#and I was incredibly anxious and started to shake and cry so she let me go

[herbaklava]

I had the most emotionally draining day today.

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Sixteen

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: Brief mentions of sex (nothing too deep) Mentions of Loss / Grief / Death, Sad / Anxious themes briefly, Fluff, RomComs (Char is a crier) , Jake being the little sweetie pie that we know and love him to be, and last but certainly not least- A LOT of references to John Tucker Must Die (may include some spoilers if you haven't watched the movie, but also go watch it?? What are you doing? It's incredible.)

Word Count: 4k.

Summary: After a long night with him, Charlotte finds herself in a bit of a predicament.

Author's Note: Oh, this turned out to be a cute one guys! I honestly went into this chapter with a vague idea of how I wanted it to go and then suddenly had the Jimmy Neutron-style brain blast when I realized what they needed to be doing. I really hope you enjoy it; it's a bit of a niche chapter but, it's actually kind of important in the grand scheme! Can't wait to hear your feedback and I really can't wait for next week. 🤭

Feels Like - Gracie Abrams "Met you at the right time, this is what it feels like."

The feeling of him pulling me back into him as I’m half asleep, letting a little ‘mmm’ slip out with his face tucked into me. Our bodies tangle into each other as he slides one of his legs between mine, keeping me as close to him as possible. The warmth coming from him made up for the lack of clothes we had on. 

We lie there for a while, in and out of sleep, sharing gentle touches occasionally; he’d slide his hand up and down my thigh a few times and then fall back to sleep or kiss the base of my neck slowly. I’ll never understand how he’s real. 

“I have to pee so bad,” he mumbles into me. His morning voice is extra raspy, and despite him being a little too honest, it really is adorable. I just quietly laugh at him as he tightens his grip around me. 

“You should probably go take care of that,” I whisper back, trying not to laugh more. 

He lets out a long breath against me, “I’d have to stand up, and that just sounds awful.”

“Yes, but if you pee on me, I'm never letting you live that down,” I tell him, making him laugh. 

“Alright, alright,” he groans. “But, don’t move– I’m coming right back.” He leaves a kiss on my shoulder before sliding out of bed. I turn around to watch him as he just pulls on a flannel, his legs still fully on display from how short his boxers are. It's hard to believe that no girl has tried to get with him; he is effortlessly gorgeous. 

Once he’s left the room, I grab my phone, unlocking it to see the dreaded email from my boss that I knew I would be receiving. We’ve been going back and forth the past few days trying to figure out what I'm doing. To be honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Not cooperating with your job is what you’re doing. Be so for real, Char.

Knowing I’d probably regret my choice, I decided to open his reply. 

‘Charlotte- I’ve been trying to be as flexible as I can with you, and I understand that you’re technically doing work—I can’t stress how much this isn’t an option for you. You were hired as an in-office employee. Now, I know you’re still grieving, but our bereavement days are only supposed to be for immediate family members, and we are already letting that slide for your friend, so I would really appreciate it if you were a little more cooperative.  I need you to figure out a return date within the next week or so and give it to me by the end of the day.'

‘Letting it slide for your friend,’ the sting from that specific line, making my heart pound and my eyes start to well up. I can’t cry right now; I doubt he meant it to be mean, Char. I don’t care how he meant it; it hurts. She may as well have been family, in my mind. Now, the daunting task of how I’m supposed to go back into the office after all of this will plague my mind today. 

My hands are shaking as I scroll up and down through the email. I swallow hard to try and stop the sadness that’s forcing its way up my throat. I quickly lock my phone and toss it to the other end of the bed as the door to his room opens. 

“I had a feeling you’d be up,” his soft voice rang through the room. He looks so sweet, carefully walking over with two mugs full of coffee. I figured you would want this.” He holds it out for me, his gaze finally meeting mine. 

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. 

“Thank you” comes out a bit more strained than I would have preferred. His eyebrows pull together. He sets his mug down on the nightstand and sits in front of me. 

“What’s going on?”

I shake my head, my throat feeling tight all over again. 

“Hey,” his hands gently rubbed my legs, “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” 

My eyes betray me as they well up. I set my coffee down with his, quickly wiping my eyes as the tears started to come out. 

“It’s a long story,” I choke out quietly. 

“I have time.” 

The tears instantly fall as I sit there in front of him, feeling like he wants nothing more than just to make sure I’m okay. My hands fly up to cover my face, feeling dumb for crying in front of him.. again.

His hands moved to my arms, gently pulling me towards him. He whispered, “Ooh, come here, honey.” 

Without hesitation, I crawled into his lap, resting my face against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me. We sit there for a few minutes like that before I finally decide to say it. 

“Um.. my best friend passed away,” I tell him, doing my best to keep it together enough to explain. “Her funeral was the day I came in to help and cried in your office.” I can feel him take a deeper breath before saying anything. 

“I can’t even imagine,” he says softly, “I’m so sorry.” Resting his face against the top of my head. 

“Yeah, it’s just a lot.” My heart aches, replaying the thoughts in my mind before I choke out,  “I miss her so much.” 

“Tell me about her.”

What? He— oh. I shift myself to face him, sitting in between his legs. He sweetly wipes underneath my eyes, his hands dropping to find mine. 

“Her name is Cassie,” I start. Telling him everything I could, how we met, and how she always made me laugh. The way she was so naturally beautiful and inspiring to watch exist. I was explaining how we would always end up spending the night at each other's houses because we would just get too caught up in talking. I found myself laughing at one point while explaining, even with tears still falling. 

He held my hands the whole time. He listened so intently, keeping eye contact and only letting go when I needed one to explain something or if he was wiping a tear away from my face. He was everything I needed at that moment.

“She sounds wonderful,” he says, softly squeezing my hand. 

My eyes well up as I look at him, forcing out a laugh as I stare up at the ceiling, trying to prevent the tears from falling. She would have loved you. The look on his face makes it harder to keep it together, his eyes looking so concerned as more tears sneak out. 

“She really is,” I let out with a sigh, which swiftly turned into a laugh. “I swear I can hear her in my head half of the time.” 

He smiles for a second, “That’s how you know she was a good one.”

A tear falls and lands on his hand, feeling the little spray as it bursts against him. Pulling me out of the moment and realizing how close we are. He's so gentle the way he runs his thumb over my knuckles as we talk. He quickly pulled me into his arms, and as soon as he saw tears, there was no hesitation. My heart shakes at the thought. 

“You know what,” he starts, bringing me back to earth and gently squeezing my hands. Let me talk to Josh real quick. I have an idea.” His eyes are soft, gazing all over my face. 

“Can I know what it is?” I ask quietly. He leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead carefully. 

“If I can make it happen, yes.” 

I grab the coffee he brought. It’s questionably cold at this point, but I'm sipping on it anyway. Cass, I wish I could get confirmation from you or something. How am I supposed to know if you were right? 

He leans against the doorframe and looks at me. “Okay, are you comfortable hanging out for a little bit?” 

“I can.” 

“I’m going to go down to the bar for a few, and then I need to grab a couple things, and I’ll be back,” he says,  talking faster than I think I’ve ever heard him speak. “If that's okay?”

I nod, “I might try to read a little then.” 

He wanders over to sit in front of me again, “are you positive?”

“Mhmm,” I can’t help but chuckle at him a little, “Do what you need to.”

He gets dressed quickly, which is unfortunate for me, before walking over and kissing the top of my head. 

“You promise you’ll be alright?” he asks, squatting down in front of me and instinctively grabbing my free hand, looking up at me, waiting for an answer.

I can’t help but laugh, “Yes, I’ll be okay.” 

“There she is,” he says, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After he left, I spent a few minutes debating whether to reply to my boss but choosing not to do that while I was still emotional felt like the right option. I curled back into his bed, holding his pillow close to me as I drifted in and out of sleep for a while. Hearing the door open, he was definitely carrying something when the thud of it hitting the door rang through the apartment. I crawled out of his bed and snuck out into the living room. 

“Hi,” I squeak out, feeling oddly excited to see him. 

He turns around, a sweet little smile on his lips, “Hey you.” 

I wander over to the couch, pulling the throw blanket over me while he’s putting things away. 

“Okay, so,  I got us some shitty food to make and some Downeast,”  He looks over at me, holding up his hand out of defense,  “I can cook, but it just felt appropriate for today, alright?” 

“Do you not have to work?” I ask, letting my eyebrows pull together as I stare at him. 

He shakes his head, “That’s why I went down early, so I could be free for the evening.” He took the night off for me? 

“You didn’t have to do that!” 

“No, I know,” he says, his smile making my heart melt, “I wanted to.”  

He practically took the wind out of me with that statement. He wanted to..? He’s far too nice to me. It’s almost like I deflated but in a good way. Nobody has ever cared enough to do something like this..  Not realizing how zoned out I had been until his voice brought me back. 

“Want to pick something to watch, hun?” 

Something about the pet name always makes my body tingle. Last night probably didn’t help.  I know immediately what I want to watch, opening Hulu quickly. 

He wanders over, handing me a drink. 

“What’s the verdict?” He asks, sinking into the couch next to me as I click play. 

“John Tucker Must Die,” I tell him, sipping on my drink before setting it on the coaster near me. I have to tell Josh how cute these are. 

“I don’t think I could tell you the last time I watched this,” he admits. 

“Really? We watch it—” I start to say, but being hit by reality again, “Um... Cass and I would watch it all the time when we’d hang out.” It feels like he can tell that I am having a moment because he quickly grabs my hands. 

“Well then, I apparently have been sleeping on a cinematic masterpiece!” He spits out, making me laugh. He sinks back into the couch, propping one of his legs up on the corner of the coffee table. 

I was readjusting myself a little, partially for comfort but also because he was so close, and I didn’t know what to do with my legs. He glanced over as I was trying to get situated, silently grabbing my ankle and pulling my legs over on top of his. There were those butterflies again. 

The opening segment of the movie showcases how terrible John Tucker really is. Unfortunately, I have wasted plenty of dates on men like him. 

“This dude sucks?” he mumbles. 

Giggling quietly, “Well, you’re not really supposed to be rooting for him, so I’m glad you think so.” 

A few minutes later, Scott Tucker, as we know—he is the better brother—shows up on screen. I look over at Jake. He’s focused on the movie, but his hand is holding my leg, casually running it up my calf, and occasionally giving it a little squeeze. 

Watching him for a minute as he’s focused on the TV, I notice that his expression is naturally so soft. I lean forward, pulling some of the throw blanket over him, not realizing I had the bulk of it. 

“Didn't mean to hog the whole thing,” I giggle as I tell him. I was still trying to toss the excess blanket over him. 

The way his eyes smile when he says, “Well, thank you.” He grabs the edge of it, helping me before bringing his hand back to my ankle. How he keeps some form of contact is so funny to me. It’s very clearly an absentminded thing that he does, and I won’t argue that it isn’t nice that he just wants to be touching me casually. It’s a wildly comforting feeling that I didn’t realize I enjoyed. 

His giggles when John has the estrogen meltdown have my heart melting. Just the organic laugh out of him is such a nice sound, especially after earlier. I’ll take any ounce of serotonin I can get. It takes me a few minutes to focus on the TV and not just look at him because I’d almost rather spend the entire movie watching his reactions. 

“Yeahhhh .. been there, bud,” he mumbles, as John is tripping over his words because Kate’s in red lingerie. He looks over with an exaggerated scowl at me as I bark out a laugh. 

“Hey now,” I start, “You seemed to enjoy it!” 

His mouth falls open, “Of course I enjoyed it? I would have enjoyed it more if I wasn’t behind the bar fighting demons the entire time, you little shit.” 

“Oh, was it so terrible?” I tease him, trying not to laugh. 

He grabs his phone, quickly swiping through our messages and clicking on one of the pictures I had sent. He turns it to face me and slowly blinks at me, “How was I supposed to be okay when you look like THAT?” 

“Okay, maybe it was a little unfair,” I let out through a laugh. 

His eyebrows pull together, “A little? God, I was sweating, honey.” 

There’s that pet name again, and I don’t know what makes the butterflies show up, but they do every time. I pull myself closer to him. He looks over at me, lifting his arm for me to get closer to him. 

Staying pressed against his side, his hand lightly drawing little circles on my arm while one of my hands found comfort on his stomach. Something about him, in general, just made me feel safe. The doom and gloom in my brain seemingly lessen when I'm around him.  

I look up at him as Scott asks her to be his lab partner again, feeling my eyes well up a little. It’s him, isn’t it, Cass? Seeing the way his eyes light up at their interaction before glancing over to me.  

“Oh?” He questions, his eyebrow popping up quickly. 

“No, I’m fine,” I laugh out, trying to blink the tears back into my body. “It’s just sweet.” 

“It is,” he says quietly, holding eye contact for a minute. I feel my heart start to pound as he stares at me. Why am I nervous, like we haven’t kissed before? My eyes wander to his lips just for a second. He really does have such a pretty mouth. It's hard not to admire him when he’s so close. 

His stare drops to my mouth now. This is like the worst game of chicken we could ever play. A smile slowly pulls on the corners of my lips as he gazes at them. 

Clearing his throat he starts to sit up, “Do you want some food?”

“Please, I’m shockingly hungry.” I almost couldn’t respond fast enough. 

After a couple of minutes, I can’t help but move into the kitchen with him. 

“You know,” I start, “it’s really unfortunate that they never kissed at the end.” 

“You think so?” he glances over.  

“Mhmm,” I say, “You can’t tell me you weren’t waiting for it.” Folding my arms over myself, waiting to see if he argues against it. Even though there’s not a good argument against that. 

“Mmmmm...” his voice gets quiet. " It probably would have been a good one, too, huh?” He leans against the counter, holding his hands out to me. 

“I feel like it had to be, right?” I move closer, and he smiles as I take his hands. 

“Maybe something like,” he pulls me into him, “this?” 

His hands held my jaw, pressing his lips into mine. Slowly, we moved against each other, my hands pressing against his chest. He lingers over my mouth for a second; his smile grows as he looks at me. Oh, oh no. The butterflies in my stomach go crazy as he smiles a breath away from me. 

“Yeah, that would work,” I mumble. We’ve kissed countless times at this point; I mean, we literally had sex less than 24 hours ago.. Twice even. Something about him today is making my body react differently.  

The oven beeping scares the shit out of me and brings me back to real life as I flinch, still in his arms. 

We fall back into our regular routine of telling each other little stories that we can recall as he makes food; I’m just physically present rather than watching him through Facetime. And it’s not three a.m. 

Not even eating could stop us from laughing about some ridiculous story he was telling me about him and his brothers as kids. I could listen to his stories all day, how he’s so happy when he’s talking about them.

“Should we watch your favorite now?” I ask quietly.  “It is November now.” 

He beams over at me, “I’ll never turn the opportunity down.” 

He steals my plate away from me once I’m done eating, putting all our dishes in the sink. I watch as he just takes care of everything without question, which only encourages those pesky butterflies. I didn’t know who was in control of my body when I stood up, moving over to him at the sink. 

“You can go get comfy if you want,” he tells me, glancing over.

I shake my head at him, “Not yet.” 

His face was visibly lost, grabbing the towel from behind him to dry his hands off when he turned to me. I move into him, wrapping my arms around him. 

“Oh?” he mumbles against me, pulling me tight into him. I soak in the feeling of his arms and chest against me; it’s becoming one of my favorite feelings, and that’s terrifying. 

We just stood there quietly for a moment until I finally said what had been on my mind. 

“Thank you,” I whisper. 

He leans back to look at me, “For what?” 

“Everything,” I start, “You didn’t have to do all this for me, but.. I just really appreciate it.” And you.

“Sometimes we need people, but we don’t know how to ask for that,” He tells me, his calm tone lacing the words. “You deserved this. I couldn’t just send you to be home alone after that.” 

My throat tightens at his words, and I can feel my breathing get heavier; oh, he’s–. 

His hands rub my back a few times before sliding down the back of my arms; he giggles as he says, “C’mon, let’s go so you can laugh at me for loving this movie too much.” 

Sitting back onto the couch but quickly fell into a more comfortable position this time, pulling a blanket over us and tucking his arm back around me. He’s slumped against the arm of the couch, and one leg stretched out so I can lay against his chest. It’s hard to focus on the movie when I’m listening to his heartbeat in one ear and feeling his hands holding onto me, with the subtle little thumb rubs to remind me that he’s still there. 

“This movie really is good, isn’t it?” I mumble. 

His chest vibrates as he giggles, “I’m glad you agree.” 

The warmth coming from him is comforting, but the sudden heaviness of his arms around me makes me look up. He looks so delicate as he’s drifted off to sleep, sweet boy. I snug back into him, just enjoying the occasional little sounds of his breathing.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sound of the door opening startled me awake; I don’t remember falling asleep. I saw Josh and Quinn sliding their shoes off and quietly walking through the apartment. I made eye contact with Josh, sitting up a little to acknowledge him. 

“Hi,” I whisper. 

His grin shines even in the dark, “Well, hello there.” 

“I can wake him up, so you two can do whatever,” I say, not wanting to inconvenience the two of them. 

“Not necessary, love,” he mutters, looking over at his twin, who’s still out cold. “He hardly sleeps before four a.m. Keep him warm, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He shoots me a little wink as he pads off to find Quinn. 

Looking back at this precious sleeping boy, he probably needed the day off. I reach down, grabbing one of the throw pillows that had fallen off the couch. 

“Hey,” I whisper, carefully letting my hand rest on his cheek for a second, “lift your head for me.” Seeing his eyebrows pop up like he didn’t fully hear me.

“Mmm,” is all that comes out of him. His arms pulled me back into him, making me giggle quietly. 

“Jake, let me help,” I laugh out, trying to push myself up again, but he’s tightening his arms around me. Peeking up, he has his eyes closed, but his little grin makes my heart flutter. His silent protest keeps the giggles coming from me. 

“Baby, come on,” slips out; my face warms after calling him that, but his arms relax a bit so I can sit up. “Here, scoot down a little.” He never opens his eyes, but he listens, moving so he should be more comfortable. Slowly, he reaches up, his hand holding my chin and pulling me to him; he gives me one very tired kiss before he mumbles, in the cutest, little, husky tone, “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” I whisper back. I move his leg over so I can squeeze between him and the couch cushions. My leg draped over his, pulling myself into his side and snuggling my face into his neck. His arms tightened around me for a second before I felt his hand run down the back of my head, leaving it there as he kissed my forehead. I can feel his lips smile against me; closing my eyes as a tear sneaks out, hopeful that he doesn’t notice. 

I lay there, listening to his heart slow and his breathing change as he drifts back to sleep. I was just looking at the necklace he had on carefully, trying not to wake him. Occasionally, I softly scratch his chest, just trying to be in the moment, even if the tears are still slowly falling. His hand moved from my side to his stomach, so I decided to take the chance. I grab it and bring it up over his heart with mine, lacing my fingers into his. The sight of it caused a slight smile on my face despite the tears falling this time. 

“Oh, Jacob,” I whisper to him, “what am I supposed to do with you?” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Seventeen

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[catt-leya]

i would love #23 & #41 from your prompts if you can make it work for any one of the days of smutty may because i’m dying just thinking about it

16/05

rick grimes x fem!reader

warnings: subby rick, oral sex, overstimulation

For the tenth time already, you walk past the stupid gate and wait for Rick.

How long can it take to drive into town for some diapers?

As you start your eleventh lap, Daryl grumbles behind you, "Stop it."

Shafting, you look at him over your shoulder, "I'm allowed to walk around however I want, aren't I?"

He rolls his eyes, "Stop thinking about fucking Rosita."

You wince. 

Everyone knows you and Rick are together, and you realize Rick would rather chop off a hand than cheat on you, but there's nothing you can do about your irrational fear.

Rick knows you trust him but your boundaries are pretty damn thin because you've been cheated on more than once in the past.

When he left with Rosita this morning, he was still murmuring in your ear, "I'll be back as soon as I can, and please try not to worry. Trust me."

So much for that.

Now he's been gone for half an eternity and you're getting more and more restless: "Oh, shut up, Daryl. Don't you have anything else to do? Like...I don't know. Carve arrows or something?"

Crossing your arms, you look at him as he quietly mumbles something you don't understand and then disappears.

Now you're alone again with your thoughts.

The thoughts of Rick bending Rosita over a table and burying his cock inside her as he whispers in her ear how gorgeous she is.

The way he presses his full lips to hers and her hands slide over his bare broad shoulders.

Tears of anger gather in your eyes.

Anger, for one, at you for not trusting Rick the way he deserves, and anger at him for being gone so long.

Just as you're about to turn around to continue sulking in your house, you hear the sound of a car.

Immediately you turn back to the gate and see the car that Rick and Rosita left in earlier.

Seconds may pass before the car is inside and Rick gets out from the driver's side.

Seconds in which you stare at him, trying to see if how fresh after fucking he looks.

You search, looking for puffy lips, wispy curls, mismatched clothes and flushed cheeks, but you can't make anything out.

Quicker than Rick can get his blue eyes on you, you're already falling around his neck, crying softly, "You've been gone so long. You've been gone so incredibly long."

If it bugs Rick how clingy and paranoid you are, he never lets on and, like now, never addresses it, "Shhh, I know, honey. I'm sorry."

His warm body feels so familiar in your arms.

You know every bit of his skin inside and out. Know every little scar and every single gray hair.

Rick is familiar and so incredibly exciting.

But what makes him so special is the fact that he gives you whatever you need from him.

In short, he's perfect.

And he's yours.

You lean back a little to kiss him, then murmur against his lips, "Come home with me."

His big hands brush over your hips and his gaze softens, "You don't have to prove anything, honey. I promise it's all good."

Rick knows you so well, he knows exactly what's going on in your head and what you've been thinking about all this time. He knows you so well that he knows exactly that you want to mark your territory. 

Have to mark it.

So he closes his eyes for a minute and then hums in his pleasant deep voice, "Okay, give me a minute."

It's hell watching him organize everything for the day ahead, barely paying attention to you. Understandable but it only makes you more anxious.

It certainly doesn't take a minute, and the longer you stand there staring at his broad back, the more impatient you get. 

So impatient, in fact, that when he gets to Daryl, you just tug him along behind you by the hand. 

You both know he could easily resist and there's nothing you could do, but he allows it and only protests softly, "Wait. Not so fast."

You shake your head and hiss, "I've really waited long enough today, Rick."

With one last glance at the broadly grinning Daryl behind you, you shrug, "And believe me when I say that Daryl already understands and doesn't mind."

Roughly, you drag him into your house and as you place your lips hard on his and tug frantically at the buttons on his shirt, Rick grabs your wrists and, breathing heavily, disengages from his mouth, "Take it easy okay?"

Though you nod, calm is a word you don't know.

So Rick pushes your hands completely to the side and opens his shirt himself.

Each button reveals a little more delicious skin that you'd love to run your tongue over, but you want something else. 

Need something else.

"Get on your knees," at your words his pupils become huge and he harshly brings out, "Yes ma'am," before lowering himself in front of you.

Rick adores you. 

Yes, he really does.

He can't think of anything he wouldn't do for you, anything he wouldn't sacrifice for you.

If you tell him to eat off the floor, he would eat off the floor. 

If you tell him to sleep outside, he'd gladly let you have the whole house to yourself, and if you tell him to get on his knees, he'll get on his damn knees.

Staring down at him with glazed eyes, you reach for your pants, "All day Ive been thinking about how good it would feel to have your head between my legs."

How his curls feel between your fingers and how devotedly he can lick you. God, he's so good at it, your legs start to shake just thinking about it.

Rick just looks up at you and waits for you to give him your okay to press his nose between your legs.

He's waiting, and that's exactly what's so fucking hot.

Slowly, you peel yourself out of your shorts and underwear, which you casually kick aside and then purr softly, "Dont stop. Even if I beg you to."

On his knees, he scoots a little closer to you and asks harshly, "Then how do I know when to really stop?"

Like a dog, you pat his pretty mop of curls, "That's up to you."

God, how greedily he looks at you makes you go weak all over, and when he nods slowly to show you he understands, you say quietly, "Okay."

As he has done hundreds of times before, he then grabs your thighs and forces them apart so he can squeeze you between them with his broad shoulders.

The cool air hits the wet spot between your legs and when Rick also spreads little kisses on the inside of your thighs, you're already whimpering.

You love having your head between your thighs and you know how much Rick loves pleasing you. 

To give you pleasure and to satisfy you.

You wince as he licks your thigh with his tongue, stopping just short of the spot that craves him.

He's teasing you and you know it.

His tongue is inches from your lips and you slide both hands into his gorgeous hair, "Stop teasing me."

Sluggishly, he glances up and repeats, "Yes ma'am."

Gently he places his plump lips wide on your pussy and you wince with a moan.

Rick is good at what he does.

So good that you don't want to thinkḱen about the fact that he must have learned it somewhere.

Holding on convulsively to the kitchen counter with your hands, you look down at the gorgeous man between your legs.

His naked shoulders press against your thighs and you are forced to spread your legs even wider than they already are and because you open up even more, it is easy for him to push the tip of his tongue lightly between your wet walls.

It may only be an inch, but your whole body presses harder against him and you whimper his name hoarsely.

You feel him grinning against your pussy and hiss weakly, "Don't laugh at me."

Rick pulls his tongue out of you and leans back a little to look you in the eye, "Honey, I'm not laughing at you. I'm just proud of myself for letting my name come out of your pretty mouth like that."

You blink and there it is again between your legs.

This time it doesn't wait and pushes his tongue greedily between your twitching walls and immediately your hands fly to his head and you cling to his dark curls.

You lose your balance and Rick wraps his big hands around your thighs to hold you in place as his nose playfully bumps against your clit.

With each of his movements, his beard scrapes across your sensitive skin and your moans grow higher and higher.

More and more pitiful.

He loves hearing your moans and having your fingers in his hair. The way you tug at it and your legs start to shake under his hands.

If he let go of you, you'd just collapse on top of him, so he drills his fingers into your soft thighs and pulls his tongue out of you to gently bite your clit and make you howl as your cum soaks his beard.

In fact, he never has to do much to make you come and that too makes him incredibly proud.

Instead of stopping, though, he does exactly what you asked him to do and continues sucking on your sensitive clit.

Your body trembles and the feeling between your legs alternates between pain and pleasure.

Powerfully he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder and your thigh slides onto his strong back so that he can push his now freed hand between your legs and without warning presses two of his thick fingers into you to continue sucking on your clit.

He stretches you so hard that you tug at his hair to get him away from you, but he's stronger than that and won't budge an inch.

Again he lets his teeth slide over your bundle of nerves and you see only flashes. You squint your eyes and moan harshly, "Rick...oh God..."

That's when his fingertips brush the inside of your walls and unintentionally you come another time.

Hard.

Tears release from your eyes as he still doesn't let go of you and even though that's exactly what you wanted, you cry hoarsely, "Please don't...Rick...I can't take it anymore."

"Hmmm," he doesn't care.

Not one bit.

He doesn't stop.

Not when you cum one more time.

Not when your cum drips from his beard onto the floor.

Not when you cry and beg him to let you go.

You're sensitive and swollen between your legs and you're trying to pull away from him when your fourth orgasm overtakes you and you yelp, "Rick...oh fuck..."

He licks apologetically over your dripping wet pussy, "One more time, honey. I want you to cum for me one more time, yeah?"

