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jaylaxies · 1 year ago

Text

ROMAN HOLIDAY

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, slight fluff, protected and unprotected sex, (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), cunnilingus, marking, creampie, mentions of petnames (princess, baby, darling, daddy), lots of kissing and brief mentions of smoking, stealing, running away from cops, drugs, somnophilia (consensual), etc.

WC: 10k words

SYNOPSIS: visiting your grandma’s place was more or less your entire plan for your summer vacations and only break you get before your university starts, although, meeting your neighbour, bickering with him and clutching his hand while running away from cops wasn’t in your bucket list.

PLAYLIST: welcome to wonderland by anson seabra, movement by hozier, if you let me by alina baraz, how to love by jen z, roman holiday by halsey.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my sweetest angels <3 i'm finally here with a jake fic which was long due! i hope you guys like it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated :D loveyou all <3

Bagging a window seat for a day-long journey sure is a blessing, peculiarly when you have to stay sitting at your spot in a train for a sum of six hours. Nestled in your seat, you sit straighter when the scenic view of the sea water meeting the sky graces your eyes—which you capture on your phone’s camera with a soft smile.

It felt as if it had been ages since you got out of your room, where you used to be cooped up during the entirety of your day, studying for your final year of school.

Your parents were concerned. They were highly proud of you for achieving top honours, yes, but it was about time you went out and cherished your life a little before you got winded up in the stress of University yet again, which was to start in one month.

And what’s a better place to spend your vacations at if not at your granny’s home?

It was a few minutes past six when you finally reached your desired destination, dragging your luggage behind you as a swish of cold breeze hit you. It looked straight out of a movie with how the train station was lit up by old-fashioned lamps which radiated warmth just by glancing towards them.

You hugged your cardigan tighter, walking out to find the taxi stand just outside the exit area of the station, pulling out your phone to show the driver the address you’d be meaning to go to. He was a kind man, helping you put your luggage into the trunk of his taxi. Your curious eyes looked out, observing how much the town had changed over the years.

You were seven when you last visited her hometown. Ever since then, your grandma used to be the one who visited you in the city, at your place, however she did not wish to leave her town and move in with your family. You could see why she chose to stay here—the serene view, the freshness in the air, the tranquil surroundings, it made the corner of your lips curl up into a smile.

It only got wider once the driver stopped his taxi in front of your grandma’s house. It was exactly how you had remembered it to be—a small but two story house with a big veranda which was lit up by fairy lights on the big bushes. The back door connected the path towards the small pool and then yet another door linked the beach from your backyard.

Your grandma stood by the door with the fondest smile gracing her ever so beautiful face, a few grey strands fell on her face and you couldn’t help but get out of the taxi and run towards her, capturing her in an embrace. A hearty chuckle filled the air, the scent of your favourite cookies encapsulated you, making you wonder if she had baked a batch just for you as you snuggled further, her hand patting your head exactly the way she used to do ever since you were a kid.

“I missed you, grandma.” Your expression said it all, and she looked more than happy to usher you in the house, saying how chilly the night was and you made sure to pay the driver, thanking him for his service as you dragged the luggage in.

A wave of nostalgia hit you as your eyes wandered off to observe each corner, but your grandma didn’t hear any of it, making sure her granddaughter was well fed and rested after the long journey.

She spent a good while telling you embarrassing stories of your father during dinner, which you listened to with delight, sharing your own stories with zeal before you climbed up the stairs, opening the door to the room you used to use each time you stayed over as a child.

It didn’t change, the bed was still too big for you, the windows were spotless as if it had been cleaned frequently and the scent of old books paired with a tinge of vanilla filled your senses. Your body felt calm and you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this way.

Calling your parents, you updated them by telling you had reached safely as you walked in the balcony, feeling comfortable in a sweatshirt and cotton shorts. The night sky resembled a velvet blanket full of glistening stars.

However, a figure clad in all black captured your attention. It was a bit beyond one in the morning, which is why it was unsettling to see someone walk in such dim lights. The stranger made his way towards your neighbouring house, making you wonder if he lived there.

Shrugging, you sighed. Sitting at one place for hours does tire your body, so you proceed to finally get into your cozy bed, setting an alarm before your grandma comes in to check if you require anything.

“Sweet dreams my little peanut,” your grandma smiled, closing the door behind you as you replied back with a gentle voice.

“Sweet dreams, Gigi!” It was a nickname you used for her, she found it lovely.

The placid atmosphere and the distant sound of waves acted as a catalyst to your sleep, and you slept soundly, not knowing that the calmness was just a start to your inevitable venture—something no one could have prepared you for.

You found yourself walking alongside your Gigi to visit the lady next door in the afternoon. She was a kind soul—as stated by your grandma, not to mention that she treated her like her own family, making sure to provide help whenever she could and that’s the reason why you were going to meet her.

It wasn’t the first time; apparently you used to play in their veranda a lot as a child, which again, you didn’t remember. However, when the lady—Mrs. Sim, opened the door, the memories came rushing back to you. She was jolly, almost as if she was waiting for your arrival and soon, you were engulfed into a sweet hug.

She called out your name in sheer excitement, leaning back to take a good look at your face, which sported a silly smile due to embarrassment.

“Aw, love. You’ve grown into such a pretty young lady,” she gushed, ushering you both inside and into the living room area.

“And you don’t look a day over twenty, Mrs. Sim,” you replied, not lying considering how youthful she appeared to be.

Her smile only widened at your comment, “now, another word and I’ll be floating in the clouds,” she said, making you chuckle as you got engaged in a conversation, sipping on the cranberry juice which Mrs. Sim had so kindly offered you.

It was decided that you’d be having lunch together, and you tried your best to help the two women in the kitchen but you were soon shoved out, saying you don’t have to do a thing and rest—that’s the purpose of your vacations.

Which made you sit down and use your phone, scrolling through random apps and replying to all the texts.

“Y/n!” Soon, you were called into the kitchen, and you poked your head in with a smile.

“Yes, Gigi?”

“Oh, peanut, can you please go upstairs and call Jake for lunch? It’s almost done.” She asked.

You tilted your head in confusion, mind wandering back to the guy you had seen last night and you came to the conclusion that Jake might be Mrs. Sim’s son.

You nodded, heading up the wooden staircase. Would you have to introduce yourself to him? Would it get awkward? You had no clue.

Knocking on the door twice, you took a step back and patiently waited for the door to open and so, you tried again to no avail. You wondered if he had his headphones on, which left you with no choice but to open the door, peeking in slightly only to find the room empty.

“Oh,” you let out, closing the door behind you for the sake of privacy.

“He’s not in his room,” you informed Mrs. Sim.

She sighed, serving a good portion of food for all of you, “I could have sworn he didn’t go out,” she shook her head as you three sat down. You let the elders start eating first and only then you picked up your chopsticks to do the same.

“I haven’t seen him in a while, what’s the tough guy up to?” Your Gigi asked.

“He’s busy enrolling himself into universities,” Mrs. Sim says, a sad smile taking over her face, “he says he doesn’t want to leave me and is aiming for nearby universities.”

“My my, isn’t he a darling boy?” Your grandma praised while you chewed on your food, which melted right in your mouth, silently eating while hearing them converse.

It didn’t take long for your grandma to ask them to come over for dinner the very next day, “it’s only fair that I cook for you too,” she argued when Mrs. Sim told her that she shouldn’t bother.

This time, your grandma let you help with the cooking, and of course, you were sent to invite the Sims over for dinner. You hugged your white cardigan close to your body—the nights tend to get chilly. Walking over to the neighbouring home, you rang the bell and were greeted with the sight of Mrs. Sim, who actually dressed up for the little dinner party.

“Oh, darling. Can you please call Jake down for dinner too?” She asked you as she was busy tidying up her own kitchen.

“Of course,” you smiled.

It was the second time you were heading up the stairs. This time, you were sure you’d be meeting the said boy. You found yourself standing right in front of his room yet again, gulping down your nervousness. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to introducing yourself to new people, school made sure you knew how to do that, however, your nerves were acting up.

With a deep breath, you knocked on the door, twice—just like the last time. The difference, however, was that the door was opened in this instance.

The scent of an intoxicating blend of masculinity and sophistication announced his presence, undertones of musk and wood laced up, providing him a complex aura altogether.

A tall guy with parted black hair leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow perfectly raised in question, his arms folded as his honey brown eyes with the slightest speckles of gold stared your way, his plump lips soon curling up into what seemed to be an assortment of a smile and a smirk.

“You must be Y/n,” he stated, standing up straight, which caused his muscles to flex enough to the point it was visible in his white button up.

You licked your lips unknowingly, moistening them up before you nodded, extending your hand for him to shake, “pleasure meeting you, Jake.”

His eyes travelled down from your face to your hand, a low chuckle left his mouth, him opening the door and stepping out, coming closer to you as he grabbed your smaller hand in his bigger, warmer ones in a firm handshake.

“I can see why my mom can’t stop talking about you,” he said, making you tilt your head in question, eyes never leaving his face which was captivating.

“And why is that so?” You asked, stepping back slightly as he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Because you seem to be a good girl,” he breathed, making you go still as he leaned back with the same smirk, leaving you behind, walking down the stairs.

Now, you didn’t expect the situation to turn out this way, yet you knew that talking to him further would only cause your head to hurt.

What even made him think about you being a good girl?

Is it your outfit? Plain, loose jeans paired with a pink top and cardigan. It’s basic enough not to be categorized so easily.

You scoff to yourself, already hating the situation as you walk downstairs, only to find Jake with a smile that genuinely looked sweet while he talked to his mother, helping her lock the door.

“I see you met Jaeyun,” she smiled, and you nodded, sitting alongside her, not sparing a glance at the said boy as you didn’t even know his real name was Jaeyun.

The table was set for four, which made you sit right across from Jake, who’s demeanour had changed as he complimented your granny, who laughed at his sweetness.

“Here, have some more,” he says, serving another portion to your grandma, who cooed at his kind conduct at the table.

He made sure to be on his best behaviour, only in front of others but when his gaze fell towards you, a bored expression overtook his features, which no one paid attention to.

You rolled your eyes. It hadn’t even been a whole day since you met and yet the boy made you dread his presence. He wasn’t being straight up rude per se, however his actions weren’t subtle either just like how he completely ignored your existence during the entirety of the dinner.

He offered to clean up, which included him having to clean up your plate as well, which was something he did with a frown on his face as Mrs. Sim endorsed that he should help with the household work.

Both ladies were in awe of how well mannered Jake was, and it left you irritated to no end before Mrs. Sim called out your name softly.

“Jake’s been acting distant lately,” she told you in a soft voice, making sure the said boy doesn’t hear you both, “and comes home late from his part time work, doesn’t share a lot these days too,” she sighs before looking at you softly, “you’re such a lovely girl, Y/n. I’m sure Jaeyun would love to have you as a friend he can rely on. Will you please look after him?” She asked, eyes sincere with worry for her son.

Now, you were provided with two choices—one to say yes and agree, but you’d have to be in Jake’s proximity for that. The second one would be a plain no, which would sound disrespectful and insolent.

So you put on your most convincing smile, which turned into an unadulterated one when you saw her being concerned about her son, “of course, I’ll do that, Mrs. Sim.”

“Oh please! Call me auntie,” she swatted her hand at your formal usage of name and you laughed, agreeing.

Since the dinner was summed up now and the dishes were done, courtesy of Jaeyun; you were asked to walk them back home, which wasn’t even a two minute walk, however you couldn’t say no to your grandma and hence, you agreed.

Mrs. Sim—or your auntie Sim, thanked you for the dinner, and proposed to at least have one meal of the day together each day, which you thought was a lovely idea given that you had grown to like the lady.

You were just about to leave when she went inside but a firm grip on your wrist stopped you right away, making you look up at Jake in question.

“You don’t have to bother being my friend, you’ll only be a hindrance in my way,” he says smoothly.

Your expression turns sour, almost as if you were bored, “why? So you can keep your fake good boy persona up and going?” You said, mimicking his tone.

Not expecting such a reply, he let out a surprised scoff, mixed with the slightest chuckle, “so what? It doesn’t concern you. Or are you offended that I’m not actually good, like you,” he whispered, leaning close, which made you realize how tall he actually was, “you know nothing about me, princess.”

The nickname rolled off his tongue seamlessly, sending a shiver down your spine while you kept a straight face, trying not to seem affected at all.

“Neither do you know about me, Sim. So stop making assumptions and just because I’m nice doesn’t mean I’ll take your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, saying it all in one go before turning around to leave.

“You should be scared of me,” he chuckles behind you.

“In your dreams,” you retorted, not sparing him another glance as your heart palpitated.

You had never talked to anyone in such a manner before, it gave a sense of newfound confidence—which you needed.

Jake simply watched you walk back to your place, shaking his head once you disappeared from his eyesight and still, a humorous smile never left his face.

You had updated your parents about your three days here and later called your friend to do the same, who was also busy with her own vacation bucket list, yet it was a refreshing talk given that you currently did not have much to do to entertain yourself.

Which left you to grab your swimwear and go for a swim—utilizing the pool in your backyard.

Gigi loved to sit by the pool and made sure that it was cleaned every now and then. She had gotten it cleaned right in the morning today, which also gives you an opportunity to use it.

The sunset casted a warm glow on the calm waves of the pool, the slight breeze in the air making it serene as you immerse yourself in the water, it closing you right in, feeling like a warm hug.

You started slowly with effortless strokes, enjoying the feeling of lukewarm water on your body. You stopped after a while, resting as you let your body float with your eyes closed.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we now?” A voice broke your state of tranquillity, your eyes opening in a swift and the water sloshed with how fast you turned around.

Of course, it was none other than Jake sim who sat on the pool lounge chair, arms behind his back as if he was sitting to enjoy the view.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You breathed out in question.

He looked at you, feigning disappointment as he leaned to look down at you, “oh, princess. Didn’t they teach you not to use such filthy words?”

His condescending tone only riled you up, “didn’t they teach you not to show up at someone’s place unannounced?” You mocked, getting out of the pool and trying to find your towel, only for you to realize he was sitting right on it.

“I’m simply here to get cumin from your grandma, we ran out of it, you see,” he explained, not sounding sincere as he let his eyes wander all over your wet body, barely covered with your bikini.

