#and even with Luke /physically pulling him out of the club/ he still had his body turned to look for them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aeyumicore · 10 days

Text

shot, shot, shot, shot!

what happens when the four love and deepspace men get drunk and jealous? there's only one cure and it's in between your legs!

━ ✧.˖ PAIRING: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel (separate) x female reader (afab)

━ .ᐟ✧ GENRE: smut, porn with very little plot

━ ✧.˖ TOTAL WORD COUNT: 15.7k

━ .ᐟ✧ GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, mentions of alcohol, recreational drinking (characters and mc), jealousy (guys + mc), drunk characters (guys + mc), use of Y/N, pet names, unprotected sex, never pulling out, fluff/crack/banter, individual content warnings below with their respective fics

━ ✧.˖ LINKS: original inspo | ao3

A/N: SURPRISE ITS HERE EARLY! oof another fic for all four guys? who is she? but actually after this i likely won’t be writing for all four guys like this again, or at least for a while. if i can somehow get better at writing fics that are 1-2k then ill start doing scenarios with all four again! i tried to keep this one short and they’re still all 3-4.3k per guy…this scenario was originally based off the one video of the drunk asian guy! see the clip above under ‘links.’

enjoy guys!! i’ll be taking a much needed break but may write slowly in my own time :) just depends how i feel, how much inspiration i have! i’ll still be on tumblr but will mostly be on my twitter <3 until next time bbs!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 4.3k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, sylus refers to reader genitalia as ‘she,’ public sex, sex in an alley, standing/against the wall sex, finger sucking, choking, outdoor sex, voyeurism, needy sylus, drunk sylus, jealous sylus, use of pet names, mentions of guns, tiny bit of violence, cumming in coochie, panties over cummies

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video (how sylus kisses you in this)

Luke and Kieran watch the way Sylus’s eyes track you under the strobing lights of the nightclub. It wasn’t out of the norm for their dear boss to be obsessed with knowing a certain Hunter’s whereabouts. But this was excessive, even for him.

The way he’d already shattered two glasses with the force of his fingers, his eyes scarily unblinking as they trailed your every movement. The club manager didn’t dare kick Sylus out, apologizing to him as he’d cleaned up the glass from Sylus’s feet. But Sylus was too distracted to even notice.

The pair of troublemakers supposed it had to do with the fact that some sleezy drunk had his hands all over your bare thighs. They knew if Sylus had his way, that very man would be unconscious on the floor in half a second flat. But of course, when it came to you, Sylus was helpless as he was whipped, giving into your every desire, even if it physically pained him to do so.

And you had ordered Sylus not to intervene, not when you were undercover, trying to get classified information from the powerful men that frequented this very nightclub in the N109 zone. So he was left at the bar, quite literally fending thirsty women off left and right, watching the way you pretended to laugh amongst the unsuspecting targets. He tried to distract himself from the men who so clearly were thinking of ten different ways to fuck you.

A privilege reserved only for him.

So the twins, who had so enthusiastically begged to tag along, devised a plan to help Sylus take his mind off planning literal murder.

Really, they were trying to help!

But maybe they should’ve stopped after the fifth drink. When Sylus’s cheeks flushed the same shade of red as his eyes, ebbing all the way up to the tips of his ears.

And they definitely should’ve stopped after the tenth drink. When Sylus’s body started to move on its own accord, his Evol practically parting the crowd of drunk and sweaty clubbers to get to you.

But at that point there was no stopping the formidable man from taking what he wanted. And what he wanted, what he needed, was you.

Honestly, you nearly breathe a sigh of relief when you feel Sylus’s familiar Evol wrapping around your wrist, yanking you backward and away from the disgusting man trying to feel you up. You’re so happy to feel his strong arms around you that you don’t notice how atypically clumsy his Evol feels, like grasping for something when blindfolded.

“We’re leaving.”

Sylus’s words are dominating and commanding, ‘no’ not even a fathomable possibility. But there’s a slight waver in his gruff voice that makes you raise your eyebrow at him in question.

The idiotic man before you wraps his clammy hands around your waist, pulling you back, “Hey man. We’re in the middle of something.”

You look up to see Sylus’s crimson eyes, trained on the way the man’s fingers dig into your bare skin, burning with something dangerous, the air around him crackling with an erratic and sinister energy, and you know you have to defuse the situation as quickly as you can.

You bring your elbow to the man’s groin, digging hard. He groans pathetically, wilting to his knees. Truthfully, you didn’t have to elbow him that hard, but you’d become nauseated with how disgustingly he’d been looking at you, touching you, for the past thirty minutes.