It's a question, but before you can answer no, he's sucking on you again and your weak body is held upright only by Rick's strength.

Your whole body hurts.

It hurts so fucking bad.

But the way he moves his fingers inside you makes you moan with pleasure.

Hot tears drip onto Rick's mop of curls, and as you come one last time, your legs give way completely and Rick moves back a bit to catch you in his lap.

You lie in his lap like a doll, shuffling quietly against his bare chest.

Gently, he strokes the back of your head and asks evilly, "Did I overdo it, Honey?"

Crying, you shake your head and bring out, "No."

He really wasn't exaggerating.

Yes, it was a lot, but he did it for you because he's yours.

Because he's yours.

Even his hard cock, which is now drilling into your ass, is proof enough.

Sluggishly you lift your face and push your lips to his ear, "Rick? I think I'm wet enough for you to just fuck me now, don't you?"

Immediately your cock twitches and he hums hoarsely, "Fuck, honey, you've been literally leaking since the first time."

With the words he pushes you off his lap and you can't wait to have his cock inside you instead of his fingers.

Smutty May Masterlist

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[gennyanydots]

I had to let go of you just to get a hold of myself part 5

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader

I had to let go of you just to get a hold of myself masterlist

Jake finds himself the next day in the waiting room at Dr. Jackson’s office. He can’t stop his leg from bouncing. He’s never felt this anxious before going into a session. He’s also never had to do a recap of the previous day’s couples session before.

Jake looks up when his name is called and follows Tim into his office and sits down in the chair across from Tim’s.

“How do you think yesterday went?” Tim asks him once he’s seated.

How the hell should Jake know? He’s not a psychiatrist. He has no idea about any of this stuff. Isn’t that why he’s here?

Jake shrugs, “I guess it went okay. She didn’t cry or yell at me. I kinda expected both.”

“Why did you expect that?” Tim asks.

“Well for all intents and purposes I left her. I left my wife. I know I did. I didn’t mean to leave her but it was the easiest choice and so that’s the one I took.”

Tim jots something down in his notes and looks back up at Jake, “Okay so you left her. Why did you expect her to scream and cry though?”

“Isn’t that what women do when their man leaves them?” Jake asks.

“You wanna play stereotypes now?” Tim asks jokingly. “If you want to play that game then who did you leave your wife for? Because that’s what everyone probably thinks happened.”

Jake grumbles, “I get your point.”

“Your wife showed incredible restraint yesterday and you should be proud of her. I am. I could tell when the video first started she looked like she was going to cry.”

“She’s not a crier. Never has been. Usually if she cries then something is really, really wrong,” Jake explains.

“Says the man who expected his wife to cry,” Tim snickers.

“Ya know what?” Jake says with a laugh.

“Okay, okay. Back on topic. How are you feeling after the session?” Tim asks.

“Okay I guess. Seeing her hurt. Really bad. Pretending she didn’t exist was the way I think I coped with it all and seeing her made it real. Like I know I left her but if I just pretended she wasn’t real then I didn’t hurt anybody but I did. I know I did. Seeing her made it real and I am so fucking sorry I ever did that.”

“Good.”

“What?” Jake asks confused.

“You should feel sorry. I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. You messed up, Jake. You messed up big time and you can’t take it back. That’s not how it works. You can only move on and do better. Remember how sorry you feel right now and use it to do better. Really hone in on that feeling and keep it in the back of your mind all the time. You’re making a conscious effort to do better and the only way you can do that is by acknowledging that you did a shitty job before,” Tim explains.

Jake nods, “Okay so now what happens?”

“Now you continue to put in the work.”

“Then that’s it? I’m cured or whatever?” Jake asks.

“Not sure what you think you needed cured from,” Tim says shaking his head. “There was never anything wrong with you. You weren’t handling your emotions appropriately. Now you work on what you can do to change that. You learn appropriate coping mechanisms. You learn communication techniques. That’s what this is all for. So you can be a functioning adult, Jake.”

“I thought I was?” Jake says confused.

“Functioning adults don’t run away from their wives for years at a time and then don’t pretend to be themselves,” Tim says raising an eyebrow at Jake.

“You didn’t have to point it out like that,” Jake grumbles.

“I did. Gotta get it through your thick skull somehow.”

“It’s a normal skull thank you very much!” Jake says laughing.

“I’m not so sure. I’d have to ask your mama. Speaking of which. Have you thought anymore on reaching out to your family besides your wife?”

“I kinda wanted to make sure we had a better relationship first. I don’t want to take away her support system,” Jake explains.

“That’s very noble of you. I’m sure its hard having the same support system,” Tim says.

“But we don’t. Just because they’re my family doesn’t mean they’re my support system. They’re my wife’s. My support system is here. They’re my team. I don’t need to take her’s. I have my own.”

“That is true but don’t think just because they’re your wife’s support system they aren’t still your family.”

“I know they are. Right now I would just rather focus on my wife more though. She’s who I want back the most. My family will come. It’ll be much easier to talk to them when they don’t hate me for breaking Y/N’s heart.”

“Do you actually think they hate you?” Tim asks.

Jake shakes his head, “No, if anything it’s worse. My parents are probably disappointed in me. They raised me better. I’d probably let my dad kick my ass at this point. My brother-in-law probably wants to. He slipped into the big brother role easily for my wife when her parents kicked her out.”

“Is that Catherine’s husband or Lauren’s?”

“Catherine’s. I don’t know if Lauren is married. When I left she and her steady boyfriend were having a baby girl but I don’t know much past that,” Jake says with a shrug.

Tim hums and jots some things down in his notebook, “Have you thought about what story you’re going to tell for your homework?”

“No. I was trying to think of one before I fell asleep last night but nothing really came to mind. I’m sure I’ll think of something though.”

“Be sure that you do. Wouldn’t want your wife to get a better grade than you,” Tim says with a chuckle.

“Wouldn’t be the first time. She’s always been smarter than me. Smarter than I’ll ever be,” Jake says honestly.

“Has that ever been a problem for you?” Tim asks.

“Oh God no! I love that she’s smarter than me. I love everything about her. I don’t think I realized how much I loved her still until yesterday. I missed her ,of course, but I didn’t realize how much until I saw her. It’s like I woke up for the first time in years and then the realization hit that she’s not here with me and it hurt like hell and I can’t keep living like this,” Jake said as he got up and paced around the room.

“Well we’re working towards you not living like that but it’ll take time,” Tim says with a sigh.

Jake sighs too and sits back down, “I know. I know.”

“Good. Well Jake, our time is up for today but I’ll see you next week. Make sure you think about your homework,” Tim says standing up and walking to the office door.

Jake nods and follows Tim to the door, “I will. See you.” Jake sighs and leaves. He heads out of the office building to his truck. A lot of things running around in his head.

He checks his phone and sees Bob had texted him asking him if he wanted to come over and hang out. He shoots Bob a text back and heads to his house.

When Jake gets there and rings the doorbell he’s met with a squeal of his name and a tiny figure throwing the door open before jumping into his arms excitedly.

“Hello there, munchkin!” Jake says laughing and setting Fiona on his hip.

“Hi Untle Jay! I miss you!” She says wrapping her arms around him.

“I missed you too, princess. Did you have a fun day at preschool today?” Jake asks her walking into the house and waving at Bob who is sitting on the couch wearing a princess crown and holding a tiny cup and saucer.

Fiona hides her face in Jake’s side and mumbles something.

“Baby girl, I didn’t understand a thing you just said,” Jake says sitting down on the couch near Bob and setting Fiona on his lap.

“Thomas kick me at center time so I pushed him and got in trouble,” Fiona mumbled.

Jake looks over at Bob who is trying not to laugh then looks back at Fiona, “Well Fi we can’t be putting our hands on our friends at school. That’s not nice.”

“But he’s not my fwiend!” She says with a pout.

“But that doesn’t mean we can push him! If he kicked you what are you supposed to do?” Bob asks.

“I’m sposed to tell a teacher,” Fiona grumbles.

“Right! And then if he keeps kicking you tell Uncle Jake and he’ll beat up his dad,” Jake loudly whispers to Fiona who giggles.

“Otay!” She says and hops off Jake’s lap and comes back soon after with a cup and saucer for him and hands it to him.

He takes it and thanks her with a grin.

“So Jake how was your session yesterday? I didn’t see you much today to ask,” Bob says to Jake.

“It was fine. Hard. Just seeing her made it hard. Made it real. I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t hurt her anymore. It was plain to see on her face. I didn’t realize how much I hurt myself either. It was kinda like when you’re little and you hold it all together until you see your mom and then you lose it. I wanted to just break down and plead for her to forgive me,” Jake says with a sigh and takes a pretend sip of his pretend tea to appease his pseudo niece.

“That does sound hard. You still glad you’re doing this?” Bob asks taking a pretend sip of his own.

Jake nods while watching Fiona look through her bins of toys.

Fiona finds something and walks over to Jake. It’s a tube of some sort. She opens it and squeezes some of whatever it is onto her hand and starts rubbing it on his face.

“Untle Jay you so pretty now,” Fiona says with a smile.

He chuckles and thanks her. Bob winks at him, “Yeah princess, you made Uncle Jake so pretty very sparkly.”

Jake groaned, “It’s never coming off is it?”

Bob laughs, “Nope.”

Part 6

[mandos-sluts]

The Prisoner's Dilemma

The Mandalorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: There’s a bounty on your head and the Mandalorian Din Djarin picks you up. Boba Fett informs Din of what he does with bounties like you.

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, explicitly non con!! (but reader is into it), fingering, daddy kink, bondage, lots of dirty talk, degradation, exhibitionism kink

A/N: Please don't hesitate to message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list, or add yourself via Taglist sign up!!! Feedback is always very much appreciated <3

PLEASE please heed the warnings!!

Masterlist

Din has been hunting with Boba Fett ever since the Razor Crest was destroyed; they travel from planet to planet together collecting bounties. While he would prefer to work alone, Din doesn’t mind Boba’s company— the two are very similar people. Both are cold, stoic bounty hunters who don't take shit from anyone.

You struggle and resist when Din picks you up. Sending endless punches and kicks at the Mandalorian trying to cuff you. You attempt to flee but to no avail, your strength is nothing compared to his.

He cuffs your hands behind your back and roughly walks you to the ship, maintaining a firm grip on your upper arm as he drags you alongside him.

The first thing you see upon entering the rusty ship is another man in Mandalorian armor. “Ahh what the fuck? She’s your bounty??” Boba says to Din as he tugs you up the ramp of Slave I.

Both men are fully covered from head to toe in beskar. The one handling you is taller than the other, and has a deeper voice.

“Yeah. Where’s yours?” Din responds casually.

“In carbonate.” Boba says nodding to the chamber. ”Damn. You’re lucky, Djarin.”

“Lucky? The price on her head is the same as your bounty’s.” Din replies.

“I'm not talking about the payout. Look at her, man! She’s yours to take.” Boba says locking his stare on your increasingly confused expression.

“What do you mean?” Din says flatly, looking down at you.

Boba takes a deep breath. “Ohhhhh Din, so innocent.” He laughs. “….You get to fuck her!”

Did…. did he just say what you think he said?

Din scoffs. “You fuck your bounties?”

“Well if they look like her! Shit, how could you not?!” Boba takes a step closer to you. “Damn. I've never seen a bounty as pretty as this one.” He says grabbing your chin and lifting your face up.

You’re standing there silently, still in Din’s grasp with your hands clasped behind your back. Din looks down at you and you turn your wide puppy dog eyes up to meet his gaze, anxious to see what he will do with you.

Boba takes a step away from the two of you. “If you don’t fuck her, I will. I’m not letting a pretty thing like that go to waste on my ship.” He pats Din on the back. “C’mon Djarin, you deserve it pal.” Boba says as he exits the room.

You stand there, almost in shock, waiting for the Mandalorian to do or say something. Part of you suspects all of this talk is just some nonsense to intimidate you.

But then after a moment, he finally speaks. His voice is low and rough, tone firm with a hint of condescension. “Well…..you heard him darling. You want me or Boba? I’ll give you the choice.” Din lightly chuckles.

Your heart drops. He can’t be serious. There’s no way bounty hunters are allowed to fuck the bounties they collect. Then again, why would he not, whose gonna stop him? You’re the criminal.

You’re scared, but not as much as you would expect yourself to be. And that’s because your fear is clouded with arousal. Why aren’t you scared shitless? Perhaps because this is lowkey one of your fantasies? And maybe because you’re also incredibly attracted to this big strong Mandalorian manhandling you. Shit.

“Yo— wait, no please don’t.” You say the last part mechanically.

“You want Fett to fuck you?”

“No!”

“Alright.Then I’ll be fucking you, princess. Consider yourself lucky. Fett would make it all about himself, but I'll see to it that your needs are met as well.” Din says softly as he runs one hand through your hair and grabs your waist with the other.

“What? Wait…. I….I….wait– please.” You say, your body trembling underneath his hold.

Din takes a deep breath. “You’re getting fucked baby, you may as well enjoy it.” He says as he grabs your ass with both hands and practically lifts you up, pressing your body flat against him.

“Ah! No. Just– just let me go…. please!” You plead trying to shake free of his clench, your glassy, scared doe eyes staring right into his visor.

“Ha. Keep struggling, sweetheart.” Din pushes his helmet right against your ear as he tightens his grip on your ass. “Just turns me on more.” He whispers in your ear.

“Mmph!” You squeal out, shaking your shoulders as he spins you around and pushes your torso down, bending you over a table.

One of his hands is on the back of your neck, forcing you down on the metal surface. The other is on your waist, right near your cuffed hands. Your ass is waggling in the air as you try to resist his advances and rid yourself of his grabby hands.

You can barely move, however, under his sedulous grip. He shoves your pants down, leaving you bent over the table with your ass in the air in nothing but the unfortunately racy thong you’re wearing.

Your whole body shudders as you feel two of his thick fingers trace your clothed folds.

“Hahahahahahaha…..” Din maniacally laughs as he feels your gooey wetness through the fabric. “Nowwwww I see. Now I get it. You fuckin like this, you little slut.” He growls in your ear. “Pfft. I was gonna say, the fight you’re putting up is pathetic, but now I see why.”

Din isn’t wrong. He has seen you actually struggle and resist when he was capturing you, and the weak shaking of your shoulders and your little pouting is clearly not everything you have.

“Damn, I’ll give it to ya princess, you had me fooled for a while.” Din coos as he grinds his unbelievably large bulge against your ass.

“N-no! I don’t want this!” You contend. Your jolting only serves to make him shove you against the table harder, essentially inhibiting all your movements.

“Baby girl, your pussy is fucking sopping wet, drop the act.” Din scoffs. “You are literally leaking through these panties.” He says as he slips his long thick finger underneath your soaked underwear, running it along your slick. Your whole body shutters under his touch as pressure darts in your core.

“I—”

“Tell me, pretty girl.” Din interrupts. “Have you ever had a cock as big as mine?”

He loosens his grip on your neck, allowing you to crane your neck and look back at the monster cock he is rubbing up and down your glazed valley.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, unsure how he is going to fit in you.

Din slaps your ass. “Answer me.” He commands in a deep tone.

“Ah!” You cry. “No. N-never.”

“Yeah?” Din purrs right before he shoves his entire length into you.

You scream out. “Ah!!” Never have you been opened so much before. He lets his cock sit in you a moment once it’s fully engulfed, leaving you stuffed to the brim with his member.

“Holy shit.” Din breathes out. “Oh fuck yes, this is some good pussy.”

With that he starts rocking his hips back and forth, driving his massive girth into you each time. Your mouth falls open as disgusting moans fall out of your throat. His grip still harsh around your neck as he holds you down hard, pushing his hips against yours and delivering you the best pleasure you’ve ever felt.

“Ha. Knew it.” You hear Din chortle behind you.

You open your eyes and realize that you are pushing your hips back into his, trying to pound him even harder into your G-spot. You curse at yourself for being this brazen with your actions and not hiding your pleasure and yearning better. At this point, you know you’re not fooling him, but you’re not ready to completely give in.

“Now— now that my cock’s in you, you gonna finally behave? Be a— a good girl for me, huh? You little whore.” Din pants as he plows into your hole.

Your cheek is pressed hard against the table and you bite your bottom lip, trying to muffle your lewd moans as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Din chuckles at your pathetic attempt to remain silent. “Don’t respond and I won’t let you cum. Which— well…. you don’t even want to cum, right? Cuz— cuz you don’t want this, right?”

Your eyes shoot open. “Wait….N-no! Ple– please!!!” You cry, turning your head to look back at him.

“Mmmf, please what?” Din growls.

“Please….ah— please let me cum!” You finally relent.

“Ahhhhhh there it is. Keep beggin’, baby. You’re gonna have to earn it after being such a naughty little bitch.” He remarks as he moves both hands to your hips and pulls you into him each time he drives into you.

“Please! Please let me c-cum daddy!” You cry. “I wanna cum so badly, I wanna— wanna cum all over your cock. Please, please daddy!”

“That’s it. Look at you being so obedient now. Ha. Looks like I've fucked the good girl right into ya.” He says, slowing down his thrusts. Din bends over so that his helmet is right against the side of your head and whispers in your ear. “You like playing an innocent little brat don’t you? Pretending tha— that you don’t want to get fucked. But you’re such a dirty fuckin slut, you just couldn’t resist my big dick could ya? You— you’re just too fuckin desperate to get your tight little hole stuffed full of cock. Isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes! Fuck! Your cock hits me— hits me so deep! S-stretches me out so good!” You whine out as he thrusts into you.

Din spanks your ass again, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core and making your cunt clench around him.

“Oof. I felt that. Ya like being spanked too? Fuck. You are a whore.” Din chuckles.

Your moans have turned into downright vulgar screams that you have no control over. He’s pounding into you so hard that your vision has gone blurry from the tears falling out of your eyes.

“Gah. You look so f-fuckin pretty when you cry baby.” Din mutters.

You hear a bang at the door and panic momentarily.

“Goodness, Djarin! It sounds like you're torturing her in there.” You hear Boba yell on the other side of the wall.

“Nahhh, I’m taking good care of her, isn’t that right sweetheart?” Din calls out, leaning over to your face.

“Y-yes!” You scream in response.

Din then grabs your shirt and for a moment tries to pull it over your head. Upon realizing that your cuffed hands pose an obstacle, he rips it right off your body, causing you to jump a bit.

“Come see for yourself, pal.” Din offers to Boba after discarding the ripped fabric on the floor.

The door slides open and Boba is met with the crude scene of you bent over a table, completely naked with your hands cuffed behind your back, mouth open wide with tears rolling down your face, and Din standing behind you, holding your hips tightly while plowing into you.

Boba stands in amazement. “…Holy fuck.”

“Say hi to Boba, pretty girl.” Din orders.

“H-hi sir.” You manage to spit out, lifting your head slightly.

“Shit. You hit the jackpot, Djarin. How’d you get this little one to submit?”

“Ohh, she wasn’t hard to tame. Ah— Needy whores like her never are.” Din responds while continuing to drive into you.

“Well, bye princess.” Boba says looking straight into your watering eyes. “Be good now. Din can get mean if he doesn’t get his way.” He remarks before existing.

When the door closes, Din yanks you up by your hair, spins you around, and lifts you onto the table. You’re sitting straight up on the table with your hands still clasped behind your back, a fully clothed Din standing between your legs, holding your trembling thighs wide open as he sinks his length back into you. You instinctively wrap your legs around him.

He grabs a rough hold of your face, hooking his thumb in your agape mouth while the rest of his long hand wraps around your head, forcing your watering eyes to look right at him as he pounds up into you. Strands of your hair stick to your sweaty face as you’re unable to brush them away.

His other hand trails down your sweating skin to your clit and starts drawing tiny circles on it. You wish you could wrap your arms around his neck and hold on tight to him as he drives you over the edge.

“Alright, pretty girl, cum for me. Show me what you’ve got, baby, come on.” Din encourages, swiping his thumb over your swollen clit.

Your cuffed hands are in tight white fists with your nails digging into your palms. Your whole body tenses up and your back arches as you squeal out. Din’s grasp on your face stops your head from falling back as your orgasm shatters through your body.

Din is hardly pulling his length out of you while thrusting fast and deep inside of you, feeling your cunt flutter on his cock makes him moan and you can tell he’s going to cum soon.

Just then he lifts you off the table and shoves your head down. “On your knees and open wide, I’m gonna cum in that pathetic pretty mouth.” Din breathes out as he rapidly strokes his cock over your face.

You sit up tall on your knees and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out while looking up at him with wide watery eyes. Din grunts as he grabs a hold of your hair and tilts your head up, positioning his cock right over your quivering mouth. Warm streams on white cum shoot from his length and fall on your lips and tongue. He keeps pumping it as he sprays the rest of your face with his seed.

“Damn baby, I thought you were hot before, but you look even better on your knees with your face covered in cum, sweat, and tears.” Din remarks while putting his softening member in his pants.

You slowly rise from the ground, your legs shake and almost give out as you bring your self to your feet. You’re panting and strands of your hair are stuck to your gooey face, as your cuffed hands prevent you from wiping your face.

You stand there awkwardly and silent, naked and disgusting as Din buckles his belt.

“Your pussy is so fucking good. I think I'm gonna have to keep you.”

“W-wait, what?”

“Yeah. I can't turn you in. Can't let a cunt like yours go to waste.”

“Bu— but then you won’t get paid.”

“Oh, having you around to fuck at my leisure is worth way more than the bounty on your head sweetheart.”

You gulp. “I thought—”

“Come on princess.” Din interrupts. “You can either stay with me, or go rot in jail. What’ll it be?

“But I— I….” You have completely forgotten about the foul fate that awaited you. You haven’t had time to think about what would happen once you were turned over. You have no idea of what life is like in a New Republic prison, nor did you have any knowledge how long you would be incarcerated.

“....I wanna stay with you.” You say softly looking down at your feet.

“That's what I thought.” Din says walking up to you. “Get yourself cleaned up baby girl.” He spins your nude body around and unlocks your hand cuffs, nodding in the direction of the fresher. “I’m going on a supply run and then it’s my turn on the flight deck. And my cock could use some warming while I pilot the ship.”

*********************************

Masterlist

*********************************

Taglist:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75 @tacticalsparkles @kenoobiwan @shark-s @theamuz @blackrose8425 @beskarboobs @smutslutz @princess-djarinn @spideysimpossiblegirl @riot-rotten @javierpinme @hypnoash @anaaaispunk

[mikkomacko]

So not sure if you’re going to understand this but here’s my idea: the team not knowing that the reader is dating both Bucky and Steve (Stucky) and they confront her and say some awful things like she’s using them, a cheating wh*re etc. and she just starts crying and runs and locks herself in their room (or whatever you’d like). Then Stucky comes back or out from somewhere looking for her and then they ask the team and the team tells them that she was “cheating” on both of them with each other and then they’re like no we’re all dating each other and the team feels all bad and you can end it how you want lol. You don’t have to do this and sorry if it’s bad.

A/n: Sorry it took so long! Hope it's ok! <3

~

Two Avengers dating would cause enough gossip in itself, but three Avengers? Two of which have been best friends since the 40s? She can't imagine what kind of reaction that would get out of Sam or Nat who have always teased Steve and Bucky about being really good friends.

So when y/n, Bucky, and Steve made their relationship official, they kept it as low-key as possible. Anything beyond cuddling was reserved for the privacy of their rooms, flirting had to be subtle, and all dates were far from the Avengers compound.

They just had to pray they could follow the rules and keep their hands to themselves when others were around.

~

Drumming her fingers on the folder, y/n heads up HR to submit her latest mission report. It was simple surveillance mission, nothing exciting to report on but she'd been gone for over a week and wanted to get the report in asap so it could be done with. Dropping it off on the incoming desk, she promptly turns on her heel to head to lunch but is stopped just outside of the doorway by a hand on her bicep. She's tugged into the hidden corner before she can even react, two strong arms caging her against the cool wall.

Bucky, dressed for a training session, stands before her, blue eyes sparkling and lips smiling. Immediately, her guard falls, lips widening into a smile that reflects the same love shining through Bucky's.

"Careful Barnes," she teases, "next time I won't be so kind about ya pawing at me."

He clicks his tongue. "Wouldn't be pawing if you'd come to see me as soon as you got back."

"Paperwork waits for no one. Not even Cap and Sarge."

He sighs playfully. "Damn doll, that hurts. Think ya should kiss it better."

So she does. Cupping his jaw between two soft palms, y/n seals their mouths together in a tender kiss, completely blind to Bruce and Tony who have just caught sight of them from down the hall.

~

Bucky heads down to the gym and y/n heads to room to clean up before lunch, ignoring his pleas for her to join him. She's technically on recovery from her last mission and she's definitely going to milk that for a day off. She's approaching her door when one just down the hall opens, a familiar blond head of hair coming into view.

She pauses, leaning her shoulder against the doorway and smiles at him. "Hey Cap, fancy seeing you here."

He lifts his head, soft blue eyes meeting hers and he smiles that cute little smirk only Steve Rogers could smile. "Hey, heard you got back early this morning."

"Yeah, way early." She laughs, tilting her chin up as he moves closer.

"How'd it go?"

He stops in front of her, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head. It's his typical go-ahead-I'm-listening stance but by the way he's eyeing her mouth she knows he doesn't actually want to hear it right now. Steve always tries to hide the fact that he's just as clingy as Bucky.

"Is that really what you're going to ask me, Rogers? After being gone for so long you want my mission run down right now?"

He chuckles, dipping his head and lightly shaking it. "No not really."

"So what's your real question?"

Bashful, he meets her eyes again. "Can I have a hello?"

Y/n laughs, butterflies fluttering in her chest as she rises on her tiptoes to kiss him. He gently grips her waist, pulling her just the slightest bit closer and humming in content. She throws her arms around his neck, fingertips shifting into the hair at the base of his neck, once again too caught up in her boyfriend to notice Nat and Sam have just spotted them from the end of the corridor.

~

"You'll never believe what we just saw!" Sam shouts, hightailing it into the kitchen with Natasha hot on his heels. Bruce and Tony both startle in their seats at the table, water sloshing over the edge of Bruce's mug.

"Nuh-uh, we're first." Tony says, shaking his head.

"No we are." Sam insists, Tony opening his mouth to continue the argument but Natasha cuts him off.

"Rogers and y/n are together."

And that makes Tony and Bruce pause. Sam whoops proudly, smirking at the two as they share looks of confusion.

"Steve and y/n?" Bruce confirms, eyebrows pinching together when Nat nods firmly.

Tony sighs. "Well that puts us in a bit of pickle because we saw Barnes with his tongue down her throat."

Sam's jaw drops. "What? When?"

"Earlier today!" Bruce exclaims, motioning towards the HR department. "She was dropping off paperwork and he just grabbed her and kissed her."

"Well we just watched Steve pin her against a door and kiss her not even ten minutes ago." Nat exclaims, anger building up in her veins. "Which means we've got a problem."

Sam turns to her, just as angry. "Damn right we do!"

~

Bottom lip between her teeth, y/n attempts to hide the giddy smile that's been plastered on her face since her reunion with her boys. It's a weak attempt because she's practically as bright as a ray of sunshine but she doesn't really care. She's happy. She's so incredibly happy and she wants it to last forever.

