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corvuserpens · 25 days ago

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A Girl, An Ocean {A Black Sails Fanfic} - Ch. 2

Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Teen and up audiences Warnings: Hints at sexual abuse (with no actual SA) Category: Action adventure with romance Characters: Billy Bones, Hal Gates, James Flint, De Groot, Jean DuBois, Randall the cook, OC Relationships: Billy Bones/OC Additional tags: Original character-centric, canon character x original character romance, kinda alternative prequel to canon, canon compliant, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting sweetness, cute but also sexy, angst galore, found family, Hal Gates has two children now, canon typical violence Series: Part One of Six of A Girl, An Ocean Chapters: 2/13 Summary: Constance is introduced to the Walrus crew, with mixed results. A new friend is made and Billy reassures her she is safe. Author's note: Just as a quick disclaimer, there will be NO actual sexual assault/rape scenes in this fic, I am sick and tired of seeing them, reading them and thinking about them. I hate this trope and I want it to die in a ditch. For the sake of reality and plausibility there will be mentions of it, as at the beginning Constance will always fear it bc it makes sense. And then obviously there's what happens to Max later on. All warnings will be mentioned above, please be mindful of them! Stay safe and have fun.

Chapter ii.

The sun was barely above the horizon when we were brought up from the sick bay. Our crew and officers were no longer restrained by weaponry, but I noticed they were deliberately sticking to the side of the ship farthest from the pirate vessel. As for the pirates themselves, few of them were still on board. I spotted Mr. Gates somewhere close to the rails, overseeing their operation whilst they finished carrying the last of the cargo that interested them across the wooden planks linking the two ships.

That was when it dawned on me the impossibility of my plan: there were too many witnesses. On deck, on the rigging, on the highcastle, the forecastle, moving back and forth, and I was a lady in a pastel rose dress and heels that clicked loudly with every step. The only other thing that would attract more attention than me would be a bull in skirts. How was I going to get across unseen?

Obviously, I would need a distraction. But what could possibly draw their attention long enough and effectively enough for me to slip past both crews? I could go back down and search for a grenade. Set it off near the helm. That should do the trick. Problem was, it would take too long, and it would be a risk in and of itself. After all, what business did a lady have digging around the shots and munition? I would have to rush down to the shot locker or the magazine (which one of them stored grenades, again?), find the grenade and the flint and come back up, all without notice, then light it up without anyone seeing. By then, the pirates would be off. What else, then...?

My heart was beginning to sink in my chest as I scrambled for an idea. Something, anything. Shoot the pistol at the sky behind one of the officers and throw it overboard? No, that was silly. Take one of my companions captive and threaten her life unless they let me join? No, surely the pirate's charity wouldn't go far enough for them to care if I shot one of my own. Next idea...

Loud voices behind me drew my curiosity. Up on the bow of the ship, one of the officers was nose-to-nose with a pirate covered in tattoos and greasy black hair. I had been too preoccupied with my escape to catch the beginning of the argument. One of them threw a hand at the other's face, I couldn't tell who from so far back. All I knew was that suddenly, a crowd from both sides was rushing forward to break up the fight that ensued. A ruckus rose up as the pirates cheered for their mate, Gates bellowed at the top of his lungs, the officers admonished their compatriot, the children laughed, the women screamed. All eyes were focused solely on those two men.

I could not believe my luck and I wasn't going to wait around to see how the fight ended. Taking this golden opportunity, I lifted my skirts, hopped onto the closest plank and stumbled across as quickly as my dainty shoes allowed.

Before I knew it, I had made it to the other side. On the HMS Delilah, the humors were beginning to cool and the situation brought under control, which meant time was short. I tossed my heels over the rail to avoid making noise and sneaked down to the gun deck, then into the storage. If there was anywhere in that ship for me to hide, it would be in that labyrinth.

It was very dark and cold down there, but at least it was dry. I took one of the lanterns hanging near the ladder with me. The first thing I encountered at the bottom of the steps were the rats – giant rats, the size of rabbits, scurrying about in their dozens. I brought the hand holding the pistol to my mouth to muffle a scream and almost broke my own nose. I hadn't even thought about the possibility of sharing my hiding hole with pests. Jesus Christ, they were awful looking things. I wondered if they would bite. Oh God, please don't let them near me.

I shut my eyes tight and sucked in a great breath to master my panic. There was no time to worry about bloody rats. I had to find somewhere to hide, quickly. Summoning whatever courage I had left, I took hesitant steps forward and tried to shoo the animals out of my path. I recalled my cousin's advice to use the butt of the pistol as a bludgeon after shooting, as they were designed that way for that exact purpose, and carefully maneuvered it around until I held the barrel in my fist. In an emergency, I could always try and hit them.

Finally, many compartments (and rats) later, I found the sails storing room and tucked myself among them like a bird in its nest. It occurred to me that I should blow out the lantern, but I wasn't brave enough, not for that. The idea of being shrouded in darkness with all those rats made my skin crawl. Besides, how would I find the way back out without it? Instead, I used my knife to cut a piece of my underthings and cover up the lantern, to at least stifle the light. This way I could still see, but it would be harder to find me. Gosh, it was cold down there. And it stank of fish and tar and gunpowder. I told myself it was only for a while, which offered little comfort. I huddled tight in the sails, keeping close to the light for a bit of warmth, and waited.

***

It was hard to tell time down there. By my calculations, it should be eight o'clock in the evening, perhaps nine. I couldn't hear much beyond the scurrying of the rats and the creaking wood. Occasionally, I heard distant footsteps and loud voices. I wouldn't allow myself to think of what I had left behind. Regret was a luxury I could no longer afford. The choice was made – now the battle for survival began.

And that battle was announced by none other than my own stomach. In the midst of all the excitement I hadn't had anything to eat and its growls filled the compartment like a beast waking from a deep sleep. It was fortunate then that I had selected the storage to hide in. Food was bound to be somewhere nearby. Just a piece of bread would suffice for the moment, just to dull the throbbing in my belly. A little water wouldn't hurt, either. My mouth was dry as parchment.

However, just as I was getting ready to stand and make as the rats do, I heard more footsteps, much closer than before. Someone had just stopped at the top of the ladder. Holding my breath, I prayed with all I had that they were just making a run of the deck and would be leaving soon, that they wouldn't be coming down to storage and find me.

But it seemed my luck had run out. As the hatch was opened, spilling light in from the gundeck, and the sound of boots came down the ladder, I snatched up the pistol and pulled the hammer, ready to shoot. I blew out the lantern, engulfing the tight space in darkness in hopes of going unnoticed a little while longer, but it was useless. Not too far from me, a stronger light came forward. The rats ran up to me and scattered in the wake of whomever approached. Accepting my inevitable discovery, I took a couple of deep breaths and prepared myself.

A large lantern loomed over the sails, exposing me. And who held it up to look down on me if none other than Mr. Gates in person. He didn't seem too surprised to find me holed up in the bowels of his ship.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He sighed in exasperation.

I froze, scrambled for an appropriate answer. Upon seeing there was none for a situation as strange as this, I swallowed hard and mumbled: “I... got lost?”

His mustache ruffled with a barely contained laugh. When he saw the pistol in my hand, he shook his head and snatched it faster than I could react. “Give me that.” He pulled the safety on, shoved it into the girdle around his wide waist without ceremony, and gave me a stern look, laced with just a hint of concern. At last, he offered me a hand. “Come with me.”

As we made our way up to the surface, I had no clue what to expect. I hadn't thought this far ahead, figuring I would improvise as I went. One thing I knew: whatever was to happen next, I would face it with my head held high, knowing I had tried. Even if it were all to end in failure, I had been brave enough to take a risk, to stare danger in the eye and say "I'm not afraid of you." I had been bold enough to reject the destiny allotted to me and seize a new one, pistol in hand and guts as hard as steel. That, no one could take away from me.

Mr. Gates led me down the gun deck, toward the stern, without saying a word. Staring at his back, I had no way of knowing what he must be thinking. That perhaps I wasn't as smart as he had thought. That perhaps I was just insane. Both excellent possibilities. We passed by many pirates on the way. Upon seeing me, they wasted no time jumping at the opportunity to take a closer look - too close, in my opinion.

"What have here?" One of them barked, immediately attracting the attention of those further away. The thought crossed my mind that this must be how the fox felt when caught by the hounds: cramped, stuck, horribly vulnerable.

"A stowaway!" Another howled somewhere to the right. Now, the men pushed and shoved each other to take a peek over countless shoulders, their hungry eyes running over my figure like wolves salivating at the thought of sinking their teeth into my flesh. "Oy, Mr. Gates! Can we play with her for a minute? We promise to be gentle."

A chorus of laughs and jeers deafened me. Behind me, I felt a hand brush against my skirts, making me jump away with a shameful squeal that only made them laugh harder. Blood rushed to my ears, pumping loudly into them like drums inside my skull, and still it wasn't enough to drown out their cackles.

Another hand touch me, grabbing my sleeve. This time, I was ready: instead of skipping in fright, I let my own hand swing out, palm wide open, to smack those filthy fingers away.

"Don't touch me!" I roared at the top of my lungs, hating how hysterical my voice sounded.

"Oh, watch it!” One of them jested, the tattooed man who had gotten into a fight with the officer at the Delilah. “She bites! I like it when they fight back..."

More hands reached out for me, too many for me to swat away. I could have reached for my knife, but the panic had made me forget it was even there.

Mr. Gates had had enough. With a glare that promised swift retribution should his warning go unheeded, he roared: "Unless you all wish to be tied to the main mast and get acquainted with the cat o' nine one after the other, you will all stay as you fucking were! Right now!!"

To my great astonishment, they obeyed. The noise gradually died down, the pirates backed off and no one else tried to have a go at me.

"Aw, c'mon Gates,” the tattooed man grinned with horribly stained teeth. “It was just a bit of fun!"

"I know exactly what your fun entails, Fred." He snarled. "And you will not have it with this woman. She's a guest of the captain and will be treated as such. Now get out out of my way before I change my mind about that flogging."

Amidst grumbles and disappointed glances thrown my way, the pirates dispersed and returned to whatever they were doing before our arrival. Mr. Gates continued to guide us through the ship until we reached the great cabin, where I guessed captain Flint was waiting.

The image of that infamous pirate commander staring at me from the highcastle flashed back into my mind. My soul had all but departed from my body when he had been a good distance away, so I was not eager to be put face-to-face in closed quarters with him. What was he going to do with me? Throw me off the ship the second we reached the nearest port? Would he throw me off the ship there and then, into the open ocean? Or would he let his crew do as they pleased with me, leaving Mr. Gates powerless to stop it...?

The double doors loomed over us like a portent of doom. They might as well be the gates of hell, the effect would be the same. For the first time since I had set foot aboard the Walrus, I felt afraid. Not frightened; not scared. Completely, thoroughly and undeniably afraid.

Gates rapped on the door and opened without waiting for an invitation. He held it open for me, yet I found myself unable to move. I could see Flint's desk, his hand resting on it and little more, for the cabin was poorly illuminated by a small number of lanterns. My eyes snapped to Gates' in search of reassurance, but all he did was gesture for me to come inside. With no other choice than to face one of the most terrifying men that had scourged the seas, I dragged my bared feet inside and tried not to shudder when the door close behind me. There really were no means of escape, now.

The captain sat back on his great chair, finely carved in black wood, one elbow resting on the arm as he examined me. Like earlier, his hair was tied back, allowing me to see his eyes in full. Outside in the sunlight they were clear colored - blue or maybe green - but in that dim room, they were almost black and ten times as piercing, bottomless as the deep sea. His ginger beard barely concealed a permanent scowl.

Behind him, the vast windows probably offered a clear view of the ocean during the day, but at that hour, it was pitch black outside with the exception of the moonlight illuminating the foamy astern. Was this what it felt like to be put before Satan after one was cast unto Hell? I was certain it was so.

Mr. Gates stepped forward and positioned himself between me and Flint's desk. “Found her in the sail stores, like I told you.”

I stared at him wide eyed. He had known I was aboard the entire time? As if reading my thoughts, the quartermaster smirked.

“What? Did you think no one would notice a woman trying to sneak aboard? My dove, you didn't steal yourself in here with cunning. You were allowed in.”

My fingers grasped the fabric of my skirts. I supposed it really was too much luck. In which case, it begged the question... “Why?”

Both Gates and Flint studied me, the former with curiosity, the latter with a cold, calculating gaze.

I continued: “If you knew I was here, why didn't you reveal me? Why let me hide below instead of returning me to the Delilah when you still could?”

The two men traded a look that made me suspect they'd had that same discussion already. It was Flint who spoke up next:

“I suppose the most important question is: what in the world possessed you to come aboard a pirate ship alone, knowing there was no way in which you could keep yourself hidden for more than a few hours at most?”

I had to pause for a minute and collect myself. This was a test of some sort, I was sure of it. It had to be. They genuinely wanted to know my reasons for this decision; lying was out of the question. As my fate seemed to rest upon my answer, and although I could still have made up a lie or two to sound more convincing and less brattish, in the end I thought there was only one thing I could truly offer them: the truth.

“All due respect... You don't know what it's like to have all your choices taken from you since birth. To be forced into a role you never felt was yours and told this is what you can ever be. I didn't want to be a proper lady, yet they would make me perform as one, and perform perfectly, every day of my life. Nothing short of that was acceptable. But I don't want to become someone's wife and bear his children every other year until it kills me, or be a servant in every sense of the word except in name while snuffing out every instinct to follow my own desires and be only myself. I don't choose that. I will not accept that.”

With each word that left my lips, I was surprised to note I felt... lighter. Like I had been carrying a heavy burden all my life and had finally been allowed to toss it aside and stand straight for the first time. I had never told anyone about how I really felt about my life or my future, afraid I would be reproached, even punished for speaking out of line. Here, on the cusp of something different, something better, I felt as if I could speak my mind without judgement.

“This choice may be my end. I may die today, tomorrow, a week from now, and perhaps it will be you who gives the order to cut my life short, but if I do die, then at least I'll do it free and the consequences of this choice will be mine and mine alone to bear. I would rather spend a minute in total freedom than a lifetime in chains.”

All throughout my speech, Flint's eyes didn't leave mine. They were as unpredictable as the sea and just as unforgiving. Yet, deep enough to engulf me... to accept me. It wasn't spite or scandal that I saw in them; it was understanding.

He brushed down his beard and sat back. “Hmm. I see. What was your intention then, after getting caught? What was it you hoped to accomplish?”

I flexed my fingers and swallowed hard. “I... I was hoping you would let me join your crew.”

Contrary to what I had expected, neither of them laughed or even snorted at the notion of letting me join. A long moment of silence neither I nor Mr. Gates dared interrupt passed. Flint let his hand rest upon the desk once more. “And this is how you convinced yourself coming onto my ship was a good idea, yes?”

It sounded so foolish when he put it that way, that my face warmed. “That is correct.”

That's when he laughed - a stifled, delighted sound that I could barely hear through a toothy grin, but not the kind that found me amusing or ridiculous. He laughed as if I had surprised him and that didn't happen often. He looked me up and down, evaluating my figure: my pink dress, covered in tar and dust stains, my disheveled hair which had come loose from it's original position at my nape, my bared feet, my wide, hopeful eyes. If my Father could see me then, he would say I looked a fright and send me to bed without dinner.

Another long pause followed. Then: “You're wrong, you know?”

I blinked, confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“You're wrong,” Flint repeated. “About us, about them. They do understand what it's like to be forced into conformity by circumstances outside of their control. Many of them are former slaves who found freedom in piracy. Most were working class paupers, oppressed by the upper echelon with miserable wages and unsanitary living conditions to ensure England's regime remains standing. They found a better life aboard ships like this one, where the work is no less grueling, but the pay is far better. They get to choose who they work for, when to sail, when not to sail. On land, they aren't restrained by rules of etiquette or decency: they are free to pursue their desires unconditionally for as long as they have the coin to spare.”

He pointed at the door with a half smile. “Each one of those men have their own story to tell, and if you pay attention, you will find similarities to your own as you get to know them. There are far fewer differences between you and them than you imagine. That is what you will find out in the coming weeks as you acclimatize yourself to this life.”

My heart hammered in my chest to those words, brimming with relief. “So... you will let me stay?”

“As long as you don't become a burden, or worse: a liability.” Just as quick as his grin came, it was gone, that dark expression from before returning to his brow. “Learn fast. Keep an open mind. Pull your own weight. And Miss Tilly?”

I stood straight and attentive, the same way I'd seen soldiers do in the presence of their commander. It was an unconscious gesture, fully unintentional, like my body had already accepted Flint as my leader before I even made the decision to call him captain. “Yes... Sir?”

The faintest flash of a smirk crossed his lips. “Stay alert and don't let your guard down, because if you get into trouble with those men out there, you're on your own. Do you understand? I can't be everywhere all the time, and neither can Mr. Gates. If you find yourself in danger, we may not be able to help you. On most situations, we cannot help you. That would make it look like we're showing favoritism for you, which would breed resentment and lead to a mutiny. If anything happens, you are the only person who will be responsible for your own safety. Are you prepared for that?”

Uneasiness crept up from my toes to the crown of my head. How in the devil was I supposed to manage that, I hadn't a single clue. That was for me to figure out, is what he was telling me. I just... had to search for a way to keep myself safe. Whatever the cost. Knowing the kitchen knife was still in my pocket gave me some comfort. Not much, but enough.

I bit my lip and nodded firmly.

“Good.” The captain turned to his quartermaster. “Mr. Gates, see if you can find her some appropriate clothes and assign her a hammock. At dawn, I want her at Mr. de Groot's side so she can begin to learn the basics. Report back to me on her progress at eight bells after every last watch, please. That is all.”

“Aye, Captain.” the other replied, then ushered me out the door. Just like that... It was done. I was officially a pirate.

“Well!” He smiled at me and wiped the sweat from his forehead.“That went better than I expected. So, as quartermaster, let me officially say: welcome aboard the Walrus. Now, I doubt we'll find anything that fits you, and fair warning, it has been a while since any clothes in this chestnut have been washed...” His mouth pulled into a sheepish line before he went back to smiling. “When we arrive in Nassau we'll find you a better suited attire, not to worry. What's important is that you don't go parading around in your underthings. Come along.”

I followed him down into storage again, which meant having to pass through the crew a second time. I took a deep breath, shoulders squared and head held high, determined to show I wasn't afraid of them. The first hand I felt coming within an inch of me would feel the bite of my hidden blade. See if that didn't get them to stop.

Thankfully, no such thing was necessary. The men were busy washing their warpaint off with spare cloth, or moving things around and enjoying a drink after the fight. They still cast pointed looks my way, with a few making kissing noises as Gates and I walked past, but no one tried anything.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Billy's towering figure while conversing with a man with a thick, dark beard. They interrupted whatever they were talking about to observe the scene. The bearded man ran his eyes up and down my figure like he was undressing me in his mind and hummed what was no doubt a very uneducated comment, which prompted Billy to smack his shoulder with a stern look. He whispered something in return and the other stopped, rubbing his hand where he'd been hit before turning his back on me with a bitter expression on his features.

Good to know at least one person on that ship had manners.

Down in the bowels of the ship again, Mr. Gates searched a chest full of spare clothes and shoes, tossing aside those too large to stay on my back or feet. It took a while, but at last he handed me an off-white linen shirt with only a couple of holes on it, stripped cotton pants in shades of pine green and pastel rose, a leather belt and a simple pair of worn brown shoes.

“I don't think we have spare coats, but should you feel cold at night, there's blankets. You can change here, no one will bother you. When you're done, meet me on the upper deck.” And off he went up the stairs.

After hearing the sound of the hatch being closed, I began to remove my layers, one by one, leaving only my stays to keep my breasts covered. Just like Mr. Gates said, the clothes didn't fit me – they were tailored for a young boy and hung loose off of my shoulders and hips even so. I had to wrap the belt twice around my waist and tie it off, as it didn't have enough holes to buckle. And the shoes... they fell off my feet with each step and I seriously worried they would make me trip and hurt myself. Even so, I wasn't ready to walk around without so much as knickers to bar the soles of my feet from the filthy decks. I simply would have to take care walking.

Another thing Gates had been right about: the clothes stank of sweat and alcohol, enough to make me gag. I didn't even want to think about where they had been. I cast my pink dress one last look of longing. For all the constraints and expectation wearing it put on me, it was still comfortable and, above all, clean. But there was no time to dawdle on what I was giving up for this new life. Gates was waiting for me. Don't be a burden, or worse: a liability. I took Flint's request to heart. Leaving my old apparatus in the chest, I tucked my knife into the pocket of my pants and made my way upstairs. The only thing I brought with me from my old life was my cross, which had been a gift from my older sister when I had turned sixteen. Being a somewhat devout catholic, it had brought me comfort many times in the past.

When I first emerged from the ladder, the pirates didn't notice. Out of my dress and jewels, I blended in a little better among them. It wasn't until I took a couple tentative steps down the deck that heads started turning. At least now there were no hungry looks in their eyes, rather they were confounded at the transformation. I crossed my arms over my front and slouched, somehow feeling much smaller and vulnerable in my men's wear than I had been in my dress. I felt judged, scrutinized out of my appointed clothing and gender dictations. No comments or jeers followed me as I sped up toward the bow to find Mr. Gates, eager to leave their stares behind.

In the galley, where the smell of roast potatoes, bread and broth wafted into my nose and reinvigorated my stomach, Mr. Gates waited for me, and he wasn't alone. Billy, an older gentleman with a mess of gray curls and permanent stone face, plus a younger boy, pale and gangly, were with him. Gates glanced at me without a second thought, continued to talk, then snapped his attention back when he realized who I was.

“Ah, here she is. I hardly recognized you in those.” He laughed, nudging me closer when I stopped at a certain distance from him and the others. “Don't be afraid, they won't bite. Now.”

He held me by the shoulders, facing his mates. “Gents, this is our newest addition, Miss Constance...?”

A bloated pause, then I realized they were waiting for me to give my surname.

“Tilly!” I stuttered, flushed with embarrassment. Fortunately, none of them laughed or even reacted to my awkward introduction. “Constance Tilly.”

“Constance Tilly.” Mr. Gates nodded, patting my shoulders. “You already met Billy Bones, our boatswain. Next to him is Mr. De Groot, the helmsman. He's the one who will be teaching you the basics come morning. And last but not least, this is Jean duBois, also a recent addition to the crew. “

The boy, Jean, tipped an invisible hat and offered a smile. “Bonsoir, Mademoiselle.”

“Hello.” I began to curtsy before remembering where I was and catching myself. Off to the side, in the mess hall, I heard snickers – a small group of rough looking crewmen were watching our introductions like a very interesting play. One of them, a bald man covered in gnarly scars, did a mocked impression of a lady curtesing, fluttering his eyelashes much to his friends' delight. Great.

Billy shot them a foul look over the shoulder. “Don't you idiots have anything to do? 'Cause I can think of a few tasks to keep you busy.”

They hurried and made themselves scarce in an instant.

Mr. Gates released my shoulders. “You must be hungry, aye? You're just in time for dinner.”

He approached the wild-eyed man behind the counter, whom I assumed to be the cook since he was cutting carrot sticks and tossing them into the pot on the stove. “Randall, are we ready to eat or is it gonna take the rest of the night?”

“It'll be done when it's done,” the man growled. I was shocked by his manners; from the way everyone else straightened up and even cowered before Gates, I would assume the whole crew owed him respect as quartermaster, but the cook seemed not to care a bit in how he spoke to him.

And even more surprising was Mr. Gates' reaction to such insubordination: he chuckled and shook his head, dismissing it all as if it were nothing.

“Anyway, there's someone I'd like you to meet.” He gestured me over. “This is Constance, a new member. Try and be nice to her, please.”

Randall turned to look at me, eyes bulging out of their sockets. With a gulp, I took an instinctive step back and gave Gates an inquisitive look, but he just kept smiling, waiting. Randall pointed a three-toothed prong at my chest.

“Bad luck,” he warned. “Women and ships don't mingle. It's bad luck.”

This wasn't the first time I heard such a comment. It was, however, the first time someone spoke it blatantly to my face. I was so struck with disbelief and, frankly, offense, that I couldn't move or even react.

Gates' beady eyes jumped from Randall to me, and back to Randall. “Don't mind him. Got a thorough beating and it rattled his brain half dead. He doesn't mean anything by it.”

“Bad luck,” he grumbled to his carrots.

I decided it was best to ignore him.

Dinner was in full swing at two bells (or was it three? The bell system confounded me, around seven in the evening). I was sat down with Jean duBois and the other new recruits. Mostly, they talked amongst themselves and ignored me, though I caught them glancing my way once or twice before they quickly turned their gaze elsewhere. I half listened to them talk while moving my broth around in its brass bowl. Sticky, with barely any meat to it, and what meat there was it was as tough as the leather of my shoes. The bread was fresh, we had that going for us. I dipped it into the broth and brought it to my mouth. Honestly, I was too tired and famished to care what was on my plate.

“It doesn't get much better than that, I'm afraid.”

I looked up to see Jean smiling apologetically, no doubt having noticed I was playing around with my food. He had a French accent, but not so heavy that I couldn't make out what he was saying.

I shrugged. “It's alright. It's not much different from the food I've had on other ships.”

That was a lie, of course. As a lady of the high class, I'd had significantly better meals than this, no matter the ship. I wasn't about to tell them that, though. They had enough verbal cannon fire to unload on me already. I wasn't going to help them procure more.

I tried the roasted potatoes; those weren't so bad. Jean continued to observe me, I could feel his gray eyes on me.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

He seemed to catch himself and sat up straight, cheeks turning rosy. “No, no. Forgive me, it's just... We never had a woman on board. And it's been a couple of months since we last saw one, so...” He shook his head and waved a hand in dismissal. “Forgive me. Never mind what I said.”

The food turned to stone in my belly. With a chill, I looked around at the mess hall, uncomfortably aware of all the men that surrounded me. Two whole months since they last saw a woman, and from what I was told, we were still a few weeks away from reaching port.

The sound of repeated clinking got me to look down. My hand was shaking so bad that the spoon was hitting the bowl like a chime out of control. I smacked it on the table, startling the others into silence.

“Don't worry!” Jean quietly exclaimed in an attempt to reassure me. “We... Well, I'll be bunking next to you, so I'll keep watch. I won't let anyone come near you, I swear. And Mr. Gates wouldn't allow it, either. They're too scared of what he might do to them, should anything happen. To any of us, not just you. So... You're safe. Relatively.”

I stared at him, doing my best to disguise how faint I felt. Because the truth was, no matter his intentions, or whether or not they were truthful, I didn't trust Jean himself not to do anything while I slept. Even if he didn't, he was a lowly deckhand, like me. If the other, more sea hardened men decided they wanted to have their way with me, I doubted there was much he could do. Slowly, I pushed my bowl away from me and nipped on the bread. So much for my hunger.

After dinner, Mr. Gates came to fetch me and took me to the hammock allotted for me. It hung at the far front of the ship, next to the manger with all the animals. The stink of manure and goat hair was so abrasive I had to turn my head so he wouldn't see me gag. What's more, this close to the bow, the ship swayed up and down more heavily. I struggled to keep my footing and had to hold onto a ceiling beam to avoid rolling down the deck.

“This is yours.” Gates laid a hand on the cloth while he spoke to me. “Lights out is at six bells, or eleven o'clock. Toilets are at the back, way down there.” He pointed. Silently, I prayed I wouldn't have to use it that night. “If you need anything, Billy's bunk is right over there.”

I turned to see the empty hammock only four rows down from mine and breathed a little easier. Surely, no one would dare making advances when he was so near and could catch them.

“He goes out for the middle watch at first bell, but you can ask Jean for anything you need. He's a good lad, you can trust him. He will be relieved from duty at the same hour Billy is going out and is staying on the hammock next to yours. I left him orders to wake you for the morning watch. Be at the helm after breakfast and try not to be late. Any questions?”

I shook my head no.