Your eyes, however, focused on the cigarette he took out from his pocket, making you gasp as you made your way towards him in an attempt to snatch it off his fingers.

Nevertheless, Jake was quicker to get up, grabbing your hand which was extended and pinning it up against the wall, his body pressed up against yours, successfully making your body go still with shock.

Yeah, you didn’t really adore your body’s fight or flight response.

“Fuck—” your eyes widened, yet he wasn’t the one to give you even a second to complain.

“Shh, princess. I don’t want a single bad word coming out of your mouth now, is that understood?” He asked, using his condenscending tone again.

You could feel every ounce of confidence which you had yesterday leaving your body as you stared into his honey eyes, an unconscious slight nod betraying you.

That satisfied him, although he didn’t bother changing his position, nor did he mind your wet body as he took out a lighter from his free hand, lighting up the flame, keeping it close to the cigarette which was pressed in between his lips.

Your eyes were transfixed on his face, observing how swiftly he closed the lighter, stuffing it in his pocket right before he looked away, blowing smoke into the air, giving you the greatest opportunity to stare at his consummate side profile.

He took the joint back in his fingers, returning his attention your way, “ever smoked before?” He asked, tone seemingly raspier.

Not trusting your voice, you simply shook your head as to provide him an answer.

He snickered, “of course you haven’t. It goes against your good girl rulebook, doesn’t it?”

“Shut up!” Your sudden outburst of anger only humoured him, even more so when you tried to snatch the cigarette from him using your free hand to prove him wrong.

He didn’t let it happen.

Instead, you found yourself looking right into his eyes with his slender fingers holding your chin in place. His breath was cool with a lingering smell of mint—which was probably due to the flavour of cigarette.

“Want it that bad now?” He raised his brows, “open your mouth,” he ordered, not giving you a second to comply, his thumb parting your lips as he desired.

He took a drag, inhaling the smoke deeply as you gulped, you could hear your heartbeat, or maybe that was simply how aware you were of your surroundings—your proximity with Jake.

Tilting his head, he leaned in again, mouth parted just the right amount. He let the smoke out and into your mouth in an agonizingly slow fashion, his lips on the verge of touching yours.

Your subconscious took over once you inhaled the smoke and it hit your throat. The burning sensation caused you to push him off as you coughed out in distress.

“Guess you can’t handle it, princess,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

You glared his way, composing yourself enough to actually snatch the cigarette from his fingers and take a deep puff, ignoring the way it burned your throat. It was your turn to surprise him by pulling him closer, grabbing his collar.

Your eyes were closed when you leaned in, blowing the smoke right into his mouth, causing him to take it all in, him never once closing his eyes. He stared at you with such intensity that you could feel it, despite your eyes being closed.

Once you were done, you breathed deeply, throwing the cigarette on the ground, “don’t get ahead of yourself, Sim,” that’s all you said before walking back into your home, rushing up the stairs and into your room just to avoid running into him again.

Only when you were in the safety of your room, you let out a frustrated scream right into your pillow.

Three days in your vacation and this boy had already driven you insane to the point you had smoked right into his mouth.

You took a warm shower before taking a nap—something you required to calm your heart before you saw him at dinner, again.

In contrast to yesterday, when he didn’t provide you with an ounce of attention, his behaviour had done a solid one eighty as now, he provided you with his utmost attention, passing you subtle smirks during the entirety of the dinner.

You were more than glad when auntie Sim distracted you by indulging in random conversations, and you can easily say you enjoyed the information she was providing you with at the given moment.

“And, and!” Auntie Sim said full of excitement, “Our Jaeyunie was four and you were three when it happened. He was so curious about you playing on the beach building sandcastles alone, he wanted to talk to you and so he collected flowers from our garden and gave them to you,” she cooed.

You looked at the boy, surprised with the information of him being a sweet baby. Now, he was the one who tried to stop his mother from spilling the stories any further, averting his gaze but you didn’t let it go.

“Aw! That’s so cute Jaeyunie. Where are my flowers now?” You asked, voice annoyingly high to bother him.

Your grandma laughed as auntie Sim only urged Jake to get some for you. He looked your way, annoyed and you only passed him a sweet smile.

You couldn’t deny, being a menace did feel good at times and the dinner wasn’t so bad after all.

Yet, the events of the evening didn’t let you sleep, causing you to walk on the balcony yet again and you couldn’t miss the figure clad in all black leaving your neighbour’s home yet again, at two after midnight nonetheless.

It wasn’t something you should be indulging in yet you couldn’t help but wonder.

What exactly was Jake up to?

In these ten days of vacation, you had done quite a few things which included learning a few recipes with your grandma, bickering with your neighbour, minus the proximity as you made your mission to stay away for the sake of your poor heart. Majorly, you had grown to adore the beautiful beach which was right behind your home.

Seeing how you had nothing to do in the given moment, you found yourself sitting on the warmth of the sand yet again, close enough for your feet to touch the water which was cold, juxtaposing the temperature of your body.

You didn’t know how long you sat there dazed, watching the never ending blue waves stretching as far as possible, till you gasped and got taken back into reality once a hand on your shoulder shook you in annoyance.

It was none other than Jake, who stood there with his jaw clenched, a bouquet of flowers resting in his right hand, causing you to raise your brows at him.

“Mom forced me to do this, okay?” He huffed, handing you over the multicoloured bundle of happiness.

It didn’t matter that it was Jake who gave you the flowers, it still made you happy, a smile growing on your face as the scent infiltrated your senses.

This certainly wasn’t the kind of reaction Jake was expecting from you. He was sure you’d throw a snarky remark or maybe simply not take the flowers from him, but even you couldn’t deny the beauty of nature.

“Thank you,” you whispered under your breath, surprising him even more.

It was one of the days you felt calm, not wanting to channelize your energy into something as useless as picking up a fight, however, Jake won’t leave without that happening.

“That’s it? You just need flowers to shut up?” He tantalizes you to answer back.

You only give him a sour look in return, wondering what he’s even doing on the beach wearing shoes, clad in leather jacket as if he was going for the cliché illegal races you see in movies.

“You should go, Jaeyunie,” you nodded with a fake smile.

Your phone started ringing just then, and Jake caught the display name right before you picked up the call.

It was Lee Heeseung—the guy who was your study partner in school and also the guy who was your competition when it came to academics.

The call wasn’t long, he had simply contacted you to inform you about the university he got into as you also filled him up with the university you got accepted into.

You assumed that Jake would have gone back, which wasn’t the case as he stood behind you, eavesdropping shamelessly. His expression turned into one of realization when he saw you actually smiling and talking sweetly to whoever was the guy who had called you, a scoff leaving his mouth on its own accord.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. Will text you later, goodbye!” You smiled, concluding the conversation only to find Jake still standing at the same spot, making you look at him in question.

“Didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he said, seeming bored.

A sigh left your mouth, Jake was great at making assumptions, “why do you care?” You asked.

“I don’t,” he replied, not missing a beat, “I should go, I have work to do,” he said, walking back to his place.

Your lips worked before you could process anything, “yeah? Like you do every night?” You asked.

He stilled, turning back in a second and crouching down to your level, grabbing your nape, pulling you close to him, “don’t get involved in my matters, Y/n. I’m saying this for your own fucking good,” he seethed out, causing you to gulp, your heartbeat rising up due to the proximity again.

“What are you up to, Jakey?” You asked teasingly, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Nothing that concerns you, princess. I’m being serious, okay?” He held eye contact, repeating the last word again, and you nodded.

“Okay,” you mumbled as you felt him caressing your nape gently before he got up, leaving you there wordlessly.

You didn’t realize how hard you were clutching the flowers while watching his walking figure. The sudden mood switch made you curious, and despite him warning you, it was something you wanted to see for yourself.

Was he in trouble? Was he caught up in illegal activities? Or was he simply out partying somewhere?

Another sigh left your lips.

You shouldn’t get involved in his matters.

You got yourself involved in his matters.

Sneaking out of your home was easy and you made sure to grab your jacket as the night got chillier than usual. All this to follow Jake.

It was easy since he didn’t use any cars, walking towards his desired destination. It almost felt comical how you tried to tiptoe for a total of fifteen minutes, hiding in random alleyways whenever you made even the slightest noise of stepping on a pebble.

For a second you even regretted coming out and spending so much energy on this, till you saw Jake actually stop and get inside an alleyway, which you approached exactly two minutes after he went in.

Peeking in, you noticed how wide the way actually was, people clad in black and hoodies which hid their faces were present all over, more than thirty people you’d estimate.

You squint your eyes to get a better focus of what they were up to, only for them to widen in realization when you found them exchanging packets and smoking what looked like drugs. Jake was also engaged in a conversation with a guy, purchasing drugs from him, which caused you to gasp slowly.

“Looking for something, kid?” A deep, hoarse voice spoke near your ear, causing you to flinch and move away, turning around to see a guy full of tattoos smiling down at you, which disgusted you.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, looking towards your right to see Jake looking your way, eyes full of shock and worry as he whispered your name under his breath, not believing that you’d actually follow him there despite him saying a firm no to you.

Maybe he was right, maybe you shouldn’t have come here.

“Uhm, I—I lost my way back home. I’ll get going now, I didn’t see anything I promise! You guys please continue,” you said, trying to sprint but the guy was quick to hold your jacket, making you stop as Jake rushed your way, leaving whatever he was up to.

Before anyone could take up any action, the sound of police sirens alerted everyone in the vicinity, which was more than enough for all the guys to scramble as you stood there with panic, trying to move your body seeing how the guys were climbing up the wall full of graffiti on the other side as it was the only way to their escapade.

“Run,” Jake breathed out, grabbing your smaller hand in his without any notice and running towards the same way, his jaw was clenched.

You followed wordlessly, mouth open with how deeply you were breathing, chest heaving up and down while you ran and reached the wall.

The sirens got closer as if someone had tipped the cops to search this particular area and you were worried if you both would get caught up in this mess.

“Jump,” he commanded and you stared at the wall, shaking your head.

“I—I can’t,” you stuttered, watching how the others claimed it

He pulled you closer, picking you up with ease as to provide you with some kind of elevation, which definitely helped when you grabbed on to the top brick, pushing your body up and jumping to the other side, stumbling slighting as you fell down.

Jake was swift, landing by your side before he grabbed your hand again, pulling you up with him to run again. Your legs hurt yet you didn’t stop till he pulled you by his side, getting a bobby pin out of his pocket to unlock the door, which he opened in a go and pulled you inside, locking the door.

Silence.

Your breathing is all you could hear, but Jake’s eyes were louder than anything else, which scared you even further.

“I specifically told you to stay out of it, what’s so hard to understand here?” He more or less shouted, pushing you against the wall.

You gulped, not looking at his face but he wasn’t having it, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look his way.

“What if they did something to you? What if the police caught you? What if something had happened to you?” His voice got smaller after each sentence, more breathy and desperate, making your heart break when he genuinely made it seem like he cared about you.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, which probably wasn’t helpful at the given second, “I thought that you were in trouble and,” you whispered, not having more to say.

He sighed, resting his forehead on yours as his eyes closed to get some rest. You couldn’t move, your whole body felt more alive than ever, maybe it was the adrenaline rush, or simply Jake being so close to you.

He stepped back after a few seconds, “go change,” he said, and that’s when you looked around to find yourself in a boutique full of clothes.

“W—why?” You asked.

“Because the cop saw us, he knows what we’re wearing,” he answered, trying to find clothes his size.

Maybe he saw you when you were climbing up, meaning that you barely escaped him.

“But surveillance cameras? Technically, won’t this be considered stealing?” You bit your lip.

“There are none,” he replied, “and we have more pressing matters than to sit and worry about stealing.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking your way, trying to find some outfit, or rather, you were stealing it given the circumstances.

“So, why were you out there?”

“I should be asking you that, Y/n,” he said when you went into the changing room.

“You had drugs with you!” Your voice boomed from the stall and he simply took off his shirt in the store.

“So what?” He uttered, pissed.

“Did you smoke drugs that day too? Did you give me drugs?” You screeched while asking and he opened the curtains, seeing you soothing the top down.

“I don’t fucking do drugs,” he groaned, “I buy it and sell it to the guys next town at a higher price,” he explained.

The dim light from the changing stall only enhanced Jake’s shirtless body, his abs full on display alongside his torso, which was well built. Your eyes settled on the tattoo he had on his left side of the rib.

Taking a step further, your fingers gently traced the intricate design, making him shiver without you knowing, his fingers clasping around your wrist to keep it away again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He whispered.

“I—” you started speaking, looking at him with wide eyes which shone of innocence and worry, lips jutted in the slightest pout and hair slightly messy.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes out, not letting you complete your sentence, coming closer to your face, “why do you have to do everything I tell you not to do?” He asked, however his tone wasn’t filled with anger.

It was something you quite couldn’t pinpoint yourself.

He sighed, “let’s get you home.”

“Are we gonna walk back? Isn’t it too dangerous?” You asked as he turned around to put on a shirt averting your eyes from his back which flexed with his movements, your body felt warm and throat parched, especially when he turned around with a smirk.

“We’re driving back home.”

You soon found yourself on a lookout at the garage entrance of what Jake called an illegal garage which was used for repairing old racing cars. The place wasn’t authorized, which is why stealing from here would work perfectly.

“How do you even know this?” You asked, exasperated as your nerves got the best of you.

It certainly didn’t help that the place was dark, and Jake wasn’t replying as he was hot wiring the car without a number plate

You had no idea where he learned that from.

“You need to learn things if you want to survive in this world, darling,” he said, focusing on his work, not once thinking how you’d shiver with his use of nicknames.

He’s glad it’s not some new high tech car, which he won’t be able to hot wire as they contain ignition immobilizers, which makes it impossible for it to happen—you nodded as he explained all of this, your focus elsewhere.

“Let’s go,” he said after a few minutes, seemingly done with his work.

You rushed to get into the car, a scream leaving your mouth as he started driving almost instantly, his fingers gripping the steering wheels hard enough for his veins to pop out as you struggled to put on the seatbelt.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you let out in half a scream.

“Why? Not having fun now, princess?” He chuckled as he changed the gear, resting his hand on your thighs right after which caused you to squirm around in your seat.