Unfortunately for her, the feeling is cut short far too soon because as soon as she enters the kitchen, 4 pairs of eyes are glaring at her.

"Hey everyone," she says tentatively, slowing to a stop. "what's going on?"

Sam scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why don't you tell us what's going on?" He says coldly, "You know besides you macking on our friends."

Macking on his friends? Oh god, Steve and Bucky! They found out about their relationship...

Her jaw drops, cut-off guard. "Wait! I can explain-"

"Cheaters don't get an explanation." Nat cuts off, eyes mean and piercing. Y/n heart sinks into her stomach. Cheating? She'd never cheat in her life, especially not on Bucky and Steve.

"Cheating? I'm not-"

Tony rises from his seat. "Save it y/n. We know you're cheating on Bucky and Steve with each other. How could you do that? They're like brothers and your just using them-"

"No I'm not!" She insists, panicking under the hateful gazes. "You guys don't understand. Just let me-"

"No!" Sam cuts off. "Bucky and Steve have both gone through so much. Do you realize how difficult it must have been for them to open up to you? And you thew it all away. You hurt them. You're a bitch y/n, full honestly."

Tears sting her eyes. Sam's never said anything like that to her let alone anyone they know. He's always been so kind and welcoming so to hear such hurtful words from him has her stunned. She can't even think of anything to say to defend herself.

"Y-you really think that lowly of me?" She sniffles, "That I would do something like that?"

"We saw it, y/n." Banner responds, nose scrunched in disgust. "Now get outta here before we throw you out."

Insulted and insecure, she shakes her head. "I can't believe you all." Then she turns on her heel, running to the safety of her room.

~

Bucky's spotting Steve on the bench press when the foursome of Avengers walk in, somber looks on their faces.

"Steve," Bucky says, gaining his attention. Immediately the super soldier is setting down his weights, sitting up to look at their friends.

"What's going on? Is someone hurt?" Steve asks, rising to his feet. Sam shakes his head, smiling sympathetically.

"No one's hurt," he assures "but we've got something to tell you."

Bucky swallows nervously, something in him going on high alert. He knows that this is about y/n, that something's happened and it makes him anxious. Where is she?

"What?" Bucky asks, noticing the lingering anger in Nat's eyes.

"It's y/n," she says "she-"

"She what?" Bucky interrupts quickly, readying himself to sprint upstairs.

"She's cheating," Tony says, eyes flickering between the two men. "On you two. With each other."

Oh, Bucky wasn't expecting that. He turns to Steve, the two sharing a silent conversation between themselves. They know? Looks like it pal. How'd that happen? I told you to be careful...

"Don't worry, we already gave her a piece of our minds-"

"You what?!" Steve suddenly asks, finally realizing what they're saying. They think y/n cheated on them because they don't know they're all three dating each other. And they confronted her about it.

"What did you say?" Bucky asks lowly.

"The truth," Sam says proudly. "that she's a bitch for using you both."

Before anyone can react Bucky is rushing towards the doors, abandoning his belongings in favor of checking on y/n. Steve doesn't mind, knowing that when it comes to being emotional and open, Bucky is typically the one she leans on. He's good at being a comforting shoulder.

"Oh god Sam," Steve sighs. "Y/n isn't cheating-"

"Yeah-"

"No she's not!" He shouts, startling them. "She's not. For the past few months we've been dating. The three of us."

The silence is almost amusing if Steve wasn't too busy thinking of his girl upstairs, upset.

"Like a throuple?" Bruce asks, confused.

Steve nods shortly. "Thanks for accusing her instead of talking it out. Appreciate it." He says icily, pushing around them. Stalking towards the exit, he calls over his shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a girl to go check on."

~

Bucky has wrapped her up like a burrito in the comforter from his bed on the floor of her room, leaning back against the side of the matress with her sat between his parted thighs. Her eyes are still wet and swollen but she's giggling through her sniffles, a spoon hanging out of her mouth and a bowl of soup in her lap. They both look up when he enters the room, Y/n smiling shyly and Bucky relieved.

"We ok sweetheart?" He asks, waiting for her nod before looking to Bucky.

"We're good Steve," he promises, sweeping her hair over her shoulder with his hand and brushing his fingers through it. "She was just frustrated. Didn't know they could think she'd do something like that."

"That's because she wouldn't," Steve says firmly, sitting on the floor next to them. "and we know that y/n. We know you'd never hurt us like that."

"I love you Steve," she swears, resting her head on his shoulder. "And I love you Buck. Thanks for doing this for me."

"Course doll," Bucky says, kissing the side of her head. "Don't have to thank us for loving you." Steve hums his agreement.

"But..."Bucky quickly adds, "you can thank me after I beat Sam's ass for calling you that."

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. "Buck..." He says warningly but he doesn't even finish the scolding thought because their boyfriend's threat has made y/n smile and that's all they could ever ask for.

[fanficshiddles]

My Sweet Rose, Chapter 1

From the imagine on imagine-Loki here.

Summary: Rosie got a job working at The Avengers tower with her cousin, Pepper. She’s only been there a week when Loki comes live there, to make up for his past deeds in New York. But this brings a lot of problems for Rosie.

Loki was her Daddy Dom. Who vanished one day without a word, leaving her completely broken and lost.

Note: Daddy/little dynamic & Flashbacks will be in Bold. I’m not sure how long this story will be, I’m thinking no more than 5 chapters though. But I saw the imagine and omg I love it, had to do something with it. Haven’t written anymore of it yet but just HAD to share the first chapter so far, oops! lol. 

-

Rosie had been working and living in the Avengers tower for a week now, it was going really well. And it was helping to keep her mind occupied, getting her back on her feet after such a rough year.

She was a PA for Stark, and the other Avengers if they needed anything too. It was helping her cousin, Pepper out a lot. As Stark was very demanding nowadays and the others were becoming that way too.

It was also good for Rosie. She’d had a really tough year. She met someone a few years ago in a BDSM club, it had been her first time there after spending months building up the courage to go. She was a little, and had been wanting to find someone that she could feel safe with to explore that side of her.

She met a man, who was charming and handsome. Kind, funny. They fell in love, or so she thought anyway. He was the perfect Daddy Dom for her, teaching her everything and looking after her. She adored and loved him so much. Which is why when one day he just vanished, it was all the harder for her.

He just never returned after saying he had to go home to visit his family, who lived in Iceland apparently. But he did that regularly and always returned to her. But not that time. To say she was heartbroken when there was not even a call or a text from him explaining why was an understatement.

His name was Loki. And it became clear what happened a few months later after his disappearance, she saw him on the news. Loki, the God Of Mischief, was trying to take over the world. She couldn’t believe it and thought she was dreaming when she realised it had was her Loki. He looked different in the heavy armour, he looked scary.

But she thought no wonder he left her, he was a God and a Prince after all. What would he have wanted with her in the first place anyway?

She had tried a couple of times to date someone else, but never made it past the first date. As they just… weren’t him. No matter how often she tried to just forget about him. It was difficult.

She’d fallen into a downward spiral, not even able to go to work. So she had lost her job and was on benefits for a while. She became really anxious and nervous.

But here, in the tower, she was trying to turn herself around again. It had been one man, even if he had been her first true love, in her heart anyway. She knew she would heal, in time. Even if it had been over a year.

Rosie had been so engrossed in sorting out some paperwork for Tony that she never noticed the newcomer coming into the kitchen. She barely even registered Thor introducing her to him. ‘This is Rosie, our PA, she’s new here.’

Not until she heard an all too familiar voice responding that sent shivers down her spine and sent her heart racing.

‘Rosie… My sweet Rose?’

There was only one person who had ever called her that.

Slowly she looked up, eyes widening, standing before her was Loki.

‘Oh my sweet Rose, you’ve done Daddy so proud.’ Loki purred gently as he cradled her in his lap.

She felt so safe and secure, curled up against him as he wrapped a blanket around her naked body. Knowing how cold she always got after they’d played together quite so intensely.

Loki rocked her back and fore softly as he ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her. She was trembling a bit after her orgasms, Loki had pushed her almost past her limit, but he knew. He always knew when to stop at the right time.

He was an intense Daddy, and could be really strict at times. But he was fair and ever so kind. He had his goofy moments and was extremely playful too, which she loved. He was never angry with her, always calm and collected. Even when she misbehaved, not that that happened often.

She clung to his shirt so tightly, never wanting to let go. Loki had to carefully remove her hand from his shirt just so he could change them into a different position, getting them both under the blanket so he could have her snuggled up next to him. He knew she would fall asleep soon.

‘Daddy.’ She whispered quietly, sounding so vulnerable.

‘Yes, my little one?’ Loki asked, engulfing her small hand in his large one.

‘Can you sing to me?’

Loki smiled. ‘Of course, my sweetling.’

He began singing to her in Asgardian, but he had told her before it was Icelandic. She had no reason not to believe him, especially since he told her he’d grown up there with his parents.

But he had a beautiful voice, she always loved to hear him sing.

She felt so loved as he she drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice. She faintly remembered a gentle kiss on her forehead just before she fell asleep.

Thor was confused at their interaction, especially as Rosie said nothing at first. Just stared at Loki in utter disbelief.

‘No…’ She shook her head and took a step backwards. ‘You… You don’t get to call me that anymore.’ She said quietly, her voice trembling as tears came to her eyes.

‘Rosie? What’s wrong, did he hurt you?’ Clint asked upon seeing the reaction.

Rosie grabbed the pile of paperwork off the table beside her and she ran off out of the kitchen, with tears falling down her face.

Clint turned to Loki. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do.’ He snapped at him.

‘I have nothing to explain to you, Hawk.’ Loki snarled.

Natasha and Pepper saw Rosie running out of the kitchen in floods of tears, they ran after her into her room. Natasha managed to grab the door before it closed on them.

‘Rosie? Rosie, what’s wrong?’ They both asked as they rushed in to her.

Rosie threw the papers on her bed and she started pacing back and fore, shaking and crying with her arms wrapped around herself. Pepper grabbed her and pulled her down to sit on the bed.

‘Rosie, please speak to us.’ She pleaded with her cousin as Natasha sat at the other side of her.

‘It… It’s him…’ She sobbed.

‘Who? Loki? Did he scare you? I told him not to be an asshole to anyone.’ Natasha said angrily.

‘He… He’s the one. Who I dated before.’ She blurted out, making Pepper and Natasha go silent in shock.

‘But… how?’ Pepper asked.

‘I met him one night in a club. And we dated for eleven months. I was in love with him, utterly and completely. I thought he was with me too. But then he just vanished and never came back one day. Then a few months later, I saw him on the TV… I didn’t tell anyone it was him, because I thought no one would believe me anyway. And what did it matter? It wouldn’t change anything.’ Rosie blurted out between crying.

‘Oh, Rosie. I wish you had told me.’ Pepper pulled her into a hug and cradled her head against her. ‘It’s ok, shhh, shhh. It’s going to be ok.’

Natasha rubbed her back softly. ‘If we had known, we would have warned you he was coming here. I’m so sorry.’

Rosie shook her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘No… It’s my fault, I should have told you. I just… it’s a shock to see him face to face.’

Natasha and Pepper nodded in understanding.

They stayed with her for a little while, then when she told them she was ok and was going to take a shower before bed, they left her to it.

But it ended up being the longest shower ever. She kept thinking about Loki and what they had together before.

Kept thinking of when they first met…

Rosie was super nervous when she walked into the BDSM club. But after months of talking herself into it, she finally had the courage to do it.

She didn’t dare tell any of her friends what she was into or what she was doing, perhaps foolish in a way as no one knew where she was. And she was on her own. But she was too embarrassed to tell anyone. Her friends wouldn’t understand.

She relaxed a tiny bit once she was there, noticing other people on their own as well. Getting a few drinks down her helped with her nerves too.

Some of the people she spoke to briefly were really nice. She met a lovely couple at the bar who asked if it was her first time there. They told her if she needed anything to feel free to ask them, not to be shy. That everyone there was really nice and friendly.

There were various demos on that she watched, there was a lot more to some scenes than met the eye. It really made her realise how on sites such as Fetlife and others, it was easy to get sucked into the wanna-be-Dom’s who likely had no idea what they were doing. Or how much safety came into it all.

‘Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you but I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a drink?’ A beautiful voice came from beside her when one of the demos on aftercare just finished.

Rosie turned and her breath was taken from her as she gazed up at an incredibly tall and handsome man.

‘I… I… Yeah, I would like that, thank you.’ Rosie stammered out, nodding over enthusiastically.

He grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth as he put his hand out towards her. ‘My name is Loki.’ He introduced.

‘I’m Rosie.’ She smiled up at him and put her hand into his. That’s when she noticed his gorgeous hands, so big and he had such long fingers. She blushed hard when he raised her hand up and he kissed the back of it, making her skin tingle like crazy.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Rosie.’ He said charmingly.

Loki gave her his arm and led her over to a free table near the bar. She was really nervous, and Loki could tell. But he soon had her at ease, just chatting away to her calmly and making her laugh almost straight away. She slowly began to relax in his presence.

‘Is this your first time here?’ He asked after buying them both another drink.

‘Is it that obvious?’ She cringed, making him chuckle.

‘Kind of. You did look a bit like a deer in the headlights. But that’s normal for first timers.’ Loki winked at her.

‘So, I’m guessing that means you’ve been here before?’

‘It does.’ He nodded. ‘Not often, it’s probably my fourth visit. Mainly just trying to meet new people, meet anyone that may potentially be interested in a Daddy Dom.’

Rosie’s eyes widened and she suddenly fell shy again as she looked down at her glass and swallowed hard. Loki raised an eyebrow, instantly realising that she was a little. He suspected she was a sub, but hadn’t been sure about the little aspect or not.

Loki leaned forward over the table towards her a little more. ‘Let me take a quick stab in the dark here… But I am presuming that you are a little?’

Her mouth opened and closed again. Then she just opted for nodding in response instead of trusting her voice to actually work.

Loki smiled softly. ‘Nothing to be shy about, sweetheart. That’s why lots of people come to these clubs, to meet their person.’

‘I… I guess so.’ She agreed.

They continued to talk for over an hour, not much about BDSM which Rosie found quite pleasant. He didn’t seem to want to jump straight in so quickly, which in turn made her trust him more and relax.

At the end of the night, Loki handed over a small card with his number on it. ‘There’s absolutely no pressure at all. But I’ve really enjoyed my night with you, Rosie. I would love to take you out on a date, perhaps out for lunch Saturday? But there’s no pressure, I don’t need an answer right now. Just text or call me to let me know. But if I don’t hear from you, that’s ok too. I totally understand.’

Rosie’s heart was racing. Could he get any more considerate? He wasn’t pressuring her at all, not asking for her number. Not even expecting her to contact him if she didn’t want to go on a date with him. Not even needing an answer straight away, what a gentleman.

Loki walked her outside the club and hailed a taxi for her, he even paid in advance for her, not taking no for an answer.

‘I just want to make sure I know you’ll get home safely. And I can’t help it, it’s the protective Daddy in me.’ He shrugged and chuckled, making her giggle shyly.

‘Thank you, Loki.’ She smiled widely at him as she got into the taxi and he closed the door for her once she was in.

He waved her off and she couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Of course, she did text him the following morning to say she would love nothing more than to go on a date with him on Saturday. If that was still what he wanted, too.

Loki replied within a minute, with a time and a place for their first date.

-

‘How DARE you!’ Pepper roared at Loki and launched for him, slapping him across the face. It barely made him flinch, but he clenched his jaw as he glared at her.

Everyone was surprised at Pepper’s outburst.

‘Woah, what did he do?’ Bruce asked.

‘HE is the one that broke my cousin’s heart. She was head over heels in love with you, asshole. Then you just disappeared on her, left her alone without even an explanation. No note, nothing.’ She snarled at him.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I did what was right. To protect her. She was better off without me.’

‘You did NOT do what was right. You have no idea what you’ve put her through this past year, how heartbroken she was. Still is!’ Pepper screeched.

Loki faltered. ‘Still is? Did she not find another, she’s a beautiful, incredible woman. How could she not find ano’

‘You are such a fucking idiot!’ Pepper screeched angrily and so wanted to slap him again, but she knew it was pointless.

The guys around him all put their face into their hands.

‘What?’ Loki asked, looking around.

‘That’s a low blow, man. Not even leaving her a note.’ Said Tony.

‘I… I thought I was doing the right thing.’ Loki said, looking at Thor.

Thor nodded. ‘I did not realise that your Rose was this Rosie… But yes, Loki thought he was doing right by her. He was in love with her, adored her. Never shut up about her. But when he discovered his true heritage on a short visit home, he decided not to go back to her. In fear of hurting her.’ Thor explained.

Pepper ran her hands down her face.

‘Well, you failed on that. You probably hurt her more by not at least saying you were over. You have no idea what she’s been through this last year.’ Pepper shook her head in disgust at Loki.

The team all murmured between them and left the room, leaving Loki with Thor.

For the first time in a long time, Thor saw his real brother back. He saw true emotion on his face again, sorrow and guilt.

‘I… I did not mean to hurt her.’ Loki said, still a bit confused. ‘I loved her, Thor… I do love her. I never stopped thinking about her, never loved another.’ He whispered.

Thor sighed and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. ‘I know, brother. I know.’

Loki thought back to the first time she had called him Daddy. How much it made his heart happy that she trusted and wanted him so much…

Rosie and Loki were snuggling on the sofa together, watching some cartoons that she loved. Loki wasn’t overly fond of them, but it made her happy so he always obliged. He was just happy to have her on his lap, comfortable and relaxed in his arms. Where she belonged.

He was lightly stroking her back underneath her top, making her skin tingle. She was in utter heaven, and Loki couldn’t get enough of just simply touching her. He needed touch in some way, whether he was just holding her hand or had the tips of his fingers on her skin, he needed and craved the intimacy with her.

Loki’s fingers trailed a bit too far to her side and up a little, making her squirm and giggle.

‘Daddy, that tickles!’ She laughed and tried to grab his hand to stop him.

But he had already stopped, freezing at what she said. That was the first time she had called him that, even in little space.

The biggest smile spread across his face and he buried his face into her hair and squeezed her tightly to him.

‘Sorry, my sweet little one. I forgot how ticklish you are.’ He purred.

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (Twelve)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, angst.

Notes: I know it’s short but here is chapter 12. It’s mostly just sad so please don’t hate me! Enjoy the chapter:) Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope @lecavivien @fancycollectormoon @mawwnsterr @siredsong @happyhrsme

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

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

The cold chill you feel is either from the apartments running AC or your rattling nerves…it’s incredibly hard to tell which. You may feel like your insides are turning against you but your exterior is oddly calm. Being back in the quiet, chilly apartment with Taehyung feels like you are trapped in another dimension, where you are viewing yourself outside of your own body.

You both sit here in silence. The quiet is loud though, it booms and echoes and has you covering your ears for a moment. You aren’t sure what Taehyung is thinking but it must be a lot. He hasn’t even parted his lips as if words might escape him…no, it is more as if his mouth has been sewn shut. You aren’t much better though, you admit. But you realize the one who has to have courage here is you.

“Taehyung.” You finally say his name, the soft, calm tone of your voice is enough to make him flinch in guilt. “Tell me everything.” You request quietly. “Tell me why Hana is so attached. What keeps Hana from giving up? I want the truth.”

Taehyung raises his head to look at you, you see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps down his ever growing guilt. You just want the truth, the story, the explanation but he is struggling to find words. He feels the back of his eyes beginning to burn, he feels his chest tightening and his palms growing with pools of sweat. He hates this. He hates the truth, he hates the story and he hates the explanation. But he knows you deserve it. And he himself deserves to say it so he can face it and let it go…if it is that easy.

Taehyung wipes his hands on his jeans, repeating the action as he hopes they dry soon but they don’t. Not when he is this nervous, this anxious, this panicked. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. He keeps saying these words over and over in his mind. He loves you.

“I told her I loved her.” He finally says, the words tumbling out of his mouth. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes falling to his hands.

Your brows immediately pinch together, your confusion growing and growing. You aren’t really sure that you heard him correctly. You aren’t really sure you want to have heard him correctly.

Taehyung slams his eyes shut as he grits his teeth together.

“But it isn’t like that, I promise you.”

You blink repeatedly, your eyes trying to find his but he avoids your gaze. You quickly shake your head and swallow your spit.

“You what?” you finally mumble.

Taehyung lifts his head higher and finally looks at you properly. His eyes are wet with tears, his lip trembling but he stops it by biting down on it.

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes again, a few tears slipping past the closed lids. “You don’t understand…” he tries to say. “It isn’t like that. I just…fuck, I really…”

“No excuses. Just an explanation.” You gulp. “Tell me exactly what happened.” You feel your chest closing in on you as you speak but you try to remain calm. “Everything.”

Taehyung is mad. He’s hurt. He’s betrayed. Your silence continues to destroy him. But is ‘mad’ even a good enough word to describe this rage that is building so fiercely inside him? Every day that passes he continues to spiral into a deep, deep pit. He feels helpless as soon as he opens his eyes, starting a new day. He feels small and vulnerable in those first few seconds after waking up. He doesn’t want to wake up anymore.

It’s gotten that bad, hasn’t it? That the thought of existing in this life makes him feel weak and useless. He can’t do this anymore. Who is he? Who was he? You know, before you. His body grows weaker every day, his mind withering away into dust. He doesn’t remember. The island feels like a dream now, and he just wants to sleep.

It’s been months of silence. It’s been hell. An eternal hell. What did he do? Why is this happening to him? Why is he going through this? Don’t you miss him? Don’t you love him? Taehyung is slowly breaking down more and more as the days pass, his insecurities overflowing and his loneliness consuming him. This place he is in…is dark.

His friends are worried of course and they try to spend as much time with him as possible. They are constantly trying to make him smile, make him laugh, make him breathe a little easier but this cloud over Taehyung’s head is dark. It flashes bright bolts of lightning, it carries the strongest winds and ice cold rain. Every day their hearts break more and more but they do not give up.

The night time air is warm tonight, maybe even slightly humid. Taehyung is already drunk, his intoxicated mind and body showing up late to the bar to meet his friends. He is in a strange mood today. A mood where he hates you. Despises you. And seeing Hana trying her hardest to woo him makes him feel like an ounce of insecurity is vanishing from his body.

But he didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect to be busting through his front door…kissing her, groping her, swallowing her moans. He isn’t here. Not really. Physically he is touching her, kissing her, making her feel good. But really, he is elsewhere. His mind full of you. You. You. You. Taehyung groans in frustration, in anger. But your face doesn’t leave his mind. His brain torturing him with images of you. He sees flashes of your face expressing emotion after emotion.

He loves you so much it is physically destroying him. He feels like his bones are shattering, like his skin is fucking burning, like his heart is being squeezed so harshly. And it is in your hands. You are responsible. But he isn’t entirely sure how he found himself in this position—inside her. Inside Hana. Inside someone who isn’t you.

Her moans fill his ears, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, like a screeching so unbearable it is overwhelming him in the worst way. His mind finds you again and again. He loves you. He hates you. He loves you. He hates you. He hates himself. He hates himself so fucking much. Why wasn’t he good enough then? Why isn’t he good enough even now? He hates you. He has to hate you. Your face haunts him.

He thrusts in and out of Hana, his weak body barely holding up as he fucks her. Your face, your beautiful face haunting him like a dedicated ghost of his past. He squeezes his eyes shut but your face continues to linger behind his closed lids. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you but FUCK. He fucking loves you. He loves you so much. He hurts so badly. He can’t function properly. So much hate. So much love. He sees you. He sees your face. And it is enough to push him over the edge, coming inside his condom. He wants to hate you. He has to hate you. But—

“I love you.” He cries out, his head falling onto Hana’s shoulder. He breathes out roughly, tears pricking his glossy eyes. But then he freezes. Even his breathing has stopped all at once. He realizes his mistake when he feels Hana freeze too.

“You what? You love—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Taehyung lifts himself from her shoulder, “Wait.” He repeats over, his mouth going dry. He didn’t mean to say that…especially not to her. His mind was just overflowing and overwhelmed with you…he didn’t mean to let those words slip from his lips.

“Taehyung—”

“Fuck.” He rolls off her body, “I can’t fucking do this right now.” He stands from the bed, drags on some shorts and takes a bottle of soju from his nightstand. “Fuck.” He says, giving one last glance to Hana before rushing off to the bathroom.

Hana is confused but is quick to jump to her feet and try to follow him but he’s faster than her as he slams the bathroom door shut and locks it. She rattles the knob, begging to be let in. She pounds her small fists on the wooden door, she begs for an explanation. Could he really feel the same as her? She’s panicking. She wants to believe that but before than anything she just senses that something is wrong. Really wrong.

Taehyung begins spiraling further and further. The dark pit pulling him in intensely. What the hell did he do? What is he doing? He’s a coward. He locked himself away, hiding from reality. Which is what? Even he doesn’t know. He brings the bottle of soju to his lips and starts chugging it back, his eyes on himself in the mirror. He’s pathetic. His drunken vision making everything around him blurry…he’s becoming so dizzy, so sick.

After a while, Hana has given up and retreated back to the bedroom and assumingly fell asleep in his bed. Around an hour or so has passed. He feels his world collapsing around him. He feels how everything around him is cracking and breaking apart. But the most cracked, broken thing is him. He looks at himself in the mirror and stares into his empty eyes, these same eyes that used to gaze at you. These same eyes that saw your smile, laugh, cry. These same eyes that undressed you. These same eyes that saw you coming undone over and over. These same eyes.

Taehyung stares at himself, hating what he sees. You’re doing this to him. He went from being miserably depressed to angry. He’s beginning to blame you for everything with rage. But as much as he wants to hate you—he does want to—he just can’t. He can’t gather that type of energy in your direction. He just can’t.

So many different thoughts have gone through Taehyung’s head. Is he hard to love? That’s the main question that came out of all of this. You spent every day with him for 8 months and you weren’t even sure of your feelings. Shouldn’t a person know by then? He’s trying to be understanding…he is trying so fucking hard to understand but how can he? When he is balls deep in love with you and he doesn’t have to question it at all.

He is spiraling, he is being sucked into a darkness that he can’t crawl out of. He looks at himself in the mirror again, his eyes narrowing at his own reflection—disgusted with what he sees. He grips the empty bottle of soju as he feels his eyes wet with tears. He grips on to the bottle harder and harder, tears now leaving his big brown eyes. He growls out, groaning in frustration as he lifts the bottle up and throws it at his mirror. Glass shattering everywhere.

Startled, Hana jumps from the bed and rushes to the loud sound. She pounds on the door again until Taehyung finds himself unlocking it. She opens the door and sees Taehyung just standing lifeless, continuing to eye himself in the broken mirror. He likes what he sees much better. The cracked glass making for a better reflection, a more accurate representation of what he truly sees when he views himself.

“What the fuck?!” Hana yells out, rushing to Taehyungs side. “Are you okay???”

Taehyung walks closer to the mirror and lightly slides his hand down the cracked mirror, his fingers careful not to get cut.

“No.” he answers honestly and quietly. “I’m not.”

Hana is breathing roughly, her worries and anxieties only multiplying. What’s going on? Is this your doing? Are you to blame? The girl from the island?