"Good. In that case, I'll see you in the morning. Sleep tight." He gave my arm a tap and marched down the deck. As for me, I pulled off my shoes, tucked them under my hammock and hopped in.

Most of the men were still up and about, doing various things. Some were resting, others were playing cards. At the far side, a short, lightly built man in his fifties was tuning a violin, filling the ship with long notes that weren't unpleasant to listen to. On a secluded corner along the middle, a burly man with deep brown skin and long, dense ropes of hair falling down his back (later I learned these were called "dreads") carved away at a piece of wood.

Since I had nothing to entertain myself with and no one to talk to, I figured I should get comfortable and try to rest. However, my skin was clammy with sweat and grime after all the excitement, which didn't help me relax, but frankly, I was too worn out to get up and find some water to wash with. Plus, I didn't feel very at ease undressing in a ship full of strange men. It was hard enough convincing myself to go unconscious knowing they were out there, no matter how much Jean tried to assure me that I was safe. Between my apprehension, the stink coming from the pen, the rocking of the ship, the dirt covering me and the noise the crew was making, I had a feeling I wouldn't be sleeping much.

I unfurled my blanket to cover my legs, lied back and pulled the knife out from my pocket to hold it tight to my chest in both hands. The blade might be tiny, but it was a weapon, a small security to put my spirit to rest. If I had to use it...

God, what if I had to use it? I could seriously injure somebody, or worse, I could kill them. How would the captain respond, if I were to murder one of his crew on my first night? How would Gates react? Would I be justified if I claimed self-defense? After all, no one needed to get hurt so long as they didn't hurt me first. It was only natural that I respond to violence with violence.

Still... when I held a gun to Billy Bones to protect myself and those women, I had been an adversary to the Walrus and her men. Now I was one of them. Would it be different then, if the worst came to pass and I was forced to use that knife?

I closed my eyes and prayed to God and all Saints who were still willing to hear me as a pirate that nothing would happen. That I would be left alone, and if not, either Billy or Jean or anyone with a little kindness in their heart would look out for me so I wouldn't need to take drastic measures. Sudden loud voices from down the deck made me jerk up from my hammock, but it was just the group playing cards arguing over a wager. Panting, with a heart racing like a rabbit's, I lowered myself down again and stared at the ceiling, listening to the men accusing each other of cheating to the sound of the violin as it played a lively tune. I glanced at Billy's empty hammock and decided I would remain awake until he turned in. Only then would I lower my guard and try to sleep.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long. He came down from the main deck minutes after I turned in, doing a quick round of the ship before bed. I noted that every man he spoke to had a ready smile for him and treated him like an equal instead of a superior. It wasn't at all like on the Delilah, where the boatswain enjoyed the reverence and respect of the crew just as much as the captain. Here, he was treated like a friend. They invited him to join their game and re-tell the story of what had happened on my ship (the tale had already been spread during dinner), but he turned them down with the excuse that he needed some shut-eye after a long day. He reminded them that lights out would be soon and wished them goodnight.

He stopped to trade a few words with the man carving on his corner, asking him about an injury he'd suffered during the assault (apparently, he'd been slashed with a saber across the belly). The man said he would live, though Dr. Howell, the surgeon, had instructed him to go easy with the stitches. Billy agreed, wished him a quick recovery and to let him know if there was anything he could do for him. The carving man smiled in appreciation, thanked his boatswain and began to clean up for bed.

At last, Billy made it to his bunk. He sat down to remove his boots and his eyes crossed with mine. There was a moment of awkward hesitation, then he decided to approach my hammock, bared feet thumping softly against the wood floor. As discreetly as possible, I concealed my knife under my right side. He ducked under the ceiling beam and smiled. "Can't sleep?"

I bit my lip and shook my head. "Yeah, kind of hard with all the noise, aye? You get used to it. Lights will be out soon, then it gets easier." I nodded, pondering on whether I should say anything about my concerns or stay quiet. Don't be a burden. If you get into trouble with those men out there, you're on your own. Flint's words echoed in my mind, time and time again. But there was such genuine concern in Billy's gaze. Clearly, he wanted to ask me if I was well, same way he had done with the carving man or the other crewmen. I doubted there was much he could do to help me, but... maybe he could at least offer some advice. I sat up on my hammock and pushed my hair out of the way. Too intimidated to look him in the eye, I kept my focus on the strings of necklaces adorning his chest. "It's not just the noise that's bothering me..." He frowned and kept quiet, waiting for me to elaborate.

Slowly, I revealed my knife, clutched in my hand. "I'm a little... preoccupied by what might happen while I sleep. Jean told me you've been at sea for a while. Y'know... with only the company of other men?"

Like a candle lighting up, understanding softened his expression. He nodded a couple of times while pausing deep in thought. At last, he clicked his tongue and said: "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I mean, they are tempted, of course, but they won't do act on it." I tilted my head aside, surprised by his confidence. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because Gates and I told them if we had even the slightest suspicion that you were being abused, it would be the last thing they would do aboard the Walrus. You wouldn't even have to say anything; we would know." My frayed nerves started to settle, little by little. With the way he stated that so securely, how was I to not trust it? There was a firm sincerity in his words and his eyes, a deep conviction that his command - and by extention, Gates' - were sacred law and broken at one's own peril. Off-hand, I wondered how such an honest soul could ever have become a pirate and mingle with this band of thieves so easily. Maybe because there is a hidden darkness he is yet to reveal, a voice quipped in my brain. Even so... I felt tranquilized.

I turned the knife in my hands, studying the blade and simple wooden handle. "I believe you. Truly. But... let's hypothesize that someone did come at me during the night with foul intentions and I was forced to use this. What should I expect to happen, then?" Now he smirked playfully. "So pulling a pistol on me is fine, but using a kitchen knife to defend your honor in a pirate ship is too much?" I didn't know how else to respond to that except with a shrug and a stutter, which got a brief laugh out of him. Then he sobered up and shifted his weight. "About... half the crew wouldn't be happy, given. The other half would think it was your right to defend yourself. Hell, they might even respect you for it. If you ended up killing him, even by accident... That would be a problem, so.... My advice is, stab away, but don't take it too far."

"How do I do that?" "If someone gets too close, do as you did with me and show you have a weapon and you're not afraid to use it. If they still come at you, aim for a leg, an arm or here." He pointed to a spot on the left side of his stomach, just bellow the rib cage. "This will hurt like hell and send him to Howell, but he won't die. Oh, and avoid the inner side of the thigh. There's an artery there that will make you bleed out in a handful of minutes if severed."

I committed that spot on the stomach to memory and hummed that I understood. Billy eyed the knife for bit and added: "And get a better knife than that. Something you can strap to your hip and reach for quickly. Carry it with you always. Most of the time, a conspicuous weapon is all the demotivator you need."

My eyes roamed to his own waist; there, hanging from his belt next to a flintlock pistol, was a sheathed knife of considerable size. Immediately, I thought I had to get my hand on one of those. I glanced up at him.

"I'll be sure to do that. Thank you... For everything." Then I dropped my gaze, shifted awkwardly on my hammock. "And sorry for threatening to shoot your face off." "That's fine. It wasn't my first time, nor will it be the last. Besides, I thought it was brave. I can count on one hand the number of women I ever knew who would have the guts to do what you did." He winked at me, bid me good night and moved out to get some rest. I stayed up for a while longer, doing my best not to smile so wide or feel so good about those words. Truth be told, though... I did. That was two instances when people saw my worth, regardless of my sex. Never mind it came from pirates. A compliment is a compliment, and I hadn't heard many of those (apart from my looks when I had to dress up, which didn't count). Upstairs the bell toll rang six times, announcing lights out. As the men packed up and occupied their bunks, or else got ready to head out, I curled up on my side, keeping my knife tight in my hand, and tried to relax enough to sleep. I could still feel the stink from the pen and the ship wobbled violently in the waves, but I didn't feel so afraid anymore. In fact, the energetic up and down motion stopped being bothersome and instead lulled me like a rocking chair. I surprised myself with a wide yawn and how heavy my eyelids felt, and, before the lanterns were blown out, I was already half asleep.

#black sails #black sails fanfic #billy bones #hal gates #james flint #captain flint #de groot #stories by crow #a girl an ocean fanfic

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heartsofminds · 2 years ago

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at least i let the light in - sneak peek

“Natasha was mistaken, and letting him tag along tonight was an incredibly bad idea.” or Bradley is on a downward spiral and Natasha can’t help but feel like a terrible friend.

A/N: soooooo if y’all know anything about me it’s the fact that i love angst and it’s what i write best! so enjoy this little snippet of therapy bradley and be prepared for the finished piece to drop sometime soon (...i’m thinking this weekend but who really knows?!) i am so so SO excited to let you all inside the little corner of my brain that’s been harboring this character study for months! happy reading and can’t wait to share more of this story with you guys soon!

This is really bad. This is super bad. This is fucking horrible.

In hindsight, Bradley had a little bit of a problem. In hindsight, letting him have as much as he did was a stupid idea. And in hindsight, it was downright imbecilic to let him get that wasted, play a game of pool with Jake (who loves to engage in smack talk), and not tell Jake about the breakup which resulted in Bradley leaping over the table and trying to beat the absolute shit out of him for making a joke about his girlfriend whom everyone else had yet to establish was now his ex-girlfriend.

Maverick, who watched the entire thing go down from the bar stools, practically begged Penny on his hands and knees not to throw them out and she obliged but only after tasking Mickey and Bob with taking Bradley to the bathroom and letting him calm down in there before he was ready to come back out.

And Nat knew that they all should probably head home and that Penny had every right to kick them out for the evening (and probably should), but she remained quiet while trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. Her careful eyes caught wind of Bradley’s incapacitated disposition as he stood slumped between Mickey and Bob as if he was an anchor ready to sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Their gentle arms held him steady while their faces wore desperation. The chunky wet spot of acid on Bob’s pant leg told Natasha everything she needed to know and from the way Bradley’s head hung, he was down for the count.

If she was being truthful, Bradley had been down for the count for a long time; much longer than anyone had ever really taken notice of, and the seed of anxiousness planted in her torso only bloomed with each assisted step he had taken toward her.

Natasha was mistaken, and letting him tag along tonight was an incredibly bad idea.

“Hi, Nat,” he slurs with reddened cheeks and a boyish grin on his face. Part of him looks like the boy she had gotten to love like a brother all those years ago in flight school; way before the stupid mustache and the muscles and the “slight” drinking problem he’d developed over the past nine weeks.

“Hey, dumbass,” she snides back. She’s so overwhelmed that irritation is the only feeling coursing through her veins.

“We had a bit of an. . .” Mickey looks toward Bob who looks as if he’s about two seconds away from passing out, “incident in the bathroom. He really needs to get home, Nix.”

She sighs deeply; the likeness of a sleepless night and a massive headache in the morning a premonition burning bright behind the heavy blinks of her eyelids. Her hands hold her hips and her shoulders slump. She and Bradley had ridden with Jake to Hard Deck tonight, and she’s sure that the debit card saved to her Uber account would not appreciate a twenty-five dollar fee for an eight-minute straight shot up the road.

But asking Jake for a ride home after he’d been sat icing his left eye with a Heineken bottle isn’t ideal either.

Her eyes dart to the watch on her left arm; an old Cartier with a white face and hands that were always ten minutes off the hour. If she remembers right, multiplying the drive time by two would get her an estimate of the walking time, and if they jay-walk on Jasper and Kinnecky, they could shave off four minutes and be at her front door in about-

“Twelve minutes?” she looks up at the triad of men and flashes a sympathetic smile to her WSO in the process, “Do you think he could make that long of a walk?”

Bradley tries to straighten his legs to stand on his own, but his knees buckle before he can even put his full weight forward. He giggles to himself; the sound childish and carefree. He attempts to lean his head on Bob’s shoulder but slams his forehead down too enthusiastically and knocks heads with the sheepish brunette instead.

“I’m gonna be so honest with you, I don’t think he can even tell you what color shirt he has on. It’s a miracle he’s even standing right now.”

Natasha groans and puts her face in her hands.

Fucking hell, Bradley.

“Don’t be mad at me. Please don’t be mad. Don’t be mad,” Bradley speaks up. His voice is whinier than usual and it’s one of the few phrases he’s bothered to utter tonight. His weight still remains supported by his two friends and for a moment, she feels guilty for even being frustrated with him at all.

The warm hazel of his eyes peer into hers and she can almost feel his sadness and solitude. Bradley always liked to operate like he was angry, but anyone who dared to get close enough to him knew that the anger was how he felt about himself; a mirage of explosives made up of pure loneliness and hurt.

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malarkgirlypop · 1 year ago

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MEDIC Part 16 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Hey guys, listen it's gonna get happy soon, hehe, maybe. Oh god I just keep writing sad stuff. I swear I am so happy and funny in real life! I just like to dump all of my feelings and sadness onto Emily, cause then it isn't my problem but hers and she's not real so... my problems aren't real. OK! ahahah. Also I am so so so so sorry for this is the slowest slow burn of all time, if you are here for romance I am totally sorry. I just want them to kiss, but then it isn't the right time, like idk if I make them get together while she is just going through it. Plus I feel so mean for Don he always helps her and he's just fine. IDK ahhh a lot going on up in my brain. Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @xxluckystrike (let me know if anyone else wants to be on the tag list 🥰, totally understand if you don't, this is the most depressing story and if you're having a good day I'm sure it will ruin it.)

Emily stands from her crouched position, striding over to the Nazi soldier. She stands over his body, tilting her head to analyse the dead man. But she doesn’t see a man nor a human. She sees filth. Pig scum who was a waste of space and air. She kicks his leg hard, but he stares up at the sky. Emily bends down picking up the gun slung across his body, she yanks it free. She checks the ammo, seeing the gun is still full, she scavenges over the body taking his magazine. She stands tall walking to where the assault happens, she strolls past her own men who yell at her to take cover. They look at each other confused, wondering why the medic is holding a German gun and walking straight into fire. She spots a group of German soldiers who take cover behind a hay bale. Her finger squeezes the trigger spraying the men in fire. She watches as they fall like dominos. She moves to where they were, firing more shots into the bodies to ensure they are dead. A round fires near her all missing, she scoffs, turning her attention to where the shots came from. Emily picks up her gun, shooting the men down one by one. She marches over to where they were stationed. One man that she had missed scrambles back from her, she notes he looks young, like the boy who’s blood covered her face and chest. She pins the boy to the floor, getting in his face.

“This is for them!” She snarls as she pulls the pistol from her pocket.

She gets up from the now lifeless body picking up her discarded semi-automatic weapon, continuing on her warpath. She walks back out into the opening as if taunting the men to shoot. She stands with dead eyes, her hair loose from the vigorous movement, blowing across her face. Her men stampede either side of her, taking the advantage she just created for them. She tosses her now empty gun to the side but still grips her pistol tightly. A firm grip lands on her shoulder. She doesn’t hesitate, whipping around, she aims the gun right at the man's head. Familiar eyes locking onto hers.

I hold the pistol right between Malarkey’s eyes, the tang of blood on my tongue and the stench of copper on my clothes. I exhale shakily, eyes frantically darting around.

“Em, you’re ok!” Malarkey grips the barrel moving it down from his face.

I step back, dropping the gun to the ground. I take in my hands tacky with blood, I go to wipe them on my front but the green uniform is stained red. Tears spring to my eyes, my heart pounds in my ears. What happened? I look again at my hands, they shake as I recollect the scene that just unfolded. I killed those men. I killed a young boy. I caused the life to leave from his eyes. I shake my head, frantically trying to wipe the blood from my hands, it won’t leave my skin. I drop to my knees tearing at my clothes trying to find my canteen. I pull it from my belt pouring the water over my hands, I desperately rub them together to wash away the stains. I grab at my button’s needing to get the smell that permeates in my nose off my body. I shake violently, unable to unfasten the buttons. “Help me!” I beg Malarkey who watches me with a sympathetic look on his face. He kneels in front of me, undoing my shirt, he helps me to pull it off. I touch my fingers to my face, finding more blood. I pour water from my canteen onto my hand rubbing the liquid into my face. I sob as I wash. Snot mixing in with the blood and tears. I tear at my skin not feeling clean enough. My wrists are grasped.

“Em, please stop, you’re hurting yourself!” Malakey begs me. I gasp for air in between sobs.

“What did I do?” I choke out. Malarkey and I kneel in the open field as he holds my wrists. The sound of gunshots slowly dissipating. He shakes his head, unable to find the words to tell me, not knowing how to put what he saw.

“I killed those men?” I ask, not believing my blurry memories.

“Em you weren’t yourself.” Malarkey tries to explain. I wasn’t there, felt like I was pushed back into my mind and I lost all control. Like falling asleep.

“I murdered those people, Don. This is their blood. I… killed them.” I hyperventilate, shaking my head. Trying to rid my mind of the images that flash behind my eyelids. I gag, retching the contents of my stomach onto the ground. Don watches, sitting helplessly in front of me. “I can’t, I can’t.” I muffle my screams behind my hand. I curl over myself. Pressing my head to the ground. I grip at the grass underneath, hoping that something will help my world stop spinning. I dig my nails into the ground tearing at the earth. I sob uncontrollably, choking on my own breaths. I have never felt this pain in my life. Like my soul is being torn from me. Like everything is being ripped from my body. Unbearable. I wail. Unconsolable.

“EM!” Don pleads with me. He moves to my side, raising me from my hunched position on the ground. He presses me into him, my chest against his. His hands in my hair, pressing my face into his neck. I sob still. His hands rub circles on my back, soothing my hair down. Don rocks us.

“Em this is not your fault. Shhh you’re alright.” He coos in my ear. I hiccup, the cries easing from my throat. I feel the tears still sliding down my face, pooling on his shirt. I grip at him, Don stops my world spinning. I hold on for dear life, worried he could slip away if I loosen my grip.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper, into the air. I send it out into the universe.

“I’m so sorry.” I see the men's faces, cold and still. Young men, lives ahead of them, I took it. Their chance to live. I took their opportunities. I took a mother’s son, a sibling, a friend. I can’t justify my actions, there was no rationale, no means. I took advantage of the hatred I held and turned it against them. They were following orders, just like our men, just like me. I was the one out of line, I did not follow my orders. I look up at Don, his eyes meet mine. No disappointment in his face, just sorrow. The other men come back, the assault is over. We need to keep moving to Noville. If we sit out in the open we make ourselves more vulnerable. I hear crunching footsteps approach us.

“Let’s get moving.” Lip says to Don. I move to get up but Don holds me close. I look up at him, I nod my head, showing him I’m fine. He lets me go, I move to stand. I shudder looking at my clothes. I lift my head trying to distract myself. I still feel the blood coating my skin. I just want to get somewhere I can change. We walk in silence, Don close to my side. We hang back from the rest of the men. I’m ashamed, I don’t want them to see me like this, covered in blood. That is a normal state for me but this feels different, this blood was not shed from a wound I was trying to fix. It was shed from maleficence, my malice, my hatred. Lip walks in front of us, casting his glance back every so often to make sure I’m still there. I can’t read his expression, but I know he is disappointed, all of the men will be.

We set up camp in one of the houses on the outskirts of town. By the time we reach it night has fallen. I wait outside by myself asking Don to go and get me a new uniform, I don’t want to be paraded through the house in my blood soaked clothes and skin.

He re-emerges out of the house holding clean clothes for me.

“There is a stream not too far away, would you want to go wash there?” Don asks, I nod. There were no showers or places for me to wash here. I would take a cold stream over anything else. I followed behind him, he still held my clothes for me. We used a small torch to light our way. We didn’t talk on our journey, but it was short, we arrived at the stream soon enough. Snow covered the ground but thankfully the stream hadn’t frozen over due to the running water through it. He placed my clothes on a rock.

“I will wait for you up on the bank.” He said and left. I stripped down to my underwear, untying my hair from its bun. I took off my shoes and socks last. My feet burning from the cold underneath my soles. I stepped tentatively into the stream, gasping at the coldness. I walked further in the water coming to my waist. It was freezing, my breathing quickened due to how cold it was. I took a deep breath and sank beneath the water. I didn’t stay under long, my urge to gasp from the cold forcing me to resurface again. My teeth chattered but I persisted. I scrubbed my skin from the dried blood. I washed my face, my hair, and my hands. Washing away all of the bloodshed I'd caused. I didn’t realise it but I was sobbing as I washed. I slipped under the water again, my body now more used to the cold. It was quiet under the surface, muffled and muted from the outside world. My heavy bones felt light floating in the water. But I couldn’t hold my breath forever, I needed to surface at some point and face the world again. That felt all too real. I broke the surface, gulping in air. My body was numb by this point from the cold. I needed to get changed before I got too cold. I stood moving back to the edge, walking out, I dried myself with the towel that Don had brought for me. He was always so thoughtful, and I had pushed him away. Guess I didn’t learn my lesson last time. Luckily I couldn’t push him away so easily, we were in the same company, I had to see him everyday. I got dressed quickly, making my way back up to where Don waited for me. A soft smile formed on his lips seeing me clean again. He opened his mouth to say something but I walked into his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me. He stayed quiet but wrapped his arms around my back squeezing me.

“I’m so sorry, Don.” I whispered into his neck, “I was being selfish. I pushed you away. But I don’t want to be apart from you.” Tears ran down my cheeks as we held each other still. “I want to remember them with you. I don’t want to forget them.” His hand rubbed up and down my back.

“We will remember them, Em. Those guys will be with us forever.” He said softly into my hair. He knew exactly how to comfort me. I pulled back to smile at him, his thumb brushing away the tears on my cheeks.

“As long as you have me, we won’t forget. And you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He grinned at me, making me laugh tearily.

“I don’t want to get rid of you.” I shook my head. “I’ve decided to keep you, for as long as I can.” He grinned at me nodding his head.

We made our way back to the house. The building was warm due to all the bodies packed into it. I was ready to crash, I had been running on fumes for days. The quiet chatter died when we walked back into the house, I was very aware of all of the eyes watching me. I walked closer to Don trying to hide behind him, but it was no use. I looked down at my feet as we walked, finally making it to where Don had saved a spot for us on the floor. What were they thinking? They had all seen it happen, so surely they all knew about it. Did they hate me now? See me as a monster? I bit my lip nervously, thoughts swirling in my head. Don’s warm hand landed on top of mine, he gave me a reassuring smile. I nodded not needing to speak, we both knew what we were saying without words.

“Do you mind?” Malarkey said loudly turning to the group of men, they all looked away from us, their chatter resuming. I laid down, resting my head on my bag, he pulled the blanket over the both of us, resting beside me.

“Tomorrow will be easier.” He squeezed my hand before rolling over away from me. I fell asleep not long after. Tomorrow will be easier.

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Chapter 17

#yikes what a chapter #she maybe commit some wr crimes but we will let it slide #maybe she will be the new Speirs of Easy Company #What do we think everyone else is thinking #are they mad at her?#proud?#scared?#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #donald malarkey #hbo war #Emarkey #their ship name #thanks to Bucky ❤️

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afterdarkprincess · 1 year ago

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all you ever did was wreck me (yeah you wreck me)

Relationship: Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins Rating: Explicit Summary: Newly returned Dean Ambrose has a press event at the WWE Performance Center and World Heavyweight Champion Seth Rollins is among those there to greet him. They find one another in a practice room long after everyone else has gone home and things escalate quickly.

AO3 Link

Fun little idea I've had in my head since CM Punk came back, just wouldn't leave me alone. Plus I had to do some Ambrollins eventually for my lil sis :)

tags for @elementaldoughnut12 @feelschicken @harmshake @jeysbvck @southerngirl41 and @imabillyami (if anyone else would like to be tagged in my fics please let me know! 💖)

Warnings for: Frottage, Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Mirrors, Pet Names/Dirty Talk

Seth never thought he’d see the day.

He had seen the email, read it twice to be sure, but even on the way to Orlando he didn’t quite believe it. He wouldn’t believe it until he saw him in the Performance Center with his own eyes.

There’d been buzz of course, all over the internet as soon as CM Punk returned to WWE and “Hell Froze Over” as they all claimed, it was not long before rumors began to circulate that Punk would not be the only one to make the jump between companies.

Seth would like to have believed that maybe Jon would have reached out to him first, that maybe the old wounds would have healed by now and they could be friends again. But he had to find out via email like the rest of the roster. So much for bygones being bygones.

He spends the morning hanging around the performance center, himself and a few other select members of the roster were asked to come and do some spots on NXT as part of the announcement. Roman is noticeably absent, but then again it would be more shocking for the man to actually show up to work these days.

Bianca is there, her hand delicately perched on Montez’s arm as usual, all smiles as she talks to the members of the women’s division that crowd around her. Ford is in the midst of a discussion with Carmelo and Trick, with a few others hanging around.

A few of them had approached Seth earlier, and he’d indulged them enough not to get a scolding but his efforts to appear unapproachable seem to be working.

Seth checks his watch, of course the bastard is late. Couldn’t arrive on time if his life depended on it, he never could. How many nights had Seth spent in the same position, waiting on him, always waiting.

He’s about to give up, make the rounds and give his excuses so he could head back to the hotel and take a nice long shower and postpone this meeting for as long as he possibly could, when the doors swing open.

Dean always did know how to make an entrance. Jon he corrects himself mentally. It’s Jon now. Dean Ambrose is nothing but a ghost from his past.

Hunter follows behind him through the door, and isn’t it Seth’s lucky day? Of course he’s here, eating up the press attention and showing off his new acquisition. He puts his thick fingers on Moxley’s shoulder and it makes bile rise in Seth’s throat.

Thankfully, Mox has about as much tolerance for that as Seth does, and the hand is quickly shrugged off with a thinly veiled look of disgust thrown at the older man.

He must not notice Seth, where he’s standing apart from everyone else, or if he does he doesn’t dignify him with so much a glance in his direction. He talks with some of the younger ones, who look at him with stars in their eyes, and exchanges compliments with Montez and Bianca, thanking them gruffly for being in his welcome party.

Seth idly wonders if even now he could still escape, disappear into the background before anyone notices, delay this meeting that he’s desired and dreaded in equal measure. But of course it couldn’t be that easy.

Melo and Trick ask him for a photo, and they set the shot up directly in Seth’s view. There’s no way he won’t-

Blue eyes meet his, clear and cold like a lake in winter. He’s drowned in their depths before, but god if Seth doesn’t miss that sweet surrender. Dean, Jon, Mox, Dean- it’s Dean his mouth turns up in a cheeky grin for the photo, but Seth knows better, as the man doesn’t even bother to look at the camera snapping the shot, keeping his eyes locked on him.

They thank Mox for the photo, and he finally looks away from Seth, granting him a reprieve. Seth stares down at the floor and tries to get his traitorous heartbeat under control. His pulse is loud in his ears and he’s nervous, like his music is about to hit right before a big match and he has no idea how it’s gonna go.

Seth hears the thud of heavy boots on the concrete, stomping around like always and the smell of cigarette smoke arrives first.

He’s here. He’s really standing here, chewing on a piece of gum and looking at Seth, a wary look in his eye but his expression carefully neutral.

“Hey,” Moxley nods his head, giving Seth a once over.

“Hey yourself,” Seth shoots back, very aware of the people surrounding them, watching their interaction with bated breath. There are so many things he wants to say. His fingers itch with their desire to reach out and touch him, make sure he’s real and solid- that he won’t disappear again.

But as he’s been told so many times over the years, Seth is a coward.

“It’s uh- good to see you.” It sounds lame even to his own ears. The understatement of the century.

Mox’s eyebrows raise, jaw in constant motion, chewing. “Yeah, you too.”

Hunter looks between the two of them, not even bothering to hide the distaste in his expression. “Lets get a photo of these two as well, ey?”

The press photographer sets up as Moxley clomps to his side, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly as he laughs.

Surely he’s joking, hamming it up as usual but it makes Seth feel small, like he’s back in FCW with something to prove and not the reigning World Heavyweight Champion. Seth swallows thickly, and puts on a smile.

He expects an arm to be thrown over his shoulder, if Moxley would be willing to touch him at all. What he does not expect his a hand finding its way to his waist, just lightly grazing at first before squeezing playfully.

