lips, suppressing yourself from forming anymore words. “I’ll tell you to get out when I’m done with you.”

His hand slid up the curve of your hip, breezing against your supple skin to the crest of your breast. In a swift motion he groped your mound, fingers squeezing between your hardening nipple. A soft moan escaped pass your lips while his lips connect to the other bud, sucking in roughly. You mewled into him, arching your back away from the mattress.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate to move his knee up between your legs, forcing them open wider and make room for him to slip between. Your hands raised uncertainly to hover, soothing your touch against his robust shoulders and biceps. A sharp nip at your boob forces you to tense up, a mark soon to form where his teeth dug. Yoongi snatched your wrists unexpectedly, hoisting your arms above your head. “Now you think you can touch me?” He scoffed, “submit to me.” He urged, emphasizing the importance of what’s at stake here as he prodded his cock against your inner thigh.

Your chest heaved staring back into his lust-filled eyes. The thoughts of your king relishing in you, using you for his own pleasure, and mounting your body flooded your memory. Countless times he’d called you to his chamber, numberless times had he abused your body so deliciously that it left you aching for more. But only and only when you obeyed every command.

You raised your legs to is waist, with a twist of your head you bared your neck to him – your signature for final defeat. “Take me.” You bit down the words, but they came clear as day to him.

His body molded into yours, his head landing in the crook of your neck and dick effortlessly grinding against your dripping cunt. With wrists still held tightly above your head, you bucked your hips up to meet his strides hoping to catch the tip if his cock. Yoongi hummed into your ear, a hand fondling your open chest, “fucking drenched,” he mused.

“Is that why you’re so rebellious? You can’t wait to have my cock crammed inside you?” His cocky ego shining bright with each twist of your nipple, and you leave open mouthed breathes. Your natural essence coated his thick curved cock, allowing him to glide against you with ease. He laughs at you; at the way your body chases his with every moment.

He favored your flushed-out face, the reddening of your skin and moistening of your cunt. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t prolong the urge to plunge into you, the moment the head of his cock dipped between your pussy lips he forced himself past your velvety walls.

You moaned out, pushing your body into his while Yoongi’s royal dick reached to the hilt. He let out a guttural groan, burying his face into the column of your neck. Relentless, the king thrusted into you, fucking you into the bed, hardly giving you time for the proper adjustment to the girth of his cock.

He released your wrists, “Keep them up and don’t move them,” with a swift movement Yoongi lifted himself as he pries your legs from his waist, stretching them as far as your body was capable up and continued to pound into you spread eagle. You heaved, moans breaking apart one after one while Yoongi smirks down at you.

“Who is your king?” he growls, watching his dick disappear into your cunt. Admiring the way your juices shield his sword that pistons deep into you.

Your hands dug into the duvet, crinkling the material between each digit. “Yo-You are!” You wailed into the air, the ache of your hips straining against the weight of Yoongi. You did not dare to ask him to ease up, not when his dick continuously rammed into the sweet spots within you.

Yoongi glared at you, daggers stabbing into your profile. With a flick of his wrist, he slapped one of your breasts. “’You’?”

“King Min Yoongi!” You squealed from his lash, arms jolting forward to cover your bouncing tits.

Yoongi tsked you, disproval of your lack of compliance. He halted his drive, glancing over your nimble body that quaked underneath his. The king gripped your waist, turning you over quickly on all fours. Hoisted ass in the air, his hand snaked around the curves of your inner thighs, lingering his fingers up to your dripping heat.

Two deft fingers found their way circling your entrance, you involuntarily clenching around nothing but the tease of his digits. “Say it again.” He commanded with pressure against your clit, pinching slightly. With a shrill you repeated, “King Min Yoongi!”

The king hummed, realigning himself once again to seep his dick inside you. Your head fell forward for a brief second until a hand tugged you back by your hair, lifting you against his chest with his never-ending hip snaps. His pace was steady but urgent, his lack of mercy was brutal against your cunt and you cried out with glee.

“Touch yourself, cum over my cock.” His teeth grazed your ear, biting down on the lobe. You follow his word, fingers finding your engorged clit and rubbing half-circles against it. Instantly you found yourself tightening around him, mouth gapped open as you found that tender sweet itch your bud yearned for.

Wave after wave did your orgasm shock you, moaning loud for whoever to hear. Yoongi held strong against your waist, submerging his dick. Deep grunts left his throat, the beast within him climbing out the more you clamped around him.

Warm liquid trickled slowly between your thighs while you trembled, opting to hold yourself upright with the support of your hands after Yoongi’s fist is removed from your hair. The position didn’t last long, finding yourself flipped back over to face him.

He watches your fucked-out face, the glistening of thin sweat over the crown of your forehead. His self-satisfied smile plastered wide; he holds your legs open wide once again. Yoongi stares down at your heat, praising the vibrating aftershocks. “Still soaked for me,” he addressed with a cock of his eyebrow.

You caught your breath, nodding your head rather, already feeling your body spent. Yoongi furrowed his brows, “You’re going to scream out my name, you’re going to let everyone in this palace know too.” He lifted your leg, raising it against his chest as he fitted his body between them. In this new position, you felt pretzeled around him, but welcomed his dick eagerly.

Yoongi nails you deeply, jackhammering his cock along with the squelching sounds filling the room. The sensitivity of your post orgasm heightened everything, your body stiffening and tighter. And it doesn’t stop Yoongi from splitting you in half, dick kissing your cervix.

Tossing your head around you moan wantonly. Keening at each impalement.

“Who’s you king?”

“Ki-King Min Yoongi!” You gasp, feeling the coil of pressure twisting in your stomach. Tingling sensations fluttering around your pussy. Your walls unyieldingly hugged him.

“Louder!” He snapped his hips into you, skin slapping into a sting.

You screwed your eyes shut, “Ki – Min… ah!”

The creeping second orgasm drove faster the moment Yoongi’s thumb pressed against your exposed swollen clit, flicking the bud rapidly.

“Louder!” He smiled, “Louder my little jade, fuckin’ say it! I’ll fuck my bastard child into you – say it.” His skillful fingers pinched your clit in time with his thrusts, causing your body to convulse around him with another blissful orgasm. Liquid spurting between the two of you and leaking onto the expensive bedspread.

“Yoongi!” You cried; tears dropped down the sides of your face in a frenzy.

The king leaned forward, faltering his pace with a few last bucks of his hips. Yoongi spilled his entire royal seed as deep as he can go, savoring his sheathed cock as he continued to feel your walls flutter around him.

After moments passed, he slid himself out, dropping your leg and rolled off the bed. Still dazed you lay still on his bed. Aimlessly your eyes followed his figure while he reached for his silk embroidered robe, draping the cloth around him. His cold-cut eyes met yours, a bored emotion across his face.

You can feel the heat of his intense stare, burning holes into you – and you couldn’t move your body. “Get out.”

Without thinking you sat up, mixed liquids squeezing out of you and onto the bed. Your body shaking with vibrations you sat awkwardly, swallowing hesitantly as you looked up at him with desperation. You were dirty, drenched, and feared your legs wouldn’t get you too far if you stood.

Yoongi noticed your current state, almost a cocky grin dressing his lips when he gave a look over at you. He scooped up your initial robe on the floor, tossing the fabric to a nearby chair and turned away towards the double-doors.

“S-Sir I can’t –“

“I know.” He spoke over his shoulder, the blond of his hair flowing down his back, “I’ll have a servant fetch you some towels and new linens. Be gone by the morning.” Coolly he cracked his neck, eyes gazing over you. “I have a meeting with my twin.”

“Yes, sir... Thank you.”

#bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #armysource #bangtanarmynet #magicshopnet #yoongi x reader #agust d #min yoongi #suga #bts fanfic #fanfic #bts #tiger layer #one shot #smut #kimtaehyunq

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

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If You Leave Me Now

Summary: Ms. Oh’s letter gives Cha-young courage to say what’s in her heart.

Author’s Note: Back with another Chayenzo fic and surprisingly no angst this time, today’s episode inspired me to write this. Also fulfilled my Chayenzo fic prompt, this is what you call efficiency ladies and gents LOL I wanted to write sweet emotionally stunted Vinny and brave CY trying to let him know that he deserves love, hope you enjoy!

She doesn’t know what she had been expecting from the letter, initially she had thought it would simply be a thank you note-though it was unnecessary Ms. Oh was always very grateful and seemed to think that her mere existence was a nuisance to those around her. The woman had been so beaten down by life and she feels a sense of pride that her father spent all these years caring for someone that all others had all but thrown away after destroying her. She would never be as intrinsically good and right as her late father, she had too much blood and bad deeds on her hands to be sanctified but helping the powerless, she had enough heart left to see that this was something she cared about.

She had spent years following her mother’s untimely death hardening herself and convincing herself that others didn’t matter to her. She was an island and she needed no one else. This was her mantra as she worked her way up the social ladder at Wusang and purchased more and more temporary happiness in the form of bags and pretty suits, materialism filled the void that was left by her lack of any true love in her life.

She gently folds back up the letter, letting the tears cascade down her cheeks the words still tugging at her heart.

The woman had come to terms with her fate, knowing that while we are all essentially dying each day her days were numbered and their was an expiration date lingering in the imminent future. But it wasn’t those words that made her cry it was the words she has never seen coming.

It seemed the only people they were lying to were each other.

Ms. Oh knew.

Had known all this time and hadn’t deigned herself worthy of revealing the secret and getting the opportunity to hear that sacred word that only one person could anoint her with.

Eomeoni.

“It’s enough that I get to see him. He has grown up so well without me.”

It must have been torture for the poor woman to see the very son she had given away and not be able to hold him or hear his voice as he called her mother, her smile never quite reached her eyes when he called her Ms. Oh. It was as if she was quietly waiting and suffering for the day when he would slip and reveal their true relationship but if her partner was anything he was steadfast and stubborn. He wouldn’t be saying a word, at least without a nudge.

His words echo in her memory, “People like me don’t deserve love.”

it was such bullshit and cop out but she recognized it for what it was, a convenient shield from his feelings. If he believed that he didn’t have any right to love then he would avoid the pain that came from loving someone, the expectations and the vulnerability.

Squeezing the papers between her shivering fingers she grabs her phone before she can second guess herself, his number is the most recent in her call list. She had called him earlier today to see what he wanted to eat for breakfast tomorrow, it was his day to choose she had chosen last time.

The phone only rings once before he’s answering, his voice is warm honey through the speaker she knows he is laying down in his ridiculously expensive silk pajamas. She absently wonders how it would feel on her skin.

“Hmm what is it?” He answers groggily, sounding sleepy but patient and she can detect no annoyance at her calling so late, instead he sounds concerned and she can hear the faint sounds of him moving.

“I’m okay. You don’t need to get dressed.” He sighs in response, the sounds of movement fading and then it’s silent except the faint coos of Inzaghi in the background. “is Inzaghi keeping you up again? Maybe you should get someone to get rid of him?”

“No! How could I-- I mean no, it’s fine. His coos don’t bother me anymore. I find them soothing.” He replies more passionately than she had expected, he had been many hours cursing the pigeon in the past much to her chagrin but lately it was like he had found a new appreciation for the bird. It was weird. It wasn’t like the bird had saved him or something ludicrous like that so she had no idea why he was behaving like this.

“Okay.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late?” He hums on the other line, sounds of the kitchen reaching her ears now, he’s probably making tea he wasn’t much of a fan before but it had slowly grown on him. She had obnoxiously bought him a huge box of tea while she had been staying with him after he’d told her how he only enjoyed coffee- real coffee not the garbage she drank, she forced him to drink them with her every morning until he started making them on his own much to her amusement.

“Drink the chamomile tea, it’ll help you fall asleep.”

After a small pause he answers, “I don’t have trouble falling asleep.”

He lies and she doesn’t call him out, both recalling that night he had woken up sweaty and panicked after a dream. She hadn't questioned him seeing the terror on his face, knowing it wasn’t the right time. She had quietly made him tea and stayed up until he fell asleep, tucking the blanket more snuggly around him.

She listens as the kettle whistles signaling it’s readiness and suddenly she feels ready too, despite the consequences.

“Are you still planning on leaving Korea after you get the gold?” She asks suddenly, a familiar fear pressing on her chest the longer he goes without answering her and she can almost see his face- his wide eyes and the purposeful stoic look firmly in place.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” His voice is tired, desperately so and she can hear the hidden message, “why are you making me face my emotions?” and honestly she doesn’t know why herself, she has never been one to face her own emotions not with matters of the heart. She spent years pretending not to need her father’s approval or love whilst secretly pining and desperate for any attention from him even though she had been the one to push him away first.

It’s your fault she’s dead!

With those vicious words she had ripped her father’s beating heart from his chest and stomped on it with her stiletto heels. Then she had joined Wusang and fought against him, using money and influence to snuff out the hope of innocent people. Maybe Vincenzo was right and people like them didn’t deserve love.

But she was greedy and entitled and others might see that as a flaw but she didn’t care, she wanted this and she deserved it.

“Because I want you to stay.”

There’s no taking it back, the truth is now out there suspended between them and she can hear his gasp on the other line, she’s caught him off guard. Hell, he’s not the only one but she has already shot herself in the foot so there’s no turning back now.

She’s all in.

“I like you.” That’s a lie, the feelings she has for him have mowed past “like” a long time ago and are dangerously close to another L word she’s too chicken shit to admit to him or herself, she has some sense of self preservation and despite those lips devouring her own and stealing any doubts she had about his reciprocation of her feelings, she knows that he is scared of this and he could push her away in some blindsided decision to keep her safe.

“Wh--what?” He stutters out dumbfounded and far less eloquent than the smooth mafia member she has come to know.

It makes her smile softly, she feels honored to get to see this side of him. A side that he only shows to her.

“I’m happy that you came to Korea and that we met. That you met my father and for a little while you were on his side. That you accepted me after everything and that you have never judged me. Meeting you as been the best luck I’ve ever stumbled on, Vincenzo Cassano.”

The silence is deafening and she vaguely wonders if he has hung up too overwhelmed with her sudden confession and fleeing instead but the screen still says his name, “Corn Salad” when she pulls it back to peer at the screen.

“I know you don’t think you belong here in Korea, you don’t think it’s your home. But I’m learning that home doesn’t have to be a place, it can be people too and the feeling you get around them. You showed me that.” Her heart is thundering now but she feels relieved to say this out loud too, if anything were to happen to either one of them it would break her if he never knew how she felt, what he meant to her.

“Me? I showed you that?” He whispers stunned and she can hear the soft rustle of him sitting down, had she made him weak in the knees? She can only hope so.

“Yes. I have lived here my whole life but I never felt as seen or accepted until I met you. You feel like home.”

“Cha-young ah.”

She waits to see if there will be more but that’s all he says, her name like it’s a sermon. It’s the first time he has called her by her first name despite how close they’ve grown in the past months. It sounds like music to her ears, not that opera noise he’s always listening to despite her complaining-loudly- each time she comes over but real music, the kind you would put on during those summer days where you let your hair whip in the breeze. The kind that remains in your heart even after summer has long ended and fall creeps around the corner with a cool entrance.

“I’m happy you’re here and I want this to be your home now. I don’t want you to run away, we both want you to stay.”

His breath is erratic over the line, even more so than when she had found him injured in the underpass. She lets him process her words giving him time that nobody else has ever received from her in the past, with him she wants to be someone who can be patient, he is worth the wait.

“Why are you telling me all this? Why now?” He pleads sounding tortured and when he sniffles she wants nothing more than to reach through the phone and wrap him up in her arms, he sounds so young and confused.

“I don’t want to have any regrets. Not with you.” She answers honestly, the letter staring at her from the table words catching her eyes.

“I can’t let him know how much he means to me. I know it is not my place to ask this but please love him dearly and let him know he is important and needed everyday. Letting him go was my biggest regret, I hope you will be stronger than I was.”

Like she had a choice anyway, she had told herself many times that she shouldn’t have feelings for him but every time she saw him smile or watched him torture someone to get them closer to taking down Babel all of her logic went out the window and she couldn’t help but imagine a life for them after this was all over. Korea, Italy, Malta, it didn't matter where they went as long as they were together. She had no intention of letting him go, not without a fight.

If that made her a villian so be it, he had been the one to train her how to be one in the first place.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you. I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

A long pause follows her apology and with a sigh she goes to end the call, he hadn’t outright rejected her and that was more than she had been expecting. She would regroup and make a thorough presentation of why they belonged together and why exactly he should either stay in Korea or let her go with him after they defeated those corrupt scumbags.

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” He admits, forgetting his earlier denial of this very fact.

“Are you drinking the tea?”

“Yes, I am. You left so many of them here. I told you I’m not a tea drinker.” He states contrary with the loud slurping she hears over the phone.

If she were anyone else his seeming dismissal through ignoring her confession would be heart breaking but she knows him too well now, is too aware of the dark inner workings of his mind and much he is overthinking every word she has uttered and cataloguing every reason that they shouldn’t be together, her safety is most likely top of the list. Old habits die hard and regardless of her constantly telling him that they should face everything together, she knows that there is still a lot that he hides from her in a guise of protecting her. His story about a nail pulling his suit plays out in her head.

“Tea is best for insomnia. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up first, staring at the picture she had sneakily taken of him when he had been distracted in the office. It had been a long day and he had abandoned his jacket and loosened his tie, a sign that the day had taken its toll on him. She didn’t know what came over her but she found herself picking up her phone and snapping a picture of his side profile, he looked so handsome. When he had looked up and seen her on the phone, she pretended to be texting someone and walked away, her heart racing until he shrugged and looked away.

“I won’t give up on you Vincenzo Cassano.” She promises, putting the letter back into the envelope and making her way to the bathroom to complete her nightly routines.

Face scrubbed and teeth brushed to minty perfection, she walks across the moonlit room tugging down the sheets and crawling in, being so open and honest had been emotionally exhausting.

The things she did for him.

Getting comfortable in her bed she reaches out to plug in her phone to charge, but the tiny envelope icon on her phone catches her attention, she must have received a message while she was in the bathroom. Curious, she swipes her phone open before clicking on the message, she tells herself not to be too hopeful it’s probably not him and she’s going to be disappointed when it’s just a telemarketer trying to get her to switch tv providers.

“Oh,” She stares at the message, the light from the phone the sole source of illumination in the dark room besides the moon glowing through her curtains. She has no words, no thoughts either all she can do is feel and even that is difficult with too many varying emotions raging war in her body. She had tried her damnest not to expect anything, knew that he wasn’t ready to face his feelings and he might never be able to say how he felt about her, his actions would have to be enough. She would have accepted it as enough, having him was more than enough.

But as the message stares up at her, she realizes she had been lying to herself when the wave of unfiltered joy that crashes over her washes away her sandcastles of lies.

You are already my home.

It’s not the passionate confessions that are glorified in dramas, there’s no rain or dramatic slowing down of time, he hasn’t even said those coveted three oh so special words; on the surface he has barely said anything at all but to her his words are a blanket on a cold wintery day, she has only ever wanted someone to stay and now she has found that.

Loving him feels like coming home.