Taehyung clears his throat as he finishes telling you his truth, his story, his explanation. His big, brown eyes look at you with tears, with sadness so deep it makes you nauseas. His eyes search yours, his hand reaching out to touch you but you are quick to pull back.

You are stunned silent. You truly do not know what to say. Your mind tries to focus on the fact that Hana thinks Taehyung told her he loves her but you keep thinking of everything else that was said, the broken mirror…the broken Taehyung. What did you do to him? What have you done to him mentally? Emotionally? Suddenly, Jungkook’s hesitance towards you makes even more sense. You understand his concerns but also Hana’s concerns. She called you a bitch and she is right.

It also makes sense why Taehyung feels so guilty, so responsible. He really fucked up. His guilt ridden state proves it. He’s guilty. Just like you. How is any of this healthy? You try to take a few deep breaths but you struggle. You aren’t sure where a steady breath is but you search for it regardless. You take your time trying to just fucking breathe. Taehyung becomes antsy just sitting here. He sighs out over and over, his eyes darting all around the room.

“Please y/n. Say something. Something, anything. Just anything at this point. Yell at me, hit me, but at least react! Please y/n.” he starts getting choked up on his words, his deep voice cracking in desperation. “Please say something.”

You just shake your head.

“y/n.” he begins to beg harder now, “Please baby, please.” He’s quick to jumble all of his words, he starts to re-explain himself now. Starting the story over from the beginning. His voice grows louder and louder as he cries out, he begins to break down. His tears falling from his swollen eyes, his breaths are sharp and his words are starting to lose their sense.

You just watch him with sad, tired eyes. Finally you open your mouth to speak just to whisper, “What did I do to you?” you let a moment linger before you stand from the couch and walk to his bedroom. The pitter patter of your footsteps drowned out by the sound of his tears. You walk inside the room and softly close the bedroom door…Taehyung manages to hear the click of the lock. While all you manage to hear is the sound of his cries.

~~~~~

You’re in a state of shock, maybe. You are in state so far away from your physical self that you have come to accept you aren’t one with your body right now. You’ve been locked in Taehyung’s room for like, two days now. You haven’t heard anything from outside…you wonder if Taehyung is even here. You don’t expect him to be.

Your phone starts buzzing and you shakily reach out for it when you see Ellie’s name on the screen.

“Hello?” Your voice is quiet, shaken, defeated.

“Want to explain your texts to me?” Ellie says on the other line, “Why the hell are you sending me paragraphs talking about how you are a horrible person?”

“Because I am.” You say, your guilt bubbling over all over again. “I am the worst.”

“I find that hard to believe…but why?”

“Not talking to him…ruined him El.” You start to sniffle…”I ruined him. He acts like he’s okay now but how much of this is fake? How much of this is he just covering up with a forced smile?”

“Hey, hey.” Ellie sighs out, “You knew things weren’t going to be easy going into this—”

“Yeah but when is enough, enough?” you cut her off, “This isn’t healthy. For either of us.”

“y/n. Wait.” You can imagine Ellie closing her eyes in frustration as she listens to you. “Don’t tell me you are giving up already?”

“It isn’t giving up…it’s just..”

“You love him, right? He loves you, right?”

“Is love enough?” you ask quietly. “There’s so much hurt…there’s so much that is unresolved.”

“Then work it out! Talk about it! Fucking communicate!” Elli blurts out, “Jesus y/n. This man is the love of your life and you’re not even willing to work on it? This wasn’t going to be easy. You knew that from the beginning. This was going to be hard. This was going to take work. For fucks sake, you two were traumatized. You two were put into a complicated situation and you somehow still found your way back to each other.” You nibble on your lips as you listen to your sister. “I’m sorry to be tough on you but god, someone has to set you straight! You can’t give up on this.”

“O-Okay…” you sigh out, “I’ll try.” Then you feel your phone buzz on your ear…you pull the phone back to take a look at the notification, only to see a text from Jimin.

“I love you y/n. I just want you to think things through properly. You know?”

“I love you too. Yeah, I get it.” You say. “I’m going to try to get some sleep…I’ll call you later?”

“Keep me up to date.” Ellie says before saying her goodbyes and hanging up.

You breathe out, trying to calm yourself after the conversation you two just had. Is Ellie right? It’s just…you knew Taehyung had a hard time but you didn’t know it was that bad. You get distracted from your thoughts when your phone buzzes again.

Jimin 8:04pm

Can you come over?

Jimin 8:10pm

Please.

Your chest once again starts closing in on you as you read his texts. You rise from Taehyung’s bed and slip on a t shirt and some shorts, you smooth down your hair and walk to the bedroom door. You place your ear on the wood and wait for any sound of life…but there is none. You slowly creep open the door and poke your head out. He’s not here.

y/n 8:14pm

He’s not there is he?

Jimin 8:24pm

No.

You sigh in relief. You step out into the living room, find your shoes and text Jimin that you are on your way. Lucky, his place is walking distance.

As soon as the chilly air hits you, you feel that same chill you felt in the apartment a couple days ago. Is it the weather or your nerves? Your mind has been in a state of uneasiness since Taehyung told you about the night with Hana…but you also feel lost, you feel empty. You haven’t even been able to cry. You’ve just been so disoriented. Like your soul has been misplaced.

The streets of Seoul are quiet tonight…maybe in honor of your feelings. You walk slowly, taking your time to get to Jimin’s. Too afraid of what he might say. Your mind begins over thinking, your mind goes into over drive. You finally stand outside his place and take a deep, deep breath.

You hesitate at first, but finally your fist is knocking on his door. You wait a few moments before the door is being opened and a Jimin with tired eyes greets you.

“You’re here.” He says softly. “Come inside.” He stands to the side to let you in.

His place smells of lavender. It’s subtle and soothing and you find yourself inhaling the scent, the aroma calming you.

“How are you?” You hear from behind you, his voice careful but sweet.

You turn around to face him, your eyes finding his and you see how they are full of sympathy, full of pity and your face immediately scrunches up into a look of pure devastation.

“I know.” He whispers. “Come here.” He opens his arms, ready for you to walk into them. You hesitate…not entirely too sure if you will find automatic comfort in Jimin but somehow you feel your feet walking forward. Your head bumps into his chest, your shoulders begin shaking in his grasp. You can’t control it. The pain you feel.

“It’s okay, I am here for you.” He whispers softly, his hand finding your back and rubbing it soothingly. “You can cry.” And you do. You open your mouth against his shirt and a whine of sadness escapes you. Your shut eyes streaming with fallen tears, your cheeks getting soaked. He sighs out as he holds you, his hand still patting your back as he tells you it’s okay.

“Jimin.” You sob against him, “I don’t know what to do. Everything’s so fucked up.” You cry harder and harder as he tells you he knows. His smooth voice is all the comfort you need…but his arms is the true source of comfort right now. You cry like this for a while, time zooming past you as you let go of all of your emotions. Jimin finds himself getting teary eyed at your break down.

“y/n…” Jimin finally says something after a while of you just quietly sniffling into his chest, “You doing okay?”

You slowly begin to pull away from him, your face puffy with swollen eyes and snot running down your nose. You subtlety nod your head and he gives you a small, soft smile.

“He ended things with Hana, you know? They won’t be in contact anymore.” He tells you, but he sees how you don’t even react.

“Isn’t that good?” he asks, “You won’t have to worry about her.”

Taehyung and Hana stand outside the bar, she is sniffling and swaying from side to side. Although she is still drunk, this entire situation is beginning to sober her up. She cannot even look Taehyung in the eye though, she’s too nervous.

“Hana.” Taehyung finally says her name. She hates the way the word leaves his mouth…like he tasted it and threw it away.

“I-I-I-…” Hana’s lips begins to quiver as she finally finds his cold eyes, “I’m so sorry.” She gets out, “I’m so sorry.” She steps forward but he steps back. “I don’t know what came over me. I regret it, Taehyung. I didn’t want to harm her in any way…I just… I was so overwhelmed with my feelings…”

“Hana…” he closes his eyes, then opens them to look at her properly.

Hana is a sweet girl. She always has been. But trying to throw a drink at you? That’s crossing a line but is it his fault?

“I’m not that type of person! I really, really don’t know what came over me Taehyung. I’m not like that…” she struggles to breathe, her words tumbling out of her mouth.

“I know.” He tells her. “I know.” His face hardens and he continues to stare at her with his old, distant eyes.

“Please don’t contact me anymore—”

Hana looks at him in disbelief, her face twisting into one of ever growing confusion.

“How could you ask that of me?” she spits out, “I’ve been so, so worried about you.”

Taehyung’s cheeks begin to grow red, his becomes embarrassed remembering that night…with the mirror. Why did she have to see that? See that side of him?

“I’ve been so worried.” She repeats and he bites his lips in guilt.

“Hana…I am so sorry.” He breathes out, closing his eyes again. “I’m so, so sorry.” He opens his eyes, they are full of regret. “I’m sorry you had to be there that night. I’m sorry I led you on that night…I’m sorry you witnessed an ugly side of me. And I am sorry I said “I love you.” But those words…” he pulls his brows together, guilt consuming him once more. “…Were not meant for you.”

“Whether you feel the same way as me or not doesn’t change the fact that I am worried. I still care about you.” She begins to grow angry, “You were miserable because of her!”

“I’m sorry but…you don’t actually know her. So you opinion on her hardly matters.”

“But what she did to you…”

“It was wrong.” He admits, his eyes glossing over. “It hurt me. But she had her own reasons, her own demons, her own fight with herself.” He tells Hana. “But again, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to involve you like this. It wasn’t fair. But I am okay. I am okay now. y/n and I are working things out. She makes me happier than any sadness I went through.”

“You….you’re happier now?” she mumbles, wiping at her face. “You’re really okay now?”

“Yes.” He tries to smile. “I promise.”

“I’m going to choose to believe you…but please…be happy, Taehyung.”

“I will. But for the sake of my relationship…it’s best if we cut ties.” He tells her softly, “I appreciate your concerns…and you. But I really—”

“I get it.” Hana cuts him off. “I get it.” She nods her head, disappointment written all over her face. “Goodluck, Taehyung.”

You listen carefully to Jimin about how things went between Taehyung and Hana, you nod your head as he speaks and hum occasionally. But Jungkook’s words are lingering in your mind.

“Hana is the least of your worries.”

And he is right. Hana only opened the door and opened your eyes to the real problem : You.

“For fucks sake, woman.” Taehyung runs a hand down his face. “I am literally falling in love with you!”

Your eyes quickly dart across the room, you try to find something to focus on—anything but Taehyung.

“Look at me.” He demands of you. “Now.” And then you are feeling his fingers at your jaw as he softly guides you to face him. “I am going to make sure this works no matter what. And that will take a lot of fucking communication. So talk.”

“I…” your eyes finally find his, they’re like a pool of chocolate and you find yourself wanting to take a dip. “I don’t know if I am ready.” You breathe out, the admission making you feel small.

Taehyung gulps, his hands coming together to rest in his lap.

“Ready for what?” he asks, the nervousness evident in his voice.

“You.”

Taehyung’s hands are sweaty as he holds onto himself, bracing himself if you are to continue but you don’t. You stay silent as you search his eyes.

“Tae?”

Taehyung blinks at you, clearing his throat.

“I…” he begins, “I understand.”

“I do like you Taehyung.” You clarify before he can overthink. “I just—”

“I said I understand.” He reminds you softly. “And trust me, I know you like me, I would be blind to think you didn’t. I don’t play games y/n. I don’t want you to either. Be real with me, be honest.” He releases a shaky breath. “You’re still going through a lot, you probably don’t have closure…you probably have a lot to work out when you get back home.” He says quickly, “Love is the last thing on your mind—”

“That’s not true!” you cut in. “God, Taehyung you make me…you make me want to forget everything. You make me want to stay on this island with you for forever.”

Taehyung blinks at you again before he offers you a small smile.

“But that’s not real life y/n.” he looks down at his hands, “I want to experience real life with you.” He finds your eyes again, “And you aren’t ready for that.”

“I want to be.” Your eyes begin to wet with tears. “I really, really want to be.”

“I know baby.”

“Slow.” You scoot closer to him, “I still want to be in this. Just slow.” You say, not believing yourself. Your trauma isn’t your only problem here. It’s this whole damn company.

“You still want me?” Taehyung whispers softly and you begin to feel yourself melt into liquid, your body puddling on the couch.

“Tae…” you lean into his space, pecking his lips lightly. “Yes, of course.” You lean back and smile. “You mean so much to me…” you look down at his tense hands. You want to comfort him now. “You are such a light in my life.” You fingers cover his hands and your squeeze lightly. “I feel so strongly for you.” You admit. Hating yourself for being so drawn to him.

“Yeah?” he releases some of the tension in his body through a long, shaky breath.

“Yeah.”

“Then we have to communicate. I know it’s hard. But y/n, I am quite literally desperate to make this work.” He sighs, “I will do whatever it takes. And I just want to know if you will do the same.” His dark eyes pierce into yours and you find yourself being even more drawn to him, leaning closer and closer like he has you under some sort of spell.

“Yes, Taehyung. But…”

“She quit her job out of nowhere! Came back home? This isn’t damn suspicious to you honey?” Your moms voice is loud enough for you to hear from the living room.

“She said she has her reasons sweetheart. Let’s just trust her, be there for her.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with that boyfriend she had? You think they broke up?” you mother pries further, making your father roll his eyes.

“You think our daughter would move to another town just because of a break up?” he groans and you bite your bottom lip as you eavesdrop.

You hear your mother scoff, “Wouldn’t be that surprised. She’s known for running away when shit hits that fan.” She reminds your dad and you feel your eyes gloss over and the slight burn of your throat.

“Sweetheart…” you father warns, “Let’s just be there for her for now, she will come to us eventually.”

But will you? Even your father isn’t sure.

You feel the tightness in your chest only intensify as you recall your memories. Taehyung watches you with careful eyes as he thinks of your life and the things you’ve been through. He grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into his chest, your head getting buried into his shoulder and he starts to soothingly rub your back.

“You can cry if you need to.” His voice is soft, softer than you have ever heard it. This only pushes you to listen to him…you cry. You cry just as hard as you did in the elevator that first day. He rubs circles into your back and whispers sweet words into your hair. You hate this. You feel pathetic. But somehow you feel yourself getting freed with every tear that drops and soaks into his t shirt. You finally…finally after all this time, for the first time, feel someone’s support. You feel someone understand you, believe you.

“Taehyung…” you cry into his shirt harder as that realization hits you. “Taehyung…”

He slams his eyes shut and inhales you. The scent of your shampoo filling his senses and he goes dizzy.

“I’m here baby. I’m here.”

But he won’t always be here, you think. Once he goes home why wouldn’t he just continue to live his normal life? Why wouldn’t Hana wait for him? He’s amazing. He’s absolutely the best thing that has happened to you in the last year. Why wouldn’t someone wait for him?

This only makes you cry harder. He pulls you into his lap and continues to stroke your back. He is terrified. He won’t say that out loud, but he is. He is falling for you harder and harder with every moment he spends with you, good or bad. He just wants to protect you, to be there for you, to make you safe and happy.

“y/n?” he leans back to get a look at your crying face, but you only shove your face deeper onto his shoulder, refusing to be seen right now.

“Will you look at me?” he softly pleads. “Please.”

You hesitate for a moment but finally lift your head, showing him your swollen eyes and puffy lips.

“Still think you are falling in love with me?” you joke pathetically and Taehyung smiles sadly.

“I think I already am.”

You get pulled out of your memories with Jimin gently shaking your shoulder, he looks at you as your eyes fill with tears.

“I…” your eyes finally find his, they’re like a pool of chocolate and you find yourself wanting to take a dip. “I don’t know if I am ready.” You breathe out, the admission making you feel small.

Taehyung gulps, his hands coming together to rest in his lap.

“Ready for what?” he asks, the nervousness evident in his voice.

“You.”

Taehyung’s hands are sweaty as he holds onto himself, bracing himself if you are to continue but you don’t. You stay silent as you search his eyes.

“Tae?”

Taehyung blinks at you, clearing his throat.

“I…” he begins, “I understand.”

“I do like you Taehyung.” You clarify before he can overthink. “I just—”

You can’t help it…the tears are uncontrollable. You are stuck in your memories. You are stuck with words of the past…that have such relevance to right now.

“I…” You hiccup, Jimin holding on to your hands. “I’m not ready for this.” You finally admit.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jimin panics, “You’re not thinking of—”

“You’ve been a good friend, Jimin.”

“y/n, wait—”

Jimin’s wide eyes are pleading as his stares at you, his words practically falls out of his mouth as he begs you to rethink this.

But you can’t. You won’t. Your mind is made up.

~~~~~

“We should probably talk about it, right? What this all means, I mean.” His questions causes a shift in the atmosphere. The air becoming a little thicker.

You only nod and turn on your feet to head back into the bedroom. He quickly follows behind you, both of you stopping at the foot of the bed.

“Let’s talk then.” You bite your lip, swaying side to side.

He needs to be honest. He is clearly so confused about all this. Fucking puzzled. He means, what if just what if this company was real? And this company was…right? Are you really a match made in heaven? No, that can’t be. That would be fucking ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous for even considering it. But you two obviously need to talk. Have a fucking chit chat.

You plop down on the edge of the bed and he follows your lead, finding a spot right next to you. Your knee shakes up and down quickly while you play with the hem of your shirt. You’re obviously nervous as fuck, which he can’t really blame you. He watches you for a few moments before hesitantly placing a hand over your shaking knee, trying to stop the anxious movement and hoping to God he is not crossing any serious lines, he’s just really getting annoyed by your shaking knee and needs that shit to stop. You turn your head to face him and he is met with a look of frustration. He turns his head to face straight ahead and with a heavy sigh he says, “I feel that way too.” Because it’s true, you both must feel the same. It’s not like you want to be stuck here with him either. Right?

You finally let out a long breath, “How long?” you whisper. “How long will we be stuck here?” you begin to sniffle as your eyes become wet. Shit. He brings his hands to his lap and interlocks his fingers together.

“I…I don’t know.” He answers honestly. “But what are your thoughts? On what we read…” he clears his throat, clarifying as if it wasn’t already obvious.

You suck in a sharp breath, “I don’t know what to believe.” You admit. “But we are…” you gesture between you two, “This is—This is not happening.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as if that was the most obvious statement in the world. He. Could. Not. Agree. More.

You continue, “Someone deciding for me? On this part of my life? That doesn’t sit right with me. No fucking thank you.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“I mean,” you turn to face him, “You seem decent and all, when you’re not being an ass, but this is all insane. Just insane.” You wear an annoyed expression, shaking your head in disbelief. He breathes out of his nose in attempt to laugh.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

“But…” you pause, choosing your next words carefully…you have to be careful with this next part. “But if it’s real? What are we—” and yup, just as expected, you are cut off with just a look. He furrows his brows together and pushes his head back in surprise.

“This can’t be forced y/n.” he states firmly. You raise your hands up in surrender.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. I know that! I fucking know, jeez. But we have to talk about all the possibilities.” You say firmly, “We’re stuck here for who knows how long and you read the same thing as me, right?” you push on, “3 months? 6 months? A fucking year?” you drag a heavy hand down your tired face. “And don’t even get me started on these damn ‘Requests’ and whatever they are!” You are clearly very frustrated…Taehyung looks at you with the same pity you’re sure he feels for himself.

“Okay, okay.” For the first time Taehyung speaks to you much more softly. “Listen, they can’t keep us here forever? We are going to prove we are that 1%. We just got to stay out of one another’s way and just wait it out until they return us home.” Then his frown deepens, “But wait, what about the ‘Requests’?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

You strum your fingers on your thigh, staring down at your lap, in deep thought.

“I know this is weird but…” Taehyung starts.

“I know, we have to talk about it.” You finally look up at him and your entire face has gone pink.

“If the ‘Requests’ are, I don’t know, “pure” enough, we could just like do them?” you look at him with doe eyes, “Or like, if the penalty isn’t that bad…. I don’t know.” You ramble on.

The thing is, neither of you know what to expect from these ‘Requests’ and their penalties. It’s one huge mystery. And neither you nor Taehyung are a fan of mysteries. Taehyung watches as you begin shaking your knee in total panic again when he clears his throat.

“Hey…I think we can worry about that when or if the time comes, okay?”

“When or if…” you repeat slowly. “Okay.”

He stands from his place at the bed and begins walking towards the bedroom door.

“As long as we stay out of each other’s way, we should be good.”

“Stay out of each other’s way…” you nibble on your lips, “Like, we don’t talk or anything?”

“Precisely. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”

“But—”

“That’s just the way it’s got to be.”

“Fine.” You speak bitterly, “Fine by me.”

Stuck on a beautiful island in a beautiful house with a beau—with a man. What could possibly go wrong? Vacation from hell, here we go.

You sit on Taehyung’s living room sofa, the apartment eerily quiet until you chuckle bitterly at your memories. The place may be silent save the running AC but your mind is loud. The sound of the front door unlocking and opening doesn’t even make you flinch. You have been waiting in anticipation, expecting him to eventually show up.

Taehyung walks in, not saying a word. He quietly sets his keys down on the table near the front and begins dragging his feet towards his living room. He stops in front of his couch, breathes out a long, tired breath as he finally takes a spot on the couch, sitting away from you.

He sits down, sighs out and fold his hands in front of him.

You aren’t entirely sure how much time has passed, how much silence has lingered between you two. Neither of you saying anything yet saying everything. You both know. You sit here, your head bowed down as you continue to think. Your loud mind becoming even louder…like a booming sound effect echoes annoyingly, causing you to get a headache.

There are three things you know: One, You love Taehyung. Two, you aren’t ready for Taehyung. And three, he isn’t ready for you. You finally lift your head, your glossy eyes searching the room before they find him. His eyes find yours and you both share a look of despair. You both feel the pain of this.

Taehyung scoots closer to you, his hands scrambling to find yours. You accept his hands easily. He leans in closer and closer until his soft lips find yours. The kiss is slow, soft, and torturous. He pulls away from you, his fingers cupping your jaw before his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in and holding you close.

“I fly out in the morning.” You tell him, your voice is soft and calm. You feel him nod in understanding, his fingers tangling in your hair as he massages your scalp.

“Will we…” he clears his throat, trying to make sure his voice doesn’t crack. “Will we still talk?” he asks as his chest tightens.

“This isn’t….the end, is it?” he gulps back the burning in his throat.

“I don’t know.” You decide to respond honestly. And you really, truly do not know. You realize this is much bigger than what the island did to you. This is much bigger then Hana’s presence in Taehyung’s life. This is much bigger than Ben. This is to the core…about you two. And how you are each the most imperfect human beings who just…can’t. Not now at least. Not when you have so much to heal from, so much to go through. There is so much growing to be done…as individuals.

“Let’s not have any expectations.” You say quietly. “That could hurt us more in the end.”

Taehyung closes his eyes as he breathes you in, like it’s for the last time. And it really might be.

“I understand.” He chokes out softly, “I understand.”

He kisses the top of your head, his lips staying on your hair for several seconds, causing you to close your eyes and release a long breath.

He holds you close this night. He inhales you over and over. He memorizes every millimeter of your face as he gazes at you. He doesn’t want to let go of your hand at the airport, he doesn’t want to say goodbye. But he knows he has to let go.

You fly back home and you aren’t sure how it happened…but…

One entire year passes you both by.

[sxnnimoon]

Little One pt.2

I am telling you guys right there is to be a LOTTTT more smut within this series. This is only the beginning. Hope you all enjoy part 2 as much as part 1 !

Paring- OT7 x Reader (poly)

Summary- Through your husbands line of work they take a week or more off to spend some time with their wife.

—————————————————————

Arriving at Celeste you were in awe at how many people were always here. Not wanting to brag but your club was by far the best at bringing in not only money but also people. You knew what people wanted. The feeling of letting go with a hint of sexual tension and endless booze. You all went up to your usual spot. Right in the middle up top so you had a view of the whole place.

“Y/N,” said your favorite waitress Cleo.

“Lo! So good to see you.” You said hugging her. “How’s everything?”

“Everything is actually amazing. Tonight has been nothing but smooth.” She smiled.

“I meant with you silly.” You nudge her arm. “How’s baby girl?”

“Of course!” she giggled. “She’s amazing, finally almost ready for school. I may just cry.”

“Well don’t, you may make me cry.” You smiled, rubbing her arm.

“The usual I presume?” She asked.

“Boys?” You looked at your husbands.

A round of yes’ and sures were heard.

You laughed.

“Yes and get something for yourself as well!” You pointed after her.

She nodded.

“You are just too nice.” Namjoon said, pulling you into his lap.

“She’s an amazing worker and mother.” You smiled. “I think I’ll keep her around.”

He nodded.

Once the drinks were brought you downed a few shots to start.

“You better behave tonight.” Yoongi said.

“Whatever do you mean?” You smirked at him grabbing another shot.

“You know exactly what he means.” Taehyung said from beside him.

You giggle at the memory of you fighting off some drunk guys who started a fight with Chi. You were buzzed but boy did you impress your boys, not a scratch left on you. That was a night to remember.

“I’m gonna go dance.” You said practically bouncing in Joon’s lap at the beat of the music. “Anyone wanna join me?”

“I’ll meet you in a few minutes.” Kookie said.

You smiled, shaking your ass as you headed for the dance floor. You found your girls at the edge of the dance floor talking with Cleo.

“Ladies.” You said hugging Chi from behind.

“Someone’s on one.” Said Skye laughing.

“I’ve had a few shots. I feel amazing.” You smiled, running your hands down your body.

They all giggled.

You removed your blazer leaving you in your dress as you didn’t wanna get warm.

“Shall we?” You said pulling them to the floor.

They all yelled in excitement.

Fever by ENHYPEN started playing and you all were grinding on each other. You were in your element. From above your boys watched you. They were in awe of you.

“You gotta see her. She looks hot.” Hobi said.

“That dress.” Jimin said. “I had no idea it was backless.” He bit his lip.

“She’s playing with fire tonight.” Yoongi said.

“This is gonna be a LONGGGGG week for her.” Tae said, smirking.

“Look at her grinding on them.” Joon said. “She knows what she does to us.”

“I’m going down.” Kook said.

They all nodded, eyes still on you.

Letting the music take you, you felt a pair of familiar hands on your body.

“Nice of you to join me.” You smirked, grinding into him.

“You looked too good, I had too.” He held your hips in place.

You hummed, throwing your head back into him.

“Beside,” he began “the show you put on with Chi and Skye, you were killing us.”

“You enjoyed it?” You turned to face him.

“Baby I am so close to taking you right now.” He said. “So what do you think?”

You turned back around grinding hard into him.

His grip on you tightened.

“Don’t start this little one if you know what’s good for you.” He growled into your ear.

“But I like it, baby.” You pouted. “Don’t you?”

You stepped away from him, hands running on your body as you moved your body to the beat of the song.

“Let’s get a drink kitty,” Chi said, pulling you from Kookie.

“Bye baby.” You smiled leaving him on the dance floor.

He shook his head before making his way back upstairs.

“She will be the death of me.” He said plopping down next to V.

“She’s trouble that one.” Yoongi said, sipping his drink.

“Girl you are so gonna get it when you get home.” Chi said.

“Ugh you are so lucky.” Skye said.

“All that dick and they're good looking? I’d be prancing around like that too.” Chi said.

