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writingreadinglurkingandsmirking · 1 year ago

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Hold Me Down (Is This A New Start?) - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After a long, hard day of work you just want to go home and go to bed. But, when you get a persistent knock on your door from Rafe fucking Cameron. you know you’re gonna have a long night ahead. Letting him in, after two months of not seeing him, you fully anticipated a screaming match. But, you got something much different than you bargained for—much better too.

CW/TWs: brief angst, brief mentions of Rafe being on house arrest lol, feminine pronouns used, gorgeous/sweet girl/baby/darlin' as nicknames, toxic behavior, canon-adjacent Rafe, mean-ish Rafe, smut, piv sex, oral sex (male receiving), impact play, (not really) lowkey daddy kink, brat reader, dumbification, degradation kink, praise kink, overstimulation, breath play, unprotected sex (be safe I am nawt your mom gn), allusions to a pain kink for sure, mushy gushy sweet ending, not highly edited or reviewed

Words: 8.1k+

Note: 18+ MDNI, really just fucking don’t. I wrote this one in first person because writing in second person irritates my very soul. Uhhhh so this kinda came out of left field and I did nawt plan on writing this but here we are! But such is life! Anyways…back to regularly scheduled programming.

It had been a long day - too long. There was something exceedingly exhausting about living paycheck to paycheck that the average person didn’t understand. There was nothing quite as specific as the exhaustion that you encountered by overworking yourself day after day, week after week, month after month, all for nothing. Because that’s what this all amounted to. Nothing. Nothing extra at the end of the week to take home, nothing to do anything nice with. Just nothing. And nothing sucked the joy out of your day like knowing you’d have to get up the next day and do it all over again.

When I’d finally gotten home from a shift that didn’t end until almost the crack of fucking dawn - a good twelve hours after I was supposed to have gotten off shift - there was not a thing I wanted more than to sleep. Still, even as I sat on my fucking couch, my woes could not end. There was a loud, demanding knock on the door.

The first time I ignored it.

The second time I ignored it.

The third time, an annoyed voice accompanied the knock.

“Baby, open the fucking door,” came the snarl from the other side. I groaned and ran my hands down my face. I really didn’t want to deal with Rafe today. Not like that had ever deterred him before. “Baby, come on. Listen. Please. The cops are fucking trolling around outside. Baby, please open the door.”

I groaned and pulled myself to my feet, opening the apartment door. Standing there, looking at pitiful as ever was Rafe fucking Cameron. The bane of my existence. My more-or-less on-again-off-again boyfriend—though I’d sooner bash my head against the door than admit that. I glared at the ass who had done nothing but make my life harder since he’d entered it. Then, I stepped to the side and let him in. He stepped in and closed the door quickly, locking it behind him. He turned to me and pressed an absent-minded kiss to my forehead before going to sit down on the couch.

“You look like shit, darlin’,” he said. When he even had the decency to look up and notice I was there.

“Thanks,” I said dryly. I looked down at his leg. His ankle monitor looked fucked. “What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Just a little mod,” he said casually. “I needed to get out for a minute.”

“Why did you come here?” I demanded. “Did you stash more fucking coke in my house I swear to fucking God I will kill you. I am not catching a fucking charge for you, asshole.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I leave my coke with you knowing that you’d throw it out, baby? That’s just bad business. Besides, darlin’ the cops aren’t outside for me some loser is probably getting caught selling a few doors down again. And hey? It’s a crime to want to see you now, darlin’?” he asked, winking.

“No. But it is a crime to skip out on house arrest, Rafe,” I said blandly. “And I know damn well that you’re not here because you want to see me. I’m just convenient to you like fucking always.”

He rolled his eyes as if I were being the dramatic one. “What’s wrong now, gorgeous?” he drawled. “Always seems like there’s something these days, hmm?”

I clenched my jaw. “Fuck you, Rafe. Get the hell out,” I snapped.

Rafe frowned. Stood again and walked over to me. He placed his hands on my hips, refusing to leave. I, in turn, refused to look at him. “Look at me, darlin’,” he demanded. Reluctantly I did. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer. He brushed my hair back from my face and just kept looking at me. “Come on, sweet girl. Tell me…what’s wrong.” He smiled to himself when I still didn’t answer. “You know better than anyone I’m not going to leave until you tell me, baby…so come on…what’s wrong with my sweet girl?”

“Fuck you,” I repeated weakly, pulling out of his arms. I plopped down on my couch, curling into myself and closing my eyes. “Just fucking leave when you see the cops are gone. I can’t be bothered today.” The asshole had the audacity to laugh at my words. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”

Dramatically, Rafe sighed and knelt down on the ground in front of me. I felt him grab my knees and pull me to face him. I had no choice but to unfurl, otherwise, I would’ve fallen into him, which I had no interest in doing. So, I leaned back into the couch, trying to ignore the heat of his hand sinking into my cold legs through worn jeans. It was hard to ignore that. Hard to ignore any of him, really. And he knew that. That’s why he only waited through my stubborn silence for a few minutes.

“Come on, baby,” he hummed. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m sorry I’m a dick, darlin’…you know I care.”

I laughed weakly, eyes still closed. “No. No, you don’t,” I said flatly.

He ignored my words and kept rubbing my legs. “It’s so fucking cold in here, baby,” he commented. “And your legs are freezing. Your heat not working?”

“No, it's working. It’s just too fucking expensive to heat this shitty goddamn apartment and I’m not forking over more money to the cunt landlord,” I said sharply, glaring at him. “Did you suddenly forget what life is like if—” I cut myself off, shaking my head.

He had the audacity to glare back if you could believe it. Then, he slapped my inner thigh. “I told you to call me if you needed help,” he hissed. He slapped my other thigh. “The fuck are you doing? What game are you playing at, baby?”

I pushed him away from me with my foot. “A game where I don’t need to rely on a man who is a fucking wannabe felon,” I snapped.

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Newsflash, baby, you do need me,” he said, sounding way too smug about it.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I need a bullet to the brain more than I need you,” I sneered.

“That’s cute.” He continued on like I didn’t even speak in the first place. “I could give you that, if you want. But that doesn’t change anything about it, darlin’. You need my money, you need my cock, you need my love. You’ve said it yourself that no one gives it to you as good as I do. And I know you haven’t been looking which means you’re still as invested in this as I am. So.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “When I tell you if you need my fucking money to heat your stupid apartment because your ass is too stubborn to move in with me…then you fucking call me.”

“You are not my fucking father,” I snapped, pulling out of his tough.. “Like I said. Bullet to the fucking brain before this shit anymore. I’m sick of it.”

“I don’t know. You do call me daddy a lot,” he mocked. He smiled down at me, but there was hardly any warmth to it. “But, oh? You’re so sick of it, hmm? You want to be brainless?” He laughed. “Well, I can make you brainless without having to put a hole in your pretty little head.” He wound his hand tightly in my hair, pulling my face towards his while I sharply inhaled. “And you’ll remember exactly why you’re not done with me, gorgeous.”

I glared at him. “I haven’t seen you in two months. The last time I did see you, you called me a stupid, worthless cunt and told me that you never wanted to see me again. And you think you can just show up here and get me to listen to you?” I demanded. I felt my face heating with my frustration. “Just like that? You think you’re…you think you’re worth me listening to?” I laughed. “Like I said. Fuck you, Rafe. I deserve…I deserve so much better than this. Than you.”

There was a mocking pout on his face. He reached out and grabbed my face again, squeezing my chin. “You think you’re going to find someone better than me?” he asked incredulously. He let out a laugh. “And where do you think you’ll find someone like that?” I didn’t answer. I refused to give him the satisfaction. He chuckled, but then his face went serious. “I’m sorry that I haven’t seen you in months, darlin’. I’m sorry that I said I never wanted to see you again. I was pissed, sweet girl. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh you never mean it,” I said, the sarcasm’s impact dampened by the tearful sound of my voice.

He moved his hand from my chin to cup my face. I hated myself for it, but I did lean into the touch. “Come on, sweet girl…don’t be like that, baby,” he said. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss to the side of my neck. “You know that I love you.” Another kiss, followed by a short nip. “I’ve been busy, darlin’. That’s all. I’m sorry. I should’ve called, sweet girl. I know that. I’m not mad.”

“You were mad,” I accused, glaring at him.

“I was mad, baby,” he said, deceptively calm. “I was…frustrated that you wouldn’t let me take care of you. I just want what’s best for you. But I’m not mad anymore.”

“Well maybe I’m mad at you,” I retorted, harshness still lessened by the teary voice and the way I leaned into him.

“That’s okay,” he practically cooed. He pressed another kiss to my neck then moved so we were face to face, just a breath between us. He smirked, eyes drifting down to my lips and then back up. “You can be mad at me as long as you want, sweet girl. Just as long as you tell me that you love me.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “No,” I said stubbornly.

“Come on, sweet girl, please,” Rafe purred, stroking my neck with his hand lazily. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you,” I said, voice breaking. My eyes popped open and I felt the tears in them.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t waver, but his eyes did soften. He let out a hum and wiped a tear that slipped. “There’s my sweet girl,” he cooed. He leaned forward and pressed a long, languid kiss to my lips. “Let me make it up to you, baby.” Another long kiss—lazier this time. “Let me apologize for calling you names, baby.” Another kiss. “Remind you that you’re my special, sweet girl.”

I huffed. “Oh so you wanna fuck me and suddenly I’m not a stupid, worthless cunt then?” I spat, voice dripping insecurity.

Rafe rolled his eyes so hard I was shocked that his eyes didn’t stick in the back of his head. “You’re not a stupid, worthless cunt. You’re my sweet girl and you know it,” he drawled. “I was a little fucking high when I said that. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

I gave him a withering glare. “Oh and you’re not high now?” I asked even though I could already tell he wasn’t. He gave me a flat look and I deflated, leaning back, covering my face as I leaned against the arm of the couch. I sniffled. “Okay, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean it.”

He chuckled dryly and rubbed my leg gently. “It’d be fair if you did,” he drawled. He squeezed my leg. “And it’s fine that it’s not fair, sweet girl. I wasn’t fair. So.” He grabbed my legs and lowered them both to the floor. He gently pried my legs open leaning further into my space, hands dancing up both my thighs now. “How about I be real nice and make it up to you?”

“No,” I said stubbornly, glaring half-heartedly down at him. I felt his hand toy with the waist of my jeans, dancing just over the button. “I don’t want you to.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, unconvinced considering I’d begun to lean into his space more, opening my legs to give him more space to occupy, more space to get closer. “Oh?” he posed, tone almost mocking. “You don’t want to?”

“No,” I corrected, grabbing his hand, putting it back on my hair to silently prompt him to grab it just as he did before. “I don’t want you to be nice.” I glowered at him .”It’s been two months, Rafe. I need…”

He let out a low chuckle, eyes dark with quickly emerging lust. “Fuck, darlin’, tell me…what do you need?” he asked.

I blinked slowly, still looking right into his eyes, intoxicated by him already from such a short time together. “I need you to take care of me like you always do,” I said quietly.

Immediately, his hand wound tightly through my hair and he rose to his feet, forcing me to tilt my head up. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I looked up at him, my eyes wide and wanting. I bit my lip, eyes trailing slowly down his body, to his belt at my eye level, and then back up. He chuckled again, grinning down at me. He wound his hand a bit tighter in my hair making me let out a squeak as he dragged me just a bit closer to his body.

“You need me to take care of you?” he posed, tone just shy of mocking. “Need me to help turn off that gorgeous fucking brain of yours, baby?” He used his free hand to trail down my cheek, fingers briefly touching my neck and stopping there. “Need me to fuck you stupid, sweet girl?”

Taking a shaky breath, I reached out, hand loosely holding his belt buckle. “Yes,” I said breathlessly.

I reveled in the sudden, sharp sting in my cheek. “Try again,” he warned, voice raspy.

“Yes…please fuck me stupid, daddy,” I said, batting my eyes up at him. “I don’t wanna think anymore.”

“Fuck,” Rafe muttered, his voice raspier still, thick with lust. He chuckled and loosened his hand in my hair before dropping it. He took his shirt off and then knotted a hand back in my hair. “Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of my sweet girl.” He stroked my cheek gently with his free hand before moving it to his belt buckle and undoing it with ease. He then smirked down at me, inclining his head. “Well? Take me out, darlin’.” I glanced down at his open belt but he tutted, tilting my chin back up. “No, baby. Keep your eyes on me.” His request was one that was most easy for me to accommodate considering I felt like I’d die if I looked away from him.

My hands trembled as I reached forward, taking the belt off of him. I was ready to throw it to the side but Rafe held out a hand. Without even questioning it, I placed it in his hand. He then set it to the side and gestured with his head at me to continue. Which, I happily did. I heard him let out a quiet chuckle as I undid the button on his pants and brought down the zipper without breaking eye contact. I almost hastily pulled down the fabric until it sagged the rest of the way down. I raised my eyebrows at Rafe in a silent plea.

“What, baby?” he asked, amused, tightening his grip on my hair. I let out a weak whine and pouted. “What? You gotta tell me what you want, sweet girl. Use your words.”

“I wanna see your cock,” I responded, hooking my hand on the hem of the waistband of his boxers. I tilted my head to the side, jutting my bottom lip out further. “Please, daddy.”

He let out a dark chuckle. “Okay, baby,” he drawled. I hummed, pleased with myself, and looked down, prepared to take his boxers off. But, he tutted, turning my head up with his grip on my hair so I’d meet his eyes again. “Nuh, uh, darlin’. Keep those gorgeous eyes on me still. Don’t you dare even think about looking at my cock yet, baby. Just get it out.”

“But—” I began to complain before being silenced with another warning slap on the cheek making me whine and pull back slightly; not that Rafe let me get very far.

“No but, baby. You listen to me. Be a good girl,” Rafe warned, tone darkening. “You know I want what’s best for you, right, sweet girl?” I nodded through teary eyes, looking back up at him. He cursed under his breath at the sight, tightening and then loosening his hand in my hair once more. “Good girl, baby. Such a good fucking girl. Now, get my cock out. And don’t even look at it.”

I shivered at the order but complied. I reached and used two fingers to gently drag the fabric of the boxers down until they too gave way, falling down past his knees. Using every bit of restraint I had, I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to look at his dick even as it hung directly in front of my face. Rafe hummed, his free hand moving from his side to wrap around himself, pumping lazily. I swallowed, biting my tongue as a reminder to keep my eyes up. A mocking laugh fell from Rafe’s mouth at the sight and I felt my stomach tighten.

“Oh there’s my good girl,” he cooed. “She can finally fucking listen, huh? So proud of you baby. Little slut that you are, I didn't think you’d be able to do it.” I let out a tiny whimper at his words, feeling a growing, heated pit of arousal low in my stomach. I shifted slightly, just barely able to keep my eyes from falling down. He chuckled again and pursed his lips. “How about you take your clothes off for me baby? Then I’ll let you look all you want at your favorite part of me.”

“All my clothes, daddy?” I checked. He nodded. I all but raced myself to do so. I whipped off the shirt I had on with ease and shimmied out of my jeans easily enough. Sitting there in my bra and panties, Rafe told me to stop and so I paused, looking up at him. “Yes, daddy?”

“Nothing, darlin’…just wanna look at you a minute,” he said, eyes dark with lust. “So fucking pretty, baby. God on fucking high, can’t imagine what I did to deserve such a blessing.”

“Stop,” I dismissed, blushing.

“Nah, baby. You’re a fucking twelve-course meal and I plan to have all of ‘em,” he dismissed, stepping closer and grabbing my chin. “And you aren’t gonna say some dumb shit like that again. We clear, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” I murmured, feeling his thumb ghost up to trace my bottom lip. My breath hitched in my throat and he seemed to remember himself.

He pulled away and smirked down at me. “Bra and panties off. Let me see that pretty pussy, darlin’. Been missing it so much while I was gone,” he purred. I shivered at his words but peeled them off, shivering at the cold feeling of the air against my nipples and the cool fabric of the couch against my exposed core, quickly growing wet. “Fuck you’re so pretty. Look at you…all this…just for me.” He came closer again—even more this time—and his hand loosely went around my jaw, jerking my head up. “You are just for me, aren’t you baby?” I nodded immediately. He glared, his voice gruffer. “Words, darlin’. Or I might not be inclined to be too nice to you.”

“Yes, daddy,” I said breathlessly, wide-eyed. “All yours. Just for you.” I felt my heart beating rapidly in anticipation of seeing Rafe smile down at me. “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” he asked, hand still hooked around my jaw.

“Can I look please?” I asked sweetly, pouting up at him.

His lips quirked into a smirk and he narrowed his eyes looking at me, appraising. “I don’t know, baby. You think I should let you?” he asked.

“Please,” I said, pouting. “I just wan’ you. Want to see you. Wanna have you.”

“Awe with my sweet girl saying all that, well how could I say no?” he drawled, removing his hand from my neck to trail back and join the other in my hair. “Go ahead and look, darlin’. Take as long as you’d like.”

Ever so slowly, I broke my eye contact with Rafe, trailing my gaze down to his dick. Rafe’s confidence even as he stood bare as the day he was born was one of the things that had initially attracted me to him. But, looking at him now, lazily pumping his hand over his cock while he smirked down at me? I don’t think that I’d ever been quite so down bad for him. Which was…concerning, maybe? Pathetic, perhaps? But I didn’t care. At that moment, with his long, thick dick just hovering right in front of me, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him. Of how long I’d wanted him…of how long I’d waited.

“What? I don’t even gotta fuck you to turn that pretty brain off anymore?” he said, voice an alluring growl as he let out a dark sort of chuckle. “Got you so trained to take my dick you don’t even try to fight it, do you sweet girl?”

I shifted at his words, suddenly feeling my core flutter at his words, clenching regrettably—miserably—around nothing. His smirk increased tenfold at that and he stepped closer so that there was practically no space between us, not that there had been much before. Now, his cock stood proudly just next to my face. Again, ever so slowly I raised my eyes to meet his again. And the desperation must’ve been clear in my gaze if the smug, self-satisfied look in his were anything to go by.

“And this was supposed to be for you,” he hummed. “My dumb little baby won’t be able to think for herself and tell me what she wants when I get started, will she?” I let out a pathetic little whimper. “You just need something in that sweet little pussy and your perfect mouth, huh?” His eyes trailed down to my lips, briefly displaying the heated desire he was feeling before moving to meet mine again. “Tell me one thing, darlin’, okay? Think your cute lil’ brain can take that?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, voice coming out breathy. I squirmed slightly, squeezing my thighs together to avoid doing something like grinding on the couch and making him stop this before it even started.

“I don’t have too much patience before I gotta get in that tight fucking cunt, gorgeous,” he drawled. “So…tell me. You want me to eat that pretty pussy? Or do you want to choke on my cock?” He grinned, sharp-edged and shark-like. “It’s up to you.” An aborted moan came out of me at his words. The answer for me, right now, at least, was obvious. I glanced down at his dick and then back up. “Nuh uh, darlin’. You tell me which one you want.”

“I want you to fuck my throat,” I whined, looking up at him wide-eyed.

Rafe chuckled, hands tightening in my hair. “I’ll give you a pass on not addressing me properly this once because you said something so sweet, darlin’. But don’t do it again,” he said, half-mocking, half-warning. I nodded eagerly. One hand released my hair. He pat my cheek and then held my jaw tightly between two fingers. “That’s my girl.” The possessiveness dripped off his tone. “Now be good for daddy and open that fucking mouth.”

My mouth fell open without much thought after that. He grinned as I left it open, tongue sticking out just the way he liked it. His thumb pressed down on my tongue, head tilting slightly to the side as he looked at me. I moaned at even that simple feeling, my body practically trembling with want for him. But, for a good few long moments, that’s all he did, slowly pressing his thumb more against my tongue. But, after a few moments, he drew it away, using his free hand to lazily pump his cock—still only half-hard—in his hand. I inhaled shakily, eyes looking at his heavy cock, knowing the weight and feel of it without even touching it.

“Mmm,” Rafe said, letting out a leisurely sigh as he jerked himself off in front of me. “You want my dick, sweet girl?” I nodded eagerly, tongue still shamelessly hanging out of my mouth. “You want me to make you choke on my fucking cock, baby?” Again, I nodded and he groaned. “You’re so fucking sexy, darlin’, fuck.” I watched with rapt attention as a bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip of his dick. I heard Rafe chuckle not a moment later. “Holy shit are you drooling, baby? Fuck, you really want this dick, huh? Well, I don’t wanna leave you wanting.”

Rafe used the hand in my hair to bring my head closer and anchor it in place. His other hand still held his dick that he was bringing towards my awaiting mouth. The second I felt the tip of his dick touch my tongue I groaned in appreciation at finally having something, feeling myself growing wetter and wanting. Already, with him not even having touched me yet, I was a mess. Rafe knew it damn well too. He chuckled, slapping his dick against my tongue making me inhale sharply then let out a tiny little whimper.

“Should I stop teasing you baby?” he said, voice measured, even, and entirely unaffected—as if he were in a business meeting and not getting ready to ruin my throat. “Should I make sure you lose your voice tomorrow now?” I nodded as best I could while ensuring that his dick did not fall from my tongue which just made him let out another low groan. “Alright, then, baby. You asked for it. Time for you to put that fucking mouth to work.”

I barely had the time to inhale before I felt Rafe’s heavy member settling against my tongue. I let out a breathy moan, reflexively hollowing out my cheeks and bobbing my head to take him further into my mouth. I moved my hands to touch him and he slapped them away.

“No fucking hands,” he grunted, pulling my hair so I’d look up at him before pushing me down to the hilt of him, nose settling against his pelvis. He cursed and I felt his dick pulse in my mouth as he looked down at me, eyes dark and wanting. “So fucking pretty when I’m stretching your fucking mouth open, baby. Look at you. So fucking good.” My core fluttered again at his words, clenching and unclenching while I felt myself starting to dampen the couch slightly the wetter I got. “Gonna fuck your throat now, darlin’.”

With the minimal warning issued, he thrust heavily, pulling out of my mouth almost entirely before thrusting entirely back in. I forced myself to breathe through my nose, relaxing before something unfortunate could happen like my gag reflex being triggered. I moaned around him, using my tongue as little as I could find myself able to when he started to consistently, aggressively thrust himself to the back of my throat. I whimpered at the feeling, grinding absent-mindedly against the rough fabric of the couch, letting my tongue trace along the vein on the underside of his dick.

Rafe caught sight of my desperate rutting against the couch and he let out a dark, slightly breathless chuckle without interrupting the pace of his thrusting. “God, look at my desperate fucking baby. What, is daddy not taking care of you fast enough? Fuck,” he grunted. “You wanna grind like a desperate, needy, brainless little toy? I should make you fucking get off of my thigh without me touching you?” My choked whine of displeasure at the threat made him let out another mean sort of laugh. “Don’t worry, darlin’. That’s gonna be for later.” I let out another whine at the promise then. “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you get yourself off on my leg and then I’m gonna eat your pussy so good. Gonna make you cum for me at least five times before I stop. I’ll fucking tie you up if I gotta, gorgeous. Gonna make my sweet girl so overstimulated she’s not gonna think ‘bout anything but my fucking cock…my fucking mouth…my fucking hands.” Each word was punctuated by a pointed thrust down my throat. “As if you think about anything else, my dumb little fuckin’ baby, yeah?”

When he pulled out of my mouth entirely, releasing my hair, I reflexively gasped in a breath of air, eyes wide and watering. I looked up at him. But, Rafe was still non-plussed by how fucked out I already was. He wasn’t even pausing, barely breaking even a bead of sweat across his gorgeous, obscenely perfect body. No, instead, he knelt down in front of me, one hand making its way immediately to my pussy and finding my clit like two ends of a magnet attracting to each other. He let out a low tutting sound, shaking his head at me as I bucked my hips against his hand before I could stop myself.

“So fucking sloppy, pretty girl. Is this all for me?” he asked, his voice both teasing and harsh. “Barely even done anything to you, baby. You’re just that much of a needy little fuckin’ slut for me, huh?” I let out a high-pitched keening noise and he hummed, wrapping his hand around my throat to make me focus on him even as he slipped two thick digits inside of me. “You want me, baby?” His voice was husky, rasping and his alluring eyes were locked intently on me.

“Yes, daddy,” I whined, voice weak around the whining and moans that I couldn’t help but release as he finger fucked me into oblivion. Even with so little direct stimulation, I felt my legs starting to tremble and my stomach starting to tighten, coiling and ready to barrel quickly towards release. Rafe could tell too based on the way my pussy was practically trying to swallow his fingers whole. “Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?” he cooed, pretending like he didn’t already know damn well what I wanted.

“Fuck me,” I begged.

“Oh but you sound so pretty when you’re whining, gorgeous,” he groaned. “And I need you to be nice and fuckin’ ready for me. So I need you to cum for me before I fuck you.” My stomach tightened further just on the edge of sweet, sweet release that I’d been missing the past two months while he was missing on fucking house arrest. “Okay, baby?”

“Okay,” I sobbed, hips trying to buck even as he used his massive hand to direct my hips to keep the rhythm he wanted, the other tightening around the outside of my throat, making my eyes roll.

“Good girl,” he huffed. He paused his speech a moment, his fingers moving even faster, making me choke out a sobbing moan, head falling back until he squeezed my throat again in warning, making me lift my head. He then issued a command. A single word. “Cum.”

And who was I to disobey?

The coil in my stomach exploded into a mirage of light behind my eyes as they rolled back. I felt a slightly shrill shriek erupt from my mouth more than I actually heard myself. And all that I could think of beyond the veil and haze of pleasure was the feeling of Rafe’s hands, his skin so close to me. He supported my body as I slumped against him, both of his hands moving to rest low on my hips.

“Good job, gorgeous. You look so fucking pretty falling apart for me,” he encouraged, his voice an appreciative, warm grumble of affection. His hands ghosted up and down my sides. “You ready for me to fuck you, pretty little thing?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, letting out a long, shaky sigh. I reached out, hands trailing up the planes of his solid chest, leaning my head on him to listen to his steady, calm heartbeat. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Of course, baby,” he said. I could hear the smugness in his voice but I didn’t care. He leaned me back on the couch and moved to get up. I let out a whine of dissatisfaction and grabbed his hand tightly, pulling him back towards me. He looked amused as he raised a brow. “I have to go get a condom, sweet girl.”

“No,” I said stubbornly.

“No?” he asked.

“Have you been fucking bitches on house arrest?” I asked, bottom lip jutting out.

He reached out, pulling my lip down and looking at it in undisguised intrigue. “No,” he admitted.

“Well, then you haven’t worn a condom with me before. So fuck’s sake, Rafe just fuck me,” I demanded.

Rafe’s eyes had a hardened sort of glee to them. His hand moved before I registered it and my head turned as his palm made contact with my cheek. Again, my core clenched around nothing. This time, I bit back the moan that threatened to escape.

“Who?” he warned, sounding all too happy to remind me of my place.

“Fuck me, daddy,” I reiterated, still with an extreme attitude. “Fuck me, don’t pull out cum in me, I don’t care. Just fuck me, daddy.”

“Drop the attitude,” Rafe said, a final warning.

“No,” I spat, knowing exactly where it would get me. You know, right where I wanted.

Instead of slapping me again as I’d first expected, Rafe tilted my head up with just his pointer finger under my chin, his shark-like smile back again. “Do you want to be punished, baby?” he asked, sounding all too eager. I offered no answer. He used his free hand and slapped me, harder this time. I couldn’t bite back the moan this time, or the way that my hand tried to drift between my legs. He caught my wrist easily to stop me. “Answer me or I’m gonna stop. I’ll walk out the fucking door, darlin’.” My bottom lip quivered at the thought, chest heaving. “Do you want a punishment, baby?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” I admitted after another stubborn moment.