#vincenzo #hong cha young #vincenzo cassano #CCFC2021 #chayenzo #chayenzo living rent free in my mind #soft hours

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miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

Memento Mori Cries Our Shattered Souls.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 3: Grave} |

| Soulmates, are a tricky thing. It's said they're the person who best fits you. Everyone goes through life with half of their Soulmate's soul beside them in the form of an animal that represents the soulmate. |

| Marinette always thoughts she'd get to meet her Soulmate and the other half of her soul one day, and now she never will. Jason never wanted to meet his soulmate or be reunited with the other half of his soul. And now, like Romeo and Juliet, they've truly become star-crossed Soulmates. |

| Word Count: 1,371. |

| Warnings/Tags: Soulmate Au, Major Character Death/Implied Death/Temporary Death/Not Really Dead, Death Related Injuries/Injury Recovery, Miscommunication, Loss of Soulmate, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language/Swearing, Starcrossed Soulmates, Wakes & Mentions of Funerary Customs/Traditions. |

———

| A/N: Okay so there's only one song on this one's playlist but c'mon, look my written words in the eyes and tell me that isn't the perfect Jasonette song. Yeah, exactly. Also Choo Choo dear readers, I'm back on the angst train. Grab your tissues and some liquid to hydrate yourself because if you aren't crying by the end of this, then I've failed my job <3 |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It isn't a grave. An important difference, Marinette thinks to herself hollowly. There's a dull pang in her chest, and the constant ache of all her many, many still healing injuries. She shouldn't be up and about yet, it's only been a day since she was discharged from hospital. Her parents and the doctors would have kittens. But Marinette needs to do this. And she's already crawled her way up to her balcony chair (though with a little miraculous help of course). Because it isn't a grave but it might as well be one.

It's a simple little thing really, and yet… Yet it's a lot of things.

A shrine, well an altar. On the half wall besides her balcony chair. It's a small stone slab with a lit incense holder in the middle, and a few lit candlesticks in each of the front two corners of the slab. Behind the incense holder, in the back two corners are two bouquets of marigolds, white lilies, and yellow and white chrysanthemums. And in front of the incense holder, is a single photo of her soulmate familiar and all that she has left of her soulmate; Buddy the german shepherd.

Five days ago, her soul bond shattered. Her soulmate familiar nearly shattered too. It was a miracle Buddy only fell into a pseudo-coma instead. Unlike her though, he's yet to wake up. And considering the situation, he may never. One of the doctors—a soulmate related injuries specialist—had said it's rare but not unheard of for that to happen when the human counterpart to their soul familiar dies. And the final damning nail in the coffin was Marinette's own soul familiar counterpart appearing at some point after she had fallen into the three day coma. After all, it's common knowledge that once a soulmate died, you become reunited with the other half of your soul—your soul familiar counterpart.

Marinette doesn't know what happened to her soulmate's body (if there even is one left, considering the injuries found on her and her soul familiar counterpart). Nor does she have any memorabilia or anything that once belonged to her soulmate. And she certainly doesn't know where he was from and if he would've had any preferred cultural funeral rites. So the best she can give him right now, are the typical funeral flowers her parents both recommended, alongside candles and incense. Somewhat plain and generic almost but it's something, and it's better than nothing.

She chokes back a sob and rubs at her red eyes. “It's not fair… I thought Ladybug's were supposed to be lucky.”

There's a faint pitter-patter and a few droplets splatter against the altar. She blinks and glances upwards, briefly wondering if it is starting to rain. But the cloudless sky is all an answer she needs, along with the realisation of dampness on her cheeks and hands. She blinks again, and a few more tears fall.

Tikki makes a small noise of sadness, and gives Marinette one of those tiny little hugs she always gives.

Still, the grief hurts. Marinette will never get to know who her soulmate was. His name, what he looked like, how he smiled, his accent, what he liked, his favourite things, any stupid habits or mannerisms.

And she will never get to know if her soulmate even has a grave already. She could always ask Tikki, she's right there. But the kwami is stressed enough as it is that Marinette fell comatose for three days and nearly died from the injuries inflicted on her soul familiar counterpart. And five days without a proper Ladybug (and not just Master Fu stepping in out of necessity) protecting Paris has started to visibly take its toll on Tikki.

So, Marinette's little altar isn't a grave but it's where she's burying her grief and wishing the ladybug miraculous could do something to fix this.

———

It's not a fucking grave. If Jason had a choice, he'll never let his soulmate be buried in one of those fuckers ever, y'know just in case she ever ends up like him and is forced to crawl out her own grave. But he hasn't got a fucking choice because who knows who or where his soulmate is and what happened to her after he became a dead robin.

Well other than the fact, she's un-fucking-doubtedly dead and it's all his fucking fault, obviously. It's been six months since he crawled out his grave, and Talia had said the Lazarus Pit could heal broken soul bonds and soulmate familiars that died with the soulmate. Clearly fucking wrong seeing as his bond is still shattered as fuck and there's been no sign of Jules—the naturally shifting little soulmate familiar he used to adore. The kinda weird and scrappy looking calico tabby kitten that according to the internet was a cornish rex, that would sometimes shift into an even tinier, very round and fluffy hamster.

And Jason's spent enough time on the streets as a kid to know what happens to the human counterpart when their soul familiar counterpart snuffs it. If he's lucky, she'll be in a coma and will never wake up. And if he's unlucky, then she'll be six feet under like he was. Either way, she's paying for his fuck ups and deserves way better.

A small part of him wonders if that makes them star-crossed lovers. Like a reverse Romeo and Juliet—fucking ironic considering R&J were the inspiration behind Jules' name. He died, and came back only to find irrefutable evidence that his soulmate's dead—or might as well be—because of him dying first, and she'll never know he survived dying.

“It's not fair!” Jason snarls at his fate, vision staining green for a split second. He grits his teeth and glares down at the little altar he's set up in the corner of his room in whatever league of assassins' compound this is. It's got a single lit candle in each corner of the altar—a substitute for how there's supposed to be a burning candle at each corner of a coffin. Still doesn't make it a fucking grave though.

There's also a few bunches of flowers scattered across the middle of the altar—mostly marigolds, with a few white lilies, a couple black roses, a single pheasant's-eye, and a small handful of asphodels. It hadn't been easy to get them, especially since he couldn't exactly leave the compound yet. But Jules and his soulmate deserved this at least.

Marigolds for grief, white lilies more for the funeral staple than the meaning, black roses for death and mourning, pheasant's-eye for painful recollections, and asphodels for my regrets follow you to the grave.

Fucking ironic, seeing as it's on altar and not a grave.

The worst fucking part of being here, was losing Jules. The one fucking constant in his shitty life. Batman replacing him fucking stung alright, and he's never particularly cared for soulmates, yeah. He's seen and heard more than plenty horror stories growing up, and considering how small and cute Jules is, no way would've his soulmate survived Gotham. It's not like he cared too much about meeting her or whatever, but she was fucking innocent and now she's fucking dead. So yeah, she gets asphodels on her altar because he regrets being the reason she and Jules got shattered.

And the pheasant's-eye, well Talia and all the fucking assassins in this hell hole aren't giving him the chance to hold a wake for either of them. And it's not like he knows shit about her or has anything of hers to sit on the altar. He hasn't even got anything left of Jules 'cept his fucking memories. So all he can really do is recount his own memories of her to himself. Maybe he should write 'em down in a book or something…

All in all, it ain't a fucking grave. But it might as well be one because it's where he's burying his memories and feelings. After all, an assassin without a soulmate familiar, or a soulmate, is a lot harder to kill. 'Least he's got that going for him now. But Jules and his soulmate still didn't fucking deserve dying only for him to survive alone.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Quick reasons behind the Soul Familiar names and species, whilst I know Jason canonically is bad at naming, he's also a literature nerd so hence why he called his soulmate's familiar Juliet, also because it shifts form he can't call it Cat or Hamster. The hamster is because well this is half of Marinette's soul, let's be real, and the cat is because Calicos are seen as lucky and also I thought a Cornish Rex because they're highly intelligent, active, and affectionate and I think that fits Marionette pretty well. As for why Marinette has Buddy, it's purely because Jason reminds me of a German Shepherd and I feel Marinette would've wanted to become friends with her Soulmate as soon as she understood it as a kid, so hence the name buddy. It's not fully accurate to her canon naming skills, but that doesn't matter. |

| If you've been around since the early days of my Maribat/MLB Tumblr side acc, then this premise might sound familiar. Yeah, you've guessed it! It's the Jasonette version of my MTSPY au (rip, I'll get to writing it one day, maybe), aka/originally called LYLaLYL or Lose Your Love and Lose Your Life. I decided since I love the au but I want to re-use a lot of it but with some minor to significant changes. Anyway, if those au names are familiar/you've been around for my last year's content, then here have a virtual hug from me! 🫂 If you can't see this emoji, it's the weird two blue humanoid blobs hugging emoji. Yeah. |

| On a sidenote if there's an obvious difference in writer's voice for the end/beginning notes, tags, and summary, that's because I'm writing this very sleep deprived at 4am and may have gone slightly feral. Yeah. Don't do what I'm doing, get some sleep folks. Half the tags were written at the much more reasonable hour of ten to midnight instead though. |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 1 #Jasonette July Day 3 #Jasonette July Grave #Memento Mori Cries Our Shattered Souls #MMCOSS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

I know, I know, the only writing challenge I should be doing right now is finishing my fucking WIPs, but hey, I love the holidays and I’ve been wanting to host a challenge for forever!

here are the basic rules;

the title is probably pretty obvious here, but all the fics should be holiday or winter-themed in some way and feature mcu characters, or their actors (or other roles from the same people)

all ratings accepted! g to x, anything goes.

all genres accepted! platonic, wholesome, dark, it’s all fair game.

all lengths accepted! just use a read more if it’s anything more than 500 words

rpf accepted!

(pls no snuff, underage, or bestiality as always)

tag me when you post and also use the tag #myfestivevine (lol), just so I can find it

deadline is the end of february, but I imagine people will want to post their stuff in time for the holiday they’re covering.

that’s all you really need to know, but below the cut I have some holiday and prompt ideas to get you started if you aren’t immediately sure what you want to do! thanks in advance to anyone who participates :)

some holidays you could potentially cover:

christmas (secular)

christmas (christian)

hanukkah (jewish)

kwanzaa/karamu ya imani (african american)

winter solstice (pagan/secular/astrological)

pancha ganapati (hindu)

festivus (secular/parody)

krampusnacht (european christian)

new year's eve/day (secular)

lunar new year (asian/astrological)

bodhi day (buddhism)

just straight up winter, the season. no holiday necessary.

(quick note: I encourage writers to use this as an opportunity, either to share their own traditions and culture with us, or to explore and learn about one they are less familiar with. if you choose to go with the latter, please be cautious and respectful in your cultural depictions. writers whose cultural background is often underrepresented, and/or whose holiday is rarely written about, are especially encouraged to participate!!)

wintery/holiday themes, dialogue, and plot ideas:

office/work holiday party

secret santa gift exchange

lingerie or a sex toy as a gift 👀

engagement ring as a gift 👀👀👀

sledding, skiing, snowboarding, ice-skating

baking holiday foods together (decorating cookies???)

mistletoe

ugly christmas sweaters

snowed in

shopping for a christmas tree together

taking a vacation somewhere new for the holiday

visiting/meeting the family

favorite christmas songs (this can also apply to any other holiday that has songs!! I just only know one non-christmas winter holiday song and it's 'dreidel dreidel dreidel' aaaand it's already stick in my head just from thinking about it)

favorite holiday movies

exchanging handmade gifts

kissing at the new year's eve countdown

getting your kids dressed/prepared for the christmas/holiday pageant

ordering chinese takeout when all the other restaurants are closed

"being with you is the best gift I could ask for"

"have you been naughty or nice this year?"

"come sit on my lap and tell me what you want"

"don't you dare try to find where I've hidden your presents"

"honestly, I hate the holidays/this holiday."

"is that a christmas cracker in your pocket or are you excited to see me?"

"okay, your present is too big to wrap, so just cover your eyes…"

"oh, so 'dick in a box' isn't an acceptable present?"

"I think I might be drunk on eggnog"

"what are you talking about?! die hard is TOTALLY a christmas movie."

"there's no way that flimsy little jacket will protect you from the cold… here, take my coat"

"are you cold?" "no." "your teeth are chattering… sure you don't want me to warm you up?"

"you ate the gingerbread house?!" "...was I not supposed to?"

"welcome… to my christmas attack zone!"

"I can't go to another family reunion single… be my fake boyfriend/girlfriend/partner for the holiday? please?"

"the ground is so icy, I'm afraid I'll slip!" "here, hold onto me to keep steady."

"I refuse to participate in any merriment this year. I'm an adult and you can't make me."

"christmas is overrated. I officially declare December 25th 'Halloween 2'."

"don't freak out, but I definitely just burnt our big fancy holiday dinner…"

"you mean you don't do (unique personal tradition)?" "literally nobody but you does that."

"it's a christmas movie!" "it's a halloween movie!" "it's a christmas movie!" "it's a halloween m—" "WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP ABOUT THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS?!"

"ugh, is dinner ready yet?!" "sure, if you're willing to risk your life for raw turkey."

"I get that you aren't the most festive person, but this is the most pathetic attempt at decorations I've ever seen."

you don’t have to do one of these to participate and you don’t have to claim anything! as long as it fits the requirements above the cut, you’re good to go. more than one person could end up doing the same prompt, which is fine because everyone’s individual writing will turn out different!

#myfestivevine #mcu writing challenge #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #sam wilson x reader #peter parker x reader

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fiddlepickdouglas · 4 years

Text

To The Wick - Bobby’s Birthday

Disclaimer: I’m not usually a fic writer, I tend to stick to original stuff, but I just felt like I had to write this for Bobby today. I definitely wrote this in one go and did no proofreading, so I’m very sorry for that.

Summary: 2.3k wd. Bobby celebrates with Rose and Ray while still dealing with survivors guilt. Lots of fire imagery and comparisons.

WARNINGS: deals with death, symptoms similar to anxiety or PTSD, funeral mentions, survivor’s guilt

Staring at the flame, he fought every impulse to snuff it out with his fingers. For a moment, he contemplated on its gentle flickering, not unlike himself at this time. Every moment of its existence a fight against very strong currents, against all but one element surrounding it. All it knew was heat and the need to grow outward, but not being able to without the permission of exterior forces.

The words to the Beatles’ birthday song drummed on his ears, but his mind was in the back of the cavern where the music could only echo at a distance. Shaking his head and pulling his mind out of the depths of the cave, Bobby let a small smile loose for Rose and Ray and blew out the candle on the cupcake before him.

His friends cheered and they all bit into their own homemade cupcakes. Rose had been perfecting her recipe, and so far these were the best.

“You’re going to open a bakery,” Bobby told her through a mouthful. “And I’m going to be your most faithful customer.”

“But I get to do all the taste-testing, right amor?” Ray teased, earning a hand messing up his hair from Rose.

“Mi abuela didn’t pass this down and I didn’t tweak it so you could eat it for free all the time,” she said in a sassy tone, kissing his cheek.

Ray raised his eyebrows. “Noted,” he replied with a smirk.

Bobby finished his cupcake, entertained by the two lovebirds.

“So,” Rose started saying. “Now it’s time to open gifts!” She leaned away from her seat and grabbed an object from the counter a few feet away, then handed it to Bobby.

Tearing apart the purple wrapping and blue ribbon, he looked down at the small stack of CDs. Meditation Sunrise, The 7th Chakra, and Celtic Wind sat in his hands like rectangular dumbbells, each weighing heavier on his heart than he cared to admit. Suddenly, Ray was draping something over his head, and as he looked down he found himself wearing a necklace of prayer beads.

“You guys!” he chuckled, trying to sound genuine. It was his birthday, he was supposed to enjoy all of this. The gifts were actually great, too. “Thanks, this is awesome. You’ll both have to join me in a session, you know.”

“We were thinking we could do it with you today, if you wanted to,” Rose told him.

Bobby sat back in surprise.

“O-okay,” he stammered. He caught the look in her eyes that was hoping this wasn’t too much, to which he gave her a small smile of assurance. It was impossible to blame them for anything he felt today, especially when she and Ray were putting in so much effort to make it full of the joy and happiness it was meant for. It didn’t mean he hadn’t subconsciously stuck his hand in his pocket to where he kept a lighter. Just to feel that it was there, of course.

“Is it okay if we do it later tonight?” he asked. “I just have a quick meeting with my producer and a couple other things afterward to do. And I can pick up some incense while I’m out.”

“Great plan!” Ray exclaimed. He didn’t elaborate, but Bobby could guess that all the eye contact with Rose meant something he needed no part in. He got up from the table and grabbed another cupcake for the road.

“Say we meet back at, like, eight or nine?” he asked, grabbing his leather jacket and keys.

Rose looked up from being halfway embraced with Ray, barely paying attention. “Sounds perfect!”

********

“So, after talking with Jedd we decided we wanna cut out the second repeat of the chorus in Long Weekend. It makes it easier to put into radio time.”

Bobby stared at Callum, his producer, in disbelief.

“But we can just do a radio edit, then, why cut it off the album track?”

Callum blinked condescendingly.

“You think you’re just going to get radio edits out like that before you have an album out, kid?”

“Have you listened to it?” Bobby challenged. “That album is gonna shoot through the charts and I know you know that.”

“Tch,” Callum acted like he’d been shot by a Nerf gun. “That’s a bold statement from a guy who didn’t write these songs.”

A fireball seemed to form inside his chest, and Bobby wished he could open his mouth and shoot it toward the man. He clenched his teeth.

“You signed the deal, you recorded these songs, and you are getting this opportunity from us. We - need I say this - are professionals. Trust me, I’ve dealt with music written by dead people before. You’ll thank me in a few years.”

He was trembling to keep the fireball from burning down the entire room, and clenched his fists. Focusing on a stupid paisley design on the carpet, he avoided eye contact with Callum. There was no way he was letting Luke’s songs go any different than what they had played together for so many years. He had read the contract well enough, hadn’t he? It was hard enough not crediting the rest of them, but it was honor Luke with letting his music connect to people or honor Luke by letting him keep his songs to the few who heard them from the source. Not to mention Alex and Reggie being equal parts in that equation.

“Fine,” he forced out. “Make the cut. See how it does. I’ll bet you that when I make a remaster in twenty years with greater freedoms because I’m a respected artist, fans will ask why you cut it to begin with. I’ve got better people to see than you right now.”

He only saw Callum shaking his head out of the corner of his eye as he pushed through the door of the studio, flipping the bird behind him. It would’ve been nice to simply say over my dead body, but he was already bulldozing over his three best friends and it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that he could walk along the street, get into his car, and drive off in a huff. Not fair that he could go to the abandoned grocery store parking lot and yell until his lungs were sore. It was absolutely inadequate that he remained on this earth, soul inside his body, light in his eyes, breath and blood and bones and all. He screamed in that parking lot until he was dizzy.

Bobby laid in his seat, exhausted, until twilight approached, and then started the engine again. The route was so well-known now that he knew exactly when the lights turned so he never had to make a stop. He came to the right stop and parked on the shoulder, looking wistfully out the window.

So far, he hadn’t managed to set foot on the grounds again after the funerals had passed. Still, he came and made sure his line of sight at the closest angle to get a proper look at them. They were all in a row, even though only two stood vertically. Reggie’s parents had cremated him and only gotten a stone plaque that acted as a placeholder while they kept his urn with them at home. It was nice of them to at least contribute to keep the three together.