You giggled.

“They treat me like royalty, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smiled while sipping your drink. “Besides, they liked the show we put on for them.” You smirked.

“Oh really now?” Chi said.

“Maybe we should take it up a notch.” Skye said.

You knew exactly what they meant.

“Let me find the perfect song.” You smirked walking away.

Sacrifice by Black Atlass ft. Jessie Reyes began playing. You knew what this song did to them, especially if it involved you.

Taking your girls to the middle. You all started off solo before moving in together. Chi in the front, you in the middle and Skye behind you. The boys were watching you like hawks. They knew you had your way with women but boy did it rile them up seeing you like this in the middle of them. Both of them kissing on you as you grabbed Chi's ass pulling her closer. This was nothing new between you three. You had your few share of moments between each other but it never meant anything and never ruined your friendship over it. You knew what you were doing and you were pleased to look up and see them all staring, you blew them a kiss before going back to dancing as the song was coming to an end. Making your way back up top, all eyes were on you.

“You,” V began. “Will be the death of me.”

“Did you enjoy the show, my love?” You bit your bottom lip.

“I should take you here right now,” Hoseok growled. “Let everyone know what a naughty slut you’ve been.” He bit your neck. Earning a moan.

“Shall we head home then?” You put a finger under his chin.

“Let’s go.” Yoongi said, pulling you away.

Walking through the club to leave the girls spotted you being rushed away. They giggled. They knew what kinda night was underway for you.

“Don’t break her!!” Skye yelled.

“We have a retreat after your vacation. She’s gotta be there.” Chi added.

You laughed at them waving bye.

Getting into the limo you were placed on Jimin’s lap.

“You were naughty tonight.” He whispered in your ear making you squirm.

“Do you know the things we wanna do to you?” Hoseok said into your other ear.

“I wasn’t that bad daddy.” You moaned out as Jimin began doing circles on your nipple. Hoseok pulled your dress up, exposing you. The cool air hitting you made you moan.

“No bra or panties?” Yoongi said. “It’s like you wanted a punishment.”

“But look at how wet I am for you daddy.” You whined out at them.

They groaned, they loved you in this state. All turned on and willing to do anything for them.

“Touch me baby.” You whined at Jimin who was running his finger on your thigh getting very close to your heat.

“Not here princess, we’re almost home.” He whispered.

You let out a whine.

“Keep it up little one or you won’t be getting any dick tonight.” Jin said sternly.

You instantly shut up.

“That’s a good girl.” Namjoon said.

Once home they all hurried inside, Jimin holding your waist kissing on your neck as you walked in the house.

Once inside he pushed you into the door leaving a trail of wet kisses on you.

“Tonight Jimin and Hobi have their way with you.” Jin said. Earning a whine from Jungkook.

“It’s okay Kookie, you can have a taste tomorrow.” You said biting your lip.

“You’re in for princess.” Hoseok said, putting you over his shoulder.

He entered the play room (Red Room if you will) placing you on your feet.

“That was fun.” You giggled.

“It’ll be more fun once these clothes are gone.” Jimin said.

“Strip baby.” Hobi ordered.

You pulled the straps down your arms before letting the dress slip to your feet leaving you in your heels. They both looked at you in awe. The curviness of your body drives them crazy. You bent down to undo your heels when they stopped you.

“Leave them princess.” Hoseok said.

You stood back up.

“Aren’t you both a little too dressed.” You crossed your arms.

They began undressing, your eyes practically ready to fall out at the sight of them. You were ready for them.

They saw you staring, Jimin beckoned you with his finger to come to them. You instantly got on all fours and crawled. Once in front of them you were eye level with their cocks. You reached out for them only to be swatted away.

“Bed. Now.” Hoseok ordered.

You got onto bed waiting on your back. The quietness of the room only made you more anxious. You were about to speak when you felt a mouth on you, making you cry out. You grabbed onto what you could that thing being Jimin’s head. The things he was doing to you were incredible.

“Jimin.” You moaned out. “More..please.”

“You want more baby?” He said in between licks.

He soon entered a finger making you moan loud. You felt the bed dip, looking over you were met you Hobi’s dick.

“Open little one.” He said.

You opened eager to taste him. He entered with ease , starting off with a slow pace before ducking your throat. You were in heaven.

“I’m gonna add a second, okay baby?” He asked.

You moaned out against Hoseok's dick as a second finger entered you. The vibrations from you caused Hobi to groan, almost bottoming out.

“I-I’m close.” you moaned.

“No you’re not.” Jimin said, removing his fingers.

You whined at the loss of contact.

“Don’t be a brat Y/n.” Hoseok growled. “Ass up.”

You got up quick.

“That's a good girl.” Jimin said coming up behind you.

He began running his tip against your opening.

“I-I need you..now.” you moaned out. “Stop teasing.”

“Why should I?” He began. “You’ve done nothing but tease us all night.”

“But you enjoyed it.” You giggled.

Jimin slapped you on the ass. You moaned loud.

He entered you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. The amount of times you have had them all in you and yet you still couldn’t handle it.

You cried out gripping the sheets as he entered you fully.

“Move baby.” You said.

He began slow, building up a steady pace. You were a morning mess.

“You like when hyung fills you up?” Hoseok said watching Jimin fuck you.

You cried out.

“Answer him.” Jimin said earning a slap to your ass.

“Yes Hobi,” you moaned out.

“What was that?” He said getting close to you.

“Yes daddy.” You mewled out.

“Good girl, look at you taking his cock.” He cooed.

“I’m gonna cum.” Jimin moaned.

“Cum baby.” You yelled out. “Give it to me.”

A few more strokes and he bottomed out. You collapsed, laying on your stomach for a few seconds before Hoseok flipped you over.

“Get ready baby.” He smirked.

Sex with Hoseok was something else, he was always tying you up and doing everything in his power to please you.

“We’re not going all out tonight.” He said entering you. “ I’m not going to last very long.”

You cried out as he began a brutal pace. He knew exactly what to do to get you to cum. You could feel the knot beginning to form in you, you were close.

“I’m close Hoseok.” You moaned.

“Me too baby,” he said almost out of breath. “Just hold out for a bit, ok?”

You nodded trying your hardest, you ended up clenching around him making him lose focus.

“Cum for me princess,” he said.

You cried out as you released on him. He came soon after. You were out of breath, you couldn’t wait for what the next few days brought you. They took notice of your state and knew you were to pass out soon,

“Let’s clean up baby and then you can head to bed.” Jimin said already working to clean you up.

After cleaning up they placed you in your bed, both getting in on either side of you. Both wrapped their arms around you making you feel safe, you soon began to drift off to sleep.

[vicious-vixxxen]

Tenya Iida X Male!Reader: Comfort for a Broken Heart

Hey guys :3 Just something I wrote on a whim, for myself: didn’t plan to post it, but thought maybe it might help those of you who may be going through similar feelings to these. Or have before, and they flare up from time to time.  Happens to the best of us, so if this can help in any way, here ya go <3

((AS ALWAYS: MINORS DNI I AM AN 18+ BLOG))

“My turn,” Denki called, snatching up the aux cord and immediately beginning to shuffle through his playlist as he jammed the cord into his phone, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Leaning more heavily into Tenya’s side. The class rep rumbling contentedly in his chest, before steeling himself and taking a deep breath as he slowly slid a hand over your shoulder, cupping the one opposite him and bringing you in close to his side. Blush high on his cheeks, as you looked up at him and smiled. Winking at him, in your own little world together as he turned back to his book, and you continued to scroll through your phone. The sound of Denki and Mineta bickering over something dumb more or less ambient, in the background. It was a typical Saturday in the dorms, all things considered. Most people lounge around the common area, taking turns playing music, sharing their taste and just having a nice time. You loved nights like these. They calmed your inner anxieties, made you feel…safe. Cared for. You wouldn’t trade them for anything. “Hey, I love this song!” Kirishima shouted, a little louder than the others, drawing your attention out of your mind and back to the music. Missing the worried look Momo through your way as you stared ahead, and the lyrics finally registered. Oh. Oh no.

Your chest grew tight suddenly, and try as you might to inwardly, frantically remind yourself it was fine, the part of yourself ruled by your emotions- the larger part-began to take effect quickly. Cheeks heating up comfortably, as you glanced around, as though everyone could tell. Though in reality only Momo knew, though Tenya, bless his heart, felt you stiffening next to him, and stared down suddenly at you by his side, one brow curled, as he set his book down. “Y/N, are you-“ “I uh- I’m gonna go lie down guys, I’m starting to get a little tired. Might come back out if I can’t sleep or something. Sweet dreams,” you announced, hurriedly, cupping Iida’s jaw gently with one hand-Offering an apologetic smile, but not quite meeting his eyes as you turned to leave, shaking your head briefly at Momo as she made to follow you- pursing her lips, and settling her hands in her lap nervously as she watched you leave. Turning to Tenya suddenly, and debating briefly, before motioning him to come into the kitchen with her. The taller boy following quickly, glancing back over his shoulder at you as you disappeared around the corner Making your way to your room, you breathed deeply, carefully. Good, then bad. Good, then bad. Breath coming in smaller pants, as you grew anxious. Frustrated tears welling up in your eyes as you rushed the last few feet to your room. Shutting the door quickly behind yourself, and crawling into bed without even changing. Sighing in relief at the scent of your sheets, the feel of your various pillows surrounding you, cradling you. It was okay. Everything was okay. All over a fucking /song/. You were so pathetic. It was okay though, you were okay. Everything would be okay. You’re alright. You were so /stupid/. Why were you like this? Why allow him any more rule over your life? Get OVER it. God. Sniffling was followed by soft sobs, as you clutched at your pillows. Allowing it to happen, as it always happened. Some days were better. Some days you were actually very good at ignoring it, or going unaffected as a whole. But some days, like today, the smallest thing could set you off. Make you feel small, and lonely, make you…miss him. Miss a time, and place. Miss…everything. Thoughts flooded your mind without your consent, fueling your sadness. Dates, smiles, kisses, /songs/. God. What would Tenya think? Pathetic. You were so pathetic. Lonely and pathetic. You didn’t deserve him. Yes. Yes you did. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be sad about things that passed, you reminded yourself in your mind quietly as you cried. You were human. This was okay.

Maybe you were more emotional than others, maybe it was taking you longer to let go. To forget…to forget. But that was okay. Things take time. Sometimes you have bad days. It’s okay. It’s okay. “It’s okay,” Tenya echoed, voice soft, and sure as he slid in next to you in bed- you hadn’t even heard him come in. Glasses set on the bedside table, and house slippers next to the bed, Tenya, with a heavy heart, slid an arm around you, bringing you as close to his chest as humanly possible, as you cried. Harder now that he was here. Seeing you this way. Speaking as though he knew. Did he know? …of course he did. What didn’t Iida know? “I-I’m s-s-sorry,” you hiccuped, turning into his chest, hands fisted in the crisp, unwrinkled material, making it quite the opposite as you cried into your boyfriend's chest. Tenya closed his eyes to stave off his own tears, as he racked his brain for anything, ANYTHING to say. He always had something to say. Always knew what to do. Had all the answers. So why wouldn’t they come to him now? “It’s okay,” he repeated, voice cracking, now unsure as he wrapped you in his arms and squeezed.

And there you lay together, well into the night, as you worked through your feelings. Shushed assurances from Tenya, and your quiet, hiccuping sobs are the only thing filling the space. Until finally, you’d cried yourself out. Breathing heavily, mouth open against Tenya’s chest, as one of his large, warm hands rubbed circles in your back. His warm breath flush across your neck where he’d nuzzled his face into: tentative, hesitant kisses ghosting the column of your neck as you calmed down. “I…I read, quite a lot. As you know,” Tenya started slow, almost too quiet, waiting to see if you’d stop him. If you needed more silence. But you nodded, urging him to continue silently. “Sometimes I read…wonderful books. Books with knowledge, and wisdom. Books that stay with me, teach me new things. Incredible books. And while I do believe all literature is to be respected…sometimes I read bad books too. And sometimes, I read books that are simply…books. Neither good, nor bad. Sometimes I’ll remember those unremarkable ones, once in a blue moon. Because that’s how the brain works. In funny ways sometimes…” Iida paused, face a deep red as he tried to figure out where he was going. What he was trying to say… “Think…think of him. As a chapter, in the book, that is your life,” he began again, even slower, as you held your breath. “Good. Bad. Remarkable, and unremarkable. Sometimes you forget you read it at all, and sometimes you suddenly remember the good parts. Or the bad parts. And you wonder how in the world it can still come up. Make you feel things. Good things, or bad things” “As humans, this is just something we do. Our brains are capable of incredible things, but even they get things wrong sometimes. Are flawed. Can hurt us in an attempt to help us.” “Think of it as a chapter of a book. It’s happened. Maybe it was wonderful, maybe it was terrible. But it’s there, on the pages.You can’t change it. But you can read some more, so much more. And eventually…all the good things you read, will outweigh the bad, or even the unremarkable things you’ve read previously. It’s…hard to see now, for example. Especially if it was your last chapter. How could you forget it so easily right now? But I promise…I promise you’ll feel better. And I’ll,” Tenya paused, choking up A bit, as he recalled all the good times you’d had together in just the last few weeks. Finally getting close..becoming more. “-I’ll be here to make sure those next chapters you read are more than remarkable. I’ll make sure they’re spectacular, y/n. I promise.” He kissed your forehead then, lips quivering as his own emotions overtook him, and you began to cry again. But for a whole new reason. Lifting your head up to press your lips to Tenya’s. Grip tight on his shirt as you kissed him hard. Trying to convey just how much you loved him with one little action. Things were gonna be okay, you reminded yourself quietly, as the two of you were a mess of tears, and kissing. You were gonna be okay. 

[cherienymphe]

Rapture (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, loss of virginity

!!! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !!!

➥ {page breaks done by @firefly-graphics​ }

summary: taking on the case of the disappearance of your father, Sherlock Holmes finds himself drawn to you, the daughter who holds more mystery than any riddle he’s ever encountered

~

“Y/N, keep your chin up, dear.”

Swallowing down your ire, you listened to your mother and did just that, raising your chin and pushing your shoulders back. A soft breeze ruffled the skirt of your dress, and goosebumps erupted over your arms underneath your sleeves. You could hear your mother fussing over your sister, lightly scolding her for the dress she’d picked out, something about the color.

“We want to look our best for when Mr. Holmes arrives,” you heard her say.

You heard your sister let out a soft huff, having no desire to hide her annoyance. Those classes your mother made her attend weren’t doing much for her character, but she was young. No longer a child but not yet a woman, instead stuck in that place in between. You did not yearn for those days…

You did once, longed for the innocence and ignorance that clouded your childhood, but adulthood had long taught you that ignorance was not bliss. Ignorance kept people blind from the truth, and some truths needed to be known.

Your mother’s change in tone alerted you to the carriage that was being pulled into the yard. A soft sigh escaped you as it drew near, a far cry from your sister’s intrigue, eyes wide and neck strained in order to get a better look. The three of you were poised on the steps in front of the grand house, having been patiently waiting for Mr. Holmes’ arrival.

Sherlock Holmes.

The detective whose name was known far and wide was arriving to help none other than your family. Out of all of the possibilities that had taken up residence in your mind, the infamous Sherlock Holmes taking on the case of your missing father had never been one of them. You supposed that you shouldn’t be shocked that the mysterious disappearance of the wealthy patriarch had caught the man’s attention. It was all anyone could seem to talk about these days…

All three of you watched the mountain of a man step out of the carriage, but for three very different reasons. Your sister was curious, intrigued by this new person, a new puzzle to figure out, a thing to study and observe. Outside of father, your sister had never interacted with many males in her life. Your mother looked at the dark-haired gentleman like a beacon of hope, a savior to bring her peace in some form or another. You, on the other hand, you watched him like a snake would a hawk.

If you didn’t keep an eye on him, he could very well eat you alive.

“Mr. Holmes,” your mother rushed to greet him, and the contents of your stomach tossed at the relief you heard in her voice.

In her mind, he had already solved the case and returned your missing father to you. She was comforted by the detective’s mere presence, and you grimaced.

“It is an honor to have you here. Truly. You do not know what it means to me and my girls,” she told him, voice already shaking.

“It is no great deal to me, madam. I wish to find your husband just as much as you do, to bring peace and relief back to your household.”

You shifted on your feet, hands clasped in front of you as the low timber of his voice reached your ears. It was smooth, soft even, but no means wavering. His steady diction exhibited his refined background that you’d heard so much about, and you warily eyed him.

He towered over your mother, making the strong woman look so incredibly fragile to the point that it scared you. You suddenly had the urge to push him away. As your mother conversed with him, your sister tiptoed to your side, admiration in her voice as her lips brushed your ear.

“He is quite handsome, isn’t he?” she said, surprising you.

She had never expressed any interest in boys, but Mr. Holmes clearly struck something in her that even she could not ignore. As you ran your eyes over him, you found you were unable to deny the truth in her words. His features were indeed striking, the kind of face that artists begged to paint. His dark brows and hair complimented his eyes, strong jawline and pink lips moving fluidly as he talked to your mother. His curls gave a boyish quality to his otherwise manly countenance, and you had the brief thought of touching them, wondering if they were as soft as they looked.

“…and these are my daughters,” your mother’s voice reached you as she neared, the imposing man a step behind her.

Both you and your sister greeted him properly, your sister’s name falling from his lips as your mother honed in on her. You sent him a small smile when your mother gestured to you, and he returned it, eyes alight as she introduced you.

“This is my oldest, Y/N. My pride and joy,” she praised.

Your sister squirmed beside you, and you frowned.

“Mother,” you quietly admonished to which she quickly brushed off.

“Oh, hush. She will bring greatness to our name just as her father did. Rest assured, she will be a great help to you,” she told him.

He eyed you with something unknown as your mother continued to speak praises to your name, and you looked away, gaze landing on your sister instead as you took her hand. She had begun to shrink in on herself, and you swallowed down a sigh.

Your mother wanted her youngest to be something she was not. She wanted her to be you, but the young girl couldn’t ever be anyone but herself. And you didn’t understand why mother would want her to. It was a great source of insecurity and frustration for your sister, to constantly be compared to yourself, and it hurt you to see the adventurous girl make herself small.

“Do come in,” your mother ushered him inside.

Mr. Holmes followed her, and you and your sister him, your eyes never straying from his broad form. You’d heard of his skills, his observation, but of course you had never seen the man in action before. At first glance, it seemed like an innocent perusal, as if he were simply taking in the new scenery, admiring it. However, it didn’t take long to realize that he was taking note of every detail. Every plant, every painting that was askew, even the liquor cabinet, eyeing which liquors were consumed the most.

Your mother was prattling on about nonsense, and Mr. Holmes had already begun to work.

“Tell me, when did Mr. Y/L/N disappear?” he suddenly murmured, fingering a plant on a nearby table.

“Tomorrow will make it…what is it? Three weeks without him?”

She looked to the two of you, and you both nodded.

“Three weeks,” she confirmed. “We only noticed his absence the next morning, so it had to have been that Wednesday night. At the very latest, the early hours of Thursday morning.”

“…and you are sure it was a Wednesday?”

She thought for a moment before nodding.

“I’m sure of it. It rained all day the next day, finally making the ground soft enough for my dear Y/N to start her garden. She adores plants,” she told him with a smile.

Your heart sank to your stomach, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you realized what was happening here. Leave it to your mother to prioritize finding you a husband while investigating your father’s disappearance. Mr. Holmes’ gaze met yours, and you held it until he was forced to look away. At least she thought highly enough of you to think you worthy of someone like Sherlock Holmes.

All three of you watched him pace around the living room, a soft hum leaving his lips here and there. Again, he returned to that plant that he’d been fingering, eyeing the carpet beneath the table before finally looking to your mother.

“I’d like to take a look at the rest of the house.”

With a wide smile, she was all too happy to oblige. Your sister bid him goodbye with a soft smile, and you did the same when his eyes met yours, face falling as soon as he turned his back to you.

“Do you think he will find father?”

You glanced up from your breakfast to gaze at your sister, her anxious eyes already on you. You swallowed, wiping your mouth before offering her a shrug.

“Who is to say…”

“He must! He’s the best detective there is. He’s only been here for two days, and already he seems far more diligent than the others,” she quietly argued.

“I cannot argue with that,” you admitted.

You were unnerved by the unfamiliar man. He was indeed great at his job, and his acceptance of your mother’s offer to stay in one of the many rooms here only gave him more time and free reign to gather clues as to where your father could have gone. He spent the first day with your mother, having her recount everything she could remember, anything that could help. The next day was your sister, so you knew it was only a matter of time before he demanded your time and attention as well.

You didn’t like the thought of being alone with the man. His piercing eyes were scarily perceptive, taking note of much more than you could possibly give him credit for. They were ever watchful, and that unnerved you to no end. True to your suspicions, he entered the dining room just as you were finishing up, heavy gaze finding yours, and you bid your sister adieu.

“Your mother said that you went to bed early Wednesday night,” was the first thing he said as soon as you sat down across from him in the dimly lit living room.

The dark curtains allowed for little sunlight to peak through, and shadows casted over his aristocratic features.

“I did.”

He hummed, a faint smile on his lips, so small you could miss it if you blinked.

“Tired?”

“Extremely. I don’t sleep very well,” you honestly told him. “…and so I figured the earlier I rested my head, the earlier my eyes would follow suit.”

He nodded at that, eyes trailing over the room.

“Does gardening help with that?”

“…sometimes,” you answered.

“Does your mother or sister help out with that? Or is it just you?”

“It’s just me.”

His eyes were on yours again, gaze inquiring, yet guarded. He was probing for something, and you knew it was his job, but it filled your mouth with distaste.

“…so you are the only one who attends to the plants in the house?”

“Yes.”

He stared at you for a moment before releasing a small sigh. He stood, and you did as well, eyeing him as he paused at your movement before slowly beginning to pace about the room.

“I am here to help…Ms. Y/L/N.”

His voice reeked of well-hidden frustration, and you sighed as well.

“I know that,” you responded, briefly closing your eyes. “…and I am cooperating, am I not?”

He paused, and his eyes met yours again, flickering between your irises before humming.

“Indeed, you are, but I want you to cooperate because you want to. Not because you feel like you have to. I am merely here to help, to find your father’s whereabouts, so I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“I am,” you lied.

He knew that you were lying, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, but he let it go.

“Your mother and sister said that you all searched the grounds for him all day. Enlisting the help of the police for the next week and a half before the search was eventually called off,” he suddenly said, moving on.

“Yes. No stone was left unturned. My mother felt it was best to leave this in the hands of detectives, but the lot of them were…incompetent at best.”

Disdain and disgust coated your words, and Mr. Holmes eyed you.

“…and at worst?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pursing your lips.

“Greedy perverts trying to get their hands on our money,” you admitted.

You threw him a humorless smile, and the corner of his lips quirked up just the slightest as he turned away.

“None of them sparked your fancy?”

He was teasing, and you fought back a smile.

“No. I don’t daydream about marriage, Mr. Holmes. Of course, it is what my mother wishes for me, and I know that I am to settle down eventually for it is the way of the world, but I am certainly in no rush. Marriage does not appeal to me in the slightest.”

It was the one wedge in you and your mother’s relationship: your lack of prospects. However, no amount of snide comments from your mother about your age would sway you.

“Surely, your parents’ marriage must have softened your heart just a little…”

When you looked up, his eyes were once again on you, something in them that you could not name, and you held his gaze, a fond smile on your lips.

“Their marriage was like any other, I suppose. Of course, they had the occasional spat over the most trivial of things like all married couples do, but they were happy,” you replied.

He simply nodded, gaze lingering before pulling his eyes away, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say reluctantly so. His casual interrogation that wasn’t really an interrogation didn’t last for much longer, and somehow, you felt more nervous leaving the room than you did when you entered it.

Your mother and sister did not seem to share your sentiments. Indeed, they were ever comfortable around the dark-haired man. Part of you wondered if the holes in their heart that were left by father were temporarily being filled by Mr. Holmes. Having a man around the house again surely brought some mild comfort to them, even if they knew it was only momentary.

They happily invited him to eat with you all, participate in small talk, even showing him your garden. You felt that it was all unnecessary, distracting even. Mr. Holmes had a job to do, and the sooner he left, the better. You didn’t know how much more of his analyzing gaze you could take.

It didn’t matter that he would be engaged in conversation with your sister or mother for his eyes always found their way back to you somehow. He wasn’t a man of many words, but it seemed that you were an exception. Your mother did not miss how he always attempted to draw you into conversation, get you to talk more. It was becoming rather tiresome to explain to her that the man was simply doing his job.

Hell, it was becoming tiresome to remind yourself of that. It was his job to pry, to observe, to snoop even. The day that you’d found him in your chambers, standing by your bed, gazing around with his hands folded behind his back, you’d almost suffered a heart attack. It took the will of God to remind you that he was a detective, and that he was simply doing his job.

Sherlock Holmes was doing what he was hired to do.

And that was the problem.

You could hear footsteps approaching from below, and you paused on your reading, sticking a finger in the page before closing your book. The branch that you’d chosen to lounge on was higher than the usual, and you craned your head ever so slightly to look down below.

Mr. Holmes decided to make himself at home beneath the tree, leaning back against the trunk. His suit jacket was gone, one knee bent, and you watched as the autumn breeze ruffled his soft curls. You blinked, wondering to yourself how he managed to look both intimidating and vulnerable at the same time?

“No one in town seems to have any legitimate idea of where your father could have gone.”

His voice traveled to you from below, and you chuckled before you could stop yourself.

“No, I would imagine not. Despite what they may think, none of the townspeople know my father, at all,” you told him.

You could feel his eyes on you as you descended, and you brushed your dress off when you finally made it to the ground. He looked up at you with such intrigue, brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concentration. You cleared your throat.

“You’re staring, Mr. Holmes.”

He slowly blinked at you.

“Indeed, I am,” he said, rising to join you. “I do apologize. I was having a rather strong sense of déjà vu.”

Now it was your turn to frown in confusion, and he continued.

“My sister…she loves to hide away in a tree with a good book just as well as you.”

He ran his eyes over your face, drinking you in, and the hair on your arms stood on end.

“…you remind me of her in some ways,” he murmured.

“Well, she sounds like a remarkable young woman then,” you complimented.

“She is getting there,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “Although, just like her, so much of you remains a mystery to me.”

You squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze, looking away from his narrowed eyes to walk towards your garden. You could both feel and hear him behind you, and you felt your face grow hot as the weight of his stare pressed down on you.

“You have a rather impressive garden,” he praised.

You looked to him, a small smile slow to spread along your lips.

“Thank you.”

“Crown Imperials,” he noted, and your smile fell. “They seem to be a favorite of yours.”

“They are. The bright blooms are so pretty to me,” you truthfully replied.

“You spend a great deal of time out here,” he hummed.

You bent down to finger a petal, a genuine smile on your face now.

“I find comfort out here. Looking at this garden, basking in its presence, puts me at ease. Flowers that bloom in the colder months, when all the leaves have fallen and the animals have scurried away to hibernate, symbolize rebirth to me. New beginnings,” you whispered, eyes unfocused as you let your hand fall.

You slowly stood, stomach flipping when your eyes met his as you turned around. His hands were at his side, broad form much closer than you remembered, and your eyes zeroed in on the way he flexed his fingers. Mr. Holmes opened his mouth to speak, but you interrupted him.