“Well why didn’t you say so, darlin’,” he cooed sarcastically.

In a flurry of movement, Rafe sat on the couch and had me over his knee. My bare, soaked cunt made contact with his hard knee and I choked on a moan at that feeling. I barely had time to register the change in position before he landed his first hit on my ass. I yelped at the feeling, reflexively trying to squirm away from the pain, even as I felt a jolt of pleasure at the feeling. Rafe held my hips in place easily with one hand, keeping me firmly on his lap, and used the other to lay a hard slap against my ass, making me yelp again.

“That feel fucking good baby?” he grunted, slapping me again. I didn’t answer, a sharp, hissing inhale coming from my mouth. Another slap. Another whimper. “You should be fucking thanking me for this, darlin’. Disciplining your unruly fucking ass. Making you my good girl.”

“Thank you, daddy. Thank you, thank you. Please,” I whimpered, reflexively trying to squirm once more when his hand made contact with my ass yet again.

“Please, what, sweet girl? Remind you that you’re fucking mine? Oh, I am gonna, darlin’. This is just part of it,” he ground out. I could feel his rock-hard cock pressed against my side and I was torn between wanting it stuffed in my mouth and my pussy. Both thoughts escaped from my mind entirely as he landed another slap against my ass.

“More,” I ground out through clenched teeth, barely able to resist the urge to grind against his thigh and knee with the desperation that I was feeling.

“Needy little slut, you are, huh?” he asked, amused. His hands stopped their cyclical pattern of slapping my ass to rub the abused flesh for a moment. I felt his hand move between my legs more, teasing my entrance with his fingers. Naturally, I opened my legs for him. He chuckled at that. “Can’t wait to be stuffed with me, can you? Already brain dead to everything but me, aren’t you, sweet girl? You’re just my little plaything right now, aren’t you?” I buried my face in the couch and let out a groan, feeling his hand circling my clit again, lazily, not creating enough friction to do anything.

“Daddy, please,” I whined.

“Don’t worry, pretty little thing. I know just what you need to cum again. I decided I need two from you before I fuck this sweet little fucking pussy,” he grunted. With sudden and almost startling accuracy, Rafe slapped me again. This time, his hand made contact not with my ass but with my pussy, the sharp slap making me gasp and jerk from the pain. I let out a half-aborted scream and rocked back into his palm, panting from surprise. He openly laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot how much you liked that, did you, darlin’? Remember that real fucking well? So I’m gonna take care of this pussy just the way I know you need it.” I let out a breathy moan mixed with a cry as he spanked my clit once more. Again and again and again he did it until I felt like I was dripping sweat on my whole body and my pussy was soaked with my juices—the couch too for that matter. “Fuck me, baby, your pussy is so pretty all puffy like this. She’s just crying for me. You want me so bad your poor fucking brain can’t handle it, can it?” I let out a pathetic little whimper, unable to muster much more. “I tell you what, darlin’. You cum from me slapping this pussy and I’ll fuck you til you pass out if that’s what you want. You wanna do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I gasped immediately, hardly even grasping the words just knowing that I wanted the pleasure that had been slowly building to finally reach its fucking crescendo.

“Good girl,” he said before unleashing a series of slaps to my pussy in a pattern that I couldn’t have anticipated if I were in his damn brain myself.

This time, as I tumbled over the edge of pleasure, I wailed, jerking against his hand. I collapsed against Rafe’s leg as the aftershock of the second orgasm washed over me. I gasped for air like I’d been drowning and I felt Rafe’s hand tracing up and down my back lazily. As I caught my breath, he placed a final sharp slap to my pussy making me let out a weak yelp of complaint. Without being too gentle, Rafe maneuvered me off of his lap and over the arm of the couch. He let out an appreciative groan and I lifted my head to look back at him. I was startled to see him lifting the belt. My eyes widened as I felt him wrap it around my wrists, quickly binding me.

“You’re not getting away from me, gorgeous. Not when I finally get to fuck my pussy again. You’re nice and ready for me,” he said, sounding almost absent-minded as he spoke to me. He grunted as he slid into me with a single thrust. When he bottomed out we both let out moans—his low and mine high and keening—and I felt my body shake. “Fuck. When you can feel your legs I’m gonna fuck you so hard in doggy you’re gonna not walk the day after. But right now I just gotta finish the job, baby. Gotta turn your fuckin’ brain off forever.”

With that, he started to purposefully piston his hips, holding my bound wrists behind my back for better leverage. I was nearly boneless, shrieking in pleasure as his hot, throbbing cock stretched me open and brushed against each and every nerve ending just right—at least that was how it felt. How he felt. His thrusts were deep and slow and pointed. I sobbed against the feeling, wanting to rut back into him to make him speed up. But, I couldn’t muster the strength. So I just let him fuck into me at his own pace and I felt myself starting to build towards another bout of pleasure—this bound to be even stronger than before if the stars already behind my eyes were anything to go by.

“Daddy, please,” I sobbed, not knowing if I wanted more or less stimulation, more or less pleasure, from him.

Regardless of what I wanted, Rafe didn’t say anything. He grunted out a noise of acknowledgment that I’d spoken then doubled down in his efforts to make me cum again. And when he wrapped his arm around my throat again, tightening quickly and entirely, it was over. This time, as he forced me to a third orgasm, I was actually sobbing, tears running down my face from the fucked up amount of pain and pleasure entwined in being so overstimulated in such a short period of time—especially after so long away from him.

“There’s my good fucking girl,” Rafe said, voice slightly hoarse as he slowed his thrusts to a stop.

He still hadn’t cum himself, his dick fully pulsing inside of me with how hard he was. I dreaded what that meant, even though I also fully anticipated what I knew would come. He gently undid the belt from around my wrists, releasing me, and then eased himself out of me. He flipped me around on the couch and I looked at him with big watery eyes.

“Please no more,” I said, tears slipping down my cheeks. “It’s too much, please.”

“Come on, darlin’,” he cooed, pressing kisses to my cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You can give me one more. Been missing my pussy so much. You know I need one more from her.” Another series of kisses, the last one a long and lingering, filthy one to my lips where his tongue entwined with mine and we both pulled back needing air. “Please, baby. One more for me.”

His hand moved down, gently tracing my clit, making me jolt. Already I was so sensitive, so overstimulated. But, the impossibly sweet and imploring look on his face? The hunger he had for me? It was impossible to deny.

“Okay, daddy,” I agreed, sniffling.

He leaned his forehead against mine, grinning. “That’s my girl,” he said softly.

He hitched my leg up over his hip, settling between my legs on the couch. He used his free hand to grip his cock, looking down at us. He gently slapped the head of his dick against my clit once, twice, a third time until I whined and he chuckled, reaching over to press a short kiss to my lips to shut me up. He ran himself up and down my slit over and over until I was shivering and he saw a tiny dribble of new arousal dripping from me. He let out a low moan of his own and then sank into me in one, hitching my leg up again so he could thrust as deep as humanly possible.

“There you are, gorgeous. There’s my beautiful fucking girl,” Rafe praised, pressing a kiss to each cheek, to my lips, and to my forehead as he steadily thrust into me. “So fucking perfect for me. So fucking good for me, baby.”

“You feel so good, daddy,” I said, eyes rolling back and then curling as he pressed down on the slight bulge in my stomach only present because of him. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Anything for you, baby. Fucking anything,” he grunted. He ground slower against me instead of thrusting for a few moments. “You don’t get to keep me from my pussy anymore, baby. I gotta fucking be with you.”

“Wanna be with you, daddy,” I babbled in agreement.

“Good fucking girl,” he huffed, pressing down on the bulge again making me whimper. I felt his dick pulsate again and I tightened around him habitually making his breath hitch. “You gonna cum for me one more time, baby? I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, daddy, I’m gonna cum,” I whined. “Please can I cum? Please, please, please?” I begged.

“Fu-fuck yeah,” Rafe stuttered. “Cum with me baby.”

And this time, as I fell across pleasure’s razor edge once more, Rafe fell with me. I felt as he came inside me, hot and deep. My eyes rolled at the feeling, almost addicted to the mere feeling of him being so close and intensely part of me at that moment. I held him without realizing it, nails digging into the skin of his back as I held him against me, ignoring the fact that I was trembling like a leaf.

“So proud of you, my sweet girl. So good for me, gorgeous. Love you so much. So good for me.” Those were the first things I was coherent of hearing again when the whooshing in my ears had faded. They were the sweet praise that Rafe was offering. He went to move—to pull out—but I held him to me still, almost wrapping myself around him like a koala to stop it.

“No,” I denied. “Don’t move yet.”

“Okay, baby,” he agreed. “I won’t pull out. Do you want me to hold you?” I nodded. He carefully moved us. I winced as he adjusted us so that I was sitting up and in his lap because it made him deeper for a moment still but as we settled that faded and I just melted into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You did so good.” He stroked my skin and hair for a moment. “I gotta get you cleaned up, sweet girl. Get you some water.”

“Not yet,” I denied again, eyes closed as I leaned against him, as much of my skin touching him as possible. “Take care of me in a minute.”

He chuckled. “Oh? You’re gonna let me take care of you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered absent-mindedly. “Fine. You can take care of me, Rafe. I’ll stop being stubborn.” I needed his help. He’d been right about that when he showed up, I was adult enough to admit that. And I knew that he loved me. That he meant it from the best place.

“Really?” he asked, disbelieving. “You’re gonna move in with me? Let me take care of you? Just like that? All I had to do was fuck you like that?”

“Yeah. That’s all you had to do,” I agreed, far too exhausted to explain the complex detail of it in truth. I let out a breathless laugh though, a thought occurring to me when I felt a cool bite of metal and plastic on my leg. “Well, as long as you don’t get arrested for busting out of house arrest.” I cracked open my eyes to give him a smile.

“Shut up, I'll be fine,” he muttered. His hands held me closely, tightly, possessively to him. “You don’t get to take it back. I get to take care of you now. To make sure you’re safe. You’re gonna live with me, sweet girl.”

“Okay, Rafe,” I agreed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. He leaned into the touch and I smiled. “I will.” I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, laying my forehead against his.

“I love you, baby,” he murmured, so quiet I could barely hear it.

“I love you too,” I replied, just as quiet, just as simple.

He smiled at that, the sight making his eyes go warm and sweet. “Alright, then, gorgeous. Let’s get you cleaned up and get the fuck out of here,” he said. His smile morphed into a cheesy sort of grin—the kind I rarely got to see. “Let’s go home.”

For once, I couldn’t disagree. And I couldn’t help but echo the cheesy smile. “Okay, then, Romeo,” I teased. “Let’s go home.”

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skzdarlings · 5 months ago

Text

the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part iv

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: reader described with curly hair.

content warnings: the previously established story dynamics are prevalent in this chapter, please proceed at own discretion.

chapter word count: 12000 words.

Your body inevitably surrenders to its exhaustion. You sleep through the sunrise and past noon, opening your eyes to a day gone by. The deep gold of afternoon sunlight fills the room like a dreamy mist.

The golden shade obscures all your worries. You forget where you are. You forget who you are. You feel well-rested and well-loved, a warmth blossoming in your heart, reminiscent of a hopeful spring in this rotting hot summer.

You are brought back to reality by voices outside your door. Memories of the past day flood your mind, everything from the violence to the impossible kindness. You sit up in bed, straining to hear.

“—had me ride ahead to see the queen was safe.” That voice sounds like Changbin. You have only heard him speak a few times but he has a recognizable pitch, not to mention his tone when he says, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Jisung replies. He sounds tired. You can only imagine what he looks like. Did he sleep at all?

There is a beat of silence. Maybe Changbin is waiting for more, but Jisung is not forthcoming.

“Did something happen?” Changbin asks.

“Huh?” There is some clattering as Jisung moves. “Yeah,” he snaps, in a tone more agitated than you have heard from him. “Someone tried to kill the fucking queen.”

“Hey, watch your tone with me. I know that, but you—”

Changbin stops halfway through his sentence. Jisung’s expression is evidently enough to quiet him.

There is some more movement, the swish of fabric, then Changbin says, “Go change into clean robes. Take a nap. I’ll guard the queen. When you’re done, I’ll ride back to the others and report. We should all arrive by nightfall—”

“I’ll ride back,” Jisung says, his voice and footsteps already sounding farther.

“Hey!” Changbin hollers. “You need to rest!”

There is no reply. You hear the creak of booted steps on the stairs, then Jisung is gone.

“Be careful with my horse!” Changbin shouts. “Ahhh, if he leaves her in the woods…”

Changbin keeps muttering even though Jisung is long gone.

You sink into the blankets.

It does not matter how far he goes. When you close your eyes, Jisung is still there, looking back at you. In a few short days, Han Jisung has inextricably twined himself around your heart. Despite all the horror of yesterday and the cruelty of your holy husband, you were able to sleep without nightmares because of Jisung’s selfless tenderness.

You obviously do not love this stranger yet but you think you could. You want to love him. You want to know him better and you want him to know you. That warmth in your heart is him, a blossom unfolding in the spring of your new becoming, but it aches – not because a love is ending, but because it can never begin.

Jisung has saved you yet again. He took care of you last night, disregarding himself as he has done before. You would give anything for him to experience the same devotion he has bestowed upon others. You want to leap out of this bed and saddle a horse, chase after him, find him in the woods and –

And what? That plan did not work last time.

You linger in bed for a long time, awake but nonetheless dreaming, pondering. Your duty, your family, your people. The king, the marriage, the cruelty.

Jisung. His eyes, his voice, his everything.

Hunger finally lures you out of the covers. You dress yourself in the gown gifted by the innkeeper’s wife. When your hair is pinned up as neatly as possible, you step into the corridor and greet Changbin. You go downstairs and the innkeeper prepares you a meal. You eat by the unlit fire, the same place you sat with Jisung last night, before –

Your whole body burns when you think about it. Whether you are with the king or on your own, you doubt you will ever touch yourself without thinking of Jisung and last night.

“Is the food all right, Your Majesty?” Changbin asks. His nose crinkles as he looks down at the bowl, as if he expects to find the source of your misery there. “It smells all right.”

“Oh, yes, it is,” you say. You suppose morosely poking at a bowl is bad manners.

The inn is bustling with workers preparing for the royal arrival. When you finish eating, you find the innkeeper’s wife and ask for something to do. Though she says the queen should not lift a finger, you insist that you prefer to stay busy. You tell her you have genuine technical skills and she relents, perhaps seeing the sincerity in your pleading. You do not want to sit in silent thought right now.

That is how you find yourself with the mending. Changbin loiters nearby, not hiding his boredom very well. He starts lifting random objects to exercise his already-ample muscles. He tries to challenge himself but it loses novelty quickly as there is nothing especially heavy in the room.

You ask if he wants to sew with you. He gives you a wary look but takes a seat. You show him some basic stitches.

“Kingsguards don’t do their own mending, I suppose,” you say.

He furrows his brow with concentration. He has thick fingers and struggles to thread the needle, but he cheers for himself like the winner of a game match when he succeeds.

“Ah, no,” he eventually answers, stabbing the needle into a torn shirt. “The squires take care of it. I haven’t touched a needle since my training.”

You chat about his time as squire for the kingsguard. Unlike Jisung, Changbin comes from a noble family, though he is the youngest of ten. Knowing he would never see a penny of inheritance nor an acre of land, he devoted himself to the gods. He claims beyond prayer, his only real skill is crushing skulls.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” you say, resuming your own mending now that he is easily sewing on his own. “You’re quite the seamstress.”

He giggles. That bubbly laughter in that bulky body makes you laugh too.

“Well, it never hurts to have more skills,” you say. “I don’t think any work is beneath anyone. If you don’t take care, you may forget just how much effort goes into menial tasks.”

“Hmm.” Changbin looks thoughtful. “Yes, that does happen.”

The day passes with a few chores and some conversation. The sun begins its descent sooner than later. You are eating supper when the royal party arrives.

You promptly lose your appetite.

You and Changbin wait in the front room while the party loudly organizes itself outside. The contrast of quietude makes it feel like there is a bubble around the room – weak, vulnerable, about to burst.

Changbin looks at you sideways. He has spoken freely this afternoon and appears to debate whether he should question your wellbeing as a person or stay silent as a kingsguard. He rocks on his feet, fist curled around his sword hilt. His mouth opens with a question when the door swings open.

Chan enters first. He and Changbin exchange a nod, then Chan bows to greet you. “Your Majesty,” he says.

He moves aside swiftly. The king enters right behind him. Your knees knock but you conceal your fright, hoping your queasiness does not show on your face.

“My queen,” the king says. His tone is warmer than usual. He has only ever addressed you with open contempt, but now he approaches you with his hand outstretched and a respectful dip of his head. “The gods have surely blessed you to survive such a trying ordeal.”

You flinch when he grabs your face, though he does not strike you. That would have been less surprising than the kiss he places on the top of your head.

He drops his hands and walks away without another word, leaving you standing there in shock.

The other kingsguards follow. Minho does not show much expression but Hyunjin rolls his eyes at the king’s display. His aggravation seems as red hot as ever, barely concealed as he bows appropriately. When he rises, he gives you a look, one you can only describe as a warning.

The shock passes. Maybe it is not strange the king is acting nice. He would not want anyone to suspect him of your assassination attempt. Feigning affection for his wife would redirect the accusations.

Hyunjin and Minho move along. Seungmin and Jeongin bow next. You wait but Jisung does not show, just an array of courtiers and servants that have been travelling in the retinue.

“Wife,” the king says, though bellows or commands is more appropriate. “Sit. Eat.”

You do not have an appetite. You sit beside the king as he glowers and mutters complaints about everything and nothing.

Part way through the meal, Jisung arrives. He makes some excuse to Chan, something about minding his horse after its ordeal.

You stare at Jisung across the room. He shakes out his robes, brushing a few twigs of hay from the black cloth. His dark hair is pushed back, his face open as he turns his face to the room.

He catches your eye before anyone and anything. Your heart reacts with an eager leap.

Last night was overwhelming. You remember his desperation towards the end. You can only imagine what was on his mind. You have spent all day in turmoil, alternating between reassurance and berating yourself. Perhaps he just needed to decompress, or perhaps he regretted ever telling you a word, that he would prefer to never look upon you again.

He looks at you now and you realize that was nonsense. It is the same longing, intense stare as last night, one that moves like a hungry touch. You shiver even though the heated room is packed full.

The king pays him no mind. Jisung bows from across the room and it is only for you.

He does not look at you after that, sitting with the other kingsguards while he eats his meal. When it is over, the king asks for music so Jisung fetches his guitar. His singing soothes your anxious spirit. It is so calming after so much turmoil, your eyelids start to feel heavy.

You fall asleep to his music. You wake to a gentle touch on your shoulder, finding yourself slumped over the table, head on your folded arms, a very un-queenly pose. You surface groggily, blinking slowly up at the guard who touched you.

It is Minho. The front room is empty except for the innkeeper, some servants, and two kingsguards chatting, evidently manning the front door. The king is gone, perhaps already to bed. You sigh with relief as hopefully that means he will not bother you.

Minho has been assigned to guard you tonight. He sweeps through your room, checking the windows and locks, but thankfully does not stay inside. You prefer privacy, though you would not mind if it was Jisung, even if it is dangerous to think that way.

Yes, very dangerous, as you close your eyes and imagine his dark eyes, watching you from across the room. You kiss your fingertips and touch your neck, just like he showed you, feeling that tell-tale flush of warmth when you imagine his lips on your throat. Your body feels tight, everything from your waist below clenching inside.

Your hand slips under the covers. You do not think of the king even once, all your thoughts rivetted to Han Jisung. You follow the natural call of desire, going so far as to curl your fingers inside yourself. You dare only a little touch but it still makes you gasp. You bite your lip to stay quiet, even though you want to scream a certain name when you stroke the place he showed you and come apart with the same earth-shattering release. You picture his face the entire time, specifically the dark and desperate way he looked at you when you put your fingers in your mouth.

You do it again, imagining those fingers are his, imagining kneeling in front of him like you desired last night. You take your fingers to the knuckle and wonder what he would say, what he would do. Just watching you made him blaspheme, the gods on his tongue as his whole body shook with a deep breath.

You fear you may be an insatiable, lecherous creature on top of irredeemably sinful, as you lower your fingers and do it all over again.

You whisper his name as you come over that crest of pleasure. It sounds like a prayer in the quiet dark.

A long day of travel looms ahead of you. You do not want to give the king any excuse to berate you, so you rise early and dress quickly without assistance. You intend to be the first downstairs.

You open your door without warning, causing the guard to stumble backwards because he was leaning on it.

The guard is no longer Minho.

Jisung spills into your path, eyes flashing with surprise. You are surprised too. The guards must have traded posts overnight, allowing the first group to get some sleep.

Of course, no one thought anything of assigning Jisung to your room. No one would have reason to believe you would stand like this in the doorway, staring at each other so intently.

You make no sound, just the gentle exchange of breath, but your heart races towards him in a noisy stampede. Given how he leans towards you, as if enthralled in a spell, his own heart is doing the same.

“Ah, uh, Your Majesty,” he finally says, sweeping into a bow.

His dark hair falls over his face. Unable to resist the soft allure of each dark wave, you touch the back of his bowed head. It is a quick caress.

He makes a wounded sound. When he stands, his face is flushed.

“Are you, ah, ready for me to take you?” he asks. His eye twitches. He clutches the hilt of his sword very tightly. “Downstairs,” he says quickly. “Are you ready for me to take you downstairs? Yes. That.”

You nod. You have not spoken a word out loud, but you suspect your gaze gives you away, because Jisung looks into your eyes and makes that same sad whimper before darting down the corridor.

“Downstairs,” he says, a sing-song as he scuttles down the stairwell. “Downstairs, downstairs, la la la—”

The king arrives while you are having breakfast. You are soon gathered outside the inn, preparing to travel. There is a long stretch of countryside between this city and the capital. The next several nights will be spent camping in the woods, then you will arrive in the capital province and reside indoors, then finally traverse the great city to the palace.

You are not sure what fate awaits you there. It seems so impossible and far away, but the interim is only a handful of days.

You stand on your own, watching the activity around you, anxiously twisting your fingers around the sleeve of your dress.

In the midst of the hustle, your eyes find Jisung. He is adjusting his saddlebags, surreptitiously glancing at you from a distance. If anyone caught him looking at you now, you fear they would see far too much of everything. Those eyes betray him every time. Right now you see anxiety burning in them. Perhaps he is picturing what you are picturing: that you will have to ride with him, your back pressed to his front, and you will not be able to think of anything except the other night.

You make your way over to him. He turns his attention to his saddle, securing and re-securing every strap, rein, and buckle. He keeps his eyes occupied and his hands busy, even when you finally step into his periphery.

“Jisung,” you say.

“Hmm?” He tightens a strap he just loosened.

“Is it all right if I ride with you?” you ask.

“Of course!” he says, his voice bright and joyful, like a bard entertaining a crowd rather than a man in conversation.

“I just thought I would ask, in case there was a problem,” you say. You get more anxious the longer he does not look at you.

“That’s nice,” he says in that same boisterous tone. “Why would there be a problem, ha-ha?”

He steps away, circling the horse to adjust something on the other side. You blink at the empty air then follow. The horse dips its head you so you take a second to stroke its muzzle. To anyone passing, you and Jisung look perfectly occupied and uninterested in each other. Truly, you can feel the distance straining. You step a little closer.

“Can you look at me please?” you say softly.

His frantic hands finally stop their fluttering. He looks the other way. It is towards the king’s carriage where the other kingsguards are organizing.

In the blink of an eye, that cheerful bard disappears and a much more solemn character stands before you.

“No, my queen,” Jisung speaks in a low voice. “Not when you’re this close to me.”

It is good he has the sense to look around because you forget about everyone but him. You are rooted to the spot, your breath caught. It comes in a shallow gasp at last.

“Why not?” you ask.

His brow furrows with utter confusion, like he cannot fathom the question because the answer is so obvious.

“You know why,” he says.

You are not sure how religious you are anymore. You have drowned in the silence of the gods. When Jisung says those words, this quiet but honest acknowledgement that he is just as affected by this power between you, you feel a force of nature rise within you. It is the closest sensation to the breath of the gods, the supposed life force they breathe into their chosen ones. It moves through you like lightning. You feel dizzy and not from the sun as it creeps towards its midday pinnacle.

You look at Jisung. He looks at nothing.

“Your Majesty,” Chan’s voice breaks the wall of intense silence.

You and Jisung both whip towards him. If Chan saw anything untoward in your nervous behaviour, he does not comment. He strides to you with the confident steps of an authoritative man. He dips smoothly into a bow. When he rises, one hand rests in a fist above his heart. The other sits on his sword hilt.

“As I’m sure you know by now, yesterday was not just a robbery,” Chan says, getting to the crux without wasting a breath. “Jisung is a very capable soldier but if there is another attempt on your life, the safest place will be with me. If it’s all right with you, Your Majesty, I would personally escort you to the capital.”

There is no reason to refute his request. Perhaps it is better you do not even try. With the intensity of the last few days, maybe it is better to let all these passions simmer. When they have burned themselves to ash, it will be easier to sweep them away.

“Of course,” you say. “Thank you, kingsguard.”

Chan guides you towards the front of the train. You do not look at Jisung until you are perched on the horse. You intend to merely glance over your shoulder, but he is staring intently and it locks your gaze on him. Before it lingers too long, Chan swings onto the horse and blocks your view.

You let yourself settle near the kingsguard leader. All the while, you feel a different pair of eyes on you.

It feels like ages before you finally depart. After some time on the road, the others begin their chatter and sing-song. Jisung starts the singing, as is his wont. You wonder if anyone else notices how he starts the songs but never finishes them. As soon as the others begin their jovial singing, Jisung goes silent and remains quiet until prompted again.

You do not have to turn around to know his expression is solemn between bouts of entertaining giddiness.

Chan does not sing or chat much. He has a clear respect and even affection for his men, but he puts his duty first.

Chan is also better at keeping an appropriate distance between your bodies. Perhaps that is because the king’s carriage is close enough that you can catch a glimpse inside. Some of the king’s favourite courtiers ride with him, all of them adjusted to the uneven road as they play card games and drink while talking. You are sure some of their gossip is about you given the side glances and whispers.

You are not sure if Chan notices. You get periodically tense and he is close to you, so maybe he can tell. Perhaps that is why he lets his horse fall back just enough to lose view of the inside of the carriage.

With the king’s judgemental eyes no longer snapping towards you, you can breathe easier. You even dare start a conversation with the kingsguard leader, though it feels intimidating in its own right. Riding with Chan is not like riding with Jisung. A conversation with the devout leader is very different than giggling with the bard.

“Why doesn’t the king want me to ride with Hyunjin?” you ask curiously. “He seems like a competent soldier.”

“Ah.” Chan laughs, a nervous little giggle. “He is. It’s, ah, not for any real reason. Really. Just that, well, Hyunjin is good-looking, I guess.”

“But he’s a kingsguard,” you say.

“Yes, he is,” Chan answers more seriously. “Honestly, I know they all joke about it but… Hyunjin is one of the most devoted soldiers I have ever known. There’s a reason he’s in the order. He can’t really helps what he looks like, but whatever you hear: it’s not true. He’s good, Your Majesty. They all are.”

“I believe it,” you say. “I’ve never known a more loyal group of men. They live up to their reputation.”

“Yes, they do,” Chan says with obvious pride.

You were seeking that warmth in his voice, the respect with which he clearly regards his men. It makes the real question inside you burn.

“May I ask something more serious?” you finally say.