Today still wasn’t the day he was going to venture closer to them. Bobby wasn’t going to handle it well after the conversation he’d just left. He pulled the lighter out of his pocket and flicked it off and on. It hadn’t really been a habit he had before, but there was something weirdly comforting about it. For something that couldn’t think, it really understood him. He didn’t want to use it on anything, he just wanted to watch it exist before disappearing. The fire was them. But he could control it.

Taking in a deep breath, he went to get some incense.

********

Mats were spread in the backyard with tiki torches and a camping lantern in the center, more paper lanterns hanging from the tree above. Bobby had gotten a nice incense burner a few weeks back and was excited to put it on display. Ray was in his swim shorts, already seated with his legs crossed and repeatedly going “oommmm” and breaking it with giggles when Rose swatted at him playfully.

“We’re not doing that kind, tontoroso,” she teased.

“Pero me quiero - ah!” Ray cried as she accidentally thumped him with the boombox she’d been carrying out.

“Oh, lo siento mi amor, me desculpes!” she cried, setting it down to address the minor bump now forming on his head.

Bobby sat patiently as they babbled for a moment ensuring that Ray wasn’t harmed too much, smirking a little. He didn’t really mind being the third wheel on his own birthday - it helped take away from some of the guilt.

“Okay!” Rose said finally, standing and adjusting the bottom of her tank top. “I think we should try the Meditation Sunrise, so it will guide us through every motion and we don’t have to think.”

“Agreed,” Bobby nodded, with Ray doing the same. “The less thinking the better.”

Rose pressed play on the first track as all three of them sat in their assumed meditative positions with their eyes shut. Calm, synthesized music floated out of the speakers of the boombox, with light chimes twinkling here and there.

“Welcome to Meditation Sunrise. This first exercise is to help you free yourself from resentments and embrace forgiveness. Listen to my words. Focus on my voice and soon you will be free of anything that stirs up anger. This can be anger toward another person, anger toward a higher being, or even anger toward yourself…”

Bobby felt his heartbeat increasing and strained to keep his eyes closed. He tried to sit up straighter so that he could breathe in even deeper. He could hear Ray and Rose exhaling, sounding so calm and relaxed, and let out his own breath hoping it came out the same way.

“Forgive faults. Resentment comes from Latin, meaning ‘to feel again’. We all have these feelings, and they all visit us from time to time. Sometimes we hold onto things in the past that have caused harm. These things were painful. Letting these feelings continually visit us repeats that pain. In this exercise we are here to let it go…”

Taking a careful peek through his eyelashes, Bobby checked to see what Rose and Ray looked like. They sat close together, holding hands with the remaining ones shaped in circles. Rose had her head tilted back, so free and open to the sky, so light from the weight that wasn’t sitting on her chest. The flames from the tiki torches flickered and Bobby squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t focus on them instead.

“Now we are going to envision that we have a shovel in our hands. We’re going to dig. Get that shovel deep into the rich soil and lift it up. Set the soil to the side. Smell the fresh, upturned earth. If you want to, you can kneel down and take some into your hands. Let the soft, rich earth be cool to the touch. Let it calm you.

“Imagine you are digging in a garden and planting a seed. It’s a seed of happiness. It’s small right now, but will grow as we continue through our meditation. We just need to go a little deeper into the ground…”

Bobby’s mind was transported back to the cemetery he’d visited earlier. It travelled all the way to the funerals - open ground, lowering cheap wooden boxes. His hand filled with a small amount of dirt.

“Stop,” he muttered, eyes remaining closed. Rose and Ray were still entranced.

“Stop, stop, turn it off, I can’t -” He felt his breathing get uneven, and Rose was already in front of him, cradling his face and wiping away tears that he didn’t realize had escaped. He jerked away from her touch. Ray rushed to stop the playback on the CD.

All he felt was heat rising everywhere. In his veins, all over his skin, the fireball growing like a small sun in his chest, and apparently tears could be hot, too. There was too much rage building up inside. Bobby let out a frustrated cry and kicked over the incense burner, the camping lantern doing down with it. Turning, he almost hit a paper lantern and he whacked it off the tree as he headed back inside the house.

Rose caught up to him and frantically tried to block his path.

“Bobby, I sincerely apologize, I did not know it was going to be like that,” she placated. He paused as she stood before him, pleading. “If you need me to, I can get you a different present, I just wanted to do this because you had seemed interested and thought we would have a fun night together - Bobby, I am so sorry!”

Looking back at her, he sighed heavily and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t need to get me anything else,” he told her solemnly.

Ray had joined them and put an arm around each of them. A twinge of reminder came to Bobby as he recalled Luke doing the same thing for him. But coming from Ray, it still had the warmth and love connected to it that he needed. He looked between the two of them.

“That was a bust,” he said. They all chuckled a little, albeit with heavy hearts. “But having you guys still made it a good birthday.”

His friends both muttered an “aw” and they came together in a group hug. Bobby sighed as they both squeezed him so tightly before breaking away.

“So what do we wanna do, then?” he asked.

“We could watch Wayne’s World,” Ray suggested.

“Baby,” Rose objected, giving him a look.

“What?” he lifted his hands defensively. “I could make a dip, we could grab some tortilla chips, you know I love dips.”

“But Bob -”

“No, I like that idea,” Bobby interrupted. “Ray makes some good dip, I’ll give him that. I think we can hold off on the meditation for now. Wayne’s World it is.”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #bobby #bobby wilson #fanfic #happy birthday bobby #birthday celebration #tw: death #tw: anxiety #tw: ptsd #tw: funeral #tw: survivor's guilt

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sunshine-pup-fics · 4 years

Text

R E C K L E S S // Iida x Reader

A fic? After over 6 months of writers block?? When my last fic was posted before Christmas??? WHO KNEW I HAD IT IN ME!?

Not me.

I’ve been struggling to focus on even just one short Oneshot long enough to get it done... Quarantine sounds like the perfect time to get stuff done, but I've been bogged down in work. I have no idea when the next fic will be done. I don’t even know if people read this blog anymore. This was actually requested on my Wattpad upload of these fics, but its something! Hope I still got the skills-

WARNINGS: Angst, implications of death, a heated argument.

Working hard. Studying diligently. Striving the best and carrying the Iida name. That's what was important to him. He had to uphold his reputation, his stature. Who else was meant to keep the class in check, if not him? And admittedly, he'd been doing well so far. He was acing his studies and was on track with his quirk training. Nothing was supposed to get in his way of becoming a Hero. So it became a concern when he started to find himself... distracted. It started with casual glances. Brief ones whilst he waited for the next notes, or before he left the classroom for lunch, or when he passed them in the hallway, or when- okay, so more times than he'd like to admit. But then it moved to small talk. Asking about their day or reminding them of the weather when they left class.

Soon enough, he found himself writing their name neatly in the margins of his notes. He was embarrassed, appalled even, by his own behaviour, and even rewrote the entire page of notes when Izuku had asked to borrow them. He knew this was unacceptable. He could not, would not, let this... complication, get in the way. He couldn't risk it. Not when he was already on the path to what he had worked toward for so long.

Yet after a gruelling 4 months after his initial realisation, he was still trying to ignore it, snuff it out, he was going absolutely mad. He had tried not speaking to them, but that lead to an entire ordeal on its own. He tried just ignoring the feelings, 'digesting the butterflies', but it just made him more aware of how they made him feel. Every day was its own battle against himself. How were you ever supposed to win that?

So after much deliberation, he resigned himself to just tell them. It was the only logical conclusion to this mess. No matter the outcome, it would be over, right? Either he'd gain their affections and have the most astonishing person by his side, Or, and he didn't want to think about this outcome to much, he'd be rejected. Told he wasn't good enough. Perhaps to stoic. Maybe he wasn't smart enough. Could he considered too over the top? Possibly he overthought things.

But he wasn't good enough. He knew that. But he had to do it for his own sake. So he could accept his fate and move on. At least things would go back to the way they were before. He could just focus on being a hero again.

Exhaling his breath, along with his nerves, Iida tentatively knocked on their door. There was a muffled "coming" from inside, followed by footsteps. The door cracked open, the hallway lights illuminating a small portion of the unlit room. (Y/n)s face appeared through the crack, a warm smile forming on ther lips as they realised who it was. They quickly slipped outside, closing the door behind them. Iida quietly cleared his throat, gaze shifting to stare at the wall beside their head. "What can I do for you Iida?" Their voice was calming to him, it nearly left him speechless. Nearly. "Ah, I was just wondering- well, seeing how well you've worked recently—" He paused, earning himself a inquisitive look from the (h/c). He cleared his throat, refocusing his gaze on them. "I would like to take you out to eat on Friday night." (Y/n) raised a brow, but otherwise had smug look on their face. "I wasn't aware the class rep was rewarding us for working diligently." Their words held no mockery or ill will, but Iida still felt his stomach churn over the words all the same. He lightly shook his head, forcing a polite smile. "With how much you've improved, I thought it would be a good reason for praise." (Y/n) nodded along. "Alright, sounds good to me. Friday it is. Though you..." They trailed off for a moment, letting their gaze slip to the floor. "You know I have to go visit my parents first, right?" Iida simply nodded, a sincere glint in his eyes, perfectly framed by his glasses. He raised a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Of course, I would never dream of taking that time away from you." At his sweet answer, (Y/n) could barely contain the warmth that spread through them. "Can't wait then."

Iida went over his outfit again in the mirror. This wasn't too flashy was it? Or was it not flashy enough? They were just going to a simple diner... Why was he so worried about this? He couldn't stop thinking about (Y/n). Had he already messed up? Asking them out... would it have been better if he continued to squash his feelings? Surely not. He really did truly want to be there for them, but he knew that relationships cost time and effort, which was not something he had a lot spare of at UA. He glanced at his phone. He had another 20 minutes before (Y/n) usually got back, but he figured he'd go wait in the common room... maybe it'd keep his mind off it.

Heading down, he noticed everyone crowded around the TV. It was deathly silent besides some news reporter rambling nonsense. He wanders over, peering over the heads of his classmates. There was a large red banner at the bottom with "BREAKING NEWS" scrolling past every few seconds. He leant over to Uraraka, who was seated on one of the couch armrests. "What's this about?" She jumped, gaze shooting to him as she let out a yelp. A few others turned to look at them, looking overly alarmed to see Iida standing there, but they said nothing. "U-Uh.. Well... We were watching some TV when some news came in..." she trailed off. "There was a villain attack on a store near here. It usually wouldn't be a big deal but we heard Aizawa get called out for it so... we're just uh... watching to see whats the problem." Uraraka stiffly turned back to the others, returning their gazes. Iida turned his attention back to the screen, at just the perfect time. "A young girl near the scene spring into action at the beginning of the villains attack, bravely intercepting one of the villains acid attacks and using her quirk to save those nearby, nearly at the cost of her life. Further inquiry is needed, but the girl has reported to be one of the infamous students of 1A attending UA." The class watched in silence as their classmate, and friend, flashed up on screen, mostly hidden behind a very angry looking Aizawa. The silence became deafening. Everyone was too afraid to breathe. "They acted quickly, managing to save a small family who otherwise may have been lost." "W-Well... they look alright. I'm sure they're fine." Deku muttered, anxiously rubbing the nape of his neck. "What do you mean theyre fine. That reporter just said they nearly lost their life." Iidas voice boomed throughout the common room. Everyone looked to him in varying degrees of surprise, fear and sympathy. He blinked rapidly, exhaling a deep breath before averting his gaze. No one knew what to say. Uraraka reached out, gently patting his arm. Deku scooted closer, stumbling over his words as he tried to reassure his friend. "Look-" Mina pointed at the screen and everyones focus fell back to it. "It said they left the premises a while ago for safety reasons. If Aizawa is there then they'll probably come back here right?" The group nodded. "Unless they have to go in for questioning. They did use their quirk without permission and get involved in a villain attack-"

The group went dead silent as they heard the front door swing open. First to enter was Aizawa, somehow looking more tired than usual, followed by a rather downcast looking (Y/n). Midoriya opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by a glare from their teacher. "I'm sure you're aware of what happened. However it doesn't concern you lot... for once. Make sure you get to bed on time." He turned to (Y/n), cold gaze as he stared down at them. "I'll be dealing with you tomorrow..." He averted his gaze, before placing a gentle hand on her shoudler. "Good work." And then he left.

(Y/n) only glanced toward the group, hands clutched to their chest and a downcast look on their face. They said nothing, only quickly averting their gaze before heading toward the stairs. "(Y/n)" They paused, turning their gaze toward the voice. Iida was staring them down across the room. They opened their mouth like they were going to speak, only to quickly close it and bite their tongue. They made no movement toward the stairs however. Iida briskly walked over. "What are you doing?" (Y/n) clicked their tongue. "Going to my room. Kinda had a rough night." They lingered there for a second, squinting at him. "Ah-" Their face lit up in realisation before it fell back to a frown. "Sorry, but I think I'll have to forego our plans." Iida shook his head. "That doesn't matter. I just wanted to know what you were thinking." His mouth was set in a thin line. "What... What I was thinking? What- oh. Right. When I 'leapt bravely into action'? I was saving someones life." Their voice was low, and their eyes were set. They were challenging him. "What you did was not right. As a UA student you should know better than to pull stunts like that." (Y/n) flinched away from him. "Excuse me? I saw someone in trouble, and I acted. I would have done it whether I attended UA or not." Iida frowned. Both their voices were beginning to raise. "Then that proves you're not ready to become a hero. You have to think about yourself too." "Sorry, I wasn't aware you were the one who decided who should and who shoudnt become a hero now. I'll be sure to listen to your advice next time!" "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't have risked yourself like that without at least calling for backup or alerting proper heroes!" "It was the logical thing to do! I couldn't just leave them there!" "You should be ashamed! It was a reckless attempt, and you were lucky no one was hurt!" "That's what heroes do, Iida! We act when no one else can!" They accusatorially stabbed his shoulder with their finger, glaring at him. "That doesn't mean you don't think things through and act in haste! You clearly didn't actually plan any of it!" He leaned forward, towering over them. "Oh what? So now I'm incompetent because I saved someone's life?" their glare hardened and they flung their arms out. "Nearly at the expensive of your own life! It's imbecilic!" "Oh I'm sorry 'Mr go off and fight a known hero killer alone head on', I didn't hear you over your hypocrisy!" "That was a mistake, at least I understand that! You know that situation could have gone wrong and have ended up the same as with your family, correct?" "You. Leave. Them. Out. Of. This." They glared daggers at him, words dripping with malice. "Tell me I'm wrong. You shouldn't have taken that risk!" "I can't believe this. You're so invested in scolding me for one stupid mistake! Maybe I shouldn't have done it, but I did! I risked my life for another because I couldn't bare to watch another family be torn apart by grief as mine did. Is that it, are you happy now?" "N-No! Of course not!" "What else do you want then? Why do you even care?" "Because I'm worried!" "So is everyone else, but I don't see them interrogating me! I've already been chewed out by Aizawa too! Everyone else understands something had to be done! Why is this so important to you?" "Because I was scared I might loose you! Scared I'd hear the news the love of my life had died!" The room went silent. Iida closed his eyes for a moment, hauling a deep breath before facing his words. (Y/n) stood, body shaking as they hauled breaths. They blinked rapidly, emotions swelling behind their eyes. After a moment longer, they finally dropped their arms to their sides, lowering their head in defeat. "And to think I believed that 'the love of my life' would support me. That you would understand better than anyone why I had to do it. Oh how wrong I was." They summoned as much hatred as they could, staring Iida down without falter. And then they left. They spun on their heel, nearly sprinting out of the common room into the night. The few classmates had long been silent, unable and unwilling to butt into their argument. Uraraka tentatively inched closer, leaning sideways to try and catch Iidas gaze. He didn't even notice her. His shoulders shook with each of his breaths, weighed down by his own guilt and his eyes glistened behind his glasses. "Iida-" Uraraka began to speak, voice nothing more than a whisper, but she was cut off. "I know... I know." He hauled a deep breath, straightening his back as he set his gaze on the exit. To hell with his reputation. His studies, his work. He only needed to make sure they was okay.

He didn't even need his quirk to catch up with (Y/n). They'd collapsed on one of the benches, sobs and cries muffled by their hands as they vainly attempted to stop. He could hear them muttering to themself, vile comments on their idiocy. He felt his heart splinter, an oceans worth of regret slamming over him as he realised he had done this. He was the cause of their suffering. Their tears and their cries. Iida staggered toward them, subconsciously reaching out. Upon his movement, (Y/n)'s gaze snapped to him. For a moment, all he could see was the hatred and anguish... and then it slipped away. Scrambling to their feet, they closed the gap between them. He barely had time to react before they'd collapsed into him, smushing their face into his shirt to hide their face, balling the fabric in their fists. Iida instinctively wrapped his arms around them. He'd make up for what he'd done, even if it cost him everything else.

#iida x reader #iida tenya #mha x reader #bnha x reader #iida tenya x reader #x reader #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #saladwrites #im back

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shutupandshipit · 4 years

Text

Blood and Diamonds - Part 1

Summary: "Welcome to the stage... Lilith.”

Or where Neil is a stripper at the Days' strip club when Ichirou doesn't need him for family business, and Andrew is Kevin's bodyguard. It's only Andrew's second month as Kevin's bodyguard and it had been pretty boring up until then, but it only takes one night in the Days' club for things to get just a little more interesting. For both him and Neil.

Pairing: Andreil

Rating: M

Part 2: Gold -> Next

Part 3 -> coming soon

Author’s Note: This is going to be a three part work, but most of the chapters are going to be pretty long compared to my usual. Anyway, this is literally a major fuck it fic for me, to be honest. I am writing this solely for the pleasure of doing so.

Part 1: Lilith

Andrew wasn't one for strip clubs. He didn't like them. He didn't like the people that frequented them. He didn't like the look of them. Most of them were dirty and degrading, dark and damp with lust. Plus, most of the strippers were usually women unless you went to a very specific club. If he really needed to get off that badly, he had other means of finding a source.

Still, he found himself wandering into an all genders club at Kevin's side, eyes skipping from one table to another.

Being Kevin Day's bodyguard had been as tame and boring as he'd imagined it would be. They did get into trouble from time to time, running about on whatever adventure the heir to Kayleigh Day's drug empire wanted. He'd only had the job for a short month, and was ready for something new to spice it up.

He just hadn't imagined that thing would be the strip club that his father and the Days ran as a cover for their drug laundering.

“It'll be fine, Minyard. Try to have some fun. Find someone you like. Drink a little. It is an all genders club. There's someone out there for everyone,” Kevin said when they paused just passed the front doors to look over the dim room and black stage with its two shiny poles leading up to the towering ceiling. The room was almost too dark to see, lit with sultry crimson light and candles in red vases on every table. Barely noticeable waiters and waitresses in conservative black uniforms moved silently around the room, taking and delivering orders.

It was a much cleaner and classier set up than Andrew had imagined. “If I found this fun, I wouldn't have to be dragged along under the guise of work.”

A waitress looking like she was on the verge of crying stopped at Kevin's elbow. “Sir, good evening. We haven't seen you in awhile.”

Kevin's mouth went from scowling to his people-winning smile in an instant. The smile he wore for the public, for his sick mouth. “Raven, evening. How have things been around here?”

“Fine. Josten got into a fight with Leverett again, but Boyd and Wildes broke it up pretty quickly,” she told him, jumping on the question like a puppy hoping to be praised.