“No, we’re really not.”

With that, you slip into Sylus’s side, his large arm wrapping possessively around your naked shoulders, your hand resting on his abdomen. Sylus’s lips quirk up, deeply satisfied with the way you can bring men twice your size to their knees before they can even blink. His girl.

As the two of you make your way out of the crowd, you start to notice the way Sylus’s movements are unusually sluggish, his feet trudging one after the other. Considering Sylus was always poised and elegant, you instantly knew something was amiss. When Luke and Kieran fall into step behind you, you turn to the two masked men.

“What happened?!” you hissed at them, “What happened to ‘Watch Sylus? Easy peasy lemon squeezy?!’” Your fingers are raised in air-quotes as you recall their confident words and uncontrollable giggles when you’d tasked them with keeping Sylus in line, knowing he’d have a hard time watching you faux flirt with other men, no matter how self assured he was.

Kieran is the first to speak, clearing his throat as the four of you exit the nightclub, the night air ruffling through your hair, “Well, you see –”

But he’s cut off when Sylus roughly grabs your chin, pulling your eyes up to his.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Your eyes flicker to his, surprised by his demanding, yet needy, words. Sylus smiles when you look up at him, his eyes, as unfocused as they were, beaming down at you.

His rough fingers caress your cheek, burying his face into your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent, “Beautiful.”

The scent of alcohol on his breath is so strong you nearly wince. Luke and Kieran seem to notice your realization at the same time, their eyes widening as you start to yell in disbelief.

“Is he drunk?!” you demand, your arms wrapping tighter around his waist, Sylus in a world of his own as he mutters incoherent mumblings into your hair, shifting his weight onto you.

The twins grin at you sheepishly, raising their hands in surrender. Luke speaks, “Well, in our defense, boss never gets drunk –”

“Yeah! Boss is such a heavyweight –”

“So we thought, a few drinks might loosen him up –”

“You should’ve seen him! He was thiiiiiis close to commiting a crime –”

“So really, you should be thanking us!”

The twins finish rattling off, looking at you with puppy eyes.

You sigh, unable to feign anger at them, “How many drinks did you give him?”

“Umm…what was it Kieran…like…eight?” Your eyes widen as they scratch their chins.

“No…no, it was definitely closer to…like twelve?”

“Well we also gave him those cute little drinks with the umbrellas, he seemed to really like those!”

“Yeah and they had little chunks of fruit in them! Maybe that cancels out the alcohol?”

“Yeah! And the one with the olives too! Plus, boss always drinks like a bottle of wine a night!

“So we thought…a few mixed drinks…couldn’t hurt anyone!”

Your head spins as you try to keep up with their conversation, digging through your purse to find the unopened half bottle of water you’d brought. You quickly unscrew it, bringing it up to Sylus’s lips.

Sylus looks surprised when the cool plastic touches his lips, but once his hazy eyes focus on you again, he visibly relaxes. The sharp vermillion hues in his irises melt at the reflection of you, softening into the most beautiful carmine pools of red wine.

His hands come over to cup yours, holding your fingers affectionately in his as you tilt the water back so he can drink. You have to tip toe upward so you can follow his grip, his gulps greedy and eyelids shut in relief, the sensation of your hand cupping his jaw feeling like his own personal heaven.

With the plastic at his moistened lips, his eyes flutter open to look at you, his lids heavy with intoxication. Even though his eyes swim with a murky tiredness, they glow when they watch you, glimmering with a star-struck adoration. His intensity stares you down, a knowing heat piercing right through you. The very same heat that has seen both your naked body and soul.

The moment feels hot and strangely intimate. It definitely felt illegal to have Sylus looking at you like that while Luke and Kieran stood behind you.

He’s so distracted by you, eyes never leaving yours, that nearly a third of the water splashes onto his chest and the pavement floor. He drinks so enthusiastically that you almost want to giggle at how submissive he looks, drinking so obediently from your hands, eyes following your every move. Fortunately the pair of whispers behind you remind you that, even if Sylus stares at you like he’s ready to mount you right then and there, you are not alone.

When the bottle drains, he crumples it in one hand, tossing it to the nearest waste bin.

As it hits the metal trash can, you tear your eyes away from the way Sylus heatedly watches you, turning back to Luke and Kieran, “Are you two insane?!”

The twins look positively offended.

“How did you even convince him to drink so much?”

“Well, he was so distracted watching you that he just downed anything we put into his hands...”

You bite your lip, realizing how difficult it must’ve been for Sylus to sit back and just watch. But he did it, for you.