“Of course, Your Majesty!” Chan says. “You can ask me anything.”

There is not a hint of insincerity there. You truly do believe Chan wants to do the right thing, but you are still wary in conversation with him. Chan is steadfast with his responsibilities. To him, the right thing will involve the king in some capacity, so you cannot be as free as you were with Jisung.

“The matter does not necessarily concern me,” you explain.

“Hm, you’re the queen,” he answers. “If it’s about the kingdom, it’s to do with you. Ask me.”

He lends himself easily to trust. With his competency and sincerity, you see how he easily rose the ranks of the kingsguard. Jisung mentioned Chan was one of the youngest squires in history, setting records for length of time spent in training. Those years of study and prayer make him incomparable. He is the best and worst person to ask this question.

“The guard who ran off,” you say, “and the king’s former mistress… What will become of them?”

The king has not forgiven nor forgotten the treachery. It contributes to his constant stream of anger. You cannot imagine anyone, even this spoiled fool, possessing the energy to rant and rave so incessantly, but his passions will not be tempered. He has mused aloud all his gory desires, threats you know he will manifest if given the opportunity.

It makes you sick to your stomach. The details of the king’s fury are nauseating, not to mention your personal connection to the couple. You saw them with your own eyes. You saw their hope and their desire as they risked everything for freedom.

You know that Han Jisung was involved.

All those gory images dance across your mind like tableaus from some horrible play, too gargantuan and horrifying to be real life.

“Ah,” Chan says. Though he encouraged your question, he does sound a little hesitant now. “I understand. That was a… bad introduction to the kingsguard, I guess, wasn’t it?” he says. “We couldn’t spare the resources to search for them, not without delaying our return. The king wants to launch a kingdom-wide search once we are settled in the capital.”

“You’ll be the one in charge?”

“Well, I’m issuing it to Changbin and probably Minho, because I’ll have to attend to my usual duties. But I’ll oversee it. Why?”

“How much will a search like that will cost?” you ask.

The question surprises Chan. Perhaps he did not expect such a pragmatic question, but there is an emotional underbelly to your query. That is your family’s money the king will use to satisfy his own petty grievances, rather than putting it towards the kingdom he is sworn to protect.

“It won’t be nothing,” Chan finally admits.

“What purpose will finding them serve?” you ask.

You want to turn around and shout it: that the king is pursuing them to soothe his own damaged ego and not because they are any threat to the wellbeing of the kingdom. Surely, a man as capable and intelligent as Chan must know that.

You wonder how it must feel for this dedicated guard to be sworn to this type of king. He deserves better. Everyone does.

Chan bristles, hearing the unspoken accusation in your question. You feel his upright posture straighten even more.

“They broke the law,” he answers, his voice steadier than his body. “He broke his vows. She broke her promises. There are consequences.”

“Consequences?” you ask. “Or punishments?”

“Your Majesty,” he says as sternly as he can without being rude. You suspect if you were a foot soldier, you would have been told to shut up. “The kingsguard is pure. When we give up our earthly goods, that doesn’t just mean literally, it means emotionally. We trade our present life for eternity. Everything we do, we do in service of the gods who provide for us. Then and only then can the kingdom thrive. A slight against the king is a slight against the gods. Corruption can’t be allowed to spread.”

“Corruption,” you say softly. “You truly believe in the king’s purity?”

When he does not answer right away, you look at him. He looks at the carriage. His brow is furrowed, his jaw set, looking very austere and cold. He softens his expression when you meet eyes.

“I think you’re a good kingsguard and a good leader, Bang Chan,” you say. “Your men are good and they put their faith in you as much as the gods. Whatever you believe, I will believe too.”

You know Chan will not speak ill of the gods-chosen king. You also know he will not commit a sin like lying. So when you ask if he believes in the king’s purity, you are not surprised there is no answer. He simply sighs as he turns his gaze ahead.

“Maybe we should talk about something else,” he says.

It is all the answer you need.

Your journey follows a river that flows to the sea now behind you. The course ahead lays inland. Rest comes a few hours into travelling. It is at a clearing not far from the river. You can hear as it rushes and pours in a steady stream that leads far away from here.

Everyone mills about, stretching their legs or sitting in the shade, while some prepare food and share drinks. The king is with his courtiers, Chan close to him as usual. You sit near the remaining kingsguards, close enough to be guarded but not so close to make them uncomfortable. You know they will not speak freely in the queen’s presence so you grant them privacy.

It means they are distracted just enough, blind to the way you and Jisung lock eyes across the breadth of woodland space. After your conversation with Chan about the potential fate of the runaway lovers, you have fought to restrain all those deep, complicated desires. You are less committed to true obedience, resigned to your own tragedy if the king moves against you, but you cannot be so careless with Jisung’s fate.

It should be easy. You hardly know the man. Yet those dark eyes find you and see you, always right down to the core of you, and it is so difficult to wrench your gaze away.

Jisung turns first. He mutters something to Minho who is sitting beside him. Whatever he says makes Minho freeze, a drink halfway to his lips. His eyes dart over to you.

Your back straightens, goosebumps rising, wondering what Jisung just told him. Whatever it is, Minho makes the same report to Seungmin who also looks your way.

Startled with all the attention, you resume focus on your idle task. You dug some embroidery tools out of your trunk, so you sit on a stump threading patterns with no particular end design in mind. It is just way to look and feel busy. Your loneliness is less acute when occupied with a familiar task.

You are disrupted by the crunching of the dirt path under booted steps. You lift your head, gaze travelling long dark robes until you meet Seungmin’s eyes. Seungmin is not exactly the friendliest, but there is an honest simplicity to him. He does what he must, when he must, and he does it well, with no subterfuge or obfuscation of true intent. So he must mean it very sincerely when he tips his head towards the circle of guards, clearly inviting you to join them.

“Your Majesty,” he says. “The kingsguard would be honoured by your company.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised.

Seungmin does not leave time for argument, taking your embroidery out of your hands and offering his arm. You accept it, ushered along before you can think twice. You are soon a part of the kingsguard circle. You take a seat between Seungmin and Hyunjin.

Seungmin returns your tools once you are settled. The boys continue their conversation while you work, a tenderness and warmth in your heart that was not there before.

“I can do that too,” Changbin says, pointing to your embroidery. It makes Hyunjin inelegantly spit-spray his drink everywhere, the others similarly laughing. “I can!” Changbin protests. “Tell them,” he says to you. “Tell them how good I am.”

“Tell them, Your Majesty,” Jeongin reminds him, nudging him with an elbow.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Changbin jokes, ruffling the youngest’s hair.

“Yes,” you say. You laugh at their antics, but lay a hand on your heart and declare with teasing solemnity, “It’s true. Kingsguard Changbin is quite a natural with a needle, I must swear it so.”

Seungmin whistles, the others still chuckling.

“I believe it then,” Hyunjin says, a twinkle in his eye. “If the queen swears it, it must be true.” There is a hint of seriousness to the proclamation, a knowing glance cast aside. “It’s easier being a queensguard when the queen is true.”

Though it is not unusual to refer to the kingsguards as queensguards in relative context, it is rarely done, and certainly no one has said it yet. You suspect this king would not be so partial to acknowledgement of shared power. Any reminder of your own latent holiness just angers him.

Not to mention, while Hyunjin does not mention the king directly, the proclamation it is easier to guard a true monarch nonetheless carries a hint of accusation.

You say nothing to refute nor encourage the claim, anticipating someone else may correct or shush him.

Instead, Minho tips his cup in your direction.

“Mm, hear to that,” he says casually, before taking a sip.

“To the queen,” Jisung says, lifting his own cup too.

Your gaze flies to him. He smiles from across the circle, his arm outstretched and his cup tilted towards you. Strange to say you have missed that sincere smile after so short a time, but you have, and it moves you more than the toast. It reminds you of the first time you saw him, the first time he saw you in turn, when he stood above a crowd and sang to you across hundreds of people.

The other guards follow his prompt. They lift their cups and take a drink, leaving you more than a little flustered.

“You’re the queen,” Seungmin says with that wide, cheeky smile, lightly nudging you with his elbow. “You’ll have to get used to this.”

You find it unlikely anyone but the kingsguard will ever toast to you, but you smile and express your gratitude.

Conversation has scarcely resumed when Chan comes stomping over. His agitation ripples like rings in a disturbed pool of water, spreading to his men who follow his flow. They all sit straighter, looking at him for orders.

Chan just huffs and takes a seat.

“Jeongin,” he says. “Go stand guard over the king.” He unwraps some food and takes a bite, shaking his head all the while. His irritation clearly gets the better of him because he mutters through his teeth, plenty loud enough for the others to hear, “I can’t listen to more complaining.”

“Is he mad about the weather again?” Changbin asks with a laugh.

“He’s the chosen one,” Minho says with a sly grin. “Why doesn’t he just make the sun less hot?”

Chan clears his throat loudly, though he doesn’t berate them beyond that.

“Jeongin,” he says, making a vague gesticulation in the direction of the king.

“Why do I have to go?” Jeongin asks, wearing a petulant pout that only the youngest could get away with. You suspect anyone else would have received a lecture, but Chan just gives him a look, eyebrow quirked, and Jeongin complies with a tired sigh.

“That’s what you get for eating so fast,” Seungmin says, earning himself a smack up the head as Jeongin passes him.

“He’s right,” Minho says. “You eat like a horse.”

“Whoa, hey, man!” Jisung says. “Don’t insult our horses like that.”

There is some more laughter. Jeongin shakes his head but his deep dimples show his amusement. You giggle too, though it is probably inappropriate to jeer and chortle with a group of guards. It is just too funny. You watched moments ago as Jeongin shoved a truly impressive amount of food in his mouth, all but unhinging his jaw as he crammed it in like it was going to be taken away. The jokes are mostly to that effect as the youngest ambles over to the king for guard duty.

The conversations splinter after that, everyone more or less talking in pairs. You just listen while working on your embroidery. When Seungmin goes to relieve himself, it opens an empty space between you and Chan. The others are engrossed in their conversations – and playful but rowdy debates – while Chan just smiles and listens. He occupies his hands with sharpening the point of a dagger.

You shuffle closer to him. The motion catches his eye and he looks at you. Though your conversations on horseback were polite after the initial topic, he still looks wary, perhaps now recognizing the look in your eye.

“May I ask a question?” you ask.

“You know you can,” he says, though he looks even more concerned.

“It’s about the kingsguard vows,” you say. “I know you said it prevents corruption – but how and why?”

“Why those vows?” Chan asks.

He picks up the sheath for his dagger, eyes there as he slides it back in place. The other guards notice his contemplative attitude. Their conversations trail when Chan begins to speak.

“The kingsguard is an old service,” Chan says. “Almost as old as the kingdom itself. The gods chose favourites even before the palace had walls, and those favourites become kings, yes? But with palaces, and money, and power comes corruption. There was a king who lost his way. He stopped listening to the gods. Sin and lust and anger: he let it conquer him. The kingsguard was formed to save him from himself and, when that was impossible, to save the kingdom. The first kingsguard order burned all their clothes, put on the black cloth, and vowed to never be swayed by any worldly temptation or sin. It is not an order you can just join. It is not a vow you just make. The king, your brotherhood, and all the kingdom rely on your sword. The corrupt king was executed by the kingsguard so the gods could choose another. Since then, there has been no need for intervention. It has been a perfect harmony for centuries. So we maintain the vows of those first kingsguards and so the kingdom stays in harmony and order.”

“So it is of utmost importance both the king and the kingsguard keep their vows,” you say.

There is a beat of silence, like Chan knows you are going to say something that will make his forehead throb, but he relents and says, “…yes.”

Rather than torment him with more implications the king is not pure, you ask, “What makes a sin?”

His eyes dart over the other guards. Their attention is moving between you and Chan as if watching the volley of an intense game match.

Chan slowly turns to you and says, “Anything that distracts from the gods.”

The guards look at you.

“I see,” you say. “Such as lust and anger, as you said?”

Their eyes flick to Chan.

“Yes,” Chan says.

Their eyes flick back to you.

“Yet I fear I feel the gods most strongly in the throes of such things,” you say. “The gods created all those feelings. I have spent much of my life suppressing the call of great emotion. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that since being chosen by the gods, I have felt their designs all the more powerfully.”

Their eyes practically bulge out of their heads. Chan just stares at you, barely even blinking.

“Perhaps the king does too,” you say, your voice innocently light. You draw your needle through the fabric, watching the colourful thread as you draw it heavenward. “Perhaps that is why his relentless wrath is considered a permissible action.”

Hyunjin makes a sound, a short, sharp cackle, throwing a hand over his mouth before it can grow. The others wear long faces, not daring to remark. Jisung is wide-eyed. When you glance at him, he tips his head, at once curious and concerned.

You tear your eyes away from him. You smile at Chan.

“Ah,” Chan says. “Well.”

“I think it might be the same for other so-called sins,” you say. “Lust for example. I think… I think it’s a lot like prayer.”

“I’m sorry.” Chan shakes his head rapidly back-and-forth. His eyes close in a painful wince. “Like.. like prayer?” He looks at you like you just smacked him. He probably would have preferred it. A kingsguard can take a hit, but you are not sure they are built to withstand the queen speaking like this.

“Yes,” you say, smiling. You look down at your embroidery, threading a little flower. “I think intimate intercourse is like praying. It is the highest expression of gratitude and love, showing appreciation for the life the gods have given you, and the appreciation of the life they have created in another. I think this can be turned into a sin, of course. When it is stolen, when it is forced, when it is coerced, when it is taken without care or consideration for the other… Yes, I believe this great gift can be corrupted. But I believe it can be the holiest of all earthly actions. I dare say there is no way to be closer to the gods.”

There is a long gap of silence. Hyunjin still has a hand over his mouth, like he doesn’t trust himself otherwise, and Jisung is still wide-eyed and more than a little flushed. Tufts of dark hair are flicked up at the nape of his neck, a scarlet tinge to his complexion.

Minho and Changbin eventually say, “Wow.”

“Um.” Chan clears his throat.

“I know,” you say, smiling at him. “We should talk about something else.”

You focus on your embroidery, humming to yourself.

Seungmin returns and sits down in the silence. He looks around the quiet circle and lifts an eyebrow.

“What did I miss?” he asks.

Rest comes to an end. There is a bustle as everyone packs up and prepares to continue the journey. You will travel a few more hours, at which point the sun will begin its descent. You should reach the predetermined site to build camp before nightfall.

You wait near Chan’s horse, stroking its muzzle, lost in thought. You imagine what would have happened if you died yesterday. Would the king have the audacity to celebrate, even in the face of his solemn guards? His success might have emboldened him, made him feel justified, like the gods were on his side. You would like to think his failure has tempered him, that he will take it as a sign of the gods’ disapproval, but you doubt it.

You spot Changbin in the middle of the crowd. He is helping the servants with some heavy lifting, packing cooking instruments on the wagon. Chan looks like he will be another minute. While he is distracted, you wander over to Changbin.

Changbin puts the last piece of equipment on the wagon. A servant bows and thanks him profusely. Changbin grins and lifts the servant out of his bow. He winks, saying, “Ah, no work is beneath anyone! You don’t need to thank me.”

You smile as Changbin gives the flustered servant a friendly pat on the back. Of course, Changbin is quite strong, and the willowy servant stumbles, but it is still a sweet moment. Once confirming the servant is all right, Changbin approaches you and bows.

“Your Majesty,” he says. “Can I help you?”

Changbin is in a good mood. The kingsguards did not seem angry with your earlier words, just surprised, even amused. You think they just like to see their incorruptible leader so flustered.

“Not so much,” you say. “I just have something on my mind. Chan told me the king intends to launch a search for the missing guard and mistress. He said the primary duties may be relegated to you.”

“Ah.” Changbin’s eyes darken with the furrow of his brow. His grin disappears and he looks very morose. “Yes. Most likely. Do you have something to report?”

Flashes of that night play in your mind. You shiver as you suppress them.

“No,” you say. “I just have a great deal of respect for the kingsguard. This is a difficult situation for you all, I am sure. I wished to make my allegiance to you known. In the event of any… complications.”

“Complications,” Changbin repeats.

“Yes.” You weigh your words very carefully. You can either win Changbin’s confidence or push him further away. “Like Chan said, the vows are so important, and your brotherhood relies so strongly on each other. I’m sure Felix meant a great deal to you, at a time. This must be very difficult.”

“Yes.” Changbin’s brow unfurrows, his face softening in a moment of obvious reminiscence. He seems to stare right past you, lost in some faraway thought. He sighs and runs a hand through his black hair, smooth strands falling back over his forehead. “Felix was a good man,” Changbin says. “You… remind me of him, a little. The things you say. Ahhh, this is all wrong.” He shakes his head, his expression pinched with frustration. “It shouldn’t be like this. I don’t like the idea of going after him.”

You restrain yourself, not leaping too eagerly at the brazen remark. With the well of emotion rising in your chest, you ask, “Then why do it?”

“Because those are my orders,” he says, like it is obvious.

“What if those orders are wrong?” you say.

“They’re the king’s orders,” Changbin says, not quite an argument, not quite an agreement.

“Yes,” you say. “And the king is heaven’s earthly sovereign, who rules us all by the will of the gods. But what if those orders are not actually coming from the gods?”

Changbin’s expression abruptly shifts to panic. You realize the king must be nearby. Changbin’s reaction is too late to spare you.

The king shouts your name like it is a blasphemous slur. The scream is imbued with so much fury, it sounds as though he means an exorcise a demon.

Although you told yourself you were resigned to his wickedness, the terror of that voice makes your whole body shake. Bravery is much easier in theory, a whispered voice in the back of your head that extends no further than stolen words in shadows, but it is different to stare down a hateful man whose cruelty knows no bounds.

You turn to face the king, grateful for the length of your skirt as it hides your trembling legs. You summon your many years of etiquette practice, feigning the most stoic countenance you possibly can.

The king gets right in your face, screaming so loudly it blows a loose curl out of its pin.

“You have the audacity to blaspheme against your king?”

A deathly hush has fallen over the forest, all conversations ended. You hear nothing but the shuffle of bodies as people either retreat or approach the action. Servants make themselves scarce, courtiers gathering with eager eyes. The kingsguards swarm, abandoning their horses and forming rank with a hand on their swords. You are not sure who they mean to protect.

Chan is the only one to directly intervene, shoving through the throng to reach the king.

“Your Majesty,” he says, skidding to a halt, his black robes swishing around him. “What happened?”

“This blasphemous creature dared to question the will of gods before my people,” the king snaps.

“I did not,” you say, wrenching your voice from the nauseas pit of your gut. “I did not question the gods.”

“You have the nerve to call my authority into question?” the king asks, taking another menacing step forward.

You instinctively stumble back. Your gaze darts when you move, eyes finding the other kingsguards. Minho, Changbin, and the younger two watch the scene intently, hands on their sword hilts. Hyunjin has partially withdrawn his sword, hilt firmly in hand and a shiny length of metal catching the sunlight.

Jisung has one hand on his hilt but his grip is loose. He is the only one moving, taking tentative steps towards the scene. His wide eyes are concerned, his shoulders tensed, entire body braced. A fist uncurls, hand lifting. You are not sure if he is reaching for you or warning you.

The king is still ranting. All he does is repeat the same accusation, hurl the same slander. There is a wretched delight to his snarling ire. Because of the assassination debacle, he has been forced to feign a modicum for respect for you. Your remark serves as justification for unleashing all that contempt once more.

He calls you every foul name a man can call a woman. No doubt you are also subject to his anger for the mistress. It makes your hands curl up in fists at your side. Your trembling body is building adrenaline with every quivering shake. You think of the mistress, of Felix, of Jisung, of a cluster of crying servants, of your own body slumped in a carriage with an arrow in your heart, when all you ever wanted to do was love your people.

“I would never speak ill of the gods,” you snap. Perhaps it is your shaking or perhaps it is heavenly intervention, but you feel your voice as it thunders out of you. It reverberates in the arching trees and quakes underfoot like an earthen tremor. “Even in moments of my greatest doubt, I use them as my example in how to conduct myself. I would never speak against them. I would never act against them. I would never assume I have the perspective to rebel against their will. No matter how someone might offend me, I would not attempt to intervene on the god’s will by bringing harm anywhere near to them.”

This is in retaliation to his comments but everyone knows the attack yesterday was not just a robbery. No one is speaking the accusation aloud even though it sits on the tip of every tongue when the subject is broached. Yes, everyone here knows what the king has done, and when you make your declaration, it is all anyone hears.

Only one of you has kept your vows. Only one of you is righteous.

He backhands you, clean across the face. It lands even harder than on the wedding night. That slap burned like a hot iron welt, but this one strikes heavily. It knocks you to the ground, the earth rushing up so quickly that you cannot even catch yourself. Your cheek hits the dirt, your body crumpling on impact.

Your face is downturned but you hear the zinging slash of sword after sword as the kingsguards reveal their weapons. When you look up, you see every blade partially drawn. Hyunjin is the only one to fully draw his weapon, his sharp, intense face focussed on the king while the other guards look at Chan.

Jisung is the only one who looks at you. He does not draw his sword. His hand leaves his hilt and he runs straight towards you. He slams onto his knees with so much impact, it sends leaves and gravel flying. His hands are on you, shameless and without delay.

“My queen,” he says. He holds your shoulders, guides you upright into a sitting position.

You can barely see him through your tears, watering from the sheer physicality of such brutal pain. You face is numb so you do not even realize Jisung is wiping it clean.

His efforts accomplish very little because the king kicks you over, a sharp jab in your side that makes you cry out. It is more unexpected than the smack and makes everyone gasp.

Jisung catches you, drawing you protectively into the cradle of his arms. You imagine his face, his wide, startled eyes turned up to the king in questioning terror as he clutches the queen to his chest. You fear he will be kicked for insubordination. You press against his chest and will the world to disappear to around him.

“Are you seriously going to allow this?” Hyunjin’s voice rips through the clearing.

You turn your face, cheek pressed to Jisung’s chest. Hyunjin has stepped forward but he does not address the king, anger bright red on his handsome face as he stares at Chan.

Chan looks at him but it is the king who answers, spinning on his heel to march up to Hyunjin.

Bellowing, the king begins, “The kingsguard does not allow or disallow me anything—”

“The kingsguard has a right to intervention in the face of injustice!” Hyunjin shouts back, driving his sword into the dirt a mere foot from the king.

It draws the king to a halt, a flicker of intimidation crossing his face as he looks at the guard. He quickly shakes it off, pointing a threatening hand at Hyunjin.

“What do you dare accuse me of?” the king demands. “Do you have the audacity to make so formal a claim against me? Tell me, kingsguard! Use your rights! Make your claim! And I shall make mine, rest assured!”

Hyunjin cannot say anything more. He stares at the king, fuming. Chan was not exaggerating when he spoke of Hyunjin’s devotion to his beliefs. More than a pretty face, indeed. He does not budge an inch for the tyrant king.

While the king is distracted, Jisung helps you up. You rise on shaking legs, using his arms for leverage. He murmurs your name, not your title, so soft an utterance that no one else hears. It affects you more deeply than the king’s shouting.

Your watery eyes lift to Jisung. You are clasping his forearms for support but you want to fall against him. You have been in his arms at your most vulnerable moment, bare and open and overcome. It makes you feel like if he is close, there is no height you cannot safely reach, no harm that can ever pursue you there.

With your eyes locked so reverently on Jisung, you do not see the king approach until too late. You turn your face as he throws Hyunjin an arrogant, challenging look.

The king reels back and punches you. It is clumsy and too emotional, his anger getting the better of him, so it lands with less force than intended. You still feel it right down to your toes, a shock of awful pain. You are not sure what actually hurts, if he hits your nose or you bite your own cheek, but you taste blood, tangy and metallic on your lips and tongue. Jisung catches you when you fall, keeping you upright while you spit blood onto the forest floor. If anyone gasps, you cannot hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Hyunjin instantly explodes. He attacks the king with his bare hands, his swing far cleaner, a swift punch that strikes the royal face so hard, it makes a cracking sound. Hyunjin is lean but strong and the king reels upon impact.

Hyunjin does not let him recuperate. He lands another blow, then one more, coming at a different angle each time. The king hits the ground on the third punch, landing with a humiliating scream and thud.

Everyone is chattering and shrieking now, even the most eager courtiers retreating from the violence. Minho and Seungmin spring into action, charging Hyunjin before he can chase the king to the ground.

“Hold him back!” Chan shouts at them. Like everyone else, pure shock delayed him.

Minho and Seungmin seize Hyunjin by the arms, hauling him away from the king while he froths with anger. The king recoils from him, then starts to rage because he has been so humiliated. Hyunjin shouts back and there is so much piercing chaos that you hardly make sense of it.

“This ends now!” Chan shouts above it all. He does not need to draw his sword or swing his fist to command obedience.

Hyunjin finally goes silent, shrugging Minho and Seungmin away. Even the king ceases his hollering to spit blood onto the ground.

Your own mouth is still streaked red. Chan looks at you, his hard expression softening.

“Your Majesty, are you okay?” he asks.

The king begins to answer, a furious exclamation that he is obviously not okay, then he realizes Chan is speaking to you.

“How dare you address that creature—” the king begins.

“That creature is the gods-chosen queen!” Chan snaps back. Where Hyunjin and the king raged with a red hot fire, Chan is cold, the harsh narrowing of his eyes speaking for him. It cuts across the clearing. Everything, high and mighty or low to earth, seems to bend in acquiescence. “The queen is not to be struck under any circumstances,” Chan says, a hand on his sword hilt, his eyes on the king. “I am making a formal accusation against you as I just witnessed the offense with my own eyes.”

The silence is more deafening than the chaos. You watch as Chan shakes his head. His booted steps roll like thunder on the dirt as he approaches you. His arm is outstretched, a word on his lips, but he is interrupted by the king.

“I want the guard flogged.”

Chan freezes. His back is to the king and all the courtiers, guards, and servants. Only you and Jisung see the flash of fury, barely tempered as Chan clenches his jaw then draws a breath.

“Hyunjin is a kingsguard and the gods spoke to him,” Chan says, frighteningly calm. “They told him to defend the queen who should never have been struck so carelessly.”

“And for that I won’t have his head removed,” the king snaps. He spits blood on the ground again, looking at Hyunjin as he does. Hyunjin stares back but has the sense to not act again. The king lacks any and all sense. No sense of duty, no sense of responsibility. He points at Hyunjin like an infant points at a child, stamping his foot and crying to his parents of some petty, childish plight. “Twenty lashes,” the king demands. “Ten for each time beyond this so-called defense he dared laid his hand against the holy king.”

Chan turns. He looks at Hyunjin. Hyunjin stares back, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between them. You see the calculation, the surrender. Chan shakes his head and Hyunjin clenches his jaw.

Your hand twitches at your side, instinctively searching for Jisung. He finds it and clasps it, hiding your joined hands between his robes and your dress.

“Jisung,” you whisper.

“It’s all right,” Jisung whispers back. Despite his words, he sounds upset. “Hyunjin can take it.”

In proof, Hyunjin does not await further instruction. He rips at his outer robe, tearing it off his body and dropping it in a heap on the forest floor.

“Jeongin,” Chan says. “Get me a horsewhip.”

You jolt. Jisung squeezes your hand, holding you back and shushing you gently. You watch with your heart in your throat as Hyunjin tugs off his under-shirt. He drops to his knees where he stands, Minho and Seungmin backing away, their faces plastered with practiced stoic looks. Seungmin betrays only a hint of thought, shaking his head an infinitesimal degree as he backs away. Minho flashes Jisung a look of similar aggravation.

You still taste blood, even when you wipe your mouth with a shaking hand.