It’s a clear sign, he knows all the ins and outs of the language that is Dean Ambrose. It’s me, I’m here. Relax, Rollins.

Seth feels his shoulders drop and relax, and his hand finds the small of Moxley’s back, and he smiles for real.

The camera flashes, preserving the moment forever, but no one but them will ever know what it really means. Seth looks at him as he takes a step back, creating some respectable space between their bodies. “Thanks, Mox. It’s good to have you back.”

His brow furrows and he runs a hand through that rugged beard of his, but he’s interrupted when he opens his mouth.

“It’s Ambrose again, actually.” Hunters voice is smug, like it’s a personal victory.

Seth feels the urge to lash out at his boss, which is never a good look, despite the fact that his heart is screaming in the rightness of it all. He’d take the man with any name, their bond is deeper than that, but it’s the name he still cries out at night as the nightmares replay him leaving.

He whips his head to look at Dean again, who nods. “Was this your idea or theirs?”

Hunter rolls his eyes and walks away.

“Little a both, honestly,” Dean says, shrugging. “Trademark stuff, and it felt right.”

Seth nods, his eyes wandering to where Dean’s tongue darts out to lick at his chapped lips. All sort of absurd ideas float through Seth’s mind, spilling his guts right here and confessing every wild emotion that the other man has stirred in his heart over the last 10 years, replacing the tongue on Dean’s lip with his own.

He goes to open his mouth, though he has no clue what’s about to come out, but he doesn’t get a word out.

It’s Ilya this time, wanting to talk to Dean, which makes sense. There’s a line forming behind him and Seth’s very aware that this isn’t the time or place.

“I gotta run, but we’ll catch up later, yeah?”

There’s a look in Dean’s eyes that he can’t quite place, but he nods all the same, and turns to give the current NXT champ his attention.

Seth feels a twinge in his chest, but backs away. Cowardly. Again.

The afternoon gets away from Seth, in a blur of interviews and a training class on promos. He’d seen glimpses of Dean here and there as they both were led around the Performance center by different sets of staff, waving at each other each time with a resigned misery in their eyes.

His last obligation of the day is sitting down for a long form interview thats going on one of the podcasts, and he ends up talking with Corey Graves for much longer than he’d intended. By the time they wrap up in the studio it’s going on 8pm, and all of the young talent are long gone for the day. The building is quiet, and all but the essential lights are off.

Seth gets himself turned around somehow, trying to navigate the labyrinth of hallways that go from the studios through the offices to the exit. He finds himself near the practice rings, and he hears the sound of a body against the ropes, the heavy thud of footfalls. He thinks he’ll just poke his head in, maybe get some directions to the nearest exit and he’ll be on his way.

Of course it couldn’t be that easy.

Seth swings the door open, revealing a row of punching bags and a solitary ring set up before a wall of mirrors, making the room look twice as big as it is. He catches Dean’s face in the mirror, dripping sweat and beautiful, and feels himself freeze.

Maybe Dean didn’t see him. Maybe he can back out of the room now and find his way out on his own, but he can’t seem to make his feet move and-

“Ey!” Dean’s voice rings out in the quiet of the room. “Was lookin’ for someone to punch.” He chuckles lowly, and Seth never stood a chance of walking away from him.

Seth’s in a pair of loose fitting shorts and a tee shirt, so he can’t even argue that he’s not dressed for this. He cautiously makes his way into the ring, watching as Dean wraps his knuckles in tape.

It’s surreal to watch himself and Dean in the mirror, like a tv show so compelling he can’t pull his eyes away. He’s distracted, Dean’s voice floating in and out of his ear before pulling him out of his thoughts.

“-right?” The cold blue eyes stare at him expectantly, but Seth’s got no clue.

“Sorry, man. Lost in the mirror I guess. Run it back?”

Dean laughs again, “Same old Seth, huh. Just sayin’ this is a far cry from the FCW set up, s’all.”

The understatement of the century. Seth nods, “Yeah, uh definitely beats that old warehouse.”

“Dunno,” He grumbles out. “Builds character in a place like that. Don’t think I’d wanna come up in a place like this.” He gestures around. “Too nice, too clean.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Seth huffs, tugging his t shirt up and over his head, catching just a glimpse of something in Dean’s eyes that he refuses to think about. “So we doin’ this?”

Dean hits him with a look that Seth’s seen a million times before, across rings, across shitty motel rooms and diner booths, nods, and brings his hands up to a grappling stance. “Ready when you are, baby.”

The comment catches Seth off guard, but not enough to give Dean the upper hand as they crash together, limbs locked in a tight embrace. Seth feels each point where their skin meets like a hot stove, burning an impression into him, forever leaving a mark.

It’s like not a day has passed since their last match. They don’t talk much, never have really needed to; not with each other, not since the beginning. They exchange blows as easy as breathing, the rhythm of their bouts matching the pounding of their twin heart beats.

Seth takes advantage of a break and climbs up the ropes, diving headlong into Dean who catches him effortlessly with a laugh.

“Lightweight,” Seth can feel the timber of his voice, the rumble of his chest against Seth’s skin. Real, whole, and here with Seth where he belongs.

Dean flips him into position for a vertical suplex, and his senses are filled with the salty scent of Dean’s skin as his cheek’s pressed against the scar-marked chest. Seth briefly brushes his lips against the skin, flicking out his tongue to taste before he’s brought down hard on his back.

The wind is knocked out of him, though he’s not sure if it’s from the impact or the intoxicating effect that Dean still has on him.

Dean goes for the cover, hoisting up Seth’s leg and draping his weight across his torso with a smug look on his face.

Seth jerks his shoulder up and flips them over, his chest heaving as he stares down at Dean, beautiful Dean. His face is red with exertion and it makes his eyes stand out even more. He licks his chapped lips, just a flash of pink tongue and it sends a hot rush of arousal down Seth’s spine.

Unfortunately, in reversing the pin Seth’s hips landed right on top of Dean’s, and the loose shorts he’s wearing definitely do not conceal the chub of his dick as it swells with desire. Dean’s hips buck in an attempt to throw him off, but it just delivers delicious friction to the place Seth needs and doesn’t want it most.

He’s embarrassed at the pathetic little whine he emits, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth just a moment too late to hide it.

Dean’s eyes widen knowingly before they travel down down to the obvious tent in Seth’s shorts.

Seth can feel his face heat up, and he moves to get off of Dean, ready to apologize and leave and put this behind him but as usual Dean is way ahead of him.

He’s flipped again before he can process what’s happening, but instead of Dean going to cover him for a pin, he situates himself between Seth’s splayed legs with ease.

Dean stares down at him, and Seth’s legs instinctively wrap around his back to keep him there. It’s immediately obvious that he’s not alone in this situation, the hard warmth of an erection against his own.

“P-please…” Seth stutters out, his dick now painfully hard. “Dean- ahh!”

He’s cut off by Dean’s hips grinding down hard into his own, rough and powerful as the man above him groans. His big hands are at either side of Seth’s head, holding himself up and giving Seth a perfect view of his gorgeous chest, covered by scars and a carpet of thick hair.

Seth finds himself reaching up with one hand, slowly as if reaching out to a feral cat who might turn tail at any moment. When Dean doesn’t move, rocking his hips but not running away, Seth cards his fingers up through the chest hair until he finds a nipple with his fingertips. He circles the nub gently in rapt fascination until it’s hard and standing proud and he’s pulled out of his trance by a growl that escapes Dean’s mouth.

“Not playin’ fair, baby.” A hand bats Seth’s arm away and suddenly Dean’s mouth is on Seth’s nipples, licking and sucking and biting just hard enough for it to sting and Seth can’t keep his hips still. He rubs himself against Dean like he’s a teenager again, horny and desperate in a locker room.

His head lolls to the side in pleasure, and he catches sight of their reflection in the wall of mirrors. His legs clenched around Dean’s heaving back as he licks all over Seth’s chest, the way their bodies twist and meld into each other.

He can’t bring himself to look away, but Dean’s hand grasps his beard and tugs his chin so he has no choice but to look at him. “Keep those eyes right here.”

There’s a hard edge to Dean’s voice, and Seth feels himself leaking precum in his shorts. It should be embarrassing but he can’t currently find it himself to care.

Dean pushes himself up onto his knees and Seth whimpers at the loss of contact, though he can’t complain for long. Dean’s shoving his own pants and briefs down to expose the hard length of his cock, giving it a few strokes. Seth’s mouth waters at the sight, but then Dean’s going for Seth’s shorts, pulling the waist band down to free him as well.

“Of course you aren’t wearing underwear, you slut,” Dean says fondly, spitting into his hand before stroking Seth’s dick, dragging his thumb around the thick head and driving Seth wild.

Seth drops his head back to the mat, but Dean’s not far behind coming back to hover over him, their cocks sliding together. Dean brings his mouth to Seth’s neck, sucking at the sensitive skin as their hips rut together. Seth rests his hands on the back of Dean’s neck, holding on for dear life as the hot coil in his stomach gets even tighter.

He’s rapidly approaching his climax, and judging by Dean’s breathing he’s not alone in that. When Dean finally seems satisfied with his work on Seth’s neck, he presses a sloppy kiss against the angry red skin.

“Mine,” Dean growls, and if Seth wasn’t already near the edge, he certainly is now.

“Yours, ah- fuck!”

His breathing rapidly turns to whimpers, and he’s so so close, the pressure of Dean’s cock grinding and sliding against his own and his ragged breath hot in Seth’s ear.

Dean shoves his hand down between them and grabs both their dicks roughly, stroking them both. “C’mon pretty thing, let go for me.”

It’s all the motivation Seth needs, his vision whiting out as he shoots cum all over Dean’s hand and his own stomach. Dean’s not far behind, thrusting into his fist a few more times before adding to the mess between them.

Seth breathes heavily as he comes back to earth, catching sight of himself in the mirror again, locking with the blue eyes staring back at him. He breathes out a laugh, grinning.

“Look at us, huh?” Dean says, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead and onto Seth’s cheek. “You look good under me.”

He blows Seth a kiss in the mirror and that’s when it hits him. In all that, Seth never even kissed Dean. After all this time.

Seth feels tears well in his eyes as he cradles Dean’s face in his hands, running his thumb along the edge of his beard. He gently pulls him in, lifting his head so their foreheads rest together.

“Missed you so much,” Seth whispers. “Nothin’ felt right without you here.”

Their lips meet, and it’s everything Seth’s been craving, sweet and rough and perfect and Dean finally home at last.

Dean bites at his lip as they part, and if Seth were any younger it would get him going again, but he’s too happy, too sated with just holding on to Dean to want anything else right now.

He can feel their cum drying on his skin, and they need to head out of the building sooner rather than later. They’ll need to talk about all of this at some point, though neither of them have ever been good at actually talking about their feelings. But they speak a language all their own, they always have, and it’s more than enough for Seth.

----

Thank you so much for reading!! 💕

#ambrollins #dean ambrose #jon moxley #seth rollins #wwe fanfiction #my writing

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critter-genfic-events · 8 months ago

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This week, we have seven stories that feature Grog Strongjaw! From sickeningly sweet fluff to some good old barbarian whump, we’ve got quite the range today - check them out beneath the cut, and of course, comment and kudos if you like them!

Paint by Numbers by baehj2915 (10052,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot, Scanlan Shorthalt & Grog Strongjaw, Scanlan Shorthalt/Pike Trickfoot

Grog has been waiting for this for so many numbers.

Reccer says: Grog's voice is SPOT-ON. All three main characters (the big and his smalls) shine, but Grog is especially great, simple and straightforward and not stupid by a long shot. If you've ever wondered about how the Trickfoot-Shorthalt-Strongjaw household handled its first baby, this is the fic for you. 100% canon in my heart.

no way of knowing by judypoovey (1778,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot, Grog Strongjaw & Zanror, Worra/Zanror

When Pike is summoned to help deliver the Thunderlord's child, Grog solves the secret of Fatherhood.

Reccer says: Cute and touching and Pike and Grog's voices are perfect!

Hard Knocks by TiamatZX (700,Teen) Warnings: Major character injury Pairings:

Grog had a good idea. It just left him with too many boo-boos for Pike to heal.

Reccer says: Some in-canon Grog whump

Sea, Sand and Sun (And Survivors) by Belphegor (4453,General) Warnings: Canonical character death Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot, Scanlan Shorthalt & Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot, Scanlan Shorthalt & Grog Strongjaw, Scanlan Shorthalt/Pike Trickfoot

Turns out losing someone for good fucking sucks. Grog has no intention of making a habit of it. Especially not now, on a sunny day at the beach, after surviving everything else.

Reccer says: A heartfelt Grog point of view that starts off sweet and gets into a little hurt

will you know it when you see it by friendly_ficus (1070,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot & Wilhand Trickfoot

Pop Pop tells her that Grog’s had a hard life and a bad scare, that Pike’s got to do her best to be brave for both of them. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it, but it... it makes him feel something strange, that the old fella’s looking out for him. It’s not, uh, not a bad feeling.

Reccer says: I liked it

ABCs with Grog Strongjaw by Settiai (153,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

A short poem and video of Grog's ABCs

Reccer says: It's cute and fun!

Wants and Needs by icarus_chained (1574,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Grog might not have the usual approach to love and sex, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's missing anything. He doesn't think so, anyway.

Reccer says: I feel like acknowledgement of characters who are aromantic but not asexual are few and far between in fandom, so this character study is appreciated

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we're focusing on Cross Campaign fics! So mix and match those adventuring parties and have some fun!

Then the weeks after that, it'll be Skill/Class Swap fics, Mourning and Grief, and then Fjord focused.

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

Oh! Also! Critter Gen Week is happening! Prompts have been announced, you should check them out.

And hey, if you're looking for some more good gen content, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

#critter genfic rec lists #critical role #gen fic #cr fan fic #grog strongjaw #vox machina #pike trickfoot

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streets-in-paradise · 1 year ago

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Waiting - Andy Barclay x Reader

Requested by Anon

" hey can you make a story about Andy Barclay getting jealous at someone because they’re flirting there S/O. Btw it can be fluff or whatever I am having you have that choice thank I love your content ❤️❤️❤️❤️"

Sure, anon! And thank you for your kindness <3

Warnings: No proofreading, Insecure Andy being reassured by his s/o in fluffy and flirty ways.

Summary: A hopeless time of watching him unsuccessfully date other persons in front of you preceded the beggining of your relationship with Andy and now you can't believe he is the one feeling jealous.

Tags: @losersclubisms

Too long you had watched in the shadow of his failures, waiting untill he would stop ignoring the fullness of the woods for a single tree. As a server in the restaurant were most of his disastrous dates took place you had a privileged spot to observe the regular downfalls, convinced that you have never meet anyone with such terrible luck for romance. What started as an empathy driven approach just trying to help him out quickly turned into something else and you found yourself trully Interested on him.

Andy was a sweet guy who just have been lonely for too long. Everytime one of his dates would leave him heartbroken you were there to pick up the pieces hoping he would catch your signs. Getting to a point where you could start dating required a lot of patience from you, virtue that you lost after the redhead fiasco leading to directly asking him out by yourself.

It took him a while to understand you actually wanted to be with him, since at first he was convinced you did it out of pity. His way of loving made you feel as if your relationship was the best thing happening in his life and he was constantly afraid of loosing you.

He was not the kind of man who would start a fight over jealousy, but you could tell whenever he would be swallowing those feelings pretending to be just fine.

The first time it happened you realized he was so not ready to deal with other people flirting with you. A silly confussion with a stranger at a bar ruined the whole moment for him. The actual episode wasn't even a big deal, since you politely declined and sneaked your hands on top of the back pocket of the pants of your silently angry boyfriend to send a passive agressive message making the stranger dissapear.

Andy felt your hands softly squeezing his butt and that at least managed to distract him a bit.

" Did you notice how shocked he was? That dude couldn't believe i'm with you. " He openly commented. " … Sometimes even I can't believe i'm with you. "

" After all I have been waiting for you? " You sweetly complained. " How many cute people did i see you with before you stopped drowning in self pity and noticed I wanted your attention all along? "

He didn't consider that before, probably because those dates had such terrible outcomes he couldn't imagine you caring for that.

" Did I make you jealous?" He asked while a soft shade of blush in his face made him look down for a brief instant. " Me?? How?"

" I saw you put your heart and soul into each one of those, trying so hard for things to work because you liked those persons. That amount of dedication had completely won me over even before we started dating. " You frankly admitted. " They may have been desperate to run away, but I was there watching and wanting so badly to be them. You didn't have an easy life, i could tell that, but you are a wonderfull man so sweet, thoughtfull and handsome. A bit weird, maybe, but still adorable. You wanted love and I was desperate for a shot to love you, but there was always someone else rejecting you that you cared more about. "

" I was a fool, i know. " He apologized, still in disbelief. " Let's say I was misguided by the advice of an old friend. "

" You were driving me insane and I was so jealous of your dates. I began to ask myself what else could I do to make you notice me. I almost changed my hair colour but a friend told me that going redhead would have been too much. "

The confession made him chuckle.

" I love you exactly as you are … and I'm feeling quite jealous."

Verbally expressing his feelings was hard for him, but he did it in the spirit of his surprise.

" You have no damn reason for it, because i'm going nowhere. " You reassured him, pulling him closer. " I'm here with you and there is no other one I could want to be with ríght now. "

He was a happy, awkward mess evidently affected by your words in all kinds of ways.

For so, you decided to carry on taking things a bit further.

" Once we get back to my place you are all mine." You whispered close to his ear. " I'm going to show you exactly how much I love you and how wild you drive me. "

The insidious thoughts temporally faded under such delightfull promise.

#chucky 2021 #cult of chucky #andy barclay #andy barclay x reader #alex vincent #alex vincent x reader

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stardomtrash · 1 year ago

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So I made the mistake of seeing a subbed promo from Utami in the 5 Star before I knew anything else about the show. Those that know me have heard this rant before, but I can’t let it go. This show will be the death of me. I was DYING of laughter when the Wish.com Glamazon came out.

Look at this Caesar’s Palace Walmart Halloween aisle looking motherfucker.

Her headdress fell off when she jumped Tam. Because of course it did look at that fucking thing.

SHE FOLLOWED HER

DID SHE STALK YOU

WAS SHE YOUR CARRY ON

Can you imagine that thing in the line behind her in immigration.

Why her, Utami? What did you bond over? I assume she doesn’t know Japanese, so my working theory is that she saw Utami fight and thought "yup, I'll cross the world for that one"

Why does she get a shot at the Red Belt? I think SAKI from Colours said something when she got a White Belt shot... I’m paraphrasing cos it was a while ago, but something like “So I can just walk in and ask for a title shot and get it? Is this how the biggest company does things?” and it’s so true. It’s SO BAD when people just ask for a shot without earning it. Megan just turned up. If that’s the criteria for a title match, Rossy give me one. I went to more shows than Megan has.

Fucking Megan... no offense to anyone called Megan, but come on. Come on

Bless Utami for trying to put her over, but it’s not working. And normally I hate the laughing crowd, but I was right there with ‘em on this one.

And now we get to the more serious stuff.

So, for anyone that hasn’t caught up on the 5 Star yet, it’s been long enough I feel comfortable revealing... I don’t even class injuries spoilers. That’s just not what they are. Calling them spoilers feels dirty. But it was A Thing That Happened in the most recent show

So, Kamitani got injured in her match with Tam. It was the main event and the match had to be called off. God bless her, I hope she heals up completely and comes back whenever she’s ready.

But this segment with bargain bin Greek goddess came RIGHT after the match was called off. Tam, who was obviously distraught at what had JUST happened, had to go along with the planned dumb spot and deal with This Thing.

Utami, who just watched her tag partner get stretchered out, couldn’t be there for her cos she had to wait for her cue to finish the show and do this dumb spot as planned. And I know there’s the whole ‘the show must go on’ thing, and I know she did do a callout on Mayu, but both Megan’s debut and the callout could have waited. It’s about taste. They should have called an audible and at least cut Megan’s debut out. It’s just not appropriate.

Anyway look, I heard that people are excited that Stardom booked Megan, apparently she’s ‘A Get’, but I’m just not interested. I’m sure she’s a lovely person and a great wrestler, I wish her all the best, but I’m not gonna watch her. Her debut was no fault of her own... okay well the bad costume was but nevertheless... the timing wasn’t on her, no-one can blame her for that.

I hope she has a good match with Tam and then goes onto a different promotion as quickly as she came

#megasus #trash's trash rambles

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dumbthunder · 2 years ago

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15 questions 15 mutuals

I was tagged by the lovely @sergeantnarwhalwrites. I didn't realize that it supposed to be one of your OCs answering this, I guess my eyes skipped a line when reading yours. Tazer will be answering these.

I'm tagging @marinesocks @nanashi23 @justnerdy15 @starstruck-strife @manathen @aohendo @fearofahumanplanet @kyofsonder @the-finch-address @athenstheidiot some of you mightve been on @sergeantnarwhalwrites tags, so sorry if I doubled you up

1. Are you named after anyone?

Go ahead and guess where I got the name Tazer from.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I saw Everything Everywhere a few weeks ago and I bawled in the movie theater. Oh wait, I think it was when I saw that dead baby bird in the park. Errrr.... maybe it was when i thought my brother was hurt. Can we come back to this?

3. Do you have kids?

I have a kid brother. I mean, he's an adult now, but he'll always be a kid to me <3

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Oh all the time. I have two friends that don't get it and its hilarious.

5. Whats the first thing you notice about people?

You can tell a lot about someone by looking at their eyes. Where they look. How they look at things or you. If they have some fire in their eyes.

6. Whats your eye color?

Plain ol' brown. Does red count if they're blood shot?

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I love happy endings. I hope that I can get one someday. Not soon, maybe once I'm old and done with the whole hero thing I can settle down.

8. Any special talents?

Besides stretching my arms and bursts of electricity? Uhhh....

9. Where were you born?

San Delphine born and raised. Go Astros! (I'm not really into baseball, my friend used to play for them)

10. What are your hobbies?

Some would say my hero work is my hobby, or the gym, but recently I've taken up knitting for those long hours at a stake out.

11. Do you have any pets?

I wish. I'm too busy to take care of anything else. I've got a few plants at home, but I don't count them as pets.

12. What spots did you play/have you played?

If you don't count power lifting as a sport, we can't be friends. I haven't gone to a competition since I got my power tho. Since I'm stronger than most everyone now its not fair.

13. How tall are you?

Six foot even, but I say five ten when anyone asks. This can be our little secret ;)

14. Favorite subject in school?

Gym, PE, whatever you called it. I was too busy taking care of my brother to care about school.

15. Dream job?

I'm living the dream. A bona-fide superhero. Unless I'm on the news, then I'm a "dangerous vigilante". Some people don't appreciate the work I'm doing. Smh my head.

#writing #oc #san delphine #tazer

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 1 year ago

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Jumping on the open tag cause this sounds fun.

Unfortunately I have no idea how to post short excerpts apparently (/half joking) cause all of these are long RIP

Tagging @gracehosborn @thepeculiarbird @awritingcaitlin @theeccentricraven @reneesbooks @jezifster @jessicagailwrites @unrepentantcheeseaddict @ohnomybreadsticks and anyone else who wants to jump on!

Keep reading for:

You wanna know how the first good description of TSP's titular portal goes?

Uh foreshadowing ehehehehehehehe

Comparing emotional intelligence

Lexi literally planning her burnout arc for me

Jack's "average poem" in its entirety

The portal's first appearance (it's only vaguely described here)

Tierney blows something up again

RED - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

I tried to sit on the grass to contemplate everything when I hit something hard. I cried out in pain and shot up, rubbing the now-sore spot—feeling awkward even though no one was around. I turned to see what I hit and jumped when I saw millions of colors shoot up from the ground. I looked around and watched the endless field disappear from view. I must’ve hit my head on the concrete. Yes, that made sense. A sudden panic of long-term injury caused me to reach up to touch my head. I didn’t feel any sign of injury, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe I was hallucinating the lack of injury. My breath quickened as the colors around me grew bigger and more vibrant. I looked down at the ground and watched as the colors erased the grass. “Oh, shit!” The ground disappeared and I fell through a tunnel of millions of colors I never knew existed. Is this what it’s like to have more photoreceptors? Is this how shrimp see? I would’ve been in awe if I wasn't falling to my death. The air whipped around me—my braids disconnected where I’d tied them in the back, causing my looser hair to partially obstruct my vision. A bright light forced my eyes shut, the inside of my eyelids red. I felt warm and safe around it, but it was too bright for my taste. Without warning, I hit the ground on my feet, stumbled, and fell on grass again.

ORANGE - from The Secret Portal Part One (Kelsey POV)

Maddie bit into her toast before saying, “So are we joining the Aequales or not?” “Woah, Maddie,” Mrs. Morgan said, “you’re a little too young for that.” “Why?” Maddie swallowed her toast with some orange juice. “We’re just learning how to control our powers and do martial arts. It sounds fun.” “I’d just like to control my powers,” I admitted. I didn’t go further to mention that I was concerned about what my powers could do to my family. If they were that dangerous and unpredictable in Alium, I’d rather be in a place that knew how to run tests to figure them out so I didn’t hurt anyone. Mrs. Morgan sighed. “If your sister wants to, we’ll talk about it when she gets home.” She cut into the toast with her knife and fork. “Out of curiosity, who exactly is running this Aequales branch?” “Uh, Jedi Moon and Carmen Asghar, I think,” Maddie answered. Mrs. Morgan dropped her fork in a loud clatter that caused Maddie and me to jump. “Carmen Asghar?” she repeated. Maddie nodded, looking confused. “And Jedi Moon.” Mrs. Morgan picked up her fork. “I knew Jedi was involved. It was his sister who contacted me about your little adventure in the first place. Well, you are in good hands. I trust them both.” She shoved the food in her mouth.

YELLOW - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Gwen POV)

“I’ll go after her,” I said. “No one else seems to be doing it.” “Didn’t I say she needs to be alone?” Ash asked. “You need to be alone when you’re upset,” I pointed out. “I do, too. But that’s not Lexi. Lexi needs someone.” “Gwen’s more emotional than us,” Maddie pointed out. “She won’t say the wrong thing.” “I’m literally an empath!” Ash protested. “No offense, Ash,” said Noelle, “but Gwen is more in-tune with her emotions than any of us.” She gestured at herself, Maddie, and Ash. “Out of those who’ve known her, and Rose, the longest.” I felt awkward just standing there while they compared emotional intelligence. “Um, I’m gonna go.” I left the room and turned down the hall to the elevator. I pressed the button to go to the dormitories, safely betting to check Lexi’s quarters first. Once on the Sublevel, I easily picked out Lexi’s door, as she’d begun decorating it back in October, and had been adding to it ever since. Right now, she’d put up pictures of herself hanging out with some friends. Ash and Lexi in third grade on a field trip to the art museum. The two of them plus Maddie and Kelsey hanging out at the Morgans’ house. Lexi and Jackson at an orchestra concert. Lexi hanging out with Trixie at Main Event. Lexi, Ash, Noelle, Rose, and me all on last year’s trip to Six Flags. Lexi on her bike as a kid. Each picture had an offset backing of pink, teal, or yellow cardstock, cut with those fancy scissors that leave patterns. I knocked lightly with my knuckle. “Lexi?” After no response, I said, “It’s Gwen.” The door then slid open from Lexi’s unheard permission.