Your body was extra attentive when he was around, and you weren’t sure how to control your heart anymore, so you closed your eyes.

“What’s so fun about this?” You asked, clutching the seatbelt.

“You,” he confessed, messing up with your brain even further.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, looking elsewhere.

You didn’t trust his driving despite it seeming effortless, he was over speeding after all.

“Now, we both know that’s not true, princess,” he stated and you huffed, knowing that he was right ignoring the fact that he was insufferable.

His pace ensured you to reach home in record time, your legs felt wobbly the second you stepped on the road.

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a second,” he rushed, leaving you standing alone as he parked the car outside a random garage two minutes away from your place.

It was hard to believe how you got chased by police, stole clothes and a fully functional car all in one night.

You saw him jogging back to you after a few minutes, standing right in front of you, “I think I should get back now,” you started to stay, however he stopped you.

“You can’t do that, your gate’s got a surveillance camera so we need to go from the back side,” he stated, his hand automatically reaching for yours as you started to make way towards the back side, on the sand.

All of a sudden, you felt smaller, heat creeping up your neck due to the body contact and you let him guide you wordlessly before you realized something.

“Wait, how will you go back? Your place doesn’t have a back door,” you asked and he shrugged.

“I’ll just jump to the other side of the garden wall, princess. You don’t need to worry about me,” he teased and you pushed him away, the warmth of his hand leaving yours.

Tiptoeing into your home, you shut the back door as silently as possible before you rushed up the stairs and almost into your room, only to find Jake coming up with you.

“What are you doing?” You whisper asked, eyes wide.

“I’m curious about your room,” he answered with that usual smirk of his and you wanted nothing more than to slap it off his face.

“You—” you tried to say, but stopped the second you heard another voice.

“Oh, Peanut? You’re awake?” Your grandma’s voice called out from the balcony, and your mouth hung open as you shoved Jake into your room in an effort to hide him.

“Y—yes, Gigi! I woke up to get some water,” you lied, wincing slightly as she acknowledged it and wished you a good night in her soft tone.

You rushed in and locked the door, only to find Jake getting cozy in your bed.

It was one of those days when your grandma missed your grandpa, and she spent hours on the balcony, looking at the glistening stars to find solace. You felt sad but the more pressing matter here was—how to get Jake out of your room?

He can’t leave from the back door, he can’t go out from the front door as Gigi would see him, your room windows weren’t the opening type which left you with no option but for him to spend the night right here, with you.

“Now what?” You asked, hand on your forehead while you paced around the room.

“What? We sleep together, of course.” He had a cheeky smile on his face.

“Are you crazy?” You almost screamed, but you didn’t wanna alert your grandma, which made you repeat it in a hushed tone.

“Why? Too scared to sleep with me? You’re the reason we’re in this situation, princess,” he smirked.

You sighed. He was right about that part but you weren’t willing to sleep with him, so you proceeded to ignore him as you went into the bathroom to change into your comfortable clothes for the night.

Jake simply patted the bed when you came out, silently asking you to sit next to him, and suddenly you realized that you’re locked up in a room with him, which didn’t help your nerves as you sat down with him.

Somehow everything was rebellious against your rules when it concerned Sim Jaeyun.

“Can’t you sleep on the floor?” You almost whined.

He cocked his brow, “is that what I get after helping you escape?”

“That’s not it—”

“So? Is it the boyfriend?”

“I don’t have any—”

“The guy you were talking to in the morning.”

“He’s a friend—”

“Then there’s no problem, right?” he rasped.

You didn’t realize your lip was bitten till his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, tugging on it gently to free it, caressing it while looking into your eyes.

“Right?” He repeated.

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding ever so slightly.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, flustering you as you tried to look away, which wasn’t something Jake allowed, his fingers gripping your chin now, “god, you look so fucking innocent.”

“I’m not!” You argued.

“Yeah? Have you been kissed before, princess?” He asks, amused.

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, to the point you almost whimpered out loud, but you were glad you didn’t, “no. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t fucked anyone before.” You confessed, eyes on his plump lips.

“Oh? Who’s the loser who fucked you without even kissing your prettiest lips?” He asked, frustrated that someone even dared to touch you, even though his words said otherwise.

You gulped, “we were drunk,” you whispered, remembering your graduation party and how the guy had failed to please you.

“Did he make you feel good?” Jake asked, expression serious.

“What?” You were surprised by his question.

He wasted no time in pulling you to his lap, your gasp only made him smirk wider, his hands resting on your waist, squeezing it lightly.

“Did he satisfy you, princess?” His voice was an octave deeper, giving you goosebumps.

“H—he didn’t,” you stutter, which pissed him further, his jaw tensed.

“So you’re telling me that some asshole was deep inside you and didn’t even bother making you feel good?” He scoffed.

“Jake—”

“Y’know what I would have done instead?” He asked, caressing your cheek, his thumb resting on your lips right after, “I’d kiss your lips till you get obsessed with mine.” his hooded eyes lured you in.

His fingers travelled down to your neck, rubbing circles just above your clavicle, “I’d kiss you till my lips memorize every inch of your body, till your mind goes blank,” he whispers, biting your earlobe.

You breathe in deeply, a whimper leaving your mouth, Jake’s name rolling off your tongue in a whisper right after, making him groan in response.

“I’d ruin you, princess,” he breathes, eyes meeting yours.

“Please.” You struggled to breathe, his pointy nose brushing against yours, lips threatening to kiss.

“Say it,” he urged you, pulling your body impossibly closer on his lap.

There was no denying that Jake made you lose every sense of rationality and morals in you, it almost felt as if you were intoxicated in his presence, your heart raced, thumping faster than ever, urging you to say yes.

“Please ruin me, Jake,” you whispered, giving in and looking at him with innocent eyes.

“That’s a good girl.”

He was swift to push you down on the mattress, getting on top of you with hungry eyes to the point you almost felt as if you were a prey, and you liked it.

His cold chain brushed against your clavicle, making you shiver as he leaned down to press his lips against yours in a fervent kiss, a groan leaving his mouth as he finally had you so close to him.

Your fingers held on to his shoulders desperately, he was difficult to resist, and who were you to resist such pleasure? His plush lips moulding against yours, his hand squeezing your waist as you allowed yourself to get immersed into him.

You could feel the warmth spreading in your abdomen like wildfire, a gasp giving him the perfect opportunity to taste you, sliding his tongue down your mouth to deepen the kiss, the taste of chocolate lingering in his mouth and you let yourself moan into his lips.

You tugged on his hair, realizing how correct he was about you being obsessed with his lips as you found yourself chasing after it when he broke the kiss, making him chuckle at your desperation.

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, staring at your slightly swollen lips, which glistened with the mixture of your spit.

He wasn’t the one to waste time, his tongue licking your neck, placing kisses all over it, causing you to squirm and pant till he found the spot which had you rolling your eyes with sheer pleasure.

Placing a hand over your mouth to silence your moans, he felt a feeling of possessiveness take over him. You looked so fucked out and he hadn’t even done anything to you yet, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he sees someone else with you.

The mere thought had him biting and sucking on your skin in an attempt to mark the very spot which had you shivering and your toes curling. He slipped his other hand inside your flimsy tee, and in your bra, feeling your hardened nipples which he flicked between his fingers.

Your body felt more awake than ever, each touch of his getting a reaction out of you, “so responsive, have you been waiting for this, princess?”

You could only nod in desperation, trying your best to keep your moans at bay, not wanting to alert your grandma. He kissed your cheek before he got up to get rid of his own clothes, giving you a few seconds to stare at his faint abs, highlighted by the dim lights along with his tattoo, which you so desperately wanted to kiss.

The image of you looking his way with such big eyes, chest heaving up and down only ignited the carnal feeling of him wanting to be deep inside you.

It all felt new to you, being aware and not drunk this time, however it wasn’t just that—Jake made you feel this way, your thighs closing when you felt a fluttering sensation down your abdomen.

“Undress,” he ordered.

“What—”

“Undress for me, darling,” his words were smoother than the melted butter, making you work upon it instantly.

His eyes were fixated on your figure the entire time you took to get your clothing off, feeling shy under his gaze, not to mention the outline of his cock in his boxers intrigued you even further.

“Fuck, you’re all mine,” he said under his breath.

His plush lips were soon on your tits, his other hand fondling and caressing your nipple while he worked his tongue, swirling it ever so perfectly before giving it a soft bite, making you arch your back as you bit on your discarded clothes, tears forming in your eyes with these euphoric sensations.

He’s giving you all you could ask for and you? You’re a mess with your lipstick smudged and ragged breathing. Just when you thought that Jake couldn’t get you anymore wilder, he stuffed his hand down your wet panties, which brushed against your extremely sensitive clit. Even biting your clothes couldn’t stop a moan coming out of your mouth.

“You like it, baby? That’s my good girl. So pretty and wet all for daddy, yeah? Daddy’s gonna taste you now, princess,” his spoke, his accent deep.

“Daddy?” you asked, whimpering right after when his lips touched your bare pussy, pressing a kiss on your clit.

There was something in the way he addressed himself so confidently which made you want to submit yourself to him fully, only pushing yourself deeper into sub space as he worshipped every inch of your body.

“That’s right, baby,” he spoke against your, sending waves of pleasure through your body as his strong hands held your thighs open.

Obscene noises of him licking and sucking resonated the room as you bucked up your hips unconsciously, desperate for friction, making his cock twitch while he licked languid strokes up and down your cunt, his hot breath fanning your folds, wishing to hear you moan despite the circumstances.

“Shh, princess. We don’t want your grandma to know now, do we?” He smirked.

Your hand slithers into Jake’s hair, tugging on it as you convulse in pleasure, letting him continue his ministrations on your leaking pussy, his lips soft unlike his actions, which were rushed and aimed at your pleasure.

Your eyes roll back, arousal reaching its peak at the unadulterated pleasure as you repeated his name when he moved down to shove his tongue into your cunt, lapping at your juices when you reach your orgasm.

Yet he doesn’t stop, inserting his slender finger in your tight hole, pumping it in and out gently at first while you whine and he gets up, wetness coating his lips. He lets you taste yourself by kissing you yet again, his fingers entertaining your cunt.

Your breaths are heavier, louder and you can’t wait to have his cock shoved into you. You weren’t the one to have lewd thoughts in general yet here you were, moaning into Jake’s mouth, clenching around his two fingers which thrusted into you at a newfound speed.

“Yes, daddy! Yes, oh god,” you mumbled to yourself, letting the lust consume you.

His fingers curled inside you before he decided that you were ready for his cock.

“Let’s see how desperate you are, beg for daddy’s cock, princess,” he demanded.

Now that his cock was in view, you stared at it dumbfounded. It was veiny and stood hard and leaking, the tip was red and ready to fuck you dumb, it pushed you over the edge.

“Please, daddy? I’ll be a good girl for y—you please fuck me?” A tear left your eye, tainting your image even further which aroused Jake as a sadistic smile overtook his face.

You continued to beg him, and he gave you no warning as he lined his tip on your entrance, coating it with your juices, almost pushing it all in but instead, he gave you just the tip, which made you beg out of frustration.

“Tell me about your darkest fantasies,” Jake teased, seeing you pout and whine, “do it baby, only then you’ll get this cock into you.”

You were going crazy, “I—I want to be fucked awake,” you confessed, hiding your face.

“Is that so? How cute,” he commented, pulling your body flush.

Within a second, he thrusted into you sharply, your wet juices acting as the perfect lube to suck his cock right in as he bottomed out fully, cussing at the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

You could feel the imprint of his dick on your lower abdomen, and he pressed on it with a proud smirk, only to make you whimper lowly, your voice quivering with deep he was in you, “big—so big.”

You laid beneath Jake in such a way that the sight was captivating for him, your vulnerability paired with his ignited primal hunger.

He firmly wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling out slightly before he thrusted into you again as you were clinging onto him.

He had never found anyone like you before, it was as if you were the only one for him, the one who reacts to his touch in such ways, the one who drives him insane to the point he has to rile you up just to get you to talk to him.

His slow thrusts soon turned into relentless, pleasure inducing thrusts, and you found yourself bucking your hips up to meet him, helping him reach deeper spots in you, his tip hitting your g-spot.

Choked moans escaped your lips, reaching the point of complete incoherence as you got drunk in the intensity of Jake’s presence, your senses overwhelmed as he fucked you without any interruptions.

“Daddy—please!”

Sensing that you were close, he thrusted harder, twitching inside your pussy, his lips capturing yours as you both cried out, reaching your climax in harmony, breathing in deeply before he filled you up with his warm cum, which mixed with your own juices.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, causing him to laugh and pull you in a sweet kiss.

You could see the clear switch in his demeanour when he cleaned you up, asking gentle questions about how you felt or if he went overboard.

He was perfect.

Something had changed in the air, and you both were aware of it, but rather than verbalising it, you slept in each other’s arms, Jake staying up a few minutes just to see your peaceful face.

“Good night, princess.”

Jake woke up early despite not getting enough sleep, still not believing that he fucked you—the prettiest girl he swore he’d ever laid eyes on.

And he was sure to make your desires come true.

You wore nothing but his shirt to sleep, which made your pussy accessible to him, his fingers playing with your folds ever so gently as he didn’t wish to wake you up, not this soon at least.

He continued to do so for a remarkably long time, smiling each time he saw you stir in your sleep, his lips leaving kisses on your neck and shoulder blades till you were fully wet for him.

Jake was shocked when you revealed that you were into somnophilia, but who was he to deny his girl some pleasure?

His other hand was busy taking care of his raging boner, seeing you dressed in his shirt, your scent mixed with his only drove him crazy.

His grip on your thighs was firm when he straddled you, pumping his cock a few times before he pushed it in you with a few thrusts, the stretch being enough to wake you up with a whimper, your state disoriented but the second you realized that Jake was making your wish actually come true, you moaned.

His dick throbbed inside you and you were still not over last night’s adventure as curse words filled the air, along with the mist of your unholy activities and fervent longing as he thrusted with a groan, kissing and nibbling on the skin of your neck.

You were sure you had bruises forming on your clavicle by now, which also extended down your breasts and inner thighs, Jake being particular about having you marked through and through.