Hyunjin prostrates himself on the ground, a full bow as if at prayer. Chan has the whip in his hands and he snaps it open at his side. You do not know if your eyes water from pain or sorrow.

The king stands nearby, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. You look at him as Chan swings an expert arm and brings the whip down. The king does not flinch at the first crack, his pompous self-satisfaction only deepening.

You jump at the sound of the whip, eyes racing back to Hyunjin. There is a welt across his skin, his back pale as it is never exposed beneath those layers of black. Despite all the jests made at his expense, Hyunjin does not remove those robes for anything. He keeps his vows with an unrelenting determination. He is a good kingsguard. It is not his fault he has a bad king.

“Stop,” you say.

Jisung tries to hold you back but you drop his hand. You are still dizzy and speaking with a mouth full of blood, but you march onward. The king is probably looking at you with all that heated aggravation but you do not care. You look at Chan, the only authority you respect.

“Hyunjin was defending me,” you say. “He acted on my behalf. I will take his punishment.”

There are immediate protests, not just from the kingsguards but from servants and even scandalized courtiers. Their vocal protestations make chaotic discord, the forest shaking with every shout and holler.

You hear Jisung above the rest.

“Chan!” he says. “Don’t you let her, Chan! Chan!”

You and Chan are the only ones who remain silent, staring each other down. You are perfectly calm as you hold the leader’s gaze. He looks at you like he is reading a book in a language he did not even know existed, scrutinizing the shape and sound of everything foreign that lies in front of him.

“Silence!” the king finally shouts, curtailing the worst of the chaos. He marches over to you, hand out like he intends to grab you. “Stand down, woman! You’ve caused enough problems today!”

You storm towards him too, wiping the blood off your face with such a flourish that it flicks towards him. He takes a step back, so surprised by your approach that he almost trips over his own feet.

“Am I not correct in saying that a citizen has the right to stand in for another when a punishment has been issued?” you ask.

“You are not a citizen, you fool, you are the queen,” the king snaps.

“Oh, so now there’s some fucking rules about propriety!” you snap back. “Punching me in the face did not account for it, but this does? I am curious where your lines are drawn, Your Majesty, and which gods drew them, as they certainly do not resemble any teachings I know.”

The look on the king’s face is more satisfying than any welt or punch.

“Enough,” Chan says, not raising his voice. He drops the horsewhip to the ground and Hyunjin lifts his head. “This has gone on long enough,” Chan says firmly. “We have a long journey to make today. This was a petty disagreement and a misunderstanding, and it is an insult to the gods and all of us present to draw it out any longer. Hyunjin, get up. You’ll spend the night in prayer asking the gods for forgiveness for any slights they perceived. Accept their revelation and be done with this. Everyone, back in formation. Now.”

Finally, the crowd disperses, speaking lowly amongst themselves as they return to their former tasks.

Chan faces the king. In the same tone, he demands, “You too, Your Majesty.”

The king boils with such a quiet, fiery rage that you are amazed he does not burst. Chan does not relent in the face of his threats, standing firm until the king storms away. Once he is gone, your own adrenaline cools. Your legs feel weak again. You stumble.

Jisung catches you. His arm swings wide, catching your waist and drawing you into him.

“She’s still bleeding,” Jisung says.

“Take her,” Chan says, nodding sharply. “Get cleaned up. Meet back at the horses soon. He’s not going to be in the mood to wait.” Chan rolls his eyes and turns away.

You and Jisung are the only ones left. You are standing very close and you know you should move but you want to be closer.

Jisung takes a step, guiding you towards the sound of the river. When you try to separate, he pulls you back into his side, that hidden strength revealing itself. Your feet skirt the ground as he practically carries you the riverside, like if he lets go for a second the gods will sweep you away from him.

Jisung holds the briars as you cross through dense brush. The riverbank is on the other side. You step onto the gravel bed, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel separated from the world again at last.

Jisung touches your lower back, just a press of his fingertips to get your attention. It certainly works as sparks shoot up your spine as if he traced the length of it. Despite the sensation, his hand is still and steady, his palm on your lower back as he nudges you towards the water.

Earlier, he could not bring himself to look at you. Now you are the one hiding your gaze. After a tumultuous day of warring with yourself, of provocations and retreats, accusations and regrets, you feel tired and unsure, hurt and embarrassed.

“What were you thinking?” Jisung asks.

You simultaneously kneel at the river’s edge, the cool fresh water lapping at the edge of his robe and your skirt. It is paid no heed. You gather water in the cup of your hands, bringing it to your face in a gentle splash. The water runs pink as it spills over your lips. You scrub your mouth on the sleeve of your dress.

“It doesn’t matter what I do, does it?” you ask. “It doesn’t matter if I follow every rule he makes or if I break them in front of him. He is going to hurt me. He is going to find ways to justify it.”

Jisung is still bad at hiding his emotions, looking at you with sad, shiny eyes, his face long with sorrow.

You spare him a momentary glance, too affected by his empathy. It would be easier if he did not care. It would be easier if he did not look at you. It would be easier if he did not gather every undone curl to pull them back over your shoulder.

It makes you shiver like the first time. That chill is swallowed by heat as you remember him looking at you through that mirror, drawing your hair off your shoulders, firelight warm against your naked skin as he choked on his breathing.

Even now, his hand lingers on the back of your neck, then your shoulder, your arm. Every touch is just a second too long. He looks at his hand like it belongs to someone else, curling his fingers towards his palm like they hurt.

“My queen,” he says, not much louder than a whisper.

“You can use my name,” you say, just as quiet.

The roar of the river makes you bold. You are alone but even if you were interrupted, you could never be overheard. It makes everything feel so natural, so right, like the gods themselves have aligned the world in such a way that you would be here with him at this exact moment. Yet at the same time, that is impossible. The gods chose you for the king. It was you who chose Jisung.

“I know,” he says. With a laugh, airy and humourless, he runs a hand through his hair and says, “Believe me, I know.”

His eyes are drawn to your mouth because you missed some blood. You fold your hands neatly in your lap, the very picture of lady-like perfection if not for your bloodied lips and the aching swell of your cheek.

Jisung cups water into his own palm. With one hand, he holds your face, thumb and forefinger curled around your chin to tilt your head. He brings the water to your lips and pours as neatly as he can.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers. “I mean, you’re crazy— Fuck, I shouldn’t say that to the queen – Fuck, I swore again – don’t listen to me – Your Majesty, with all due respect, you’re just—”

He laughs, truly and deeply, wiping blood off your cheek while you stifle your own giggles.

The ordeal is still too fresh to have any perspective, but you suspect you will be reeling later tonight as you remember your own adrenaline-fueled actions.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you that,” he teases.

“Our secret,” you say, smiling.

His eyes are on your cheek, his thumb scrubbing a mark. When you say that, his gaze flicks to yours.

Your whole body reacts to his eyes. You feel – tight, clenching, stomach twisting with heat. There is at once an impossible emptiness at the centre of your being and also a penetrating fulfillment as he looks at you so intensely that you feel it deep inside of you. You think the king could come to your chamber every night, could do whatever he would, and it would not feel half so thorough a claiming as one glance from Han Jisung.

“I, um, oh. Oh.” Jisung shakes his head. He looks down, hair falling into his eyes as he swoops over to cup some more water. He still holds your chin with his other hand, fingers loosely clasped.

He straightens, tossing his hair out of his eyes, focussed on your lips.

You know it is just because he is cleaning the residual blood, but his searching glance moves through you. It deepens when he wets your lips, as he lets that little bit of water pour off his skin and onto your mouth.

Your lips part, trusting. His fingers on your chin tremble just a bit. When he exhales, it flutters through a loose curl.

“Thank you,” you murmur, lips moving against his fingers.

“Your Majesty.” He tries to be jovial and laugh but it comes out like a croak. “It’s why I’m here,” he says in a voice that sounds as rough as it did the other night. “I’m supposed to serve you. And… And I…”

His thumb runs slowly across your bottom lip, his eyes entranced with the way it gives under his touch, where it softly springs back. Your breath spills over his fingers and he swallows.

“And…” he tries again, breathing deeply when you do.

“And?” you say on that breath.

His gaze moves from your lips to your eyes. He drops one hand as if startled, fumbling for nothing, accidentally finding yours in its descent. You clasp that hand in your lap, heart racing as he so tightly curls his fingers around yours. It is such a desperate clutch, but it does not hurt. No, it never hurts.

“And…” he says, those other fingers still curled under your chin. It would make any defense impossible, his fingers so obviously guiding your face closer to his own. His mouth is a breath away, every exhale soft against your lips. “And I want to serve you, my queen,” he says in a soft, low murmur. “I need to serve you.”

You make a noise that could be mistaken for pain, wounded and sharp, but it is not that. It is the sound you make when you draw your kiss-wet fingers down your own throat, the way his damp fingers now trace that same descent. You tilt your head, offering him all that vulnerable skin, shivering under the long, slow touch.

He recognizes that sound too. He heard you make it two nights ago. You remember him looking at you just like this. You remember him slouching in that chair by the fire while you dreamed of nothing more than kneeling before him. What would you even do from that vantage? You do not know. You just know it beckons to you like a call from above.

“Oh,” you say, trembling for a very different reason than earlier. “Jisung,” you whisper, “I want to serve you too.”

It is that remark that petrifies him, his hand freezing, his eyes wide. He stares at your neck like it is more dangerous than a sword-hand. A million complicated thoughts seem to flash across his face.

His fingers splay open across your throat, your pulse beating under his hand. You swallow.

“What are you doing to me?” he breathes.

Then his fingers are under your chin again. Your faces come close. His lips are near yours but it is not a kiss, just the promise of one, so painfully close to kissing that your mouths brush with the slightest twitch or breath. Still, he does not close the space entirely. He leans into it like he will but then he collapses with a pained whimper, abruptly letting go, turning his face to the side.

“Fuck,” he says. He puts a hand over his face and shakes his head.

You turn your face the other way, closing your eyes too and breathing hard. You also touch your face, fingers shaking as you touch your unkissed lips, still tingling from the proximity.

Your other hand is in your lap. It is still tightly clasped around his.

“Oh gods,” he says.

“Yes,” you say. “I feel them too whenever you’re near.”

You look at each other. His mouth opens, some sentiment on his lips that is desperate to be uttered but he only manages to move his lips a few times before surrendering to muteness. He stands. With a gentle tug, he brings you with him.

The river laps at your feet. There is a swirl of pink where your blood spilled. You look at it for a long moment.

“In the banquet hall,” you say, watching the pink wash away. “In the wedding ceremony. On the road. In that inn.” You lift your eyes to his. “I felt it everywhere,” you say. “The gods, or just you, all around me, like nothing I have ever felt before.”

You lift his hands, bringing them to your lips as he did last night. He just stands there, watching as you kiss his knuckles with the same devoted press. Where he was all desperate teeth and lips, you are tender, a soft kiss that lingers on his knuckles, scraped and scarred from so much work.

“These hands are a testament to years of hard work, kingsguard,” you say. You give his hands one final squeeze before letting go. “They should be worshipped too.”

He makes a sound you can only describe as a comical squeak. Your sweet, complicated, funny guard. Big eyes blink at you as you step back.

“Shall we?” you say, nodding to the brush, to the world that waits on the other side.

He nods, still too stunned to speak, staring at you as if in a trance. You bow your head to him, clasping your hands politely in front of you. You turn to leave.

You have only taken one step when you feel his hand on the back of your neck. It sends a bolt of fire shooting down your whole body. Your heart, moments ago doused with cold water, comes roaring back to life, firing heat to every extremity.

He wraps his arm in a possessive grip around your waist, just like before, but more. The other hand stays on the back of your neck, buried in your half-pinned hair, leaving it even more dishevelled.

The state of your hair is a perfect visual metaphor for what you feel inside: unravelled, undone.

He pulls you right into him. His name has scarcely left your lips before he swallows the sound, mouth pressed to yours in a hot, hungry kiss. His lips, his tongue, his teeth, all of it there, soft and hard and needy.

A kiss is the most you ever received in your life, a cordial exchange that amounted to nothing.

But this –

This is everything.

“Jisung,” you say, like begging, almost a cry against his mouth before he steals the sound again.

You are both clumsy from lack of practice, or maybe lack of time. You are desperate to feel everything in the few moments afforded to you. There are lifetimes of desire packed into that kiss, eternities surrendered to the passionate press of his lips on yours.

He breathes your name, cups your jaw, tilts your face just so, kissing you slowly despite the ticking clock. You shiver and hum a sweet, amorous sound against his lips. The taste of blood is long gone, replaced with him. Just Jisung, on your lips and your tongue. You want it everywhere else.

You would give yourself to him if he asked. You would forget about everything and do it the moment he asked.

Fortunately, he has more sense than that. He lets you go, takes a small step back. He breathes unevenly while raking his fingers through his hair.

“We can’t do that again, okay?” he says.

You blink at him. It must be a convincing argument because he groans then grabs you by the hips and pulls you back into him. He kisses you again, mouth open against yours, coaxing all those tender sounds you did not know you could make. It feels wet and messy and it should be awful, this frantic animal hunger, but it just feels good.

You just – feel.

“Okay,” he gasps. He clutches your waist, holds your body in his hands and counts under his breath. Finally, he steps back, nudging you away from him. “Okay,” he says, wiping his mouth and shaking his head. “That’s fine. That was – that was just. Exactly, you’re so right. Yes. All right. Very fine. Very good.”

He clears his throat, adjusting his black robes neatly like he did not just ravage your mouth in his holy garments. He tips his head back and stares up at the sky, holding the briars back for you, pointedly not looking down even when you approach.

You could walk right past him. You should walk right past.

You lean towards him and whisper, “I thought of you again last night.”

You step through the brush. You listen as he somehow slams them all in his own face, sputtering as he fights through the greenery to join you. He shakes himself out like nothing happened.

“Right,” he says. “Right. Right. Right. Go.” He points ahead.

You walk a few paces ahead. He escorts you back to Chan. When you are perched on the horse, you look back over your shoulder, once more intending just a fleeting glance. Jisung is already looking at you, fingertips pressed to his bottom lip. He lowers his hand.

You smile softly. Like something heaven-sent, he smiles back.

#han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #han jisung x you #jisung x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x reader #skz x you #kpop fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year ago

Note

Reader is Eddie’s first relationship & they have an argument. He thinks they’re gonna break up, but she introduces him to the joys of makeup sex. You. Are. Welcome.

xoxoxoxo, @munson-blurbs 💚

Thank. You. Anything for you, my darlin’ 💜

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, f receiving

Words: 2.5k

“Eddie, I swear to God, you need to stop being so dramatic about this! I love your theatrics but now you’re just making shit up in your head!”

“In my head? In my head? Seeing the two of you whispering together in the library was not in my head.”

“For Christ’s sake!” you shout, your hands coming up to rake through your hair. “We had to whisper; it was a fucking library!”

“I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie says, hands coming to rest on his hips as his jaw clenches. Your groan reverberates within the trailer walls.

“I can’t help the way he looks at me! If he’s even looking at me in some way at all. But I’m not looking at him in any way. We’re partners on a project, that’s it!”

“I don’t want you to be his partner anymore,” Eddie says, shrugging as if this is a reasonable request.

“Eddie, I didn’t pick him as my partner. O’Donnell assigned them. And we’re almost done with our project! I’m not asking to change now.”

“Even if it makes your boyfriend uncomfortable?” Eddie hisses.

“What, so I’m supposed to get a bad grade just because you’re jealous? Fuck that. I plan on passing O’Donell’s class the first time.” It’s a low blow and you know it. But his jealousy is driving you up the wall and you can’t help but snap.

“Maybe wear a goddamn shirt that you don’t have to pull up every thirty seconds then. You’re giving everyone at school a fucking show every day.”

“So, I just want everyone in the whole damn school to sleep with me, huh? Is that it?”

“That’s not what I fucking said,” Eddie spits out.

“Then what are you saying? By saying that I’m cozying up to Kevin? By saying I’m flashing my tits to everyone at school?”

Eddie smacks his hand against the kitchen counter and turns his back to you.

“Eddie,” you say with a sigh, shaking your head. “I need a break. I need a fucking break.” You grab your boyfriend’s pack of cigarettes from the counter and head towards the front door so you can grab a smoke.

“So, that’s it, huh?”

The wobble in Eddie’s voice has you stopping in your tracks. When you turn to face him, you see him watching you with a set jaw, angry facade spoiled by the unshed tears building up in his eyes.

“What?” you ask.

“Need a break?” Eddie scoffs and shakes his head. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“Eddie,” you say with a frown. “I’m going for a smoke break. What’s the big deal? I forgot my own pack, so I grabbed yours. You don’t want me to use ‘em? Fine.” You toss the pack back on the counter and rest your hands on your hips.

“Wait,” Eddie says. His face changes from angry to open and vulnerable. “Y-You’re not…breaking up with me?” The tear that slides down his face has your heart cracking in your chest.

“Baby, what?” you ask, taking a few steps closer to him. “Why would you think I’m breaking up with you?”

“You, um.” Eddie pauses and sniffs. Quickly, he wipes at his eyes. “You said you needed a break.”

“From the fight,” you tell him. “Not from you, Eddie. Sweetheart, I love you. I’m not breaking up with you.”

Eddie nods his head, but you can tell he’s still scared. “Hey…” You step forward and cup his face in your hands. “Eddie, it’s just a fight. They happen, it’s normal. That doesn’t mean we break up over it.”

“I’ve never, um…never,” Eddie trails off before clearing his throat. “This is new to me. My first relationship.”

“I know.” You slip your arms around his lithe waist and rest your head on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me going anywhere though, baby. S’just a fight.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around you as well.

“It’s okay, you just misunderstood me,” you say.

“No, I-I meant for what I said before. About what you wear and being partners with Kevin. I was being an asshole.”

“I should’ve been more considerate of your feelings,” you say, tilting your head to press a kiss to his neck.

“No, I should’ve done that with you.”

“We can both be in the wrong,” you say.

“I love you,” Eddie says. The words still make you smile, no matter how many times you’ve heard them before.

“I love you, too. And now…” You pick your head up and give your boyfriend a salacious smirk. “I get to introduce you to another part of relationships.”

“What’s that?” Eddie asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

You slide your hands down to his and tug him as you walk backwards towards his room.

“Make up sex.”

“Oh?” Eddie’s voice takes on a higher pitch as both of his eyebrows jettison into his hair. “Is this different than other sex?”

“Well, when we’re done, you can tell me.”

You pull your hands out from his, bringing them to the hem of your shirt and whipping it off over your head. Eddie groans and lunges at you, grabbing your hips and tossing you over his shoulder. The only sound is your ferocious giggling as you’re carried over and plopped down on the bed. Instantly, you’re reaching up and pulling Eddie’s mouth down onto yours. He moans as he sinks into the kiss, lowering his body onto yours, pressing you between him and the mattress. Your fingers wind their way into your boyfriend’s curls, scratching at his scalp and gently tugging at the roots. This spurs Eddie on, rolling his hips against yours, the denim of his jeans rubbing the denim of yours.

“Need you,” Eddie says, voice low and gruff, as he separates his mouth from yours. Fingers digging into your sides, Eddie presses hot kisses against your jaw. The sensation of his heavy body on top of yours and his dizzying kisses down your neck has you arching your back. It makes your bra-clad breasts brush against Eddie’s shirt.

“Take this off,” you pant, tugging at the worn material of his Dio tee.

“Yes ma’am,” Eddie whispers against your skin. He pushes himself up, a knee bracketing each side of your thighs. No matter how many times you’ve seen him strip his shirt off, it still gives you butterflies and makes you all giggly.

“You’re so sexy,” you say as you slide your hands up his bare chest. The smirk that he gazes down at you with makes him even sexier.

Eddie grabs one of your hands and presses a kiss to your palm. “Not as sexy as you, my love.” Reluctantly letting go of you, he slides down your body and pops the buttons on your jeans. The pace at which he drags them down your legs is agonizing. Assisting him by kicking them off, Eddie quickly yanks your panties off and tosses them to fall somewhere behind him.

“Jesus, I need to taste you, baby.” Eddie pushes your legs apart as he slowly lowers himself down to rest on his elbows.

“Please do,” you whine, dropping your head back on the pillow.

Licking his lips and eyes gleaming like he’s looking at a pile of presents on Christmas morning, Eddie leans in and licks a stripe up your folds. A whimper is punched from your chest as Eddie nudges your clit with his nose.

“Eddie, yes.”

The way you say his name has his painfully hard cock twitching in his pants. Desperate for some friction, Eddie ruts his hips against the mattress as he dives in for another taste of your drenched pussy.

“So fucking wet,” Eddie mumbles. “All for me.”

“All f’you,” you echo, eyes drifting closed. “You make me soaked, Eds.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums against you, sending the vibrations up your core. “Taste so sweet, baby. How’s such a pretty pussy also taste so damn good?”

Eddie knows talking about your pussy only turns you on even further, and he’s determined to get you as wet as he can. The sound of your whimpering has him smirking against your folds. He pushes your legs open even further so he can press his face deeper into your heat. His tongue makes its way from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck,” you whine.

Encouraged by the sounds of pleasure falling from your lips, Eddie sucks your sensitive nub into his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you fisting his cream colored sheets between your delicate fingers. Your thighs tense up beneath his hands and Eddie knows what you’re going to say before you even open your mouth.

“M’close.”

Humming encouragingly around your clit, your boyfriend slips one hand down between your legs and slides two fingers inside of you. It’s exactly what you need—and he knows this. Back arching off the bed, your thighs close around Eddie’s head as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes practically roll into the back of your skull as Eddie pumps his fingers in time with his sucking.

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the room and Eddie pulls his mouth from you as your back falls back down to the sheets. You tilt your head down to watch Eddie push himself up, licking over his lips that are covered in your slick. His chin is soaked as well, and the sight already has the area between your legs throbbing again.

“How was that, baby?” Eddie asks as he crawls back up your body.

“Holy shit,” you pant out between breaths. Your mind searches for the words to express how amazing he just made you feel, but you come up empty. A self-satisfied smirk grows on Eddie’s face at your inability to speak.

“Mm, my pretty girl,” Eddie hums, running his nose up to the sensitive spot behind your ear. “Love hearing all those noises you make.”

“Make me feel so good, Eds,” you moan. “Need you in me.”

Eddie places a trail of kisses down your neck as he slips his hand beneath you to pop open your bra. His deft fingers pick the clasp and you’re quick to fling the offending material off the side of the bed.

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Eddie growls against your skin. Your hands bump into his as both of you reach down to unbuckle his belt. He huffs a laugh as he rests his forehead against yours, letting you take care of the belt while he pops the button of his jeans. As eager as you are to have him inside of you, Eddie’s quick to shuck off the pants and align his hips with yours.

Agonizingly slowly, he pushes inside of you, the stretch burning a fire low in your belly. Eddie braces a forearm on either side of your head and dives in to envelop your mouth with his own. The two of you moan and whimper into one another’s mouths as Eddie bottoms out. When he pulls his hips back and slams into you again, your hands come up to grip at his shoulders. Your fingers dig so hard into his pale skin that you’re sure he’s going to have ten small bruises there tomorrow.

“God, I’ll never get over how tight you are,” Eddie mumbles against your mouth. He’s starting to understand what you meant about makeup sex. The adrenaline is still pumping through his body from being angry. The love he feels for you is overwhelming, glad the two of you have made up. But there’s still that touch of possessiveness from his earlier jealousy that has him pounding into you hard enough that you’ll remember who you belong to.

“Oh! Fuck! Right there, Eddie.”

The way you say his name is music to his ears and he wants to make you scream it over and over again. He picks up the pace of his hips, hitting that special spot inside of you with each thrust.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie taunts. “I want the whole damn trailer park to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“You, Eddie. Fuck, you.”

“That’s right,” he groans.

“Baby,” you whine, “wanna be on top. Wanna ride you.”

“Whatever you want, angel.”

Eddie pulls out of you and flops down next to you on his back. Neither of you wanting to be separated for too long, you hurry to climb on top of him and lower yourself onto his cock. When you’re fully seated on him, you start to rock your hips back and forth. The new angle lets you feel him in a new way and the friction of the coarse curls at his base against your clit makes you dizzy with pleasure.

Watching you ride him, your hips moving back and forth, your tits bouncing with the motion, has Eddie biting his lip to keep his impending release back. He doesn’t want this to end yet; but you feel so damn good.

“Shit, baby, please tell me you’re close,” Eddie pleads.

“Uh huh,” you hum, nodding your head. “S-So close.”

“Fuck,” he grumbles.

You rest your hands on Eddie’s chest as you move your hips against his. With each rock you feel yourself coming closer to tipping over the edge. Little whines and whimpers start to spill from your mouth, and it has Eddie gripping your hips as if his hands were a vice.

“E-Eddie… Gonna cum.”

“Let go for me, baby girl. Cream my cock,” Eddie goads through clenched teeth. His hands begin to help move your hips and the added pressure of your clit dragging against his body is all you need.

“Shit,” you cry, throwing your head back as your second orgasm of the night strikes. Your walls clench around Eddie, which is all it takes to have him spilling inside of you.

“Jesus Christ, yes,” he groans, hips bucking wildly up into you. Stars dance in his vision as he empties himself in your pussy. Your bodies rock together, riding out your highs.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh out, flopping forward onto Eddie’s chest. Both of your sweat melds together as he wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Eddie rasps, trying to catch his breath.

You tilt your head so you’re looking up at your boyfriend. He meets your eyes and it’s impossible for you not to give him a goofy grin. It’s just the effect Eddie has on you.

“So, what do you think of makeup sex?” you ask.

Eddie sighs and rubs a hand up and down your back. “I’m torn. I hate fighting with you…but shit that was hot.”

Giggles bubble out of you, and you bury your face into his sticky chest.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you, too.” He tilts your chin up so he can press a soft kiss against your lips.

“I promise the next time I piss you off—because it’s impossible that there won’t be a next time—I’ll make sure the sex is worth it.”

“You say that like all sex with you isn’t worth it,” Eddie says with a scoff.

“Mm, fine,” you say, pushing yourself up off his chest. “Guess I’ll just have to buy some lingerie or something then.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and it takes all your strength to hold in your laughter.

“Okay, now baby, I’m not saying I want you to piss me off… Hey! What’d you bite me for?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #request

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ihavenolife346 · 2 months ago

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My own peace

Pairing: 2006!James Hetfeild x f!reader

Summary: James really just needed to relax after a bad day, he was tired, and just done with life. He just needed her, even if he didn’t have the energy for anything.

Warnings: some swearing, smut (to a degree), Cockwarming, only slight hint of Somnophilia.

James was just done with life for the day. Everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong for him. Lars was arguing with him all day, Bob just seemed to want to pick a fight with him, a few of his guitar strings broke, he was just done with life for the day. He wanted to just go home, lay down, and just hold his girlfriend. Though he knew they had dinner plans for the night, he didn’t want to disappoint her, he knew she was excited, but my lord he didn’t have the energy for anything at all.

From the second he walked in the door, his eyes immediately went to Y/N who was just peacefully sitting on the couch and reading one of her books. “God she’s gorgeous” he thought to himself when he realized how nice her hair looked, he could tell she got herself all dolled up, he knew she was excited to go out for the night, he was just telling himself to push through the night.

When she heard the door close, she finished reading the page she was on before she turned her head and looked over her shoulder once James started walking over to her. She could just tell he was exhausted from the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders were slight slumped, but a genuine smile crawled onto her face the second she saw him. “Hi baby…” she greeted with a happy tone when he walked up behind the couch and leaned over her a bit.