GREEN - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Lexi POV)

“After you and Gwen finish your concert, I’ll call Ewan to help teleport all of us to Southlake immediately. That would prevent me from teleporting other people, which requires contact. On Friday I will officially announce my candidacy for orchestra president with my speech after the concert. Which means I need to start writing my speech. Ugh. I should’ve started on that waayy sooner.” “It’s been an insane couple of weeks,” said Ash, lifting her head up. “Fair enough. But still, I have no idea what I’m going to say.” “You not knowing what to say?” “Ironic, I know, but that’s, like, in the moment things.” “You’re great at planning things and you’re great at words.” “True. I’ll figure something out.” I returned to the planner, flipping to January. “Okay, so I wrote down in pencil when the orchestra club meetings were so I know what I’m getting at if I end up winning. I can work around that schedule in the meantime. However, they’re afterschool on Thursdays, so I won’t get too much conflict there. January 11 is when Trixie and the others are going to Main Event.” “The other cheerleaders?” Ash asked. “Yeah. Basically an honorary cheerleader at this point. Um,” I tapped my green pen on the planner, “okay, Jackson wants to start hanging out outside of school. I’ve told him that I usually am busy over the weekends, but he’s fine hanging out, like, on Tuesdays for Sonic after school.” I began filling him in each Tuesday afternoon. “You’re gonna have Sonic with Jackson every single Tuesday?” “What’s wrong with that?” I asked as I flipped to February to continue filling Jackson in. “Nothing,” said Ash. She sighed, then grabbed her orange juice to take a swig.

BLUE - from School of the Legends Year One

“Once upon a time, the sky was blue. The grass was green, and the cows went ‘moo’.” The class sniggered. Mrs. McGuire gave Jack a harsh look. Jack swallowed and then continued. “The bovines lived on McDonald’s farm,” Jack continued, his knees pressed against each other. “In which they were scarcely harmed. They love their cows--so they couldn’t have that! Besides, one of them is allergic to fat.” The class laughed louder this time, and Mrs. McGuire pushed her glasses up her nose, scribbling something down on her paper. Jack spread his feet apart shoulder-width, the more confident stance causing him to feel better. “Sometimes the cows would need some water. It would be fetched by McDonald’s son and daughter.” Jack allowed himself to smile as he continued. “They weren’t born his, but that doesn’t matter. Which one has fat intolerance? Well, it’s not the latter.” Jack spread out his arms and gestured to his scrawny body. The class laughed again. Mrs. McGuire pursed her lips and wrote something down. Jack didn’t care, and let his confidence flow. “So these siblings, Jack and Jill, went up to the well atop the hill. This is my poem, I gave it my all. Have a good summer, lads! I will see you next fall!”

INDIGO - from The Secret Portal Part One

It’s hard to believe it’s all through there,” Kwasiyaa breathed as they neared. Dylan squatted down beside the portal, hovering his hand over the smooth, stone-like surface. He agreed with Kwasiyaa: behind something barely bigger than his opened palm was an entire world. Kwasiyaa looked back at her sister through the trees; she could hardly make Atsila out, fighting for her life. Oh, why did she insist on being the hero? Kwasiyaa was the oldest. Kwasiyaa should be helping Atsila escape. Kwasiyaa felt as if someone had kicked her in the gut, and it wasn’t the baby. “Are you ready for this?” Dylan asked, his hand still hovering over the portal. “Not really,” Kwasiyaa whispered, looking back at the battle. “She’ll be fine,” Dylan soothed. “How do you know?” “Your sister is strong,” he comforted. “She’s brave and powerful. She will not rest until you're safe. Now, are you ready?” Kwasiyaa took a deep breath. “Yes.” Dylan took his wife’s hand and knelt back on the ground, though Kwasiyaa remained standing. He raised his free hand and took a deep breath as he rested the palm of his hand flat against the portal’s cold, solid surface. Almost at once, brilliant colors erupted from the ground, a bright contrast with the indigo-tinted forest. As the portal surrounded them, Kwasiyaa and Dylan’s visions were limited, as the dark world they knew as their home began to fade away against its bright, colorful light.

VIOLET/PURPLE - School of the Legends Year One

He qualified for a school for the gifted, majicked, and cursed. He was one of the gifted. One of the people his father tended to snear about. Tierney never took those remarks seriously. He was always into magic--obviously, he was working on potions earlier--so he often found himself defending people who were gifted. But he never considered going to a school for magic. He never even considered going to school, for crying out loud--he had tutors come to him. He wasn't against the idea--he could sure get out more and hang around kids around his age that weren’t nobility or related or both. And in America? This was a chance to show that he was special. He wasn't just the third-born son of the English king who blew things up. He was gifted. He could learn magic and maybe even master potions! He looked at the potions on his desk and smiled. Maybe he could figure out how to not blow things up while he was there. Tierney glanced down at the duvet he was sitting on. He rubbed his hand across it, feeling the familiar static shock. He kept sliding his palm back and forth and back and forth until he heard a crackling sound. He lifted his hand, concentrating as hard as he could, until he saw a spark. He rubbed his hands together until what appeared to be a purple lightning flickered around them. He stood, holding one hand palm-up, curling his fingers inward. A sparking purple ball of electricity had formed in his palm. He laughed giddly, opening his hand slightly so the ball got bigger. His hand shook and the electricity shot upward, blasting Tierney over the bed and causing him to crash onto the floor. Tierney groaned, pushing himself to his feet. The electric blast had burnt a hole through the canopy above his bed and made a small hole in the ceiling. So much for not wanting to blow something up today.

ROYGBIV tag

Thanks to @autumnalwalker for the tag!

Rules: Search your your writing for the colours of the rainbow and post the excerpt.

RED from BRIDGE FROM ASHES

My boss’s boss runs his hands across the slick red mess of my bare chest and holds up a gold-framed mirror. He tells me not to close my eyes. He tells me to look. He doesn’t know I can’t see myself anymore. He asks me what it feels like to be beautiful.

ORANGE from PROJECT DARWIN

Later that summer, Amber and I were lounging in her back garden on a scratchy blanket with satin edging that we’d stolen from one of the spare bedrooms, drinking cartons of sugary orange juice cold from the milkman’s truck and playing with the kitten.

YELLOW from PROJECT DARWIN

A year passed and the following spring danced in shades of green and yellow across Hawk’s Glen, the last of the snowdrops replaced by daffodils and the sun rising earlier to greet days that no longer pinched our cheeks with cold fingers.

GREEN from the short story CODE in my collection FIVE

And the light in my eyes and my clenched fists and the green line of my heartbeat and the person in the mask and the paper cup and every secret swallowed and every meaning lost.

BLUE from SPIN CYLINDER

I open the door onto the patio with a view of the ocean, turquoise reaching to sapphire blue beyond.

INDIGO from NOVEMBER BREAKS

My hand finds the texture left by the bullet. It’s too dark to see much, but I can fill in the detail from my fingertips and it manifests as a wireframe diagram with writhing veins and glowing indigo scar tissue piercing his body.

VIOLET PURPLE from NAME FROM NOWHERE

I look up and the sky fades from daylight to sunset to deep purple night. The air is velvet and time sinks into a slipstream of bliss and emptiness.

Tagging @mysticstarlightduck, @revenantlore and @aether-wasteland-s if you'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in 💜

14 notes · View notes

tyonfs · 4 years ago

Text

cat & mouse

❝ rule number one of bro code states that sisters are completely off-limits, and, y/n, we just pushed that limit. ❞

PAIRING ▸ na jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, crack, fluff, college au, friends with benefits au

WARNINGS ▸ lots of !! sexual tension !! and jaemin acting like a dick, protective big brother!jaehyun, lots of sneaking around, jaemin calls you princess a lot, teasing, fingering, alcohol consumption, hooking up, thigh riding, smut, oral sex, aftercare

SUMMARY ▸ tired of meaningless hookups and dull parties, na jaemin had always been hesitant to indulge himself. that is, of course, until he met you. however, upon realizing you’re none other than jeong jaehyun’s little sister, jaemin has to keep his relationship with you under wraps to make sure his team captain doesn’t find out.

PLAYLIST ▸ move! by niki • playinwitme by kyle (feat. kehlani)

WORD COUNT ▸ 17713 words

TAG LIST ▸ @chubsluda @celestialchans @treasurestay @luvlyjaemin @lanadreamie @kylomeyon @taehinsano @jenotation @ovelha-colorida-v @hrjflrt @to-blessed-2-be-stressed @honeyju @chanluster @sweetjaemss @najaemsenthusiastttt @neovrse @jjikyuu @treasurestay @ahgastayzen @wcnderlandss @jaehy9ngs @jaemxins @syhznanny @lilminyoongles @bbnana

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so much for all of your love and support !! it’s beyond me & i hope you guys enjoy this ! part of the dunk shot! series but it can be read separately ♡

NA JAEMIN HATED PARTIES.

In the same vein, he hated basketball to an extent. It wasn’t the sport itself that he despised, it was the commitments that followed it. As a vital player on the team, he was obligated to attend every afterparty despite how much he loathed parties. Yet, what he couldn’t stand was being nagged by his teammates, so Jaemin went to the parties. He went to the parties and drank until he was numb and the party was tolerable.

He didn’t even like drinking that much, but he didn’t have much of a choice when most of the members of the basketball team were his seniors. Jaemin was pretty sure his brain cells depleted one-by-one every time he took a shot, but sometimes he got away with faking his alcohol intake when the others were too drunk to keep track. His best friend, Lee Jeno, on the other hand, lived for parties like this. Jaemin used that to his advantage; Jeno was the perfect target to hand off his unwanted shots to.

“Jaemin!” Jeong Jaehyun, the captain of the basketball team, made his presence known easily. After all, the parties were always hosted at his house. “Let’s do a love shot.”

If it were anyone else, Jaemin would’ve turned them down with some sarcastic, witty comeback. However, Jaehyun was different. Jaemin admired him since they were high schoolers on the basketball team. Jaehyun was two years older but his skills were on another level. Jaemin had always worked to see if he could surpass him but to no avail.

“Sure.” Jaemin got off of the couch, where he was aimlessly scrolling through his social media and observing the party. He followed Jaehyun to the kitchen counter. “You got tequila?”

It was a stupid question. Jaehyun was loaded; his supply of alcohol seemed endless.

“Of course,” Jaehyun replied. He took a red solo cup and measured a shot of tequila. “By the way, why don’t you talk to any of the girls here? You seem tense. You should get laid.”

It wasn’t like Jaemin intentionally avoided the girls. He just had no interest in people who wanted to blindly hook-up and forget about it the next morning. He didn’t completely ignore them either. Jaemin distinctly remembered a pretty blonde passing him her vape pen, which he politely refused. While he didn’t mind destroying his liver, he wanted to keep his lungs intact.

“There’s no one here I want to fuck,” was Jaemin’s impassive response. “Especially not when they’re drunk off their ass.”

“Is that so? How much did you drink tonight?”

“This is my third or fourth shot, I think.”

Jaehyun snorted and held out the red solo cup to him. “Well, here’s to your intact virginity.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Jaemin took the cup and swished its contents around. “Can’t we toast to something more practical? Like basketball?”

A chuckle escaped Jaehyun’s lips, bemused like a father to his son. He eyed Jaemin as he held the red solo cup to his lips. “Ready?”

Jaehyun didn’t wait for Jaemin, though. He tipped his cup up, downing the contents, and Jaemin followed suit as quickly as he could. The tequila was a smooth burn down his throat, but it made Jaemin feel slow and hazy. The fire spread across his chest, spreading to his arms, legs, and then his head. He felt fuzzy and was sure he had hit his limit for the night.

Jaemin took an unstable step forward, and Jaehyun put a firm hand on his shoulder, asking, “You good?” to which Jaemin answered with a dazed nod. With a grin, Jaehyun patted his back firmly. “See you when we’re both conscious again, man.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur. Jaemin found himself at a beer pong table and, in his drunken state, pretended he was practicing his free throws while he relished the crowd cheering him on. He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, cheering wildly at the side until he got a headache. Eventually, the house felt too stuffy and he decided to go out to the backyard to let his buzz fade out.

Outside wasn’t any better. The cheers were louder outside and the music was still blasting. The fog in Jaemin’s head thickened and he was sure he felt hands trying to guide him to the pool, but he brushed them off. He narrowed his eyes onto a lawn chair and willed himself to walk straight towards it.

Sit, he ordered himself. Do not get in the pool and make a fool out of yourself.

After pushing past a few of his teammates and the girls hovering around them, Jaemin’s knees buckled under him as soon as he got to the lawn chair. It was damp when he sat down, but he was too drunk and dazed to care. Jaemin looked up at the sky, unfocused, and was only pulled from his thoughts when his phone went off.

annoying jeno: where tf did u go? this girl wants me to introduce her to u

It was time for another shot.

Jaemin felt heavy. He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, and spotted a red solo cup on the side table to his right. He reached for it and inspected the contents, sloshing it around sluggishly until he noticed a pair of eyes boring into him.

You were isolating yourself from the rest of the party, just like him. You weren’t giving him the sex eyes like he had expected; you looked more confused. Unlike Jaemin, you looked much more sober and functional. It was painfully obvious by the way Jaemin couldn’t seem to focus on you without seeing double.

He wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol in his system, but Jaemin had no idea who you were, but fuck, he wanted to. He pushed it down, though. Hookups were never fulfilling, and Jaemin wasn’t here to let himself go.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jaemin asked in a low voice, trying to speak coherently without slurring his words. He wasn’t sure if it worked, but you seemed to understand.

To his surprise, you fired a question back at him. “What are you doing?”

Jaemin wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was obviously drunk off his ass, so what was he supposed to explain when it was clear as day?

“Waiting for this stupid party to be over,” Jaemin replied. He dropped his gaze back to the cup he held on his lap. “Why are you still staring? I’m not interested.”

“You’re holding my drink.”

Jaemin stilled. He looked between you and the cup for a moment before muttering a pathetic “oh.” He flushed and held the cup out to you. “Sorry.”

You took the cup gingerly and downed your shot before advising him, “You know, you shouldn’t be taking random cups and drinking from them at parties. You never know what they could be laced with.”

Jaemin’s head lolled to the side, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t want to join the party, but he didn’t want to sit back and be scolded. He was debating making a run for the fence in Jaehyun’s backyard. His house was only a few blocks away and he was pretty sure he’d be sober enough to make it. Jeno, however, was the obstacle he was worried about. If he ran off without telling Jeno (who was going to disapprove anyway), he was sure to get an earful the next day.

“Also,” you continued, “don’t go around assuming every girl who looks in your general direction wants to fuck you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jaemin grumbled, too drained to argue back. “Shouldn’t you be partying with everyone? It’s depressing over here.”

“This isn’t my party to celebrate,” you said, biting down on the rim of your cup delicately. “I’m just here for the drinks.”

Jaemin didn’t know what to say to that, so he decided to introduce himself. “I’m Na Jaemin, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied. “Pleasure to meet you, Na Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s eyelashes were obscuring his vision as he tried to squint to make you out. He wasn’t sure if it was the drunken stupor, but you were breathtaking. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that Jaemin was currently seeing double of you. Jaemin wasn’t sure how he had ever missed you at any of the other parties (if you even showed up to those), but he was glad he snuck away to the backyard now.

Jaemin turned back to look at the scene before him, full of shrieks and shouts from partygoers as they danced off-beat to the blasting music. He almost didn’t notice the ultimate bastard, Yuta Nakamoto, walking over with his eyes set on not Jaemin, but you. Yuta only seemed to see Jaemin when he neared the two and, despite the awkward pause in the air, held his hand up to fistbump him. Jaemin lazily returned it, not really processing until seconds later when Yuta had already passed him.

It wasn’t that Yuta and Jaemin had any bad blood between them. Rather, Jaemin found the older boy quite fun to be around, and on top of that, he was a really supportive and caring teammate. However, when it came to parties, Yuta tended to be a lot more high-energy than Jaemin was.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yuta crooned deviously, standing over you with his hands shoved in his pockets. He crouched down so he was at eye-level with you, holding onto the arm of your chair. “Care to dance with me?”

“Yuta Nakamoto,” you drawled, a smile appearing on your lips. “I’m good over here, but you go have fun.”

Yuta stood up again, a cat-like grin spreading from ear-to-ear across his face as he stepped back toward the pool. “You’re gonna miss out, Y/N. You cool with that?”

The smile never left your lips as you rolled your eyes at him. Yuta turned to dive into the pool, making Jaemin’s nose scrunch as the splash was big enough to get water on his clothes. When Yuta surfaced, he smoothed his hair back and wiped the excess water from his face. He caught your eye again, winking before swimming toward Jungwoo and splashing him, leaving you shaking your head and chuckling.

“You two close?” Jaemin asked in a mumble, not quite sure where he was going with the sudden conversation.

You were shocked momentarily, but smiled when you looked over at Jaemin. “Let’s just say he wants to get in my pants but I find the age gap inappropriate.”

Jaemin snorted. “Really? How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Jaemin rose a brow. He was just a year older than you but not so far off from Yuta. He hadn’t seen many college students be so conscious of a legal age difference of a year or two. After all, nearly everyone was an adult anyway.

“That’s not so far off from Yuta,” he told you.

You hid a smile, nearly going unnoticed under the dim light, but Jaemin had just caught it in time. “He’s like, my brother’s age,” you replied. “It’s just weird.”

Jaemin didn’t really get it, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He was an only child so he didn’t really think his opinion was valid anyway. Yet, he must have been looking at you weird because you bit your lip and shrunk under his gaze. Jaemin swallowed and turned back to look down at his feet, trying to get his head out of the clouds, but the buzz was still too strong.

He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “What if it was me?”

“Huh?”

He wasn’t looking at you but he could feel your gaze boring into him. Jaemin wanted to melt into a puddle then and there. He was never the type to make a move like that, usually expecting girls to approach him, but now that he did, his skin was crawling with shame. Although, he figured it wouldn’t be too bad if he ended the night in bed with you.

Jaemin worked up the courage to turn his gaze to you. “I’m a year older than you. Would you be down if it was me?”

“Yeah,” you admitted bluntly, causing the tips of Jaemin’s ears to go red. “But I don’t know you, so…”

“Do you want to?” he asked, then clarified, “Get to know me, I mean.”

The two of you were silent for a moment, and it was far more deafening than the booming party around them. Jaemin’s gaze dropped from your face to look back at the college students wading around in the pool. Someone must have messed with the pool because it had started to fill up with bubbles, making the crowd cheer louder. Entranced, Jaemin nearly didn’t notice you when you were standing right over him. He arched a brow at you, scooting back a little out of shock.

“Do you want to get out of here then?”

You were smiling coyly and Jaemin didn’t have the willpower to resist anymore. He stood up, looking around for Jeno, before turning to you and nodding. Everyone was so consumed with the pool foaming up that it would be easy for them to escape from the backyard.

“I’m way too drunk to drive, but we can go for a walk,” Jaemin suggested, leading her out through the backyard fence. He had escaped from there countless times, only for Jeno to drag him back, but this time, Jeno was preoccupied.

Yet, something unsettled him about not informing his best friend, so he decided to shoot him a quick text.

jaemin: i’ll see u back home, i’m with a girl lol

annoying jeno: deadass? have fun

Now, at least Jaemin had one thing off his chest.

“So what’s your deal?” Jaemin asked you as he tried to focus on walking in a straight line. “You have guys like Yuta Nakamoto lining up for you and you’re passing up my boy?”

“If he’s your boy then why are you trying to make a pass at me?” you shot back, grabbing his arm to provide leverage when he stumbled.

“Touché,” Jaemin grumbled. “It’s not like he was scoring, so I might as well shoot my shot.”

“Did you score?”

The corner of Jaemin’s mouth twitched. “That’s for you to decide, isn’t it?”

Mutual attraction was such a strange feeling because the sexual tension was there and so loud. Granted, about 90% of it came from Jaemin, but something about the way you were still holding onto his arm and laughing at his stupid jokes made him feel like something was going to happen tonight.

“We should stargaze,” you offered, pointing at a grassy hill behind a park the both of you were passing by. Jaemin nodded in response, so you dragged him by the arm to the chosen location.

Stargazing meant laying down, and laying down meant not having to focus on walking in a straight line anymore, so it sounded absolutely heavenly to Jaemin right now. Somehow, he felt like such an amateur right now. No girl had ever asked him to lay down and stargaze with him; they always just skipped to the bedroom fun.

You let go of Jaemin to lay down on the grass, positioning yourself like a starfish before patting the space next to you and then moving your hands to rest on your stomach. You looked entranced with the stars above you, but the moment Jaemin laid down next to you, you turned to him, catching him off-guard. Jaemin’s eyes flickered from you to the sky above.

“The stars are beautiful,” he said weakly.

He couldn’t even see the fucking stars.

“Damn, I thought you were gonna call me beautiful for a second,” you teased, nudging his shoulder lightly.

“You wish,” Jaemin said with a light snort, swallowing thickly. “There’s no way I’m calling a girl that over my dead body.”

He was a terrible liar. It was clear when Na Jaemin was feeling lustful. His eyes would turn half-lidded and his voice would drop a few octaves. Right now, all of that was happening along with his fingers twitching at his sides. You were looking back up at the sky when he turned his head to look at you, and god, you were so pretty.

“Girls must come running for you,” you told him, “otherwise I really can’t figure out the ego.”

“That’s the problem when you’re a star basketball player and devilishly handsome.” Jaemin grinned, folding his arms behind his head. “You turn out like me.”

“How mortifying.”

“I know, right?” Jaemin turned onto his side for a brief moment to look at you. “How come I’ve never seen you around before. I’m sure I would’ve remembered…”

“Because I’m beautiful?” you offered.

Jaemin groaned, pink dusting his cheeks. “Why are you so fixed on that?”

You laughed in response while Jaemin just stared at the heartstopping curve of your lips. He felt himself grow hot, anticipation mixed with the weight of the situation. He had never been the type to feel so jittery around a girl, but here he was, a touch anxious because he was afraid of doing something wrong.

“That’s Orion’s Belt there,” you pointed out. “Can you see Betelgeuse?”

You turned to look at Jaemin to see if you had his attention, but did a double-take upon realizing that you, in fact, had his full attention. His eyes were directly on you, not the night sky above. The both of you were so painfully close, and Jaemin couldn’t resist when he reached over to brush a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“I can’t see the stars,” he mumbled, his large hand moving to cup your cheek. When your gazes were locked, he caressed your cheek with his thumb gently and leaned in to kiss you.

Well, he was about to kiss you until he felt your finger pressing against his lips.

“I’m down for whatever,” you told him sweetly, “but I don’t kiss on the first date.”

Jaemin wasn’t sure what to make of that. Sure, he found it a little weird, but he could see the reasoning behind it. You were probably one of those people who saved your kisses for something special—whatever that meant. Honestly, Jaemin didn’t really care about the significance, but he did know it would be amplified if he found “the one.”

“So this is a date now?” he asked, amused.

“Somewhat.”

Jaemin huffed lightly and leaned back, letting his hand retract back to his side. “Down for whatever? Even sex?”

You raised a very attractive eyebrow at him, making Jaemin short-circuit for a split second. “If you play your cards right,” you said airily, your voice all light and fluffy.

“Down for whatever but the offer isn’t extended to anyone over the age of twenty-one.”

You punched his shoulder hard this time. “Bite me.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Whatever made Jaemin’s confidence swell was taking over fast. In seconds, Jaemin propped himself up with his elbow, using his free hand to brush your hair to the side and tilting your neck so he could have easier access to it.

To test the waters, Jaemin nipped at your supple skin, earning a hitch in your slowed breathing that encouraged him to do more. Jaemin left open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking harshly with each one. He licked his lips when he pulled away to look at your neck. You were tough to bruise but he loved a challenge. He maneuvered his body over you so he could indulge himself further, holding himself up with his forearms.

Jaemin dipped under your chin again, ravishing the side of your neck that he targeted. He littered the column of your neck with dark hickeys, smirking against your skin upon the sight. You were a squirming mess under him, tugging at his hair and bucking your hips up against his. Jaemin grunted softly, his hands pushing your hips down so you could no longer tempt him.

You wrapped your hands around him, one hand sliding up the nape of his neck to curl your fingers in his hair. Hands weren’t normally something that made Jaemin weak, but yours were driving him crazy with one in his hair and the other bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

He cupped the apex of your jeans, smug as you whined at his touch, yearning for more. Jaemin’s free hand grazed your waist before he lowered it to your hip. He pulled away from your neck to meet your gaze, biting his lip at your lustful expression.

“Can I?” he asked, pressing down slightly against your apex.

You nodded, about to say something but got cut off when Jaemin moved his hand down and palmed your clothed clit. Jaemin smirked once he heard the soft sigh falling from your lips. His breathing got heavier, mixing with yours as he started fumbling to unbutton your jeans.

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Jaemin…”

Jaemin swallowed hard and tugged your jeans down your hips a little. He felt like he was losing control with every touch. He just wanted to hold you in his arms and spend the rest of the night with you, and it was impossible to shake off that feeling when you were looking at him like that.

He playfully snapped the waistband of your panties, letting out a chuckle when your face twisted up and you pushed at his chest. Then, you drew him closer again and guided his hand down your pants. Jaemin took a shaky breath when he felt how wet you were. It filled him with pride, of course, but he had suddenly felt so nervous. He had hooked up with girls before, but this felt weird to him. Different, to an extent. They were just going through the motions, but he was struck with some strange feeling that he didn’t want to mess up or do something wrong. It was like his first time all over again when he had no idea what he was doing.

His silent cry for help was answered with rain.

“Jesus, it’s raining now?” Jaemin asked with a disapproving huff, pulling his hand out of your pants. He wondered if the people in Jaehyun’s backyard were going to move back inside or keep partying through rain and storm.

“It is?” You frowned and reached a hand over him to catch some raindrops. “You make a nice umbrella, Na Jaemin.”

“How kind of you,” Jaemin replied, a bit distracted by the rain pelting his back. “Should we make a run back to Jaehyun’s or do you want to, like…”

“Do I want to do it outside in the rain?” you asked, quirking a brow at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Worth a shot.”

Jaemin hauled himself up to his feet, holding a hand out for you so you could stand. You started patting down your clothes and fixing your fly. Jaemin did the same, making sure he looked presentable but he kept quiet about the dark hickey on the side of your neck. He squinted up at the drizzle of rain from the sky.

Cockblock, Jaemin thought bitterly.

Yet another distraction came in the form of a text message. Specifically, a text message from Lee Jeno.

annoying jeno: i’m going back to the apartment and ik ur with a girl but i left the keys at home so pls open the door

“Son of a bitch,” Jaemin grumbled to himself. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and looked at you when he noticed your questioning stare. Jaemin ran his hands down your arms, then held your waist gently. “I have to go.”

“Go?” you asked him, startled.

“Yeah,” Jaemin replied with a sigh, not wanting to divulge how idiotic his roommate was. “Can I get your number?”

This perked you right up, thankfully. Jaemin was satisfied as he watched you enter your phone number in his phone. This almost made him feel better about having to leave you alone to walk back to Jaehyun’s house in the rain.

Scratch that. He still felt like a piece of shit.

Jaemin slept off the party rather well.

He was in a bit of a mood, however, seeming tired and cranky in the morning. He had nearly thrown his phone at Jeno’s face when his best friend tried to shake him awake in the morning. It was a miracle that he showed up on time for his lecture. Around the afternoon, he received a text from you and was far more awake and alert after that. By the time he got to basketball, though, he was in a much better mood.

That is, until Jaehyun called for a team meeting.

The basketball team members were all sitting on the bleachers, waiting for a pissed-off Jaehyun to speak. Jeno picked at his nails next to Jaemin while YangYang in front of them was fiddling with the basketball. Jaehyun was only ever serious during games, but now his anger showed in a subtle and scary way that even Taeyong was a bit shaken by the change in his mood.

“Now, I’m going to say this once and you all better listen up carefully,” Jaehyun said in a low, dangerous voice. “If anyone—and I mean anyone—lays a hand on my little sister, then I will make sure you look uglier than you already are.”

Taeyong whistled lowly, impressed.

“Yuta,” Jaehyun continued, eyes narrowing at the older boy, “this message was inspired by you.”

“Received, reflecting, and apologizing,” Yuta said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll back off, Captain.”

“Good,” Jaehyun replied curtly as Yuta and Taeyong started to banter playfully over the topic.

Jaemin was unsettled. Jaehyun was upset over someone going after his younger sister? Now, Yuta was a flirt, but he recalled him pining for you last night and there was no way you were Jaehyun’s sister, right?

“Hey, Jeno.” Jaemin nudged the boy with his elbow. “Who exactly is Jaehyun’s sister?”