“I should get back inside to assist my sister with her studies,” you told him.

You bid him goodbye and scurried past him before he could utter a word.

The next night, you made your way downstairs in the darkness as you did every night. Your mother and sister were fast asleep in their rooms, Mr. Holmes having long gone to bed as well. With a soft sigh, you approached the front door, locking it with a resounding click. You pressed your hand against the wood, heart aching for your mother, pitying her even, before you turned around.

“Why do you lock the door every night?”

A scream threatened to escape your throat, but you swallowed it down as light flooded the foyer. You pressed your hand to your chest, glaring at the detective as he stood across from you…dressed for bed. You blinked at the sight of his bare chest, and you quickly looked away, face heating up.

“Mr. Holmes,” you slowly began, forcing your heart to slow. “…you frightened me.”

“You did not answer my question,” was his only response, and you frowned at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

He took a step towards you, and you resisted the urge to take a step back.

“Mrs. Y/L/N leaves it unlocked every night in hopes that her husband, your father, will return. She told me so, and you come down every night to lock it. Why?”

You heaved a sigh, guilt flooding you.

“…because it is sad. I hope for his return just as much as my mother, but I will not be so foolish as to leave me and my family completely vulnerable while we sleep.”

He didn’t respond, so you continued.

“My father, her husband, is God knows where, and I understand that she is worried, but she is beginning to lose all sense of reason ever since his disappearance. Someone must keep this house together,” you complained.

He eventually nodded at that, seeming to accept this, and your eyes fell to the floor, uncomfortable with his close proximity and inappropriate state of dress. Your eyes caught the end of your nightgown, and you realized with a start that you both were inappropriately dressed for this conversation. Especially one so late at night. You shuddered to imagine what your mother would think if she came downstairs this very moment.

You looked up, startled, when he stepped closer, and your throat felt incredibly dry all of a sudden. Your sister’s words that first day came back to you, and you thought to yourself that Sherlock Holmes was much more handsome than she knew. You took a step back, back grazing the door as you eyed his face, him doing the same.

“You brew medicine for your mother, making salves as well,” he suddenly murmured, and you frowned. “I saw them in her room. The herbs used to make them I found in the kitchen.”

Your frown deepened, unsure of how this was relevant to anything.

“I did not know she was unwell,” he probed.

You cleared your throat, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“She isn’t…unwell, I mean. At least…not really. As she said, it rained that Thursday after my father’s disappearance. She was worried and distraught and did not take note of the slippery steps. She fell, and the salve and medicine are simply to help with the bruising and the pain,” you explained.

He only hummed at that, and you made to move around him, a bidding of goodnight on your lips, but he blocked your path. You looked to him with wide eyes, heart beginning to race again, although you didn’t know why.

Even in the thin and exposing nightgown, you felt your body heat up under his heavy gaze, his eyes running over your frame in a way that you were familiar with. However, the disgust that normally coursed through you at such an action was nowhere to be found. Instead, something unfamiliar swirled in the pit of your stomach, and this scared you.

It must have been written on your face, that fear, or at the very least visible in your eyes for Mr. Holmes took a step back. You noticed that his jaw was clenched, face pinched in a pensive manner that was becoming all too familiar to you. He suddenly wished you a goodnight, and you did the same, feeling his heated gaze searing into your back as you ascended the stairs.

Sleep did not come easy to you. In fact, it smoothly evaded you for days, and the already dark circles beneath your eyes became even more prominent. Your mother and sister were used to your inconsistent sleep schedule, accustomed to the haggard appearance your face would take sometimes. If Mr. Holmes noticed, however, he did not mention it. Of course, that was a silly thing to think. He noticed everything, and it was no surprise to you to find him in the lounge room late one night.

The flames licked at the inside of the fireplace, casting a low light over the room. His daunting form was seated in your father’s chair, and neither one of you greeted each other as you made your way into the room. Sometimes on particularly trying nights, you liked to curl up with a book by the fireplace in hopes that it would lull you to sleep. You had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Holmes knew this, hence his presence, and you sighed.

You didn’t wish to be alone with him, and you had every intention of making your way back to bed, but some part of you scolded yourself for your treatment of the detective. He was only doing his job, after all. You knew that your wariness of him was no fault of his, and you guiltily made your way to your father’s bar.

“Would you like a drink before I head back to bed?” you asked him, already reaching for a glass.

He didn’t respond, and you glanced up to find his gaze still on the roaring flames, a hand resting against his mouth, eyes thoughtful. You reached for one of your father’s more expensive selections just as Mr. Holmes spoke.

“He’s beneath the garden…isn’t he?”

You did not falter in your movements, but you could not stop the way your stomach churned, threatening to expel everything you’d eaten that day. You set the bottle down, and your hand shook around it. Your lips parted, but no words came out, and you snapped them shut, swallowing.

“I beg your pardon?” you eventually responded.

“I took on this case to pass some time really. It seemed simple enough to me. Your father had been murdered…that much was clear,” he quietly said.

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden, and your heart clenched in your chest, painfully so.

“However, it was only a matter of who.”

You felt tears spring forth, but they held off, collecting in your eyes as he continued.

“Your mother seemed the obvious choice, too obvious even, and I was proven right when I met her. She loved your father dearly, and I’d be a fool to think she could ever bring harm to him. I considered your sister next. Naturally. She is impulsive and wild, but that is precisely why she was ruled out. She’s not, how would my brother say it, refined?”

You briefly closed your eyes in defeat.

“No. Not like you…”

He stood to face you, and the tears finally spilled over when his troubled gaze met yours in the low lighting.

“She has not mastered the skills to truly be a lady. She has not learned to hold her tongue or hide her thoughts or school her features so that they are the picture-perfect vision of decorum and poise…to show the world only what you wish for them to see.”

His smooth voice did not bring you comfort, and you fought to hold his gaze as he neared you.

“…but you have. You’ve mastered it quite well, in fact.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out, only a shaky exhale.

“Many people in town mentioned your mother’s clumsiness. Her constant aches and faint bruises…bruises you’ve been tending to for a while…”

He stopped before you, eyes somber.

“He was hitting her. Probably much more than that. When did you first discover it?”

Again, words failed you, and he shook his head, a dark curl brushing his forehead.

“That tidbit is not relevant, so don’t bother to answer that.”

“Mr. Holmes-.”

“You referred to their marriage in the past tense. You lock the door at night because you know that he is never coming home.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Crown imperial is an interesting flower to plant, most people avoiding them because of the putrid smell. Of course, a flower like that would cover up the smell of decaying flesh rather nicely,” he mused. “I know it happened in the living room.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“That plant on the table…there’s hardly any soil in it at all, the only one in the entire house like it. That and the pinches of soil on the carpet beneath it tells me that it had been knocked over. It matches the few grains found in your sheets,” he explained.

You blinked at him.

“You were evidently in a hurry to clean it up and get back into bed. After all, it must have been rather early in the morning at that point… This was after you buried him correct?”

Reluctantly, you gave a shaky nod, confirming his accusations for the first time. He pressed his hand to his mouth again, the other on his hip as he paced, brows furrowed.

“The only thing I cannot seem to figure out is how you did it…”

“…belladonna,” you softly said, speaking for the first time that evening.

He looked at you, and you held his gaze, tears at bay for the moment.

“My father never misses a nightcap,” you told him with a shrug. “Large doses of belladonna can be-.”

“Fatal,” he finished for you, and you looked away.

“So…what happens now? Surely you mean to turn me in…hand me over to the police to answer for my crime,” you tearfully said.

He didn’t say anything, and the only noise in the room for a while was that of the crackling fireplace. Eventually, you heard him approach you again, and you flinched when his hands landed on your arms. Reluctantly, you looked at him, and his eyes flitted over your face, unsure of what to settle on. His thumbs brushed along your bare skin, and your throat bobbed.

“I should,” he whispered to himself, brows drawn together as he studied you. “I should turn you in immediately.”

He stepped closer, and you could feel his body heat, practically feel his heartbeat beneath his chest. His hands tightened on you for a brief moment before loosening his hold.

“…but I can’t,” he confessed through clenched teeth.

Confusion filled you, and your lips parted in shock. His eyes seemed to be drawn to the action, gaze lingering on your mouth for far too long.

“I…I don’t understand…”

He drank you in, gaze vexed, like you confounded him. One of his hands slid to your neck, fingers brushing your jaw, and you sharply inhaled, lips trembling.

“Even now…I still cannot figure you out,” he murmured to himself.

Your confusion grew, frown deepening, and you watched as he suddenly blinked, taking a step back. It took longer for him to finally let you go, and his face appeared strained, movements stiff as if it took everything in him to do so. He took a few more steps back, getting as far away from you as possible before he spoke again.

“There is no doubt in my mind that you very well could kill me in my sleep, but I trust that you won’t.”

Your eyes widened when he made to leave, and you called to him. He paused in the doorway, fists clenched at his side as he refused to look at you.

“W-what…what will you tell them? What will you tell my mother?”

Your voice was but a whisper, disbelief coursing through you at this turn of events. His shoulders heaved as he sighed.

“…nothing for you to worry about…Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of your name falling from his lips, and before you could process what he had said, he was gone.

“He…he’s simply run off?”

You leaned your head against the wall as you listened in on the conversation taking place in the dining room, and your heart constricted as her soft sobs reached your ears. You couldn’t imagine the feeling of fretting over someone for weeks, fearful for their wellbeing only to discover that they weren’t hurt at all. The opposite, in fact.

Only, it was a lie.

As you listened to Mr. Holmes spin the believable tale of your father running off with some mistress, you thought to yourself that the truth would have been better. Your mother could move past the truth. She could heal from the truth. How was she meant to heal from this?

You quietly pushed yourself off of the wall and made your way past the doorway. As you passed, your eyes caught those of Mr. Holmes, his heavy stare boring into you, and guilt tore through you as you caught sight of your mother’s distraught form.

No, the truth would have been far better. Your mother, the loving and strong woman that she was, deserved to know the truth, and you intended to give it to her.

Hours later when darkness fell, you found yourself outside, yanking out flower and vegetable roots. Thunder rumbled far off in the distance, and a light sprinkle of rain dampened your hair and dress. Tears soaked your cheeks as you dug through the dirt, sobs wracking your frame. You had buried him deep, and now that had come back to haunt you.

Or so you thought.

A startled gasp left your lips as firm hands yanked you to your feet from behind, and your eyes were wide as you were spun around to face none other than Sherlock Holmes. Lightning flashed behind him, illuminating his angry features, and you shrank in on yourself underneath his harsh gaze.

“What the devil do you think you are doing?”

More tears fell, and you shook your head.

“I cannot do this! I cannot go along with this lie any longer,” you told him.

His eyes softened, but his jaw ticked at your words.

“Y/N,” he sighed your name.

“Thank you for what you’ve done, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot bear to see my mother hurting like this over a lie. The truth…the truth will be much easier for her heart to bear,” you gasped.

You fought to get out of his hold, but he proved to be as strong as he looked.

“I cannot allow you to do this-.”

“Why not? You’ve solved the case! The great Sherlock Holmes figured it out, and soon my name and face will be plastered on papers everywhere as everyone learns what I did,” you cried.

“You were protecting your mother,” he argued.

“In the eyes of the law, I am still a murderess. I have reason to believe that you would agree with them,” you scoffed. “…why are you protecting me?”

He didn’t respond, and you huffed, jerking in his hold again, but he wouldn’t budge. The rain was coming down a little harder now, and your vision was blurry from both the weather and your tears. Your knees started to buckle as your movements slowed, and you would have collapsed to the ground if Mr. Holmes hadn’t been holding you.

He leaned you against your tree, and your fingers twisted into his rain-soaked shirt as tears skipped down your cheeks. He still hadn’t answered your question, and your eyes reluctantly met his. He looked at you like he had been looking at you for weeks, and that unfamiliar feeling returned…as well as the fear.

“You are not nearly as fragile as I initially thought you to be,” he quietly said, puzzling you.

He continued before you could voice your confusion.

“…but you are not nearly as tough as I thought you to be either.”

He reached up to brush his thumb over your lip, and you jerked, eyes widening at the action. Your heart felt like it was threatening to leap from your chest, and a thought suddenly occurred to you that had never occurred to you before.

“You have plagued my thoughts for weeks,” he confessed, making you freeze. “…entering my dreams the very moment I first had my suspicions.”

“Mr. Holmes…”

“Who would think that someone like you would be capable of such a thing,” he mused, genuine bewilderment on his features. “…and yet…I still want you so.”

Dread began to fester in your gut, and you pushed against his chest, but it proved to be useless. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes boring into your own.

“Sh-Sherlock,” you said, hoping that hearing his name from your lips would snap him out of it, knock some clarity into him, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

His fingers tightened, enough to make you wince, and his eyes fluttered close, a long exhale leaving him.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name like it was a prayer. “How do you manage…to be half heaven…and half hell?”

The words had barely left his lips before he fiercely pressed them against yours, startling you. A horrified gasp left you, and he clutched you to him, breathing you in as he moved his mouth over yours. He only seemed to take note of his actions when your palm met his cheek.

You stumbled back, hands grasping along your tree as he took a step back. His lips were swollen, hair damp and eyes troubled as he blinked at you. You pressed one hand into the tree behind you, the other to your chest as you stared at him in fear. Your chest was heaving just as much as his.

“Forgive me,” he whispered.

He swallowed, at least having the gall to look ashamed. You stared at one another for a painfully long time, ruminating on what he’d done, the line that he’d crossed. You didn’t move, too afraid to, and Sherlock’s jaw clenched as he eyed you.

His hands curled into fists at his side, features twisted with a myriad of emotions that you couldn’t place. There seemed to be a struggle going on, and your lip trembled as he dragged his eyes over your wet frame, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His dark hair was damp from the rain, the strands curling around his ears and kissing his forehead.

His lips parted ever so slightly, and he straightened as his eyes finally met yours again. You watched the way his nostrils flared, a carnal hunger in his eyes that terrified you to the bone.

“Forgive me,” he whispered again, apologizing for something that he hadn’t done, but was instead about to do.

You turned and ran past your tree, but he was already upon you before you could even get in three steps. His muscular arms wrapped around you, holding you to him as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, lips trailing kisses over your damp skin.

You reached back to tangle your fingers in his hair, attempting to pull his head away from you, but he only groaned against your skin. Fresh tears escaped, and you shuddered as he pressed himself against you, hard and threatening against your dress.

Your back met your tree, and Sherlock was quick in pressing his lips to yours. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, noises of protest escaping your lips as you pushed against him. You were sobbing when he finally broke the kiss, and you shook your head, pleas falling from your lips.

“Don’t do this,” you begged, knowing you were no match for him and accepting that pleading was your only chance. “Please, don’t- you’ll ruin me.”

Your eyes searched his.

“I’ll never be able to find a husband, to give my mother some form of happiness again after what I did. Let me make her happy,” you shakily whispered.

His brows were furrowed as he gazed at you, and his hands felt incredibly hot on your waist. The light rain had passed now, leaving only a partly cloudy sky and a bright moon to shine down on you. Sherlock closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours, thumbs tracing patterns into your waist.

“…I suppose I will be your husband then.”

He gently shushed you as you cried, softly pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t budge no matter how hard you pushed against him, and you shook as he hooked one of your legs onto his waist. One of his hands pressed into the back of your head while the other tore at the skirt of your dress, all the while he kept you pinned between him and the tree.

It suddenly occurred to you that this was your punishment. This was your comeuppance for what you’d done. It didn’t matter that your father hurt your mother on a regular basis, murder was wrong, and you were being punished for it.

You cried harder when you both felt and heard him releasing himself, and the cool air you felt against your core told you that Sherlock had ripped away every barrier between you two. His lips were gentle on yours, and his entry did not differ from that.

He was slow in pushing inside of you, and you hit against his shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream as he stretched you. Your nails dug into him when he could go no further, and a long moan lowly left his lips, satisfaction dripping from every note. You blinked back tears as he pressed his hands into the bottom of your thighs, keeping them at his waist as he held you to him.

He slowly moved within you, and one hand held onto him to keep from falling while the other dug into the bark of the tree behind you. He kissed you again, and you turned your head away. He let out a soft growl of frustration before pulling away from the tree.

You yelped and shuddered when your back met the cold damp ground, but your yelp turned into a gasp when he firmly thrust into you. It was a feeling unlike any other you’d ever known, and you squeezed your eyes shut, one hand fisted into his shirt while the other did the same to the grass.

You felt full, but it was an uneasy feeling, like you shouldn’t be full. Every drag of his member pulled a whimper from you, and your face crumbled when he pressed kisses to it, trying to bring some comfort to you while he had his way with you.

“You feel exactly as I dreamed you would,” he whispered.

You sniffed beneath him, core protesting his assault, no matter how gentle it was. You pushed against him again, but he gripped your hand, bringing it to his mouth, and a shiver traveled down your spine as he brushed his lips over the inside of your wrist. He held your gaze as he held your wrist to his lips, and the intensity behind his eyes scared you.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I have every intention of marrying you.”

Somehow, the fact that he was telling the truth scared you more than the thought of him abandoning you. He was going to take you away from your mother and sister, and then who would look out for them? A shaky sob escaped your lips, and he shushed you again, hips curving into yours over and over.

“No one will ever discover what you did. I’ll see to it,” he told you, kissing you again. “…and I’ll make sure your family is well cared for.”

His breath hitched, pace changing, and your toes curled on their own accord.

“Why?” you tearfully gasped as he nipped at your neck. “Why…?”

He paused his movements, holding himself inside of you as he looked down at you. You felt defeated, and the only thing left was confusion, bafflement at why you. He brushed his fingers over your tear-stained cheek, eventually ghosting them over your swollen lips. Sherlock looked at you like you were the most magnificent creature he’d ever seen, and your stomach turned.

“…so much of you is still a mystery to me, and even if I never figure you out…”

He brushed his soft lips against yours.

“…at least you are mine.”

  ~

tags:  @darkficreposter​​ @xoxabs88xox​​ @harryspet​​ @readermia​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @nickyl316h​​ @captainchrisstan​​ @sebabestianstan101​​ @villanellevi​​ @lokislastlove​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @coconutqueen21​​ @hurricanerin​ @trinittyy​ @hyoyeoniie​ @kellyn1604​ @sherrybaby14​ @jtargaryen18​

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

fine line - a close reading

gonna cry bc i’m at the end, gonna cry bc it’s fine line.

(x x x)

want to give the same disclaimer as with lights up: this song is so layered, so multi-faceted, that i could never hope to give an exhaustive analysis. due to its vagueness and openness for interpretation, i assume that everyone, just like me, has their own ideas about it and has attached importance to it in ways that no one else’s words can or should alter. this song means the world to me for reasons that aren’t necessarily in this post, and that’s how it is with art that touches us deeply. i’ve tried my best to pull it apart, lay it bare, spread it open, if you will, so it’s almost as free as it can be for you all to form your own opinion on it. in the synthesis i will make my own conclusions, but feel free to ignore that if yours are totally different. i’m just one set of brain and heart taking in fine line and projecting whatever i think is right onto it. alright, let’s go

fine line, track 12

sung in falsetto

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

Put a price on emotion

pouring emotions into the art you create: how much is genuine / how much do you show - line between being authentic to your audience and giving away too much, wanting to keep things to yourself and not feeling truthful with what you’ve written

exploits of the industry: lay your soul bare - or the exact opposite, some pretend emotion - to score that hit

I'm looking for something to buy

cynical. emotions aren’t genuine, right? where can i go buy some?

～ lights up themes. fake life, industry, being a sell-out

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

“you” = career, music, Harry Styles™. devoted to the craft, to the job, all the ups and downs of it, despite the hardships it brings 

“man” is deliberate: can be seen as an offhand interjection, like “man, that’s rough”, but nothing is casually placed in this song. “man” is: The Man, the heads in the industry, the people pulling the strings. The man in Harry, the man he’s been in the media all these years, the part he’s played/had to play, the man that’s in him

⟶ “hate you”: hate for industry shit, self-hate created by having to play pretend (～ only angel analysis, the persona of the Bukowski womaniser)

“sometimes” - it’s not fucked up all the time

“you” could also be a lover, but the sudden “hate” there then would be for that person, which is absent in any other song about them, doesn’t make any sense

I don't want to fight you

And I don't want to sleep in the dirt

like there’s a choice to me made, but he doesn’t want to make it: either I fight this “you” or I sleep in the dirt

“you” as the industry: if he doesn’t fight them, he might end up being a beggar, lose all his self-worth bc he gave in to everything they asked/told him to do

“you” as himself: fight your instincts, part of who you are/the persona. if he doesn’t fight to figure himself out, though, he fears he’ll also lose

“sleep in the dirt” as a sense of rejection, as well

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

drinks to cope - falling, only angel, from the dining table - or to be braver and confront emotions better - tbsl

who is “we”? who is “her”?

narrative of “you” as “lover” further disproven: if “I” and the lover get together over drinks and “I” starts thinking of “her”?

⟷ “her” could be the lover, but then who is “you”? the industry? some other person, besides that lover, harry is devoted to? multiple lovers, all of a sudden? no.

⟶ “I” and “you” are all harry, that get to thinking of “her” because she is in daydreams with him. the narrative that harry is fighting a part of him, the persona he has (had) to play bc of industry limits, makes most sense. that persona is within him now, and part of his work, but all of him, “we”, is begging to come into the light - of which she is a huge part

We'll be a fine line

balancing act. let everything coexist but pay attention that those lines don’t get crossed the wrong way. what we are, what i am, is a fine line between what makes us go under and what lets us thrive

we will be: determination to fulfil this prophecy, statement of fact “we always will be”

“we’ll be a fine line”: other way of interpreting it is that on both sides of that line is what entails “we”, all that is harry. what merges on that fine line is where it’s just right, when harry is fully himself in every way

“fine line” can also be an echo of criticism, bigotry, in the style of: it’s a fine line between being simply flamboyant and queer, between dressing like that and people thinking you’re a transvestite or summat (cause we wouldn’t want that, now, would we) - “we’ll be a fine line” could be owning all of it. putting himself in the middle of all those messy lines, as someone queer without a category

Test of my patience

patience with himself - kindness to self - took a long time to figure shit out and it was a challenge

waiting for change: industry and its allowances/openness

There's things that we'll never know

my favorite line

“we” = harry / harry and company / us in general, all of us listening 

～ tpwk “i don’t need all the answers”: deep sense of acceptance

peace to be found in accepting this!!

You sunshine, you temptress

“sunshine” - as in all the love songs (blue skies, sunflowers, summer days…): lover - possible that there are multiple “you”s in this song?

sunshine could ofc also be directed at the temptress, still

female “temptress” - “i’ll get to thinking of her” - she - it’s tempting for harry to think of her all the time, to lose himself in the “her” in him

other interpretation for “temptress”: woman he knows with negative influence in his life - resemblance to woman “you flower, you feast”, so echo of Bukowski ～ only angel, kiwi (my sunshine, my love, who is involved with this temptress…)

My hand’s at risk, I fold

⟷ tpwk “dropping into the deep end”

not showing his cards just yet / forfeits

anxious to show all of him, to take the chance, with all the risks and consequences involved

Crisp trepidation

I’ll try to shake this soon

nervousness, anxiety - about (not) taking (enough) chances, (not) laying himself bare (release of the album that reveals much more than before)

“crisp” fresh, this feeling is unfamiliar - change is coming “soon”

sense of agency: I can get rid of this feeling by my own volition and make these changes - hesitant, insecure: “try”

wants to be braver. he’s not going back, but still needs to calmly coax himself further and further into the light, out into the open (“we’ll be alright”)

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

(can anyone else hear “spread thin” like a whisper under “spreading”? or am i imagining things.)

“you” is back - the only way of knowing “you” is to spread them open - the physical

to spread someone open - very literal, don’t need to paint the picture, or to lay bare, to lay it all out 

⟶ “you” as himself - the only way of knowing who i am is by doing this: writing this album, performing these songs, letting others listen in and form their own interpretations, let this world grow where i’m laid bare and OPEN and exist as this person who has issues, who is angry, who doesn’t know who he is a lot of the time, but is still so happy to be here - let it spread and let it all circle back to me so i can grow deeper into myself

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

“we” = h & self, h & lover, h & fans

collectiveness from tpwk

(notes on a piano sounding like drops, like he’s emerged from the water and dripping dry)

SYNTHESIS

Everything about this song is plural. Personal pronouns are all over the place. I, you, her, we. The sound is incredibly layered, with Harry’s own voice echoing through its verses like he’s singing to himself in an empty cave. Meanings can be attached to every word like it’s a wax tablet used too many times. What Harry has said in interviews for once holds pretty true to the actual meaning, in my opinion. 

“It felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.” (Capital FM)

This can mean a lot of things, and I think it means all of the things, of course. It means Fine Line is a summary of all of his emotions he visited on the album, of the things he’s laid bare. And it means that the actual process was also described, as one that can be frustrating and challenging, with added industry shit. 

Harry has expressed straightforward gratefulness to his label for "leaving (him) alone” while making the album and that speaks volumes. This time, he had the chance to make his art without the constant interference of a label, which meant he could weave in criticism as well. “Put a price on emotion” is first and foremost a critique on the industry. It’s the first line of the song, setting the tone for the interpretation of this song is about the risks I took while making this album. It involves criticism on an industry that creates such an atmosphere that only a certain type of music and artist breaks through or can be successful, that limits people in their personal expression. Convinces them that it’s better that way. That it’s better to hide who they love because the general public won’t accept them. That it’s better to create a song about a fake emotion than be honest. Harry loves writing songs and being on stage, but it’s taken a while for him to be fully comfortable there as a solo artist and bloom into the person that could make Fine Line. He loves his career, but it’s also limited his freedom in ways beyond our comprehension, and it’s exploited him to the point where he didn’t know who he was, in ways that have clearly taken a toll on his mental wellbeing. To a point where he finishes this album reassuring himself, most of all, that everything will be alright.

That process of making Fine Line obviously includes Harry confronting emotions he hadn’t before. He has stated that he experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows while making it. There are things he hates, he was fighting but doesn’t want to (anymore), uncertainties he was trying to figure out but had to accept he couldn’t, risks he still doesn’t know he can take without shaking. At the centre of it all is this sense of “knowing you.” The different personal pronouns in the song paint a fractured picture, which is ultimately deliberate. That the “you” Harry is devoted to and can hate sometimes doesn’t line up with “her,” that the end focus does seem to be this “you” that is mentioned in the same breath as “man” and “temptress,” forming the “we” together with “I”. 

After having songs like Lights Up, She, Falling and even TPWK, one of the central themes on the album has undoubtedly been self-discovery, in all its pain and glory. There are no female pronouns on the album besides, obviously, in She, and then here, in Fine Line. She is about a man living with a woman “just in his head”, who “sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend.” It is very clearly a trans narrative, the story of someone struggling to put into words what they’re experiencing in terms of gender. To a point that they fantasise about running away. Fine Line brings the ideas of knowing what it all means, which Lights Up kicks off (“do you know who you are?”), Falling deepens (“what am I now?”) and Treat People With Kindness turns on its head (“I don’t need all the answers”), together. Harry is still doubtful, and the questions asked earlier in the album haven’t disappeared, but he has accepted that “some things we’ll never know.” His aim, however, is still “knowing you.” 