Kevin sighed. “Again? Over what? How were they even in the same room with the schedule the way it is?”

“Something about stealing Leverett's customer. She came in on her off time to argue with him.”

“Typical.” His eyes drifted towards Andrew, musing. “He is the best though, and Leverett is... inattentive. When is Neil supposed to perform tonight?”

Raven glanced down at a watch on her wrist, small and discreet. “Ten minutes, and then at closing with the rest of the Foxes.” Kevin nodded at her, and she filled the silence before there could be any. “Jeremy and Thea are upstairs entertaining in the VIP room tonight. Mr. Moriyama is visiting, and they came in on their day off to minimize potential collateral damage.”

Kevin nodded, glancing towards the stairs leading to the upper floors as his smile struggled to remain in place. “Right, he told me he'd be here. I'll have to give them a bonus.” Turning to Andrew, he said, “Well, I'm going to go speak with Riko. Make yourself at home. Watch some of the acts. We're staying here tonight, and Nicky should take over soon, so get drunk. Take from Cracker Dust. Take someone to bed at the end of the night. I don't care, but if I come down here and you're not three sheets to the wind, I'm going to strangle you.” He said everything with a smile before turning, Raven following at his elbow.

“You don't have the balls,” Andrew spat back.

Kevin didn't stop, but flipped Andrew the bird over his shoulder.

Nicky showed up thirty minutes later, high fived him, and headed up to the VIP room to read a book outside the door. If Nicky was downstairs, he'd drink. And if he drank, he wouldn't stop. Kevin didn't mind them having a drink or two on shift, but they all agreed that being drunk was unacceptable.

After Nicky took his leave, Andrew found a spot at the bar, accepting a drink from a familiar bartender. “You work here too, Roland?” he asked, watching his old hook-up walk back and forth along the bar as he prepared drinks and set out trays.

Roland grinned, coming to a stop to lean across the bar at Andrew, smiling. “The Days pay better than Eden's. Plus, I get more hours. Speaking of which, haven't seen you around lately, and then you just happen to turn up here? What's the deal with that?”

Andrew tipped his head towards the ceiling. “Mr. Day dragged me here?”

“Ah, so Kevin's the culprit. Rat bastard. Well, I'm going to get you drunk on his dime then.” He set out a shot that Andrew knocked back happily, sliding the glass back towards Roland. “The show is about to start. Neil's our best. He really get the blood flowing. Then it's Allison. Maybe after my shift is done, we can find a place to... chat?” Roland's smile was flirtatious.

Andrew didn't answer, only raising an eyebrow.

Roland shrugged, unperturbed. “The offer is there if you want it.” He bustled off towards his other customers, and Andrew turned to watch the stage.

The stage was lit with a soft lilac light, and as he watched, the patrons began to snuff out the candles on their tables until it was the only light in the room. Overhead, a soft deep voice made introductions. “For those of you who have been here before, you know what time it is.” A short cheer rose before going quiet as sensual music filtered into the room. “For those of you who may be first timers, your life is about to be changed. Next up, we have the Prince of the Stage, the man who can cut out you heart without spilling a single drop of blood, the diamond of dance... Welcome to the stage... Lilith.”

Wild applause disturbed the air, quieting only when the music grew loud, replacing the conditioned air with the thrumming of cello strings. A man stepped barefoot onto the stage, tight black diamond studded shorts stopping just below the curve of his ass. They strained around toned thighs, a black sleeveless shirt draped loosely over his chest and stomach, plunging in the back to reveal rippling muscle. His arms were as tones as his legs, and scared from fingertips to elbows. Everything that was usually on display by a stripper was covered, but what was on display was a nice display.

Muscular, but not overly so. Neck long and elegant. Skin tanned and dusted silver. A steady mix of masculine and feminine as he moved across the stage.

Wild curls looked black beneath the lilac light, but lacked the same depth as black hair. Probably a brunette or red head. The curls flopped over the top edge of a glimmering half-mask that resembled a fox's snout, the shadow covering the rest of his face, but not the cut of his jaw.

Andrew thought every stripper danced the same, that there could be no variation except between genders. He wasn't sure whether this was particular to the club or particular to this dance, but Andrew's mouth watered as he swung around and around his pole, sliding to the floor and arching his back before wrapping his legs back around the poll to hoist himself up.

Bills landed on the stage, but Lilith never stopped moving, climbing and careening around the stage.

He looked like he was trying to run from something, and Andrew wondered what the something could possibly be.

It had been awhile since Andrew had had such a visceral reaction to another person, his pants growing tighter with each passing moment and movement. He never moved, exactly like the others around him. Even the bartenders had come to a stop to watch the man at work.

What Andrew found curious and intriguing was the lack of actual stripping. Lilith never removed a scrap of clothing, only pulled and tugged at the fabric in suggestion. There was a flash of dimples and strap of a thong above his ass, a peak of tight curls beneath the waist of his shorts, a smear of lipstick across his jaw. His performance drove the crowd wild, but when Andrew caught a glimpse of raised scarring beneath the shirt, he knew it was to hide and not to tease. He'd wager even frequent customers had never seen more of Lilith's skin than what was already being shown.

And that was interesting.

He was intrigued in a way he knew he shouldn't be. No one with a good, stable life was stripping for a living, and Andrew's life was already messy enough without adding someone else's issues.

Nobody stripping for the Days had a stable life.

When Lilith spun to a stop at the end of the song, chest heaving, he stared across the room.

Andrew could have sworn he caught the flash of icy blue eyes staring at him.

…..

Neil sighed, pulling his mask off and staring at the smeared lipstick across his jaw where he'd fended off one of the regular female customers before going on stage. Sweat beaded on his brow, tracing down his temples. His shirt was completely soaked through, and his shorts were stuffed with bills from grubbed hands at the stage edge. No matter how classy Kevin claimed the club to be, the dancers were still strippers and the majority of customers were still gross and horny. He'd slowly started to pull the bills out when Dan clapped him on the shoulder.

“Great job out there, Neil! You really got them riled up, and you're still as popular as ever!” Dan exclaimed, ruffling his curls with a grin. Her smile fell into a neutral line as she wiped at the smudged lipstick. “You know, you don't have to do this, right? Just because you got us the positions. You've got your own work to handle.”

Neil smiled at her. “I know, but whatever I make here, I get to keep. I'm still paying off my parents' debts, and I can't do that and live at the same time if I'm just using what I get paid normally.”

She sat down beside him, turning him to face her so she could fix his makeup. “I know that, but Kevin had offered to help which is a miracle in and of itself. He's offered more than once, so you know he means it. Wouldn't he be better than Ichirou?”

Neil wanted to shake his head, but also didn't want his throat ripped out. Dan was applying small crystals to his freckled and would murder him if he ruined her work. “Ichirou is not the problem. We practically grew up together despite our fathers' best efforts. It's Lord Moriyama and his useless second son that are the problem. Lord Moriyama still doesn't trust me after my father didn't pull through on his side of the deal, and then let my mother run back to the Hatfords. No, I can't trade one thumb for another.” Neil was giving too much truth, and he felt his throat trying to constrict around his words with his need to clam up, but every one of the Foxes deserved his truth. After what his father had put them all through... They'd been through too much together to get a lie.

Dan sighed again, and sat back. “There. All fixed. Now change your shirt and shorts. You're disgusting.” Turning to glance over her shoulder as Neil followed her order, she shouted, “Allison, they're waiting for Aphrodite on stage!”

Neil gently pulled Allison to a stop before she passed him, pulling her down to whisper in her ear. “Can you check out someone for me? Blond. Short. Seated at the bar in a black suit. He's new, but doesn't look like a customer.”

Allison pressed a kiss to his temple, murmuring, “Sure thing, hon. I'll let you know what I collect after I make my rounds tonight.”

“Thanks.” Neil waited until Allison was gone and Dan had focused on him again to wave at his face. “What's all this for? I thought I didn't go on again till closing.”

“Right, but someone requested you.”

Narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose, he said, “I didn't put anything out saying I was taking requests tonight. You know that.” Neil only took requests when he was desperate for more cash, and Dan knew that as well too.

Dan nodded. “I know, but I wasn't able to turn them down this time. The request came from Kevin for someone else. He put down five figures. I figured you wouldn't mind if you were getting paid that much.”

Neil's mouth went dry. “How much if five figures? How does Kevin even have that much to throw around?”

“Fifteen thousand.”

“Jesus. Does he want me to fuck this guy on stage or something?” Neil asked jokingly, but Kevin with Riko could be unpredictable. He had to have faith that Kevin wouldn't ask something like that of him, and he didn't want to have to pull rank as a Wesninski and the Butcher's Son in the club. Even then, he'd only be able to pull rank on Kevin, not Riko. If it came down to a battle with Riko, the night would end with someone's blood on the walls. There was a lot of abuse and humiliation he was willing to take from Riko, but not that.

“Oh, come on!” Seth shouted from across the room where he was painting his chest bright orange, “You don't even get naked! Why are you getting paid the big bucks? How good are you at giving head, exactly?”

Neil didn't point out that he only ever 'gave head' to one person as he didn't have a choice in the matter. That wasn't information Seth should be privy to. He'd never hear the end of the gay slurs. He already got enough shit for being demisexual as it was.

“If you put half as much effort into your performance as Neil does, maybe you'd get paid more too. Unfortunately, you only attract one gender, and that's not enough,” Dan shot back at him as she smiled. Again, she returned her gaze to Neil while Matt intervened before Seth got himself killed. “So, the client is in a private room, last door on the left. Maybe he'll tip.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “You think it's a guy?”

She shrugged. “Kevin doesn't have any women in his group, but who knows. Maybe he picked one up and is showing her a good time.”

“I doubt that. He just picked up three new bodyguards a month ago, and I don't think Coach would let women on his team with Riko around.” Neil pursed his lips, staring at the rust red of them in the mirror. After a moment, he fitted his mask back into place and stepped into a pair of lethal black heels. “I guess I'll see you in an hour or so.”

Dan waived, smiling cheekily. “Try to have some fun, Neil. Who knows? Maybe he has a sense of humor.”

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he ducked out of the dressing room.

…..

The private rooms were for entertainment. Most of the time, that meant lap dances and some conversation. That's what they were meant for. For the customers to get a better look at their coveted performers. What a performer did in a private room with a customer was their business though. Most of the performers were willing to do a lot for a little bit more if Kevin turned a blind eye. His only stipulation was that they stay clean, free of any drugs that he wasn't pushing and STIs.

Some customers pushed for more than the performers were willing to give, even when they said now.

Neil wasn't innocent. When he needed money and there was an easy way to get it, he didn't waste time tiptoeing around options, but he had his boundaries.

The Foxes had made a name for themselves in both the pole dancing circles and sex worker circles. When it came to the private rooms, their word was law. After several bloodied noses and broken wrists, most everyone knew that when a Fox said no, it meant no. There was no pushing. There was no coaxing. There was no wheedling. They weren't afraid to kick a customer out, and they sure as hell weren't afraid to get violent if hands were put on them. The Foxes were known for their dances and their convictions.

Customers who requested them knew not to push.

That didn't mean the Foxes weren't willing to push the fold themselves.

Neil didn't push anything. After his mother had beat the desire out of him and Lola had taken what she'd wanted, he refused to touch anyone unless he was desperate. Even desperate, the furthest he would take it was a handjob and a few unenthusiastic kisses. He made enough money on stage most nights to cover living expenses, but feeding two people got expensive after awhile. Not including the clothes and doctor visits and shoes. When he didn't need money, he kept as much distance between himself and the customers as he could.

He rarely found a need to put himself in a private room, and he always had the same reaction at first. Nausea. Shoulders pulling tight. A sense of vertigo washed over him as he slipped into the dimply lit room and closed the door behind him.

The room was dark like the main room, all black and crimson curtains with accents of gold and dusty pink interspersed throughout. Candle light flickered along the walls, and soft rolling music played through hidden speakers. Allison's song choice thrummed through the ceiling, pulsing in his feet.

Neil knew there were microphones hidden for the performers' protection. He'd been the one to suggest their installation. If the performer ever uttered their safe word or 'No' three times in a row, guards would pull the performer out immediately.

Across the room, the man Neil had seen sitting at the bar turned to look at him. He was short, shorter than Neil at about five feet even, but his presence was overwhelming as he stared at Neil blankly. He wore all black from his shiny shoes to his belt to his tie. His hair and eyes were the only splashes of color.

Hazel eyes slid up and down Neil's body, but the man didn't move to come any closer.

Neil didn't know what he was supposed to do with this lack of reaction.

…..

Andrew was collected from the bar by Nicky just as the next dancer, a woman with long blonde hair and legs for miles, stepped out. Nicky led him upstairs, a sly smile on his lips.

Andrew narrowed his eyes in response. “What's going on? I thought Kevin wanted me to get too drunk to stand. He's ruining my streak,” he groused even though he hadn't really been drinking with purpose. He'd been sipping on his whiskey as he chatted with Roland about the dancers and skirmishes they got into. What problems could be found around the club. Which were related to Kevin and which weren't.

Really, he'd just been doing reckon, but Nicky didn't need to know that.

“A present from Kevin,” Nicky said vaguely as he opened a door and closed it behind Andrew.

Andrew knew where he was without having to be told. He'd been in a backroom like this at Eden's Twilight with Roland enough times. Granted, this was nicer, but it was also actually meant for entertainments where Eden's looked like it was simply where people went to hook-up. They were all the same in the end.

A place to have a tryst. A place to get a lap dance. A place to do business that wasn't of the body variety.

He wasn't happy Kevin had sent him there, but he was also mildly curious to see who Kevin had sent for. Who Kevin thought would be interesting enough to keep him busy.

After ten minutes, Andrew considered sitting down, but didn't want to give the dancer anything to assume. He wasn't there for a lap dance. He wasn't there for a blowjob. He was there without consent, and he knew most of the dancers had to have been pushed into situations they didn't want either.

The dancer from the first performance -Lilith- slipped into the room. He'd changed, but the outfit wasn't much different than the one before. Black shorts that were seemingly painted on, tassels of diamonds hanging from the waistband to tinkle quietly around his hips. Black top of nearly see through material with gauzy sleeves that draped around his arms. New red lipstick painted his mouth, almost the same color as his curls.

He was towering in black heels, his mask still in place as he leaned back against the door.

Andrew couldn't stop his eyes from dragging up and down the man, taking in his posture, how he seemed a little off kilter. He wondered if it was Andrew himself, the room, or just the situation that was causing him such visible discomfort.

A long, tense silence passed between them before either spoke.

“You're Kevin's new bodyguard. I didn't realize earlier. You, your twin and your cousin just joined his security detail. Renee said she knew you guys from before,” Lilith said, shoulders still pressed to the door with his back arched away from the fabric covered wood.

“And who are you to Kevin?” Andrew asked, suspicious and curious at once.

“A performer. An asset. Someone to take care of the dirty work.” The words rang with truth despite the mirth there, and Andrew had to wonder if the song and dance were familiar. “But for you? I can be anyone.”

Again, suspicion reared its head. With Riko in the same building, he couldn't be too careful, even if Kevin was the one who sent Lilith. That didn't mean people couldn't be paid off. “Why's that? Is that part of your gag?”

The man shrugged, a sly smile playing across his lips. Half lidded blue eyes looked out at him from the shadows of the mask. “Kevin paid fifteen thousand for me to be here, so I assume he wants me to make you happy. By whatever means that may be.”

Lilith sounded a little sick at the prospect, and Andrew didn't miss that hint in his voice. He was a good actor otherwise, his posture never changing.

The words made Andrew sick, and he wanted to strangle Kevin. Instead, he could just waste his money. “Stop standing like that.”

Those blue eyes blinked wide, and Lilith asked, “Like what?”

“Like you're trying to showcase something. It looks painful.”

A startled laugh fell from Lilith's mouth, and he relaxed against the door. “It kind of does,” he admitted.

“Take the shoes off.”

After a pause, Lilith sighed and stepped out of the shoes, dropping down much closer to Andrew's height. “Thank god. Those are torture. Have you ever tried?”

“No.” Andrew sat down on the couch that was across from the door, leaning back with his arms across his chest. He pointed to the cushion next to him. “Sit.”

Irritation flashed across Lilith's mouth as he hesitated. It disappeared as he padded over to the couch. His body was lithe and strong like he was aware of every aspect of himself. Sitting down, he left a substantial twelve inch gap between them, but turned to face him. “This is... unconventional. Most people want me to be naked by this point. Not that they get what they want, but...”

“I'm not people.”

Lilith laughed. “Clearly. So, is there anything I can do for you?” He crossed his legs at the ankles and folded his hands in his lap. “You've got fifteen thousand dollars worth for activities.”

Andrew let his eyes wonder over the man, considering. He knew what his body wanted. He knew that he wanted to spite Kevin for this. He knew that no matter how convincing the man was or what he was indirectly offering, Andrew could spot a liar a mile away. This man was a good one, practiced and adept, but not good enough. “Let me take off your mask, yes or no?”

Lilith tensed, but nodded. “Yes.”

Andrew spanned the space between them, reaching into Lilith's hair to rifle around for the string. Puling the bow open, he set the mask aside and sat back into his seat, opening the space between them again. He stared at the man's face, at the long lashes and gems glues to his face, the curls brushing his forehead, the highlighter on his cheekbones. “What's your name?” Beneath the makeup, he could still see the bumps and rises of burns beneath an eye.

“Neil Josten.”

Andrew sat the lie in the flutter of his eyelashes, just a minor drop. “That's not your real name.”

“No.”

“You prefer to go by Neil.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Neil's eyes darted up to Andrew's face, surprised. “I-” He swallowed, dropping his eyes again. Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes to meet Andrew's again, conviction in their blue depths. “What now?”

Andrew considered, chewing carefully on the inside of his cheek. “Take your shirt off, yes or no?”

“No,” Neil said immediately, flinching away from his eyes. He sputtered out a correction. “U-un-unless you really want me to.”

Interesting. “No. It's fine,” Andrew said, sliding further along the couch to give him more space, “Okay, but why? You're a stripper who doesn't take off his clothes. What are you hiding? We're playing a game here, Neil. Truth for truth. You give me a truth and I'll give you a truth.”

Neil stared at him silently for a long time before sighing. “Scars.”

“How many?”

“A lot.”

“As bad as the ones on your face?”

Neil's hand jumped up to press against the scars beneath his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. “No. Worse.”

Andrew nodded, accepting that answer and motioning him to go.

Blinking in surprise, Neil dropped his hand. “What's your name?”

“I thought you already knew my name.”

Neil smiled. “I do, but you have a twin. I want to hear you confirm my suspicions.”

“Andrew Minyard.”

“And your twin is Aaron. Nicky is your cousin. He's nice. Always gives me a good tip when I take one of his requests. Never gets handsy unless I let him. I like their significant others too, even if I only know them from a distance.” He must have seen the unease flash across Andrew's face because he quickly said, “Sorry. Kevin's an important person to me and my family. I go overboard researching the people he's involved with so he doesn't get himself killed.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't really fault him. It wasn't hard to research Aaron and Nicky anyway as their lives were documented on one or more social media pages. “Who gave you all the scars?”

Neil's jaw tightened, but he answered anyway. “My father and his associates.” His voice was tight, bitter. He sounded almost like he wanted to puke as he said, “Lola.”