“Isn’t it Jeong Y/N?” he answered.

Goodbye world, was Jaemin’s first thought.

Yuta was flirting with you last night, but Jaemin straight-up nearly fingered you and—oh god, the hickey. Jaemin was at the end of his line right now, and if you said anything to Jaehyun, he was sure he was going to get his ass beat. He was starting to regret giving up his non-hookup life because of you; the only person Jaemin was flirting with now was Death.

“You good?” Jeno’s brows were knitted in concern.

“Jeno.” Jaemin swallowed down the dry lump in his throat. “Remember how I told you I was with a girl last night?”

“Yeah?” Jeno asked, searching Jaemin’s eyes for an answer. He found it rather quickly, eyes widening and voice dropping to a whisper. “Oh my god.” His gaze flickered from Jaemin to Jaehyun several times. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Jaemin whispered back. “We were both drunk. I’ll just ghost her subtly and she’ll forget about me. Easy.”

Jeno raised a brow at his plan. “Is hooking up with Jaehyun’s little sister worse than breaking her heart?”

“Oh please, it was one night. Give it a day or two. She won’t give a fuck.” Even though I kind of do, he added in his head.

The next time Jaemin saw you was after practice ended a few days later.

It had to be impossible that you could look any better than you did the last time he saw you, but here you were. It was unfair, really. Jaemin was a college student that was amped up with testosterone and hormones, and now he had no place to channel it. He was a second away from dragging you into an empty room and letting himself go with you, but then he remembered your older brother, and the horny thoughts dissolved into fear and shame.

“Ah, Jaemin,” you greeted with a cheerful smile.

Fuck, why did you have to be so cute?

Jaemin opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it and looked away from you. He leaned against the side of the bleachers and sighed while you were puzzled by his behavior. Although he wanted to ignore you, you were right there and the two of you were alone. Jaemin knew that the other guys wouldn’t be out of the locker rooms for another five minutes.

His gaze dropped to your hickey. It was so clear that you didn’t bother trying to cover it up, and the sight made Jaemin feel proud in some twisted way. Instinctively, he reached over and brushed his thumb over the sensitive bruise, smirking when you shivered.

“It looks good on you,” Jaemin complimented.

“Thanks.” You scoffed, then a mischievous glint shone in your eyes. “Maybe you should give me some more then.”

Jaemin stiffened, in a lot more ways than he should’ve. He gritted his teeth, willing the blood not to rush down all at once. He could not get horny at school when Jaehyun could walk out any second. And the older boy did. Jaemin backed away from you instantly, acting as if you were just some stranger passing by.

“I’ll pass,” he muttered under his breath and was sure you heard when he saw your face drop.

Great. Now he felt like an asshole.

“I gotta go,” he mumbled quickly before you could say anything else, moving past you to walk over to Jeno, high-fiving Jaehyun as he did. Jaemin didn’t have time to register your expression, but nevertheless, he felt like shit.

Jeno looked suspicious as Jaemin approached him. “Did you…”

“End it?” Jaemin finished for him. “I think so.”

“Can you just stop being a dick and talk to her?”

Ticked off, Jaemin took a deep breath. “If I talk to her, then one thing will lead to another, and Jaehyun—”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupted. “This isn’t about Jaehyun. This is about you and Y/N.”

Jaemin screamed out something incomprehensible and put his hands over his ears. “I can’t hear you, Lee Jeno. Can’t hear you over me getting ready to go to a party and get wasted tonight.”

“Na Jaemin, you’re my best friend but you’re an idiot.”

“I know that.” Jaemin made a face. “But it’s time for me to go and forget that.”

Jaemin never failed to forget how much he hated parties. He was starting to regret showing up in the first place. One of his teammates, Jungwoo, had let him into his frat party. Normally, guys were selectively chosen because the frat boys wanted more girls, but Jaemin was wasting his opportunity of getting in by doing absolutely nothing.

This was why he didn’t like drinking. He wasn’t even fun when he was drunk; Jeno was a social butterfly, Yuta was a flirt, but Jaemin would just wonder if plants existed and think about you.

“You look pissed off,” Jungwoo observed, holding out a red dixie cup to him. “Are you sure you want to party?”

“Yes,” Jaemin grumbled, taking the cup from him and downing it in seconds. “I need to let go.”

“Of?”

“Myself.”

Jaemin patted Jungwoo’s back firmly and moved to the kitchen to pour himself another shot. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He let himself get all worked up over some girl he barely even hooked up with. All he did was kiss your neck and here Jaemin was, looking like some cheap, heartbroken loser.

Oh, Jaemin thought out of the blue. I never told her she was pretty.

Jaemin took another shot, closing his eyes firmly as he thought of laying next to you again under the stars. Your lips looked so soft and kissable, your eyes so curious and alluring. He tried to push it away and focus on the party and getting drunk, but you kept appearing in his head like a mirage.

Let go, Jaemin, he told himself. Indulge yourself.

Jaemin leaned against the counter, bored. He sloshed the contents of his cup around, taking another shot when he felt the buzz start to wear out. A pretty brunette walked past him, flashing a coy smile.

He supposed she was one of the cheerleaders, or maybe she was a sorority girl. Either way, she was attractive and Jaemin could use the physical contact tonight. Part of him felt like it was the wrong thing to do, but all he could think about was how annoying it was to overthink every little thing he did.

Jaemin made his way over to her, tapping people’s shoulders and maneuvering his way through the cramped frat house. Everyone was clustered like schools of fish. Jaemin hated this kind of environment, but nevertheless, he put on a mask and did his best to fit in.

“Hey,” he greeted the girl once he found her. “I’m Na Jaemin.”

She smiled in that pretty way again. “I know you. You’re on the basketball team.” She looked embarrassed for a moment, flushing as she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I bet you don’t know me, though.”

“I don’t,” Jaemin admitted, “but you have a gorgeous smile.”

She beamed at this. “Hey, could you hold my cup for a second?” she asked, holding out her red dixie cup to him.

You want me to hold your cup when you can barely hold a conversation? Jaemin thought distastefully but took the cup anyway.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and waited for her patiently, and when she came back, Jaemin could tell she had left to touch-up her makeup. He could also detect the faintest spritz of perfume, but he wasn’t exactly sure, so he leaned closer to make sure.

Jaemin wasn’t sure how they ended up making out in one of the empty bedrooms upstairs, but by the time she was taking off her bra, he wanted to leave. He did his best not to look as bored as he felt throughout the heavy petting and removal of clothing, but his biggest fuck-up was worse than he had expected.

Even Jaemin himself felt mortified by what had just escaped his lips. By the disgusted look in the girl’s eyes, he was fairly confident this was going to spread around the school. As Jaemin was trying to conjure up some excuse for his actions, the girl stood up and started gathering her clothes.

“I’m not Y/N,” she muttered and left him alone in the room.

“Well, shit,” Jaemin grumbled, running a hand through his tousled hair after she left. “Should’ve told me your name then.”

Jaemin laid back on the bed, putting his hands over his face. He was royally screwed at this point and wondered if he had a shot at redemption. The fact that you were still on his mind was messing with him. Even now, after totally embarrassing himself, he was still stuck on you. To avoid further embarrassment, he pulled out his phone to deflect whatever impulsive action was creeping up his limbs.

jaemin: ok jeno im texting u instead of drunk texting y/n and confessing how badly i wanna kiss her

y/n: hi this is y/n

Jaemin wondered what sin he committed in his past life to get this unlucky.

jaemin: shit

jaemin: don’t talk to me i’m drunk at a party

y/n: jaemin you texted me first

jaemin: ugh i wanna see u so bad

jaemin: wanna make it up to u

y/n: oh my

y/n: you’re a little too drunk for that

y/n: but send me the address. i’ll come over and take you home

Jaemin was 98.75% sure that this was, by far, the stupidest thing he could do. Nevertheless, he shared his address with you and waited for you to come to get him. He hung out with Jungwoo in the meantime, slinging an arm around the older boy’s shoulder and confessing his embarrassing hookup while Jungwoo was high as a kite.

When you texted Jaemin that you were outside the frat house, he opened the door almost instantly. Jaemin couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face when you were standing right in front of him. You opened your mouth to say something, but Jaemin cut you off.

“I might have… might have called out your name during a hookup,” he confessed, slurring his words while he tried to speak coherently.

You looked like you were deciding whether to think it was funny or be suspicious over the fact that he tried to hook up with someone and then texted you afterward. Eventually, you ended up laughing at his story, tutting at his actions. Jaemin walked by your side, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He closed his eyes in an attempt to come back to his senses, only to be dragged back onto the sidewalk by you because he was apparently straying into the road.

“How much did you drink?” was your first question and one that Jaemin wasn’t sure he had an answer for.

“Six? Seven shots?” Jaemin counted but lost track after he held up five fingers. “I haven’t gotten this hammered in a while.”

“You’ve been flighty,” you told him. “I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you again.”

Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “That was the plan.”

“What?”

End it now, Jaemin, the devious half of his mind instructed. Break it off before it’s too late.

“I don’t exactly do hookups anymore, Y/N,” he said, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but you happened to break that streak for him. But then came the lie. “I’m not looking for anything serious now either, and I’m sure you aren’t.”

They walked in silence onto the campus grounds, turning into the street where the student apartments were. You looked down at your feet, a little more disappointed than Jaemin had expected. More than that, it looked as though you were embarrassed.

Cue Na Jaemin feeling like a douchebag, which he was.

“Aren’t you the one who asked if I wanted to get to know you?” you asked him, brow arched.

Jaemin panicked, his words trapped in his throat for a second. Well, you got him there. He didn’t have a good excuse that made him sound less of a dick. Although, he was already probably about to be blacklisted from your life pretty soon, so it didn’t really matter.

“I was drunk,” Jaemin said as his brain was trying to throw random words at him. “I didn’t know what I was thinking.”

They made it to Jaemin’s apartment, which was thankfully on the first floor because he didn’t think he could stand an awkward elevator ride with you. You didn’t look at Jaemin once, but it didn’t seem as though you were angry. Rather, you looked confused, but Jaemin swallowed down his guilt and took a step back once they were at his door.

“Besides,” he continued shamelessly to deliver the final blow, “you always have Yuta.”

You rolled your eyes at him and stormed off at once after those words. Jaemin was left alone, still looking down at his feet. He let out a long, dragged-out sigh, hitting his head back against the solid wood of his door.

“Idiot,” he scolded himself.

It took Jaemin a whole week and a half to get over you.

Even then, he didn’t really get over what happened. He just stopped blaming himself for it in front of Jeno and internalized everything else. Talking to Jeno didn’t really help, anyway, because Jaemin would just be hit with the “I told you so” and then be silently judged by his best friend.

Jeno had gone home for the long weekend, though, so Jaemin could finally mope about his apartment without Jeno smacking him upside the head and calling him a loser. Although Jaemin agreed with that, he was tired of remembering how shitty of a person and it was a constant reminder of how he treated you.

Although, he didn’t expect that reminder to physically manifest when he saw you in the hallway of his apartment on Friday night.

“Y/N?” he blurted out impulsively.

Jaemin had just decided to get something from the vending machine, not expecting to see you when he was standing in front of his doorway in his grey sweatpants and lack of shirt. His hair was bedraggled from staying in bed all day after his morning lecture ended. In short, he wasn’t exactly presentable and this wasn’t the look he wanted you to see.

“Jaemin,” you said softly, looking a bit startled. “I was just leaving my friend’s place.”

“Look—”

“It’s fine, Jaemin.” You managed a small smile for him. “There’s no hard feelings, okay? Water under the bridge.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said, biting your lip afterward. “I just hope you’re not one of those guys who ghosts the girl if they don’t get sex out of it.”

Jaemin could feel the ice in your tone but brushed it off. “Honestly, I don’t care about sex that much.”

“Then what do you care about?”

Jaemin fixed his gaze on you, narrowing his eyes. He should have been grateful that you didn’t take it too personally and had forgiven him, but something was off. He didn’t doubt your reasons for being here, but an undercurrent of desire was definitely still there.

His morals were bouncing around his skull, warring with each other. Jaehyun was yelling at him to stop, but you were also there, and so fucking pretty. You wanted him, and he wanted you—it was almost perfect if it weren’t for your overprotective older brother who Jaemin respected too much. Then again, Jaemin had been shouldering too much guilt over the past week. He was sure he could handle some more.

What Jaehyun didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

The hallway was empty, doused with lingering sleep. The world was dark outside but under the dim, flickering hallway light was you. And Jaemin was at his limit; he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Jaemin?” you asked, and something inside him snapped.

He grabbed your hands first before pushing you up against the wall and sealing his lips over yours. Your face morphed into a shocked expression, only making Jaemin amused as he pinned your hands up and over your head. Your lips were so warm and soft, molding against Jaemin’s lips perfectly. He felt your hands wrap around his neck to draw him closer, inciting a soft groan from the back of his throat. It was kind of pathetic that he was already hard, and he was sure you were aware of it by how he was pressed up against your lower body.

Jaemin picked you up effortlessly, scooping you into his arms by your thighs. You let out a little shriek and grabbed onto his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his torso at his encouragement. Jaemin took you into his room, kicking the door closed with his foot before heading to his room and dropping you on his bed.

He had never actually let a girl into his room, so this was a first. Somehow, seeing you on his own bed was so arousing, and he had half a mind to just take you then and there. Jaemin made you sit at the edge of the bed while he stood between your legs, hands on your thighs. You looked confused for a moment, but let Jaemin run his hands up and down your thighs.

You and Jaemin should not be in bed together. Under no circumstances should the two of you even be acquainted in the slightest. The fact that you two met was all one big, cosmic coincidence, but sometimes the stars loved fucking around with human affairs.

“I told you I had to make it up to you,” Jaemin said in a low voice, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “You don’t have to forgive me but I can’t keep being a coward.”

“A coward? More like a douchebag,” you told him, holding his wrist so you could bite the tip of his finger as you looked up at him through your lashes. “But glad you came to your senses.”

“So you forgive me then?”

You smiled, all innocent and pure, unlike your words. “Not unless you make it up to me.”

Jaemin dropped his gaze down to your shorts, eyeing them for a moment before he started tugging them down. You raised your hips to help him take your shorts off, followed by your panties. Jaemin nearly sighed at the sight of you; you were so gorgeous and so ready for him. He wanted to completely blow your mind.

Then, the nerves got to Jaemin again.

“Y/N,” he started, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just cuddle or something.”

“Na Jaemin, if you don’t make me cum, I will scream,” you warned.

“Yeah?” Jaemin chuckled at your reaction. “I think you’re going to scream either way, though.”

“Shut up.”

Jaemin laughed, brushing your hair out of your face. He caressed your cheek, rubbing slow circles with his thumb before he dragged it down to your jawline. A small pout appeared on your lips and he ran his thumb over your bottom lip again as if he could wipe your pout away.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Jaemin said.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, Jaemin plunged his finger in you, thumb quickly finding purchase on your clit and rubbing in slow, languid circles. He wasn’t very satisfied by your shell-shocked silence, so he added a second finger to get you moaning and squirming at his actions.

You gasped when Jaemin curled his fingers, and he relished the dazed expression on your face. He watched your eyelashes flutter and eyelids droop as he scissored his fingers in you, earning him blissful moans from your pretty lips. One of your hands was gripping the sheets at your side while the other was gripping Jaemin’s shoulder tightly. He knew he was doing a good job by the way your walls clenched around his fingers, and it made him swell with pride.

“You’re such an asshole,” you whimpered out, moaning again as he curled his fingers in you.

“Then why do you still want me?” Jaemin hissed. “You should have just hated me. I would have been fine if you weren’t so fucking perfect.”

You cried out as he plunged another finger in you. “Shit, you’re just—oh god.” Jaemin could tell you were at your peak, so he pulled his fingers out of you immediately, smirking at how distressed you looked.

Jaemin popped his fingers in his mouth, sucking off your juices. “You taste so good, princess.”

You scowled at him. “F-finish me off, at least,” you pleaded.

Jaemin gripped your thighs. “Oh, trust me, I will.”

Jaemin lowered himself and met your eyes before he leaned forward and sealed his lips over your clit, sucking harshly on the ball of nerves. You were so sweet and so wet, but what made Jaemin go crazy was the way the both of you locked eyes while he was between your legs. He let out a groan that vibrated against you.

He licked a strip along your slit, pleased with his reward of pants and moans from you. Your thighs squirmed around him so he gripped them harder and moved his hands up to your hips so he could eat you out with more vigor.

Jaemin snaked his tongue along your folds and you were gone. Already edged from being fingered, you were at your peak already. Back arching off the bed and hips squirming, Jaemin tongued your clit as he coaxed you into your orgasm. By the sound of your moans and cries, he felt like he was going to cum in his pants any second if you didn’t stop. You released over his tongue so easily, and Jaemin lapped it up as you made an effort to catch your breath.

At first, Jaemin was over the moon. He hooked up with you and wanted more. You were so enticing and Jaemin couldn’t get enough of you. Then came the crushing guilt. It registered a bit late, but it was all the more painful. He had just eaten out his friend’s little sister and couldn’t help the fact that he wanted her so badly.

“Not bad, Jaemin,” you breathed out, fixing your hair as your thighs still stiffened and twitched every now and then. “Is this the part where you push me away and ghost me for another week?”

Jaemin ran a hand through his hair, battling frustration and shame. “Look,” he started, “the reason I pushed you away was because you didn’t tell me your brother is Jeong Jaehyun!”

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “Yeah, he’s my brother. Is that a problem?” Jaemin let out a heavy sigh and you raised a brow at him. “You got a crush on him or something?”

Jaemin’s expression soured. “No! He’s my friend and teammate, Y/N. There’s an unspoken bro code between us men.”

You rolled your eyes. “Here we go.”

“Rule number one of bro code states that sisters are completely off-limits,” Jaemin said. “And, Y/N, we just pushed that limit.”

“You know, in girl code, we ask the friend for permission,” you offered.

“Jaehyun rounded us up at practice and told us that if anyone lays a hand on his little sister, he’s going to kill them,” Jaemin said. “I’m too young to die.”

You stood up to push Jaemin down by his shoulders, sitting him on the edge of the bed. Jaemin’s breath got caught in his throat when you sat on his lap, right where his bulge was painfully tented beneath his sweatpants. You traced his v-cut abs, making Jaemin shiver in response. He held your hips and swallowed thickly. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. If you were about to ride him, he was sure he could die a happy man.

“Jaemin, my brother doesn’t control my life, so he’s not killing you over anything, okay?” you reassured him, then leaned in closer, nibbling on his earlobe. Jaemin shivered at the contact, tightening his grip on you. “But, if you’re so worried about it, then we could sneak around.”

A guttural groan escaped Jaemin when you rolled your hips against his. Were you teasing him? Because it was hard for him to think and this distraction wasn’t helping. Either way, all he could think about was making you cum again and seeing that delicate look on your face as you crumbled in front of him.

“Sneak—sneak around?” Jaemin stammered, mouth going dry when you started taking off your shirt, and fuck, you weren’t wearing a bra. “Huh?”

“Jaemin,” you said slowly, smirking as you traced a finger along his jawline. “If you don’t want Jaehyun to catch us, we can just meet up secretly.”

If this was a game of cat and mouse, there was a clear power difference right now; Jaemin felt more like the mouse while you were the cat.

Jaemin’s eyes darkened a bit. “Fuck yeah,” he mumbled, hand grazing your bare skin. His eyes devoured the way you looked, and you wanted to squirm at the hungry look on his face. It was kind of embarrassing how badly Jaemin wanted to skip this whole conversation and fuck you into oblivion.

“Jaemin,” you called again, noting how his eyes flitted from your lips to your eyes.

He gave up. “I’ll be honest. I have no idea what we’re talking about but if we’re keeping this going between us, I’m all for it.”

“Good answer,” you hummed and pressed your lips to his.

You were a damn good kisser, Jaemin observed. He didn’t notice it before, but you had on some sort of fruity chapstick on that was making his head go fuzzy. The taste was addicting, and thank god you bit down on his lower lip because he wasn’t sure if he could handle another second without his tongue in your mouth.

He pulled away for a moment so he could push you down onto the bed, getting over you. Jaemin sighed deeply as you skimmed your hands down his bare chest, fingers tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You know, I lied that night,” you told Jaemin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m not usually down for whatever, but I wanted to try my chance with you.”

Jaemin tutted at you, circling a finger around your nipple. “You shouldn’t have lied, Y/N,” he said, making you whimper when he pinched your hard nipple. “Could’ve stroked my ego a little more.”

“Sorry, but I’m not here to stroke your ego, Jaemin,” you simpered, choking over your words when Jaemin pressed open-mouthed kisses to your chest, eventually snaking his hot tongue across your nipple.

“You already are,” Jaemin murmured against your skin, littering hickeys as he kissed your chest. “Your reactions are so cute.”

Jaemin sucked on his fingers for a brief moment to provide some extra lubrication, not that you really needed it. He used his pointer and middle finger to rub against your slit, your whines growing needier as you became more and more aroused. After one more needy mewl from your lips, Jaemin had enough. He tugged his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, his hard cock slapping against his stomach once it was free.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned brokenly, eyeing the length of his cock.

“Such a good girl,” he crooned down at you, teasing his cock against your slit until you were a gasping, moaning mess under him. Then, Jaemin pulled away, clicking his tongue and grinning while you narrowed your eyes at him. “Condom,” he remembered.

Jaemin got off the bed to retrieve the silver packet from his nightstand, tearing it open with his teeth in one go. He caught you staring at how incredibly hung he was, smirking proudly as he slid the condom onto his shaft. He pumped it once for good measure and moved back onto the bed with you.

He stayed on his knees, angling your hips up so that they were positioned with his cock. You looked confused by the awkward position, but Jaemin melted away your worries with a powerful thrust into you. He groaned at how tight you were with your warm, wet walls clenching around him rhythmically.

Jaemin could tell he was hitting all the right spots by the broken moans that were escaping you when he pounded in you. His own growls were low and grating, relishing the way you felt around him. You were clutching his sheets so tight and bucking your hips so often that Jaemin had to use a hand to push your lower abdomen down, smirking as he felt his cock move in and out of you.

“You’re so big,” you gasped out, looking visibly frustrated at how you couldn’t hold onto him.

“Princess, I regret not doing this earlier,” Jaemin admitted with another rough thrust into you, making you sob out some distorted version of his name. “You feel so fucking good.”

“I’m close,” you choked out, and Jaemin kindly aided you by rubbing your clit as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

You tucked your head into your shoulder, biting back your cries, so Jaemin grabbed your hair in a fistful and tilted it back so he could see your face. A shudder ran down his spine. Your expression was so perfect, so fucked in and glazed over.

“Shit,” he growled, voice raspy from arousal as you came undone in front of him.

His nimble fingers continued to work on your clit as you fell apart, moans ringing in his ears like a song. He followed you into your bliss, unable to hold back. He leaned over you and continued fucking you through your orgasm, holding you and groaning as he, too, released.

Jaemin stopped when he was done and spent. His arms buckled as they struggled to keep himself over you, and he could only pull out and collapse by your side. He muttered out a few curses, struggling to find the right words to say as he stared up at the ceiling. That felt good? No, too dry. I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like that? No, too possessive.

He settled with “you’re amazing” as his chest rose and fell in tune with yours.

“Likewise,” you breathed out and looked over at him. “I have to go home soon.”

Jaemin didn’t know what came over him, but he rolled over and wrapped his arms around you tightly. Normally, he wasn’t one for cuddling or aftercare, but he didn’t want you to go so soon. You relaxed under his touch as Jaemin drew you closer to his body, pulling the sheets over you both.

“Don’t go,” Jaemin whispered, tucking some hair behind your ear.

You turned to look at him, running your finger along his cheek tenderly. “Jaehyun’s gonna ask.”

Jaemin threw the sheets off of you and stood up quickly. “Have a safe trip back.”

It was the very next day when Jaemin hooked up with you again.

You had sent him a rather suggestive text, stating that you found it strenuous to walk after the previous night. In some sick and twisted way, Jaemin found this extremely hot and invited you over that night. Needless to say, you found it even more difficult to walk afterward.

The next day was the last day of the long weekend, so you spent nearly the entire day at Jaemin’s place before Jeno came home. Sure, you had sex once or twice then, but Jaemin really liked having you around. Even when you both weren’t exactly doing anything, your mere presence was comforting to him. In past hookups with other girls, he would always just get up and leave after the deed was done. However, with you, he was suddenly a sucker for aftercare.

Jaemin still felt like shit for going behind Jaehyun’s back and he was starting to question his stealth when Jeno came back home and discovered your bra on the couch.

“Oh, that’s where it was,” Jaemin said blankly, taking the bra from Jeno. “By the way, how was visiting your family?”

Jeno was still stuck on the bra, however. “Hold on,” he started, “whose bra is that?”

“Mine.”

“You wear bras?”

“What? No.” Jaemin made a face. “The fuck?”

“Na Jaemin, did you sleep with a random girl on our couch?”

“First of all, it wasn’t a random girl. It was Y/N,” Jaemin defended. “And secondly, we did it against the wall, actually. The couch was just a poor observer.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or disgusted,” Jeno replied, pondering over his best friend’s words. He glanced back at the wall and inched away from it. “Did you figure out what you’re going to do about Jaehyun?”

Jaemin grinned sheepishly. “I mean, what Jaehyun doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

“What happened to the Jaemin who was trying to ghost his sister?”

“He got laid.”

“This is so gonna backfire on you,” Jeno replied, shaking his head. “But I kind of want to watch it happen.”

“Dude,” Jaemin whined, rubbing his chin with his hand. “I broke the bro code so hard, but honestly, the sex is too good.”

“Jaemin, I don’t want to hear about your sexcapades, thanks.”

The next time Jaemin hooked up with you was almost an absolute disaster.

Keyword: almost.

“Jeno,” Jaemin warbled in a desperate cry, “I’m fucked. I’m absolutely fucked.”

“What’s up?” came the disinterested voice of his best friend who was sprawled out on the couch, flipping listlessly through a textbook.

“I need you to help me out,” Jaemin begged. “Y/N wants me to go over to her place but Jaehyun’s home.”

That was how Jaemin ended up behind your house, trying to hoist himself up onto a tree that was close to your window. Jeno was on the phone, keeping a lookout from his car that was parked on the street. This was, quite honestly, probably one of the stupidest things Jaemin had ever done because not only did he have a fear of heights, but he was risking his life just for his friend not to see him walking in the house.

There was something about hanging onto the branch of a tree for dear life that made a man question his pride.

“All this for some pussy,” Jeno tutted through his AirPods.

“Shut up, Jeno,” Jaemin muttered, a flush of heat rising to his cheeks. Truth be told, he just really wanted to see you, not that he would admit that.

He hauled himself onto one of the thicker branches that led to your window and inched his way along it to reach the windowsill. A frown crossed his lips as he reached out to knock on the glass. You told him you’d keep the window open for him, so why was it closed?

The answer was obvious, but it didn’t sink in until Jaehyun opened the window to see Jaemin dangling from a tree branch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, was all that was running through his mind. His head felt like it was going a thousand miles per second but the rest of his body was short-circuiting.

“Jaemin, what are you doing outside my window?” Jaehyun asked, looking absolutely perturbed.

“I’m, uh…” Jaemin paused to think while he could hear Jeno laughing at him through his AirPods. “Jeno and I wanted to prank you.”

“Jeno? Prank?” Jaehyun questioned. “Are you not here for a study session with Y/N?”

Jaemin stilled. He wasn’t sure he had any classes with you, but surely you must have made up this excuse to Jaehyun so that Jaemin could be in your house freely. Jeno’s laughing intensified as Jaemin blinked at his team captain.

“Right, well—”

“Jaemin, what are you doing there?” your sweet, innocent voice rang from Jaehyun’s door.

There was a mischievous glint in your eyes despite how concerned you tried to look. Jaemin saw right through you, though, and grimaced.

“Just… hanging out,” Jaemin grunted out as he tried to crawl in through Jaehyun’s window.