You could only sigh and plead for more, beg for more, the word daddy coming out of your mouth effortlessly, which was effective to the point it made Jake fuel with desire as he provided you with the most overwhelming, ecstasy filled orgasm, him coming all over your pussy, pulling out this time.

“I like you,” he revealed all of a sudden, his smile the epitome of boyishness which made you chuckle with your newfound happiness.

That’s one good way to wake up in the morning.

“Guess what, Sim. I like you too,” you confessed, growing shy by the last word and he pulled you in a sweet hug, swinging your body along his, your laughter filling up the room.

You gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.

You had forgotten to help him escape without your grandma knowing.

The escape was successful, and so were your holidays which were nearing. Your sadness was apparent on your face, having no desire to go back leaving your grandma and aunt Sim.

More importantly, Jake.

It has become a routine for him to slip into your room ever so professionally to sleep with you—some nights you did sleep, other nights he gave you every reason to be awake.

Which also served as a solid reason for Jake to stop indulging in the so called drug trade, one instance of almost being caught was enough for you both, not that you were involved in the first place.

He opened up to you, actually acting like a goof at times, juxtaposing his usual bad boy demeanour. He provided you with the best of both worlds.

Your feelings for the guy you used to find annoying were increasing at record speed per day, and now that it was finally one day before you’d leave, you couldn’t help but be bothered by Jake’s absence.

He’s always around, which made you wonder where and what he was up to, especially when you wanted nothing more than to spend your time in his arms, lip quivering at the thought that he might not wish to see you anymore.

However, that wasn’t the case when he showed up in the doorway, huffing and hair messy as if he was running.

“Jaeyun,” you whispered, letting him pull you in the comfort of his warm arms.

“I’m coming,” he breathed, making you look at him with wide eyes.

“What?” You blinked, almost stuttering.

“I’m coming to Seoul with you, princess. I got into the same university,” he chuckled as you snatched the envelope from him, jumping with excitement as tears filled your eyes, hugging him even tighter.

You felt like your heart was going to explode with the excitement, which Jake found heartwarming. He had planned this the second he saw you and got to know you. It was a given that he wanted to be with you.

“What about your mom?” You asked softly, realizing that she’d be alone.

“She’s gonna stay with Gigi. Our ladies are strong women, right?” He asked, caressing your lip, which you had noticed was his habit.

“W—when did you even apply—this is so amazing,” you went on rambling, which was something he adored, but kissing your lips to shut you up was his favourite thing, especially when he got to see your shy smile right after.

“So, we’re gonna be together?” You questioned, shyness taking over.

“You’re wrong if you think you’ll ever get rid of me now, princess,” he smirked, teasing you again.

This side of him made you faux scoff, “but what if I want to get rid of you?” You challenged, knowing well you weren’t capable of that.

He took a step closer to you, his broad smile illuminating the room, his hand resting on your waist pulling you closer, “I’d like to see you try and escape me,” he retorted.

“You want me that much, huh?” Your smile was coy.

He brushed your nose tip with his, making you chuckle with joy.

“I’ll always want my princess.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @ddeonuism @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @silenth1lls @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @bolliwon @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd

permanent taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added <3

#fic : roman holiday #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jake smut #jake hard hours #enhypen imagines #kpop smut #jake x reader #enha smut #jake #enhypen scenarios #jake sim smut

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writingquestionsanswered · 2 years ago

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do u have any sort of website that can tell me jobs in a small town? trying to write a story set in a small town but i cant come up with any ideas for jobs apart from the essential ones like police or hospital

Jobs in a Small Town

Government: mayor, city manager, city council member, city attorney, city clerk, code enforcement officer, customer service representative, finance director, fire chief/firefighter, paramedic, human resources manager, information technology department, librarian, municipal court clerk/administrator/judicial specialist/court security officer, parks and recreation director, planning and zoning director, police chief/officer or sheriff/deputy, public works director, utilities clerk, wastewater plant operator

Business: business owner/operator or employee (such as a clerk, receptionist, manager, or administrator) at a shop, restaurant, cafe, gas station, mechanic, tow truck, locksmith, landscaper/lawn care, handyman, florist, funeral home, pool cleaner, daycare center, grocery store, feed and pet store, car dealership, clothing boutique, ice cream parlor, liquor store, bar, nightclub, community theater, "big box store" (like Walmart), warehouse store (like Costco), movie theater, mini-golf course

Medical Services: hospital (administration, doctor, surgeon, nurse practitioner, nurse, nurse's aide, respiratory therapist, anesthesiologist, orderly, receptionist, lab worker, security, etc.) Doctor's office or urgent care (administration, doctor, nurse, nurse practitioner, receptionist, etc.) Dentist or orthodontist (administration, dentist/orthodontist, dental assistant, orthodontic assistant, receptionist, etc.) Nursing home/assisted living facility (administration, doctor, nurse, orderly, etc.)

Random: country club employee, dog walker, babysitter/nanny, home nurse, museum director/curator/specialist/employee, town archaeologist (if area is rich in history), industrial jobs (mining, factories/manufacturing, farming/crop production, fishing/fisheries), wedding coordinator, convention center director, attorney, judge, taxi driver, utility repair technician, railway worker, bus driver, school jobs (principal, teacher, teacher's aide, librarian, cafeteria worker, counselor, security officer, custodian), airport jobs (administrative, security, service provider/employee, airline worker, pilot, flight attendant, plane mechanic)

That's all I've got at the moment, but keep an eye on the comments in case others come up with ideas! :)

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 9 months ago

Text

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 1

I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who showed love towards the prologue and the memes I made, I've ended up gaining more followers in the last week than I have in the last couple years lol. Unfortunately Alastor isn't going to make an appearance for at least two chapters, but I hope you like what I've written so far. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 5278

Warnings: Period-typical racism and sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 >

PART 1: Chapter 1

Congrats! You're Adopted

Impluvius (Definition): Soaked with rain. (Adjective)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Tuesday, 11th June, 1929.

Arriving on your Aunt’s doorstep soaked to the bone in the middle of a hurricane was the last thing on your list of ‘crazy crap that could happen’. But alas, here you were, shivering and seething as you hauled your trunks up the steps to the front door. You were lucky enough that the area was only being battered by the edge of the storm, allowing you to find a sleeper train that was still willing to run from Montgomery to New Orleans, but it had left you in a sour mood when they had revoked their food services, because damn you were in the mood for a simple ham and cheese sandwich. And the mood only had to sour further when you found yourself standing outside the station for a good fifteen minutes waiting for a driver whilst you and your belongings were drowned by the ongoing summer downpour. Sure, you were used to the torrential downpour of the Yorkshire moors, where there were more wet days than dry, but you were prepared for that, not for the barbarous battering of the 70mph winds that forced you to stuff your useless hat away, leaving the once neat updo of hair that you had meticulously styled that morning to whip you in the eye whenever a gale flew past.

And, as if the gods had something out for you, the taxi that pulled up decided it would be hilarious to speed to a stop in the middle of the giant puddle that had accumulated next to the pavement, sending out a small wave that reached your ankles, soaking your frilly socks and favourite patterned heeled oxford shoes that your mother had gifted on your 18th birthday.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” You hissed to yourself, lifting your foot to inspect the leather. The driver was lucky that they were already three years old, otherwise you would’ve given him a glare deathly enough to send him to an early grave. Or so you hoped.

Thankfully, the driver didn’t pay you much attention, clearly too tired for small talk, simply asking for an address. Though he had paused when you spoke, turning to eye you up and down where you were cramped uncomfortably between your luggage in the back seat, grunting out a “You English?”, to which you nodded, muttering that you were visiting your aunt. The drive was silent after that, the only sound being the loud sputtering engine and the rain that pounded against the windshield. Minutes passed and you were quickly outside the house, which led to now: trembling in your boots, rapping your knuckle against the green wooden door with wet hair clinging to your face and eyebags that could rival a chronic insomniac.

It wasn’t long until the sound of locks clicking and unlatching reached your ears, and the door creaked open, an eye peeking through the gap. After it landed on you, it quickly swung open, revealing your Aunt Agnes in a nightgown and robe, with an oil lantern in hand. At the sight of her, you gave a half-wave and shaky smile.

She gasped your name. “Oh, there you are my lovely! I thought you got lost in the storm!” Realising the state you were in, she hurriedly placed the lantern on the hallway cabinet, rushing out to help you haul your luggage in. “I was so worried your train had been cancelled by the hurricane. Here, get yourself out the cold – you can put your coat to dry by the fire.” She handed you your leather duffel bag before crouching down and lugging the largest trunk into her arms with a grunt. Making sure everything was in the hallway, she went to close the door, though you didn’t miss the wary scan she took of the street, or the diligent focus of making sure every lock and chain was in place. The wariness soon disappeared, however, as she spun around to face with a grin, her thick braid of long, brown hair whipping over her shoulder.

Giggling as she bounded over, she wrapped you up in a strong hug, and you reciprocated with matching eagerness, but also trying your best not to cringe at the squelching noises your waterlogged coat made.

“It’s so nice to see you!” You said exhausted as you released her, teeth still chattering from the chill. “The rooves were practically coming off in Montgomery, so I’m surprised they were willing to keep the trains running.”

“Well there’s no need to worry about that any more, you’re here now! Come, I must get you warmed up.” she asserted warmly, leading you with a hand rubbing against your back, down the hallway into the kitchen. Rummaging through a wicker basket, she pulled out a spare nightgown. “Go see if your spare underwear is dry, then head to the bathroom across the hall and change into this. I’ll go make you some warm milk and honey.”

Thanking her, you quickly made your way into the living room where your belongings had been left, unlatching the clasps of the trunk to reveal your damp clothing. Luckily, there was some underwear in the middle that had not yet been affected, so you grabbed them and returned to the hallway to try and find the bathroom.

After several failed attempts of opening the wrong doors, you finally came across the bathroom, eagerly shedding yourself of your dripping wet layers, welcoming the warmth of the soft, dry underwear and ivory coloured nightgown. Returning to the living room, you dumped your wet clothes on your trunk, before walking around the sofa. Planting your behind in the armchair closest to the fire, you melted into the cushions with a relieved sigh, sticking your feet out in front of the flames to try and get some feeling back in your toes.

It wasn’t long before the clinking from the kitchen ceased, and your Aunt came back through, meticulously balancing a wooden tray with two large steaming mugs sat on top. Placing them down, she handed you the one covered in purple flowers. Thanking her, you instantly took a sip, letting the sweet honey and heated milk warm your insides as you watched your aunt take a seat in her own well-loved armchair.

“Sooo,” she began with a knowing grin whilst tossing you a crocheted blanket. “How’s America been so far for you?”

You scrunched your face in thought. “…Surprisingly not as bad as I thought. I think Great-Auntie Beatrice had influenced my opinion a bit too much growing up.”

Agnes rolled her eyes. “A bit?? That old woman has despised the country since that American lad up and left her back in the 1870’s.”

You snorted over your mug. “Well, she certainly has taught me to not raise my expectations about the place, but, I’ve got to say it has allowed me to be more impressed by what I see – especially the Appalachian mountains, they’ve definitely got a unique charm to them. Thank you, by the way, for letting me use your cabin up there.”

She waved you off. “Oh, it’s no problem, really. I would give you the place if the twins weren’t so keen on going up there.”

“Speaking of the twins, how are the three of you doing?” you asked.

Agnes let a weary smile cross her face. “We’re doing better, now anyways. The twins had some issues when starting school here – starting fresh at 16 in a completely different country certainly has its cons. It’s died down now, but in the first few months they were followed home by some kids who would taunt them for the way they spoke. Hell,” she laughed in disbelief. “they even had a teacher who thought they were Scottish for the first three weeks until I came in for a meeting about their grades and spent ten minutes explaining to her that not everyone in England speaks the same way as those pompous Londoners who squeal at the slightest bit of mud on their shoes.”

“What?!!” you guffawed, trying to stifle a laugh. “Please tell me they at least beat some of the kids up.”

“I wish.” Agnes sighed, sinking back in her chair. “But I don’t want anymore attention on them than they already have. Anything else and those kids will go looking for dirt on them and the last thing I want is for them to find out who their father is.”

You looked up at her in surprise. “You don’t??” you asked, perplexed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Agnes said sternly. “I loved their father to the ends of the universe and back, but the two of them being mixed English-Japanese will garner the wrong type of attention here. God forbid, if it gets out their mum’s a pagan witch it’ll be the end of peace!” She vented, throwing her arms up in frustration.

You pondered her words for a moment. “But I thought New Orleans was considered a safer place for things like witchcraft? Isn’t voodoo a popular religion and practice here?”

“It is, but it’s still kept more on the down-low. When you have a religion originating from a place like Africa, white Christians can get reeeaallll iffy about it, and it’s no different here – I believe there’s laws in place against parts of the practice.” She explained. “But it doesn’t stop them from keeping their shops open. Our neighbour Neliah runs a gorgeous corner shop near the outskirts – I can’t and won’t practice voodoo, but I do treat myself with a visit whenever I need new herbs, I could literally fall asleep in there with the lovely way it smells.” You smiled at the way she seemed to get lost in thought, though she quickly snapped herself out of it. “But anyway! How’s my sister doing? How did Emmett react with the news?”

You startled slightly at the sudden change. “Yea, mum’s actually doing alright. Dad… took a while to get his head around what was going on, you know, when he found her Grimoire and spell books, and the fact that we’d been hiding it from him for years, but he’s surprisingly calmed down about it. They still go to church, to keep up their reputation and all that, but he’s letting her hang up protection wards around the house, he even got involved with casting a spell with us at one point, even though he had no clue what he was doing the whole time.” You snorted, memories of your father’s wide eyes as he watched your mother wave a stick of incense around him, reminding you of the time when you were around six, you had returned from the forest by your house, covered in mud and brandishing stick-swords, declaring yourself as the deer queen as you dragged a shedded antler you had found among the moss through the back door – the look on your father’s face when he walked in from work to see you tying pink ribbons along the muddy, moss-covered bone was priceless.

Agnes let out a chortle, before sipping at her drink, her expression shifting slightly to one of mild concern. “And uh, how did they react when you were – ah – found out?”