“Lola,” Andrew mused, and again, Neil flinched, “What a stupid fucking name.”

Neil chuckled, the noise sounding forced to Andrew's ears. “Yes. Why did you decide to work for Kevin? How did that happen?”

“Riko tried to recruit me for his operation, but I don't work for homophobic piss babies. I needed a job, and Kevin -well, more Wymack- needed someone who could field Riko when he tries to overstep his line. Kevin and Wymack also agreed to hire my family. Riko didn't.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Which way do you swing?”

Neil smirked, and Andrew wondered how often he'd gotten the question. “I don't. I'm demisexual.”

“Interesting.”

Neil opened his mouth to ask his next question when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Instead, with wide eyes, he asked, “Can I touch you, yes or no?” mimicking Andrew's way of asking for permission. “Whoever that is, I need to convince them I'm doing my job.”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed and was surprised when Neil straddled his lap, sliding his fingers deep into Andrew's hair. The way Neil kissed was gentle and exploratory despite the situation. When Andrew gripped his thighs, he unconsciously arched into him.

The door opened without a knock, and Neil broke away a second later to stare over his shoulder accusingly. “What, Jean? I'm busy.”

“Clearly.” His eyes trailed up and down Neil, disgust etched into the curve of his lips. “Little Boss just called bother Riko and Kevin. You are to call him at your earliest convenience.”

“Thanks for the message. Now get out.”

“Putain,” the man muttered as he slammed the door closed.

Neil didn't move as his footsteps disappeared down the hall. With a sigh, he looked down into Andrew's impassive expression. “Well, guess this is ending a little early.”

“I suppose.”

Still, Neil didn't move, a sly smile pulled at his lips. “I'd like to kiss you again. It was pleasant. Also... do you want me to take care of that for you?” He pointed between their bodies where Andrew pressed hard against his ass, but politely kept his eyes on Andrew's.

Andrew was achingly hard in his pants, but he wouldn't ask for anything Neil didn't want. He didn't even know if Neil actually liked men or not. He needed to look up 'demisexual' when he had a moment. “Are you asking as part of your job or because you want to?”

Neil smiled at him, carding his fingers idly through Andrew's hair. “Because I want to. Because you listened when I said no, and didn't expect anything from me. Because you went out of your way to make me feel comfortable. Those shoes really are the worst after awhile.”

“Save it for another time,” Andrew decided.

This time, Neil beamed. “Sure thing. Bit I will ask for another kiss.”

“Demanding,” Andrew commented, but obliged as he tangled a hand in the curls at the back of Neil's head and pulled him down. When they pulled apart, he asked, “When will I see you again?” Because he was weak. He was weak for a pretty face and shady back story and the ability to listen.

'And to keep an eye on him to make sure he's not a threat to Kevin,' he told himself, even though it was a blatant lie.

“So eager,” Neil flirted, lifting himself from Andrew's lap to straighten out his clothing, “Probably sooner than you might imagine.” He plucked up his mask from beside Andrew.

“That's not an answer.”

“My schedule is never for sure, but I'm here most night. Come by any time. Ask for my by name instead of my stage name, and they'll send someone back for me. If you keep treating me like a gentleman instead of a whore, you won't even have to have Kevin pay for me.”

Andrew sat up straight. “I didn't-”

“I know. Just teasing. I'll see you soon, Andrew, and...” Neil trailed off, head ducking as he stood in the doorway and tugged his heels back on. When he finally lifted his head again, there was a sad smile gracing his lips. “Thank you. I mean it.”

And then he was gone.

Andrew dealt with himself quickly, using the supplies he found in a back corner to clean up before stepping out. He sat down heavily beside Nicky outside the VIP room. “I'm done for tonight if you want to drink.”

Nicky shook his head, but put away his phone and turned eagerly to face Andrew. “So, how was it?”

…..

Neil slipped from the room and immediately downstairs to call Ichirou. “Lord Moriyama, what can I do for you?” he asked politely because he knew Ichirou thought it was arbitrary. It made him uncomfortable, and being brothers, it was fun to needle him sometimes. “Oh, sorry. Slip of the tongue. Little Boss, what can I do for you?”

“I've told you not to call me that, Nathaniel,” Ichirou quipped back, “Either of those things.”

“Not as long as you keep calling me that.”

Ichirou chuckled quietly before his voice turned stoic. “I need you tonight. I've told the other to two stay clear for the night. I understand they're at the club currently?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Your man is already here. I'm having Moreau come in to begin set up.”

“Understood.” Neil shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the dressing room, not looking at himself in the mirror as he pulled a wig with long rust red curls into place. The hair cascaded down his back, ending at his waist. “I have to take care of one small thing before I change and head in. Is that possible?” He shimmied into a silver shimmery dress with a plunging back, the only one he ever wore into the VIP room.

“Do as you need to take care of Jane,” Ichirou told him, “I hope to see her again soon.”

“This weekend. Dinner,” Neil said, tying his mask back into place. Dressed as he was, he could almost believe he was a woman.

“Good. See you soon.”

The line clicked dead, and Neil dropped his phone back into his drawer. Renee and Matt stared at him with worry as he stepped into high silver stilettos.

He turned to them, holding out his arms. “How do I look?”

“Stunning. As always,” Renee sighed, and stepped close to fix his smeared lipstick. “We need to invest in that kind that stays forever. You go through so much lipstick. Will you need me tonight?”

“Later. I'll have Jean call,” he sighed. Before he hurried out, Matt grabbed hold of his arm.

“Don't let him push you around, Neil. You're not an object,” Matt whispered so Seth couldn't hear him.

Everyone, but Seth knew what happened to Neil in the VIP room, knew that he was one of the only ones it ever happened to. Knew it happened to degrade him and nothing more. They'd all had to pull him back together one night or another.

They worried, but worry never saved anyone.

Neil sighed again and pulled free. “Not my choice, Matt.”

“Not yet, but it will be.”

Neil smiled his wide, fake, plastic smile. “I can only hope.”

Nothing would get better for him until Kengo Moriyama finally found himself in the grave.

…..

He knocked on the door to the VIP room, not glancing at Andrew or Nicky as they eyed him. He could only hope that Andrew didn't recognize him with the long sleeve and hair and dress, which was for the best. If they made eye contact, that might not have been the case.

“Enter!” came Riko's imperious voice, and Neil repressed a growl.

He pushed open the door to purple satin and blue light, and Riko with Thea sitting on his knee like a very pretty dark doll. A scowl graced her painted mouth as Riko's hand played idly with the strings of her corset. When his hand drifted between her thighs, she slapped his hand away. “No means no.”

Neil was glad to see she hadn't lost her fire. She'd always been the strongest of them, but he wished Kevin would just get the guts to ask her out instead of shooting angry glares towards them while Jeremy sat against his leg and laughed generously. The best thing about the situation was that Jean wasn't there also mooning over Jeremy.

God, the VIP room was just a roiling pool of sexual tension. He wished Kevin and the others would get themselves into a happy polyamorous relationship.

“Ooooh, the Silver Fox is here!” Jeremy crowed, jumping to his feet and folding Neil in his arms. In his ear, Jeremy whispered, “I didn't know or I would have found a way to stop it.” When he pulled back, he trailed his lips along Neil's cheek.

Neil caught the front of his corset, whispering back. “It's fine. He didn't call for me today. Something else.”

Jeremy was beaming as he pulled back, leading Neil over to Kevin. He dropped onto the left arm of Kevin's chair, pulling Kevin's arm around his hips and tucking his fingers between his legs, unashamed.

Neil smiled seductively, leaning into Kevin's right ear as he gripped his wrist. “Can you grab Jane from the babysitter tonight? Ichirou...”

Kevin turned into Neil's neck and whispered, “Yes,” against his skin.

When Neil pulled away, he pressed a long kiss to Kevin's mouth. He beamed as he pulled back. “Well, that is all the time I have tonight,” he announced, turning back towards the door and hoping he'd get away, but Riko's voice filled the room again.

“Wesninski,” Riko called.

Kevin stared at him with a warning in his eyes as Neil winked and turned.

Stepping up to Riko's side, he snarked, “How may I help you on this fine evening, sir?” He smiled, and tried to keep the venom out of his words.

Motioning him down with two fingers, Riko wrapped a hand around the back of Neil's neck. “Next week, you will be here. We have an appointment to keep.” His hand slipped down from Neil's neck, following the curve of his back and slipping beneath the edge of his dress then the strap of his thong. “Think about the baby.” Riko hand pulled away, but gripped the back of his thigh hard enough to bruise. “Don't miss our appointment again. Understand?”

Anger and revulsion welled in Neil's chest, but he only barely managed to keep it contained. “Yes.” He stood straight, and gave the room another blinding smile. “Have a good night.”

Stepping out into the hall, Neil only managed to contain himself long enough to not slam the door. Instead, he threw a fist at the wall. He hissed at the pain that spiraled up his forearm, cursing at the split skin across his knuckles. “Fuck! God fucking dammit! Jesus fuck! Fucking Riko, piece of fuck! Nasty ass hands!” He dug the folded bills out of the strap of his thong, throwing them at the floor. He punched the wall again.

He'd forgotten Andrew and Nicky were outside the door until he heard their chairs move.

“Stop.” Andrew's strong, steady voice said behind him, grabbing his wrist as he made to punch the wall again. “You're going to break your hand. You're already bleeding.”

“Neil,” Nicky said gently, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Neil growled harshly, but couldn't stop from looking at Andrew.

Andrew glanced at him, recognition there, but nothing more. He dropped his eyes to Neil's hand, flexing each finger and then his wrist. “Nothing serious. Maybe a jammed finger or two. You should get that cleaned, bandaged and iced as soon as possible.” He didn't comment about the tears on Neil's cheeks.

Taking a step back, Andrew bent down to pick up the bills and pressed them into Neil's uninjured hand, meeting his eyes. “Whatever this is, it's not worth hurting yourself over.”

“'Kay,” Neil whispered, flabbergasted as he stared through the guise of his mask, but he felt like Andrew could see right through him. It made him uncomfortable.

His mouth was dry.

Swallowing, he turned. “Nicky, I'm sorry for yelling,” he said.

Tears filled Nicky's brown eyes, a smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Oh, Neil, honey!” he cried, enveloping Neil in an all encompassing hug that made Neil want to cry while simultaneously drying out his well of emotions.

“Thanks, but I have to go now, Nicky. It was... it was nice to meet you, Andrew. See you guys soon.” Trying to contain his shakiness, Neil strode away. He needed to change, fix his hand, and get to Ichirou before he started asking questions.

Because Ichirou didn't know.

And Neil never wanted him to find out.

…..

“He was trying to sabotage a shipment.” Ichirou, dark and lithe and several inches taller than Neil, stood over the whimpering man as Neil pulled on the gloves Jean had set out for him. “He was caught with a detonator in his hand. Cheep. Clearly homemade. It might not have even worked.”

The man had a head of mousy blond hair that was streaked red with darkly tanned skin. His fingers were laced behind his back, wrists tied to the simple wooden chair like his ankles. A gag had been shoved in his mouth, ear plugs wedged in his ears, and a blindfold covered his eyes.

“Who do you think he works for?” Neil asked, stepping towards the chair and unceremoniously throwing his aching fist. The impact against the man's jaw made his knuckles bleed all over again, but he held back the flinch of pain. He should have just hit him with his left hand. “Do you think this is going to be a problem?”

Ichirou looked around to where Jean stood against the wall, eyes sharp and narrowed and as dark as his brother's. “Moreau. Out. Watch the door. No one is allowed in.”

Jean bowed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Turning back, Ichirou said in a low voice. “I think he works for my brother.”

Neil paused where he was considering his tray of tools, eyes wide. “What? Why would he sabotage his own shipment?”

“Profit; if he exports than he can sell at whatever price he likes and keep everything for himself. Blackmail; he may be trying to ruin Kayleigh and Kevin. Favor; if he knocks them out of standing with my father, there will be an opening to step into. There are too many possibilities to consider. He doesn't realize he'll never be apart of the family the way he wants to no matter what he does.”

“Why Riko specifically though? Are there any clue to his immediate involvement?” Neil stared at the man in the chair, eyes narrowing. There was a cold, hollow spot in the middle of his chest that he was all too familiar with. It's where he retreated when Riko degraded him, when he killed, when he remembered his parents. “You don't think it's just my father's loyalists?”

“No. There have been shipments going missing more and more often. Riko's spending had increased. When the shipments are stolen, there is little to no casualties. Also, the raven tattoo behind his ear. It might be a coincidence, but...”

Neil allowed his father's ugly smile to pull up his lips. “Well, let's ask then.” He ripped the plugs from the man's ears and the gag out of his mouth. He yanked the man's head back by the hair at the back of his skull. “Who do you work for?”

“I-I-I-I don't know.”

“Wrong answer, handsome.” Neil held the man's head still before driving his fist straight into his nose. Cartilage shattered beneath his knuckles and blood gushed down the man's mouth. “Try again.”

“I don't know!” he shouted.

“Still the wrong answer.” Neil spent several long minutes like that, asking the same question and systematically hurting the man more when he got the same answer. Blood splattered his face, dripping down his cheek. His fist ached in its glove.

The man only spoke after Neil had broken his index finger. “Okay! Okay! I'll tell you what I know!”

Neil paused where he'd been bending the man's second finger back towards his wrist, relaxing the tension.

The man dragged in a shuddering breath. “I don't know what his name is. I really don't. I just know he's part of some big important family or something. They call him the Raven King or some stupid shit like that. I never met with him face to face. There were middle men. Idiots dressed in all black who move completely in sync. It's terrifying. I was paid thirty thousand to blow up half the shipment and take the other half. I got caught before I could do anything. I don't know anything else! Please don't kill me!”

Neil and Ichirou made eye contact over the man's head. “Were you working alone?” Neil asked, “Where were you supposed to drop the shipment?”

“N-no, but she ran off when she saw me get snatched. I've never met her before tonight. I don't know her name. I don't know anything about her.” He was breathing harder. “I was supposed to drop it off at some sports stadium. It's not used anymore. The sport never got off the ground or something.”

“Hm. What about the tattoo behind your ear?”

“Drunk night when I was sixteen.”

Neil stood, walking around behind the man. He waited for Ichirou's nod to continue. He gripped the man's head. “Thank you for your cooperation.” The snap of his neck dissipated from the room quickly enough, absorbed by black sound proofing and heavy curtains. “What do you want me to do about this?”

They both knew he wasn't walking about the body. He never disposed of the bodies, just like his father never had. That was someone else's job, but he usually paid Renee a pretty penny for her services. He trusted her more than he trusted any of the lackeys walking around the estate.

“I'm giving you permission to gather evidence against my brother for this. You may use whoever and whatever means you see fit. Once you have what we need, given my father's approval, you will kill my brother.”

Neil's blood began to boil with anticipation. When he finally got his hands on Riko, he'd rip him to shreds. They wouldn't be able to tell Neil's work from his father's.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #my writing #blood and diamonds #stripper!neil #bodyguard!andrew #I'm literally working part 2 as we speak

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izukult · 5 years

Text

this is the end {chapter two}

summary / things couldn’t get worse than this. but, they did. the chapter in which everything in your life goes wrong.

warnings / cult, kidnap, actual foRCED cannibalism (if that’s too much it’s under the first break and ends after the second break!), stalking, death, angst, angst, angST, not much peter this chapter, swearing. idk bad stuff man. i use the word silence a million times just call it motif. didn’t proof read.

word count / 2015

notes / wow this is hard to write. PLEASE read my disclaimer. sorry there’s not much peter. this is filler. coolio. this will be like the last chapter that only focuses on what they’re doing to u, i promise this will get momentum

disclaimer / please don’t support or romanticize the abuse in this fic! this is something i’m simply writing to help me deal with trauma and/or my mental health to try to give it a positive spin. i apologize if it is dark, i needed an outlet. :))

the white cotton stuck to your skin with the water, leaving your breath to moisturize the air as you gasped. you lifted your chained hands as far as you could, trying to brush the hair that clung to your face. you looked at the cracked porcelain of the lonely bathtub, nausea going to your throat as you saw how your blood mixed in with the ice and the water. your cough was scratchy, burning your throat further as you leaned over, gagging, water spilling up.

“son of a bitch.” you let your head fall towards your chest as tears formed in your eyes again; the sob that left your throat stung almost as bad as the cold. you knew you could get out of this. you weren’t chained to the tub, and they weren’t holding a gun to your head if you dared to move an inch. they wanted you to move, to see if you really could fight the way your personality said you could after what you’d endured. you wanted to lift yourself, heave your body up and make your fragile knees bend, but you didn’t know how to do that without making them shatter. you didn’t know how to breathe without your ribs piercing your lungs. they were killing you and every day you felt your soul disconnecting from your body.

the metal of the handcuffs on your wrists clanged against the tub as you tried to push yourself up. ice pressed against a gash on your stomach (that you didn’t know you had) through the fabric of your dress, evoking a short scream from you. your body racked with sobs that hurt you so much more and you grit your teeth as you continued to try to get up. your body sunk down, trauma holding your bones back.

“god dammit,” the words came out like a desperate prayer and you slammed your hands into the side of the vat. “god fucking dammit!” you were sobbing harder, your cuts pruning along with your skin, but your energy to fight had completely vanished. you knew you’d be in there until someone came for you, and you knew when they grabbed you out it would be a whole lot worse; so you might as well try to enjoy getting clean.

—————

your eyes widened, head shaking rapidly. you jerked your body against the hands holding you, tears welling through your disgust. “no, no, no.” your body thrashed as your eyes stayed trained on the plate in front of you. “no.” it was simple, white ceramic with a silver fork and knife on each of its sides. the white was splotched with red- blood. you gagged slightly, the smell reaching your nose. “fucking no!” you twisted yourself, almost moving out of their grasp. you desperately attempted to stumble away, not caring what kind of beating you would face, but they pushed you forward.

“you have to become accustomed to it,” one of them started as they moved to shove you into the chair. “the queen should have no limits, no weakness.” once you were sat, they were clamping your shoulders. you pressed against the wood of the chair enough to try to tip it, but they simply brought you back up.

“please,” the word was croaked- choppy and sickly and raw. “don’t make me do this, i’ll be good. i promise i’ll be good.” you didn’t typically beg them, and you felt as if any integrity you held was gone. but you’d also never had what you could only assume was a human kidney (you remember peter telling you the shapes of organs one time while you studied for biology, which caused you to tell him he sounded like a serial killer.) in front of you on a fucking plate.

there was silence around you. typically, you would’ve begged for silence. a moment without their heavy breathing or the sound of your pain, but now it was just eerie. they watched you and waited and when you refused to move for the cutlery, they did it themselves. and, for some reason beyond them, you didn’t seem to enjoy it nearly as much as you did when your mother would feed you as a baby.

—————

his fingers traced your arm, nails forming a temporary tattoo.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

he was vile to you. they all were. your temples ached as he pierced your skin with what could only be described as his claws.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“i missed you, pretty girl.” a scowl found its way on your face at the name they’d all become accustomed to calling you- although it was a name only peter should call you. and, quite frankly, his praises of longing for you go unnoticed at the fact you can’t remember which one he is.

you have about thirteen comebacks to each of his phrases of want, but you’d learned that silence was the biggest killer to them.

your eyes filled with tears (like they always did) when his hands slid under your top, which didn’t cover much to begin with.