Jaehyun reached his hand out to help Jaemin and dragged him through the window with ease, so smooth that Jaemin pretended he didn’t hit his head against the side of the frame of the window as he was pulled inside. The tree branch bounced back to its original position, its leaves rustling wildly once Jaemin’s weight was off of them. Jaehyun helped Jaemin dust himself off and grabbed one of his shoulders firmly, using his free hand to pat his back.

“Jaemin,” Jaehyun said slowly, “use the door next time.”

“Got it,” Jaemin croaked out.

“We can go to my room and study, Jaemin,” you piped up, turning on your heel to head back to your room as soon as you were sure you had his attention.

“Right, um… see you, man,” Jaemin told Jaehyun, awkwardly following after you after Jaehyun returned the goodbye.

Jaemin had been to Jaehyun’s house for parties, but being there in the daytime was unnerving. He ended the call with Jeno, quickly texting him that he was safe before stuffing his phone and AirPods in his pockets. Jaemin turned the corner to see you sitting cross-legged on the floor of your room. A loud sigh escaped his lips before he made his way in, closing the door behind him.

“You’re paying for that,” he warned.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, a laugh falling from your lips just before Jaemin strode over, pushing you down onto the floor and hovering over you. You parted your lips to speak but whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as Jaemin swooped in and kissed you.

This is a terrible place to be doing this, the rational side of Jaemin’s brain provided, but then he was kissing you and it didn’t matter anymore.

Jaemin lost himself in the kiss as soon as he was tasting your fruity chapstick. He cupped your jaw, intoxicated by the way your lips felt against his. He was so dazed that he hardly noticed you unzipping his pants, tugging them down by his belt loops.

“Aren’t we studying?” Jaemin teased, brushing his nose against yours. He glanced over at the mess of books and papers at your table.

“Mm, do you want to study instead?” you asked, drawing him closer to you. “Pass up on this and read up on some cell division?”

“Fuck no.” Jaemin scoffed, dragging his nails up your thigh. “Spread those legs for me, angel.”

A mewl escaped your lips when you spread your legs because Jaemin immediately started palming your apex without missing a beat. The burst of pride that followed made him a little braver, a little less worrisome over your older brother.

“Take off your pants,” you breathed out, tugging once more at his waistband.

“No.” Jaemin moved off of you and hauled himself up to sit on your bed. “I want you to ride my thigh.” His eyes practically devoured the way you looked. “And keep the skirt on.”

You stood up, biting your lip as you moved to straddle his right thigh. Jaemin’s hands ran up and down your thighs, moving up to your hips eventually to rub slow circles with his thumb. His lips were attached to your neck almost immediately, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column.

You let a whimper slip from your lips and Jaemin started bouncing his leg steadily, his muscular thigh rubbing against your clit. He guided your movements with his hands as you rolled your hips against him. Jaemin flexed his thigh every once in a while and made sure to pull you down on him whenever he could make use of the friction.

Another moan from you and Jaemin sneered. “You’re getting off so well on my thigh, Y/N. Such a fucking tease but you react so easily.” You whined again and Jaemin shushed you. “Be quiet, princess. We don’t want to be walked in on, right?”

And, because the world hated Jaemin, Jaehyun decided to walk in.

“Y/N, can I come in for a second?” he called from outside the door.

In an instant, you practically flew off of Jaemin’s lap, scrambling back to your table and burying your nose in your biology textbook. There were a few long seconds of Jaemin silently communicating with you out of frustration. You had escaped just fine, but Jaemin just had to get a hard-on, and now that you were off his lap, it was far too obvious through his pants.

But you already told Jaehyun he could come in, so Jaemin put both hands over his crotch in a valiant (but stupid) effort to hide his boner while the door opened.

“I’m going to the store,” Jaehyun said, looking between you and Jaemin from the doorway. “Want anything?”

“No, we’re good,” you replied, but Jaehyun’s eyes were fixed on Jaemin, narrowing slightly.

“I’ll get going then, but are you good?” Jaehyun asked, gesturing at the awkward position Jaemin was in. “The bathroom’s across the hall if you need to go.”

Jaemin’s eyes flitted to yours to see an amused look on your face, and he could practically hear your voice bouncing in his skull: This is fun.

This wasn’t exactly Jaemin’s textbook dictionary definition of fun, however.

“Thanks,” Jaemin croaked out, looking down at his lap in shame. A flush of red crossed his cheeks and you barked out a laugh as soon as Jaehyun was gone. “Not funny,” he grumbled out.

An impish grin crossed your face as you asked, “Need me to take care of your problem?”

“Please,” Jaemin almost begged.

The moment you stood up, Jaemin was quickly trying to tug his pants down, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his boxers to take them off with his pants. This was awful in the absolutely best way possible because Jaemin’s hands felt clammy but then you were kneeling down in front of him, helping him take his pants off. You looked up at Jaemin when his hard cock curved up against his stomach. A breath escaped his lips like it had been punched out of him and he wondered if his eyes were as comically wide as they felt.

When the sound of Jaehyun closing the front door echoed, you grasped Jaemin’s painfully hard cock in your soft hands. Jaemin’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He couldn’t even ask you to do anything with all his bravado from earlier suddenly vanishing. So, he curled a hand in your hair, more for his own leverage.

Jaemin’s stomach rearranged itself to feel like some crazed etch-a-sketch rather than the human anatomy when he felt your lips wrap around his cock.

“Shit, that’s it,” he growled when you went down on him. He flushed all over, clear in the way his cock twitched in your mouth, and it made him feel like some silly, lovesick teenager. “Oh god, you feel so good with your mouth wrapped around my cock, princess.”

A sound of approval came from your throat, vibrating against the throbbing vein along Jaemin’s shaft and making him go crazy. You bobbed your head up and down, teasing him by going so slow to the point that it was nearly unbearable for Jaemin. He felt like a coil of fire was tightly woven inside him, ready to snap at any given moment.

“Fuck… don’t tease me—wait, are you asleep?”

Jaemin looked down to see you half-asleep on his cock, lips brushing against the vein along the side. Your eyes weren’t hooded but fluttered shut, head lolling to the side and your tongue grazing the underside of his head. A hiss escaped Jaemin’s lips at your teasing, but he felt more incredulous than turned on.

“I’m tired,” you said, “and you didn’t finish me off, so why should I finish you off?”

“Well, this is just unfair,” Jaemin replied with a frustrated huff as you pulled off of him. His gaze softened when he saw you rub your eyes, though. He fumbled for a moment, pulling his boxers and pants back up and tucking away the frustration of not getting his release. “You’re actually tired?”

“Kind of,” you admitted. “I’ve been studying my ass off all week for midterms.”

“Okay, well…” Jaemin faltered before scooting back on your bed until he was against the wall. “Let’s take a nap then.”

“Nap? Oh, so we—oh, okay,” you mumbled and Jaemin’s heart skipped a few beats when he saw you suck in your lower lip nervously.

You crawled into your bed and laid down, pulling the covers over them after Jaemin moved so he was right next to you. Jaemin had never exactly slept with a girl like this, but with you, his chest felt warm. It felt right. Without a word, he pulled you to his chest so you wouldn’t have to see how nervous you were making him feel, praying you couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled to him.

And, because Jaemin was a loser who feared rejection and the reality that he was an actual human who felt real emotions, he pressed his lips to your head and whispered into your hair, “I like you.”

If you heard him or noticed, Jaemin wouldn’t have known because falling asleep was so much easier with you in his arms.

“You slept with her? Like, without sex?” Jeno asked Jaemin that night, to which he nodded. “You didn’t hook up with her at all?”

“Jaehyun walked in the first time and the second time… let’s not get into that,” Jaemin replied. “The point is, we fucking cuddled, Jeno.”

“That’s kinda weird.”

“Right?” Jaemin tugged a hand through his hair, letting out an aggravated groan. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to Jaehyun’s place on Friday.”

Parties were one thing, but at least once a month, the basketball team would hold bonding events for everyone to unwind and chill. Jaemin usually attended every event since he was close with all of the members, but Jaehyun’s house became dangerous territory now because of you. However, Jaemin was expected to take the place of team captain when Jaehyun graduated, so he knew it would be bad if he didn’t attend all the socials the basketball team held.

“Why? Can’t keep it in your pants?” Jeno teased.

Jaemin threw a pillow at him. “Fuck off.”

“It’s been postponed to the end of the month, anyway,” Jeno assured. “Jaehyun said he had a date this Friday or something.”

“Then I’m safe for now.”

It got silent for a moment before Jeno asked, “Are you catching feelings?”

Silence.

Did Jaemin like you? Sure, he mumbled it for himself to hear when he was holding you, which was pretty suspicious of him to do that if he didn’t actually have any feelings toward you. He perfectly understood the feeling at an intellectual level, but absorbing it emotionally was beyond his realm of understanding. Plus, there was no point in having feelings for someone if they didn’t reciprocate.

Right?

Jaemin only had a few crushes before, and the feelings were so surface-level that he started to wonder how many aspects of life he had missed out on because of his inability to grow close to people. That was why he had confined himself to the hookup culture because the “no strings attached” aspect was so appealing to him, but now it was backfiring because of you. It was so fucked up because Jaemin didn’t even want to fuck around with you anymore. Scratch that. He did, but he also wanted to hold your hand, go on dates, and kiss you until your fruity chapstick made him dizzy again.

You were great in bed, but what got Jaemin’s heart racing was the way you laughed when he made a lame joke and you couldn’t get over how terrible it was; the way you told stories with your hands, and your face would light up because you would get so excited; the way the food you made looked absolutely nauseating but, for whatever reason, it tasted amazing, and Jaemin could go on, but he was afraid he’d start melting in front of Jeno.

“No way,” Jaemin lied. “It’s just for the sex, that’s all.”

It wasn’t fair that you always showed up at the one place Jaemin was most vulnerable: basketball practice.

Truth be told, you were causing Jaemin problems well before you even arrived. Hell, you had been causing problems for the past three weeks. Not that Jaemin hated it, but he couldn’t keep it in his pants every time you dragged him to a blind spot or invited him to your place. There were also times where Jaemin would just simply walk with you, or talk about your day in bed, or just hold your hand and stroke your hair until you fell asleep.

Pretty weird for fuckbuddies.

Earlier in the day, Jaemin had run into you while he was walking to his biology lecture, and after some light conversation, he had you pinned up against the back of a building. He ended up getting a very noticeable hickey on his neck from you that he didn’t know existed until Jaehyun pointed it out during practice.

“Jaemin.” Jaehyun let out a low whistle and gestured to his neck. “Finally got over your weird celibacy phase?”

“What are you—”

“Nice hickey,” Yuta complimented while he was passing by, “finally got laid, huh?”

Only then did Jaemin realize that you had marked up his neck, and did so proudly. You knew people would see but you still went ahead and did it. Jaemin would’ve been mad but somehow, the thought of showing off something you caused turned him on.

Thankfully, you showed up when practice had ended and the others were heading into the locker room, all sweaty and tired. Absorbed in their own conversations, the rest of Jaemin’s teammates were focused on talking about their last play and looking forward to a cold shower. Jaemin, however, did a double-take when he saw you, nudging Jeno to keep going while he stayed back.

You really had no good reason coming to the basketball courts. It wasn’t like you or your big brother actually wanted to walk home together.

“I’m starting to think you come here to see me,” Jaemin said smugly, making his way over to you.

“Not even,” you replied, although your fazed look said otherwise. “But I appreciate the eye candy.”

Jaemin reached out to take your hands in his and pulled you toward him. You looked down at your feet, right foot circling around one of the stray basketballs that had been left behind during practice. Jaemin, however, had his eyes focused on you. He couldn’t get tired of looking at you, especially when you were wearing that cozy purple sweater that made him want to pull you into his arms.

Jaemin noticed your foot on the basketball and held your hands a little tighter as you put your weight on it to get your other foot on. You were shakily balancing on it, grabbing Jaemin’s hands tightly as a grin slowly spread across your face.

You’re too cute, was what Jaemin wanted to say.

“You’re still shorter than me even when you’re standing on a basketball,” he teased instead, one hand slipping around your waist to keep you steady.

You pouted. “I’m basically the same height as you now.”

“Really?” Jaemin smirked at your expression, moving closer so that his lips were at your forehead. He moved his hands so they were both holding your waist, keeping you planted on the basketball. “I think I still have an inch or two on you.”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, but Jaemin was tilting your chin up and smiling at how you were visibly growing shy. “Jaemin, my brother might walk out any second.”

“Fuck your brother,” Jaemin murmured and kissed you.

People threw around the term “time slowed down” so casually, that Jaemin believed it was a silly hoax; however, he was starting to understand it. Each kiss he shared with you before felt so rushed, but now, everything around him didn’t matter anymore. It was like every fear, every concern he had was lost as he was lost in the taste of your lips.

Your hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss and making Jaemin nearly forget that you were barely balancing on a basketball. He tightened his hold around you when you pulled a hand away to run through his hair and god, he relished that feeling. When he desperately needed air again, Jaemin pulled away, nipping at your bottom lip cheekily as he did so.

He didn’t want to see your reaction, though, so he pulled you down from the basketball and hugged you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You were visually overwhelming, anyway, and Jaemin wasn’t too keen on seeing your reaction to his tenderness. Jaemin felt like such a melt for being this affected over a simple kiss, but all he wanted at the moment was to be closer to you.

“Jaemin?” you asked, shocked by his sudden intimacy.

“Shut up,” he murmured into your neck, “I just want to hold you right now.”

“Bruh.”

Jaemin didn’t process the fact that a third person was in the gym until it registered that the masculine voice couldn’t have been coming from you. On the bright side, the voice came from the one person who knew about whatever was going on between you and Jaemin. He then wondered why he was starting to become an optimist.

You and Jaemin both pulled away quickly like repelling magnets. There was a flicker of panic in your eyes, seeming to cool down when you noticed that Jaemin wasn’t freaking out. It was quite devastating for Jaemin to come to realize that he was the standard for what to worry over.

Jaemin, not sparing you a glance, walked over to where his best friend was standing and shoved him, not straying from his direct route to the locker room.

“You have some explaining to do,” Jeno muttered before Jaemin passed him.

“Fuck off, Jeno.”

Jeno flashed a sheepish grin at you before turning back to follow Jaemin, patting him firmly on the back to tease him. Jaemin, however, was unsettled. Whatever he felt for you was moving past sexual attraction to something much deeper, and he wasn’t sure if he could suppress it any longer.

You truly were the cat, and although Jaemin refused to believe it, you had already caught him.

Jeno somehow managed to stay quiet about what had happened between you and Jaemin until after they reached their apartment. Jaemin almost believed he was going to pretend like he didn’t see anything, but it would be laughable to think that Lee Jeno wouldn’t mock him about it.

“That’s the thing with fuckbuddies,” Jeno explained as he shrugged off his coat, “someone’s gonna catch feelings eventually.”

“Thanks, Jeno,” Jaemin spat, tone laced with sarcasm. “You never cease to make me feel like shit.”

“So you admit that you caught feelings?”

It was like an arrow through a bullseye, not that Jaemin was going to admit to that, but the thought of him potentially catching feelings for you was terrifying. It was even more frightening because he probably already did. This was supposed to be the time where Jaemin blanched and would become shockingly avoidant around you, but he was waiting for those instincts to kick in rather than the desperate urge to run over and kiss you.

But, moreover, screw Lee Jeno for majoring in neuroscience. His best friend studying the human brain and its cognition was the worst thing that could have ever happened to Jaemin.

Jaemin paused, hesitating before he spoke, “No… I’m just worried that one of us will.”

Jeno raised a brow at him. “Whatever you two were doing was not normal for fuckbuddies.”

“It’s called hugging, Jeno. It’s not my fault you have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

Jaemin moved to sit on the couch, turning his back to Jeno and hugging a pillow as he shrunk back into the cushion. But Jeno knew that Jaemin always listened to what he had to say. It was a natural instinct by now. Although Jaemin would rather die than say it aloud, his best friend always gave the best advice even though it was probably not what Jaemin wanted to hear.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked instead.

Jaemin froze. He was never any good at expressing himself. He presented himself as a simple man on the outside, but he was really just layers of multitudes. But, sometimes, your mere attention was like uncut cocaine to him, and then Jaemin would wonder if he really was simple.

“I’m fine,” Jaemin muttered back.

“You’re good at being fine, aren’t you?”

Jeno fastidiously fixed his hair before he retreated to his room. Jaemin was surprised by how he cut the advice session this time and left Jaemin to his own thoughts.

Exhausted, Jaemin stared at his lock screen. It was a picture of you and him at a park. Ducks in the pond. You caught off-guard with hair in your mouth. Jaemin with a smile brighter than the sun. Who the fuck took selfies with girls they fucked on the down-low? And who the fuck set them as their wallpapers? Apparently, Jaemin did.

He was sick.

Maybe Jeno was right, but Jaemin refused to accept that possibility because that would make him even more disgusted with himself.

He could only think of one thing and it was how he was in love with you.

Sex was one thing, but love? The number one rule of best friendship was probably don’t fucking fall in love with your best friend’s sister.

Furthermore, Jaemin didn’t know how to act around you now. In the conspectus of Things That Could Go Wrong in his brain, he hadn’t anticipated actually falling for you. He should’ve taken your godsent looks and heavenly laugh as a red flag that first night because now he was addicted.

It wasn’t like Jaemin had absolutely zero experience with girls, but usually, he just went with it. Being the one chasing after you was mentally taxing and the thought of you possibly not wanting him back was unthinkable. Then again, it was pretty clear that it was mutual between the two of you, but Jaemin was confident that you were a breath away from snapping at him for his inconsistency.

He was the one that pushed you away, after all. A sudden transition from resisting to wanting you completely was sure to freak you out, so Jaemin was stuck at a crossroads.

After a few Google searches of asking the internet if he caught feelings and an episode of self-denial and self-loathing, Jaemin decided it was high time for him to call you and tell you how he felt. That, or he was going to panic and break things off before he got emotionally invested.

Before he could do either, Jeno walked back to the living room, putting his coat back on. He looked dressed up as if he was going out somewhere, and Jaemin’s suspicions were confirmed when he went to get his shoes.

“What’re you all dressed up for?” Jaemin asked, sitting up straight again.

“Jaehyun’s house.” Jeno raised a brow at him. “It’s Friday.”

God, if you’re out there, Jaemin thought, defeated. Screw you and your son. Amen.

Jaemin had to psych himself into the proper state of mind for tonight.

That all went to shit, however, when he saw you sitting in the living room, laughing at something Yuta had said.

“Oh my god,” Jeno said in a low voice when he saw Jaemin frozen in the doorway. “Tell me you’re not jealous right now.”

“Piss off,” Jaemin spat, kicking off his shoes at the entrance. “It’s nothing like that.”

Except that it was exactly like that. Jaemin wasn’t the jealous type, but right now, his blood was roiling in his gut. Deep inside, he knew it was probably nothing to worry about, but the way you smiled around Yuta was pissing him off. Then, he realized that he had no relationship with you that gave him any right to stop Yuta from flirting with you.

And then, you turned to see Jaemin in the doorway and smiled at him.

Oh no, Jaemin thought in complete devastation. She’s pretty.

“Y/N, tonight’s for the basketball team,” Jaehyun told you from the living room, making a motion with his hands to signal you to leave. “Go to your room.”

“You’re such a nosy older brother,” YangYang chimed in, nudging a chuckle out of Jaehyun. “But yeah, Y/N, Friday nights are for the boys.”

“I know, I know,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll go now. I was just grabbing some water.”

Jaemin was still frozen stiff at the doorway as you grabbed a half-empty bottle of water from the kitchen counter (despite Jeno’s several attempts to get him to move) and then walked to the staircase to Jaemin’s left. But then you grabbed Jaemin by the front of his shirt and started dragging him upstairs with you. He barely registered it all happening in the span of a few seconds, but he was able to catch Jeno saying he’d tell the others that Jaemin was running late.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Jaemin whispered harshly, although he still followed you into your room and let you lock the door.

This was far too risky. Not only was Jaehyun home, but the entire basketball team was downstairs.

You started tying your hair up and Jaemin gulped, realizing where this was going. “Do you want me to suck you off or not?” you asked, smiling.

“Say no more,” Jaemin breathed out, unzipping his pants hastily.

He sat down on your bed, letting you tug his boxers down, your eyes full of mirth. Jaemin felt so pathetic when his cock twitched as soon as you wrapped a hand around its girth, but he was ready to put his pride to the side for once.

Jaemin was about to rasp out something but then you took his head in your mouth and a sudden wave of heat punched him in the gut. But then you pulled away, lips against the underside of his head, and Jaemin was a second away from just crying.

“You have nice hands,” you complimented with a mischievous smile as Jaemin held the back of your head eagerly. He felt like he was going crazy with the way you were mouthing your words against his cock.

“You have nice lips,” he returned through gritted teeth. “But please shut the fuck up and get to it already.”

Your lips curled slowly. “So impatient,” you cooed, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. Jaemin bucked his hips forward, trying to chase the sensation, but you were teasing him.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.”

You smirked up at him, moving your head to lick against the slit before taking his cock in your mouth again. A few laborious seconds passed with Jaemin biting his lip so that he didn’t make any noise, and then you finally started sucking him off. He fought the urge not to groan when your tongue rolled along the vein down his shaft.

You showed Jaemin no mercy, however. It was almost like you wanted everyone downstairs to hear. He gritted his teeth when your teeth grazed his cock, and he wanted more. He gripped your hair for anchorage and fucked into your mouth. The smallest whimper escaped you when Jaemin’s cock hit the back of your throat.

Jaemin let out a strangled groan. “I’m close.”

You took this as your cue to suck him off even harsher, and Jaemin was on the brink of sweet release. A tear escaped your eyes as he fucked into your throat, and Jaemin wiped it with his thumb, drinking in the wrecked sight of you that was bringing him over the edge. You let a broken moan vibrate against Jaemin’s shaft, and he was done for.

Jaemin couldn’t recall being able to cum this fast because of someone’s mouth before, but here he was, groaning as his hot seed shot down your throat. You obediently swallowed it, eyes hazy and tear-soaked from the size of him.

A few moments of silence passed before Jaemin leaned down and pecked your lips, heart fluttering a bit in his chest as he did so. “Good girl.”

He swore he saw you lifting a finger to scratch your cheek lightly, which was a nervous quirk of yours that Jaemin had picked up on, but you turned away quickly to fix your hair while Jaemin was pulling his pants back up. The tension that followed made Jaemin unsure of whether to leave or take you against the wall. He decided against the latter, knowing that Jeno couldn’t stall forever.

“Leaving already?” you asked, reaching for Jaemin’s hand, which he gladly entwined with yours.

“I’m already on thin ice,” Jaemin explained. “I have to go back down there and hope they don’t question me.” You moved closer to him, hands moving down to graze past his waistband. Jaemin hissed slightly under his breath and diverted by rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, so you and Yuta…”

“You’re still on that?” you asked, pulling your hands back. “I can’t laugh around another guy now?”

“No, no!” Jaemin groaned, tugging a hand through his hair out of frustration. “Nevermind, it’s nothing.”

“Is it not obvious, Jaemin?” you asked him, an edge of desperation to your voice. “You really can’t tell how I feel?”

Jaemin sighed, looking down at his feet. “You can’t tell how I feel either?”

“You—what?”

“We’ll talk later. I have to go.”

He turned to go back downstairs, but you grabbed his wrist, saying, “Jaemin, remember that you’re the one who didn’t want anything more out of this.”

Jaemin gave you a puzzled look but before he could ask for clarification, you had pulled away from him and gestured for him to leave. He mumbled a pathetic excuse, spitting out a string of words for a moment before he gave up and snuck downstairs as quietly as he could.

He hated that you were right. Even though you had suggested sneaking around, Jaemin was the one who tried to draw the boundary. He did this to himself.

“Yo, Jaemin,” Yuta called, “when did you get here?”

“Just now,” Jaemin answered, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked into the living room where all the basketball team members were sprawled over the couch. “What’re we watching?”

“Pulp Fiction,” Taeyong answered. “Can you get the ice cream from the kitchen?”

“Sure.” Jaemin opened Jaehyun’s freezer to see two tubs of ice cream nestled in the corner. While he was pondering over whether to grab chocolate or vanilla, he felt a presence behind him and looked over his shoulder. “Did you need—oh my god, go to your room,” he whispered harshly at the sight of you.

“Are you my mom?” You raised a brow at him and reached for an ice cream tub. “Let me help you open them.”

“Fine,” he mumbled, voice fracturing at the end. He watched you move to the kitchen’s island and, carefully eyeing his teammates in the living room, letting his hand graze your thigh and whispering, “Hey, I’m sorry for earlier.”

You stiffened at his touch. “It’s fine,” you whispered back, opening the tubs of ice cream. “You’ve just been acting weird lately.”

“Weird?” Jaemin asked as he opened his tub. The ice cream dripped off the lid and onto Jaemin’s finger. “Ugh. Do you have napkins?”

“You’re so messy, Jaemin.”

“Shut up.”

“Let me help,” you insisted, grabbing his wrist and taking his fingers in your mouth.

Jaemin’s eyes widened by a fraction as your hot tongue circled around his fingers. He fought down the urge to take it further and bit his lip as he watched you. Before he could do anything, however, an awkward laugh and wolf-whistle from the living room made him freeze.

Jaemin’s head shot up to see his teammates staring at him, shell-shocked. Some looked absolutely confused while others looked more proud and impressed. Jaemin wondered if you had no shame because, despite all the eyes on them, you didn’t let go of his hand, your pretty lips still wrapped around his fingers.

“I don’t know why she’s doing that,” Jaemin rambled quickly, and his tone was so frazzled that Jeno had to hide his laugh behind his fist. “Come on, Y/N,” he urged, voice dropping for you to hear. “Let go of my hand.”

It would have been sexy if Jaemin wasn’t absolutely terrified.

Only when Jaemin caught sight of Jaehyun’s expression did you let go, saying, “Thanks for the ice cream.” With a playful smile, you looked up at Jaemin expectantly.

“What the fuck did we just witness?” Jungwoo asked, lit up silly like he had just witnessed the biggest scandal.

“We’re friends,” Jaemin croaked out. “Right, Y/N? Jaehyun? Jeno?”

Jeno ducked his head and Jaemin could tell what exactly he was thinking: I can’t help you out of this one, Jaem.

Jaemin couldn’t exactly read Jaehyun’s expression. It was a mix of emotions so varied that they didn’t make sense to him. He couldn’t even pick out any distinguishable one, but maybe it was better he didn’t know what the captain was feeling.

“I swear, it's not what it looks like,” Jaemin defended.

“So Y/N wasn’t sucking on your fingers?” Taeyong asked, a ghost of a laugh on his lips.

“Okay, so it’s exactly what it looks like,” Jaemin muttered and pursed his lips together. “But it’s—it’s nothing,” he reasoned, and at this point, it seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than them.

Either way, it wasn’t working.

Who was he kidding, anyway? They weren’t stupid, and it was clear as day that Jaemin couldn’t get enough of you. For heaven's sake, he even got jealous over Yuta making you laugh. Before, one would have to pry open the cold, hard jaws of his corpse to get a word out about how he felt, but now Jaemin felt like you had broken down his last line of defense.

Jaemin could already see the consequences that would follow, but he still blurted out, “Fine. You got me. Jaehyun, I’m in love with your sister.”

Jaemin’s neurons were tearing themselves over the fact that Jaemin had just professed his love to you and was now experiencing a state of total humiliation. He was confident he wouldn’t ever live this moment down.

The room went silent. Not only were the boys shocked, but you were, too. Jaemin himself couldn’t believe he let that slip, but there was no going back now. Jeno sat there with his jaw hung open and Jaemin couldn’t blame him. He didn’t even know he was going to drop the love bomb like that out of nowhere. Taeyong looked like he had just witnessed a murder as his eyes kept darting between Jaemin and Jaehyun, Jungwoo looked a little too proud, and Yuta was just washed over with realization.