“Y/N.”

You try to ignore the way Sylus is stroking the bare skin of your shoulders, fingers coming dangerously close to your neck. His ruby eyes beg for your attention.

“Sylus might drink a lot, but he drinks wine –”

“Y/N.”

“Not hard alcohol! Look at how red he is! You guys, this was recklessly irresponsible!”

“Y/N.”

Sylus pulls you forcefully back into his arms, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. Through the darkness of the night, you pray Luke and Kieran can’t see the way Sylus whispers into your ear.

“I need you.”

You fight the shiver that threatens to unleash through your unsuspecting body, his hot breath washing against your skin, the contrast of the brisk night air making you all the more sensitive. His fingers hold you in place, his hard body pressed into your own.

You sigh, trying to brush the arousal away, “Let’s get you home, yeah? We can –”

He nips at your earlobe, eliciting a squeak from your lips as he gruffly demands, “Now.”

Before you can protest further, Sylus’s eyes direct to the twins in front of you, the pair of them snickering to themselves knowingly as he dismisses them, “We’ll meet you at home.”

–

You didn’t even make it to your car.

Far from it, you found yourself pressed into the cold brickwall of a nearby alleyway, not fifteen feet from where Luke and Kieran had left the two of you. Sylus’s lips are latched onto yours in a furiously passionate embrace, his hands alternating between grabbing torridly at your waist and threading into the back of your neck, weaving into your sweat-dampened hair.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck for support against his torridly forceful kiss, his head tilted to the side to give him full access to your mouth, your lips, your tongue.

He doesn’t even stop to breathe, opting to inhale your breath as his own. His tongue forcefully explores every inch of your open and willing mouth, and you struggle to keep up with his excitement. His fingers massage your neck, grabbing eagerly at every part of you he can reach.

Sylus has always been passionate, but this was something else. It felt as if the alcohol in his blood amplified everything tenfold, leaving his cock thicker than ever against your shivering abdomen. His hands roam down your naked back, pulling at your waist again, pressing your body harder against his erection that leaks against his underwear.

Sylus’s head tilts to the other side, your face moving opposite his to instinctively receive his unbridled passion. He cups the back of your head again, shielding you head from hitting the wall, the force of his kiss pushing you against it violently.

He pulls away briefly, panting into you, his canines grazing into the soft skin of your ear, “You’re going to be the death of me, little dove.”

You want to question him, but his lips are back on yours in an instant, consuming you once more. His fingers grip your jaw so tightly, funneling all the emotions he’d held back, while watching you on the dancefloor with other men, into the way he holds you against the wall. Into the way he devours you.

He gives you a brief second of reprieve, pressing his lips into your neck, voice coming out husky and sulky, “I don’t enjoy seeing you with other men.”

You gasp as he pushes you impossibly deeper into the wall, teeth simultaneously digging into the curve of your neck. Your fingers thread up into his hair, tugging to ground yourself as Sylus sucks your soft skin.

“M-sooorry,” you slur, as if you’re the one who’s drunk, “B-But I got the information I – nnghn – needed.”

Sylus growls into your skin, “I knew you would. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

His thumb presses against your bottom lip, eyes glazed over with a drunken hunger, “And you always have me at your mercy.”

It isn’t long before he has your back arched into his abdomen, the front of your sweat slicked body pressed into the cold alley wall, his cock buried in your wet gummy walls. Your panties are pushed messily to the side, your skirt hiked up to your waist.

Sylus’s fingers are shoved into your mouth, claiming to try and minimize your sounds so passerbys don't hear the filthy things he was doing to you. In reality, he was just addicted to your sweet mouth wrapped around him.

His other hand holds both of your wrists, locking them against the small of your back, leaving you absolutely at the mercy of his thick cock ramming in and out of you.

“S-so damn beautiful,” Sylus is almost slurring, having gotten more drunk the longer the alcohol sat in his stomach. The acoustics of the dark alley made his body pounding against yours all the louder and more sinful.

His thrusts are sloppy, the alcohol making it harder for him to maintain control. But that only serves to arouse you more, the sight of Sylus’s hazy eyes when you crane your neck back to see him, the sweat sticking to his flushed skin.

You can only moan, the pads of his fingers pressing down into your tongue. The loud drunken giggles of people passing by make your eyes widen, but Sylus doesn’t stop, only going faster.

“Never gonna let another man touch you, ever again,” he moans into your ear, as he ruts angrily into your g spot, his fingers pressing tiny bruises into the fat of your hips. He’s ten times handsier when he’s drunk, almost as if the alcohol makes his muscles itch, your body his fixation..