James gently put his hand on her chin, tilting her head back a bit to properly look at her even if she was looking at him upside down, a tired but happy smile falling on his face as he glanced over the beautiful white dress she had been wearing, “hi sweet girl…you look beautiful…” James spoke in a soft murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to the girl’s forehead.

When she heard just how tired he sounded, she almost immediately realized he probably didn’t wanna go out tonight. “Thank you baby…you tired?” She questioned, her head falling back against the couch to keep looking up at him.

James let out a quiet sigh, nodding ever so slightly, trying to cover up just how tired he actually was. “Just a bit…but I’ll be ready to go here in about 15 minutes or so.” James gently patted her cheek, making the girl nod softly, placing another kiss on her forehead before he stood back upright and heading upstairs without another word.

As excited as she was about going out for the night, she knew he had a bad day, and probably just wanted to stay home. She really just cared more about him feeling ok and for them both to actually having a good time instead of him forcing himself to go out just for her sake. Once she heard their bedroom door shut, she set her book down on the coffee table and grabbed out her phone, finding the restaurant’s number within seconds. She made the choice the second he was upstairs to go ahead and cancel for the night and just let him relax. She simply just explained to the lady who picked up her call that plans changed and they couldn’t make their reservation, and decided to just reschedule for a night she knew for a fact James wasn’t to busy on.

_________________________

James had taken what he thought was just a second to lay down on their bed and close his eyes once he had gotten upstairs, just trying to get his mind to shut off and his body to relax even for just 5 minutes before he started getting ready. He had only opened his eyes once he heard their bedroom door open and shut quietly, almost immediately starting to panic that he may of actually fallen asleep and they would be lays to their reservation. “Shit, I’m sorry baby, I just need like 5 minutes then I’ll be ready.” James rambled when he saw her standing at the doorway with that same smile on her face, almost immediately shooting up from his laying down position.

She almost immediately shook her head softly, wandering over to their bed and sitting down on the edge of the bed next to where he was sitting, gently pushing his shoulder back down so he’d lay down. “I canceled the reservation…rescheduled for next Saturday…” she muttered, her hand gently stroking his cheek for a second.

Hearing that she had rescheduled their reservation, he almost immediately felt terrible about it. She looked so beautiful with her hair done the way it was, the makeup she put on, and that beautiful white dress he got her a few weeks prior, “aw beautiful…you didn’t have too…I can be ready in just a few.” James muttered apologetically, one of his hands reaching up to keep the hand she was caressing his cheek with against his skin.

She shook her head softly again, a small smile still on her face, “you’re tired…I know you are…and I know you’re not that busy next Saturday…nothing to feel bad about, just pushing back dinner is all.” She reassured with a gentle tone, leaning down and pressing a quick peck to his nose. “Besides…cuddles all night? It’s a win win for me either way.” She snickered quietly, making it clear that she wasn’t gonna take an argument but still at least wanted cuddles, pulling her hand away from his face for only a moment just so she could get up and get changed into something more comfortable.

James let out a quite chuckle, honestly having to have much different plans for them for the night for after they got home, but god he was just grateful that she canceled and that he could just hold her for the night. Though he still felt bad about not taking her out, or making her feel good like he planned to, or having to have her change plans after knowing she was excited, he didn’t have the energy to really argue it at all. He watched as he went over to the bathroom, assuming she was going to take off her makeup, eventually deciding to just go ahead and get comfortable. James slipped off his t-shirt and jeans, leaving him in just his boxers before he just laid back down on top of their blankets, just waiting for her to come back.

Within two or three minutes, Y/N came wandering back into their bedroom, her makeup off and hair back to just being down, reaching behind her to unzip her dress as she wandered over to their dresser. James’s eyes almost immediately went over to her the second she came back into the bedroom, still feeling bad that he really didn’t have much energy to do anything for her. Staring at her for a second as she rummaged through the dresser, he got an idea that he figured he could at least try. “Hey sweet girl…C’mere.” James mumbled out tiredly, moving a bit so his back was against the pillows and he was somewhat sitting upright, reaching out a hand for her.

Y/N glanced back over her shoulder when she heard him pipe up, unzipping her dress before she turned and walked back over to where he was laying. “Yea baby…?” She questioned softly, placing her hand in his.

James laced his fingers with hers the second she placed her hand in his, his free hand reaching up to gently tug on one of the straps of her dress to try and pull it down. “Get this off…” James murmured softly, looking up at her with an apocalyptic yet happy look.

Y/N looked at him a bit curiously, but did as told and took her hand out of his for a moment to slip her dress off, leaving her in her panties and bra in front of him before she laced her fingers back with his. James let his eyes wander over her body for a moment, a very fond look on his face before he gently tugged on her hand, making her sit back down on the edge of the bed. Even though he really did just wanna sleep, he still wanted to at least do something for her. “Good girl…now c’mere…” James murmured, reaching out and grabbing onto her thighs and moved her so she was straddling his lap.

Y/N let out a soft giggle when he moved her onto his lap, letting herself get comfortable with her legs on either side of his thighs. “Whatcha doing baby…?” She questioned softly, her hands eventually slowly trailing up and down his chest.

“Just let me do something for ya…” James murmured, doing this both for her and himself, gently lifting her up just a bit to slip his cock out of his boxers while his other hand moved her panties to the side. He just wanted to feel close to her, he wanted to hold her and at least love on her for the night. James didn’t even give her a second to say anything before he lined himself up with her entrance and slowly sank her down onto his hardening cock, a quiet groan leaving her lips within seconds.

Y/N knew from the second he lifted her up a bit and she felt her panties get moved aside, she knew what he wanted and honestly she was more than happy to comply. She let out a soft, quiet moan when she felt his cock slide inside her and bottomed out, feeling that warmth she always felt when he touched her pool between her legs just from that one motion, her head almost immediately falling onto his shoulder, “god-baby…” she whined quietly, growing used to the feeling of him inside her after a moment, knowing he just wanted to hold her right now and honestly, feeling him as close as he possibly could be, it made her feel warm and just happy inside.

“I Gottcha baby…” James murmured, feeling his cock harden just from being inside her. As much as he wanted to move and just fuck her and tell her how much he loved her to make up for ending up canceling dinner, he honestly felt like he could fall asleep right then and there. James brought a hand up to the back of her head, gently holding her head against his shoulder while his other arm wrapped around her middle to keep her close to him. Feeling the skin to skin contact, feeling her so close to him, and just being inside her in a completely intimate way, that was exactly what he needed after his day. “Just let me do this for you…I’m sorry I’m so tired…” James murmured softly into her ear.

“Don’t apologize…this-this is perfect…I love you…” Y/N muttered against his shoulder, honestly quite enjoying the warmth of his skin pressed against hers and feeling him inside her. She was perfectly content just sitting here for however long he wanted her too, as long as she was spending time with him she was perfectly happy, and she really couldn’t think of a better was to spend time with him at all.

“I love you too my sweet girl…” James pressed a few kisses to her shoulder before letting his head rest against hers, pretty much basking in the feeling of her in his arms and her just letting him be inside her. This was what he needed right now, he needed to feel the warmth she always provided him, he needed to feel her close to him, even if they weren’t necessarily being sexual, he just needed to feel her. James really did want to do more for her, he felt himself getting harder just from feeling how tight and wet she was around him, normally he would but he was just exhausted right now and planned to spend either the whole not or 99% of the night with his cock buried inside her and holding her close. All he knew for a fact was that he would be making up for it before she even woke up.

#metallica #james hetfield #papa het #metallica x reader #fanfic #james hetfield x reader

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lilystyles · 10 months ago

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when not in rome.

a @lilystyles blurb!

my masterlist & no strings attached masterlist & blurbs masterlist

authors note idk this was a random thing i wrote at 2AM because i just missed them, i am still working on style so don't worry that should be out soon. also this is set way before no strings, i love writing about them in their previous moments!

brief description harry surprises y/n at her graduation (also listen to love of my life by h whilst readinggg)

warnings! angsty? fluffy? drunk y/n and harry (2.1k)

younger!lhh!nostrings!h x reader

* * * * *

SIX YEARS BEFORE

University has a funny way of making you feel like you might never cross the finish line. Y/n like everyone else had multiple days where she would just sob and scream from the stress of it all. Exams were totally a torture device.

When Y/n graduated with her first degree before deciding to write her thesis Harry surprised her.

He’d been touring the world with One Direction for months now and she hadn’t seen him since Paris the year before, when he’d surprised her by flying her to join them in their Paris show and they’d had a wild few drunken nights that she felt blurred the lines of friendship into something more.

But after their few days, when the champagne ran out, and she came back home, she sobered and realised that nothing would ever happen between them. And if you spent a few nights with Harry in a limo drinking champagne and dealing with his wandering hands you too would fall for him. Just a bit. It's only natural.

She missed him, though, loads. He was one of her best friends after all.

Around a month ago they phoned each other, it was late for her and the morning for him, she’d been studying and they talked for hours catching up till the sky turned bright for her and her eyes drooped shut. The time between their phone calls had grown longer and longer now, and she missed him. She’d mentioned that she was graduating soon and that they were both supposed to be graduating if he’d stayed in Uni. She remembers them staying up late at parties discussing their futures and how post-graduation Harry was insistent that they’d still be roommates. She realised now that their dream definitely wasn’t a possibility anymore.

He’d told her that instead of being there graduating like they’d suspected he was going to be, he was in Rome at some fashion show gala thing, and his date was this sexy model named Rosalie who had her sex tape leaked a couple of months ago. She was happy for him, but a part of her couldn’t help but be disappointed. She felt like he was drifting away from her every day, but she couldn’t find in herself to be cross with him. He was swept up by the fame of it all, and how on earth could she be mad that he was literally a rockstar? She knew that he was still Harry and she was still Y/n but they weren’t Harry and Y/n anymore. Not like before.

And honestly, she’d probably leave everything and everyone behind, party all night, and sleep with sexy models too if she had the chance to be famous. But she couldn’t sing for shit. So instead she did what she was doing, and shoved her nose in a book rather than in lines off a bathroom sink, and she was rather content with the peacefulness of it all.

All thoughts of Harry were swept away from her mind when she walked across the stage in the grande hall. She was finally graduating! Thank god! She thought. She had a sash that showed she was an honours student, and she was blooming with pride, when they called her name her list of achievements was longer than the four painful years she’d spent studying in their grande libraries. She was so glad to shake the hand of one of her favourite professors and leave, the next year ahead she planned to travel and work overseas, she was excited about that.

But honestly, she was even more excited to get absolutely shit-faced at the graduation after-ball party. She found herself a few pints down, sitting by the edge of one of the fountains, when she nearly fell in at the absolutely shocking sight in front of her.

There was just no way it could be true. I mean he was in Rome, and she was drunk in London. She’d seen photos on her Twitter of him wrapping his tattooed arms around that Rosalie model girl, so how could he be here in London just like that? It was not real, surely. She must be hallucinating and the second-hand smoke of all the spliffs had finally got to her brain. But suddenly the man turned around and Jesus Christ it was him. It was Harry. His eyes were pinched as he searched the crowd and when he finally saw her they lit up, all green like a forest, and his mouth kicked up into that devilish grin of his.

He saw her dumb-struck expression and laughed softly walking toward his best friend. He was dressed in a suit jacket like everyone else, and since they were all drunk none of them noticed it was the Harry Styles of the One Direction AKA the biggest band in the world. To them, he was just some random twat who just graduated too.

His hair had grown all long and curly, and he just looked so much more like a man than when he’d left. Had he gotten taller? More strong? The arms of his jacket strained and Y/n sighed at the sight of him.

She didn't think she'd changed much, but Harry thought she looked even more beautiful than before, if possible.

When he stood right in front of her, her mouth was still wide in utter shock. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He laughed. “Is that all you hafta’ say? Come on, hug your best friend!”

She sprang up from her seat and the silky long dress, which was a teal blue colour. All smooth and tight on her skin was hiked up slightly. Her gown and cap were long gone, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. He lifted her up off the floor and spun them around.

She smelt like peaches and sweetness, and God, he could've stayed holding her for weeks.

She giggled and felt her face hurt from smiling so big. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you!”

When he placed her down, his hands did not leave the curve of her waist. “Surprise, babe.”

“What the- shit- I thought you were in Rome! How’d you even get here?” She asked

He smiled. “I was, got a flight this afternoon. It was the only one coming home, sorry for missing the graduation part.”

She just smiled up at him. “You’re crazy.”

He shook his head landing a hand on her shoulder. “I knew how important it was to you, and I missed you. Sue me.”

She laughed, eyes welling with slight tears. Maybe he wasn’t drifting too far from her after all. “Oh, god, don’t make me cry, you know how I get after a few pints, H.”

He laughed, arms outstretched for her to cuddle him. “Aw, pet, c’mere.”

She smacked his chest playfully but cuddled him nonetheless. “Let’s go get royally fucked, mate,” She whispered and they pulled apart, hands interlocking as she lead him off to one of the pubs where everyone was buying drinks.

It was called The Ducks Nuts.

A few of her mates were inside. Ones Harry didn’t know, but she’d already spent a good portion of the night with them. So she told them her old friend had surprised her and they’d be here and there.

Harry ordered them some shots and eventually the night was just a blur of hands touching each other, as they got so drunk Y/n felt her world spinning. They’d hopped around multiple different pubs and bars and Y/n was so tired. Her heels itched her feet with pain and she ripped them off, along with her bag. As they walked with little purpose she threw her things at him and began to dance in the middle of the road.

Harry was holding her things as she danced in the street showing her best Elton John impression, and he silently decided that was what made her so perfect. She was just herself. And he loved that about her, he loved everything about her.

He laughed and told her what a realistic impression it was, and how they’d met at some award show to back up that comment. She was infinitely jealous, she loved Elton.

On her way back toward him she landed in his arms after losing her footing he shook his head at her.

“You are very drunk, Lovie. Aren't ya'?" He said, in a soft tone one that made her tummy turn in flips.

She sighed as they walked in a direction with no destination in mind. “You aren’t drunk enough, you need to get on my level.”

He noticed her shiver under his arm and quickly ripped his coat off. It swallowed her form and she smiled gratefully hugging the coat around herself. It felt like a warm embrace, and that smell filled her nose and suddenly she was home in her old flat with him, home in Holmes Chapel, home with him. Just home.

“Smells good.” She giggled as she sniffed the shoulder pad, her cheek brushing against the soft material all dog-like. “N’ soft too.”

“Why thanks, it’s Gucci.” He replied.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on then, money-bags, let’s get you as drunk as me.”

They strolled into a tavern near her flat and drank so much tequila that they had to practically carry each other home.

As Harry looked up at the stars and moon, feeling the cool air nip her skin he sighed. He hadn’t gotten this drunk, and been this happy in such a long time. He was giggling contently, as she leaned into him and he silently wished that the night would never end.

He never wanted his time with her to end either. He loved spending time with her, whether they were on an adventure or doing nothing at all. Y/n made it worthwhile.

When they reached the shitbox of a flat she lived in Harry followed calmly behind her, and when one of her neighbours spat a comment about drunken youths he sighed, “I wish you would’ve taken up my offer,”

She looked up at him as she played with the jammy door that never seemed to open on the first try. Shoving her shoulder into it as she managed to finally wedge it open, stumbling inside ungracefully.

And with a roll of her eyes, she ushered him inside. “There is zero chance I’d let my all-of-sudden bazillionaire rockstar friend buy me a flat, just cause he can afford shoes worth more than my entire life savings. Anyway, how could I ever pay it back? I have two p to my name and a packet of noodles in my possessions, Harry.”

He laughed. “Think of it as a graduation present then,”

She sighed. “Just shut up and sit down, and I’ll get some wine.”

It was almost 4AM now, and neither cared. They were beyond drunk, but Y/n missed him and if force-feeding him wine would get him to spend a whole 24 hours with her, she totally would.

When she sat down with two mugs spilling with a cherry red wine, that was the cheapest shit she’d ever bought, Harry laughed. Her wobbly legs forced her to land awkwardly on one thigh practically on top of his. He smiled, one that showed his kind eyes.

Green pools of emerald she wished to swim in for eternity. She laughed at the thought, she really got poetic when she was drunk, huh?

“God, remind me to get you drunk more often.” He whispered.

She sighed. “Oh shut up, and fill me in on life then. Who are you shagging?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Who are you shagging?”

A blush crept up her neck, and suddenly the only secret she had kept from him was threatening to slip past her drunken red-stained lips.

“None of your business, but there’s this hot guy in my physics who I would totally shag,”

He laughed, but underneath it, he felt a jealousy creep up his spine, he knew he had no right since he’d been balls deep in two Italian models this morning, turns out threesomes are a really good cure for hangovers by the way. But despite that, he felt an itch he couldn’t scratch that resembled something pretty close to jealousy.

“What’s he like?” Harry asked.

She shrugged. “Dunno, tall, glasses, got that whole nerdy silent thing going for him.”

“That’s what you like then, silent types?” He asked, running a hand through his long curls, and she reached out to play with one.

She shook her head, and said distractedly, “I don’t know.”

“Makes sense why you never dated me then.”

During primary school, Harry dated every girl in their class including Daisy and Penny, except Y/n who told him she didn’t fancy him. It was an ongoing topic of discussion between them. Why wasn't he good enough? He always asked.

She laughed at that comment. “I know you too well for that, and I get the unfiltered you, and I lived with you which was basically like being married to you. We bickered too much to ever date, Haz.”

He looked at her with hooded eyes, and for some reason that stung, but trying to be light-hearted he said. “Never say never, what if we needed to repopulate the earth?”

She looked over at him and placed a hand on his and kissed his cheek, all soft and slow, and for a moment he thought she might actually kiss him for real but instead, she said. “There’ll be no hope for humanity then.”

He sighed, fake pouting before a couple of minutes of silence passed and he turned to her and said. “Come with me to Brazil.”

Her eyes widened, “What?"

“I leave tomorrow night, come with me.” He said.

She frowned. “What? Come with you? You can't be serious.”

He nodded. “Please? I miss you! And we can party for a whole week together, or sleep, or do whatever the fuck you want! Just come, pack a bikini and something sparkly, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Y/n and Harry did end up going to Brazil but that’s a story for another time.

She stood up from the couch holding her hand out to him, and he slid his into hers. Cool rings grazing the soft skin of her palm.

“Let’s just go to sleep, you're talking like a crazy person.” She said, softly pushing a lock of his hair away from his eyes.

He sighed at her, “But m’ serious, Love.”

“Alright, ask me again tomorrow. That is if you even remember...now come on, let’s listen to Fleetwood Mac and sleep until tomorrow evening.”

Y/n's room was cosy and welcoming. Harry felt his eyes droop at the sight. A tiny lamp shining over them in an orange glow, her cot-like bed covered in blankets and the scent of her likely covering those sheets.

That night they slept in Y/n’s twin bed, cuddling, with Stevie Nicks serenading them to sleep. Cheeks plump and pink from too much alcohol, hands wandering scandalously, and the love in air was thick and obvious.

Before Y/n fell asleep she pecked his lips, in a quick kiss, one that it barely even touched him and said, “Night, mate,”

His lips burned like wildfire, and from that night on, he did think humanity had a chance if it was up to them. Whether or not she believed that.

“Night, Love.”

i have been a bit slack with updates lately...second year of uni is crazy and im already soooo busy, but i missed them and i wanted to write a lil sum for y'all until my next proper update :) BIG LOVEEEE

#nostringsattachedblurbs #nostringsattachedseriesbylilystyles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader smut #lilystyles #harrystylesseries #childhood best friend to strangers to fwb to lovers #nostrings!H #blurb #longhairharry #my love #them

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makeste · 1 year ago

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BnHA Chapter 409: Bro I’m Straight Up Having a Good Time

Previously on BnHA: AFO murdered his brother like the mischievous knave he is. Bruce was all, “hey Kudou don’t look now but I think Yoichi might have given you his secret quirk that we didn’t know he had.” Kudou was all, “damn that’s wild, it almost feels like this is a pivotal moment that will change all our destinies forever, you’d think Horikoshi would have spent just a little more time elaborating on this but I GUESS NOT.” Back in the present day, AFO was all, “I’m just going to use all my quirks at once because fuck this kid,” and Katsuki was all, “lol oh shit.”

Today on BnHA: Kacchan is all, “okay, I know I should be hopelessly outclassed, but hear me out: what if I just win anyway. What if I just go ahead and blow his shit up, because this is the final battle, and this is what all of my character development has been building up to since day one. What if I just beat him, because I’m the guy who wins. Simple as that. What if I just kick his ass with my one quirk, and prove all the haters wrong.” Horikoshi is all, “okay, sure.” AFO is all, “wait, wha -- ”

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my g

huh. well I wasn’t expecting to start tearing up less than two panels into this chapter but HERE WE ARE

I love that he’s screaming and crying with his balled up little fist right from the get go lol. he was born a pissed off baby

he’s so squishy

and so tiny!!!!?!?! !?!??!?!

and he was RAISED WITH LOVE. fucking thank you, lol. gonna print that out and frame it on my wall. turn it into a flashing neon sign to give me comfort any time I stumble across stray Mitsuki discourse lol

anyway. oh my goodness. if this is a sign of things to come, there’s a very strong possibility this chapter may destroy me. how exciting!!

yep. yep yep yep. this is for sure going to be the chapter that finally does me in. it’s been a great ride folks

you better not be thinking any thoughts about dying, young man. this had better be meant in the sense of “because I’ll be by your side supporting you instead”, as opposed to “because I will be a little pile of dust in about three seconds’ time oh shit”

(ETA: after finishing the rest of the chapter, I’m pretty sure it’s the former! the first flashback is a reference to his chapter 120 speech -- “even higher than you, Chosen One.” the second is a throwback to chapter 247, when he told Endeavor he only had his one quirk, but it was strong enough to do anything he wanted to do. and the third flashback is one he also had at Jakku when he sacrificed himself to push Izuku out of the way.

so to me, this reads like (1) a reminder of his determination to surpass Izuku and become the strongest hero; (2) foreshadowing for him defeating AFO with Explosion, the Little Quirk That Could; and (3) a reminder of his “origin.” that last one being important because nowadays it’s just as strong of a motivator as his original goal. back at the beginning of the series, all he cared about was being the strongest. now, though, he’s not just fighting for himself; he’s also fighting to atone, and he’s learned to put himself aside if necessary.

as for the dialogue, this reads like a continuation of his mental conversation with Izuku that he began in chapter 362 (“gotta win... right, Izuku?” “so, Izuku... can I still catch up to you?”), and then continued in chapter 406 (“for some reason, I feel like I could overtake you now”). so in that context, “I’ll no longer get in your way” basically means that he’s done chasing Izuku, and that he’s caught up now and can hold his own. his determination to get stronger hasn’t wavered. his confidence in his own quirk and his own skills hasn’t wavered. and his resolve to atone for everything he did to Izuku is as strong as ever. put those all together, and we have the recipe for quite a spectacular redemption fight. his follow-up to chapter 362.

because earlier when he fought Tomura/AFO, he was basically just trying to buy time. no one ever planned or expected him to have to face the Big Bad one-on-one; that was supposed to be Izuku’s job. he was only meant to be there as support. and in the end he wasn’t strong enough, and he nearly died. and rather than being able to support Izuku, he ended up being used against him.

but this time is different. he’s no longer the decoy, the distraction. he’s no longer the pebble. he won’t get in Izuku’s way, because this time he’s going to be strong enough to win the fight. he’s going to hold his own, and get the job done.

so yeah. “I won’t get in your way” = “you can depend on me”, basically. because he’s become that guy at last. the guy who shows up in the clutch and wins the day. the hero he always wanted to be. good stuff.)

OH MY GOD

once again, just really solid hero advice from All Might here. there’s a reason he’s the GOAT

lol but in all seriousness it does tug at my heart to see him shouting so desperately at this kid. especially knowing that he’s presumably feeling the same pride and awe that I am, but with a lot more heart-stopping terror mixed in because unlike me, All Might doesn’t know that Kacchan is actually going to live forever. he narrated chapter 285, All Might, have a little faith

AFO is the extra-est mfer to ever live. but also it really tickles me to think that Kacchan pissed him off THIS much. it’s kind of an honor in a way

of course his plan is to simply just blow AFO up. of fucking COURSE it is. maybe there will be brain cells later on in this chapter, but for now who even needs them lol

OH MY GOD?!?

DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST BLOW THE FUCK UP FROM THE INSIDE?? am I seeing this right?? DID KACCHAN JUST SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST ALL FOR ONE WITH HIS MIND

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

(ETA: shoutout to AFO for being so analytical when I personally would have just been screaming, “OH MY GOD MY FUCKING EYEBALLS AHHHHHHHHHH.”)

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING THOUGH!! HIS POWER WASN’T DONE AWAKENING YET, APPARENTLY??

oh no wait it’s even better. this isn’t Awakening at all, this is just Katsuki playing 5D chess

so he actually did have brain cells the whole time then! Katsuki I sincerely apologize. you somehow had the presence of mind to make a goddamn minefield even in the midst of all of this hullaballoo

AND HE’S HUMBLE TOO LMAO

it’s true!! I’m people!! please ignore the multitude of times I’ve previously called him a dumbass, including earlier in this very chapter lol

hahahahaha yesssssssss

this chapter is incredibly validating for a number of reasons. I’m going to attempt to remain calm about it. but I’m enjoying this a lot ngl

oh AFO

:D :D :D

(ETA: you know what, I actually do have more to say about this. because I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve debated with people about this very thing, lol. for a while there post-Jakku it was just constant pessimism about Kacchan’s future in the manga. all this stuff about how Katsuki doesn’t have a main villain. Katsuki isn’t important enough. Katsuki is being phased out. Katsuki isn’t strong enough. Katsuki’s done developing. Katsuki’s just a joke character now. Katsuki’s just the damsel in distress. Katsuki’s always going to be second fiddle to Izuku. etc. etc. etc.

and then this chapter -- this whole entire fight, really -- comes along, and it’s just nonstop rebuttals, lol. and it’s not just that he’s proving all the negativity wrong. it’s that he doesn’t even care about any of that. AFO is out here trying to goad him with that same “YOU’RE JUST A SIDE CHARACTER” bait, and in response Katsuki just hits him with a Howitzer and tells him to shut the fuck up. AFO thinks he can get to him by being petty, because AFO still sees him as the bratty kid from the Sports Festival. but the present day Katsuki has long since moved past all of that, and no longer gives a fuck whether or not he shares the spotlight. unlike AFO, who never lost his childish egotism, Katsuki has learned to see outside himself, and the resulting growth has made him a bigger badass than AFO could ever hope to be.)