Right, the whole reason you were here in the first place. “Not the greatest.” You said dejectedly. “Mum was distraught when they said they were thinking of taking me away – calling them every name under the sun the second they said ‘asylum’. So when dad suggested coming here, she jumped at the chance, but was crying the whole drive to the docks. I gave them an itinerary of where I was going to be and when, and they’ve been using it to send me letters and gifts, but it’s been hard being fully alone for the first time in my life.” You sank into your chair, tears building in your eyes the longer you spoke.

Agnes looked you up and down, her eyes filled with sorrow for you. “Well,” she began softly, standing up to approach you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “you're not alone anymore, so you can forget about those stupid government officials and your, uh,” she squinted her eyes in confusion. “what do they call it?”

“Over action of the mind.” You forced out with a huff. “They don’t have an official name for it, but me being fidgety and forgetful is enough for them to call me insane apparently.”

She held her hand out for you to take, which you did, allowing her to pull you up. She said your name sternly. “You are not insane. You’re the loveliest, most intelligent girl I know – especially considering the amount of books you’ve read in your 21 years.” You gave her a small smile as thanks. “Now, I’ve readied your bedroom for you. It’s a little bare, but you're staying a while so I’ve left it to be up to your imagination, and with how fast your mind goes a minute, I’m sure you’ll make it the most fantastical and extravagant room in New Orleans.” She explained as she helped you pick up your luggage, leading you through the hallway and up the stairs.

Walking down the main upper hallway, you followed her down a second one to the left, until you came to a stop on the first door on the left side. Lowering her voice to a whisper, Agnes gestured to the door on the left further down. “That’s the bathroom. I’ve moved the boys’ stuff out and given them the second one across the main hall so you can have it to yourself.” She then gestured to the two doors on the right side of the hall, with a sign hanging on each, though the candlelight was too dim to make out the words. “That’s their bedrooms, so I’m afraid you’ll have to prepare for some loud wake-up calls.” She said with an amused smile.

Opening the first door on the left, she led you into a spacey room, that was, as described, quite bare, with only a four-poster bed pushed into the top-right corner, a dark, polished set of drawers and matching wardrobe facing the bed on the opposite wall, along with a familiar -looking changing screen in the bottom left corner decorated with storks flying above a Japanese landscape – you recognised it as one of the wedding gifts your uncle had gifted your aunt sixteen years ago. In the top left corner by the large open window was a vanity with clawed feet, holding up a large, ornate oval mirror, a cushioned stool pushed under it. Next to it was another door that led to the balcony. Nearer to the bedroom door was a large roll top desk, covered in drawers, shelves and pigeon holes, though the only object present was a small typewriter tucked under one of the shelves.

Excitement filling you, you strode across the room to the bed, the feeling of the fluffy rug under your feet a welcoming sign. Placing your trunk and bag down as gracefully as you could, you spun around to face your aunt with a wide grin on your face. “This is amazing!” you gasped quietly, mindful of the two other sleeping residents. “You didn’t have to give me all this.”

“Of course I did!” Agnes exclaimed, walking over to give you another hug. “Did you forget your mother and I practically lived and raised you and the twins together until just a year ago? I’m treating the three of you as equals until the day I die.”

Looking down at her, you observed the slight wrinkles appearing under her eyes, and the dark rings accompanying them that hadn’t been there the last time you saw her back when she still lived in York. Sighing, you stepped back. “I know.” You agreed warmly. “And thank you, for everything you’ve done so far.”

She ruffled the top of your head, your long strands of hair still clumped together with rain water and the clips you had failed to pin it back with. “Anything for you. Now get some sleep, it’s past midnight and the boys will be giving you the earliest and loudest wake-up call once they figure out you’re here.”

You agreed, bidding your aunt goodnight before taking the candle she left for you over to the vanity, where you spent the next ten minutes trying your best to find every pin and clip in your damp hair, then tediously trying to brush it smooth enough to then twist into a loose braid. You also quickly took out your belongings that were wet, hanging them over the screen and the drying rack you had found in the wardrobe. Satisfied you collapsed onto the double bed, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. Burying yourself under the covers, you blew the candle out, bathing the room in darkness, and using the rain outside as white noise, you slowly drifted off, mentally preparing yourself for the twins when they would come to wake you up.

Oh, and wake you up they did.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 12th June, 1929.

You were barely able to pull your heavy eyelids apart when the door in the far corner swung open, the door handle hitting the wall with a resounding ‘BANG!’, followed by a very loud “BOYS!!”, echoing through the house.

That wasn’t the end of it though. You had barely begun to turn over at the sound of several pairs of heavy footsteps bounding across the wooden floorboards, when two very heavy weights crashed on top of you, causing your eyes to fly open as the wind was knocked out of you.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” you screeched, flailing about as much as you could until your arms were free, reaching over the covers to shove at the two long figure sprawled across you.

Loud giggling filled your ears, and you looked over your duvet to find two familiar identical-looking faces, with matching cheshire grins, peering over at you mischievously from where they laid across your body. Groaning, you flopped back down, choosing instead to stare at the forest green drapes strung across the poster bed. Though it was soon replaced by two mops of loose, curly hair as they peeked over the edge at you, one dark brown-almost black, the other a pale blonde. You were thankful of their opposite hair colour, because the only way you would’ve been able to tell them apart otherwise would be with the different freckles and moles dotted across their pale faces.

“Mum said you came in looking like a soggy rat last night.” Teased Allie, reaching out to prod at your cheek with a snicker.

Your own hand shot out, shoving his blonde head away. “Did not.” You responded groggily, as you tried to shove his twin off the other side of you. “Now get your fat arses off of me.”

They gasped in mock offence, immediately plopping themselves back on top of you, both reaching to poke and prod at your face. “You said a bad word ~” Ollie chimed in a sing-song voice, kicking his legs behind him playfully as he tried to shove a finger in your ear. Slapping them both away, you prepared for another onslaught, until determined footsteps drew closer to your door, and the two of them froze as their mother walked in, a wooden spoon grasped in her hand.

“ODESSEY. ADAGIO. Get off of your cousin before I send you to school WITHOUT breakfast!” She hollered, a thunderous look on her face.

The two of them collectively groaned. “Muuuumm, don’t call us thaaaat.” Whined Ollie, as he took his sweet time slowly rolling over your whole body before sliding off the bed to stand next to his equally grumpy brother. You followed not long after, sitting up at the edge to watch the ordeal with a smug smile.

“Call you what?! Your real names?! Well then, you better get yourselves downstairs!” she exclaimed, pointing at the door with the wooden spoon.

Reluctantly, they complied, but that didn’t stop Allie from poking his tongue out as he disappeared through the doorway, narrowly missing a swing from his mother’s spoon. Facing your aunt, you finally noticed that she was already up and dressed for work, donning a cream blouse with a blue ribbon tied around the neck, along with a matching blue maxi pencil skirt that reached just above her ankles. Her hair was meticulously styled in an updo similar to the one you had yesterday, her chestnut brown hair twisted back in swirls that ended in a loose low bun, with some strands neatly framing her face. She approached you, the short heels of her shoes muffled by the rug.

“Morning! Breakfast is ready.” She explained with a smile that you returned. “Freshen yourself up and come meet us downstairs, ok?” You agreed, and she disappeared back downstairs.

Rummaging through you clothes that were now thankfully dry, you opted for a loose blouse, and a pair of wide-legged tweed trousers, taking them to the bathroom. Slipping a leather belt through the loops, you quickly wet your hair over the bath, scrubbing in some shampoo and conditioner before rinsing it out and rubbing a towel over the strands until it was no longer dripping. Happy with the light makeup you applied, you headed back downstairs, running a hand through the wet tangles until you reached the dining table.

“I see what mum meant by soggy rat.” You turned to see Allie smirking over the table as you sat down in front of a plate full of English breakfast.

“I’ll turn you into a soggy rat.” You muttered back, stuffing half a hash-brown into your mouth, whilst simultaneously trying not to sigh in relief after not eating for at least 24 hours.

“OoOoh shiver me timbers!” he mocked back, waving his hands in mock fright.

Ollie’s tall figure appeared as he walked over from the kitchen - bacon, eggs, hash-browns and baked beans piled excessively onto his plate. “Mum told us you were going to be staying in our cabin up in the mountains.” He said as he sat down. “Did you like the gift we left?” he said with a grin half lopsided by the food he was shoving in his mouth.

You glared up at them from your plate. “Yes. The excessive amount of fake cockroaches in the bathroom was a very welcomed surprise. Odessey.”

The grin on your cousin’s face fell into a pout at the use of his full name. Letting out a prolonged grunt, he returned to his breakfast.

“Besides,” you started. “It’s not like I’m the only one suffering here. Apparently you’re both Scottish now.”

The two of them let out a collective groan, slumping in their seats.

“It’s not our fault Miss Sammie has less intelligence than a hamster.” Whined Allie as he stabbed an egg with his fork. “She thought Japan was part of China the other day!”

You let out a sharp laugh. “I hope that doesn’t reflect on your learning, or your mum will end up with steam coming out her ears.” You snickered.

“Thankfully it doesn’t.” replied Ollie, rolling his grey eyes as he stuck a whole wad of bacon in his mouth, making sure to not get any grease on his uniform. “Otherwise we’d be begging mum to move us back to England.”

“Speaking of moving, how are you guys finding it here?” you asked, hoping the answers were positive.

“Meh, it’s been alright.” Said Allie with a shrug. “The alligators are cool, but apparently we’re not allowed to wrestle them, which is soooo boring.”

“And the summers are shit. Nothing but heatwaves.” Ollie added.

“Well that’s what you get when you’re used to living in the North-East of England, where one of the nearest land masses is Norway.” You pointed out. “Plus English summers can be unbelievably humid, so I’m not sure what you’re whining about.”

“Oho, just you wait until July hits, then you’ll eat your words.” He retorted. “Hurricane season can be a bitch, too.”

“Don’t remind me.” You groaned. “I barely experienced the tail-end of one last night and it almost killed me.”

The two cackled at you, much to your annoyance, but is was cut short at the sound of your name being called. Looking up, you watched as your aunt poked her head around the doorway, the handset of a rotary phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, beckoning you over with an eager look, before disappearing back into the hallway. Quickly, you got up, marching round the table. Turning the corner, you watched as she ended the call. “Yes, yes. Thank you so much Mr LeBlanc, I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Yes – buh-bye now. Bye.”

Placing the phone back on its metal cradle, she whirled around to face you, excitement prominent on her features. “Sooo, that was Mr LeBlanc on the phone…” she proclaimed, eyeing you with a growing smile.

All you could do was stare in confusion, silence filling the wood-panelled hallway. Agnes darted her wide eyes between you and the phone, clearly waiting in anticipation for your reaction, but you only knew two things about New Orleans: jazz, and that it had a river shaped slightly similar to the London Thames. So you continued to stare.

Seeing that you weren’t going to react, she let out a sigh. “Mr LeBlanc runs Héritage Amour Réparation D’Antiquités on Julia Street down near the Mississippi River, and he’s willing to take you on as an apprentice?” she said as if it was the most obvious thing on Earth.

You blinked. “Wait, you’ve been looking for apprenticeships for me??” You gawked. “Since when??? I don’t think I even mentioned that I would be looking for one in the letters I sent you.”

“Oh, you haven’t.” she assured. “Your mum told me in a letter about a month ago when you were up in New York, so I thought I would speed up the process by looking for one for you.”

You continued to gawk in silence.

“Careful,” smirked Allie from over your shoulder. “You’re gonna catch flies.”

You didn’t even turn to face him as you reached a hand back, ignoring his whine as you smushed it against his face, shoving him back into the dining room.

“You –” you pointed at yourself. “You got me an apprenticeship??” She nodded excitedly. “Jesus Christ Agnes. At this point I’m gonna be indebted to you for the rest of my life!”

She clasped her hands together, throwing her head back as she laughed. “It’s no problem, really. I just want you to get settled in as soon as possible. I told Mr LeBlanc that if you accepted, he’s welcome to come for tea on Friday to meet you, then, if he’s happy, we’ll go for a day out around the city centre, and maybe visit him in his shop during that time. Sound good?”

You blinked repeatedly, trying to wrap your head around what your aunt was saying. “I – uh, yea. That would be great, actually.”

“Great! I’ll give him a call back, and you’ll meet him on Friday.” She proclaimed, satisfied as she picked the phone back up, holding the headset to her ear whilst twisting the numbers into the dial.

Still in a small state of shock, you turned back towards the dining room, slowly making your way back to your seat. Plopping down, you were met with the smug smiles of the twins.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to splurge big time on mum’s birthday. Don’t ’cha think Allie?” said Ollie, turning to his brother with a shit-eating grin.

His brother returned his expression with equal enthusiasm. “Oh yea. I was thinking, perhaps a top of the range Gramophone? I heard they have the new model in down at that shop on Canal Street.” He turned to you. “What do ya think cousin? Ready to serve our mum for the rest of eternity?”

All you could do was flick egg at their foreheads.

——

Friday came running up on you before you even realised, and here you were helping your aunt prepare roasted duck and vegetables whilst simultaneously trying to keep the twins away from the desserts in the icebox – you figured the sneaky buggers knew exactly what creaky floorboards to avoid. When the doorbell rang, Agnes encouraged you to go answer it, so, putting on a smile, you opened the door to welcome in your guest.

Mr LeBlanc was a warm and chirpy type of man: 63 years old with white hair and a matching frizzy moustache and beard, dressed in a smart blue shirt and neatly ironed trousers and slacks. He was around 5’7 – around the average height for men at this time. Sticking his hand out, he gave you a wide smile, and feeling the welcoming aura ride off him in waves, you gladly grasped his outstretched hand with your own.

“Bonne soirée! I do hope I’ve got the right address!” he laughed, his accent a funny mix between French and southern American. You assured that he was at the right place, introducing yourself. “Oh, what a lovely name! I am Ralph LeBlanc, but I’m sure your aunt has already informed you of me.” He said expectantly, voice slightly croaky and hoarse from old age.

Giving him a smile and a nod, you invited him in, bringing him to the dining room where your aunt and cousins were just finishing the preparations for dinner, and you all sat down, tucking into the delicious meal.