He spins you around suddenly, nearly making you lose your balance, his cock entering you just as quickly as it had slipped out. Sylus is desperate to see your beautifully hooded eyes, the faces you make when you come undone for him.

You grip the thick muscles of his neck, admiring his damp and exposed chest. The buttons of his shirt had been yanked open in the drunken shuffle, leaving little to imagination.

“H-Hey,” Sylus mutters, the faintest hint of a whine beneath his words, “Look at me.” His thrusts, sloppier than ever, never stopping.

You grin, despite how blissed out your mind is becoming, at his adorably needy behavior. As you let your eyes lose themselves in his, you stroke his jaw lovingly.

“Tell me,” he pants, his cock twitching as it presses insistently into your walls.

“Nngh — T-Tell you what Sy?” you coo breathlessly, nails digging into his sweaty skin, trying to distract yourself from the no doubt filthy brick wall pressing into your exposed back.

“Tell me how I make you feel,” Sylus’s jaw tightens dangerously.

He thrusts especially hard and deep when you don’t respond, capturing your wrist and pressing it into the wall above your head, effectively trapping you against the wall, “Tell me.”

You squeal, biting your lips, “Sylus! F-Feels s’good. N-No one else can — hng — make me feel like this!”

Sylus’s glossy ruby red eyes flicker, his fingers finding your clit pressed against his pelvis, “Yeah? You love my cock, don’t you sweetheart?”

You want to smile at how adorably needy his words are, the alcohol fueling him with the rare desire to be validated. Instead you just nod vehemently as he plays with your clit, “I dooo!”

Sylus grunts, struggling to breathe as you tighten around him. He grabs your cheeks in between his fingers, squeezing them firmly until your moans are muffled, “Shhh, we wouldn’t want someone to find us, would we little bird?”

You nod obediently, but your body responds instinctively to his words, your abdomen fluttering in excitement at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position, with the revered leader of Onychinus no less.

Sylus chuckles darkly, his every nerve receptive to your tiniest micromovements, and especially the excited way your pussy clamps down on his erection. His lips come down to kiss your jaw sweetly, contrary to the mean way he bullies himself into your cunt.

When he reaches the space beneath your ear he presses a tender kiss there, whispering huskily, “I can feel the way you’re tightening around me. Do you like the idea of someone watching us?”

Your eyes widen at him, and that’s all the answer he needs.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I would love to give them a show. Especially that man who had his hands all over you, hm? What was his name?”

“I-I d-don’t – hah – remember,” you wheeze, holding on as he bounces you into the wall, the sound of drunk bar patrons growing louder.

Sylus smiles darkly, his red eyes glowing in satisfaction, “Good girl. This pussy belongs t’me, hm?” His words come out in a purr, slightly sluggish with intoxication.

You can’t speak, opting to nod as eagerly as you can, your brain muddling against the pleasure of your joined bodies. Sylus chuckles at your wordless agreement.

“My precious dove…can’t even speak?” he coos, fingers still splayed out against your poor quivering clit, the wet sounds of his furious ministrations echoing throughout the dark alley. He leans in close to your ear.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. She’s so loud she might as well be answering for you,” he grins, clearly talking about your soaked and squelching pussy against his demanding thrusts.

You’re about to retort when you hear another group of people passing by the alley. Your hands fly up to your mouth, forcing your uncontrollable moans away. Your eyes squeeze shut as the patter of feet gets closer and closer, fear and excitement taking over.

“Ah-ah,” Sylus tuts, “You know better than to hide your beautiful sounds from me.” Your eyes widen when his words sink in.

Your hands fly to Sylus’s broad shoulders, but it’s too late to push him back. His hands find the globes of your ass, lifting you off the floor, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. At this angle Sylus can fully bounce you on his cock, using you however he wants. At this angle, the swollen tip brushes right into your cervix. At this angle, it’s physically impossible for you to muffle your cries.

Your nails dig into the ropes of his shoulder muscles as you squeal. Sylus only grins as the sound of feet falter, right in front of the alley.

You try your best to whisper, “Sy-Sylus, please. Th-they’ll hear.” But it was pointless. Even if you could hold back your whimpers, the echo of his arousal dampened pelvis slapping against the space where your thighs met your ass bounced off the walls of the alley like a resounding bell.

“You say that…” he murmurs, fingers coming back down to your clit, balancing you in just one arm, “But why is she getting so tight?”

He’s right, and there’s no denying it. Sylus is well acquainted with your body, knowing exactly what excites you, what you don’t like, what you love.