“but now it’s just you and me,” the animation of his voice was scratchy to you and you wanted nothing more than to rip the voice box out of his mask.

you continued to count in your head, eyesight trained on the wall in front of you rather than the situation presented in front of you.

your eyelids started to hang heavy. you were tired. of all of this. you were tired of pretending you were okay.

maybe if you fell asleep, this would go quicker. maybe, if you slept well enough, you wouldn’t even remember he was here.

—————

you watched as they set up the camera, feet burning against the cold cement. since that day of exhaustion, the feeling had been perpetual. you wanted to care about how you looked if you knew the world was going to see you (or was that another lie?), but it was the least of your concerns.

‘how did the phrase go? if peter couldn’t handle you at your ugly state during your kidnap, he didn’t deserve you at your best. something like that,’ you thought as they moved you to the middle mark for the perfect angle.

you were certain the recording was trivial. some dumb black market snuff film type shit that honestly no one would end up watching, but more time in front of the camera meant less alone time with them. peter had sworn that you deserved stardom, so maybe this was it.

your eyes darted from the man in front of you to the one who pressed the button on the camera (a riveting job, honestly) and then forward, to the lens.

you didn’t pay much attention as they droned on about you until your loves name got mentioned. your head snapped quickly, eyes widened and gaze afraid.

“and, peter parker, this ones for you.” his head tilted towards you and you became fascinated with the way the inside of your bottom lip tasted.

you shook your head slightly hoping peter would understand you desperately meant this wasn’t about him. you didn’t speak up though. silence was key.

he continued to talk about you, about your glory, and your hands, and your lips, and the way your face felt when they’d hold onto you.

that’s when you realized the smell. you hoped it hadn’t shown on your face, but it probably had. poker had never been your strong suit. and then you were scanning the room again and they could tell and you knew that they wanted this and that they wanted you to know something was up and they wanted to record you finding out and your stomach started to fucking churn.

a sob left your throat as a light you didn’t know existed shined behind you. there had been a curtain between you and the wall that had now been moved and you saw it. the reminiscence of a series of girls who looked somewhat like you.

“oh my, god.” it was a quiet prayer for a being you couldn’t say you believed in as you stared at the heads with hair just like yours, eyes a shade so close to your own. “oh my fucking god.” you were louder this time, your knees wobbling as you struggled to keep your balance.

you couldn’t see their faces but you imagined the men around you were smiling. you didn’t recognize the tears falling until they hit the ground but you ignored it, disgust covering your features as you turned from the girls to the man who had been talking.

“what the fuck have you done?” your voice was raw. you were furious, you were sick, you were sorry. sorry for the people who’d never be able to go home.

“don’t worry, sweetheart, they didn’t come close to you.” you lifted your chained hands to your mouth, retching out a sob.

“you’re- you’re all monsters.” you felt vacant. you felt empty. you felt useless. they had died because of you. they had died because they looked like you.

“oh my god.” you repeated yourself, sobs wracking your body as you were recorded by the long forgotten camera.

“oh, sweetheart, no reason to cry.” he moved towards you, placing a hand on your head, tangling his fingers through your hair. and, you realized, this was the first time you’d truly wanted to kill someone.

you continued to cry, not following the urge to do any harm to him as you stood in your spot.

“did we go too far?” your mind screamed yes. yes you’re evil and you’re bad and i hate you all. yes you went too fucking far. but you stayed unspeaking.

“what do you want, pretty girl?” your eye twitched. you felt it. you felt the physical change in you. you turned your head, eyes meeting the eyes of his mask and you smiled faintly.

“do you really want to know?” your voice was sweet, sickly, and he moved his hand from your hair to your shoulder.

“of course.” your smiled turned to a scowl as you raised your hands to place them atop his own, fingers digging into his hands.

“i want to rip the skin from your fucking hands so you never had the fucking luxury of touching me or those girls.” you moved your hands to his throat, but none of the other men moved to his rescue.

“and then?” you simultaneously leaned into him and brought his head to you, where your nose was against the nose of his mask. “then, i want to blow my brains against the fucking wall.” even though your words came through gritted teeth, each of them were over enunciated.

you shoved him away by his neck, continuing to stand tall as you did so. “and, unfortunately for me, i plan to get what i want.”

your gaze finally found the camera lens again and you let out a small breath of realization. your hands were shaking. you knew there were the girls behind you, and the man you’d been threatening was gasping for breath now. maybe you looked like the monster.

you looked down at your hands, teeth slightly chattering, and you could only imagine how peter felt. he probably hated you. this was your fault. this was your fucking fault. all of it.

your mouth parted slightly and you gulped. “i-” nothing else came out and you bit your lip again, shutting your eyes as tight as you could.

you wanted to sob. to fall apart. to break. but, you had just made a commitment to your captors. you were going to give them hell, and then find your way there. you just hoped peter would understand.

the camera turned off and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

unbeknownst to you, peter was sat at the tv with wide, glossy eyes, praying you’d get out of there as soon as possible. just not in the way you planned.

tag list: @greenteavee @jacksnoodlez99 @sarahalkhalifaa @lilsxtan @honeymarvel @awaywithtime @5secondsofpeterparker

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman angst #peter parker angst #mcu #marvel #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #marvel cinematic universe #this is SO DARK IM SORRY #TBH I WOULDVE DROPPED THIS IF THERE WERENT REQUESTS #COPING WEIRD #THANKS

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p-and-p-admin · 4 years

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Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group. (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Emma Ficready and welcome to Behind the Quill, it’s wonderful to finally have the chance to chat with you.

Many readers will know you already from works like “Chimaera” and “Sins of the father” for those that don’t, a Trigger Warning from Emma that their works contain graphic violence and abuse and may cause distress to some readers.

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name? It's actually my previous name! Although very apt for a fiction writer. Though it's pronounced more like Thick - Reedy, I use it over my new name because my partner does not know I'm a fiction writer, and I don't think they'd react well if they found out, it's something they'd struggle with. I'm a long term partial carer for them and they have some mental health issues, so I try to avoid any situations that could be a potential trigger. Plus I like having something all to myself. Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most? I think I would say I probably relate to Severus Snape the most. I can relate to how 'damaged' he is, and how much the bullying he endured as a child, affected the adult he became. Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general) I think I like to read angst the most, as to me that's more real, I don't generally read stories that are entirely fluffy all the way through. I love a happy ending, but I can't cope with total fluff because I find it unrelatable, life isn't sunshine and daisies all the time. Do you have a favourite "classic" novel? I don't know if it's old enough to be classed as a classic, but I'd have to say 'To Kill a Mockingbird' by Harper Lee. At what age did you start writing? Very young. I had my first poem published by aged 10. How did you get into writing fanfiction? After being heartbroken at the end of Harry Potter series , I just wanted more and I had been reading fanfiction stories for years. I was constantly looking for stories, I'd get this thought in my head and it was like 'I wonder if I can find a story about this' and when I couldn't I just thought... well why don't I write it? I also find the writing very cathartic. What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? I love hurt / comfort fics. I'm a sucker for it. It is something that I represent quite a lot in my fictions, because I can see both Hermione and Severus in that role in their own individual way. Hermione who is constantly a champion and a voice for others, and Severus who is there quietly and thanklessly fighting for others the entire time, I can see both of them naturally falling into those roles of 'saving' someone , without it being out of character. What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? I'm not particularly active in any other fandoms, I have always been a Buffy Fan and I love the Inheritance cycle books by Christopher Paolini , though short of reading other fanfictions I am not active in the community like I am with Harry Potter. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? The epilogue, probably the most common answer you get and I know everyone is going to expect me to say because she never should've married Ron, but I can see her marrying him and subsequently divorcing him as being true to Character but I'd change the epilogue because I don't think Hermione would or should ever have settled for being a ministry worker, she deserved so much more. Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? I don't know if this counts but... Severus's Patronus changing after he survives the war. I see the doe as symbolic to the debt he felt he owed her, and I like the thought of the visual change of patronus, representing the emotional change he goes through in accepting the past and moving on now he feels that he's fulfilled his promises. Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? Quiet! I love music, the heavier the better actually, but I have to be in the right frame of mind for it. Otherwise I can sometimes get sensory overload. I hate white noise and things like asmr, I often wear hats or headbands, or have my hood up to block out some noise. What are your favourite fanfictions of all time? How long have you got? Honestly that's not an easy question to answer, and it doesn't have one answer. But I could say that some of the stories I find myself reading over and over again are 'Sin & Vice' , 'Another Dream' and 'Lay me low'. There's no way I could write all my favourites down here, but they're the ones I re-read most often. My favourite WIP is probably ' Inkstains' Are you a plotter or a pantser? 90% Panster. I will literally have one small idea, it could be one small interaction, one conversation or one event that pops into my head and I will end up writing a story around that one small thing. My story signs entirely stemmed from the one interaction of Severus handing Hermione the note. I knew I wanted that, and then it was by the pants from then on How does that affect your writing process? It means that I do update my stories in a regular order, so no one story is left too long without an update. I literally sit down, crack my knuckles and go 'right, I'm writing the next chapter of this story now. I write it and post it as soon as it's finished. I write from my phone too, so I apologise for any grammatical or spelling errors, auto-correct is the bane of my life at times What is your writing genre of choice? Have you read my fictions!? Interviewer: Well yeah, but I’m asking because you’ll be new to at least some of the audience. (chuckles) Ha. Sorry. Angst, all the way. I write angst and hurt/comfort, very dark stories as I pull a lot of my ideas from the real life experiences of myself and friends I met in therapy. Writing about trauma is very cathartic for me and helps me process my own feelings about my own history. Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why? Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it? How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write? That's a tough one, as there are elements to all of them that are important to me. None of the stories I write quite unfold like I imagined they would, they just sort of take off and I'm along for the ride. I'd be remiss not to talk about Not the Same girl at this point, as that story has probably had the biggest impact for me, the responses it's had and the people reaching out to me, both positively and negatively. I've had some outright hate over that fic, and abusive messages to the point that I almost gave in altogether and I think because of that people will expect me to say Not the Same girl is the fiction I relate to most, and while I do draw a lot from personal experience it's actually Father Mine as that resonates with me on a more personal level, that and an as yet unpublished WIP I have in the works, I think the huge dichotomy of feedback I've had for stories like Not the Same girl though, have both given me a thicker skin to the hate and encouraged me through the sheer overwhelming amount of people who’ve reached out, that find the stories cathartic in dealing with their own trauma, which is gratifying as an author to do that for people, when I myself am looking for that same release in writing it. It's great to have this mutual satisfaction and it's really rewarding. What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing? I think probably going to refer back to Harper Lee and to kill a mockingbird. The whole premise of telling a story that no one wants to hear or acknowledge, the things that are widely known but rarely spoken about. In “To kill a mockingbird” it's sexism, racism and prejudice against others based on their mental health or intelligence but we still see this so much in daily life, about how much hate and horror and suffering is seen in day to day life, the trauma that so many people have suffered is widely known but swept under the rug because it's easier. No. Hell No. Fuck that. Hiding doesn't change any of it, it may be under the rug but it's still there. People rape other people, people hurt other people, people discriminate based on gender, sexual preferences, skin colour, occupation, people have suffered in life and are damaged by it. Acknowledge it. Don't brush it under the rug, don't ignore it because it's more comfortable for most people, shine the light on it and say. "This is real. This happens. We need to acknowledge it and we need to do something about it" And I think that's shown in my writing , I don't glorify anything, I'm not writing snuff but I don't hide anything either. I make people see this is something that I won't gloss over. Does it make you uncomfortable? Good , it should. If people are uncomfortable , at least they are acknowledging the realness of that situation and not ignoring it. Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction? How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"? Nobody knows I write fanfiction, I use a previous name and I very much write for my own cathartic relief. I chose not to share that I write fiction because I'm a carer for my partner, I don't know how they'd react, it could honestly go either way where they'd be absolutely fine or it would trigger them and I'd have to stop, that's the reason I keep it to myself, I'd hate to do something that would mean I'd have to stop writing, not when so many people are so emotionally invested in the stories that I write. How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media? Reviews man. Reviews are the nectar of life, I read every single one and though I don't have time to reply to most, trust me when I say that I treasure each one and appreciate them immensely. I have my social media which I find the easiest way to speak to people , I have my own Page on Facebook and I'm on a number of SS/HG groups. It's hugely important to me to speak to my audience and I really encourage them to get in touch with me, I'm always happy to talk about my work and people have been in touch just to talk about their feelings or emotions that have been triggered by my work and I welcome it all. I mean, I've got people translating my stories them into French, into Russian...it's crazy, I never expected it to be so popular and I am always happy to hear from people. Though I apologise if I don't respond straight away, I have to write on the sly and sometimes real life takes over, so I can't log in for a week or more at a time. What is the best advice you've received about writing? First and Foremost, write for yourself. The rest is just gravy. What do you do when you hit writer's block? I move on to another story. I always have more than one WIP at any one time, If I can't find inspiration for one, I'll update another, or start a jumble of notes for others. There's always something that needs to be written down, even if it wasn't what I had planned on. Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing? Very much so. Almost all the trauma and hurt and situations that appear in my stories are either translated from my own experiences or those of people I know. Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? I had a number of stories in the works! When A Cure For Magic is completed, I will most likely post the next one up. I can't give too much away , but the next story is called "Catching Fire" and will be an incredibly dark story, with a lot of morally grey characters. Any words of encouragement to other writers? Just do it. If you want to write it,. write it. First and foremost write for yourself. Don't listen to anyone who's negative ,or unsupportive. I get so many people message me saying things like 'I want to be a writer', but don't know where to start' and to which my answer is you already are a writer. Writing is 99% mental, you have the words, they're there in your head, you just haven't put them down yet. Thanks so much for giving us your time. Any time , it's been great and I'm happy to answer questions any time , thank you for inviting me.

#fanfiction #fanfic #snamione #ss/hg #writing

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sheewolf85 · 5 years

Text

New Fic: The Perfect Night

Summary: Edge and Rus are celebrating their first anniversary; they’ve been dating an entire year! They’ve made an unspoken decision that tonight will be the night; the first time they have sex. They both think that the other has sexual experience, but in reality they’re both flustered virgins. Surely things will go smoothly and there will be no misunderstandings or mistakes of any kind, right?

Notes: Okay, so I just needed an excuse to write some spicyhoney virgin bois getting laid.

I feel like I need to warn that this shifts around in POVs a bit. Each of these boys has something to say, but it all narratively builds on top of what the other has to say, so I have to switch around for the reader to understand what the boys are doing and why they’re doing it. I hope that makes sense.

They’re both clueless and making assumptions they have no right making. If they were smart, they would have talked about this long before, but apparently they’re not smart. Idiot boys in love, le sigh.

Read it on AO3 here.

Or read it after the cut.

Edge looked around the room, his critical gaze searching for anything out of place. Everything seemed to be in order. He sucked in a deep breath and scowled; the air smelled heavily of the cleaner he’d been using all afternoon.

It didn’t bother him, but the person he was expecting to arrive within the next few hours had complained about it more than once.

So Edge took a moment to open a few windows before he sprayed some sweet-smelling air freshener and lit a candle to help mask the chemical cleaner scent. Once that was done, he looked around again.

The living room was absolutely spotless. He’d scrubbed the couch, shampooed the carpet the day before and vacuumed and extra time this afternoon, dusted every single inch of the place, every nook and cranny.

He’d done the same in the kitchen, the hallway, his bedroom, the whole house basically. If Red was living here, he’d have at least invaded to clean up enough so that any strong odors were taken care of. Since Red was living on his own these days, the room that had once been his was now his home office, and while he was pretty certain that Rus wasn’t going to be stepping foot in there, he’d cleaned it just as thoroughly anyway.

After one last tour of the house to make sure that everything was up to snuff, Edge headed to the kitchen to begin dinner.

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

Rus looked up and down the aisle, trying to remember what Blue had said and some of the things he’d learned from Edge. There were certain wines that were supposed to go well with almost anything, and since he had no idea what Edge was making for dinner, he wanted to get that.

Blue had named off three different wines he could choose from. The trouble was that Rus couldn't remember a single name.

He was too nervous.This night meant a lot for both him and Edge, and while it hadn’t been spoken, he was pretty sure they were going to take their relationship to the next level tonight. It was their first anniversary. A year ago today, they had started dating.

Rus swallowed hard and made himself stay on task. He was already nervous enough about tonight; he sure as hell wasn’t going to make himself look worse by being late.

“okay, so that bottle is three dollars,” he mumbled to himself, “that’s too cheap, right? don’t wanna go too cheap. this one’s six dollars. could be okay; it sounds kinda fancy.” He picked up the bottle and looked at it for a second. Another one caught his eye. “oh, that one is twelve. i have enough, right? yeah. it should be better than the six dollar one.” He put the bottle back and picked up the twelve dollar one.

At the register, he smiled nervously at the cashier and did his best to limit his fidgeting. This was gonna be okay. This was just an incredibly important date that he couldn’t fuck up if he wanted to keep dating Edge. That was all. No big deal.

After making his purchase, he left the store and took a deep breath before teleporting to Edge’s front lawn.

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

A knock on the front door caused Edge to startle, magic sparking at his fingertips. He shook his head at himself; he was expecting Rus, there was no need to be on alert.

And yet, he found he was far more nervous than he’d let himself acknowledge. This was a very important date, and Rus was expecting things. He’d been so patient, waiting for Edge to catch up, and Edge was pretty damn certain Rus wasn’t going to wait much longer. He wouldn’t force, Rus wasn’t like that, but Edge wouldn’t blame him one bit if he moved on.

The trouble was that Edge had no experience. Nothing. He’d never even kissed another person before Rus. Oh, he wanted Rus. That was the furthest thing from an issue, but his desire didn’t suddenly make him aware of what he should do to please his datemate.

And it wasn’t like he could go somewhere to get experience, not after they started dating. Perhaps he should have thought about that before he’d asked Rus out. It simply hadn’t crossed his mind, not a single time until suddenly it did.

Another knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts, and Edge went to answer the door.

As expected, Rus stood there smiling his goofy grin.

“hey, lover,” he said with a wink. “brought you something.” He thrust a bottle at Edge, and Edge fumbled to take hold of it before it could fall to the ground.

Edge smiled as best as he could. It was wine, that much was obvious, but he hadn’t even been aware this brand was still in business. It was cheap and bitter and wouldn’t go well with anything he’d made that night at all.

“Um, thank you,” Edge managed. “Please, come in.” He stepped back to let Rus in.

Rus did, stopping to lean in and press a quick kiss to Edge’s mouth.

“damn, it smells good in here. i already knew you were an excellent cook, but it smells like a restaurant.”

Edge couldn’t help the blush that warmed his cheekbones. If absolutely nothing else, he had his culinary skills going for him. Maybe that would be enough.

“Thank you. Are you hungry?”

The look Rus flashed him was most definitely hungry, but not for food. “oh, yeah. starving.”

Edge swallowed. “Good.” He stepped around Rus and gestured to the coffee table where a small platter was set up. “For an appetizer, I made goat cheese poppers with honey. They’re quite good. The main course will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

The two sat down on the couch together, and Edge tried to make sure he didn’t seem too stiff. He leaned back and watched as Rus picked up a popper and bit into it. Rus groaned in satisfaction and a string of mostly melted cheese stayed connected as he pulled the uneaten half away. He chuckled a bit, then put the rest of it in his mouth.