To have Fine Line, as the summary of these emotions of self-growth and self-discovery, echo that one female pronoun, speaks volumes. It is a direct reference to She, to that story about gender. “Her” in this song refers to “she (who) lives in daydreams with (him).” The one who still only fully comes out when they’ve had a drink. The one he’s still working to include in who he is, as he tries to figure out who he is, all of it. The song where he sings in falsetto, just like on Fine Line. Of which he sang the first verse an octave lower live at the forum, switching between those voices, those perspectives. That’s also why “you” in this song is also Harry to me. We get this fractured sense of self, this “I” and “you” conversing over a drink, this “you��� Harry is devoted to and wants to figure out. “You” and “I” form “we” and all of them are Harry. The lines are blurry on purpose, there is no way to figure out where “you” ends and “I” begins. 

“You sunshine, you temptress” is the most enigmatic line in that respect, and to me blurs those lines even more between the pronouns. “You” is suddenly also identified by a female noun. And no this isn’t about some kind of love triangle. “Sunshine” aligns with all the odes to his lover in the rest of the album. So what does that mean? That there are multiple “you”s in this song, meaning that Harry is addressing both his lover and a temptress? So “her” he’ll get to thinking of, the only other female pronoun used in the song, is identified as a temptress, but tempting to do what? To take risks? And no I won’t forget the “man, I can hate you sometimes,” where "man” is not a casual interjection but an identifier of “you.” 

Or is it an echo of “the light” from Golden’s “bring me back to the light” and Light’s Up’s “step into the light”? So that the “sunshine” symbolises being in the clear, being out of the darkness running through his heart, the darkness caused by not knowing who you are. “You sunshine,” you beacon of light. “You temptress,” risk-taker and source of anxiety. You, one I need to spread open to figure out, to know about, source of happiness and despair, one I’m devoted to but also hate. You, man, you, temptress. You there, in the mirror looking back at me. 

All of you, and myself included, we’ll be a fine line. And we’ll be alright.

This song is about all of that. The self in art, the self on its own, the other, the journey, the chances, the fears, the passion. Hope. Reassurance. Confidence. And, most importantly, that everything will be alright in the end.

x

read all my lyric analyses here

[imagine-loki]

My Sweet Rose, Chapter 1

TITLE: My Sweet Rose CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are secretly a little but no one knows, one day you decide to check out a local BDSM club to try and get a feel of the community. You meet a handsome stranger that, over the next few months, shows you all about the lifestyle. However, one day… he vanishes without a word. 

RATING: M NOTES: Daddy/little dynamic & Flashbacks will be in Bold.

I’m not sure how long this story will be, I’m thinking no more than 5 chapters though. But I saw the imagine and omg I love it, had to do something with it. Haven’t written anymore of it yet but just HAD to share the first chapter so far, oops! lol. 

-

Rosie had been working and living in the Avengers tower for a week now, it was going really well. And it was helping to keep her mind occupied, getting her back on her feet after such a rough year.

She was a PA for Stark, and the other Avengers if they needed anything too. It was helping her cousin, Pepper out a lot. As Stark was very demanding nowadays and the others were becoming that way too.

It was also good for Rosie. She’d had a really tough year. She met someone a few years ago in a BDSM club, it had been her first time there after spending months building up the courage to go. She was a little, and had been wanting to find someone that she could feel safe with to explore that side of her.

She met a man, who was charming and handsome. Kind, funny. They fell in love, or so she thought anyway. He was the perfect Daddy Dom for her, teaching her everything and looking after her. She adored and loved him so much. Which is why when one day he just vanished, it was all the harder for her.

He just never returned after saying he had to go home to visit his family, who lived in Iceland apparently. But he did that regularly and always returned to her. But not that time. To say she was heartbroken when there was not even a call or a text from him explaining why was an understatement.

His name was Loki. And it became clear what happened a few months later after his disappearance, she saw him on the news. Loki, the God Of Mischief, was trying to take over the world. She couldn’t believe it and thought she was dreaming when she realised it had was her Loki. He looked different in the heavy armour, he looked scary.

But she thought no wonder he left her, he was a God and a Prince after all. What would he have wanted with her in the first place anyway?

She had tried a couple of times to date someone else, but never made it past the first date. As they just… weren’t him. No matter how often she tried to just forget about him. It was difficult.

She’d fallen into a downward spiral, not even able to go to work. So she had lost her job and was on benefits for a while. She became really anxious and nervous.

But here, in the tower, she was trying to turn herself around again. It had been one man, even if he had been her first true love, in her heart anyway. She knew she would heal, in time. Even if it had been over a year.

Rosie had been so engrossed in sorting out some paperwork for Tony that she never noticed the newcomer coming into the kitchen. She barely even registered Thor introducing her to him. ‘This is Rosie, our PA, she’s new here.’

Not until she heard an all too familiar voice responding that sent shivers down her spine and sent her heart racing.

‘Rosie… My sweet Rose?’

There was only one person who had ever called her that.

Slowly she looked up, eyes widening, standing before her was Loki.

‘Oh my sweet Rose, you’ve done Daddy so proud.’ Loki purred gently as he cradled her in his lap.

She felt so safe and secure, curled up against him as he wrapped a blanket around her naked body. Knowing how cold she always got after they’d played together quite so intensely.

Loki rocked her back and fore softly as he ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her. She was trembling a bit after her orgasms, Loki had pushed her almost past her limit, but he knew. He always knew when to stop at the right time.

He was an intense Daddy, and could be really strict at times. But he was fair and ever so kind. He had his goofy moments and was extremely playful too, which she loved. He was never angry with her, always calm and collected. Even when she misbehaved, not that that happened often.

She clung to his shirt so tightly, never wanting to let go. Loki had to carefully remove her hand from his shirt just so he could change them into a different position, getting them both under the blanket so he could have her snuggled up next to him. He knew she would fall asleep soon.

‘Daddy.’ She whispered quietly, sounding so vulnerable.

‘Yes, my little one?’ Loki asked, engulfing her small hand in his large one.

‘Can you sing to me?’

Loki smiled. ‘Of course, my sweetling.’

He began singing to her in Asgardian, but he had told her before it was Icelandic. She had no reason not to believe him, especially since he told her he’d grown up there with his parents.

But he had a beautiful voice, she always loved to hear him sing.

She felt so loved as he she drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice. She faintly remembered a gentle kiss on her forehead just before she fell asleep.

Thor was confused at their interaction, especially as Rosie said nothing at first. Just stared at Loki in utter disbelief.

‘No…’ She shook her head and took a step backwards. ‘You… You don’t get to call me that anymore.’ She said quietly, her voice trembling as tears came to her eyes.

‘Rosie? What’s wrong, did he hurt you?’ Clint asked upon seeing the reaction.

Rosie grabbed the pile of paperwork off the table beside her and she ran off out of the kitchen, with tears falling down her face.

Clint turned to Loki. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do.’ He snapped at him.

‘I have nothing to explain to you, Hawk.’ Loki snarled.

Natasha and Pepper saw Rosie running out of the kitchen in floods of tears, they ran after her into her room. Natasha managed to grab the door before it closed on them.

‘Rosie? Rosie, what’s wrong?’ They both asked as they rushed in to her.

Rosie threw the papers on her bed and she started pacing back and fore, shaking and crying with her arms wrapped around herself. Pepper grabbed her and pulled her down to sit on the bed.

‘Rosie, please speak to us.’ She pleaded with her cousin as Natasha sat at the other side of her.

‘It… It’s him…’ She sobbed.

‘Who? Loki? Did he scare you? I told him not to be an asshole to anyone.’ Natasha said angrily.

‘He… He’s the one. Who I dated before.’ She blurted out, making Pepper and Natasha go silent in shock.

‘But… how?’ Pepper asked.

‘I met him one night in a club. And we dated for eleven months. I was in love with him, utterly and completely. I thought he was with me too. But then he just vanished and never came back one day. Then a few months later, I saw him on the TV… I didn’t tell anyone it was him, because I thought no one would believe me anyway. And what did it matter? It wouldn’t change anything.’ Rosie blurted out between crying.

‘Oh, Rosie. I wish you had told me.’ Pepper pulled her into a hug and cradled her head against her. ‘It’s ok, shhh, shhh. It’s going to be ok.’

Natasha rubbed her back softly. ‘If we had known, we would have warned you he was coming here. I’m so sorry.’

Rosie shook her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘No… It’s my fault, I should have told you. I just… it’s a shock to see him face to face.’

Natasha and Pepper nodded in understanding.

They stayed with her for a little while, then when she told them she was ok and was going to take a shower before bed, they left her to it.

But it ended up being the longest shower ever. She kept thinking about Loki and what they had together before.

Kept thinking of when they first met…

Rosie was super nervous when she walked into the BDSM club. But after months of talking herself into it, she finally had the courage to do it.

She didn’t dare tell any of her friends what she was into or what she was doing, perhaps foolish in a way as no one knew where she was. And she was on her own. But she was too embarrassed to tell anyone. Her friends wouldn’t understand.

She relaxed a tiny bit once she was there, noticing other people on their own as well. Getting a few drinks down her helped with her nerves too.

Some of the people she spoke to briefly were really nice. She met a lovely couple at the bar who asked if it was her first time there. They told her if she needed anything to feel free to ask them, not to be shy. That everyone there was really nice and friendly.

There were various demos on that she watched, there was a lot more to some scenes than met the eye. It really made her realise how on sites such as Fetlife and others, it was easy to get sucked into the wanna-be-Dom’s who likely had no idea what they were doing. Or how much safety came into it all.

‘Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you but I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a drink?’ A beautiful voice came from beside her when one of the demos on aftercare just finished.

Rosie turned and her breath was taken from her as she gazed up at an incredibly tall and handsome man.

‘I… I… Yeah, I would like that, thank you.’ Rosie stammered out, nodding over enthusiastically.

He grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth as he put his hand out towards her. ‘My name is Loki.’ He introduced.

‘I’m Rosie.’ She smiled up at him and put her hand into his. That’s when she noticed his gorgeous hands, so big and he had such long fingers. She blushed hard when he raised her hand up and he kissed the back of it, making her skin tingle like crazy.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Rosie.’ He said charmingly.

Loki gave her his arm and led her over to a free table near the bar. She was really nervous, and Loki could tell. But he soon had her at ease, just chatting away to her calmly and making her laugh almost straight away. She slowly began to relax in his presence.

‘Is this your first time here?’ He asked after buying them both another drink.

‘Is it that obvious?’ She cringed, making him chuckle.

‘Kind of. You did look a bit like a deer in the headlights. But that’s normal for first timers.’ Loki winked at her.

‘So, I’m guessing that means you’ve been here before?’

‘It does.’ He nodded. ‘Not often, it’s probably my fourth visit. Mainly just trying to meet new people, meet anyone that may potentially be interested in a Daddy Dom.’

Rosie’s eyes widened and she suddenly fell shy again as she looked down at her glass and swallowed hard. Loki raised an eyebrow, instantly realising that she was a little. He suspected she was a sub, but hadn’t been sure about the little aspect or not.

Loki leaned forward over the table towards her a little more. ‘Let me take a quick stab in the dark here… But I am presuming that you are a little?’

Her mouth opened and closed again. Then she just opted for nodding in response instead of trusting her voice to actually work.

Loki smiled softly. ‘Nothing to be shy about, sweetheart. That’s why lots of people come to these clubs, to meet their person.’

‘I… I guess so.’ She agreed.

They continued to talk for over an hour, not much about BDSM which Rosie found quite pleasant. He didn’t seem to want to jump straight in so quickly, which in turn made her trust him more and relax.

At the end of the night, Loki handed over a small card with his number on it. ‘There’s absolutely no pressure at all. But I’ve really enjoyed my night with you, Rosie. I would love to take you out on a date, perhaps out for lunch Saturday? But there’s no pressure, I don’t need an answer right now. Just text or call me to let me know. But if I don’t hear from you, that’s ok too. I totally understand.’

Rosie’s heart was racing. Could he get any more considerate? He wasn’t pressuring her at all, not asking for her number. Not even expecting her to contact him if she didn’t want to go on a date with him. Not even needing an answer straight away, what a gentleman.

Loki walked her outside the club and hailed a taxi for her, he even paid in advance for her, not taking no for an answer.

‘I just want to make sure I know you’ll get home safely. And I can’t help it, it’s the protective Daddy in me.’ He shrugged and chuckled, making her giggle shyly.

‘Thank you, Loki.’ She smiled widely at him as she got into the taxi and he closed the door for her once she was in.

He waved her off and she couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Of course, she did text him the following morning to say she would love nothing more than to go on a date with him on Saturday. If that was still what he wanted, too.

Loki replied within a minute, with a time and a place for their first date.

-

‘How DARE you!’ Pepper roared at Loki and launched for him, slapping him across the face. It barely made him flinch, but he clenched his jaw as he glared at her.

Everyone was surprised at Pepper’s outburst.

‘Woah, what did he do?’ Bruce asked.

‘HE is the one that broke my cousin’s heart. She was head over heels in love with you, asshole. Then you just disappeared on her, left her alone without even an explanation. No note, nothing.’ She snarled at him.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I did what was right. To protect her. She was better off without me.’

‘You did NOT do what was right. You have no idea what you’ve put her through this past year, how heartbroken she was. Still is!’ Pepper screeched.

Loki faltered. ‘Still is? Did she not find another, she’s a beautiful, incredible woman. How could she not find ano’

‘You are such a fucking idiot!’ Pepper screeched angrily and so wanted to slap him again, but she knew it was pointless.

The guys around him all put their face into their hands.

‘What?’ Loki asked, looking around.

‘That’s a low blow, man. Not even leaving her a note.’ Said Tony.

‘I… I thought I was doing the right thing.’ Loki said, looking at Thor.

Thor nodded. ‘I did not realise that your Rose was this Rosie… But yes, Loki thought he was doing right by her. He was in love with her, adored her. Never shut up about her. But when he discovered his true heritage on a short visit home, he decided not to go back to her. In fear of hurting her.’ Thor explained.

Pepper ran her hands down her face.

‘Well, you failed on that. You probably hurt her more by not at least saying you were over. You have no idea what she’s been through this last year.’ Pepper shook her head in disgust at Loki.

The team all murmured between them and left the room, leaving Loki with Thor.

For the first time in a long time, Thor saw his real brother back. He saw true emotion on his face again, sorrow and guilt.

‘I… I did not mean to hurt her.’ Loki said, still a bit confused. ‘I loved her, Thor… I do love her. I never stopped thinking about her, never loved another.’ He whispered.

Thor sighed and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. ‘I know, brother. I know.’

Loki thought back to the first time she had called him Daddy. How much it made his heart happy that she trusted and wanted him so much…

Rosie and Loki were snuggling on the sofa together, watching some cartoons that she loved. Loki wasn’t overly fond of them, but it made her happy so he always obliged. He was just happy to have her on his lap, comfortable and relaxed in his arms. Where she belonged.

He was lightly stroking her back underneath her top, making her skin tingle. She was in utter heaven, and Loki couldn’t get enough of just simply touching her. He needed touch in some way, whether he was just holding her hand or had the tips of his fingers on her skin, he needed and craved the intimacy with her.

Loki’s fingers trailed a bit too far to her side and up a little, making her squirm and giggle.

‘Daddy, that tickles!’ She laughed and tried to grab his hand to stop him.

But he had already stopped, freezing at what she said. That was the first time she had called him that, even in little space.

The biggest smile spread across his face and he buried his face into her hair and squeezed her tightly to him.

‘Sorry, my sweet little one. I forgot how ticklish you are.’ He purred.

[kayecorral]

Freight Car

Chapter One of the Brown Book Series

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of violence, PTSD (!), swearing

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Summary: Nine years ago, The Winter Soldier murdered your friend in front of you. Nine years later, Bucky Barnes shows up at your door with the hope of making amends.

⭑⭑⭑

⭑⭑

⭑

You wake up on the floor again.

In the crossfade between dreaming to waking, the hardwood is concrete against your cheek. The sweat in your hair is the slick of blood. You fade in and out, and awareness comes back slowly. A siren descends, moving closer and closer, then recedes into the quiet. You don’t know if you imagined it.

You do know that your alarm isn’t blaring. Your ringtone isn’t sounding. The birds chattering and chirping at your window are real. The steady knocking of your heart against your ribs is real. Maybe that’s enough.

You open your eyes. A sliver of light from the parted curtains cuts across the floor. Above it, dust dances in the still air. All is calm. If you had woken up in your bed, this would be a good morning.  

But you didn’t wake up in your bed. So, you peel yourself off the floor and half-walk, half-limp to the bathroom. As you cross the threshold and flick on the light, a face flashes before you. Before your mind can work to discern its features, you slam the door shut and flip the switch. You cry in the dark.

⭑⭑⭑

You call into work again.

You’re tempted to stay where you are—curled in on yourself under the covers—but Dr. Kaplan’s gentle voice prods from inside your skull.  “Trauma changes over time,” it says. “You have to face it as it comes. You’ll feel worse if you put off dealing with it.”

She picks up on the second ring. Judging by the sound of clinking silverware, she’s on her lunch break. You promise to keep this impromptu session short.

“I haven’t had a nightmare like that in a long time. That’s why it hit me so hard, I think.” You begin. Your eyes fill with tears. You don’t know why. The nightmare is so distant now — just bits of feeling. Your brain is scrubbing away the memory like a mounted defense.

You’re quiet for what feels like minutes, and Dr. Kaplan just waits. She doesn’t pose a question or make a suggestion: in other words, she doesn’t offer an out. She never does. At first, her silence and seemingly unending patience unnerved you. You would later understand the value of having the space to organize your thoughts before speaking them.  

“I thought I was doing better,” you eventually say. “But now, it’s like I’m back where I started.”

“You are not back where you started,” she says. “We haven’t talked about your night terrors in months when we used to talk about them every session. That’s incredible progress. You should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

You hold the phone away so she can’t hear the tears in your voice. “But what does it mean? ”

“Well,” she pauses. “Have you been thinking about Jean lately?”

“Kind of,” you start to say, then remember Dr. Kaplan’s rule about specifics. “I’ve probably thought about her… twice in the past week. Marie, she, uh, she sent me a Facebook request.”

“Did you accept it?” She asks, with just a hint of amusement.

“I haven’t. I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?” Dr. Kaplan asks. She knows the answer, of course. You haven’t spoken to Marie since the funeral nearly a decade ago. You know she resents you. You saw it in the tightness of her smiles and the way her eyes turned to stone as you stood before Jean’s casket. You’re alive and her sister isn’t. You understand that. What you don’t understand is why she would reach out to you after so many years.

“I’m afraid of what she’ll say,” you admit.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Dr. Kaplan says. You shift on the couch. “She knows that. Maybe she’s been thinking about Jean, too.”

“Yeah,” you respond simply. Your head is light from dehydration, and you should probably take a nap at some point.

“I’d recommend you take easy today…”

“But?”

“But next week, I’d like to hear about your Facebook convo.”

You smile. The tears have dried on your face.

⭑⭑⭑

Snippets of dialogue filter through your thoughts. A woman is talking about a missing child, and a detective is asking the “who, what, where”s. It’s an episode you’ve already seen, but it makes for good background noise: the dramatic stings, the fast-talking, the screech of tires as the driver peels off. You don’t know why you gravitate towards crime shows. It might be a bit morbid, but until now, you’ve never thought to mention it to Dr. Kaplan.

You’re almost done with the cake batter. It’s looking a little watery, though. You really should have followed the recipe instead of improvising.

You reach for the flour bag on the counter, and just as you raise it to the mixing bowl, someone knocks at your door. You jolt and the bag slips from your hands. You narrowly dodge as it plummets to the ground. It lands with a  thump and now, your feet and pants and floor are covered in a film of white powder.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

There’s another knock, a bit louder this time.

“Give me — give me just a minute!” You call out, voice frayed.

You step over your mess and towards the door. You notice how slick your hand is on the doorknob, so you wipe your hands on your pants and try again. You forget your ritual of checking and re-checking the peephole. You unlock the door, already anxious at the idea of keeping anyone waiting.

When you finally swing the door open, a tall, dark-haired white guy is staring at the carpeted hallway floor. He’s not looking at you, but you feel exposed in your flimsy tank top and flour-splattered pajama pants.

Meanwhile, his look is carefully nondescript: a leather jacket, a dark shirt, and jeans. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders are slightly hunched. He looks like someone who doesn’t  want to be seen, but here he is, standing at your door.

Maybe he’s just a neighbor on a reluctant mission to convince you to turn your volume down. Maybe he’s a dealer at the wrong address. Maybe he —

Your stomach drops. The shadows had been obscuring his face, but now that he’s tilting his chin up to look at you… the broadness of his forehead, the color of his hair, his height, all these things pull together. They pull tighter and tighter around your heart, and you realize that you’ve seen this man before. You’ve seen him a thousand times.

Your hand flies up to your neck. Fear hits like a punch to your gut. He looks normal — so normal that you could convince yourself that it’s not him. It’s not him.

But now, his eyes — a startling shade of blue— meet yours. Cold washes over you as every sensation in your body amplifies. You feel small and weak. Your vision starts trembling at the edges. You can’t move — not even to release your breath.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says. His voice sounds so different from the one in your memories. It’s not as coarse and low, it’s gentler and higher-pitched. “I just wanna talk.”  

“Talk.” The word escapes you, but you hadn’t meant to speak. Hearing your own voice makes this real.

He clears his throat. “My name is James Barnes, and I’m no longer The Winter Soldier.”

The Winter Soldier. You suppose it doesn’t matter now what that means. If these are your last moments, you’re not going to spend them deciphering code. Instead, you think of your life and all the things you’ve done and all that you haven’t done. In the span of moments, you try to make peace with your death.

“If you’re going to kill me...” you can’t keep your voice from shaking, “do it.”

His eyes widen. “I’m not here to kill you. I’m — ”

“Hydra wants to know what I know. Is that it?” Your mind reels with the new theory.

His eyebrows tick up. “Hydra doesn’t exist anymore,” he says with a measured tone. “Not really.”

You don’t know how to respond to that divulgence. You don’t even know if you can trust it.

“I’m here because you,” he adds your name — your real name, “are part of my efforts to make amends.”

Your thoughts catch on how he knows your name. It’s a small thing, really. He knows where you live, after all. 

“I know you’re confused, and I know you have questions.” He reaches up to scratch his neck. “And if you’re not, ah...” he glances from your face to your body, as if he were just now noticing your state of dress, “comfortable talking here, we can talk somewhere public. I guess what I’m asking is: can I buy you lunch or, uh, dinner? ”

You consider, seriously, that this man may be clinically insane. You have no other rational explanation for his showing up at your door on a Thursday afternoon, let alone his proposition. But you allow yourself to imagine it: you and him, sitting across a table with Jean’s ghost between and behind you. Your stomach turns at the thought.

“You murdered my friend,” you say slowly, “right in front of me.”

He nods. A pained look crosses his face, and that expression spurs your anger. It hadn’t occurred to you earlier that you should call the police. This man is a murderer, and he’s walking free. 

“You shouldn’t even be here — you should be in a prison somewhere!” You choke out as your throat tightens with impending tears.

“I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want to kill her!” He says forcefully. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. I — ”

“But you did kill her!” You can’t hold them back anymore, and now, you’re crying in front of the man who killed Jean. Humiliation heats your cheeks.

“You did kill her,” you repeat quietly. You turn your watery gaze away.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He says.

In your peripheral, you watch him step closer. When you flinch, he bobs back.

You should step back, shut the door, and call the police. Not that a slab of wood could stop him if he wanted to get to you. You’ve seen his silver arm. You’ve felt the grip of its fingers at the base of your neck. But, maybe you could manage a dial ‘9-1-1’ before —

“Look, I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he interrupts your line of thought and, against your will, you look at him again, “I know I don’t deserve it, but I do want to offer you answers. Maybe it can…” He waves his hand as he searches for what he thinks are the right words. “Maybe it can give you some closure. And then, you’ll never see me again.”

You consider the furrow of his eyebrows. Over the years, you’ve tried reconstructing his face from its missing half. Now that you have the full picture, it makes perfect sense: the upper edges of the mask aligned with the cut of his cheekbones, the thin bridge really did conform to his nose, and the wideness of his jaw was merely accentuated. But his features are such a striking contrast to the severity of that mask and that metal arm. He looks so much leaner than you remember. He looks like a man, not a machine.

“Stay here,” you say. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He nods and his brow softens. You shut the door and press your forehead against it.

After a few beats, you rest your hand on the base of your neck and suck in a few deep breaths. It’s a calming technique Dr. Kaplan taught you. But without meaning to, you flex your fingers. Just as your heart was beginning to slow, you’re pulled into the memory of him raising you by the throat. You gasp for air.

That man is behind this door. That man is behind this door.

You race around the couch to snatch your phone off the coffee table. You unlock it with shaking hands and now, your thumb hovers over the number pad.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you press ‘9’.

It’s true. You do want answers. You want to know why he killed her. You want to know about Hydra and his role in it. You want to know why he left you alive.

So you’ll get your answers,  then call the cops.

You pull on some real pants and cover up with a sweatshirt. But at the door, you hesitate to step out again. If you’ve imagined that whole encounter, if it was some vivid manifestation of your survivor’s guilt, then you wouldn’t have to go.

You press your ear against the door, and, as if your doubts had broadcasted through the wood, he coughs. You sigh and grab the doorknob. Your hand isn’t sweaty this time.

At the sound of the hinges creaking, his gaze snaps to you. You meet his eyes without meaning to. There’s no recognizable emotion in them. The creases in his forehead and the furrow in his brow are gone. Now, his face gives nothing away.

“There’s a place about two blocks from here,” you say simply.

He nods and looks to you as if for direction. If he were anyone else, you would start heading for the elevator without further ado, but the thought of Jean’s killer trailing behind you makes your stomach flip.

“I’d prefer you walk ahead,” you utter. His eyebrows raise slightly, but he gives no other visible reaction.

“Alright,” he says.

He moves down the hallway, and you follow. Your eyes stay trained on his back. Aside from your occasional direction, it’s a silent walk.

⭑⭑⭑

Sully’s is a dive, but it’s always busy, and this evening is no exception. The people who frequent this place are the kind of people who get loud after a few drinks and don’t give two shits about you unless you’re bleeding out on the floor. That’s perfect. God forbid anyone overhears your questions about murder and secret organizations.

“You want anything?” He asks after you choose a corner booth and tuck in. His casual tone bothers you, but he keeps his distance, at the very least.

“No,” you deadpan.

He nods and starts for the bar. A few people graze him as he passes, and it’s so crowded that you’ve already lost sight of him.

You place your phone face-up on the sticky, varnished wood table. Absentmindedly, you nudge the pedal base with your foot. You try to hone in on any particular voice, but all you hear is a buzz of conversation. It’s a comfort. It means that you’re not alone and he can’t hurt you here.

“I know you didn’t ask for anything, but…” Fuck. Your knee knocks on the bottom of the table. His voice is so sudden at your side.

He places a water glass in front of you, and you stop yourself before you can say “thanks”. He drops into the chair in front of you, a beer bottle tucked between his gloved palms. Gloves. He’s wearing gloves. You hadn’t noticed until now.