The dinner was successful, Ralph happily agreeing to take you on as an apprentice whilst also assisting him with running the repair shop, as he was currently the only one managing it. You had informed him of your history degree, and your school awards in art, and after that he was very eager to agree, almost acting excited when he invited you to come to the shop next Monday for a ‘starter shift’ where he would show you the ropes and make sure you were settled. It was as if the gods switched up on your luck, turning it round from the horrific start you had arriving here, and you weren’t planning on losing this good streak anytime soon.

“Now,” said Mr LeBlanc as he stood putting his coat on by the front door. “Make sure you are wearing something comfy and flexible, preferably pants if you own any, as we don’t want any skirts getting trapped in anything.” You nodded, and he paused for a moment, looking up at you. “Odd question, but how tall are you and your cousins? I don’t think I’ve met many with your heights, especially a woman.”

You glanced at your feet, now conscious of the way you towered over him slightly. “Last time I checked I was 5’9, and the twins are 6 foot. I uh, got it from my dad – he’s 6’1, and they got it from theirs.”

His eyes widened as he puffed his cheeks out. “La vache that’s tall. And did you say the boys were only 16? Wow, I really ain’t trying to make this sound weird but those magazine people would snatch you three up if they knew you were here.”

You laughed shaking your head, albeit nervously at the thought of having your picture taken. Thanking him, you waved him out and said your goodbyes.

Closing the door, you let out a relieved sigh, grateful that the evening was successful, and you retreated back to your room for the evening.

Thought it didn’t stop your excitement for the Monday to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you've enjoyed it so far! The ending’s a bit rushed, and Alastor's not going to appear for a couple chapters, but I hope I can make the wait worth it. See you soon for Chapter 2!!

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on-a-lucky-tide · 4 months ago

Text

Price takes Nikolai to a gig and gets more than he bargained for.

cw: sexual content towards the end.

Price stood on the outskirts in the standing area of Liverpool's Olympia stadium tracing back the decisions that had led him to this moment. He clutched half a pint of the worst lager he had ever tasted in one hand, his fingers bending the plastic inwards under a tense grip, while the other hand remained deep in the pocket of his jeans, turning his flat keys over and over.

Nik had thrown the flyer down on his desk about a month ago, and those big brown eyes had been turned onto their pleading setting immediately. Laswell likened them to the eyes of her barrel-shaped black Labrador; big, loyal, soft, irresistible. Price had asked her whether her wife knew there would soon be a third in their marriage and she'd thumped his arm hard enough to leave a mark. "Liverpool, this is where you live," Nik had said, stating rather than asking. "Can you help me book this?"

Nikolai could fix you a handgun in Liverpool no problem, replete with silencer and enough hollow point ammunition to create a very bad night for the Merseyside police force, but booking and attending a gig was apparently too much. Price had snagged up the flyer, squinted at the band name as if he had a chance in hell of recognising it, and then agreed.

Because why the fuck not? Brass were pressuring him to book some leave so they could tick the 'monitoring mental health and well being' box on his performance management, so it was as good excuse as any. You can kip on my sofa, he'd said, I can cook a better sarnie than the Premier Inn.

Nik's entire face had lit up. "Good! And you can come with me," a single beat of breath, "or I might get lost." There has been no time to argue the point because Garrick had knocked and entered, only to be scooped into a hug with a boomed, "Gaz, my brother, good to see you!" and the Russian-shaped whirlwind had disappeared.

So Price had done just that. He'd booked two tickets at the same time as his annual leave - three days should get them off his back - and put it out of his mind.

Not that there would have been much time to mull it over; they shipped out on a week long recon mission the following day, and the fallout that followed had taken up the rest of the time. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the train with Nik opposite, watching the British countryside sprint by in a blur of green and grey, drinking a beer and playing cards.

Being around Nik was easy. It wasn't just that he didn't take up energy to entertain, or require a certain mask from Price, it was more than that. Like he slotted into a part of Price's psyche built precisely for him, and Price felt happier when he was there. Laswell said it was like Nik removed the stick from Price's arse as part of his exfil service and Price had told Laswell to fuck off.

They had spent the afternoon mooching around Price's gaff. Not much to see really, but Nik had been fascinated by the dusty family photos on Price's wall and asked after every face; mother, father, sister, two nieces, a nephew, grandparents. He'd wanted to know about them all.

Then, with an hour and a half to go before Olympia's doors opened, they'd got changed for the evening. Price had thrown on the only shirt he owned that didn't come from the bargain bin of a Mountain Warehouse or the Army Surplus catalogue - a Ralph Lauren his sister has bought him one Christmas instead of the much preferred fishing-themed memorabilia - and stepped out to be confronted by Nik in a Slayer cut off tank that showed off the sides of his torso in a way that made Price feel hot under his designer collar.

"You look," Nik had said, studying Price carefully, head tilting to the side with a wry little smirk, "ill-prepared."

"And you look like Ozzy Osbourne took some steroids so I reckon it evens out." Nik had laughed at that and thumped Price's chest, and in the next moment they were sitting in the back of a taxi, Nik talking through the set list with the same excited gusto he did when pawing over a new bird in the hanger. Price was just glad he had remembered his Loop earplugs and couldn't help but smile along at Nik's excitement.

After drinking together through the support band and watching Nik grow gradually more and more restless, Price had sent him into the pit. He stood watching Nik from afar - "your shirt is too nice, captain, you stay here and finish your beer, I'll be back," - a man ten years his senior, orchestrate what the lead singer was calling a Wall of Death. More, more, further. Don't be a pussy! And then they sprinted at each other to the crescendo of a shredding guitar. Jesus fucking christ. Price lifted his lager to drink and then hesitated; he was pretty sure he'd felt something wet slosh over his face and shoulders, into his drink, and he couldn't be sure it wasn't piss, so he put his inordinately expensive and shit lager down on the nearby bar.

The last gig he had been to was at fifteen, a year before he joined the service. 3rd November 2000 at Wembley in London; the Smashing Pumpkins. He remembered it so clearly because of the hiding his father had given him for not only hitchhiking his way to London, but stumbling home off his head on cheap vodka the morning after. There hadn't been any Walls of Death at the time.

Nik stumbled out of the melee that had followed the wall's demise just as the song ended, and a line formed down the centre of Price's brow. A knot twisted in his belly, and a little further down, at the lumbering mess of a man that approached. His tank clung to the curves of his chest, darkened with sweat, his usually neat hair ruffled and erratic, the sheen on his arms and collar bones reflecting the strobe lights and drawing Price's eye. A shiver of something that felt far too fucking much like longing ran down his spine.

"You're bleeding," Price said dumbly, his throat tight. His gaze settled on the split in Nik's lip and the blossoming bruise on his cheekbone.

"Eh," Nik huffed, wiping a smear of blood on the back of his hand. "The other guy looks worse." There was that feral little grin. The same grin Nikolai wore in the field when shit had gone Pete Tong but they had still come up golden through sheer grit, dumb luck and the precise application of violent savagery. It set a fire in Price's chest, made something feral and untamed rouse from slumber, and suddenly there was an itch beneath his skin.

"Damn fuckin' right," Price replied, reflecting Nik's grin back at him. A breath passed between them, something unspoken and wild as their eyes met. And then there was a strong hand gripping his jaw, another on his hip, pushing him into the wall behind him. His back hit home, knocking the air from his lungs, and his fists bunched in the sweat-soaked material of Nik's shirt as Nik's lips pushed to his. The coppery taste of blood mixed with cheap beer and cigar smoke, and every sane thought fell out of Price's head, replaced instead by a maelstrom of chaos centered around the feel of Nik's tongue, the softness of his lips, the demand of his teeth and the rock hard bulge that ground into Price's hips.

Price was sure his moan would have been audible but for the thump and scream of the music. Nik kept that grip on his jaw as he damn near plundered Price's mouth for what he wanted, but the other hand left his hip to push against the wall, clenched in a fist near Price's head. When they pulled apart, Price sucked in a strangled gasp of air and Nik pushed his face into the scruff of Price's beard. "Ty prekrasen," Nik breathed, "ya tebya hochu."

Price had been practicing Russian. He still couldn't read it, but even if he hadn't understood the words or the low growl in Nik's voice, the hunger in Nik's kiss on his neck would have communicated his meaning just fine. "Bloody hell," Price arched against the hard line of Nik's body, fists shaking. "Yeah. Fuck. Wait..." He shoved Nik away, just a fraction, but held onto his shirt with the same desperation. Caught in the conflict between what he wanted and another part of him that had been wounded once before. "I'm not your three a.m. shag, Nik. We clear? I don't do that. If this is--if this is what this is, then no, look at me, you hear?"

Nik let out a burst of a chuckle, eyes soft as he met Price's gaze. "John, you are and always will be my everything." He was drunk enough to struggle around the 'J' in Price's name, defaulting the zsho- inflection, but his eyes were clear as he said it.

"Fuck," Price responded, eyes wide, and Nik kissed him again, slower this time. When he stopped, Price was shaking.

"And you?" Nik breathed into his lips.

"Not here, not... I can't hear myself fucking think."

"Then home." Nik pulled him from the wall and soon they were navigating the corridors crowded with drunks and staff into the night. The cool air bristled over Price's skin, but it did little to cool the heat in his body, barely able to keep his hands off of Nik when they fell into the back of the cab. Nik sat contentedly, the backs of his fingers stroking up and down Price's forearm as he watched the city speed by.

Price's hands shook as he shoved the key in the door of his flat, and he turned just in time to be crowded across the threshold by Nik's chest. The door slammed shut and they tumbled onto the beaten up old sofa padded out with a spare duvet and pillow. Nik tore into Price's clothes remorselessly, thirty-ish quids worth of buttons skittered under Price's coffee table as the shirt was k.i.a. It didn't matter, because the feeling of Nik devouring his chest, scrubbing his stubble into sweat, hair and cologne with a deep, guttural groan, was worth every shirt Price owned and then some.

They fumbled and wrestled out of their clothes in search of skin. Nik worked his way down Price's body, wrenching his jeans and boxers over his thighs to lick a long stripe up the hard line of his prick before swallowing it in one. A strangled noise broke from Price's chest as he buried a fist in Nik's hair; the responding moan that vibrated in Nik's throat sent pleasure licking up Price's spine like tongues of flame. Nik kept him teetering on the brink, pulling away with a soft pop to work his way back up Price's body and squirm out of the baggy cargo shorts far enough to free his own cock. He took them both in one big hand and rutted forward, grabbing at the arm of the sofa behind Price's head for purchase.

Slicked by their precum and Nik's saliva, Nik fucked them both into his palm with enough pace and force to make the old sofa creak. He leaned down to kiss the moans and whimpers from Price's mouth in between growled pants of want, slipping in and out of Russian, English and some of the other eight languages he knew, like his brain had short-circuited and was spinning out. Fuckin' hot, is what it was. One of Price's hands joined Nik's, if only to feel the silky iron of his prick against another part of him. He squeezed tighter as his pleasure crested, balls pulling tight, and spilled between them.

Nik practically fucking purred with delight, thrusting against Price's spent cock until he grunted in discomfort before pulling away. No fucking way Price was letting him keep the upper hand; he snagged Nik's shorts and used them to yank him up until Nik's cum-slick cock hung over his face. His palm gripping one plentiful arse cheek, he sucked Nik into the back of his mouth, encouraging him to thrust in with a firm squeeze and low growl.

If Price had thought Nik had been loud before, the act of fucking Price's face had unearthed a whole new vocal range. Nik moaned, growled and panted like an animal, fisting Price's hair as his balls settled against the bristles on Price's chin. Price's throat spasmed, his chest ached, his damn eyes watered, but fuck he wanted Nik buried in him forever. His fingernails bit into the flesh of his arse, his spent cock flicking with interest across his belly, as Nik staked his claim. It took only a handful of deep thrusts before Nik hit his peak, buried to the hilt and spilling down Price's throat with a euphoric shout.

His grip loosened in Price's hair and he withdrew slowly, cock still twitching as it drew over Price's tongue. He replaced his prick with his mouth, kissing the taste of himself on Price's swollen lips with a bone deep moan, before lapping at the tear tracks on Price's cheeks.

At some point, Nik must have moved them to the bed, because Price resurfaced from his haze with his face on a thick, furry chest and a strong arm around his shoulders, the bedsheets draped up to their waist. Nik traced vague circles on Price's bicep, half lidded eyes unfocused as they stared at the ceiling. "I meant it," Nik said, clearly sensing Price's return from his post-fuck delirium. "Everything I said."

Price swallowed hard. How did you respond to that? Nothing in his life so far had prepared him for Nik's devotion. "I know," he murmured. "I... Me too. For a long time."

Nik shifted, rolling Price onto his back so he could look down into his eyes. "Then we make it work."

"Nik... Our lives, we... Shit could go upside down real bloody quick."

A finger pressed over his lips. "I specialise in upside down, captain."

"You just put your prick in my throat and you're still going with captain."

Nik shrugged, lopsided grin slipping back into place. "It is hot. Maybe I will fuck you in your uniform next time, hm?"

"Presumptuous, Nik..."

"Maybe over your desk." Nik sank down to kiss Price's neck.

"Cleaning lady would have somethin' to say about that."

"She is not invited. I do not share." A nip against his throat, and Price arched into Nik's chest.

"Fuck, okay... Mate, you're rabid."

"Hm, only for you."

Fuck. Only for you. Price closed his eyes as Nik's hand slid beneath the blanket. Yeah, fine, they could make this work. They could have this. They deserved it, this one thing, and fuck did Price want it bad.

#captain john price #cod nikolai #call of duty #cod #pricenik #nikprice

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concentrateandpush · 9 months ago

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I wouldn’t have left the house past 39 weeks if I didn’t need to, but my Grandfathers funeral wasn’t one I was willing to compromise on. We have the hospital bag in the car, but have agreed to get in the funeral car with my family to ride over to the parlour. Which I’m already uneasy about.

It’s a rough day already, but Mom is fussing over the flowers and my Grandma is worrying that family members from overseas won’t make it, my aunt, as usual is just sat there and there’s so many things to get ready.

“I’ve got that” I sigh as I go and help my Grandma with all of her things to take “it’ll be okay, you know, I know it’s not what you want to hear but he was 98 and is resting happily now” I say as I take her into my arms, rubbing her back “I’ve got you” I whisper. “You shouldn’t even be here, you’ve got enough happening.. I don’t want to rely on you to do anything” she tears up. “I want to do whatever I can” I assure her before heading off with her bag.