“those are really good. want a taste?” Rus leaned in.

Edge took the opportunity to kiss him, enjoying the lingering taste of cheese and honey in Rus’ mouth. For a moment, the kiss they shared were no more needy than any other kisses, then suddenly Rus groaned and pushed himself forward, forcing Edge back against the couch cushions, and got onto his knees next to Edge. His arms wrapped around him as he moved to straddle Edge’s legs.

Oh, fuck, he wanted this. He wanted this so badly and he wanted to give in and just let Rus show him what to do.

The timer in the kitchen going off interrupted them, and Edge felt Rus startle with the sound. He pushed Rus back just enough to breathe out a vague apology.

“I can’t let it burn,” he mumbled. Not tonight. Tonight needed to be perfect.

Rus slipped off him and to the side, and Edge hurried to get up and to the kitchen before Rus could see the evidence of just how much Edge wanted him glowing in his pants. It was embarrassing; he should have more control over himself and his magic.

In the kitchen, he turned off the timer and took a second to breathe and collect himself before he got to work.

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

Rus stared after Edge, his cheekbones bright with embarrassment. He’d come on too strong. He knew Edge wasn’t going to forgo dinner plans just to fuck him, and yet being pushed away like he had in favor of cooking was not a great boost to his ego.

Edge was a formal, old-fashioned kind of guy, and this wasn't just some random date. This was their anniversary. Of course Edge was going to want everything to be perfect. Just because Rus was desperate didn’t mean Edge was going to put his standards aside.

But what was going to happen later, after dinner was eaten and seduction was under way? Rus knew that no matter what parts he ended up working with, he wasn’t going to last long. Was Edge expecting an all-night experience? That was what couples did on anniversaries, right? And how was he going to tell Edge that this was actually his first time ever?

He couldn’t say that. Not to Edge. How in the hell had he lasted a year in this relationship? Edge demanded perfection in every single aspect of his life, and yet he’d chosen Rus, the most imperfect monster there was. Did he think Rus had experience? Probably. Rus was a flirt, but despite the rumors about him, that didn’t mean he spread his legs to everyone that flirted back.

Fuck, this was going to end horribly. He just knew it. Edge was going to realize tonight that Rus wasn’t what he’d advertised. If Rus was lucky, he might be let down gently.

No, Edge cared about him; Rus knew that. Edge might be a lot of things, but a careless partner wasn’t one of them. He’d be kind enough to let Rus stay the night as planned, probably out on the couch, and then they’d break the news of their relationship ending tomorrow sometime.

Then again, there was another possibility.

Some of the monsters he flirted with had turned him down harshly, saying they preferred virgins. It didn’t matter much that Rus hadn’t been serious about flirting, and he never told a soul that he was, in fact, a virgin.

Maybe...maybe Edge wouldn’t mind so much? Maybe he’d be pleasantly surprised to find out that he would be the one Rus meant it with?

Oh, he hoped so.

He still wasn’t eager to tell the truth.

As he waited for Edge to finish getting their dinner set up, he ate a few more poppers and looked around.

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

It took Edge far too long to finish setting up. He let himself get lost in the details, pushing his nerves away like he always did in favor of something he could control. The moment he finally convinced himself that each plate was as done as it was going to get, his hands began shaking again.

He swallowed against his anxieties and took the plates to the little alcove attached to the kitchen where he’d set up a small, more intimate dining table. After setting them down, he lit the candles in the middle and took a step back to admire his handiwork.

It was the picture of a romantic dinner. Nodding to himself, he went to get Rus.

Rus was on the couch when Edge entered the living room. He had eaten almost half of the poppers and was looking around the room the way he did when he was bored out of his mind.

Edge winced; what a great way to start such an important date, he thought to himself. Rus wasn’t much a fan of cooking and his thoughts on the presentation of a meal began and ended with how he would eat it, but that wasn’t really the point. Edge could have at least offered to let him help. He didn’t have to leave his boyfriend out here by himself.

The moment Rus noticed Edge there, he hopped to his feet and smiled. Edge smiled back, relieved that he didn’t seem upset.

“is the food ready?” Rus asked, stepping up to Edge’s side.

“Yes. I hope you're still hungry?” He had thought about them sharing those poppers, not making Rus eat them on his own.

But Rus nodded. “i’m always hungry for what you make, you know that.”

Doing his best to hide his blush, Edge took Rus’ hand and led him through the kitchen to the table he’d set up. He pulled Rus’ seat out for him and adjusted it as he sat.

“I’ll be right back; I’m just going to grab the wine.”

“but it’s right there,” Rus pointed at the bottle he’d brought that was sitting on the counter.

Edge had to think fast. “Yes, but I’m afraid that won’t go well with our dinner tonight. I’ll plan a special meal to go with that, and for tonight we’ll have one that I picked out, is that okay?” He wasn’t sure what would go with a wine like that, but he did know he could figure something out.

Rus smiled and winked. “sounds great, lover.”

Edge nodded and went to get the wine.

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

Dinner was, in a word, extravagant. Rus stared at his plate for a minute while Edge went to get the wine they’d be drinking, trying to decide how he was going to start.

Edge had made filet mignon with caramelized shrimp and bacon-wrapped asparagus. Each portion was settled beautifully on the plate with some kind of sauce drizzled prettily over everything. Even if Rus didn’t already know Edge and how much work he put into everything he did, he would have been able to tell that he’d spent some time making their dishes look as artful as possible.

It was a little silly, sure, but Rus would never say that. Edge took pride in his work, and just because his brand of art was one that got destroyed quickly didn’t mean it was any less important.

Edge came back with a bottle of wine settled in a small metal bucket of ice. He poured two glasses, then took his seat opposite Rus.

Just before Rus could forget himself and just start eating, Edge cleared his throat and reached out to take his hands over the middle of the table.

“Happy anniversary, Rus,” he said softly.

Rus smiled, his soul swelling with love. “you too. it’s been a great year.”

“It has. Thank you for staying with me. I know I can be a bit prickly sometimes, but I love you, and I want to continue showing it to you for the next year, and hopefully many more after that.” He lifted Rus’ right hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

Rus squeezed his fingers. “i could say the same about me, y’know? i’m not the easiest person to get along with, but we’ve both put a lot of effort into this relationship. and i love you too, so much.”

Edge pulled his hands back and picked up his wine. “To many more years,” he said softly, his eye lights gleaming with such tender love that Rus honestly felt a little choked up.

“to many more years.” Rus took his wine and gently clinked it against Edge’s before they both took a sip. “can i eat now?”

Edge chuckled. “Yes, you can eat now.”

Rus went to pick up his fork only to realize that there wasn’t one. Had Edge actually forgotten something so important?

“uh, edge?” He looked up to see Edge smiling at him.

“Yes?”

“don’t we need...i dunno...forks or something?”

He half expected Edge to curse at himself or even just go get them, but he didn’t. “Only if you really want them. I figured you might enjoy some finger foods tonight.”

Before Rus could ask what he meant by that, Edge picked up one of his shrimps with his fingers and held it out for Rus. When Rus didn’t do anything, still trying to process, Edge leaned forward a little further and grinned.

“Open up,” he goaded, going so far as to press the shrimp against his teeth.

Rus opened his mouth and let Edge feed him. The reality of what was happening finally hit him; his boyfriend, who so loved cleanliness and order and had once actually lectured him about the messiness of eating with fingers, had served them both finger foods because he knew Rus would love it.

How the hell has he gotten so lucky?

“holy shit, that’s good,” he mumbled through a mouthful. He quickly picked one up from his plate and fed it to Edge. Their eye lights met as Edge opened his mouth, letting his tongue come out to lick extra sauce off Rus’ fingertips.

Dammit, he loved Edge.

They continued to feed each other, and somehow Edge produced some utensils to cut up the filet mignon, but even then they fed each other by hand. Edge never once complained about getting drips of sauce on his shirt or having sticky fingers. It was amazing.

After they’d finished eating, Rus helped Edge clean up. He knew Edge probably expected him to leave the dishwashing all to him, but no. Not tonight. Tonight, Rus was going to prove once and for all that he could be useful. Granted, he’d proven that many other times in the past, but if there was a night to show Edge he didn’t mind helping, then it was tonight.

The dishes washed and put in the strainer to dry, Edge turned to pin Rus against the counter, his arms on either side of him.

“I made some chocolate covered strawberries for dessert, if you’re interested.” He leaned in and kissed him, deeply.

Rus lifted his arms to hold on, wrapping them around Edge’s shoulders as they kissed. He was heating up fast, so very ready to go to Edge’s bed and forget about food for the rest of the night.

But Edge pulled back only a moment later. They were both breathing heavily, and Rus was sure he wasn’t imagining the extra heat pouring off his boyfriend.

“Or…” Edge cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Or we can do something else, if you’d like.”

That was code, wasn’t it? Rus was sure that was a code, but he just wasn’t sure if he needed to say outright that he wanted to have sex or if he was supposed to be less brazen about it. He didn’t know the code language; what was he supposed to say?

Okay, he needed to stay calm. He needed to make sure he didn’t come across as too desperate or needy, but also that Edge knew what he wanted. He leaned in and kissed Edge softly.

“can we maybe go to your bedroom?” he asked, merely a whisper.

He felt a shudder go through Edge’s bones before he stepped back and nodded. “Yes, of course.” He took Rus’ hand and kissed his knuckles. He seemed to deliberate over something for a second before he tucked away his indecision and began to lead Rus away.

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

Edge was close to panicking.

He wanted this. He’d prepared as much as he possibly could for this. He had no fucking idea what he was doing.

He took Rus up the stairs to his bedroom and shut the door. He stopped, unsure if that was the right thing to do. Was it silly to shut the door if they were the only ones in the house? It would probably be weird if he opened it back up, right?

Yeah, it would be weird. He didn’t.

Instead, he turned to Rus who looked like he wanted to pounce. Fuck, he’d been waiting so long for this, and Edge was just now realizing he wasn’t going to last very long. Just the way Rus was eyeing him made him feel a little too hot.

Rus stepped up to him and pressed him back against the door, his arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as he leaned in and kissed him hard. Edge’s arms automatically held him back, pulled him in as close as he could get. A soft moan escaped Rus’ throat, deep and needy, and Edge found himself trying to grind against him, one hand dipping down to his hips to pull him in hard.

Rus gasped and lifted a leg, trying to wrap it around Edge’s hip.

“oh, thank god.”

Edge stopped for a second, pushing Rus back just enough to look at him. “For what? Are you okay?”

Rus chuckled a little and nodded. “i’m good, baby. i just wasn’t sure what you might wanna...y’know, what you wanna work with, and i wasn’t sure how to ask what you want me to make. that kinda answers that question.”

Edge nodded, so relieved that Rus wasn’t upset that his magic had formed without much prompting. He was a little embarrassed that he hadn’t thought to ask first, but he was sure he’d get over it.

Rus let his leg down and stepped back, a sultry smile on his face as he began moving slowly in the direction of the bed, his hands gripping Edge’s shoulders as he went. Edge’s hands never left Rus’ hips. When they reached the bed, Rus stripped off his shirt before he let himself fall backward onto the mattress.

Edge managed to remember that he needed to kick off his shoes and take off his button-up overshirt before he crawled onto the bed next to Rus. He held Rus tightly but let him lead their movements as they shifted to lay with their heads on the pillows. He let himself get pushed to his back, his hands exploring Rus’ ribs and spine as he climbed on top, still kissing wildly, and straddled him.

And then he started thrusting, moving his hips over Edge’s in the most perfect rhythm, and Edge couldn’t help but move with him.

They’d never made it this far before. He’d never felt anything so incredible, and he was quickly losing himself to Rus’ body over his. Suddenly, it was too much. He was too close.

“Rus…” He tried to push Rus back, to get him to stop, but he only whimpered and thrust again, harder.

Edge hissed. “Wait, fuck...”

It was too late. Only a moment later, Edge’s body tightened as an orgasm rocked through him. He clutched Rus close, crying out in pleasure as his hips rocked desperately against Rus’ body.

The moment it began to recede, Edge realized what had happened. His face burned with embarrassment; he hadn’t even had a chance to undress yet!

“what…”

Edge forced himself to open his eyes, and the look of confusion on Rus’ face was too much.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered miserably. Rus didn’t even try to stop him as he wriggled out from under him and went into the bathroom attached to his room. He shut the door and did his best to ignore his brightly burning face in the mirror.

How could he have let that happen? He had more control over his magic than that! At least, he thought he did.

And Rus...what did he think? All this time he’d waited for Edge to catch up to him, and he really thought he had, but apparently he was wrong. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t going to be able to please Rus the way a partner should.

He knew Rus loved him. He never doubted that; their relationship wasn’t based on the eventuality of sex. But that didn’t mean too much in the long run. Edge had seen couples fall apart because of issues in the bedroom. Rus had needs, and Edge knew now he wasn’t going to be able to satisfy them.

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

For the second time that night, Rus stared after Edge in utter embarrassment.

He’d made that same exact mistake earlier, came on too strong, but this time he didn’t stop when Edge told him to. He’d been overwhelmed with all different sensations, each a brand of pleasure he’d never experienced before. That wasn’t a good excuse; he should have been able to stop when Edge said stop.

But then it had happened. At first, Rus didn’t understand. All he knew was that he would never be able to get enough of Edge holding him so tightly and the sounds of his pleasure as he rocked into Rus. It was so incredible, but then it stopped.

Like an absolute idiot, Rus didn’t realize what had happened until Edge got up and left.

He didn’t know how the pieces fell together, but somehow they did, and he knew Edge had just creamed his pants.

Rus’ first reaction was to feel powerful; he’d been able to make Edge feel so good he’d come early. It was good. It meant good things. It meant Rus was going to be able to please Edge in the bedroom and they’d have a good sex life.

Except that it didn’t mean that at all, because Edge was currently hiding in the bathroom instead of holding Rus while he recuperated and got ready for round two. And that meant that what Rus had done was bad. He should have been paying more attention. He should have stopped the second Edge pushed him back.

Rus sat up on the bed and tried to think of something he could do to fix this.

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

Sitting on the cold seat of the toilet wasn’t comfortable to begin with, but it was only worse with cooling magic in his pants. Each shift only reminded Edge of what had happened with sticky residue making the fabric cling stubbornly to his bones.

He didn’t know what he was going to do. He did know that he couldn’t stay in the bathroom all night. Rus deserved better than that.

A shift of the bedsprings in the other room made Edge look up. Rus was still there? Waiting for him? Fuck.

Maybe...maybe he could still salvage this somehow? Maybe Rus would give him a second chance?

Then again, maybe Rus was just waiting for Edge to come out so he could say goodbye.

With a deep breath, Edge stood up. He grimaced and shifted, trying to get more comfortable. Looking down, he sighed in defeat. There was no escaping this. His magic had seeped through and darkened the front of his pants. He could either remove them completely and make an even bigger fool of himself, or he could try to get through whatever Rus would give him with some form of spoiled dignity.

Decision made, he didn’t give himself time to change his mind. He quickly stepped forward and opened the door.

Rus was sitting on the side of the bed and looked over when Edge emerged. He smiled, but it looked sad. Edge’s soul gave a panicked pulse, urging him to beg Rus to forgive him before Rus could say anything about leaving.

But Rus stood up took a few steps closer, his fingers and eye lights shaking.

“Please don’t leave,” Edge begged.

At the same time Edge spoke, Rus blurted, “i’m so sorry, edge!”

There was a second of silence between them.

“leave? why would i leave?” Rus asked, his voice thin.

Edge stepped forward and reached out hesitantly. Rus immediately closed the distance, wrapping his arms around Edge instead of just taking his hand. Edge held him tightly, willing him to stay.

“i’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his face pressed to Edge’s shoulder. “i don’t know what i’m doing; i’ve never done this before, but i know that’s not an excuse.”

So many thoughts exploded in Edge’s skull, the first being how could Rus possibly think he’d done anything wrong? He kissed the side of his head.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Rus. I’m so terribly sorry; I thought--”

He stopped abruptly as something else Rus had said caught up with him. He pulled back a bit sharper than he’d intended to.

“What do you mean you’ve never done this before?”

He probably just meant that he’d never waited so long for a partner before.

Rus sighed and met Edge’s eye lights sheepishly. “i mean i’ve never...i’m a virgin, edge. never had sex before. i was nervous to tell you; most people with a lot of experience themselves want a partner who knows what they’re doing.” He shrugged and tried to pull away.

Edge caught him and pulled him in tightly. His confession was like a balm on Edge’s soul. “Rus...love, it’s okay. I’ve never done this either. I know that’s probably obvious now; I couldn’t even control myself long enough to touch you.”

Rus went still in Edge’s arms, and Edge reluctantly let go when he started to pull away.

“you...really?”

Edge swallowed, trying not to get ahead of himself this time. He didn’t know what Rus was thinking and he needed to stop pretending that he did.

“Really. Is that...okay? I understand if it’s not; you have every right to want a partner with experience, but--”

Suddenly Rus’ mouth was over his, his arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders again, and Edge just held on and kissed him back.

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

Rus pulled back from the kiss a little dazed. He never would have guessed that Edge was a virgin, even after what had happened. If he’d been experienced as Rus had thought, he’d have gone at least a year without sex, and that would be a lot of pent-up need. But he hadn’t; he was just as inexperienced and flustered as Rus himself.

He smiled at Edge and took a deep, nervous breath.

“do we still wanna do this tonight?” he asked. He knew his answer. He was still eager and very much ready, but he was prepared to wait longer if Edge needed some more time.

Edge swallowed thickly and nodded. “I want to. Do you?”

“yeah, i really do.”

They both still stood in the middle of the bedroom, staring at each other. Just as Rus thought he might try to take the lead and pull Edge toward the bed again, Edge tightened his arms around Rus again to pull him in. They both stopped, unsure of which direction to follow.

Edge smiled, his cheekbones glowing dimly with a red blush, and let out an adorably embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “I just know I don’t want to let you go.”

Rus leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to Edge’s mouth. “i don’t know what to do, either, but i think we can both agree on what the end goal is here. maybe let’s get naked and lay down?”

Edge agreed, and together they worked to get rid of the rest of their clothing. Rus didn’t let Edge feel bad about what was in his pants; yeah old magic was uncomfortable, but there wasn’t anything disgusting about it. Besides, with any luck, they’d both soon be covered with a lot more magic from the both of them.

They laid down on the bed again, and Edge pulled Rus up close and kissed him.

“I’ll try to last longer than five seconds this time,” he said softly between kisses.

“i’ll try to be a little less eager,” Rus offered. He shivered as Edge’s fingers moved over his ribs and spine, delicately massaging between his bones in all the places that made him melt.

“Be eager; you’re fucking sexy when you’re eager.”

Rus tilted his head back as Edge kissed along his jaw to his neck, moaning as he bit lightly at his clavicle. He was definitely hot again, his magic stirring heavy in his pelvis and settling into shape with awkward swiftness.

“oh, edge,” his hips bucked toward his lover without his permission, then his leg lifted over Edge’s. “please, baby...please, i need you.”

As Edge pulled him close, he felt that his magic had already formed as well.

“Are you ready?” he asked, pulling back just enough to meet Rus’ eye lights.

Rus nodded and whimpered as his body urged closer to Edge.

Then suddenly Edge pushed him back, rolling on top of him, and Rus immediately wrapped his legs around Edge’s hips as he reached down to position himself.