(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶

ouch

HAHAHAHAHA

bro I’m straight up having a good time. this recap is gonna suck this week because there’s absolutely no commentary I can think of to add other than “I’M REALLY ENJOYING THIS, THIS IS GREAT”

I want to take this entire chapter and get it tattooed on my face

sorry AFO. this must really suck for you

lmao. is that all Kacchan. tell him how you really feel

OH MY GOD NO WAY LOL

so, fun fact, I literally just read chapter 385 last night lmao. most fortunate timing I’ve ever had, holy shit

okay so lemme just add some more thoughts on this one really quick

Hawks deserves all the nice things in the world and I’m so sad I can’t give them to him, but at least he gets this. sweet sassy revenge

I am once again calling everyone’s attention to the fact that AFO continues to be his own undoing. congrats on screwing yourself over bucko

Kacchan’s sleeve ripping up Deku-style is once again making my Plus OFA Theory senses all tingly. it probably is just a coincidence and has nothing to do with OFA, but I can’t unassociate it now, so I’m just gonna sit here and read as much into it as possible

if I had a nickel for every time AFO’s eyes blew up in this chapter, I would have two nickels, and that is way too many fucking nickels jesus christ

ever since he came back from the dead, Kacchan’s been doing this thing where he is just really pretty at all times, even when he is being a gremlin. and honestly it’s taken some getting used to, although I’m not complaining

but like in this panel especially, it just really stands out to me how even his “GRYAHHH I’M GONNA KILL YA!!!” face somehow has this really cool, intense, piercing glare now and he no longer looks like a baby troll when he does this kind of thing lol

OH FUCK YEAH

୧༼✿ ͡◕ д ◕͡ ༽୨

“THERE’S NO WAY I COULD’VE WON THIS ALONE.” OMG. THAT KACCHAN CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT JUST HITS DIFFERENT EVERY DAMN TIME, I SWEAR

he and Hawks basically pulled a “you hold him and I’ll punch” lol. thanks for the assist Hawks

Mitsuki and Masaru being all, “my little baby boy!!” and “HOLY SHIT”, respectively, sent me all the way to the moon lmao

HELLO THERE YOICHI? fancy running into you here. just chilling out over in this montage of people close to Bakugou who are watching him kick ass. did you take a wrong turn, mayhap. you’re not inside of AFO, we know that much. and Deku, much as I’m sure he’d love to have a front row seat to all this, seems to have his hands full dealing with Tomura right now, sadly

so all of that does seem to raise an interesting question, no? where did you come from just now, and why? and when Kacchan says he’s not alone, is there perhaps more truth to that statement than even he knows? or am I once again just reading way too much into this lmao

anyway so yeah! that sure was fun. and with the end of the year approaching and back-to-back two-week chapter breaks coming up, I have a chance to do the funniest thing of all time, and still not manage to catch up, lol. nah but I’m gonna try my best though. pretty sure I should be able to manage

#bnha 409 #bakugou katsuki #all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is late I've been trying to post it for almost an hour #the 'post now' button was infuriatingly greyed out for some reason #ended up having to copy everything over to a brand new post and redo all the pics and formatting #thanks tumblr

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thewulf · 1 year ago

Text

Fool || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Can you write something about hangman x pilot!reader? also make it super fluffy? not a specific request I know, but I've having trouble finding new things to read. thank you!!

A/N: Okay! This was a BLAST to write! TY for the request!! Love my main man. This turned out way more angsty and spicy(ish) than I imagined but I think you'll love it. Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4.2k +

“You can’t be fucking serious Seresin.” You nearly growled as you watched Hangman roll to the right after you expressly told him not to fucking roll to the right. He was supposed to stay straight ahead and head back to the aircraft carrier. But did he listen? No, he did not. His stupid big ass cocky brain would never take any advice. Soon enough it could cost him his life. One of these days it could really hurt him.

You heard him laugh. Laugh! The balls on that man were something else, “Don’t worry Wolfie. I’ll be just fine.”

You shook your head following as closely behind as you could. You heard your WSO, Beamer, curse behind you as you pressed your jet on further, faster. She could do it. You knew her limits. It’s what Maverick trained you for. You were built for this. Ready for this.

“What’s wrong?” You continued looking for Hangman, but he was going just as fast as you were.

“Bogies ahead. Six o’clock. Two of them.” Beamer shouted from behind you spotting something on the radar.

“I don’t think they’re friendly Beamer. Fuck, Hangman, did you copy?” You gunned it trying your hardest to catch up, but the motherfucker had other plans.

“What’s that?” You could practically hear the smirk dripping off his face with that comment alone. It took everything in your not to scream at the idiot of a man. You needed to get the hell over there to help him, but he was moving so god damn fast in the other direction. You’d never be able to catch him. Faster it was.

“Not friendly! Bandits! Six and eight Hangman!” Beamer shouted back in just as much frustration you seemed to be in. He didn’t have a back seater letting him know when objects were incoming. He was flying into what looked to be a trap.

“Shit.” You heard a pause before all hell broke loose on his end, “Wolf, got one on my ass.” He grunted.

“I’m on my way.” Panic rose through your chest, but you couldn’t freak out. Not yet anyway. This is when you needed to relax. Focus on the problem. The bandits. You needed to take the bastard that was following Hangman out. Calm down. Slow your heartbeat. Speed up. You could do this.

“Beamer, where are they?” You asked seemingly losing sight of them once you made it through the cloud bank. Where in the hell was that second bandit?

“20 degrees to your left, now!” He answered quickly forcing you to divert left. You dove seeing the planes up ahead. F-18 vs F-18 Super Hornet, it was up to the best pilot now. You gulped kicking up your speed even faster. Ignoring the grunt of your WSO you knew he was likely being flown into something bad. Hurry Wolf. Hurry. You pressed forward even faster. 690 knots ticketed upwards of 700 knots. You were blazing through the atmosphere. It was a damn good thing he was flying low, or you wouldn’t have been able to catch up.

710 knots. That was officially the fast you’ve ever flown. It didn’t seem like enough though. Like you weren’t going to make it soon enough.

“Hangman! Bank right 45 degrees.” You yelled knowing it’d give you a little more of a chance to catch up.

Thank God he actually fucking listened to you this time. His jet turned forcing the other F-18 to overshoot a bit. You knew the plan and had already been banking giving you the perfect shot on the enemy jet.

“Lock on Beamer!” You were yelling at your wizzo now. Sweat poured down your face as you maneuvered into a better position to help him lock onto the clueless pilot.

"Target locked!" He pressed on the second you heard the lock sound.

“Firing missiles.” As quickly as he spoke your hands were hitting the joy sticks. One second. Two. Three and then four.

“Target hit!” Beamer yelled out in joy seeing one of the missiles land dead on. You let out a sigh of relief seeing the other pilot was able to eject on time. As fucked up as everything was you never wanted to take a life. You’d always prayed they’d make it out in time. You’ve taken three jets down now. Tied with Jake. You saw two eject. You pretended the third did.

The celebration didn’t last for too long when you heard your jet being locked on, “Fuck.” You grumbled immediately heading for a nosedive. There was that second bandit. In hindsight you probably should’ve took your jet straight up, not down. You didn’t have much air space left to utilize at such a low altitude.

“Wolfie! 30 degrees to your right.” Hangman didn’t elaborate any further.

You had to trust him. That was rule number one in the field. Always trust your wingman and vice versa. Listening to him you punched it after leveling out and turning your joystick to the right.

“Shit, missed the shot.” Hangman grumbled, “Keep flying, I’ll come back around.”

“Hang on.” You spoke to Beamer after hearing his miss. Pressing the throttle all the way forward you nearly stalled the engines that were starving for the oxygen rich air.

“What are you doing?” Your WSO nearly gasped hearing almost every alarm on the jet ring simultaneously. You were going to starve the fucking engines if you didn’t move soon.

You smiled knowing this move was saved for very special occasions, “A move Maverick taught me.”

“Oh Christ.” He closed his eyes knowing whatever was about to happen wouldn’t be good for him. You were probably going to bend the damn air frame or something crazy like that. Mav tried to teach everybody. You were just one of the few who actually tried his bat shit insane moves.

“Relax B.” You grinned punching it once you saw the enemy jet fly by you.

“I’m going to throw up.” You could hear the sarcasm on his voice. He grunted as his butt hit the seat after floating for far too long.

You laughed pushing your jet once again. 620 knots. 630. 640. Come on baby. Let’s get moving.

“You’re about as well trained as Hangman up here. Puking over a little g-force?” You snickered to yourself knowing you could gut punch the both of them. Two birds one stone or whatever they say.

“Hey!” You heard both of them shout in unison. Men. They were just too fucking easy.

690 knots. 700. You heard Beamer groan from the back seat. You were really putting him through it on this mission weren’t you? A little bit more and you’d be able to shoot that jet down too. 710.

The smile adorning your face probably looked maniacal. But you didn’t care. You entered into another zone when you were in the air. It was kill or be killed in the air. Notably when you were in a dogfight. The odds were even higher.

“Target locked!”

You barely heard your wizzo before you fired for the jet ahead.

“Target hit!” He yelled in triumph. You slowed down before making a turn looking for a parachute. For anything. Kill number four. Ahead of Jake. One behind Mav. Two kills in one run. That was pretty damn remarkable. You heard muffled cheers in your ears but didn’t see a parachute. Four kills. Two chutes. Two nothings. Did that make you a killer?

“What the fuck was that?” You tossed your helmet to the side walking towards him. Charging towards him really. He just got you so damn worked up. The fucking idiot he was. A dumb arrogant idiot asshole. Now, you just needed to say it to his face.

He cocked his head to the side, “Thought I had him.” A slow smile spreading over his face seeing you so worked up.

You would’ve loved to punch him square in the nose, but you were on the carrier. In the middle of the ocean. That was the dumbest thing you could probably do. You weren’t even looking for a fucking thanks. Just an apology would be nice, “You’re such a…” You scrunched your nose up once you got to him. He was taller than you, by a lot. Still didn’t intimidate you. But you had to look up to him, quite literally.

His smirk grew, “Yes, doll? I’m a what?”

Shaking your head your pointed your finger right as his chest, “Fool. Jake Seresin. You’re such a damn fool.” You nearly hissed before spun around walking back for your helmet. You’d probably need to get that checked out. You threw it down pretty hard in your fit of rage.

In all your time working with him had you been so angry with the man. Hell, you’d even respected him a tad before this mission. The two of you were never close but you seemed to work well together, train well together. You knew his type and you were able to deal with it.

“Hey there! Slow down.” He grabbed your arm gently before your yanked it right back from him, “Have you been watching those sappy love drama movies? What’s it called? Pride and something? Fool. Who says that?” You felt the blood inside you boiling now. He really knew how to push it.

Giving him an almost bewildered look, you answered him, “Can you take anything seriously?” It was evident you were more than angry now. He knew he needed to tone down the jokes.

He put his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry then.” He didn’t look sorry. Words meant nothing to you. Words were useless without action. Pointless. Words got people killed. Actions did too but words always stung worse.

You shook your head not accepting his apology, “For what Hangman? What are you actually sorry for?” It wasn’t the anger that got to him it was the sheer look of disappointment that crossed your eyes that made him reevaluate everything.

“I’m sorry you got chased.” He sounded unsure of his reply. Like he didn’t really know what he was apologizing for. Did he? Did he know why you were so upset? He didn’t. He didn’t have a clue.

You rolled your eyes before walking away again. You had to give him a bit of credit though, he sure kept tying, “You just don’t get it.” You sighed walking towards the locker rooms. At least there you’d get a reprieve from the arrogant man.

He panicked and followed you, “Get what?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. You weren’t like the other guys in your squadron. You loved flying but you hated killing. Hated the thought of taking somebody away from their families. It hurt you. Destroyed you. You thought about leaving for just that reason. And today? You’d probably killed a man or woman. Maybe even two. You never actually knew. And it was for nothing. It shouldn’t have happened. If he would’ve just listened to you the bandits wouldn’t have even spotted you. All that for naught.

“You think I like taking jets down? Killing people? Do you seriously think that I find enjoyment out of that? It makes me sick when I have to do things like that. That could’ve been somebodies dad. Somebodies daughter. Who the fuck knows Jake? I don’t. I never will. And now they’re just gone?” You were whisper shouting now. You’d never admitted anything like this to anybody. Not even your family. No therapist, military or civilian knew either. They didn’t need to know. So, you didn’t tell them. Not a soul, “If you just would have fucking listened to me I wouldn’t have had to do that!” Your voice was shaky now as you took off for the locker rooms. Tears on the edge of spilling over. You peered around thankful nobody was in ear shot. It was never a good thing to cry at work. You had like fifteen minutes before you had to report back for debrief. Fifteen minutes to get it the fuck together.

Jake just stood there as you dashed away. He could’ve followed but he knew you needed your space. You looked so hurt. So betrayed. He walked over to the locker room waiting for you to come out. You had to come out at some point.

He grabbed you when you walked out of the locker room. Your allowed yourself to cry for a few moments before you snapped it back together. You just hoped it didn’t show in your eyes.

It did. Jake saw it through your tear stained cheeks and your red rimmed eyes. He frowned feeling awful, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I… I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.” You refused to look at him. You were still upset. You’d be upset for a little bit before you’d shake it off. It’s not like you had a choice. You’d have to fly with him again. You would have to figure this out at some point.

He looked down hearing the icy snap coming from you. You weren’t usually so forward with your emotions. Usually, you were cool calm and collected one. The one that fell in line. The one who knew her place was limited as a woman, and she needed to be strategic about it.

“Either say something or let me go. We’ve got a debriefing to get to.”

He snapped out of it, “They’ll wait on us, come on.” He took your hand without a second thought guiding you to the side of the carrier. He was smart, not many people came over here. There was a very low chance of getting caught back here. You let him guide you without much thought. You were afraid to admit how much his touch had an effect on you. It felt like there was a fire ignited in your fingertips creeping up your arm.

You didn’t want to admit that’s also why you were so worked up. You didn’t know how to tell the man that you had a rather large crush on him. How you wanted to be the one he flirted with at the bars. How you wanted to be the one he was so dead set on kissing at the end of the night. Who he got to take home. You wanted it. You and only you.

Only problem is you were you. You were one of the dudes. Wolfie. You’d gotten your call sign because you were all bark and all bite. You followed through. Tough as a wolf backed against a wall. You were flattered, truly. But it made you a guy. Not a girl. Not somebody he would think of. You’d probably be better off if you just cut it off altogether with Navy men and went for a civ guy. It’d be easier. Less games.

His expression softened seeing you in the anxious state you were in. You really didn’t like conflict. You didn’t enjoy being mad at people. You were a simple girl who liked resolution. It wasn’t like you get so angry, “Look, Y/N…” He sighed. He wasn’t good at this either. Sure, Hangman was a persona but owning up to mistakes that could’ve cost you your life? That was tough.

“I fucked up Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that. I overestimated my abilities. I could’ve gotten you hurt. I could’ve gotten shot down. It was dumb. And I put you in an awful spot. I’m so sorry. Truly.” He rambled off quickly.

Your eyes narrowed as your searched for any sort of sarcasm, “You mean it?”

He nodded his head looking away from you, “Yeah. I messed up.”

Unfolding your arms from your chest you gave him a curt nod, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looked at you with a newfound hope in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine. Don’t do it again you dumb arrogant asshole.” A small smile crept over your lips letting him know you were just teasing. There was some hint of truth there though. He was a dumb arrogant asshole in that moment.

He pulled you into a hug. One that was different than the normal ones he gave you. This one was more meaningful. More thoughtful. He squeezed you a little bit tighter than he ever had before. Pulled you into his chest just a touch harder. He held you a little bit longer than usual.

“Thank you for saving my ass.” He whispered once he let you go from his embrace.

“I got your back. Any day. Any night. You know that Seresin.”

He nodding pulling you back in. How had he not seen it before? How had he not seen the treasure that you were right in front of his face. God, you were striking. You were everything he needed in a life partner. You were incredibly smart, so self-assured, beautiful beyond words, wittier than he could ever imagine, made him smile when he needed it, knew the right words too say… he was a dumb arrogant asshole. He liked you. Hell, he might’ve already fallen in love with you without even realizing it.

“Seeing that bandit chase you down was awful. And then when I missed… I’m so sorry. I failed you in every way.” You’d never heard Jake so sincere. Never heard him admit to so many fuck ups. It made you feel things you hadn’t ever before for him. Like he wasn’t just that fucking dickhead persona. There might’ve been a decent human being under the character you were sure he was playing.

You shrugged. Trying to play it off. You were never scared. You were determined to be the best in that moment. You had to be the best in that moment, or it could be you at the bottom of the ocean. A shiver ripped down your spine at the thought. It hit you sometimes just how damn dangerous your job was.

“It’s fine. Just listen next time? Okay?” It felt like for once you were actually getting through to the man. It’d been so surface level in the half a year you’d been stationed with him. This was a surprise, a pleasant one though.

“You got it Wolfie.” He smiled letting his hand drop from your shoulder. You really liked how it felt there. Not that you’d admit it.

“Let’s go. We gotta go get our asses chewed out by Cyclone.” You sighed not looking forward to it. It was supposed to be a simple bombing. Get it and get out. Clearly, that didn’t happen and now he probably had to do a lot more paperwork than he was expecting. Shooting down two enemy fighter jets was more serious than you would think. You were surely going to get interviewed over it.

“Don’t worry doll. I’ll take the heat.” He pushed you forward by placing his fingertips to the small of your back. You thanked your lucky stars you were in your flight suit, and he couldn’t see sheer amount of goosebumps that exploded across your body from his touch. God, how embarrassing. He didn’t even have to try, and you were already weak.

“You better. It was your fault after all.” You countered feeling more and more like yourself as you talked it out with Jake. This was the guy you had a mad crush on. Jake. Not Hangman. Jake Seresin, the cowboy from Texas.

He shook his head with a growing smile on his face, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” It slipped out so quickly Jake wasn’t sure if he actually said it. But there it was. It was out there now. You had to have known how adorable he really found you.

Your head whipped around quickly giving him your own version of a smirk, “You think?”

He had a choice. Play it off or go all in. He had hardly thought this was how his day was going to go. He didn’t even know he really liked you like that earlier this morning. Now here he was ready to admit to it? What in the hell was even happening? But who was he kidding? He’d be flat out lying to deny it. He wasn’t a liar.

“Know so.” He shot you a wink before grabbing a loop on your flight suit to keep you on pace with him. Fuck it. He’d decided he was going all in on you now. Might as well step his flirting game up with you while he was at it.

You were so shocked by his admission you hadn’t even realized the smooth ass move he pulled by literally pulling you along with him. The move was so confident you were practically on your knees already. He looked over seeing your dazed expression.

His deep chuckle brought you back to the present, “What’s the matter darlin’? Cat got your tongue?” He dropped his hand from the loop so close your chest.

You didn’t drop your eyes from his hand that had pulled you along with him, “No. Just thinking.”

“What about?” He raised his eyebrows challenging you. He was clearly feeling a whole lot better. He was laying it on thick.

“Work.” It wasn’t a lie. He was work. He was all you were able to think about.

He smirked as he knowingly brushed his hand along yours. God he was a pro. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, “Sure doll. I think you’re lying though. You were thinking about me.”

You shook your head quickly not daring to draw your hand away, “In your dreams Seresin.”

He ran his index finger along your pinky, taking any touch he could get, “What if I told you I dreamed about you last night?”

“Shut up.” You didn’t believe him as you pressed on.

“Got me thinking about you doll.” His long strides kept pace with your quicker shorter ones. He wasn’t letting you walk away from this one. Lucky for him it was at least a ten-minute walk to the captains office where you’d debrief. Plenty of time to get you admitting some feelings he knew you had. Not with those emotions he’d seen earlier.

“I said shut up Jake.” Rolling your eyes, you willed yourself to get to the captains office faster. He was so much taller it didn’t matter. You could be sprinting, and he’d still be right by your side.

He ignored you, “Thinking about how smart you are. How often you kick my ass. How often you save my ass.” His eyes lingered in your at that last statement.

“What are you doing?” You stopped looking at him desperately. What was he doing? Was he going to blow this whole nonexistent relationship up? It’s not like you were the best of friends to begin with. Casual acquaintances. Training enemies. Mission buddies who were far more successful than not. The two of you were dancing on something that was hardly even there.

He shrugged, “Telling you the truth.”

“Why?” You took a step back boxing yourself against the wall.

“Why not?” He took a step closer pinning you against the wall placing either hand next to your face. It was so silent you could’ve sworn he could hear the gulp you took trying to regain some composure. What in the hell was even happening right now? Sure, you’d been crushing on him for what feels like just as long as you’ve known him there’d been no sort of indication he’d had any inkling of interest.

“Anyway,” He only grinned seeing your face. You looked starstruck. Like you couldn’t believe what he was doing. Hell, he couldn’t believe what he was doing. He hadn’t even really properly thought it through. But he good feeling about it. A really fucking good feeling about it, “As I was saying. I was thinking about how fucking pretty you really are. Especially when you wear that yellow sundress. You’re a vision, Y/N.” He was so close. So, so close.

Your head spun with his scent and that admission. He smelled so fucking good. A mix of wood and cinnamon. It mixed with his natural musk oh so well. If you weren’t in the middle of the open you’d probably jump right on him intending to rip that suit right off of him. But you couldn’t those thoughts right now. Not when you were about to get your head chewed off. You were ten minutes late already. That was already a hole you had begun to dig yourself.

You looked from one of his eyes to the next. The overwhelming feeling to lean up and kiss his him was starting to take hold. What in the hell was the matter with you?

“Didn’t your momma teach you that lying’s bad?” You whispered. It was a way to ask for confirmation without straight up asking for it. A way for him to deny it for the lie it was.

He shook his head quickly, “I never lie. ‘Specially not to you doll face.”

Your mouth dried slightly. Your lips parted to respond before they closed. Cat really did get your tongue now, “Thank you, Jake.” You could hardly hear your whisper. But he sure did.

“Anytime darlin’. Now let’s go. Get this shit over with.” He took your hand in his once more. He wasn’t planning on dropping it until he got to that door.

He watched as you walked in. Fool. That’s exactly what he was. He was a damned fool not to see you right there in front of him. But he knew one thing. He wouldn’t let you slip away now that he knew what he had. You. He planned to make you the fool’s girlfriend soon. Very, very soon.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @dempy

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soars22 · 11 days ago

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It was the best solution they had, at the time.

They hadn’t taken this new “Hostile Faction” seriously at first. How could they? All of the factions were hostile-just look at what had happened with Pangi and the honey. What was a few new bloodthirsty faces to The Realm, really? What harm could a bunch of pirates do?

They should have listened.

It’s been months now of nonstop attacks, of homes and crops ruthlessly and systematically put to the torch, of all their people living in fear. It’s been months and they’re all at their breaking point. They meet up one night, slipping through the darkness to gather in the damp caves beneath the town. It’s the only really neutral place left, since the tavern was destroyed.

“We have to do something,” Bad mutters, pacing over the slippery stones. “Yeah, no shit, dumbass, that’s why everyone’s here,” Foolish snaps back. “And will you stop clopping everywhere with your hooves, you sound like a fucking pony, just clip-clop, clip-clop-“

“Language! I don’t see you offering any suggestions, oh ‘Great King.’”

“Ok, listen, pal, just because we have more people-why, why do I have to come up with something, huh? Why does it have to be me? Why can’t you do it?”

“But, Foolish, you said you had a plan, remember? You told me you were going to give yourself up as a hostage and let yourself be tortured to save us all!”

“What?!?” Foolish shrieks, his voice echoing painfully in the cave. “Oh, fuck that, if anyone’s getting tortured it’s going to be you—“

“Shut UP!” Tubbo snaps, eyes flashing dangerously. “Both of you just fucking stop, this isn’t getting us anywhere. We came here to make a plan, not watch you two flirt with one another!”

“Flirting?!?”

“We are NOT flirting—“

“Oh my GOD, I don’t CARE,” Toby groans, throwing himself to the ground dramatically and flinging an arm across his face. “If I wanted to watch an old married couple, I’d go spend time with Fit and Pac.” Predictably, Foolish and Bad both squawk indignantly at this. Tubbo isn’t listening to them, though; he’s just had a brilliant idea.

“Fit and Pac,” he breathes, sitting up. “Holy shit. My liege!”

“Hmm? Yes, what is it, my humble subject?”

“My liege, how would you feel about having a wife?”

_____________________________________________

“I still don’t understand why I have to wear a dress,” Bad grumbles. “Foolish isn’t wearing a dress.”

“Foolish is voluntarily wearing assless and crotchless lingerie under his armor,” Hannah says soothingly. “Besides, you kick ass in those heels.”

“Language,” Bad mutters morosely. “That’s not the point and you know it.”

“Well, think of it this way,” Pac says brightly. “At least this way you know for sure the curtains matched the drapes, right?” Bad sputters and Hannah cackles and all three of them try to ignore why they’re here in the first place, and what it’s all for. That’s a tomorrow problem, after all.

_____________________________________________

It works-barely. That’s what matters in the end. Bad works tirelessly with the Kingdom of Fools’ smith and archmage, bringing them the resources they need to craft better armor and stronger weapons and tools. Foolish commands his extra troops with chaotic yet undeniable efficiency while Pangi and Pac are a force unto themselves (for years to come, the seas would shiver with the threat of the dreaded “passa tudo”). Tubbo’s crowd pulls their weight as well, of course, with Philza to act as spy, and Tubbo’s concoctions saving more than one life in the rough battles ahead.

But they would have failed if not for the forced proximity a royal union brings. It’s not without its faults or flaws-the argument over last names alone lasted a full week and ended with five missing villages, an exploded mountain top, and a decision to turn their last names into a palindrome) but there is one thing that no one can deny:

It truly was the best decision they had.

(Thanks to @trappedinacomputer for the inspiration!)

#the realm smp #my writing #landduo #foolhalo #I need you all to picture Bad and Foolish wearing one of those giant get along shirts #I like to think that their arguing and flailing is what ends up sinking all the pirate ships on accident #they both insist it was on purpose and that they were the ones to deliver the final blow #and then they kiss- I mean what-

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mono-dot-jpeg · 1 year ago

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tank moment - mauga

summary; title slightly irrelevant, i wanted to be funny. iykyk

genre/extra tags; headcanons/bullet fic, i talk about mauga hcs i thought of on the fly, reader is implied to be a support character, reader is also part of talon group, fluff, i only know the bare minimum about him and that's all i need baby, is this platonic or romantic idk

[gender neutral reader] [canon typical violence mentioned]

a/n; im back on my overwatch era. it never really ended but, i want to write about him, mauga, the beloved. typing this on my phone and finishing on my computer if anything seems wonky shhh dont tell me i'll relive that mistake for days

also this is a somewhat lightly reseached- aka not fully accurate/detailed work. i briefly mention samoan culture and if it offends or if it's a mistake, please tell me and i will erase those parts asap.

[support me and buy a kofi]

🗣 ALRIGHT SO ‼️

i've been watching and playing with/against mauga since the trial to play him came out and god i love him

but he's kind of easy to counter (im an ana main, nade is fucking broken but that's just anti heal things) and his ult is annoying

anyways

every tank needs their heal bot to keep em up

you just happen to be mauga's heal bot KDJSJSJ

(baptiste is too probably but not really)

he's a really smug guy

no one really knows that bc he sounds so upbeat and nice

but he loves to tease you, poke at you bc he knows that you will answer to him most of the time and entertain him in conversation

you and him are probably in your world even when you're both in talon tbh

he does his own thing and you just happen to join in

(he totally baits you to join his plans and you both know it)

he's a chaotic and cunning man and you're his enabler

(sounds like me and my bestie tbh)

"a hero would sacrifice you to save the world but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you" type beat

he's lowkey possessive but we dont talk about that

jk we do talk abt it

he's your scary guard dog privileges

like that man is tall tall ‼️‼️

idk why but i dont really imagine him being like an openly sweet person

he keeps it private even with how loud he is

anyways

you know how he's on a yacht for his origin story and there's like a bunch of people who got destroyed by him?

yeah he would totally do that shit for u if you asked.

he would give you the best home but

"thanks for the new place and all but did you have to kill someone for it?"