“Oh.” Jaehyun blinked. “Cool, I guess. Does that mean you’re not joining us for movie night then?”

Jaemin wasn’t sure how obvious the shock showed on his face, but this felt too easy. For a little over a month, Jaemin had been skirting around his relationship with you because of your big brother, and now he was acting scarily nonchalant.

“You’re not mad?” Jaemin asked, wide-eyed.

Jaehyun laughed. “I mean, it’s kinda weird that you’re dating my little sister, but why would I be mad?”

“Maybe it’s because you said ‘if anyone lays a hand on my little sister, then I will make sure you look uglier than you already are,’” Yuta reminded him with Jaemin nodding along at his words. “And that was verbatim.”

“That’s for people hitting on my sister to get laid, not people dating my sister,” Jaehyun corrected. “I don’t control her decisions.”

Jaemin smiled through the internal pain of realizing he did exactly that. If Jaehyun found out he wasn’t dating you, then Jaemin was in for an earful. Thankfully, you were too dazed over Jaemin’s earlier confession to decide to start shit.

“Plus,” Jaehyun continued, “I knew you guys had a thing.”

“What?” Jaemin spluttered, blinking wildly. His tongue was performing acrobatics to formulate words but it wasn’t working.

“I had a suspicion when you climbed up my tree to get into the house,” Jaehyun said. “When I walked into the room later, that just confirmed my suspicions because, you know…”

Jaemin’s cheeks went hot when he realized that Jaehyun had probably caught onto the fact that he had a boner back then. Without a word, you rushed out of the kitchen, gaze averted which was what Jaemin supposed was embarrassment. Jaemin heard the front door open and close. He turned to follow after you, but swallowed thickly and froze in place.

“Go, Jaemin,” Jeno urged him, a tone of seriousness taking over.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” YangYang said cooly. “It’s just movie night.”

Jaemin clenched his jaw and nodded, thinking about how shitty it would be if he did all of that just to be rejected. Jaehyun’s house was a warzone and he knew better than to come tonight, but he still did, and he still fucked everything up. If things went wrong with you—

“Jaemin,” Jaehyun cut into his thoughts, “just so you know, I’m cool with you dating my sister.”

It was funny how a few words could make someone’s day, but Jaemin was surprised at the weight those words took off of his shoulders. He contained the joy to a half-smile and left the kitchen and walked out of your house to find you.

You hadn’t gone far at all. You were pacing along the sidewalk looking frazzled, hands lacing together and eyes cast down. Jaemin walked over to you and tried to take your hand but you pulled away.

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked, overcome with raw emotion.

“Yeah,” Jaemin replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know I’m the one who didn’t want to start anything, and I lied about not wanting anything, but… this is how I feel, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I’m not exactly expressive if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed,” you replied incredulously, lower lip starting to quiver. “I just—I don’t know—I thought I was just going to be an afterthought to you.”

Jaemin froze when he saw tears start to gloss your eyes. He never knew how to deal with people crying, especially when they were girls. He took your face in his hands and wiped your stray tears away with his thumbs, sighing softly.

“Let’s go to my place.”

“What? Why?”

“I need to show you how much I love you,” he replied firmly, taking your hand in his and walking in the direction of his apartment. “It’s kind of funny that you thought that because you’ve been all I could think about for the past month.”

More tears were starting to well up in your eyes, but you blinked them away.

Stay calm, Jaemin’s brain instructed him. Cupid can sense your fear.

“I love you,” he continued. “Should I say it again? I love you, I love you, I love—”

“Alright, Jaemin!” Your face beamed like a Christmas tree but you were still a flustered mess. “God, stop looking at me like that.”

“No,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I’m going to keep saying it because I don’t think you get it.”

“Jaemin, we’re in the middle of the sidewalk,” you squeaked out as he kissed your cheek.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss.

“J-Jaemin, I get it,” you whined out, scrunching your nose up at his affection. Jaemin continued, though, and you happened to reach your limit. You gripped his shoulders and held him away from you. “God, Jaemin, I love you, okay? You have to give me a chance to say it back at least.”

This time, Jaemin was the one to get shy. “Huh? You like me back?”

“Jaemin, you idiot, you’re so slow,” you mused, “I’ve liked you this entire time.”

He took your hand, his gaze never leaving yours, and rubbed your palm in circles with his thumb. “I know I’ve been a dick… on multiple occasions,” he admitted, “but I want to be with you.”

“Jaemin—”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.

Jaemin wondered how many seconds passed after, but it felt like centuries to him. He didn’t budge, however, because he wanted you more than ever.

“Yes,” you finally confessed, which, in essence, was a fever dream in itself.

Jaemin expected his reaction to be different, but instead, his eyes wandered off, lost in thought. He looked toward the moon overlooking that hill where he nearly hooked up with you on the night of the party. That felt like eons ago despite being not that long ago, but it carried a comforting wave of nostalgia.

“You know, on second thought, we’re gonna stargaze.”

You looked at Jaemin like he was some undiscovered specimen, but you still followed him. He laid on his back, scrunching up his nose when the grass tickled his face, and he held his hand out to you. You took it, crouching down to lay down next to him. This time, Jaemin spread his arm out so that you could lay against his chest.

You cuddled up against his chest and Jaemin thought he could die a happy man.

He looked over at you, heart hammering against his ribcage like he was hopped up on ten energy drinks. The glow of the moon illuminated the gentle curves of your face and Jaemin didn’t realize he was kissing you until he realized he had tilted your face toward him and cupped your soft cheek. His whole body felt fuzzy when your hands rested on his chest, when he could taste your fruity chapstick.

It was kind of embarrassing how nervous Jaemin was getting. His hands were starting to sweat and he was feeling kiss-dazed, smiling like an idiot because your soft lips were everything. When he pulled away, he pecked your lips one last time, his eyes unable to leave your face.

He threw his pride to the wind and confessed, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your expression was priceless. Jaemin indulged in watching you become a stuttering, faltering mess in front of him, struggling for words that could come out coherently.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t call anyone beautiful over your dead body,” you managed.

“Well, you’re not anyone, are you?” Jaemin raised a brow “You’re Y/N.”

“You’re such a smooth talker sometimes,” you acknowledged, “you know, when you’re not completely malfunctioning.”

“Shh.” Jaemin pulled you closer. “Let me enjoy this.”

“Fine, but you’re making it up to me later for playing cat and mouse for a month.”

Jaemin scoffed. “Please, I was the mouse most of the time.”

A bubble of a laugh escaped your lips and you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend. “I’m really happy, you know?” you mumbled into his chest.

Jaemin kissed the top of your head, whispering a “yeah” into your hair. Maybe one day he’d admit that he was just as over-the-moon as you were, and maybe it would be coerced out of him hours later, but right now, under the starry night sky, he could only think about how lucky he was. It was funny, though, because now he could see the stars.

And they were so beautiful.

10K notes · View notes

starsscribble · 3 years ago

Text

Stick Shift

Summary: Rick thinks he freeing Y/n. Y/n thinks she's the problem.

Tags: Angst, No comfort, Age Difference, Reader is 25 Rick is in in 40.

A/n: This was when I was on my Walking Dead kick. Finally got it edited.

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

You pulled into the post-apocalyptic suburbs; in a separate car than what Glenn and you left in. Your earlier pride of find and driving said care was gone. Now in it place was a numb type of sadness. It was stupid. You know that. Getting worked up over the fact you were driving a stick shift. All on your own. But Rick. Your boyfriend; ex-boyfriend now. He had been the one to teach you how to drive a stick shift. Before Virginia. When the group was still in the prison. When you were both still happy.

“Come on,” his southern drawl was clear as day. You let out a puff of air. Head pushing against the headrest. “This was your idea. You gotta confess something.” You started to hate that you suggested this game, but the drive was so damn long. You didn’t have the radio to help distract you. No, it was just you, Rick, and a long stretch of Georgia backroad. The former sheriff’s right hand shifted off the steering wheel. Moving carefully as not to catch your attention. You were still racking your brain for a secret to tell. Then a yelp left your mouth. You jumped in your seat making the older man laugh. Hand retreated to the wheel.

“That’s what you get for taking so long pumpkin.” He grinned; eyes shifted from the road onto you. A hint of playfulness in those ocean blue eyes.

“I was thinking of something!” You shot back making him chuckle before looking back to the road.

“There’s gotta be something you have never told anyone.”

“Well,” you hummed. Readjusting in your seat. “I don’t know if this would count because I’ve never told this to anyone in the group.”

“I’ll count it.” He glances at you quickly, still smiling. Which makes you smile.

“Alright. I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.” You feel the jerk was the car spot. Rick looked at you as if you just told him the undead are all gone. Eye full of disbelief.

“You’re joking.” He speaks after a beat and you shake your head. Nope, you couldn’t drive a stick to save your life. And with how the world was it just might. Rick took off his seatbelt as you questioned just what he was doing. “I’m gonna teach you how to drive stick. You might need it.”

“We are on a run.”

“Yep and this is the perfect time. Now get into the driver’s seat.”

Slowly you parked next to Glenn. Killing the engine you got out as Glenn moved over to your vehicle. He smiled at you. Today was a good day. Got more food, medicine, and another car. The possibilities for cars were endless. Used for parts. Set up at protection. Used as traps. Daryl Dixon the town resident mechanic would have a field day with this car.

“I’m gonna check in with Rick,” Glenn says. You see him playing with his wedding band. Maggie’s baby bump had started to show and Glenn didn’t like being away for too long. Patting his shoulder you speak.

“Go see Maggie and your baby.” You slammed the driver’s side door shut. The dark-haired man stares at you. Willing to argue with you on this.

“Really it’s-” You raised your hand stopping him.

“If you don’t go check up on Maggie. I will and I’ll tell her how you screamed like a girl.” His eyes widen at the threat.

“I didn’t know a group of bats would be in there!” He defended himself only making you grin at him. You both head away from the parking area. Back towards the stretch of cookie-cutter homes. You nudge his shoulder with yours.

“First it’s a colony of bats. Second, not only was the scream funny, so was your face.” You teased him. Glenn shoved your shoulder playfully. Before mumbling that he was going to check in with his wife. Leaving you with the task of checking in with the community’s newly appointed leader Rick.

Jogging onto his porch you knocked on the door. Eyes looking everywhere but the door until it opened. Sadly it wasn’t the male you were looking for. Carl greeted you with a soft smile. The bandages that once covered his right eye socket had been replaced with a custom-made eyepatch.

“Ahoy captain.” You tease the teenager who rolled his remaining eye. “Your dad here? Just checking in since Glenn and I got back.”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him since this morning.” Carl tells you, making you nodded. “When I see him…” He trails off because he knows you will just hunt his dad down. “I don’t know where he is.” He's lying. You know it. He knows that you know. But you just nod and quickly thank him. Tell him to kiss his sister for you before turning off the porch.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

You know where Rick Grimes is. Feet carrying you down the still blood-stained street. Streets that just weeks ago were covered with the undead. You wave kindly to the people passing by. It is a mix of your group, older residents, and new people. You still feel out of place. Maybe you always will. Maybe you won't. You wonder quietly to yourself. A nice distraction. Because if you thought about where you were going. Where you had to go. You might just break. So you let your mind wander. Let your feet carry you to the destination. Everything seemed to be on autopilot. Until your using the knocker of the baby blue house. Her house.

“We should end this,” Rick says matter-of-factly. You stopped brushing your hair to look at him. He’s not facing you. Back facing you as he pulled his jeans on.

“What?” Maybe you misheard him. Maybe it was your ear playing a trick on you. Because Rick couldn’t be breaking up with you right now.

“We should break up.” He rephrases. The words take the air from your lungs. Your mouth opened to say words that your mind can’t even come up with. The silence in the room grew by the seconds. It finally became too much for the man as he turned to face you. Jeans zipped up but not buttoned. Belt lay next to his shirt on the bed but his eyes fell on you instead.

“Say something.” He requested of you softly. That same soft voice that he used when he said he loved you. Tears that formed in your eyes finally fell as you blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Before you looked him in the eyes.

“Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” Getting shot was nothing compared to your question to him. Because he knew you honestly thought you did something wrong. You always doubted yourself. But you were perfect. So goddamn perfect. And amazing. And young.

“No sweetheart. It’s just…” He stops himself from going over to embrace you. Tell you to forget about it. Because this has to happen. You're 24. His 39. Even if the group. His and your family were ok with it. He heard the whispers around town. The other weren’t as supportive.

“I think we should end this. We had an amazing run. And you're young. You’re gonna find someone else that will love you more than I ever could.” He breaks his own heart with his words. Because he doesn’t want you to find someone else. He wants to be with you until the end. When and where ever the end was. But you deserve better. You deserve someone around your age. Not an old man with two children like him.

“I…” you stare at him. Cheeks strained with tears he caused. “I don’t want someone else.” You grab the comforter. It gets balled up as you tighten your grip on the fabric. Your mind running over everything you had done in the last weeks to get to the point. You had snapped at him a few days back because of Jessie Anderson. The blonde woman in her thirties that lived up the street. You didn’t hear what they were talking but her body language told you everything. She was flirting with Rick. And either he didn’t notice or didn’t care. Doubt played in your mind the whole day after seeing the interaction. Because Jessie was around Rick’s age. And you weren’t. You didn’t really have any life experience before the world ended. So it made sense if Rick preferred a woman his own age. As opposed to you, a 24-year-old kid in his eyes.

“I can get you a brownstone to stay in.” He said. Brushing off your comment. Which broke your heart even more.

The door opened showing the blonde that lived there. A smile and questioning look on her face.

“Is Rick here?” You asked, watching as she turned her head and yelling the man’s name into the home. He comes out from the kitchen; questioning who it was. The question dying in his throat when he saw it was you. Jessie excused herself leaving you and Rick alone. The former sheriff stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” he gives you a tight-lipped smile. Which you return.

“Just came to tell you Glenn and I are back.”

“Right,” he nods. “You guys went on a run. Get anything good?” You nodded before listing off some of the supplies you got. Including the stick shift car. You heard him chuckle. Looking into his eyes you saw that same playfulness as the day he first forced you to drive a stick.

“You didn’t flood the engine this time right?” He teased and you scoffed, punching him in the shoulder.

“I was amazing.” You boasted. The older man stared at you and you swear you heard a quiet. ‘Ya, you are.’

“You don’t mind if I asked Glenn?” You roll your eyes but smile.

“Go ahead. He's gonna tell you the same thing.” He nodded. Hand going on his hips. You watch as he licks his lips. Your breath hitching as you feel your stomach twisting in knots. “I should go. Need a shower desperately.” You don’t wait for him to say goodbye or stop you. You're off the porch and down the road heading home in a few steps.

And all my friends are tired

Of hearing how much I miss you, but

I kinda feel sorry for them

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

Maggie can’t drink. But that doesn’t mean you and Sasha can’t. Sasha, Abraham, and Rosita had come back later in the day from another run. They had been the unlucky ones not finding much of anything. But Sasha apparently found some top-tier booze in a rundown bar. The trio split it up between them. So here you were. Snacking on fresh strawberries drinking booze that would have been at least $100 for a bottle; straight out of the bottle. The three of you resting against the metal wall that protected the town from the nasty world outside.

“So,” Maggie started as she threw a strawberry stem into a bowl filled with them. “Heard someone talk with Rick.” Sasha and her eyes went to you as you grabbed the glass bottle of auburn liquid. Taking a healthy swig you felt the burn as it went down. You were far too sober to be talking about this. Talking about him. Because no one in the group knew why you guys ended it. Just one day you were a happy couple and the next you were packing up and moving into your own brownstone. Sasha took the bottle from you, making you whine. As you tried to reach for it but the former firefighter held it out of reach. Her hand on your chest also keeping you away from it.

“You can get some when you tell us what happened.” She landed down the rule and it makes you groan as you move to lay against the wall. You don't want to talk about it. You just want to wallow and let the scar form on your heart in peace.

A crack of thunder sends the trio onto the back porch of Maggie’s home. Lucky for you guys because moments after; the dark clouds opened up letting down heavy droplets that ping off the porch’s roof. Sasha is distracted by the rain. Asking Maggie if the crops will be ok. Allowing you to snatch the bottle from her hand and take another big glug. The bottle is half gone now. And honestly so are you. The alcohol works fast as your brain starts to go fuzzy. Sasha takes the bottle back slightly annoyed. But it clear the break-up has been hard. So she lets it go.

“You got your drink.” She says putting the cap back on and sitting it to the side out of your reach. “Now tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know.” You sob. You weren’t normally an emotional drunk. But with everything going on with Rick. Tonight you were.

And I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one, oh

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay, now that I'm gone

Maggie held you as you drunkenly cried. Sasha joined you on the other side, rubbing your back. You finally opened up about your breakup with Rick a month ago. You weren’t sure how much they understood because of the loud rain and your blubbering. But either way, they consoled you. Trying to help the only way they could. And the only way they knew how. Simply being there. Because for a month you kept this end. Kept this to yourself. So those outside of the group saw you were fine. The break-up didn’t seem to affect you. You carried on with work. Talked with Rick when it was needed. You acted fine.

But the group knew it. Of course, they knew. It was an act. Because they saw how you were breaking. How you had a longing in your eyes when the cowboy boots-wearing man walked by. The smile that rarely reached your lips. You were faking so much of your joy because your heart was broken.

“I just don’t get how he is so ok. Did I mean nothing?” The two women share a look at your question. Because they also know that Rick isn’t ok. Like you, he is acting. Because he is the leader and can’t break down. But the man isn’t ok. They don’t say that. Rick was the one that ended it. That was on him.

“I don’t know,” Maggie says softly as you rest your head onto her shoulder. “I wish I had the answer for you. But only Rick does.”

Red lights, stop signs

I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Can't drive past the places we used to go to

'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

The street lights are now on. It’s still raining when you tell Maggie you were going home. Sasha and her try to get you to stay the night. Or at least until the rain lets up. But the rain isn't letting up. It was so heavy you could barely see a few steps in front of you. But you step off the back porch and disappear down the alleyway of the lined-up homes. You walk. Just walk because you don’t want to go home just yet. If you go home you’ll be lonely. And you don’t want that. Because for a month you have been lonely in that damn brownstone. Rick wasn’t lonely. He was with Jessie. His arms wrapped around her body. Damn your brain. Just because you didn’t want to be lonely didn’t mean you wanted to think about them together.

The rain started to ease up as you found yourself passing Rick’s house. The lights upstairs were on. As you quickly looked away from the cookie-cutter home. A shiver ran through you and shoved your hands into your soaked jean pockets. Maybe now was a good time to head home. You haven’t even turned when you heard your name being shouted over the rain. Looking back at Rick’s home you see him rushing off the porch and over to you. His dark brown jacket acting as an umbrella. He puts it mostly over you shielding you from the rain.

“What are you doing out here? You're going to get sick.” He frets because he knows how likely that is. Because after the rainstorm when the group was on the trek through Virginia you had gotten sick. “Come on.” He orders and you walk with him toward his house.

Sidewalks we crossed

I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing

Over all the noise

You smile at him lightly as he places a cup of peppermint tea in your hand; you're favorite. You're in one of his white t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair, no longer wet from the rain but a hot shower. The alcohol is still in your system. How much you don’t know.

“What were you doing walking in the rain?” He questioned taking the seat next to you. His own cup of tea in his hand.

“Was drinking with Sasha and Maggie.” You look towards him as his eyebrows knit together as the mention of Maggie and drinking. “Maggie was moderating us. She wasn’t drinking, come on. She knows better.” Rick nods bowing his head because he does know better to think that about Maggie. But his time as a cop taught him that some people just don’t care. Not about themselves. Not about others. And sure as hell not about kids.

“Where did you get the booze from? Daryl?” You snort at him before blowing on your tea taking a careful sip. Sitting the cup down you look back towards him.

“I ain’t no rat officer.” He chuckles. You both do. A little inside joke between you both. And then the silence fell. The awkward uncertain silence of two people who didn’t know what to say next. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you stare into the tea. Rain still going strong outside, trapping on the roof of your former home. Rick shifts beside you clearing his throat.

“Judy trying to walk.” It makes you smile a bit.

“That’s good. Soon she’ll be running over you and Carl.” The older man chuckles nodding in agreement but you don’t see it. Head still bowed. Turning your mug as you watch the tea shift with each motion.

“Seeing anyone?” He was trying to keep the conversation going. But there had to be another question to ask that wasn’t this. You still answer it by shaking your head.

“No. But you seemed to have moved on.” It has some bite to you. You're bitter. Of course, you are. The man you were in love with. Seemed to easily move on after he ended it. You lift the ceramic mug and take a huge glug of your tea. The warmth fills you but it’s not enough.

“Ya. Jessie, she’s…” He doesn’t know what to say. Jessie is ok. Good to have around. Doesn’t make him feel as empty. But she is just not you. All her touches. All her kisses. They feel off and he knows why. Because the hands touching him aren’t yours. Neither are the lips that kiss him. But Rick is stubborn. Even if it hurts you both, he knows you need better. You deserve the world and he just can’t give it to you.

“She’s perfect.” You looked at him. Sadness, rooted so deeply in your eyes. He wants to pull you into him. Tell you that he is sorry. That he will end it with Jessie. Come back to you. And try to make all of this right. But he already drew his line in the sand and he won’t cross it. Because the moment he touches you he knows it will be his undoing.

“She has her flaws. No one is perfect.” Except for you. He wants to add. He hears a quiet 'ya' then it silence once again.

God, I'm so blue, know we're through

But I still fuckin' love you, babe

You were gone when Rick woke up. His clothes lay on the guest bed since you were dried. He wondered just when you left. He wondered if you slept at all. Because he didn’t. Knowing you were in the house but not in his arms. He was restless the whole night. He sighs. Picking clothes up. It was sad that he hoped this wouldn’t be the last time. But it most likely was going to be the only time. Because how often are you going to walk in the rain drunk? He takes the clothes to the laundry room. Before he throws the shirt in the basket he lifts it to his nose. Inhaling the flowery body wash scent from when you shower last night. You must found where he hid the body wash you left behind.

“Hey, dad!” Carl called out from the kitchen forcing Rick to dump the clothes in the basket. Entering the kitchen he smiled at his son. Judith was already in her high chair waiting for breakfast. Carl stood at the counter. The box of peppermint tea in his hands. Shit. He meant to put that up. Carl’s eye shifts from the box towards the sink. Where the mugs from last night sat unwashed. Then the young man turns to his father.

“Y/n was here wasn’t she?” He questioned but it was really a statement. It is the only reason for this tea to be out with two mugs in the sink.

“Ya,” He replied, moving towards his son and taking the box of tea from his hand. The young man sighed watching his father place the tea on a high shelf so only he could get to it.

“Why?” Carl asked.

“It was raining-”

“No,” he cut his father off. “Why did you break up with her?”

“Carl,” Rick sighed. As he pinched the bridge of his nose. If he didn’t want to have this conversation with Daryl or Michonne. He sure as hell didn’t want it with his son. But like Rick the young survivor was stubborn. He stepped into his father's past every time he tried to move around him.

“Carl,” Rick warns but the boy isn’t back down.

“No. You were happy with Y/n. Happier than I have ever seen you. Even with mom. Even before all of this.” The boy gestures at nothing but Rick knows what he means by that. Because he didn’t want to admit it. But his and Lori’s relationship was at rock bottom before the world ended.

“So why? What happened?” Carl pressed, making Rick sigh. He wondered. Only for a second. If Michonne had put Carl up to his. But he shook that from his head. Michonne won’t do that. This is purely Carl. Because Carl loves you so much. The both of you had apparently clicked before Rick had gotten to the quarry. And that bond only grew over time.

“It’s complicated, Carl. Now please,” Rick needed him to down the subject. And the young boy seemed to understand but is still pissed. He turns from his father. Feet carrying the young boy towards the door. “Where are you going?” He called out.

“Out!” And the slamming door let Rick know that Carl was gone. He sighed.

He knew everyone would move on. You would. Carl would. He would. In the far future, all of this will be just a bad memory. But right now. In the present, it hurt so fucking bad. Tears leaked from his eyes as he sucked in air. He did it to himself. He deserved this pain. And if he could he would take your pain. Allow you to be happy. To find love in someone else better than him. Because you're one of the good things in this ugly world.

I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

#walking dead #walking dead imagine #walking dead x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes angst

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psychogirlfriendandsupervillain · 4 years ago

Text

Leading Question

One shot (ish)

Benny Watts x Reader*

(* Reader wears a skirt, has hair long enough to pull (like anything longer than a buzzcut) and a vagina, so anyone who identifies with that: it’s free real estate. I am considering writing a copy that is fully gender-neutral, so if anyone wants that let me know (although I’m likely to do it anyway).)

Content/warning tags: NSFW, 18+, Smut (but it’s the slowest pacing smut, talking slow-burn but they’re both already in the bed, no joke), fluff?, friends to lovers, mention of alcohol, swearing, oral (male receiving), making out, heavy petting, really a whole lotta kissing, porn with no plot?, the porn is the plot, foreplay more like half the fucking play, hair pulling kink, mention of knife kink, sex, plotted during a figurative and literal fever, edited during a figurative and literal heat wave, we love it here.

Summary: Benny half-confesses to his attraction to the reader during a night at the bar and reader takes his clumsily put question and turns it into a homerun.

Word Count: 7k (this is what happens when you give me THAT and then take it away)

A/N: Entirely self-indulgent piece of smut thought out during two hours at 4 AM (and then throughout the rest of the day) the day after watching Fork, because I was frustrated and Benny is hot, whoopsie.

@go-catch-a-chickn showed some interest in what I was writing, but I bet you regret that now! Nonetheless, here’s your tag, have fun!

I’m open to criticism, just shoot me a message or an ask. Let me know if I’ve got errors or missed a warning.

--------

You and Benny were friends since high school. Not because you also played chess, but because you had been making out with your boyfriend in the back of the library and Benny had come looking for a chess book that was on the shelf you were leaning on. You two paused, moved to the side so that he could pull out the book and then he was on his way.

A few days later Benny was in the cafeteria and came up a few cents short, when a voice next to him told the woman at the register that they would pay for his meal as well as their own. He looked over at you as the cashier added your things to the total and you smiled.

“Now you have money over for other things.”

It continued like that for the rest of both of your high school stays. You would catch him in the corridor and strike up conversations before heading off for you next class. When your relationship with your boyfriend ended (mutually, it should be said; he was interested in another girl, you felt the spark wasn’t there anymore), you told Benny after he asked why you looked a little glum. He was supportive but didn’t bring it up again.

Now the two of you are sat at a bar counter, a bottle in front of each of you, as the day is winding down. You meet up like this between his tournaments and whatever else is going on your lives, touchdowns in the well-known amidst it all. The buzz of patrons has calmed down and outside the curtained windows the street is black, broken up by spots of the streetlights.

“Do you-“ Benny stops. He’s half turned towards you, left hand around his beer on the counter, legs facing you, but his eyes are currently at the bottles lined up against the back wall where the bartender is pouring a drink for someone down the line.

You put down your bottle after a sip, resting your hand on it just like he is. Benny starts again.

“What do you do when your dick tells you to sleep with your friend, but your brain tells you it’s not a good idea?” He’s still not looking at you. It’s almost a hypothetical, almost a thought about someone else.

You shrug, taking a last sip before turning forward.

“I don’t know, I follow what my pussy says.” With that you get up and put money on the counter to close your tab, seeing Benny jump in the corner of your eye at your answer. You’re pulling on your coat as you start for the door, slow enough that he’ll catch up no problem.

“Wait.” He’s at your side in no time. “I’ll walk you to your place.” Even in the slight shade of his hat you can see that he’s a bit flustered.

“You sure?” Benny nods. “Otherwise I could walk you to yours. It’s farther.” You push up the inner set of doors and Benny follows you into the dark airlock entryway.

“Why would you want to walk where it’s farther?” He asks behind you, a frown audible in his voice, and you hold up your hand to signal for him to wait as you push up the second set of doors.