“Ready?” I sigh as we head out to the car. Luckily, my wife and I have a whole area on the back row and I look at her with a sigh “I don’t know why I agreed to the obituary” I say as I rub my bump in small circles. “You’ll be amazing, you always are” she smiles.

The journey is short and sweet but as we get to the roundabout, there’s a fuss from up front. “Wo-woahhh!” The driver shouts before we all get jolted back, jerking our bodies forward as the seatbelts pull us back. My heart jumps into my throat as I feel my body being tugged and thrown. “Baby!” My wife shouts as she turns to me, checking straight away on my facial expression. “I-I’m fine, I’m fine, are you?” I ask and she nods “I’m okay.. baby okay?” She asks and I rub softly feeling a little kick and I nod “baby’s fine”.

“Everyone okay?” The driver asks and everyone is fine, but when he gets out, he sees that all of the bonnet is crushed. “Okay, I need to order a taxi for all of you, on us obviously” he sighs heading off to call them and I look at my phone checking the time “we have twenty minutes”. “It’s a ten minute walk, can we just get there? Madge?” My wife asks my Nan and she nods but I feel the heaviness in my body grow. “Baby, I don’t know” I say quietly and she nods “okay, let’s see the taxi times”.

“They won’t be here for another twenty” he explains. I just get out of the car and start walking, knowing we have no choice. “Lena!” my wife, Blair calls and I look back “come on” I sigh.

The walk is quick but painful and I feel movements in places I haven’t felt them before. We get there with a few minutes spare and I find the nearest bench, sitting straight away and putting my hair up. “I like your hair down” Gran sighs and I shake my head “too hot” I mutter. “Baby, do you need water? Anything?” Blair asks and I just shake my head. “Back rubs” I say softly letting her give me some love.

“Family?” The director addresses and I look to Blair “I need a minute, you go in..” I sigh and know I have to go in. “Come on I’ve got you” she says holding her hand out. I stand up and as I do I feel my inner thighs warm up under my dress. “My waters” I mutter, grabbing the bench “My waters just broke” I whisper and they are met with so much pain in my back, I find myself bent over the bench taking long deep breaths.

“Not now baby, not now” I whisper. “Lena! Blair! Come on” Gran demands and I look to Blair pleading for help. “Right, let’s get you in there, I know you’d kill me if I let you leave” she sighs as she supports my back, guiding me in.

We are the champions by queen plays on the speakers as I walk towards the front row, passing people who notice the flushed colour of my skin and sweat droplets on my forehead. “Let me help” Blair whispers as we get to the seats and it’s a good thing she helps because I couldn’t have got down on my own.

The service is nice and luckily, the contractions are slow and I’m able to breathe quietly through them, but one hits so hard that all I feel I can do is open my legs a little and cry so I can let some frustration out, normal in a funeral I guess. “And Lena has some words to say..” the director announces. Shit.

I fumble up to the top, standing in front of the room filled with hundreds of friends, family and acquaintances of my Grandfather. Clearing my throat as I open the paper I start to talk. “My Grandfather would be over the moon with the turn out, he always said that-“ I start well but the pain comes over me like a wave. “He said that-“ I start and find my hands gripping the stand. “He-“ I mutter before I just buckle, my knees give out and I find myself being caught by the director as he lowers me to the ground.

“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here” my wife announces as she gets to the front. The pain is making me pant uncontrollably and I’m not keeping it a secret anymore. “Do the speech” I mutter to her and she shakes her head “do it, please” I cry as I lean against a wall, panting and shaking.

She stands and delivers, better than I probably would have. Everyone is distracted anyway, by me, legs parted, sweating and panting, slightly covered by the coffin. The final music starts and I look up, seeing people leave, trying to catch a glance of what I’m doing. “I’m here, I’m here” she states as she comes to my attention. “I’ve called an ambulance” a member of staff announces and I just shake my head “there’s no time”.

“It’s okay, I’ve had 3, she’s had 2” the staff member says as she comes over. “Towels, water and scissors” she demands of the director and I look to my wife, tears in my eyes “thank you for doing that” I smile and she laughs, rubbing my belly and taking my underwear off. “Come on, let’s have a baby” she smiles.

“Shit, you’re.. like, open” she whispers as she gazes between my legs. “I know” I say as I grab my thigh, panting in and out. “Can I push?” I ask softly and she looks to the women “yes, you absolutely can” one of them laughs. “O-okay” I mumble as I scrunch my face up, taking a breath and baring down for the first time ever. “Nnnnggg” I groan quietly, feeling movement but no spreading.

“Okay, like you’re doing a poo” the woman smiles and I look to Blair grabbing her hand and squeezing “nngaahahh!” I cry out, taking some quick rounded breaths after letting it out. “Pick her leg up” one of the women demand to my wife and I shake my head “I need her” I moan and the other woman takes a leg, pushing back.

“Mmmphhh” I cry out “I can’t fucking do it” I cry and my wife smiles “You! Are Lena fucking Lovell, you can do anything” she laughs.

“Gaaaaah!” I cry, feeling myself split. “Am I tearing?” I ask and the woman between my legs shakes her head “I’m Mel” she laughs and I nod “thank you Mel” I smile before baring down again “ccccaaaaah!” I screech “that’s it, harder sweetheart, you’re doing it” she smiles and I shake my head before pulling my other leg back and giving everything I’ve got “GAAAHHH!” I cry out feeling a pop “fuck” I moan, trying to catch my breath.

“Heads here” she smiles “again” she demands and I shake my head “I need a break”. “You’re doing amazingly baby, you’re so beautiful” Blair smiles lovingly and I laugh, wiping my head. “I love you” I whisper and she smiles “I love you too”.

I find myself getting up onto my knees, leaning forward “sorry” I mumble and the woman smiles “you’re in control” she says softly.

“Fuck.. fu-UUHHH” I cry out, feeling the shoulders stretch me out “ohhhh, oh god” I moan, reading down “come on baby, come out” I whisper as I tug a little. “Come on, work with mommy” I whisper. “Baby, you catch” I instruct Blair as I hold on to the stand. “Ready?” I whisper before letting out a huge scream “aahhhhhhh!” I howl as I feel the baby leave my body and splash into my loves arms, followed by the sweetest cries.

“Oh my god..” she whispers “you did it” I hear her sob before the two women help me on to my back a little propped up. “It’s a boy” Blair grins, handing him to me “a boy” I grin, taking him into my arms “oh your great grandfather would love you” I smile. “Trevor?” My wife smiles, my grandfathers name. “Trevor?” I whisper to baby as I kiss Blair softly.

#childbirth #giving birth #birth #maiesiophilia #pregnancy #birthstory #pregnancystory #pushing #pregnant #birthing #birth kink #pregnancy kink #labor kink #crowning kink

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moonshynecybin · 8 months ago

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short fic! once again maïna got me.... her original post here, this one's like 800 words about marc hitching a ride from vale back to the pits... nebulously established relationship they are being very sweet !

“Are you trying to kill me?” Is what Vale says when Marc trots up to where he’s spectating on the side of the track, camped out like a king in some shady place where the crowds can’t get to him. He’s on his feet, hands on his hips and a frown on his face beneath his hat and sunglasses, staring Marc down as he approaches. He’s worried—he usually is, when Marc’s on the bike— but the crash wasn’t terrible, just a slide into the gravel. He shouldn’t be too mad.

Marc brushes some dust off of the ass of his leathers. The marshals are bustling around them, righting his bike and wheeling it past him and Vale. There’s no sense of urgency though, it’s too late in the session— that’s FP1 done for Marc, now he just needs to get back to the pits. Luckily, he knows a guy.

He flicks a gloved finger at Vale’s cheek, and Vale catches it, brings it to his mouth to kiss his hand, sweet and playful, a moment of connection just for them, letting Marc know he’s not actually mad. Marc can’t help but grin under his helmet.

“I’m okay.” He reassures, keeping his voice low, tilting his head a little. “I saw how lonely you were out here and just wanted to say hi.” He’s joking, but if he had to pick a place to crash, next to Vale isn’t the worst place in the world.

“Not funny,” Vale lets go of his hand to wave a finger in his face, eyebrows jumping, and Marc laughs, big and loud.

“No, it isn’t. I wanted P1.” It’s a bad joke— most of his are— but Vale smiles at him anyway, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses.

“P2 for you, I think, if you’re done trying to kill yourself.” Vale gestures at the scooter behind him. “You need a lift?

“You offering?”

“I mean you can walk, but that would be less fun for both of us, I think.” Vale says, swinging a leg over the scooter and rummaging for the keys.

“The Valentino Rossi taxi service.” Marc says, climbing onto the back as Vale buckles on his helmet. He leans forward until the enamel of their helmets makes contact, an affectionate bump. He decides to settle his hands on the familiar, narrow space of Vale’s hips, glove catching on the fabric of his shirt.

“For you? I charge double.”

“I can afford it, my husband’s rich.” Marc says, and is rewarded with a bark of a laugh from Valentino and an affectionate slap to his thigh as the ignition catches and they start to move.

Vale pulls away from the track and starts to maneuver towards the pits, scooter rumbling along. Marc closes his eyes, enjoying the ride and the solid weight of Vale in front of him, the way he can lean on him a little, torsos pressed tight. It’s not often he can loosen his control during a race weekend, and it’s nice to not have to focus for a few minutes— to let Vale unwind Marc in that way only he knows how. They don’t get too much alone time on days like these, and Marc lets himself get warm— basking between the sun on his back and the stretch of Valentino in front of him.

It’s over too soon.

“Thanks for the ride,” He says, when Vale slows to a stop in front of Honda’s pit area. He pulls of his helmet.

“Yeah— you be safe, eh?” Vale says, catching Marc’s elbow when he clambers off the scooter. Vale lifts a hand to thumb at Marc’s cheek, and Marc has to lean down to kiss him, soft and sweet, lingering. It’s not the best time for it —he has to get back to his box, there are probably thousands of cameras pointed at them right now, and he has about eight different ideas for the bike setup to iron out with Santi— but right now he doesn’t care. He kisses Vale again, hand on the column of his neck.

“I love you,” He says when he pulls back— he really does have things to do. He grabs his helmet and starts to move away. Vale smacks him on the ass as he goes.

“If you crash again, I will not drive you back next time!” Vale calls as Marc winds his way towards the Honda garage.

“Yes, you will!” Marc calls back, not even turning around. He’s grinning as he ducks around the corner.

And it’s true. It’s something he knows for certain— knowledge that’s sewed itself into his bones— as factual and immutable as the sky being blue, as the sun rising in the morning. If he falls, Vale will be there to catch him.

It’s as simple as that.

#motogp #callie speaks #rosquez #my fic #QUESTION: is the use of ‘give you a ride?’ very american here bc i know i irish people made fun of me for that

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phantom-dc · 2 years ago

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A deal with the Ghost King

Part1 previous next AO3

Batman arrived at the cemetery. The unnatural lights had originated above this area, confirming his theory they were caused by the Ghost King. Constantine was trying to track where it had gone, but without succes. He said Gotham's affinity with the realms beyond made is nearly impossible: 'This whole city is saturated with Death and is under the influence of at least 5 different kinds of curses! We're not going to be able to find the King with magic, B.' Batman grew concerned. Was this why it had appeared here? To hide itself? He needed a different aproach. He needed to find it before the ghost could harm anyone.

WHEEEEEEE!!! Danny was having a great time! Red Hood was driving him through the streets of Gotham. They were going so fast Danny swore they flew! Ok, he had been a little scared at first, but turning them both intangible had fixed that. No need to fear crashing if you cant crash into anything. They arrived at the park, and Hood parked his bike next to a large fountain.

'Thank you for using Red Hood taxi services, we hope you enjoyed the ride!' Danny laughed: 'You know, if my sister found out I went on a date with a bad boy on a bike I'd never hear the end of it!' Jason locked his bike: 'She's worried about you? Guess I'll have to watch my back!' 'Nah, as long as you don't try to posses me you should be good.' Jason smirked: 'Isn't that your M.O., Mr. Ghost?' Laying out the picnick, Danny looked at the city. For a city as gloomy as Gotham, it sure was beatiful from here.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #batman #danny phantom #danny fenton #jason todd #red hood #dp x dc prompt #dead on main #ghost king danny

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 8 months ago

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The Temptation Chapter 1

Summary: Father Barnes is devout, steadfast, and undeterred by flirtatious congregants. So why does this fallen angel tempt him so? You cannot serve two masters. Will he choose God, or his heart? Here's the Priest!Bucky x curvy!reader fic! I hope y'all like it. Warnings: eventual smut; religion (yes it's a warning); mentions of past sexual assault

Next chapter

“Father Barnes, I have some unfortunate news.”

Bucky turned towards his senior priest, Father Richards. “Yes?”

“Constance Y/L/N has just passed away.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed the news. “How sad. I mean, she was getting up there in age but, still, a great loss.”

“Yes, it is. Her funeral arrangements will be handled by her granddaughter, Y/N Y/L/N. She should be landing into town tomorrow, I was hoping you would be willing to pick her up at the airport and bring her to Constance’s home, then schedule a meeting about the arrangements and the service?”

“Of course, Father.”

That’s where Bucky found himself now, waiting in the baggage claim area of the airport with a sign in his hand that had her name written on it. He had no idea what she looked like or knew anything about her. As he looked around, waiting patiently, a woman came through the door that made him do a double take. She was beautiful, short and curvy, dressed in a long black dress that she kept stepping on, covered by an oversized, long, black and ripped sweatshirt that read “WOMEN RUN SHIT” in red embroidery, Converse sneakers that peeked from under her dress, with long pointy nails and her pink hair piled atop her head, held up by a black scarf. She had very little makeup on except for a dark, blood red lipstick that Bucky couldn’t seem to stop staring at. She looked around until her eyes fell on Bucky, read the sign, and gave him a polite smile as she headed towards him. Bucky gave her a polite smile back as he tried to hide the panic he was feeling inside.

“Father Barnes?” Y/N asked as she approached him.

“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That’s me,” she flashed him a full smile, making her teeth look stark against her lipstick.

“Is this all you have?” Bucky asked, looking at the purse and backpack slung over her shoulders and the large rolling suitcase she had.