"i mean come on! this place is nice! let's enjoy it!"

he's very "i'll do the dirty work, just sit back and look pretty." and then you're like, "yeah i could. but i won't."

dps support vibes for you ✨️

but also he's charging in most of the time so, there's not much time to dps support KDHDJDJJD

he's like the kool aid man bursting in through the walls /j

cough

back to the hcs here...

he's so tall and big, he would totally let you hang off his back like nunu and wilump (from league, yeah i play league dont remind me totally gonna write for heartsteel soon tm)

also he's literally the greatest heated blanket (ahead of roadhog)

he's so stronk and wowowowow im so gay i love him

when you're surrounded by some enemies, he's charging in, slamming the ground and carrying you with ease as he keeps you safe while destroying any enemies who even tried to touch you

ugh

despite his lack of pda, he's a very actions over words.

he's so silly

chivalry isn't dead when he breaks into a jewelry store for u 😍😍

if you ever have those crazy thoughts about crime, he's totally gonna enable you and let you reign havoc on god knows what.

love language is actions and gift giving. enough said.

when he gives you a hug, he's so fucking warm omg

i said it before and i'll say it again, he's the best heated blanket, literal furnace

bad for the people who sweat easily though (ahem me lowkey)

one the off-days where it's just a day off and relaxing, he's taking care of you well !!

when you're on talon missions, since he can't run around as easily unless he gets the okay but you do keep him company until then

he likes to protect but he loves destroying people

he knows you're able to care for yourself, so he can go crazy whenever, and he loves that.

he also loves watching you get mad or angrily passionate

"yes go, la'u ma’asoama!" (my rock/stone, get it? bc his name means mountain)

he is a really good hype man. even if you're the one in the wrong.

god I WISH I LOOKED UP MORE ABOUT HIM ARGBHYKFJ

soon (tm)

someday i'll write more.

#overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 x reader #overwatch mauga #mauga x reader #overwatch mauga x reader #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch fluff #overwatch headcanons

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garmanarnarr · 6 months ago

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Rickorty Week Day 6: "Say You'll Marry Me"

college-aged Morty | 2.8k words | Rated M, language, vomit, suicidal ideation, rock bottom Rick Sanchez

@rickortyweek

Morty throws the trunk of his dad’s station wagon shut with a thump.

“You sure you don’t need to bring my Ninja smoothie blender, Morty?” Dad asks, for a second time, standing on the driveway beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. The August morning is hot and clear. Gene’s sprinklers are going hard on the lawn next door.

“I think it’ll make you really popular with your roommate. You said they’re from California, right? They must be healthy. There’s a little more space behind the driver’s side–”

“N-nah, I’m good, Dad,” Morty says. He goes around to the passenger door to do a last check of his overflowing laundry hamper and make sure his video game console box made it in. He doesn’t want to forget Bonestorm III. All told, he doesn’t really have that much to bring, though, and the car’s only half full. He wears pretty much the same clothes all the time, and doesn’t have a ton of books or movies or anything. His booby bikini girl poster is rolled up in the footwell of the backseat and one or two of his robot figurines he just couldn’t part with are packed into cardboard boxes. All the advice listacles his parents found online for Summer’s freshmen year of college said that bringing something from home was important, so the idea has been passed down.

He reaches into his pocket and palms the little evil intent detector that Rick had made for him a few years back. A tiny credit-card sized piece of metal that reads people’s brainwaves and vibrates if they’re planning on hurting him or torturing him or whatever. They’d used it on an adventure, a rare heist –Morty can see Rick’s eye roll– but he hadn’t had the heart to throw it away. He’d gone back and forth for ages on whether or not to even bring it. He still doesn’t have to, he tells himself; he has hundreds of miles of highway driving ahead of him where he can just chuck it out the window and let it get crushed on the side of the road. He tightens his grip.

His mom comes out of the garage, checking her watch. “We gotta get this show going,” she says. The garage feels weirdly empty until Morty realizes it’s because Rick’s ship isn’t in it. Hasn’t been there for a while. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and starts loading the last few bags.

“If we don’t leave soon we won’t make it to our motel until, like, eleven, and lord knows what we’re going to find in Fresno after sundown,” Mom says.

Dad follows Morty as he transfers a final trash bag of gym shorts and shit into the back seat.

“What– what about my George Foreman Lean Griddle? Or, my Slap Chop? You never know when you’ll need onions in little cubes, those always make me cry….”

Dad sniffs, then wipes away a tear, even though he’s trying to look like he isn’t. Oh, God. He had volunteered to drive Morty first, of course, before being overruled.

Morty turns back and gives him a small smile. “I’m really fine, Dad. But thanks.”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, just give me a moment, son.”

Something in Morty’s pocket buzzes. His hand flies to Rick’s detector, for a second, until he realizes it was the other one. He pulls out his phone and opens it to check his messages while Dad tries to get it together. Two are from Summer, who’s been spending her senior year of college in London with the textile arts department of her school doing fashion stuff.

dont let dad cry all over u little bro

cuz hes gonna

The newer message is from his girlfriend, Anne.

status report mortimer

Morty finds himself looking for some kind of message from Rick– which is stupid. Rick doesn’t text.

He texts Anne:

finally leaving lol

She responds immediately:

call me when you guys stop for the night?

Morty’s heart clenches fondly. They’re going to different schools to study different things in different parts of the country— newly separate time zones– and it’s going to be hard, but he likes her a lot. Enough to give it a shot. He winces as he remembers Rick’s deadpan dismissal when Morty had mentioned that he and Anne were going to do long distance over dinner a month or two ago. D–didn’t take you for that much of an idiot, Morty. As soon as she gets there she’s gonna be getting allll sorts of co-ed dicks in her mouth. But I guess you don’t mind sloppy digital seconds?

Ofc i will, he types.

Nobody’s heard from Rick in two or three weeks. Morty had kind of expected– well, he didn’t know what he’d expected, but he’d really thought that Rick would do him better than this. All he does is talk about how stupid Morty is all the time; maybe he’s pissed at being sort of wrong. He’d been straight up shocked when Morty got his acceptance letter in the mail, the packet fat in Morty’s hand as he raced down from his room to show everyone. While Summer screamed, and both his parents had cried, Rick had stared at the letter Morty was holding, hard, then sipped his beer, then turned back to the TV. N-nice one, Morty. A real cool sixty grand a year investment, there.

“Let’s go, Morty,” Mom says, opening the passenger side door. “I need some coffee if we’re gonna do this.”

Finally, Dad wipes his face. After taking a few deep, calming breaths, he walks over and sweeps Morty up in a hug.

“I’m proud of you, Morty.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“We didn’t think you’d make it, but you did. Of course you did. And that’s what matters.”

“Bye, Dad,” Morty said, leaning into the hug. “I–I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Morty doesn’t realize how much he misses the sound of a portal opening up until he hears one right behind them. Dad jerks back with a frightened twitch.

“What the hell–?”

Rick doesn’t so much step out onto the driveway as fall. He looks to be in a really bad way. Maybe as bad as Morty has ever seen him: scraggly and torn up, not even really standing up straight, too drunk for his body to cope with the flat, even keel of the pavement. One arm of his labcoat is missing, ripped off at the shoulder, and Morty’s thankful to see that the arm beneath is intact. Skinny, and maybe there are track lines, there, faint in the bright sunshine, but intact. There’s dried vomit crusted on his sweater.

“M-Morty, oh, God,” Rick moans. Morty feels a sinister shiver run over his shoulders and up the back of his neck as he watches Rick try to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly into the hot light. “Christ. Fuck.”

“Dad?” Mom asks, poking her head out of the driver’s window.

“Rick? Here to say goodbye to Morty?” Jerry asks, cautiously. Morty watches as he scooches himself to stand between his son and Rick, a little bit. A surprisingly brave move.

“Isn’t that w-what we’re all doing?” Rick asks back, taking a step forwards, then falling to one knee with a lurch as he loses his balance. “Saying fuckin’ goodbye— goAAUUGhodbye to Morty? Because he’s going away f-f-forever and never coming back?”

Rick’s drunken stare pins Morty to the side of the car, which had been parked outside so long while they packed that the metal is starting to get hot. The words sound like a taunt, but Morty can hear the truth there, a hard kernel in the middle.

“Hi, Rick,” he says, trying for indifference. In his pocket, he squeezes his hand around the detector.

Rick narrows his eyes. “R-R-Rick and Morty. One thhhhousand fuckin’ years. What, whatever happened to that shit, huh?”

“Dad–” Mom’s getting back out of the car.

“So I’m going to school. Big whoop,” Morty says, annoyed. Everything about this is annoying: Rick disappearing whenever he wanted then showing up just in the nick of time fucking shit faced like he’s trying to bail out the Vindicators. “You’ve been gone for, like, three weeks, Rick. And you didn’t feel the need to tell anybody about that. N-not that I would expect anything else at this stage. So, you know, whatever.”

“Three weeks?” Rick’s struggling to stand back up, now. “Three weeks?”

“You’ve never owed anyone anything in your whole goddamn– your whole stupid life, R-Rick. Not my family, not me. Not even Mom.”

Rick’s expression is foggy and drunk, but underneath, Morty can see he’s hurt.

“I think you should go, Dad,” Mom says in her stop-doing-this-right-now-or-you’re-fucked voice. “I don’t care if you portal out of here, or crash on the sofa to ride out your hangover, or whatever, but just. Let us leave.”

Somehow, Rick manages to get one leg in front of the other so he can advance up the driveway towards Morty with halting, wavering steps like a zombie in a horror movie. The detector in Morty’s pocket buzzes. Dad looks back and forth between them, scared.

“Three weeks, Morty?” he grinds out, again. He’s close enough now for Morty to see how bloodshot his eyes are. “I’ll give– give you three weeks. Y-you know what happens when you go to college Morty? You have four years to get too fuckin’ big for your idiotic little britches.” He grabs one hand around Morty’s bicep, grip crushingly strong. Morty can smell his rancid breath across his face, agitated, huffy. “And then you, you go and think you can do goAUUGHd, good things for the world, or whatever, you get those little aspir– aspirations in your head, Morty, you get these fucking ideas in your head–”

“It’s already been years, Rick,” Morty says, trying not to turn away. “Doing whatever, well at least, pretty much whatever, I-I guess, you wanted me to do.”

“– and you don’t even know how stupid these i–ideas are, until, boom, you’ve lived your whole sad-ass pathetic-ass life doing jack fucking shit. Goin’ and bein’ a techbro office slave narc or some shit. I just can’t, I just can’t ffffucking– oh fuck—”

Rick starts to throw up pretty spectacularly all over the ground, and the side of the car, and on Morty’s sneakers.

“Oh my god, Dad!”

“Oh, Rick that’s just disgusting!!”

Morty just stays quiet until Rick seems finished and he slumps against the car, moaning. He watches as Rick slides down until he’s half knelt, half crouched by the front bumper, the vomit running down the gentle slope of the driveway to touch his shoes and the spread hand on the ground that’s keeping him from falling on his face. He makes a sound when Morty comes closer, a sort of whimper. Morty gets down beside him. Unable to stop himself, he puts a hand on his grandpa’s back and starts rubbing little circles as Rick groans, spitting out a wad of bile. There are a lot of different colors in the vomit, ones Morty can’t recognize even though he’s pretty familiar with Rick’s binge habits by this point.

“Fuck youUUGh. Fffffuck you, Morty. I– I mean that. So much. '' Rick’s staring at the ground. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his hand. Morty wonders if maybe he’s going to be sick again.

“Yeah, fuck you, too, man,” Morty says, but there’s no heart in it. He just feels sad. He wishes– he doesn’t know what he wishes.

“F-forever. Fuck you, forever,” Rick mutters quietly, almost to himself. Little dark spots show up on the driveway beneath his head, and Morty realizes he’s crying. Or maybe it’s post-vomit drool? It’s hard to see his face.

“M-Morty, Morty listen to me,” Rick says. He sounds defeated, almost confused. As old as he really is.

“I’m listening, Rick.”

“I’m gonna do somethin’ stupid. Sooo, so stupid.” Rick’s still staring at the ground.

Dad’s shadow has crept next to Rick’s foot. “Rick, I really don’t think–”

“Whatever you’re about to do, think twice before you traumatize my son,” Mom says. Then she pauses and adds: “More.”

Morty keeps rubbing circles across Rick’s knobby spine. “What, Rick? What– what’re you gonna do?”

“Say you’ll.” Rick chokes a little.

“Say what?”

“Say you’ll marry me, Morty.”

Morty blinks. “What?”

“JeEUGHsus Christ, don’t make me say it again.”

Morty’s body is a live wire. His hand scrunches the back of Rick’s coat tightly. “No. Say it again.”

Rick stares up at him with watery eyes.

“Marry me,” he says, quietly. Pathetically. There’s some drool and left-over throwup clinging to his chin.

There was this one adventure they’d gone on where Morty had mangled his leg so badly that his shin bone had actually broken the surface of his skin. Burst right through below his kneecap, like a jagged, bloody tooth. It was screamingly painful– Rick actually had to knock him out until he was able to fix it with some nanobots. Morty realizes that this is the same as that; that this is some core part of Rick, torn through all the heaped layers of nihilism and drugs and whatever else poisons who his grandpa is. This is the exposed bone.

When Morty looks up at his parents, he can’t read the expressions on their faces.

“I– I’m not a good person, Morty,” Rick says, grabbing weakly at Morty’s t-shirt to get his attention again. Like he can’t bear to let Morty look anywhere else. He sounds like he’s really losing it. “I’m a horrible person, Morty. Say– say that you’ll marry me. God, I’ll blow my fuckin’ brains out if you don’t— let’s just g-g-get out of—oh my God—”

Morty’s pocket vibrates. He doesn’t know if it’s the detector or his phone, and he should care, should be terrified, but he doesn’t.

He isn't.

—

Turns out, Shoney’s is a regional chain.

Morty doesn’t realize this until they reach the last one at the edge of the state, just before they cross the border. ‘Last Shoneys for the next 24,800 miles,’ says the sign at the exit. There’s a graphic of an arrow reaching all the way around the globe, back to the little point on the map they’re driving through. Morty has traveled the multiverse with Rick, to places billions of light years away, so far away time doesn’t mean anything at all, but somehow this is already the longest trip he’s ever taken. Like that one scene in the Lord of the Rings where Sam crosses the corn field. If I take one more step, this’ll be the furthest from home I’ve ever been. That was a really good movie, Morty thinks.

His mom throws the car into park. She’s had to adjust the driver’s seat to be closer to the steering wheel because her legs are shorter than Dad’s, and change all the mirrors, too. She drives way faster than him, swerving lanes to cut around traffic like a maniac. Maybe that runs on her side of the family.

“Food?” she asks, simply. Morty nods. He twists to look over his shoulder.

“Rick?”

Rick stirs in the back seat, thin eyelids fluttering. They’d made space for him by shoving over a bunch of the boxes to one side and moving some to the trunk. There aren’t really that many, anyways. He’s wearing a clean pair of pants and a t-shirt that belongs to Dad, which helps, but he still has an undernote of puke and sweat.

He makes a hungover-sounding groan. He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

“You want Shoney’s?” Morty asks. “L-last chance.”

“Shoney’s, you say?” He cracks an eye open, gaze flickering around to look up at the building they’re parked at. “Didn’t know they had them out here. O-on earth, I mean.”

Mom watches him silently in the rearview mirror. Rick just looks at Morty.

“Y-you know what, fuck it, sure,” he says finally, popping open the car door and getting out. The sun is even hotter, here, and scorching air blows into the car when he slams it closed. Mom and Morty do the same, one, then the other.

Together, they go inside to eat lunch.

#rickortyweek2024 #rickorty #rickmorty #my writing #once again #these just keep getting longer #i am sorry i am failng the idea of a ficlet #tense changed btw

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xmads-omensx · 4 months ago

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CHAPTER 2 - PLAY WITH FIRE AND YOU'LL GET BURNED

Word Count: 5,558 Content warnings: Swearing, angst, weapons, enemies to lovers, discussions of kidnapping, mentions of being chased

Tag List: @dominuslunae

VANIA

The shrill ring of the incoming call pierced the electric silence that had fallen between Noah and myself. Both of us breathing heavily following out screaming match.

Karius was calling. Fucker saved Noah’s life calling when he did.

I answered the call and K’s booming voice echoed in my ears. Noah was invited on the call too. I was guessing the other OMNS guys were as well.

“I take it you all survived that ordeal with ERRA then?” Karius questioned.

“Yep. No thanks to this bitch you stuck us with.” Noah snarled in reply.

“Oh fuck you!” I spat back.

“Shut the fuck up!” Karius screamed back through the call.

A beat of silence.

“Thank you. God. It’s like working with unruly children.” K continued. “Look, I’m just checking in after what happened and to let you know that ERRA has tightened their security tremendously since Vania’s job at the warehouse.”

“See. You’re not as slick as you think princess. You got caught.” Noah smirked smugly.

“No I didn’t asshole.” I barked back.

“No she didn’t Noah.” Karius sighed. “They suspect my boss was behind it and know that she works for me so they were going to go after her regardless of if it was actually her who stole the chip from the warehouse.”

I smirked at Noah. I had won.

A shocked look crossed his obnoxiously perfect face. Asshole.

“Anyway.” Nick entered the conversation with a sigh. “They have definitely upped their game. I couldn’t hack that pretty basic turret earlier. Now I can’t even access the weakest part of their database. We are going into this completely blind.”

“Fuck.” Noah and Jolly muttered.

“We could try and get into one of their allied crews’ systems and infiltrate that way?” Matt suggested.

“That would work except for the fact that ERRA wiped them out like two months ago.” Nick replied with a sigh.

“Fuck.” Noah muttered.

“Any ideas K? Or any useful intel?” I asked.

“Sadly, V, I got nothing for you.” Karius replied.

“Shit.” I muttered.

“Shit is right V.” K continued. “Look, guys, I need this job done no matter the cost so please can you get this mess cleaned up? I don’t care who you have to short circuit as long as the job is done. Got it?”

“Loud and clear boss.” I answered.

A chorus of “yep”s and “yeah”s echoed in my ears. Noah still glared at me as if this mess was all my fault.

The beep signalling the end of the call apparently gave Noah the go-ahead that he needed to berate me yet again. But instead, he shut his mouth and stormed away from me.

I followed him through the door and up a set of stairs. Neon graffiti decorated the dark walls and multicoloured LED lights hung above my head. It wasn’t what I had expected but I guess the OMNS guys might actually have some taste after all, despite their poor choice of leader.

The staircase led to a corridor with three doors on each side. At the end of the corridor, where Noah was heading to, was another large open-plan room with a huge table in the centre of it. The table had a holographic map of the entire Concrete Jungle on top of it and it looked as though Matt, Bryan and Jolly were inspecting it closely. Nick sat on one of the chairs by the massive one-way windows that encased the entire space. It looked like he was trying to find other ways to infiltrate ERRA’s operative system.

“Hey you two.” Matt called over to us as we entered the room.

Noah ignored him and walked straight over to the table.

“What are we looking at?” He asked the three men already there.

“We are trying to see where possible turret spots might be. Or other traps.” Bryan answered.

“Would they still use the turrets if they know that we know they have them? Would they not just hide them somewhere we don’t expect?” I suggested.

“Don’t ask stupid theoretical questions, Vania.” Noah sighed.

“I’m just trying to help. That’s what I would do. If my enemy knew for a fact that I had access to turrets and mines, I wouldn’t put them just in high risk areas. I would put them in the defensible areas too. And on top of that, I would place them sporadically with no real pattern to make it harder for my enemy to get in.” I suggested with a shrug of my shoulders.

“God you really seem to have all the answers don’t you princess?” Noah snarled.

“No she has a point Noah.” Matt defended. “Why would they put them in places we would expect? That would make our job so much easier.”

“Fine.” Noah caved. Not wanting to talk back to his crewmate. Matt was the logistics guy after all.

Matt zoomed in the map onto Electric Twilight, the club ERRA owned. “Let’s focus on getting in here before any of us make any rash decisions, okay?” Matt suggested, gesturing at the map in front of us.

Electric Twilight was quite possibly the most exclusive club in the Concrete Jungle. Only the elite got in and even then it was slim pickings. None of us here were wealthy enough to even dare dream about what it might be like inside the club. And besides, ERRA knew who was after them now and would most likely be on the lookout for us.

“Are there any other entrances besides the front door?” Jolly questioned Matt who had enlarged the club on the map.

“Looks like there’s just the one.” Matt began, “Nick! Can you come check this?”

Nick looked up from the wall in front of him and walked over to the table the rest of us had surrounded. His purple eyes glowed intently as he inspected the map in front of him.

“Looks like there is a back entrance through the drain in the alley behind it.” Nick explained.

“Great. So we can go through there?” Noah clapped his hands together.

“Not quite.” Nick started, “We would have a better shot at this if we split into two groups. Half go through the back and half go through the front.”

“But we can’t get through the front. There’s a bouncer on the door who will, quite literally, kill us if we try anything.” Noah let out a sigh.

“Do we know anything about the bouncer?” Bryan questioned.

“Yep. Looks like he’s full droid. Not a single human cell in his body. But he looks difficult to hack.” Nick explained.

At least he wasn’t a human. He could be controlled more easily.

“Hang on.” I began, “We don’t necessarily need to hack too far into his brain drive.”

“Go on.” Nick replied.

“What if we just alter his optic perception filter? We would go unnoticed. There aren’t any cameras in the club. ERRA don’t want any lingering evidence of anything that goes on in there.” I explained.

“That actually might just work.” Matt replied. I couldn’t help but smile to myself a little bit. My plan was good.

“Okay so that’s one option. What backups do we have?” Noah questioned, obviously not wanting to go along with my suggestion.

“None.” Matt replied. “We can’t all go in the back and leave the front unwatched. And we can’t all go in the front without getting caught. Vania’s plan seems like our best bet.”

“We will split in two groups. Nick and Jolly take the back, Vania and Noah take the front seeing as Folio is out of this one?” Bryan suggested.

“We need to wait till this ERRA shit calms down slightly. Maybe Folio will be back in business by then?” Noah added. Of course he didn’t want to be alone with me.

“Yeah that’s a good point.” Jolly agreed. “We can’t go in there while this shit is still hot.”

“That does leave us with plenty of time to perfect out strategy.” Matt stated.

“So I guess it’s agreed then. When are we blowing this joint?” I asked.

Noah rolled his eyes.

“Well there’s that big ass party there in about two weeks. That looks like the perfect cover for us.” Matt shrugged.

“That’s perfect.” Nick beamed. “Noah and V could pose as guests and get in on a forged invite?”

“Is that easy to sort?” I questioned.

“It’s easier than just reprogramming the optic perception filter. But I will need to get my hands on an invite chip to see what they look like so I can perfect my forgery.” Nick explained. “I will also need identities that are already on the guest list so I don’t have to hack the optic perception filter as well.”

“So what? We take out two guests and take their place?” I asked. Slightly taken aback by his quick planning.

“Well obviously princess, how else do you expect us to get in there undetected.” Noah snarled sarcastically.

“Great.” I said, completely ignoring Noah. “How do we decide how to take out?”

“Well. We need a man and a woman. Both need to be planning on attending the party together.” Nick elaborated.

“GOT THEM!” Matt exclaimed.

“What?” Noah and I asked in unison. He sent me a murderous glare.

“Persephone and Jaxon Martinez. Both attending together. Big spenders. Very flashy.” Matt went on.

“Great. Where are they?” I questioned.

“Right now, it looks like the are in their shared penthouse over in The Grey.” Matt explained.

Fuck. The Grey was an area of the Concrete Jungle that was largely lived in by the elite. They were tall, flashy buildings but surprisingly had weak security. The problem with this was that what we were going to attempt to pull off was risky and The Grey is a highly populated area and someone would surely notice if two of the elite living there went missing.

“Not tonight. We go and take them out tomorrow night. They will be asleep so we can hit up Bad Decisions before we go.” Noah sighed.

“Better. We can get a solid plan together by then no problem.” Matt agreed with a thumbs up directed at Noah.

“Bad Decisions?” I asked.

“It’s my club.” Noah sneered at me.

“Your club?” I questioned.

“Yes. My club. Jobs don’t keep us working all the time. Jolly co-owns it with me. Folio has the garage and Nick has his tattoo shop next door. Matt and Bryan run a cab service.” Noah explained with a bored tone.

“Oh.” I said quietly. How did I not know Noah owned Bad Decisions? Fuck.

“Oh?” Noah mimicked. “Cat got your tongue princess?”

“Fuck you.” I spat out. “I don’t need your mockery right now. I’m exhausted.”

“Lucky for you, you’re on the couch until this shit show is over.” Noah laughed at me.

“Seriously?” I stated.

“Yes, princess, seriously.” Noah smirked.

This man was going to be the death of me.

Morning broke through the windows and awoke me from my slumber. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, but obviously I would never tell Noah that. The plan was to meet up later on today to plan our mission to take out the Martinez’s so I needed to find something to occupy myself with until then.

I decided to go and check in on Folio and see how he was doing. The only problem was that I didn’t know what room was his. And on top of that I only had the clothes that I was wearing the night before, a tight black zip-up bodysuit that covered my arms and went up to about mid-thigh, a pink cropped sleeveless jacket, knee-high black boots with pink laces and my oversized black jacket just in case it was cold.

Before I even thought about asking where Folio’s room was, I went down into the garage and got onto my bike and began my journey back to my own apartment.

The daylight made the Concrete Jungle look like an entirely new place. The neon lights no longer emitted the same glow that they did when blanketed in darkness. The tall skyscrapers that were once glowing a rainbow of colours , now stood tall and grey. The light now dulled significantly, but very much still present.

Cars sped along the road alongside me as I sped towards my apartment. It took me about thirty minutes to arrive at my sanctuary. Nowhere felt like home here, but this was as close as I ever came to feeling like I had one. It wasn’t anywhere near as flashy as where OMNS lived, but it was enough for me.

It was a one room space on the top floor of a run-down apartment block closer to the centre of the Concrete Jungle. The kitchen sat to one side with a island that was miniscule in comparison to the one at OMNS’ place. Two of the walls were basically massive windows, giving me a perfect view of the entire cityscape below me. Opposite the kitchen sat a long L-shaped couch with a glass coffee table in front of it. I slept on the sofa as it pulled out into a small bed that was somewhat comfortable. A door next to the main door into my apartment led into a small bathroom.

I pulled out the drawer from under the couch and pulled out clean clothes and grabbed some toiletries from the bathroom as well. As shitty as it was, I was going to miss this place whilst I was away on this job. Like I said, this was the closest to home I had come to in a long ass time.

With one final glance around the space, I mentally said goodbye to this part of my life. This would be the last bit of peace and quiet I would be getting for a long time.

Then, I walked back down the stairs of the building with my bag slung over my shoulder and made my way back to my bike. Closing the building’s front door behind me, I suddenly felt a presence that hadn’t been there before. I was being watched. Careful not to look over my shoulder just in case, I made my way over to my bike.

“And bang. You’re dead.” A deep voice said from behind me. God I would know that insufferable voice anywhere. “It was a stupid idea to come here on your own you know that right, princess?” Noah stated.

“Yeah, well I’m still alive aren’t I?” I replied. Stretching my arms out beside me and dramatically turning in a 360 circle to prove to him that I was very much okay.

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a stupid thing to do.” He sneered.

“God, Noah, I am fine. Nothing happened. I don’t need your goddamn approval for everything I do.” I sighed in response to his idiocy.

“In case you haven’t noticed yet, princess, I am in charge here. You have joined MY crew. You follow MY rules. And MY rules mean you can’t go anywhere without my say-so.” He said.

“So what, you’re a fucking dictator now?” I crossed my arms.

“To you, yeah. I am.” He replied, also crossing his arms across his chest. Mirroring my actions.

Ignoring him, I swung a leg over my bike and moved to put my helmet on.

“Hey! Don’t fucking ignore me.” He yelled at me.

“What, Noah? I’m heading back now. Is that not what you wanted?” I shouted back.