The air rushes against you and the hum of a road somewhere off campus reaches your ears. There’s no one on the walk path running between fields of grass and lines of trees. It’s still too early for the streets to be filled with people getting home from the bars, too late for any overtime workers dragging their feet.

“Honestly?” You turn to Benny, who’s standing with his coat still unbuttoned and arms hanging at his sides, like he isn’t sure what to do with them. “Because I’m hoping to get invited up, and if I’m going to get fucked, I want to be in your bed, surrounded by the scent of you.”

It takes a second. Then he’s a little bit closer. Not that he was far away before, but he’s close enough that when he leans a little forward you don’t have to take a step to close the gap. Your lips run against his, soft and slow, with the slight scratch of his mustache against your skin, warm cotton and leather so close now, and then you step back, absentmindedly swiping your tongue over your own lips to chase his taste. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips.

“Your place or mine?” Benny’s voice is a little rough; maybe it’s the drinking, maybe it’s the kiss.

“Again, yours.” You quirk your lip and reach to catch Benny’s hand, warm in yours. Pulling him into motion you start walking in the direction of his apartment, shoes echoing against the asphalt.

“I’m not sure I will make it that far.” He sounds a bit tortured, and you laugh, squeezing his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you make it. And if you don’t, I’ll help you clean up and wait for you.”

Benny makes a noise.

“Tell me about Open Sicilian.” You look forward at the empty road as you walk.

“What?” He looks at you.

“To distract you, explain Open Sicilian to me.” He has explained that particular tactic to you several times before, not that it necessarily stuck too well.

“That’s not going to help!” Benny throws head back with a frustrated laugh. The sound makes your stomach flutter. “You’re going to make me tell you about chess, and then ask questions, to keep me distracted? Like you showing sincere interest in it isn’t going to just make it harder to focus.” He shakes his head, looking out over the empty street. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You would have gotten there quicker if Benny hadn’t stopped at every tree, stone wall, and doorway to push you against it and kiss you. He even sat down on a bench when you were halfway and pulled you down into his lap. You let yourself be pulled down but wouldn’t go along with his attempts to make you straddle him, despite his hand on your inner thigh through your skirt and his insistent, chasing kisses.

As you reach the building you let go off Benny’s hand so he can punch in the code for the door. He leads you up the hollow stairwell to his door, noisily unlocks it and lets you in before him.

It’s a short hallway with doors leading off to the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, lit by some cool light falling in from the open doorway to the kitchen. There are hooks for jackets with a pile of shoes beneath it to one side, and a table holding a phone and newspapers further in.

The lock clicks behind you and Benny turns around, dropping his keys back down in his coat pocket. Just as he faces you, you push him back against the door. Shock flashes in his eyes and his lips part but when you place your against his he quickly responds, pushing back against you, his tongue running against your bottom lip, inviting you to taste it. It’s with difficulty that you pull back.

“Okay, I lied.” You admit as you get onto your knees, looking back up at him. “Can I?”

Benny’s breaths are unsteady, and you have to ask him to repeat it before you can clearly hear him consent.

You hum, pushing aside his leather coat to hold his hips back against the door, pulling his belt out from its loops so you can undo the buckle. Benny closes his eyes and groans as you let the belt with his knife still attached fall back against his legs and undo his button and zipper.

“Don’t be too loud, you don’t want the neighbors to hear you, do you? Even solid wood doors are thinner than walls.” You wink up at him and he repeats the sound, head leaning back against the door and hips pushing forward. If you didn’t believe Benny before, you definitely would now, as you feel how hard he is through the barriers of fabric. He’s solid and warm against your hands.

Pushing his jeans down, you move his boxers carefully until you can pull them down as well. Precum is leaking down the underside of his erect cock and his hips push forward again, impatiently this time. You circle your hand around him, the other resting against his hip so that maybe he’ll stay in place, not having the patience to start stroking before you take him in your mouth.

The sound Benny makes when your lips close around his cock is far too loud and not loud enough. His breathing audibly speeds up, encouraging you to run your tongue along the underside each time you pull back. Sucking down his cock, you match your movements with those of your hand, creating just the perfect rhythm that has his hips pushing against your other hand. You look up at him, meeting his eyes as you circle his tip with your tongue and he pinches his eyes closed, turning his head back up and cutting off the whine escaping his throat. You swallow around him, and the whine comes back, ending in a high pitch. You do it again. His hand pushes lightly against your shoulder, and you pull off him, sitting back and licking your lips as he meets your eyes.

“I don’t want to finish before we’ve even started.” His words are low, his hand falling back against the side of his coat. You shift your legs on the floor.

“Shame, I want you to.” You smile and bite your lip. “I told you I’d help clean you up and wait after. I’m in no rush.” Benny’s hips jerk forward again.

“Fuck” His eyes flutter shut.

“Can I?” You wait for the sound of his yes before you lick a line from the base to the head, reveling in how little he is holding back this time. Pushing his hips back a little rougher against the door to keep him in his place you earn a moan of your name which has your stomach fluttering and head spinning. One of his hands rest on your shoulder again but isn’t pushing away this time. He lets you decide the speed, albeit with the occasional jerk of his hips as he hisses and braces against the door.

“Fuck, I’-” You feel Benny tensing and look up to see him looking down on you, breathing heavily and clenching his jaw. “Fuck” He slams his head back against the door, hips pushing him further in, and you can feel the vibrations emitting from his chest all the way in the back of your throat as he releases into your mouth. You swallow it down, catching the whimper Benny makes at the feeling it gives his cock.

When you get to your feet, Benny head is hanging so the brim of his hat casts his face in shadow and he’s leaning so heavily against the door you’re not sure he’ll be standing much longer. His breathing is loud in the quiet apartment, and you can’t help the pride growing in the back of your mind. Still breathing heavily, Benny finally lifts his head enough to look at you. You meet his eyes and swipe your tongue over your lips.

His eyes flicker down to follow the movement and he groans, slumping back against the door. You smile triumphantly.

“Let’s get your clothes back on and then I’ll get water.” You help Benny get his pants back on, refastening the buckle. He’s not standing entirely stable, but enough that you can slide his coat down his arms and hang it up, followed by his hat, before you sit him down on a stool right by the door. Having hung up your own coat and switched on the lights you gesture to the kitchen door. “Do you mind?” Benny shakes his head, blond hair falling in his eyes.

You fill two glasses from the tap, throwing a glance at your watch, before returning to him. Handing one to Benny you drink the other, both of you listening to him regaining control over his breathing while you empty the glasses. As you take your last sip you place both on the hallway table and toe off your shoes.

“Want to move out of the hallway?” You hold your hand out to Benny and he’s standing before you’ve had a chance to blink.

You get precisely two steps into Benny’s bedroom before he’s kissing you again. His tongue runs softly against yours, contrasting with the scratch of his beard. He won’t even let you move forward, blocking you with his body until his hands have found their place on your hips, and even then standing stronger than you’d expect from how he looked a minute ago.

Every kiss he chases after you, when you move to the side so does he, when your tongue touches his lips his tongue comes to greet it. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating, his body heat rising and seeping through his button up and your shirt, the warm scent of leather still lingering in the air around him.

Then Benny moves backwards, pulling you with him three quick steps, refusing to let your lips part for even a second, and lets you fall on top of him on his bed.

You pull back, insisting despite his protests. He managed to switch some light on before getting lost in you, letting you full appreciate the shine in his dark eyes when he looks up at you as you brush blond strands out of his eyes. Flittering over you above him, they keep coming back to meet yours, a playful smile on his lips. You lean back down and let him capture your lips again, his hands splaying one on your back, one running up and down your side. Chasing his smile you kiss the corners of his mouth, dipping your tongue in to meet his. It’s like you’ll never run out of places to taste him.

Straightening back up and moving so you’re straddling him, you undo the first buttons of your shirt, but Benny’s hands stop yours, taking over their work with slow precision. He pulls you back down so he can continue kissing you even if it makes it harder for him to get the buttons undone, not that that seems his top priority. Sitting up and sliding the fabric down your arms Benny throws it in some corner of the room, pulling you closer against him by your hips.

“Easy, tiger.” You hum against his lips and Benny laughs a little, shifting further back on the bed and letting you both fall back against the mattress again, arms wrapped securely around your waist.

His necklaces are cool against your skin, but his hands are on fire. They run over your back and sides, up one down the other, and leave nothing but further fires under your skin. Even his rings don’t feel cold as Benny brushes his fingers up your arm to cup your head, tongue skimming your lip but withdrawing whenever you try to catch it.

Pulling back for the first time, Benny looks up at you with a mischievous smile.

“If I had known telling you I like you would lead to this, I would’ve told you already five years ago.”

Not that you’d really been open to anything at that time. Five years ago, and the five that followed, you had been entirely focused on your academics, and the only person you really hung out with had been Benny. He brought his chess books and sat with you in the library while you read up for exams. You’d chat about everything while trying to cram every bit of knowledge into your tired brains. That really only slowed down once you graduated, the hyper-focus on reading every book and spending hours writing notes over bad coffee.

“Do you want to like” You look up at the head pillows laying vertically to your bodies, and Benny starts laughing, luring you into doing the same. “move up?”

“Sure” He lets go of you so you can both get higher on the bed, but the second you’re close enough Benny pulls you back over him. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.” You smile and lean down halfway. Amused you watch Benny push up to meet you, hungry lips convincing you to push him back down into the mattress.

You can’t help the occasional shifting of your hips against his, underwear pushing against the friction of jeans below your skirt. His hands skim the hem of it, but never ventures below it, favoring to run up to your hips and draw you closer.

Running his hands up your back to hold you against him, Benny rolls you over onto your back. Settling between your legs, he braces one arm above you while the other cups the side of your head, lifting just enough for your lips to reach his.

“You know, for later, we’re still on your bed.” You remind him before kissing the corner of his mouth. Benny’s lips quirk and he follows you back down against the pillow.

“I know.” He runs his nose along the side of your neck, the chains around his sliding against your skin. Warm cotton and leather surround you, and this might actually be heaven.

Pushing back a bit Benny reaches up to undo his green button up but stops when you give him a look.

“Isn’t it my turn now?”

Benny lets go off the button and shows his hands, dropping them to your hips as you reach up, undoing the first button before pulling him down by his collar. His smile meets yours, and it only gets bigger for every button, as the release of each is met with the same celebration.

When there are no more buttons to open you slide the fabric out from his pants and down his bare arms. Holding the shirt out in one hand you look at Benny, whose eyes are locked on yours, his lips kiss-bruised.

“Does this have to be folded on a chair” You tilt your head. “or can I just throw it?”

“Throw it.” His eyes sparkle, his voice hitting a little lower and sending vibrations where your body is touching his.

The green fabric flutters to rest at the far end corner of the bed in your peripheral vision. You weren’t really looking where you were throwing.

“It didn’t even get off the bed.” You speak very seriously, as if it was a grave matter, but you’re absorbed by Benny, whose eyes are as stuck in yours as yours are in his. “If you want it off, you’ll have to throw it yourself.”

His arms shift above you, and without moving away from you or breaking eye contact Benny kicks the shirt, sending it tumbling of the edge with a soft thud as it hits the floor. You push your hips up against his, the hilt of the knife at his belt pressing against the inside of your thigh. Benny’s hips thrust back against yours and he lowers down to brush his lips against yours before devouring you again. Your thighs slide against his bare skin, and he reaches back to hook them further over his hips, swiping his tongue along yours. When Benny pulls back slightly the sound he makes fills the room, bouncing off the walls. The end of it mixes with the sigh of his name pulled from your lips as he dips the tip of his tongue into the corner of your mouth.

“Think we’ll wake the neighbors?” You lift off the bed to chase after him, not giving him a chance to reply, pushing him over onto his back. His hips shift against yours as he settles into the mattress.

“The walls are thicker than the door.” He looks up at you straddling him, his lips quirking up into a smile, blond hair falling over his eyes again. Satisfied with his answer you lower your body back down over his, occupying his mouth with yours again.

From slow, insistent kisses where Benny’s tongue runs against yours, you move to kiss the corners of his lips, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead, and his eyelids as he closes his eyes. Continuing down his chin, alternatingly placing kisses on either side of his neck, and one at the dip at the base of his throat, passing over his chains, you shift back to trail down the right side of his chest. As your lips touch between navel and the top of his jeans, brushing along the fabric, Benny touches the side of your head.

“Don’t you dare do it again.” His tone is light and teasing, with just an edge of breathlessness and seriousness.

You move up to kiss his left hip and his hand falls back onto the mattress.

“I won’t.”

You trail back up Benny’s irregularly moving chest, out his right upper arm, and lift his hand. Pressing two more soft kisses to his inner forearm, you place one in the middle of his palm and one to the tip of each finger, before beginning again at his sternum and doing the same to his left arm.

Raising back up you push Benny’s hair from his eyes, inviting the light to dance with the sparks already in them.

“Benny Watts, you are a drug.” You smile a little breathlessly and shake your head down at him. The corners of Benny’s mouth start to raise, and he quickly swipes his tongue up to pull down his upper lip and bites down on his lower.

His attempts fail and when you kiss Benny, he’s beaming, a satisfied sound emitting from the chest pressed against yours. His heartbeats translate through your ribcage and your sentiment is repeated in your mind with a flutter in your stomach.

Ringed hands shift from your hips to your back to hold you closer against him. Somehow, you’ve forgotten Benny’s knife because you can’t even feel it at this point. You only feel the friction of his body against your, the pull of his lips.

“You should be in prison.” His tongue swipes into your mouth at that, stalling your continuation with a dizzying taste. “You should be in jail, and I should be in the same cell with you.” The vibrations of Benny’s laugh and twist of his lips reach your senses at the same time as the push of his hips. Combined they’re enough to make you say his name against his lips, repeating it when he does it again.

Lifting off the mattress Benny’s hands holds your hips down against his as he sits up, lips running down the side of your neck when they slip from yours. The scratches against your skin turn into fire running through your veins, out into your arms and fingertips as you run them over his bare shoulders, along the chains around his neck. You barely hear the sound of your name slip from his tongue against the crook of your shoulder, before Benny turns to make you fall first back into the mattress.

Benny’s hands run from your hips to the hem of your skirt, warm fingers tracing bare skin. You lift your hips against his and he pulls back, but only after sucking your lip into his mouth, swiping it with his tongue.

“Want me to get it off?”

“It’s mostly in the way at this point.” Having gotten his answer, Benny eases the skirt down, letting you lift your hips and moving so he’s not in the way. When it’s all the way off he throws the fabric the same way as your shirt, or maybe the opposite. You can’t remember.

Leaning back over you Benny brushes his lips against yours, meeting you when you arch up against him, then lets himself kiss you fully again. His hips push yours down into the mattress before he pulls them back up towards him. You roll back against him, crossing your legs behind Benny’s back, and he hisses against your lips. The sound of you saying his name causes the grind of his hips to stutter, restart, a low sound resonating in his chest, sending its aftershocks through your body as his hands squeeze your thighs a little harder.

One moves to skim the inside of your knee, hot fingers with warm rings running over equally heated skin. When it reaches the junction of your thigh and hip it slides up along the edge of your underwear and then drops beside your side to support his weight as Benny brings his other hand to hover between your legs and pulls away from your lips.

“Can I?” His dark eyes shimmer.

“Yes.” Since you can’t hear your own voice over the increased speed of your heartbeat you repeat it twice, catching the way Benny’s tongue darts out over his bottom lip as his eyes flicker down.

He runs his knuckles down the slick, wet fabric. You think you hear a breathed-out curse but are distracted when fingertips retrace the same path with just enough pressure to make your hips roll against them. The feeling is dizzying, your breathing skips. Benny’s dark eyes flick back up to yours. Then he does it again, sending sparks where the pads of his fingers almost touch you. Your eyes almost flutter at the way he looks at you when your breathing stops again to become what might have been a curse, or his name, or the curse of his name. The last one in particular feels likely as the sound twists and grows louder, and Benny’s eyes are locked on yours.

Pressing back into his bed you roll your hips against his, his hands planted back on either side of you as he lowers back down to press starved kisses to your mouth. Hips lift off yours, only to change their mind and push back down, accompanied by a curse against the corner of your lips. When Benny’s bottom lip slides against yours, you pull it into your mouth and lightly push down your teeth into it. His left arm buckles as you swallow the sound of his groan.

With little effort you coax Benny onto his back. He willingly falls down onto the pillow, rings sliding against your back as he tries to entice you into press against him. His fingers trail down, skimming along the edge of your underwear until they reach the front, barely touching the waistband, eyes flicking up to yours.

You give permission before Benny even has a chance to open his mouth.

The pads of his fingers push past the fabric, running softly your body until your breathing hitches as they lightly slip over your clit. You resist the urge to close your legs around his hand but can’t help the way your breathing audibly increases when it moves further down. Bare skin slides against your wet folds, stroking up and down; the movement slow and deliberate, and far too good for you hold it out for much longer.

You make a sound.

“Explain Closed Sicilian to me.” Your voice is strained, and you are trying very hard to not focus on every slight change in pressure Benny is subjecting you to right now. Another noise slips out and you bury your face against his chest, rolling your hips involuntarily against his hand. “Please, please explain it to me.”

“Now?” Benny’s other hand pushes against your hip.

“If you don’t, I’m going to come, and I’ve waited this long so I’d rather you didn’t do that before you’re actually inside me.” You lift your head to look up at him, quickly adding “Then again, you talking about that is just going to make it worse, so maybe don’t.” You did not need his eyes lighting up and his confidence going thrice its size because he was talking about something he really, really liked. That was bound to make your situation become much better and much worse really quick.

Benny looks like he’s about to protest before making a face and withdrawing his hand.

“Alright, fine.” He rolls you onto your back and kisses you hard, raising his hips as much as possible but keeping you down with his chest.

Letting you up to breathe Benny’s hands go to his belt, pulling it fully out of the loops this time. He catches the handle off his knife as it slides off the leather and off-handedly places it down on your stomach so he can roll the leather around his hand.

You must have done something as the sheath fell flat or as your eyes shifted up and back down again because Benny’s eyes flick from the belt in his hands to your eyes and then he smiles.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for knives too.” He teases.

“Listen” You’re a little too breathless for any type of denying being at all believable and it’s visible in Benny’s eyes how little he would actually believe you if you tried. “Messing with that takes practice and discussions, so let’s put a pin in that. I like seeing you get off, let’s leave it at that for now.”

He tilts his head like ‘fair enough’, finishes rolling up his belt and puts both that and the knife out of view to your left.

You reach up to brush Benny’s hair to the side where it’s over his eyes again, letting your fingers linger just above his ear. There’s something very recognizable about the slight way his eyes move at the gesture.

“Do you- like having your hair pulled?” You ask tentatively, and when Benny doesn’t answer right away you continue “You don’t have to say yes.”

It takes a second longer, and you start to pull your hand away before he shifts his eyes away and rolls his shoulders.

“So what if I do?” Benny glances back at you.

“I’ll tell you what” You smile encouraging, guiding the topic to focus on yourself instead to make him more comfortable. “you’d be in good hands; I like it both ways.” Benny visibly relaxes but you don’t move your hand back, favoring to slide it along his jaw to stop below his lower lip.

Softly tilting his head down, you give the slightest pressure. He follows down to peck your lips before drawing back to meet look at you again, hands rubbing reassuringly over your thighs. The pad of your thumb rests against Benny’s bottom lip, and you tilt your head, trying to read out the thoughts that form and disperse behind his eyes. The corner of his lip quirks up and he dips his head down to catch the finger in his mouth. The flat of his tongue maps your fingerprint, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You make a noise, shooting him a glare as he looks far too smug when you pull your hand back to press it against his back instead. The expression doesn’t leave his lips when you push his side to get him down, as a matter of fact he looks offensively at home against his pillow, shuffling further into it before beaming up at you again. Unable to stop yourself you scoff, trying to look annoyed but failing spectacularly.

“Think you’re ready to go again, if you want to?” You look at your watch, pinching the face of the clock to keep it so you can read the time. “It’s been an hour.”

“You still have your watch on?” Benny reaches up to pull your arm down so he can look at it.

You laugh.

“Well, you didn’t take it off me.” You let him turn your hand over, undoing the watch and looking at it for a second before handing it to you. Leaning over him you put it on the empty nightstand to your left.

“I’m so glad you’ve got two nightstands.” You hum, leaning back to resettle over his hips.

Thinking for a second, Benny makes a face, a mixture between a frown and scrunching up his face.

“It doesn’t make sense to only have one nightstand.” He states, eyes flicking back to yours. Smiling at his answer you bend down to peck his lips.

“That’s what I like about you, Benny Watts. Things can’t just be for you; they have to make sense.” Continuing in the same light tone you add “I might even go as far as to say I love you.”

“Woah, you’re just gonna show your hand like that?” Benny mimics shock, before smiling, his hands rubbing your hips reassuringly. “Throw the whole game?” You snort a little, moving your eyes to the wall, schooling your expression to be serious.

“As if you didn’t show your hand back at the bar.” You tilt your head exaggerated, pretend thought. “And earlier, now that you mention it.”

“I said liked.” Just like you, Benny is pressing his lips together to prevent himself from laughing, and even then, a smile cracks through.

“I’ll give you that, you did say like.”

Benny pulls you down, kissing you with a smile. Letting yourself sink into it you push down against him, swallowing the sound he makes and feeling his heart beating through his chest. His hands pull your hips closer to his to repeat the motion. His breathing increases as you do it infinitely slower this time, feeling you press against him, although you can’t say you are doing any better.

“Ready?” You laugh breathlessly and Benny groans, pushing his head back into the pillows.

“I was ready half an hour ago.”

“Well, good sex takes preparation. And this is going to be good.” Straightening up you putting the base of your hand on Benny’s chest, holding your index in front of his face to shush him. “No, no, it’s going to be, because I’ll make it so.”

Instead of arguing, with sparkling eyes Benny favors to bend his head forward and close his mouth around your finger, sucking while you talk. His tongue swirls around the digit and the corner of his lips quirk up when you make a sound, mind drifting before you catch it.

“Asshole.” Benny’s eyes light up mischievously at that, and when you pull your hand back, he raises his eyebrows.

“Oh you wan-?”

You cut him off.

“Shut up.” The bed shakes with Benny’s laughter, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him. He’s really having too much fun.

When his laughter calms down, Benny looks at you for a second before sitting up.

“Come on”

He nudges you sideways until you get the hint and get off him, letting him get off the bed. Benny offers his hand to pull you up after him. When you’re both on your feet he turns back and in one quick motion rips off the covers, throwing the corner to the middle so the bed is folded half-open diagonally but not all the way down.

You’re just letting your underwear drop onto the floor when Benny turns back around, and he catches up with you in the time it takes you to blink. He holds his hand out again, pulling you with him backwards.

Jut before his legs hit the bed Benny sidesteps, pulling you down first onto the bed and following, catching himself on his arm so he doesn’t fall directly on top of you.

Settling between your legs, Benny tilts his head with a cheeky smile.

“Comfortable now?”

You make a show of settling into the pillow, trying to divert his attention from the way you pull air deep into your lungs. It’s in the pillow, the sheets, the air vibrating around you with tension, but most of all it’s above you, radiating from him. The warm, slightly sweet, smell of clean cotton shirts pulled from the tumbler, a bed slept in until well past noon, and sun-heated leather in the first days of summer.

“Yes.” You smile up at him.

“Good.” Benny lowers down over you and presses his lips to yours, tongue running over your lip once before slipping into your mouth. You hum while he pulls protection from a drawer of one of the nightstands above your field of vision and pulls it on.

Fingers skim lightly over the wetness gathered between your legs, and then Benny pushes into you. It sends lightning through your stomach, sliding slowly, almost torturously, against sensitive nerve endings. His breath is slow and controlled, albeit a bit wavering. Solid warmth spreads from his body into yours and your body clenches involuntarily around him when he stills, breath warming the side of your neck. Your hands run up his sides to find purchase.

“You’re gonna mark me?” You ask the ceiling and Benny shifts, running his nose against your throat and giving you chills.

“You want me to?” His hips pull back slightly, and you close your eyes at the slow drag of his cock against your inner walls. As Benny pushes back in, one hand disappears from beside you, moving your hand from his back to his hair. Sparks dance up your spine when he thrusts a little quicker, igniting you both like a match against a striking surface. Benny makes a sound in the back of his throat before kissing you again.

Carding your fingers through his hair near his scalp you pull lightly. The way his hips jerk forward has you arching against him, moan mixing with his. Tension builds in your stomach and if the room was hot before it is blazing now. Benny presses against you, overwhelming and perfect, filling you. Your hips lift off the bed to meet his, legs crossed behind his back to pull him closer. The drag of his abdomen against you in just the right place has you whining against his lips. His next thrust is faster, causing your body to clench down, approaching the edge fast.

“I’ve waited this long to fuck a master; you better not make this be over quick.” Your hips arch against his despite your breathless words.

“You call an hour and a half quick?” Benny asks in disbelief, but the roll of his hips slows to delightfully slow, burning pulls. He closes his eyes, breathing becomes deliberately slowed. “I’m not going to last long no matter how slow I go.”

“That’s okay, neither am I.” You quirk the corner of your lip as Benny opens his eyes again and pull him back down to your lips. Trying to starve of your orgasm you focus on tasting every corner of his mouth. It seems to have the opposite effect on Benny, as he whines and his hips stutter. One of his arms buckle and you pull your hand free to direct his to your hair before going back to his.

The first slow drag releases a satisfied noise from you, and the slight sting of the next sends a thrill down your body, connecting with where Benny’s cock pushes into you. He slides his tongue against yours, pulling your head close to his.

“Fuck” The word falls from both of your mouths as your fingers pulls the blond strands they’re tangled in, and Benny’s hips jerk forward. You push your hand against his lower back to push him down, deeper, and he pulls your hips up with his free hand, grinding against you. His eyes glitter with pride when you arch, pressing your head into the pillow, mouth falling open.

Unsatisfied, Benny slows even further, changing thrusts for slow grinds, watching you trying to make a sound with a smile, heels pressing into his lower back. Your eyes flutter, trying desperately to stay open, pleasure coursing through you in unrelenting waves. Meeting his eyes, you jerk your hand a little harder in Benny’s hair, and the sound he produces almost has you falling.

His hand pushes between your bodies as he moves faster again. The pleasure is hot and fast, and as Benny pulls your lips to his it explodes, fire shooting through your veins in search of oxygen and shaking your entire body. He swallows the cries of his name falling from your lips, but then his hips stutter and slipping from your lips he repays the praise. It’s loud, it’s messy, and it’s so fucking hot.

Benny drops his head in the crook of your neck, weakly trying to hold himself up. Your chest pushes against his until both your accelerated breathing reaches the same rhythm. There is pleasant ache starting to make itself known, one you’re sure you’ll be feeling tomorrow, and perhaps the day after that.

Softly you push Benny over and he lets himself be rolled onto his back, still inside you. Head landing on the pillow he takes a few more breaths before his eyes pop open. When they meet yours there is a content smile on his lips, with only a hint of unsedated hunger still visible in his dark eyes. He reaches forward to meet your smiling kiss and lets you pull off him and roll onto the mattress beside him.

After a few seconds of just the sound for your breathing your voice comes alive again.

“I hope we didn’t wake anyone.”

Benny starts laughing, breathlessly and beautifully, and you scrunch your nose playfully at him.

“I hope we did.” He looks at you, eyes brilliant, and adds in a more serious tone. “I think they’re all asleep so they can get up at a reasonable hour tomorrow.”

You reach over and pull your watch from the nightstand.

“Two isn’t a reasonable hour to be up?” Benny snorts a laugh at your fake naiveté as you settle back into the bed.

There’s a few more seconds of silence before he talks again.

“I still only made you come once.” Benny looks at you, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up; the hunger more than unsated now.

“That’s okay” You smile teasingly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, you did all the hard work.”

Benny doesn’t find an answer to that, but you have a feeling neither of you think two is very late at all.

#I fucking called the watch thing I'm so proud!#I'm glad the internet agrees that Benny has both bi and switch energy #benny watts #benny watts x reader #the queen's gambit

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