“Yep, don’t have much. Thank you for the ride. I haven’t been to Brooklyn since I was a kid and I just didn’t wanna deal with the hassle of a taxi or Uber.”

“It’s no problem.”

Bucky tried hard to not stare at her or even look at her too much. He had been a priest at his parish for 15 years, and had never had a moment where he felt like he was being led astray, like he’d always been warned about during his seminary years. He felt secure in his promises and covenants to the church and to God. And yet here was this woman, who just waltzed into his life on a chance, who he was feeling something very strange towards that made him question his life. And he didn’t even know her. Sinful.

“So what do you do for a living?” Bucky tried to break the ice as he drove silently, weaving through the New York traffic as best as he could.

“I’m a traveling photographer,” Y/N said as she watched the buildings and bridges fly by.

“Really? That’s interesting. How did you get into that?” he asked.

“Um, it just kinda fell into my lap, I guess,” Y/N answered, giving him a glance. “I grew up in Brooklyn, went to the church and everything with my grandmother, but at 16 I decided it wasn’t for me and went through a bit of a rough patch for a while. Started taking pictures as I went from place to place, posting online, and gained a following. Here I am, 16 years later, getting paid to go places and take pictures and give travel advice.”

“Wow,” Bucky breathed. “Where’s your favorite place you’ve been?

“Well, traveling as a plus sized person has its challenges,” she started, shifting in her seat. “The place that I felt most comfortable was the Leeward Islands, so Bora Bora, Tahiti, those areas of French Polynesia.”

“Very tropical,” Bucky commented.

“Ha, yes,” she giggled. “A big reason why I loved it.” She paused and looked at him. “Have you ever been on a beach like that?”

“No,” Bucky answered. “A beach at a lake when I was a kid, but nothing quite as pretty as crystal blue waters,” he glanced at her, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Hm,” Y/N watched him, a sad expression flitting across her face. “That’s too bad. There’s really nothing like it.” She paused again, a mischievous grin pulling at her lips. “A pretty thing like you on a sandy beach in Bora Bora would do wonders with the locals.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at her compliment. He cleared his throat and swallowed as he tried to relax the blush that filled his cheeks. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Anytime, handsome,” she teased him, huffing out a laugh at his expense.

Bucky wasn’t blind to the fact that he had attractive features. He’d been hit on too many times to count by the women, and some of the men, in his congregation throughout the years. Some tried harder than others, the idea of a forbidden love or lust-driven “corrupting the priest” sounding appealing. He’d been able to squash those easily. He could of course see or recognize when people were attractive, and occasionally had the fleeting thought of “what if?” But it sounded different coming from her for some reason.

“I mean really, if the priests looked like you when I was in church I would have paid more attention.”

She said it in such a deadpan tone that Bucky couldn’t help but to fully laugh. She joined him in laughing as they finally pulled up to her grandmother’s brownstone home. Bucky helped her hoist her large luggage up the stairs. Y/N grabbed the key from the hidden spot that the estate lawyer had told her about and let herself and Bucky in. She wheeled the luggage off to the side as she looked around the foyer.

“Almost exactly the same,” she muttered.

“Y/N–”

“You know, it’s just very strange for me to call you Father,” Y/N interrupted him as she whirled around to face him. “What’s your first name?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, um, it’s James, but I always went by Bucky.”

“Bucky?” Y/N repeated it, looking confused.

Bucky silently reveled in how she said his name. “My middle name is Buchanan, don’t ask me why,” he joked, making her snort. “Bucky for short. I just always went by that rather than James when I was younger.”

“Well is it alright if I call you Bucky?” Y/N asked hopefully.

Bucky really should have said no, that it’s not appropriate for people to call him by his name rather than his title. Yet he found himself saying, “Yes.”

“Great. I’m sorry I interrupted you, what were you going to say?”

“Well, my senior priest, Father Richards and I would like to set up a meeting with you to go over the funeral arrangements. When would you like to do that?”

“Sure, um…” Y/N got distracted by something in the foyer. Bucky followed her eye line to the large cross her grandmother had mounted above the door. She sighed heavily before meeting his gaze. “How about tomorrow? 10 a.m.?”

“That sounds great,” Bucky agreed. “Well, is there anything else I could help you with while I’m here?”

“No, thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Great, see you then.” Bucky turned away and out the door, unable to handle being in such a close space with her anymore.

As he got back into the parish car and drove back to the church he heaved a heavy sigh of his own. This is going to be dangerous.

***

The next morning Bucky found himself taking more time to get ready. He was trimming his beard, redoing his hair in a bun and repeatedly straightening out his Roman collar and his shirt. He knew why he was doing it but was in deep denial.

Father Richards was waiting in the main office as Bucky went out to the sanctuary to see if Y/N had shown up yet. When he walked in he easily found her sitting on one of the pews. Today she wore a long, fluffy cardigan with a sports bra and flowy lounge pants. She wore no makeup and her hair looked like she’d just rolled out of bed.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Bucky greeted her as he approached.

Y/N was staring at the large cross at the front of the sanctuary with the statue of Jesus hanging on it. Her eyes slowly turned to him, a frown on her face that she tried to hide quickly.

“Good morning, Bucky,” she greeted him, her voice sounding scratchy. “I’m sorry I look a mess, the jet lag is making me feel rough.”

“I understand, it’s alright,” Bucky gestured for her to follow him.

He led her back into the hallways of the church until they reached the main priest’s office. Y/N paused for a moment outside the office door as Bucky held it open for her, before she inhaled quickly and stepped through the door.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Father Richards,” Richards held his hand out, which she stiffly shook. “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under more pleasant circumstances. May I offer my deepest condolences to you.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said somberly. She sat on the chair in front of the large wooden desk. Her eyes settled on one scuffed spot on the desk as Father Richards and Bucky sat across from her.

“So, let’s get started,” Father Richards began. “I’m sure you know your grandmother was a big supporter of the church. She gave us some of our largest donations over her lifetime. She had some instructions she left with me but I wanted to make sure everything sounded good to you before I enacted them, or if there was something left in her will that I wasn’t aware of?”

“The will and everything else is stuck in probate court right now,” Y/N answered, her tired eyes trying to focus on him. “So honestly, whatever she told you is fine. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

“I see,” Father Richards said, sounding a little annoyed. Bucky glanced at him.

“Please don’t mistake my indifference for not caring,” Y/N retorted. “I loved my grandmother, I just didn’t love her religion. And that caused a rift between us. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years, so I was pretty surprised when I got a call from a lawyer in New York telling me she’d died and left me everything,” she continued, her words getting more curt by the second. “No offense to either of you but me being here is highly triggering. So is there anything else you need from me?”

“Uh, yes,” Richards tried to recover the conversation, his tone sounding more jovial. “She did ask that you sing at her funeral.”

“Absolutely not,” Y/N spat, her eyes narrowing as she minutely shook her head.

“Oh, well, I mean that’s what she wrote here–”

“No.”

Bucky watched on in concern. He knew the church came with a lot of baggage for some people, that its history was unclean. He worried about what this would mean for them as she worked with them for this funeral.

“Hm, of course you don’t have to, but she always said how you had a lovely singing voice–”

“I said no,” she seethed. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” she stood suddenly, Bucky and Father Richards copying her. “I need to go. Just call me if you need something else.” She rummaged into her cardigan pocket, pulling out a wallet and taking out a business card, flinging it at them on the desk. “Good day.”

She turned on her heel and hightailed it out of the office. Father Richards and Bucky exchanged a bewildered look. “Go,” Father Richards instructed.

Bucky jogged out of the office to catch up to Y/N. “Y/N, please wait!”

Y/N sighed loudly as she turned back around to Bucky. “I’m sorry for my rudeness, I just can’t stay here,” she said, continuing to walk away.

“Hey,” he jogged around her until he faced her. “Obviously there’s some deep problems you have with the church.”

“No shit Sherlock,” she dodged him, heading towards the front doors.

“And I don’t blame you!” Bucky walked alongside her. “There have been bad things that have happened in its history.”

Y/N stopped abruptly as she rounded on him. “To ME!” she pointed a finger towards herself. Bucky stopped, his eyes widening at her. She was shaking as she tried to calm herself. She took a deep breath and a step back from him. “I appreciate that the church has given you comfort, peace, a purpose maybe, but I grew up here,” she paused, stopping herself from crying. “Father Carmine was here before you two, right?” Bucky nodded his head slowly as he watched her. “He hurt me.”

Bucky felt his heart plummet. He had met Father Carmine many years ago as he and Father Richards were transferred in to replace him. He had had an amazing rapport with the community, his congregation seemed to love him. Now Bucky knew the reason for his sudden retirement.

Y/N scoffed. “That notch on the desk? In the office? That’s from the heel of my shoe,” she took a step closer to him as she peered up at him, a fury in her eyes that made him feel like withering on the spot. “My Mary Jane shoes, from my school uniform, when I was 15 years old.” Bucky felt like he was going to throw up as he digested this information. “So you’ll have to excuse me, if coming here to the place where I was abused and then unbelieved by the woman who raised me who I now have to bury, is dredging up some pretty raw emotions in me right now.” Y/N was whispering now, her eyes filling with tears as she glared at him. “Every cross, every Jesus statue, every rosary, every goddamn Roman collar,” her eyes flickered to his neck, “reminds me of that day. So the fact that my grandmother was willing to still hold her funeral here in this godforsaken place, and then have the audacity to throw her money at me and ask me to sing?” Y/N shivered violently as she grunted. “I can’t…”

Bucky didn’t know what to do as he watched her fight off an oncoming panic attack. “Y/N, hey…look,” he started to take off his Roman collar. She watched him hesitantly. “See? Look, just me. Not Father Barnes, not Father anything, just Bucky.” He held his hands up towards her in a sign of meaning no harm. “Constance was extremely devout, for sure,” Y/N scoffed again, rolling her eyes. “But that was no excuse for her not to believe you,” he took a step forward. Y/N’s eyes narrowed at him. “You deserved to be believed. You deserved justice, and you never got it. I’m so sorry,” he took another step until he could reach out and hold her arms. He lowered his face so he was eye level with her. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you. You didn’t deserve it, no one deserves that.” Y/N’s tears finally fell as she shook in his hands. “And I’m sorry for Father Richards pushing you, he’s a very…no nonsense, regimented kind of guy. But he should have taken your refusal the first time.” He squeezed her arms and she took a shaky breath. “We’ll follow her instructions, get through the funeral, and then you can be done with this place. And go enjoy a long vacation on a beach in Bora Bora for me.”

Y/N laughed at that, her smile finally breaking the sadness etched in her face. She wiped her eyes as Bucky dropped his hands from her. He felt like his palms were stinging from the sensation of touching her. “Thank you, Bucky,” she sniffed.

“No problem,” he smiled at her. “I know this isn’t a great place for you, but I hope you know that I believe you, and I’m here for you.”

Y/N gave him a long look, her eyes roaming his face momentarily. She nodded and turned to leave, then suddenly turned back around and walked up to him. She wound her arms around his waist and gave him a hug, squeezing him. He barely had a chance to hug her back before she stepped away and walked out of the front doors. Bucky watched her leave, already missing the way she smelled.

***

A week later the funeral was held. Constance had quite the turnout for her service. Since she had no other family other than Y/N she had made connections with almost everyone in the congregation, and with her large donations throughout her life to that parish specifically the church was willing to go all out for her. Y/N had let the two priests handle everything, only coming back one day before the funeral to go over the itinerary for the day before swiftly leaving.

Bucky gave a short portion of the service and then sat down next to Y/N as Father Richards finished the rest. She was in all black: a long sleeved, boat-neck dress that reached the floor, with black lace gloves and a black lace veil on her head, holding Constance’s rosary. Her face was devoid of emotion as she looked down at the floor. When it was time for a song Y/N squirmed in her seat, wrinkling the program in her hand. Bucky reached out and held her hand, which seemed to help her ground herself. She didn’t look at him, but gave his hand a small squeeze of appreciation.

When the time came for people to walk to the casket for one last viewing, many people placed roses and other flowers on top of the closed part of the lid, then walked over to Y/N and shook her hand, offering their condolences. Bucky stood by her. Whenever someone tried to bring something up to her about her inheritance from her grandmother or some kind of favor that was once promised he helped to move the line along. Constance was finally buried in the church’s courtyard, which really wasn’t something that was done anymore, but since she had been a huge donor her request was granted to be buried there. After people were leaving and Bucky was bidding farewell he suddenly couldn’t find Y/N. One second she stood next to the grave, the next she was gone. He looked around then went inside. He searched the halls, the offices, and then entered the sanctuary. She was standing at the front next to the prayer candles.

“There you are, I thought I’d lost you,” Bucky huffed a laugh. “Everything is finished. You are free.”

“I’m not,” Y/N sighed. She held up Constance’s rosary in her hand, admiring the glass beads and the gold. It was an expensive rosary that most people would not be able to afford.

“What do you mean?” he asked as he walked up behind her.

“The estate,” she answered simply. “The lawyer called me yesterday. He said that there’s some donations she had written in her will for the church, so I won’t be rid of this until that’s settled. Which could take months.” Her fingers gripped the rosary tightly.

“Oh, I’m…I’m sorry, Y/N,” Bucky mumbled.

“It’s fine,” she waved him off as she faced him. “Thank you for all your help today. And if you could pass along a thanks to Father Richards I would appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he promised, giving her a quick smile.

She sighed again, giving the cross with Jesus on it another glance. “You know what? Here,” she reached for his hand then plopped the expensive rosary into his palm. “It’s no use to me.”

“Y/N, this is…it’s very nice, I can’t take it,” Bucky sputtered as he stared at the rosary.

“Yes you can. I don’t want it, and who else would get more use out of a rosary than a priest?” she gave him a smirk. “I’m going to go get drunk and find someone to fuck. Tell Jesus I said hi when you pray for me.” She winked then swayed her hips as she walked down the aisle and out the doors.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open as she left, his hand almost dropping the rosary. He felt a stirring below his belt that made him blush and give the Jesus statue a sheepish look. She’s gonna be the death of me.

**picture if from Pinterest, it's A.I. so there's no "artist" or "creator"**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #priest!bucky barnes x reader #priest!bucky barnes #chapter 1 #curvy reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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