Rus had heard so many things about sex. He’d heard about how good it felt and how close it could make a person feel to their partner. He’d heard that it could be addictive, that it was so important to a relationship, that there was nothing better than sex.

He’d never heard that it could hurt.

Edge stopped immediately when Rus gasped wildly, not a single fraction of it from pleasure.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Rus looked up at Edge, nervous again. “i, um...that hurt,” he said honestly.

Slowly, carefully, Edge eased his tip back out, wincing as he did. He kissed Rus gently and settled at his side, and Rus was about to ask him what he was doing when he spoke.

“The one and only time my brother talked to me about this, he may have actually given me something along the lines of good advice.”

It wasn’t much of an explanation, and surely Rus didn’t want to think about Red at a time like this, but then Edge’s fingers were between his legs driving out every thought in his head.

“Something along the lines of making sure my partner is actual ready and wet enough for penetration. I’m sorry I didn’t think of this sooner.”

Rus whimpered shook his head, attempting to let Edge know it was okay and that he wasn’t upset. He held onto Edge’s arm with one hand while his other hand reached up to curl into the pillow under his head. As Edge touched him, he bucked his hips and spiraled further down into a bottomless pit of need, until suddenly Edge pressed a finger deep inside him.

“oh, holy fuck!” he cried out, squeezing his sockets shut as he panted and rocked against his lover’s hand.

“Fuck, you are so gorgeous, Rus,” Edge growled, his voice adding to the need pulsing through Rus’ body. He added a second finger, pumping them slowly and using them to stretch out Rus’ cunt. Then, a third finger, and Rus was sure he’d never felt so full in his life.

“Can I try again?” Edge pleaded.

Rus nodded violently, both hands reaching out to pull Edge over him as his legs once again wound around his hips.

This time, when Edge pressed the tip in, it was nothing but intense pleasure and Rus found himself bucking up to get him deeper inside. He felt the deep vibrations of Edge’s growl as he eased in. He wanted more, so much more, and cried out as his hands grasped tightly at Edge’s shoulders. He was so big, and Rus could only crave more of him, filling him up.

“fuck, edge, baby…”

They both gasped together as Edge began rocking against him, pulling out only a little before thrusting back in.

“I don’t know how long I’m going to last, Rus,” Edge panted, his thrusts becoming wilder and harder by the moment. “I wanna make you come,” he growled.

Rus kissed him hard and reached down with one hand to rub at his clit. It was too much, but not enough all at the same time. Edge buried his face in Rus’ neck and growled again as he shifted, thrusting at a different angle, and suddenly Rus was there. His back arched as his soul burst open and waves of pleasure poured over his whole body.

He felt Edge clutch at him tightly and a new warmth spread inside him as Edge came, his voice a shuddering cry against Rus’ skull.

As pleasure receded and they came down from their highs, they both laid still for a long moment, panting together as sweat and magic both cooled against their bones.

Edge finally pulled out, wincing as he did.

“you okay?” Rus asked, reaching up to cup his face.

Edge nodded and turned his head enough to kiss Rus’ palm. “I’m good. Just sensitive."

Rus nodded back and let Edge roll off of him. He didn’t go far, only to his back where he then pulled Rus up close and kissed him.

“We did it.”

“yeah we did.” He kissed Edge again before he settled down and rested his head on his lover’s ribs. Despite them both tripping over each other trying to make it a perfect evening, it had ended up pretty damn nice.

A bit later, Edge got up and kissed Rus’ skull, saying he’d be right back. Rus didn’t bother trying to question him about where he was going; he was too tired. He just closed his eyes and thought about maybe getting under the covers.

Before he could make a decision, something warm and wet against his pelvis made him jerk awake. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked over to see Edge smiling at him as he rubbed a warm cloth over his bones.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, love,” Edge said softly, amusement in his tone. “I just thought we should clean up a bit before we go to sleep.”

He wasn’t wrong. They’d made a mess of themselves.

Still, he was grateful that Edge was as gentle as he was, because even though his touch was enticing, his bones were still damn sensitive and what could have been painful was only slightly uncomfortable.

Once Edge was done, he urged Rus to get up and under the covers. He then flicked off the lights and crawled into bed next to him.

“i really love you, edge,” Rus said under a yawn, snuggling up to Edge’s side.

Edge chuckled and held him gently. “I love you, too.”

Maybe in the morning they’d explore each other’s bodies a bit more, learn more about how to please each other, how to be together in a more intimate way.

With that thought, Rus let himself drift off to sleep.

#my writing #new fic #oneshot #spicyhoney #awkward first times #don't read at work #not for work #first times #anniversary #miscommunication #loss of virginity #embarrassment #inner thoughts of an anxious mind #but eventually they get it on #happy ending #:D

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sopewriters · 6 years

Text

saudade. [m]

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader; brief Yoonseok

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning: pretty heavy stuff. trigger warning for heavy implications of abuse, deprecating self-worth and abandonment issues.

Companion fic to In the Wrong. Definitely read that before giving this a shot.

souˈdädə/

noun

a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia.

Yoongi doesn’t remember the last time he’s been genuinely alive.

Oh, he wakes up every day, breathes in, brushes his teeth and goes to his classes regularly. There’s no way he doesn’t. But, as he wakes up, his chest feels strangely empty, void. When he brushes, he also looks into the mirror; sees deadened eyes and the shell of a happy boy. His mind buzzes with static, stuffed to the brim with cotton, as he listlessly watches his teachers gesticulate wildly about something he already knows doesn’t matter.

Yoongi might be breathing, might be existing, but he doesn’t really feel like he’s living.

He leaves school every day, fatigued and aching, only to be greeted with an empty home and, if he’s lucky, the ghost of a smile. No one’s left who wants him, no one who’s left wants him. Yoongi’s alone, and that’s okay.

Except, it’s really not. His heart beats strongly against his chest in protest, because this? This isn’t how it should be. He’s not supposed to be here, not in this house, not without a home. He might have a roof above his head but, in all actuality, Yoongi feels like he just might be homeless.

But beggars can’t be choosers. So, he bites his tongue, spends his days cooped up in the corner of his large bedroom, reads and reads and reads till his eyes burn and sting and water. His only company is silence, and he starts to wonder if that’s such a bad thing after all, because it’s better than having living, breathing humans around him who only have sharp tongues and angry words to deliver. Maybe being alone is okay.

Then, his mother loses her job. Well, not his mother; but, she’s... supposed to be. And, well, Yoongi figures that’s okay, because they’re still well-off, and his not-dad still has a job, and resigns himself to spending his time holed up in his room anyway because, whether she’s home or not, she won’t care.

Except he doesn’t realize that having too much time on your hands usually isn’t a good thing. Idle minds spew poison, and Yoongi starts to figure it out much too late.

His not-mom begins to take an active interest in his schoolwork, forcing him to sit at their long dining table—empty, desolate, silent—with hunched, trembling shoulders as he stutteringly reads out verses from his biology textbook for her from memory. Her eyes are watching—always, watching—him sharply as he tries his best to recall things that he doesn’t care about from memory. He tries not to get it wrong; he knows what happens if he does.

Being wrong is dangerous.

On one of the rare occasions she’s left the house, Yoongi discovers a keyboard sitting in the far corner of the attic, sneezing as he picks it up and blinking rapidly as he struggles to tow it down the ladder. He manages, though, and gets it up and running with moderate difficulty. Yet, when he presses down on the first note, it’s like time has come ticking to a stop, the world freezing in place to listen to that sweet sound.

Yoongi sneaks around a little to use the computer to teach himself how to read sheet music, eyes traversing over the screen with unveiled wonder as he keeps an ear out for sounds of his not-mom coming back. He doesn’t want anyone to see this, wants to keep it to himself because, even as a child, Yoongi understands that not everyone’s an ally.

His keyboard is stored safely, away from burning hands.

His not-mom sits him down one day. Yoongi doesn’t look at her, knows he isn’t allowed to without permission or reprimand, and stares at his knees instead.

“You’re not progressing quickly enough.” She says, mouth in a brusque line and Yoongi instinctively flinches, cursing himself for showing even that much. “I’ve found someone to accelerate your learning; he’ll be arriving tomorrow, at 5. I expect you to be…vigilant, and not so disappointing; he’s quite reputed, and I won’t have you muddling our name.”

Yoongi bites his lip to the point where blood wells up, though he quickly presses his tongue on it. Letting it trickle out would only make it worse.

Her gaze sharpens anyway, and Yoongi’s shoulders hunch in. “Have I made myself clear?”

She doesn’t like his voice, so Yoongi just nods minutely, hands clasping together.

“Good.”

The tutor comes, the next day, and Yoongi waits for him just like he’s promised to. Well, not so much promised as he was bound, but he needs to watch what he says. No one likes it when he doesn’t—especially himself.

He’s a bright-eyed man, the tutor, and just the sight of him takes Yoongi’s breath away because how could such a cheerful person possibly drag themselves here, to this house overwhelmed with dark clouds, and sizzling ozone?

He introduces himself to Yoongi, thankfully not under the watchful eyes of his not-mom, as Yeo Jin Woo. His smile is soft, almost tender, and to Yoongi, it’s the brightest thing he’s seen his whole life.

Jin Woo’s supposed to tutor him in math—Yoongi’s worst subject—and for a brief moment, Yoongi wonders, panicked, as to how he’s supposed to appear, in any way, smart to this ray of light. That fear quickly vanishes, as they settle down upstairs at Yoongi’s desk, and start from the very beginning; his tutor’s voice is light as he writes things down for Yoongi to see and, for the first time, Yoongi feels like he just might be able to learn without fear.

Just for once.

The sessions go by, flitting past quickly as the months leave, and seasons fade. During the summer, Yoongi finally works up the courage to let Jin Woo see what no one else is privy to, save for Yoongi himself.

“You wrote these?” Jin Woo breathes in amazement, as he looks down at the younger boy. Yoongi, in an uncharacteristic bout of shyness, nods and ducks his head, almost afraid of his reaction.

He expects nothing more than the usual bout of think bigger or this won’t do you any good or do something worth being proud of that his mind spews at him in the darkest hours of the night. Yet, he doesn’t get any of that. What he does get, instead, is a soft grin and a request to play it out.

“I used to play some piano myself, you see.” Jin Woo explains, eyes warm as Yoongi watches on in awe. “If you want, we can play after studying, sometimes.”

And so, they do, always being careful to lower the volume, ears tuned for the sound of Yoongi’s not-mom. See, Jin Woo has never been told to be on guard, yet he is almost instinctively, and that’s something Yoongi appreciates. Sometimes, it feels like Jin Woo’s the father he’s never had, and Yoongi wants to do anything he can to keep things as they are.

But things change. And not ever the way he wants them to.

His not-mom finds out, one day, and it goes worse than he could’ve expected. The door slams open, and Yoongi jumps to his feet in fear, eyes wide and words dead weight on his tongue as he looks into furious eyes that just want to burn, burn, burn.

“Let me talk to your mother.” Jin Woo says, setting a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, soft and assuring. His not-mom strides away, heels clicking, as his tutor sighs heavily. “Don’t worry, Yoongi.”

So Yoongi doesn’t, trusting him with wide eyes and an unwavering resolve, and waits. And he waits, and waits and waits, but he never comes back. Who does come back, though, is his not-mom, just to rip his carefully written notes away from him, to dig holes through the thin paper like she does to Yoongi’s heart. The keyboard disappears from his room, like it was never there, and everything becomes empty again. The low swell of the flame in Yoongi’s chest snuffs out again.

And, for the first time, Yoongi finally understands what heartbreak truly is.

Years go by. He doesn’t know how he manages to keep his head up till then, though everything urges him to just sink, let the water pull you in because the light doesn’t want you. Yoongi reads and works and reads and works till his hands tremble almost permanently, and his eyes die again.

He gets into a university that meets his not-family’s standards, and is shipped out first thing.

In a way, it’s a good thing. Yoongi doesn’t need to worry about anyone watching him over his shoulder, about poisonous breath coursing over his neck, about anyone but himself. But, at this point, he’s so used to being pulled back down that it’s hard to believe he might actually be able to pull himself back up.

He quickly learns that pretending to be alright is the only way to make people like you. And Yoongi… Yoongi needs to be liked, just once in his life. He doesn’t want to sink back into what he was before, but he doesn’t want to lean on anyone either. So he fakes his smiles, pretends there’s nothing holding him back while, in reality, rust begins to collect on the heavy manacles loped around his ankles.

He’s hyperaware of how fleeting these friends of his are, though; knows that they won’t stick around for long, that they just want the novelty of knowing his fake self, that they might just want to use him and discard him, because that’s really all he’s worth. And he’s surprisingly (not) okay with that, going about his life mundanely, robotic.

And that’s when he meets him.

He was the first one he ever loved.

He was a Dance major, liked puppies and kittens equally, and liked to cuddle on the couch during thunderstorms. He was the one who screwed over the stereotypes Yoongi had about gay men, telling Yoongi solemnly that it didn’t matter if his nail broke during a fight, but that his face was off limits.

When he thinks about it, a good two months into their friendship, it seems almost laughable, really, that Yoongi could ever exist without Jung Hoseok in his life. Not when Hoseok takes his cheeks so gently in his hands, comfortable and warm and not burning, and tells him to chase his dreams.

Yoongi switches out of being an Econ major and immerses himself in Musical Composition instead, under Hoseok’s kind, warm eyes. He’s never known just how much he’s needed this, wonders what he was breathing in before because this is what oxygen must feel like, filling his lungs and keeping him whole.

Hoseok is everything Yoongi’s ever needed, and it scares him just how much.

The brunette, though, never complains, never calls Yoongi clingy or pathetic or anything, assures him when he struggling to breathe, tells him how proud he is of him and how he’s definitely going to make it big and everyone will know your name, Yoongi. In turn, Yoongi shows up at his dance practices, beaming brilliantly at Hoseok when no one looks, cheers him on and keeps an eye out for his overworking friend.

There’s always been something between them, something that scrapes by the air, and they don’t ever put a name to it. That’s okay, though, because they’ve got time.

Except, Yoongi should’ve known better, really.

“I don’t know if I should take it.” Hoseok bites his lip uncertainly, and Yoongi smiles even though his heart is just shattering all over again. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Don’t be stupid, idiot.” Yoongi chuffs his shoulder with a mirthless chuckle, but Hoseok doesn’t laugh. “Look, this school is much better for dance, isn’t it? If you want to go: go. Don’t hold yourself back or whatever.”

Hoseok’s eyes are watering, and Yoongi’s want to join in but he holds the tears at bay. Now’s not the time for him to be selfish. He’s always been too selfish, and it needs to stop.

“Yoongi. His friend hides his face in the arm of Yoongi’s hoodie, and winds his arms tightly around his waist. Yoongi doesn’t move much, one hand resting on his bed, and the other pressed to Hoseok’s back in support. “Please just… tell me what to do.”

“Whatever makes you happy.” Yoongi says, firmly. And it hurts to say it, but Yoongi knows how it feels to constantly hold yourself down, to never catch another glimpse of happiness. Hoseok is the sun; Hoseok doesn’t deserve to feel that way.

“I don’t want to go.” Hoseok blurts out, tears beginning to wet Yoongi’s jacket and he inhales sharply, free hand lifting up to fist strongly in Hoseok’s shirt as he lets tears brim in his own eyes. A small sliver of hope firmly roots itself in his chest; because Hoseok says he wants to stay.

“Then don’t.” He breathes, and Hoseok leans back, eyes meeting his for a heart-stopping moment.

“I won’t.” He promises, head tilting slightly; Yoongi’s eyes shut when his lips brush over his forehead. Somehow, that makes everything feel worse, scarier. “I won’t leave you.”

He does.

By now, Yoongi’s figured that it doesn’t matter what he does, that he holds people back. Hoseok said he wouldn’t ever leave him, but… he did. Does that mean he’s coming back? Is Yoongi supposed to wait?

Sometimes, he feels like he can feel the phantom trace of Hoseok’s lips, still pressed into his forehead. It used to be warm, and soft and nice, but now it’s just cold. It makes Yoongi shiver, and not the way he’d like.

And, honestly? It hurts. And Yoongi wants to wait, wants Hoseok to come back even though he doesn’t know when or if, wants the void to be filled up again, and for the blue-tinted memories to become warm again. He needs a distraction, anything.

And then, he meets you.

The two of you click quickly. He doesn’t ever hope for anything more with you, sees you as just a friend, though he feels like he might be going crazy, needing someone to take his mind off Hoseok. He won’t mind, just for a little bit, right? It’s okay if Yoongi does this.

That’s why he asks you that question, on that fateful day. He still remembers the confused tilt of your eyebrows, your lips parted soundlessly in shock for a good few beats before you could even answer him. It scares him that he feels a little warm in his chest every time he looks at you, but he can deal with that.

He just needs to pretend.

And, for a while, it comes easily enough to him. He pretends his heart doesn’t stutter when you gaze up at him with those adoring eyes, that the sounds of your soft moans don’t heat him up from inside. That this is nothing to him, that you’re just friends.

And, after, he always feels so dirty, like such an asshole, and he hates it, scrubbing himself hard in the shower, till his skin turns pink and the tears squeeze from his eyes. He apologizes countlessly in his head, to you, to Hobi, to everyone, before composing himself and stepping out of the shower, eyes dry and face impassive.

Pretending has never been harder.

He doesn’t want you to feel the way he did, though. Doesn’t want you to feel used or like a toy, so he treats you carefully, stays attentive to what you need, stays on his toes. He does whatever he can to make sure you’re alright, and that’s where he makes his most fatal mistake.

He makes you get attached. And no, that can’t happen because he always holds people back, and they always leave in the end, and you don’t need that, you don’t need any of it.

So, when you ask him, that day, baring your heart on your sleeve for him to see, Yoongi is afraid. He sees what could be, and it terrifies him, because he can’t take it again, not again, no more. He’s tired, he’s tired of always hurting people and making them feel obliged to stay when they don’t have to, when it’s best if they just don’t.

He’s always been a disappointment, through and through.

He pushes you away, spits out vengeful words that run through his head on loop, says things he doesn’t mean and only watches as you crumble, happiness chipping away like fine china. He doesn’t stick around, though, can’t because he’s a coward and, so—he runs. He runs away like the spineless little boy he’s always been, till his face burns from the wind whipping through it, not just because of the tears.

And, as you disappear from sight, he wonders how long it’ll take for you to move on, how soon you’ll be able to find someone who can actually make you happy, unlike him. Who can ease burdens off your shoulders, not dump more onto them like he would.

Yoongi wonders, and he waits.

written by: midnight

I swear I am not sadistic, this just happened on it’s own. If you’d like though, you can come yell at me! also, constructive criticism is always, always appreciated, so if there’s any way you believe i can improve my writing, let me know!

Side note: ‘saudade’ is an interesting word in that its meaning can’t be fully encapsulated in English! there’s no actual literary definition that can completely explain this feeling, and I think what it intends to convey is a beautiful sentiment. If you’ve got time, give it a search!

#kkreationsnet #bangtan bookclub #bangtanwriters-net #kreativewritersnet #yoongi angst #bts yoongi #min yoongi angst #bts yoongi angst #bts angst #min yoongi scenarios #yoongi scenarios #if you thought in the wrong was sad #this is sadder #fun #kpop

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