There’s an awkward pause. He watches you intently. Your stomach is churning, but you steadily meet his gaze. You have so many questions. Some of the things he’s said don’t make sense. One thing, in particular, though, is nagging at you.

“Back there, you said you didn’t have a choice,” you say dubiously, “what did you mean?”

He takes a drag of beer and sets the bottle down carefully before he speaks. “They brainwashed me.” He replies bluntly. “Hydra, I mean.”

Brainwashing? It’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility. Aliens exist, as do superheroes and Norse gods and Mad Titans. What was once science-fiction is now very real and devastating.

He gives you a few beats to process, then continues. “For seventy years, I operated as The Winter Soldier.”

“Wait. Seventy years?”

“I just turned 106 in March,” he says with a sardonic smile.

“How is that possible?”

“I was on ice.” He sighs. “They only took me out when they needed me.”

“And Hydra… what happened to them?”

His jaw tightens. It’s the most reaction you’ve gotten so far. “They used to have this saying: cut off one head, two more take its place… Maybe they’ll come back, but right now, they’re gone.”

“So they aren’t after me,” you say softly, more to yourself than him.

“If Hydra wanted you out of the way, they wouldn’t’ve sent me.” He grimaces, even as his voice mocks a shrug.

You get it now: you’re not a threat, and you never were.

“But I was a loose end, wasn’t I? Why didn’t you kill me?”

He shakes his head and says, “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he finishes off his bottle and shifts his gaze to the table.

After a minute or two, you consider moving on, but something about his expression, both vacant and pensive, implores you to wait. In the interim, you glance from the people knocking shoulders at the bar to the couple in front of you.

“It was that look on your face,” he says, and you find his gaze is fixed on you again. “It was rage. And grief. And that-that grief almost overtook everything else, but I saw it.” He leans towards you, his eyebrows knitting close. “That part of you that… that part of you that wanted me to kill you, too.”

He glances at his hand on the table and releases a shaky breath. “I understood that,” he says. “I know what it’s like.”

Like a clenched fist releasing, the tightness in your chest eases. You understand something else, now, too. This is meant to be an exchange. He wants answers as much as you do, no matter how much pain they carry.

“Do you wanna know what I saw? On your face?” You ask after a few beats. He hesitantly nods. “Nothing. There was nothing,” you say. “You didn’t even look human.  It was like you were an animal. And you were looking at me like I was prey.”

You look away. The intensity of his eyes threatens to pull you into that memory. “I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life.”

“I’m so sorry,” you hear him say.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” you say quietly, chancing a glance up.

His face twists into something like shame. If he were a different person, you might try to comfort him. But he’s not a different person. He’s a stranger wearing the face that’s haunted you for nine years.

“So why now?”

“Well, I was…” He mimics a snap with his right hand. “And after that, I… started going to therapy.”

He pulls a small, brown book from his jacket pocket. “My, uh, shrink told me to make a list of people I’ve wronged,” he says as he flips it open to a page in the middle and places it in front of you. “You’re one of the last.”

You find your name third-to-bottom. The ones above are crossed through. He glances from your face to your fingers as they trace his careful scrawl.

“You don’t let people look at this, do you?” You ask.

He half-smiles and shakes his head.

“So why are you letting me?”

“I, uh,” he flexes his hand. “I don’t know. I just… thought I owed it to you.”

You briefly consider asking about the other names, but he doesn’t owe you those. He owes you answers about the life he can’t return. Just as another question bubbles up your throat, a ringtone sounds. You glance at your phone’s black screen, then back to his furrowed brow. He reaches into his back pocket to fish out a flip phone. A  flip phone.  You haven’t seen one in years.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He looks up from the screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he says as he squeezes out of the booth. He disappears as quickly as before.

⭑⭑⭑

You finally take a sip of water. The sweat of the glass bleeds onto your fingertips, so you wipe your hand off on your pant leg before touching your phone. 6:15, it says, which means you've been sitting on this hard, plastic seat for over forty minutes. He's been gone for about ten of them.

Before you can seriously consider just leaving, his form comes into view.

"I've gotta go, but..." He says as he pulls the brown book out of his pocket again. When he opens it, he tears a small piece from the page corner, then scribbles something with a pen.

He places the piece of paper next to the perspiration ring on the table. Stealing one last glance at you, he turns and leaves for the third and final time.

On it is a phone number and a name:

Bucky

[soldierswar]

Kobik - Chapter II

Bucky x Reader

Fluff/Angst

Chapter summary: You and Bucky begin to face your new reality.

Chapter 1

“Sam was right. You do have a staring problem,” was the first thing said between the two of you after you broke the news almost 5 minutes ago.

His face was still white even after sitting down. You sat across from him, you both being in the same spots that you were in before your outburst.

Out of all of the ways that you had imagined telling him would be like, this wasn’t anything close to any of your scenarios. Granted, the reaction itself was pretty on par with what you expected.

“When were you going to tell me?” he asked still in a trance. His eyes continued to dart from the ground to your stomach back and forth.

“I found out a couple of hours before you left. I didn’t want to freak you out before—”

“And how long did you plan on keeping this from me?”

“Really? That’s your first thought?” you snapped.

“Yeah,” he retorted.

“Well maybe I was just waiting for the right time, but obviously things don’t always go as planned!”

You and Bucky had never planned to have kids. The mere idea of it scared the hell out of you guys. So for the most part, you were pretty careful.

“How did this even happen?”

You leaned forward and looked him dead in the eyes.

“Bucky,” you said.

“I’ll give you one guess.”

He shook his head.

“You know what I mean.”

Suddenly a little voice crept up on you startling the both of you for a second.

“Is everything okay?”

Bucky was the first one to look at her, and you couldn’t help but notice the softening of his features; especially in his eyes.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine, kid. We’re just talking,” he said in a comforting tone.

She frowned suspiciously as though she wasn’t convinced, but she let it go.

You thought that seeing her after Bucky told you about her whole history would have made you even more afraid of her. But looking at her now, you saw the innocence in her that Bucky was so adamant about convincing you that she had. Honestly, she was kind of adorable once you got used to some of her unnatural features.

You turned your gaze back over to the house where Sam was standing at the doorway. You wondered if he heard anything from your intense conversation.

“Are you guys done with your little moment or not?” Sam shouted.

You looked over at Bucky whose eyes were still on Kobik with a nervous expression. You realized that once again you had almost completely forgotten the whole point of your little argument, and now he was struggling with what you told him and what to do with Kobik. Now you kind of hated yourself for doing all this to him.

So you did what you now felt you had to do and let out a big sigh.

“I don’t have a car seat.”

Bucky’s face looked a little confused.

“And I guess she’s tiny enough to sleep on our giant couch,” you continued. Now he was understanding.

“But I swear if there’s a moment where we’re in any type of danger—”

“Y/N, I would never—”

“I know.”

You knew that he wasn’t lying. One thing that you always trust was that he would do anything to protect you; even when you didn’t always trust his judgement with some of his risky/impulsive decisions. But him protecting you from bad people was how you two had met in the first place.

“Hooray!” she exclaimed jumping into Bucky’s arms. Something that would be seemingly normal for a child of her perceived age; except for the fact that she jumped from an impossibly far distance, and seemed to float slowly as she went down to wrap her own arms around his shoulder. Almost like there was an invisible parachute over her.

This was going to be interesting.

…

In the hours since Kobik had come home with the two of you, there was no denying that you were avoiding her. You felt a little bit guilty about it, but it wasn’t hard to tell that she was kind of avoiding you too. You couldn’t blame her, you didn’t exactly react in the best way in your initial interaction.

You checked the time on your computer. 7:00. You hadn’t realized how long you had holed yourself up in your office under the guise of catching up on emails. In all fairness when he saw how anxious you started getting when she began exploring the apartment, Bucky did suggest that you go rest or something said that he would handle her. Whatever that meant. You also had to admit to yourself that Kobik wasn’t the only one you were avoiding. You and Bucky were incredibly tense after your outburst, and you haven’t had space or time to talk about it yet.

When you walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water you could see Bucky sitting in the living room with Kobik on his lap.

He was reading her a story from his iPad. It was what you remembered to be an excerpt of a story from his favourite book of short stories. She looked calm, and honestly quite comfortable. In fact, she was in the midst of falling asleep. Your heart might have melted if you weren’t so freaked out about the thought of her having some type of trauma-induced nightmare and burning a hole through the ceiling or something crazy like that in her sleep.

You decided to shake that thought and walked over to the bedroom to let yourself collapse onto the bed. And yet, when you got there you could not let yourself relax. All you could do was lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling wishing that you could feel numb inside instead of feeling everything else it was that you were feeling weighing down on you.

Not too much later you felt Bucky sit down on the bed right next to you. With that, you began to feel something along the lines of dread. You knew that this was the moment where you’d have to face whatever new reality you both had looming over you. The short-term ones, and the long-term ones.

After you sat up you both stared at each other not knowing where to start.

Finally, you decided to talk first.

“So how long do you think this is going to go on for?”

“Not too long,” he stated.

“We just need to find out who it is trying to find her and why. We have a few people looking into it now.”

“And then what?”

He let out a slow tired sigh and shrugged.

“After that, we just need to figure out who with and/or where she’ll be able to live with long term.”

You nodded, feeling a little relieved that he wasn’t going to try to convince you to keep her forever.

“Speaking of long term.”

‘Oh great,’ you thought.

“Yeah,” was all that you could say looking down at your still flat belly. You were still too scared to touch it like there was something or rather someone actually in there.

“How long?” he asked.

“I already told you how long I’ve known.”

“I mean how far along?” he clarified.

You suddenly thought about how cuddling with the tiny humanoid weapon in your living room might be more fun than having to go through this conversation.

“I mean I haven’t really gone to the doctor yet,” you stated.

“But if I did that math right…about 2 months.”

He didn’t say anything. Or rather, couldn’t say anything; which did nothing but succeed in driving you mad.

“Again with the long pauses?” you snapped.

“Y/N…”

But one look into your pleading, probably now red and puffy eyes made him stop.

And that was the moment when you began to cry. Days upon days’ worth of tears fell down your cheeks as sobs wracked your body. So instead of saying anything yet, he just held you. He wrapped his arms around you and rocked you side to side until you were finally able to calm down again.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly against the top of your head.

You furrowed your brows and looked up to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry about how…terribly I’m reacting to this.”

You weren’t sure why but you suddenly felt a little laugh bubble over you, but you held back.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you sniffled.

“I immediately threw up, and then cried for three days straight. So I think I win.”

He let out a light chuckle before his eyes began to glaze over as he sunk deep into his thoughts.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze bringing him back to earth grateful that you were finally being the calmer one in this situation.

“We’re gonna figure this out,” you said giving him a soft smile.

“Yeah?” he responded wearily, returning the reassuring squeeze.

You shrugged.

“I mean we haven’t really been left with much of a choice now have we?”

He kissed you on the top of your head and sighed lightheartedly.

“No, I guess not.”

He turned to lay down with his head on his pillow and pulled you to lay comfortably in front of him.

“You know I love you no matter what, right?” he whispered while carefully resting his hand on your belly. And now you wanted to cry again. But instead of crying, you assured him,

“Always.”

You laid there for a while in silence but in peace. Also, you were exhausted. You both were. No matter how anxious you two might have been, it was one of those days where you would definitely not be fighting sleep. So as sleep came, you let it. You let it take you away into blissful oblivion.

But moments after you found yourself properly asleep, you were suddenly awoken by a child-like scream followed by a loud bang.

Kobik.

...

Thanks to all of you for all of the love I got for chapter 1. I'm pretty excited for the next few chapters. I hope you enjoyed.

Tagged:

@typicalnerd98 @veroxloki @white-wolf-buckaroo @closeyoureyes---makeawish @acciosiriusblack @pastel-boy-sungjae

[spitpr1ncess]

Can I Call You Sir? / Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

--“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”--

Fucking bullshit.

You stare at the graded paper before you and seethe from the inside out. An F? A fail?! But you’d studied relentlessly! The only thought you were having was how your mother was going to kill you when she finds out, you can practically hear her shrieking, “I’m paying heaps of money to put you through university and this is what you have to show for it?

Professor Nanami is writing something that looks vaguely recognizable on the chalk board, his tall but slim body looking oddly out of place at the front of the long classroom as you glare holes into the back of his blue shirt. There wasn’t a single person you hated more than him in this never-ending moment. You yawn and allow your head to fall heavy onto your crossed arms, hiding your shameful test results. You could listen to Professor Nanami with your eyes closed based solely on the fact that you would be failing the rest of this term if your test results were anything to go by.

The rest of the lesson passes quickly as you fall victim to maladaptive daydreams, playing out every single scenario where you approach Professor Nanami and question his harsh grading. You aren’t a stupid girl, in fact, in every other class you were smashing your target or hitting above. What was this mans problem? You imagine slamming your paper down in front of him, arms crossed and little foot tapping the floor. “Do you hate me?”, “So you have favourites?”, or just a plain “what the fuck?!” were among the favourites you’d rehearsed. His face was cold as stone as he stared back before licking his lower lip and smirking, pulling his glasses atop his head, causing a pretty ripple in his hair as he stands absolutely towering over you. A large thumb lifts your chin to look at him as his eyes bore into you. Then his lips are on yours.

Wait what?

What?

You’re roughly pulled from your daydream by your hair as a pair of polished brown shoes stand at the foot of your worn school desk and a voice beckons your name. Professor Nanami is stood less than a foot in front of you waiting for an explanation. You shoot bolt upright in the uncomfortable wooden chair as your entire body feels like its been zapped by an electric fence. You can feel the blush in your face spreading to your ears as you push the strange daydream to the back of your degenerate mind.

“Sleeping through my lectures will not help you fix that broken grade, Miss Reader. Do you understand me? Or do I need to put it more plainly? It can’t be easy with a simple mind like yours, but I’m sure we could find a way to help you absorb what I’m saying.” His eyes are cold as steel and boring into your soul, he doesn’t even blink, he’s like a robot. You hold his gaze before risking a look around the classroom revealing that it is completely empty, not a soul to be seen, brilliant. So not only had you failed your test but you’d also voluntarily agreed to extracurricular activities whilst daydreaming about kissing your Professor, it sure was a great day to be you.

You panic, how were you going to salvage this? You needed to think quickly, but nothing was springing to mind.

Clearing your throat and calming your nerves you begin, “sorry Professor I didn’t get much sleep last night, I have a lot going on at home so am finding it difficult to participate in classes at the moment.”

You are?

He lets out a small snort as he sits at the edge of your desk, peering down at you through his glasses, a look of judgement plasters his incredibly chiselled facial features, he is beautiful, and you’re happy to admit that, whether or not it could get you in trouble.

What?

“Your lies won’t cut it here, you’re excelling in all your other classes, algebra, languages and biology. These are not easy subjects and geography is a breeze in comparison, so why are you failing? Are you doing it on purpose?” Your attention is drawn to his strong throat and his Adams apple lifts and falls again as he swallows and you wonder if he is anxious about approaching you, not that he has any reason to be.

You feel anger bubble in your throat as you argue back, “I’m not a liar. I’m having trouble concentrating here. Your teaching, the class size, the fact the class is the last of the day, maybe you’re grading me too harshly! Have you considered that? Nobody else failed, so why did I?!” Your voice is shaking now and your knuckles are white as you push your nails into your palms, drawing blood. Professor Nanami looks at you for a moment before standing and heading back to his desk at the front of the class where he picks up a piece of chalk and some papers and begins to write.

“Question one is on plate tectonics, lets begin there. Would you care to explain the theory to me?” He turns and gives you a weirdly friendly smile, you calm your nerves and take a breath, opening your paper and looking at your answer, you read out the sentences you had written and cringe as you allow Professor Nanami to correct you, taking notes on his tutoring. Your personal four o’clock class finishes at just past seven as you both wrap up the test paper and Nanami wipes the board clean.

“In future Miss Reader, you come to me when you need help. You’re a smart young lady really, you know that, so put your brain to use. You’re going to do great things after your course is up so don’t discredit yourself over one failed paper.” He sits at his desk and waves his hand to dismiss you. “You’d better go now, I’m sure you have a worried boyfriend wondering where you’ve gotten to so late in the evening.” He pushes his glasses onto the top of his head, much like in your daydream, and you appreciate how good he looks for a moment. He’s aged yes, around thirty yes, but still gorgeous. You know the girls at University fawn over him, fighting to get even a slither of attention, and here you were, in a private tutoring session of your own, and without even meaning to.

You ponder the boyfriend comment before packing up and heading for the exit, deciding to test the waters you address him, “I don’t have a boyfriend Professor you see I simply don’t have time, and anyway, none of the boys here are mature enough to interest me.” You turn and give him a smile as you catch his gaze flitting up from where your stockings meet the fat of your thighs, you roll your eyes at him and shake your head as you sigh and leave for the night.

This was an interesting development.

-

Sleep washes over you as you awaken in your dream. Professor Nanami is sitting before you, he beckons for you to sit on his lap, you oblige and as you nestle against his chest, his fingers find the edge of your stocking, he traces lazy patterns on your thigh, eliciting a small sigh of pleasure from you. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek and plants a soft kiss against your neck, he pushes your soft hair behind your ear and begins to litter kisses on your sensitive lobe.

“Sweet thing, you smell heavenly, I just want to devour you.” He whispers. You throw your head back and invite him to suck and nip at your exposed throat, completely vulnerable in his arms you entrust him with your entirety. He groans as you manoeuvre your little waist to create friction with the fat of your ass and you’re met with the impossible hardness between his legs, this moment between the two of you feels like fireworks, everything is at a standstill and there is nothing but your two bodies, completely entwined, obsessed with each other’s perfect anatomy. You continue to explore each other physically as you mewl and sigh rhythmically, nothing has ever felt better than your Professors loving touch on your absolute innocence. You’d been with boys yes, but never a man like Nanami.

“Nanamin,” you cry out as he finds the hotness between your legs.

“Sweet girl, I’ll take the best care of you, just relax.” he speaks like sweet poetry from his mouth that tastes like the most expensive organic honey. Your breath hitches as he starts to disappear, you reach out but he is no longer there.

-

You jolt awake as you feel wetness pooling between your legs, the hotness and lack of friction so unbearable you are torn from the dream of all dreams.

Fuck, this is weird now.

Daydreaming about your Professor wouldn’t be the worst thing if you weren’t now absolutely sopping wet and grinding against your own mattress. You dare to slip a tiny hand under the waistband of your pants and give a little release to yourself, it felt unreal, and without realizing you were picturing him as you drive yourself to the edge and jump off head first. You’re picturing his pretty features and strong hands, his soft lips and authoritarian stare. In your head he’s praising you, “sweet thing, sweet girl” he says. You shudder as you come down from the satiating high and allow shame to encase you completely, rolling over, you stare at the screen of your phone.

5:38. A notification flashes from last night.

baby nobara: maps said you left uni at 7! wtf were u doing?? ps, shopping tmorrow?

You open the notification and type a quick reply.

you: was just studying, nothing important hahahah. sure! meet me at 11?

With that, you roll back over and let sleep nestle you gently between her arms.

-

It’s twenty minutes after your planned meet time that Nobara turns up, and holding a Krispy Kreme bag full of donuts and a doc marten tote housing at least one new pair of shoes, she’d obviously done a pre-shop, not that it was particularly out of character for her. Her gentle face is plastered with a mischievous grin as she runs and embraces you like two sisters might embrace after a long time away from each other’s presence

“I had to warm up before we got started!” she laughs at you, and all is forgiven in a matter of seconds. You’re both giggling as she opens the bag and makes you a peace offering of a strawberry donut, you eagerly accept as you discuss what shops you want to hit up today. You both spend hours browsing, trying on and chatting about everything, you don’t get to see Nobara often as you have alternating days on campus and your schedules clash horribly so the times you do spend together are cram packed full of mischief.

You’re walking past a load of stores as you approach Victoria's Secret and you immediately flash back to Professor Nanamis eyes on your stockings last night and his comment about your supposed boyfriend. Cogs are turning in your mind but before you have time to make the connection, you’re being dragged in, you have no objections and are pleasantly surprised by the variety of lingerie this particular chain of store holds. You pick out a few different numbers including a black corset body suit and a matching garter with stockings, you knew the reason for picking it out was completely inappropriate but it didn’t stop you from taking it to the counter and paying nearly 100 dollars for it. You grinned as you schemed yet another daydream waiting for your friend to decide on the bits she wanted.

You both decide on a little sushi place for lunch and as you fill your mouth with miso Nobara asks, “Who are you fucking? It has to be someone at university, that’s why you stayed so late, right?” The question completely winds you as you try not to choke on your food. Your eyes are watering as you try to explain that it was just extra-curricular studies. Nobara nods and rolls her eyes, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’ll find out sure enough.” She laughs as you pray she lets this go, shovelling some nigiri into her mouth she waves you off. “Chill,” she says as you allow your heart to slow in your chest.

You give her a hug as you finally part ways and she ruffles your hair, “See you around”, and with that she’s gone. You begin the walk home as you reflect on the events of today, you reel as you come to the realization you spent 100 dollars on a lingerie set for a man over ten years your senior who would less than likely ever find out you’d bought it. Unless.

No.

You shake the thought of trying to bait your own Professor after barely scraping by the last term, expulsion for indecent behaviour seems somewhat worse, at least you think. It also doesn’t seem good for Nobara to now suspect you have something going on with somebody, she has to know all the top gossip and you don’t doubt she will find a way. Now that you think about it, you should turn your phone location off. You know your friend would stalk you for the sake of some scandalous news she can tease you about. You giggle to yourself, you and Professor Nanami, what a thought.

-

The bell rings as you finish washing your hands, you stopped to use the bathroom before your final class of the day, Geography. You’d been anticipating this class, having chosen the black corset body suit with stockings to match, you’d paired it with a mid-length black satin skirt and an oversized cardigan, it was enough to feel comfortable in, and not break any regulations but enough for Professor Nanami to notice, which was just perfect. You wanted to test the waters after his comment and wandering eyes, you’d had time to stew over your awful test results and were wondering if maybe he was a little harsh with the grading. Either way, today would tell.

You hurry up the stairs and down the long corridor to the classroom where he lectures, there were around 30 students already settled in class and you could see your Professor writing on the board. You slip in quietly and take your seat at the back of the class, you shed your cardigan, giving a frontal view of your chest and begin to take notes. You ensure you pay full attention to todays class, not taking your eyes off the man at the front of your lecture room. You meet his gaze a few times and you sense him trying really hard to not allow his eager eyes to flit downwards, you wish for him to give you anything more than a feeling to go off of but he’s stone cold and hard as steel. As the class draws to an end Nanami dismisses the students and you wait until the room has emptied before you walk towards his desk. You wait for him to address you.

“Miss Reader, can I help you with something?” he doesn’t meet your gaze and instead continues typing something on his keyboard, you’re frustrated with how nonchalant he’s being, how you’ve probably misread the entire encounter, how you’ve created a whole reality from nothing.

“I, I was hoping maybe you would assist me with some questions I have from the class today Sir, if you have time of course.” If he wanted to play games, he would get games, you might be younger than him but you’re not stupid.

“That’s okay, you’ll have to give me ten minutes whilst I finish this email, then I’m all yours. Feel free to take a seat.” He motions for the first desk in the front row and you roll your eyes as you decide to make a stand. You pull a chair from the side of the room to Nanamis desk and sit directly opposite him, you take out your textbooks and begin to lay them out on the space behind his computer, sitting down you cross your legs, brushing his shin with your shoe. You’re sure you see his jaw tighten, but he plays it off by cracking his neck, the loud crunch distracts from the tension filled silence and you lick your bottom lip in anticipation.

He finishes with his email and pushes the computer screen to the side of his desk then leans back in his chair and loosens his tie slightly, he catches you watching the space above where his shirt is buttoned and smirks, “So what questions do you have sweet girl?”, it’s an innocent enough question but you’re walking a fine line and need to be careful. You make idle small talk about today’s class for an hour or so before asking your Professor to quiz you, it’s a shot in the dark but you’re hoping he will catch on.

“I’ve been revising, ask me any twenty questions, if I get them right you can pass me for that test!” you grin, proud of the compromise you’d come up with.

“It’s a good idea, but what if you get questions wrong? Does the fail still stand?” he laughs quietly, like he made a personal joke that only he understood, he allowed his eyes to trail down to the black floral lace encasing your chest, it wasn’t overly provocative (you were in university after all) but it was enough to make his mind wander. You test the waters again, trailing a finger over the top of the hem, outlining the soft of your breasts, Nanami shuffles in his seat and adjusts his legs, brilliant.

You allow your Professor to test you, answering all questions and waiting for each correct answer like a patient puppy, sitting for its master. At the end of the test you grin, over the moon with yourself for showing him you deserve a passing mark.

“I told you! I told you I shouldn’t have failed. You were definitely marking me too harshly!” You brush your leg against his again, and he doesn’t make an effort to move himself, he drinks you in through the round frames of his glasses that are sitting pretty on the top of his nose.

“Sweet girl, I never thought you were stupid, in fact, I think you’re rather smart. So tell me, why are you really here right now?” He sits forward in his chair and leans across his desk, towards you. Your faces are so close that you can feel his warm and tempting breath on your lips, your eyes close of their own accord and you lean in. He teases you with soft pecks and you fight back, bringing a hand to his chin but he beats you to it. Your hand completely drowned by his own, the sheer size difference a shock to your system, he holds your hand against his desk where your forgotten papers sit. With his other hand he brings his thumb just below your chin and lifts your face so your eyes can meet his, “Is this what you wanted all along? To kiss your Professor? Is this what your little get up today is about? You thought I wouldn’t notice the pretty lace? Do you know how good you look?” His rhetoric questions causing your heart to beat a hole in your chest you inhale sharply, trying to take control of your breathing once again.

“You failed me on purpose.” It’s slipped out before you have time to consider what you’re saying.

What?!

“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”

A grown man, your professor nonetheless, sits before you in what feels like a dream, asking for you to stop this.

So stop it.

You take your free hand and pull his face into yours, you’re kissing again, this time with more desperation. It was like you were parched, and Nanami was a stream of fresh water, you couldn’t get enough, and it was like your entire life depended on it. His desk was the only thing stopping you from jumping across and allowing him to devour you whole, you thought about straddling his lap and allowing him to grab the soft fat of your ass. Not yet.

You pull away from the kiss and stand, looking at the man before you, his tie completely loose, a few strands of hair falling on his forehead allowing him to look dishevelled, his glasses slightly steamed up. He was a sight to behold and your heart was beating to within an inch of your life with the idea that you had caused it. Internally you were screaming, DON’T FUCKING STOP. But you had to, had to make sure this wouldn’t be a mistake. You leaned across the desk and picked his glasses off of his nose, placing them on your own and pulling them up, to push the hair off of your face. He looked puzzled and opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him.

“It seems I have forgotten something, looks like I’ll have to come back to get it tomorrow, what a shame.” And with that, you shot him a grin, turned on your heels, and left. Nanami sat staring at the door in utter shock and awe as you stalked out. He quickly fixed himself up sans glasses and packed up for the day, he muttered something about teaching you a lesson, and spare frames before he left, allowing the leftover tension to dissolve.