“For fuck sake, princess!” Noah rolled his eyes again. “What I want is to know where everyone is so I don’t have you going rogue and spilling our shit to ERRA now do I?”

“Is that what you think of me?” I began. “You think that I’m a two-timing bitch?”

“Well you did ditch us on that bridge last night.” Noah muttered under his breath.

“I can hear you asshole.” I shouted back at him.

“Good.” He laughed. “Maybe then you won’t pull that shit again.”

I ignored him and put my helmet on.

“Don’t you dare start that engine princess, we aren’t done here.” He said with an edge to his voice.

Ignoring him for a second time, I smirked to myself and started my bike before taking off again. Noah got into his stupidly flashy car and followed after me. I can have some fun with this, I thought to myself. Instead of going straight on, in the direction of OMNS’ place, I turned left. Noah followed. Brilliant, I thought. I turned a mixture of rights and lefts. Going in circles and just blatantly in the wrong direction. After about forty minutes of my fun, I got bored and headed back to go check on Folio.

Arriving back at OMNS headquarters, I noticed that Noah wasn’t back yet. The peace that had enveloped me was shortly broken by the revving of an engine behind me. Noah was hot on my tail. When will this hell end?

The driver’s side door of the car opened and a very angry Noah stormed towards me.

“Stop fucking with me, princess.” He snarled.

“God, Noah it was just a bit of harmless fun.” I laughed.

“Yeah, sure, because potentially risking your life by pulling a stunt like that is fun?” Noah yelled at me, crossing his arms yet again.

“Seriously, Noah?” I laughed again, rolling my eyes at his ridiculousness.

“Yes, seriously, Vania.” Noah went on. “I don’t want you short circuiting before the job even gets started.”

“Ooh careful hotshot. You’re almost starting to sound like you care about me.” I mocked.

“Oh princess. You couldn’t pay me to care about you. Even in your wildest dreams.” He sneered.

Not wanting to continue this ridiculous conversation, I turned away from him and entered the garage. Matt greeted me in the kitchen.

“Hey V.” He smiled. Nice to see one of these idiots was capable of smiling.

“Hey Matt. Which room is Folio’s? I want to check on how he’s healing.” I asked.

“Yeah sure, it’s the second door on your left upstairs.” He offered with a grin.

“Thanks.” I made my way up the stairs just as Noah entered the kitchen.

The second door on the left was covered in graffiti and shitty drawings of motorbikes. God they had a lot of time on their hands. I raised my hand and knocked, not wanting to surprise him by barging in on him. A faint “come in” sounded through the empty hallway. I slowly opened the door, which creaked as it went, to reveal a dark room that was lit up by orange LED lights. Posters covered a large portion of the walls, all with images of motorbikes and half-naked women. I wasn’t sure what I expected but somehow that still surprised me.

“How you feeling?” I asked lightly.

“Eh. Been worse.” He replied with a weak smile.

Folio sat up in his bed that was shoved into the corner of the room, leaving space for him to leave mess everywhere. Dirty clothes littered the floor. His desk that lined the right-hand wall was covered in disassembled guns that either he had been cleaning, or using to build something.

“That’s good to hear. Mind if I take a look?” I gestured towards the bandages that were wrapped round his middle. His blue and green eyes glowed in the darkness.

“Sure. Have at it.” He lifted his left arm in compliance.

I unwrapped the bandages and dressings to reveal his wound. It had already started healing nicely thanks to the meds we had pumped him with the night before. Bryan had gone on a run to the Underground to grab some crap to make Folio’s injury heal quicker, and it looked like it was working.

“Looks good.” I assured him. “But I would rather you didn’t do anything crazy for the next few days. Take it easy. No jobs till I say so. Got it?”

“You got it doc.” Folio replied with a laugh.

He was so much nicer to be around than Noah.

“Need me to grab you anything?” I offered.

“Nah I’m good, thanks doc.” He answered with a bright smile on his face.

“How long are you going to call me ‘doc’ for huh?” I asked with a jokey side-eye.

“Forever probably… doc.” Folio replied with a smug grin on his face.

“You guys really love nicknames don’t you?” I laughed.

“Keeps shit light I guess.” He said.

“Yeah I guess so.” I replied as I got up to leave. “I mean it Folio. Nothing crazy.”

“Aye aye doc.” He laughed with a mock salute.

I closed the door and headed towards the room at the end of the hallway to meet the others. We still needed to plan tonight’s job.

I could hear a muffled conversation as I approached the room. It seemed heated. Entering the room, it became apparent that Nick and Matt were trying to calm down a very angry Noah.

“What’s going on?” I shouted over the arguing.

“Wow. This just gets better and better.” Noah yelled angrily with a fake laugh.

“What?” I asked again.

“Iris and Jaxon Martinez. Ring a bell, princess.” Noah directed at me.

“Yes, the people we are posing as to get into ERRA’s party, right” I replied.

“Exactly. Now, when were you going to share with the group that they are a MARRIED COUPLE?” Noah changed his anger back towards Matt.

Oh fuck. This was going to massively suck.

Silence fell in the room as what Noah just said echoed through.

“Wait. So does that mean that Noah and I have to pretend to be married?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” Matt answered after a pause.

Shouts of protest from myself and Noah filled the room.

“It’s not like you both have to do anything. Just go in together and stick together. That’s it.” Matt tried to diffuse the tension.

“Sure. Except from the fact that they are constantly touching each other. And the fact that their faces are constantly attached to each other’s.” Noah argued.

“That would have been nice to know before I fucking agreed to this dumbass plan Matt.” I yelled.

“I am not going anywhere near her like that.” Noah shouted in disgust.

“I am also not going anywhere near HIM like that.” I agreed.

“At least you guys are agreeing one something.” Matt suggested timidly.

“Go fuck yourself, Matt.” I screeched.

“We need a new plan.” Noah decided.

“There is no other plan. I have already fixed the invite.” Nick announced.

Fuck.

“Fine. We will just have to find a way around this.” I suggested.

“I cannot believe you are actually agreeing to this.” Noah yelled.

“Get your head out of your ass. It’s for one night then it’s done and we can move on.” I shouted in reply.

“Fine.” Noah caved.

“Great. Now let’s focus on tonight.” Matt sighed.

Noah had a white-knuckle grip on the edge of the table trying to calm his anger and focus on the plan.

Matt pulled up the map from last night again, focusing in on The Grey and zooming in on the second tallest building there. The top floor was lit up blue, indicating the penthouse apartment the Martinezes lived in. It looked like a larger version of how my own apartment looked from the outside, obviously significantly more luxurious than mine was.

A penthouse like this would be difficult to infiltrate as we would have to go up to that floor hopefully avoiding any security cameras that they might have installed and any security guards they have. It appeared that they didn’t own the entire building, which should play into our favour as they wouldn’t be allowed to CCTV the entire building with access from their penthouse suite.

“They don’t have access to the cameras except for the ones directly outside their front door.” Nick told us.

At least that helped us.

“If you go up first, Nick, would you be able to scramble the feed before they notice?” Bryan asked.

“I should be able to, depending on the type of system they use.” Nick answered.

“That’s still too much of a risk.” Noah sighed. “I don’t want to get up there and not have a way to scramble it. We would be asking to get caught by that point.”

“What if we just walk in?” I suggested.

“What do you mean?” Noah asked with a frustrated groan.

“Well, what if one of us knocks with a rouse to get in. Then we grab them.” I explained.

“But what rouse would we go with?” Matt asked.

“That’s the part I haven’t figured out yet.” I sighed.

Noah sighed loudly and pushed himself off of the table. He ran a hand through his perfect hair and began pacing the room in long strides. I was surprised he didn’t make himself dizzy with the amount of laps he did.

“What if you went up and asked for help, V?” Jolly suggested.

“Help with what?” I questioned.

“I don’t know, but people would want to help a young woman in need right?” Jolly went on.

“But these people are assholes Jolly. They wouldn’t give two shits about Vania, and I wouldn’t blame them.” Noah groaned in frustration.

Low blow. Thanks Noah.

“You are going in a good direction though, Nick.” I complimented. “But I don’t have the manpower on my own to take down two people on my own.”

“What if Noah was chasing you?” Matt broke the silence.

“Huh?” Noah and I said in unison. Sharing a glare with each other.

“What if he chased you up the stairs and barged into their apartment? Then you would have the manpower.” Matt elaborated.

“Yes I like that plan.” Nick replied with a snap of his fingers.

“So what, princess here gets a head start and I chase after her?” Noah asked.

“Exactly.” Matt and Nick answered in unison.

Noah and I shared a wary glance before agreeing to the plan. Nick would scramble the feed remotely from the armoured car outside after Noah and I were in the room so that there wouldn’t be any evidence of what we had done.

We explained the plan to Folio as well so he wouldn’t be out of the loop, then began getting together our equipment for the job ahead of us. Luckily for us, we wouldn’t need to bring any extra weapons in with us thanks to my mantis blades and Noah’s weaponised arm upgrades. That would save us a lot of trouble getting out rouse to be convincing enough for me to get into the apartment.

The armoured car was almost completely packed once all of us had taken a seat. When the time came for Folio to join us, there would be no room to breathe. I was sandwiched between Jolly and Noah. Nick and Matt sat opposite us and Bryan was in the front driving.

The plan was pretty basic. I would run up to their door, looking out of breath and bang on the door saying that I was being chased. Noah would run up after me ‘chasing me’ and hopefully the Martinezes would let me in, and Noah would barge in after, then we would take them out once the door was shut. Sure, there was a lot that could go wrong, but we had planned ways around them as best as we could.

We went over the plan several times on the ride over to The Grey. Noah seemed anxious. His hands twitched, his knee bounced up and down and his brow was furrowed.

Nudging his foot with my own, he looked up at me. You okay? I mouthed at him. He leaned closer until his lips were beside my ear, “Like you care.” He whispered angrily.

I glared at him angrily. God he really was insufferable. I honestly had no idea what I had done to offend him so much, besides the beef he had with my old crew. But the others seemed to have gotten over it, so why couldn’t he?

I turned away from him and looked out of the front window. We were almost there after twenty minutes of driving through the centre of the Concrete Jungle. Now, we were surrounded by skyscrapers and other buildings belonging to the elite. God that life must be incredible. Literally having credits to burn because you were so rich. That would be insane. I could turn away from this crime-filled life forever. No more dealing with Noah. No more pain. Only peace.

My daydreaming was rudely interrupted with a jab in my side from Noah’s freakishly pointy elbow as he shook his head at me. We had arrived at the building where the Martinezes lived. Much like the surrounding buildings, this one was tall. From the ground, it looked like it touched the sky, which was beginning to darken rapidly. Perfect. The building’s purple glow was getting progressively brighter as night encroached on the Concrete Jungle. It was time.

Nodding to the guys in the car, Noah and I began our journey into the building. The plan was to take the elevator halfway up the skyscraper, then walk the rest of the way so we both looked appropriately out of breath.

“This is a dumbass plan, princess.” Noah complained as we scaled the staircase.

“Yet here you are, asshole.” I breathed heavily.

“Not like I exactly had a choice.” He mumbled.

“I didn’t hear you suggest anything better.” I scoffed angrily. I was really starting to get tired of his moaning.

“Not like you gave me a chance. You barged into my life and fucked it up.” Noah snarled.

“Jesus Noah. It’s not exactly like I had a fucking choice in the matter did I?” I whisper-shouted at him.

“You didn’t have to sign that damn contract, princess.” Noah argued back.

“No, Noah. I did have to. One million credits is a big fucking deal.” I retaliated, hoping he would drop this.

“You could have taken a different job.” Noah huffed.

“Noah. How often has an opportunity like this crossed your path?” I snarled back at him.

Silence.

“That’s what I fucking thought asshole.” I finished.

We walked up a few more sets of stairs in silence. The stairwell was brightly lit, with white LEDs encasing us in an almost sterile light. We looked very out-of-place being here. The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was enough. That was before Noah felt the need to ruin it.

“Why do you need one million credits?” He asked.

“None of your fucking business asshole.” I replied flatly. He didn’t need to know anything about me. It wasn’t like we were friends.

“Just curious that’s all. Wondering what you were going to do with it. I need ideas on what to spend it on.” Noah replied calmly.

I had never had an interaction with him that wasn’t an argument.

“I don’t know. Rent I guess?” I replied bluntly.

“That’s boring, princess. I mean like something fun. Something cool. You could do literally anything you want with the money and your first thought is paying rent? Just seems boring.” Noah laughed.

“What if I want to save it?” I suggested.

“Why not invest it instead? Buy a business. Start a company.” Noah stated.

“Because I don’t want to, Noah. I just want to survive. Ill worry about having fun later.” I sighed. Already sick of this conversation.

“You are going to die bored, princess. Live a little. Go crazy.” Noah laughed.

“Since when do you care?” I threw back at him.

His expression changed.

“God, princess I was just trying to lighten the mood.” He snarled at me. Back to classic Noah.

“Well, don’t. We’re almost there.” I finished bluntly.

We both stopped walking and looked at each other for a second. There was a hint of something in his chocolate eyes that was different. I couldn’t quite place it.

“I’ll wait here for a couple seconds then chase you.” Noah stated plainly.

“Sounds good.” I answered.

“Get ready to run, princess.” He said menacingly.

With that, I turned on my heels and began running up the last three sets of stairs. I was completely out of breath when I got to the door at the top of the stairs. I stepped forward and started frantically banging on the door.

“HELP! HELP!” I screamed. Trying to sound as terrified as I could. “He’s chasing me!”

The door opened to reveal a woman about my height with bright blue hair. Iris Martinez. A man stood behind her. He was tall and well built. His hair was orange. Jaxon Martinez.

“Honey, are you okay.” Iris rushed.

“He’s going to get me. You have to help.” I begged, hoping she was buying the act.

“Who is sweetheart?” She knelt down next to me.

“I am.” A deep voice growled from behind me. That’s not Noah’s voice.

I looked up and both Jaxon and Iris wore a smirk on their faces.

I turned slowly and who I saw before me shook me to my very core. I knew this man well. He had made my life hell since before I had joined my last crew with Davis. He had hunted me for years at this point. JT Cavey. ERRA leader Jesse’s right hand.

“Hello again, Vania. It’s time to come home.”

Chapter 3

Anything > Human Masterlist Main Masterlist

#noah sebastian #bad omens au #bad omens #noah sebastian fic #cyberpunk #fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfic

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heyiwrotesomethings · 1 year ago

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Oh!!! It's a good thing I was staying up late or else I might've missed this!! (Oh god this got a lil long, I'm so sorry ajdgskahd)

Using she/her, how about a kakegurui one where R(eader) is a relative of Yumeko's, maybe her sister (or cousin could work too), and it's like. Yumeko's the fun loving one, her canon sister I imagine is the calm one, and R is like the angry takes no shit from anyone type, and she's there to watch over Yumeko's trouble attracting ass to keep her inline, so to focus on that, she doesn't gamble (Yumeko does enough of that for both of them) but now that's making trouble turn to R instead in the form of an infuriating Kirari, R like back talks to her and would probably bite a hand that gets too close if she has to, and when Kirari in one (underhanded) way or another manages to corner R into a gambling match with some poor soul so Kirari can observe her, R shows that she's just as good and insane as her relatives (though calms down faster?) , aaaahh I don't know what else to add on or how to end this, can't think much this late so here you go!! I hope you have fun!!

The Jabami Blood Flows

Jabami Sister Reader, Yumeko Jabami and Kirari Momobami (Platonic)

A/N: Here it is! Sorry I didn’t really get into the gamble. I couldn’t make myself research exactly how craps works and I’m not smart enough to calculate any math or cheats. The canon gambling timeline might be a little messed up too because it’s been awhile… But I think I captured the spirit of what you were asking for. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 2,523

(Y/n) couldn’t remember what life was like when her parents were alive, nor could she really remember what her oldest sister Souko was like before Yumeko had to send her away to live in that special hospital. All she knew was that life as a Bami was eat or be eaten, take or be taken from, and she hated it.

When Yumeko told (Y/n) of her plans to transfer to Hyakkaou, she was dead set against her going. That was where she went to school, Momobami Kirari. The one who had a hand in their older sister’s decline in mental health along with their own aunt. However, nothing that she said to Yumeko could get her to change her mind. So (Y/n) did what any good and responsible sister would do and filled out her own transfer papers so she could tag along.

It was difficult keeping track of Yumeko when they were two years apart, especially when the middle school was in a separate wing of the sprawling building.

But after she had heard about Yumeko becoming a house pet within the first week, (Y/n) had nearly blown a gasket. In retaliation, she quickly sized up the casino disguised as a school and realized the students could do basically whatever they wanted. (Y/n) was disciplined, a diligent worker and good student, so she got all of her schoolwork ahead of time and did it at home so she could keep an eye on Yumeko throughout the day.

She allowed Yumeko to take part in the Debt Swapping Game to undo the damage she had done to herself and her “new friend” Saotome, but after that (Y/n) was all over her… not that her nagging was very affective, unfortunately.

“You’re so cute when you pout!” Yumeko gushed, squeezing (Y/n)’s cheeks.

(Y/n) grabbed her sister’s wrists and groaned, “Neesan, I’m serious! No more gambling! We have the money, pay off the debt so you can stop wearing that ridiculous tag!”

“Sweet little sister, always looking out for me. You don’t worry so much, okay? I want to keep this tag just for awhile longer.”

“Why? It makes no sense, people treat you worse than an animal!” (Y/n) only got more upset the longer this conversation dragged on, “Get rid of it!”

“I’m not going to do that,” Yumeko smiled, somehow so carefree, “it makes for some really interesting gambles!”

“You’re so stupid!” (Y/n) suddenly yelled, finally shocking the smile off of Yumeko’s face, replaced by mild surprise, “It’s like you want to end up like Oneesan, you want to leave me all alone!”

“(Y/n)—“ Yumeko reached out her hand to (Y/n) but she ran passed her and kept running until she found an empty classroom to cry in.

She couldn’t cry forever though, and soon fell into a quiet, simmering anger that began to boil the more she thought about how their lives had come to this.

“Momobami Kirari.” She hissed hatefully. She ruined Souko and was in the process of taking Yumeko away from her too. Well, (Y/n) wasn’t going to standby quietly.

She wiped her eyes and and stood up, tromping through the halls, she followed the signs until she came to the Student Council room and without bothering to knock, she pushed the door open with a loud thump, making the pair that resided within look up.

“You can’t just charge in here like that!” Sayaka was quick to reprimand.

But Kirari put up a hand, “Don’t be troubled, Sayaka. It’s just one of my dear little cousins paying me a visit. I’d recognize a Jabami anywhere. Care for tea, (Y/n)? I haven’t seen you since you were quite small, you’ve grown a lot.”

“Jabami…” Sayaka’s mood soured a bit more. One Jabami was already one snake too many.

“And you look very cute in the middle school uniform.” Kirari continued on, tilting her head towards Sayaka, “I remember your middle school days Sayaka, you looked very cute in that uniform too, although this one is nice as well.” She tugged on the hem of Sayaka’s jacket for emphasis.

“Thah- thank you, President.” And like that, Sayaka was subdued, but still a little wary of their impromptu guest.

“I don’t want your stupid tea, or small talk!” (Y/n) yelled. “I want you to get rid of the house pet system!”

“You can’t just storm in here and demand such a thing!” Sayaka bristled.

“Ah, is Yumeko refusing to pay off her debt?” Kirari sat back in her chair slightly, “Unfortunately for you, I’m not inclined to accept your request. Your sister is just too fun to watch.”

“I hate you!” (Y/n) seethed, Kirari’s eyes widened, but it was clear amusement rather than surprise at the outburst, “I hate what the Bami clan is under your rule! If it was someone else— if things could have been different— My parents would be alive, Souko wouldn’t be in the hospital and you wouldn’t be trying to take Yumeko from me right now! I hate gambling! I hate that when people gamble, they are risking the happiness of people they are supposed to care about too! I hate you for pitting everyone against each other all the time! You have the power to stop all this before we all destroy each other for good, but you don’t use it, and I despise you for it!”

“Oh my,” Kirari cupped her between her thumb and index fingers, “so much resentment for a girl so young. Are you sure you aren’t Saotome’s little sister?” She chuckled.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Is it not? I find it a bit amusing at least. For someone with Jabami blood flowing through her veins, you are very adamantly going against your nature. It’s interesting. You might be one to watch as well.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I think Yumemi has plans for your sister today. You might want to start making your way to the auditorium to cheer her on.” Kirari said instead, steepling her fingers in front of her coral blue lips.

A look of realization and then dread fell over (Y/n)’s face. She gave Kirari one more glare, then bolted from the student council room.

“What a rude girl!” Sayaka huffed. “Has she no respect for upperclassmen at all?”

“Easy Sayaka,” Kirari soothed with a teasing lilt, “I think my week just became a little more interesting.”

***

In the days after Yumeko’s admittedly unique gamble against Yumemi, (Y/n) had taken to giving her dear older sister the cold shoulder. It made Yumeko sad and pouty of course, but until she could promise (Y/n) that she was done gambling for good, (Y/n) refused to talk to her. She started going back to her classes like normal instead of following her sister around and did her best not to think about all the bad situations Yumeko could be putting herself through.

But she couldn’t ignore her sister for long, not when an unfamiliar upperclassman came to her classroom to summon her for a gamble. Apparently, Yumeko had got herself in a lot more trouble than (Y/n) had dared thought possible, or so the house pet had claimed.

“Where is she? Yumeko!” (Y/n) ran into the room, only turning around when she heard the door lock behind her. “Hey! What are you doing? Open the door!”

“That was a lot easier than I thought it would be.”

(Y/n) whipped her head to the back of the room to see a tired looking upperclassman, another house pet, sitting at a fancy craps table in front of a large mirror that almost took up the whole wall.

“I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this to get back at Jabami for what she and Saotome did to me at that damn debt swapping game. You’re her little sister, right? What am I saying, of course you are.”

“What do you want? Who are you?” (Y/n) asked defensively.

“Kiwatari Jun.” The upperclassman answered with a smirk, “And I’m gonna turn you into a house pet.”

“Like hell you are. You can’t force someone into a gamble unless they are part of the council. Unlock the door.” (Y/n) commanded, but Jun chuckled darkly.

“You’re right, I can’t make you do anything, but the door is locked from the outside, and I don’t have the key.”

“Then I guess we’re just stuck here forever until we die.” (Y/n) hotly retorted.

“Not the case,” he knocked on the mirror behind him. “See this, it’s a one way window. People can see us, but we can’t see them. Once we gamble, someone will come and let us out.”

“I’m not going to gamble you.”

“You will. Word is your sister is going on a gambling tear without you yapping in her ear. She’s got a real big gamble coming up today with that crazy Beautification Committee officer. You know, the one who likes swinging a gun around.”

“Yumeko already gambled her and was disappointed. She wants nothing to do with Ikishima now.” (Y/n) had really hated that gamble. It was exceedingly frightening. She was glad Yumeko had been put off by Midari’s recklessness in some shape.

“She came up with a new gamble that really has your sister going. Safe to say she’s giving her another chance. I don’t expect you to believe me, but is it really a risk your willing to take? If you aren’t there… you might not see her again.”

(Y/n)’s blood froze. She didn’t want to believe this guy, in fact, she was sure he was lying, but her fear of losing Yumeko was stronger than reason. Saving Yumeko was the only thing she could think of that was truly worth gambling for…

“What is the game?” She finally asked through gritted teeth.

“Craps,” he swept his arm over the table, “A simple dice game, what do you say?”

“I want to test the dice.”

Jun exhaled though his nose, “Not a gambler, huh? You sure seem to know what to look for.”

“When you grow up in the world that I have, you can’t help but pick up a thing or two.” (Y/n) sat down at the opposite side of the table, she could feel her heartbeat picking up like it would at the starting line of a race, or before reading a speech in class. She hated the feeling. She hated how her body loved the feeling. The excitement of doing something that felt totally crazy.

Despite not remembering her mother very well, she was definitely her daughter. That blood flowed through her veins as it did with Yumeko and Souko. A red glow briefly reflected off of her eyes.

“Are we doing this, or not?”

All of Jun’s little tricks were exposed round after round, but even if (Y/n) had let them slide, she was rolling perfectly every time, a skill she had picked up by merely watching Souko practice as a toddler, just a baby even. If she wasn’t so dead set against gambling, she could probably be making millions of yen a week. Her playing style reminded Jun more of Mary, but every once in awhile, she’d make an absolutely insane call that could only be something a Jabami would ever think to do.

It didn’t take long before all of the money the student council had leant him was on the other side of the table and with it, his dreams of freeing himself from his house pet chains. Now he was another four million yen in the hole.

“No… you’re just a snot-nosed middle schooler!” He hissed, pounding his fists against the table, making the dice and chips clink together. “I was supposed to win.”

“Idiot.” (Y/n) smirked, the red gleam appeared in her eyes once more, “Don’t you know nothing is guaranteed in gambling, nothing but disappointment for someone anyway.” She got up from her chair, not even caring to take her winnings with her. “A pity a had to lose my no gambling streak because of you. You weren’t even a challenge.”

She walked over to the door, pleased to see it was already opening in anticipation of her approach. She was a little surprised to see it was Sayaka who opened the door, however. She was even more surprised when Sayaka pulled her forward and a zapping noise met her ears, followed by a heavy object hitting the ground. She turned to see Jun curled up on the floor and saw the taser in Sayaka’s hand. He must have been coming up to attack her for humiliating him so badly.

“You never learn, do you, Kiwatari?” Sayaka tisked, “Lose with dignity for once.”

“Thank you for the show, Jabami (Y/n).” Kirari rounded the corner seconds later. She must have been watching from the other side of the glass. Suddenly this impromptu gamble was making a lot more sense. Jun didn’t seem smart enough to come up with a scheme like this himself.

“I should have paired you up with someone interesting, but I wanted to see what I was working with first. You did not disappoint. We will have to do something like this again soon.”

“No way,” (Y/n) could already feel herself coming down from the brief high of gambling a upperclassman into submission, “I’m not going to let you catch me in a position like this again. No way in hell! Yumeko isn’t even in trouble, is she?”

Kirari smiled, “No, she’s not. However, I’m sure I could make an offer or two you simply would not be able to refuse. Whether it’s to forbid your sister from gambling in this school again, ending the house pet system, dethroning me as student council president, or even as the head of the Bami clan, I’m sure we could work something out. I think it would be really exciting for us to gamble one day.”

(Y/n) hated the shiver of excitement that ran up her spine. There were a couple of options in that short list she wouldn’t mind seeing to fruition, yet she shook her head and bumped into Kirari as she passed her.

“Just stay away from me!”

“I’ll be seeing you around, (Y/n). Have a good rest of your day.” Kirari waved, watching (Y/n) stomp away with amusement.

***

“Oh, (Y/n)?” Yumeko was surprised that after days of the cold shoulder, (Y/n) had sought her out for a hug, but she was very happy for the suprise affection to say the least and instantly returned the embrace. “You’re being so sweet to me! What brought this on, I wonder?”

“Don’t gamble with Ikishima ever again, got it?” (Y/n) ordered, “And always make sure you have your phone on you so I can ask you what you’re up to, okay?”

“Okay, okay!” Yumeko giggled, “You don’t have to worry. That person you just mentioned is dead to me anyway.”

A strangled moan of Yumeko’s name could be heard in the distance, but no one acknowledged it.

“Hey,” Yumeko’s eyes lit up, “let’s go do something fun this weekend. Just you and me, anything you want, okay?”

A small smile worked its way onto (Y/n)’s lips and she nodded, hugging her sister tighter.

“Yeah!”

#kakegurui x reader #kakegurui oneshots #kkg x reader #kkg oneshots #requests #anonymous

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