The heavy footsteps gradually fade, likely too drunk to hear anything than the pounding of distant EDM music. Sylus hears you sigh in relief, releasing a bated breath, but your cunt stays as tight as ever around him. It drives him insane.

Nearly getting caught has only pushed both of you to the cusp of your orgasms.

“Close, dove?” Sylus whispers into your ear, one hand pressed into the wall, the other bouncing you on his quivering cock.

Your head is thrown back as you nod, gasping for your next breath, “Y-Yes! So cloooose Sy!” At this point you don’t even care who could possibly hear you, only able to focus on the angry way Sylus’s cock twitching inside you, stroking your g-spot, begging to paint you white.

“M-Me too, Y/N,” Sylus’s uncharacteristic stutter, driven to madness by the alcohol and you, makes you clench down, hard.

He hisses, hips stuttering, teeth clamping down on your shoulder, tongue subsequently coming out to lap at the space where he bit down, soothing your skin.

The push of pain, the pull of pleasure, it’s just enough to tip you over, careening down the cliff of your orgasm. Your head falls back, eyes rolling with them, body fully preparing to show Sylus just how much you loved him.

But Sylus has other plans, squeezing your cheeks in between his fingers, directing you to look at him.

“Hey. Look at me, please.”

His commanding words remind you that he’s very much still intoxicated, making him adorably needy for your attention.

When your eyes level with his, his red eyes sparkle happily, like a puppy getting its ears scratched, “Hello, my love. Show me, hm?” The duality of his lovable desperation and his downright malevolent plunges into your cervix blurs the lines between pleasure and reality, sanity and madness.

You nod eagerly, holding his intense eye contact, while you burst at the seams, spraying all over his still clothed abdomen. Sparks of white hot electricity travel through every one of your nerve endings while you cum on him.

Sylus gulps, in awe of the way you sing for him, shame thrown to the wind. If anyone were to walk by, they’d hear the way you screamed for his cock. Hear the way your body made him gasp for his next breath. How he grunts with each rope of cum that he dumps into your waiting hole, each sloppy pump filling his vision with bleary stars.

As he cums, he whispers brokenly into your ear, “C-Can never get enough. I love you, sweetheart.” One of his big hands comes up to clamp around your throat, his fingers pressing down forcefully as he erupts inside of you.

“Ngh…I love you Sylus,” you murmur against the pleasure of your constricted air flow, clinging to him, truly like an injured bird.

Sylus kisses your lips tenderly as you both come down from your highs, his fingers carefully laying your panties back in place. When he sets you on the ground, you nearly collapse, your legs quivering from the way they’d been locked around his waist. His arms are back around you in an instant, holding you steady. His cum flows out of you like literal tears, but you can only clamp your thighs shut and pray your pathetic soiled panties can catch the streams of his milky seed.

He guides you carefully out of the alley, pressing affectionate kisses into the crown of your head as he holds your waist protectively. You’re so dazed you hardly notice that your skirt is still ridden up, until Sylus gently pulls it back down, smoothing the rumpled fabric with his large hands.

The sounds of two far too familiar voices greet you when you emerge from the backstreet.

“Are you guys finally done?”

“Do you have any idea how long we’ve been waiting?!”

Sylus groans, running his hand down his face, “Didn’t I tell you two to go back to base?”

And though you’re thoroughly mortified at the idea of the twins having walked into your…situation, you can’t help but smile at the way Sylus handles Luke and Kieran. Like a father reprimanding his children.

“Well we did —”

“But then you guys didn’t come back for a while —”

“So we thought maybe something happened!”

You shake your head at their frenzied explanation, the smile stretching on your lips as you watch the twins move their hands animatedly in their defense, “You guys are impossible.”

Luke gasps in exaggerated earnest, “How can you say that after what you’ve put us through?”

Kieran nods in agreement, shuddering dramatically, “Yeah! I feel like I just walked in on my parents…”

“You two better watch yourselves before I confiscate your guns again,” Sylus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. But you can see the corner of his lips fighting an amused smile.

Luke and Kieran simultaneously gasp, their reaction making it seem like Sylus was a father grounding his children, taking away their toys. You burst out into giggles, hugging Sylus’s side to keep warm as you watch the comical situation unfold.

“There’s no need for you to do that, Sy,” you murmur, looking up at him, admiring the way the moonlight frames his face. Sylus peers down at you, his face softening, before nodding curtly.

The twins snicker. Luke uses his hand as a shield in front of his mouth to whisper to Kieran, pointing to Sylus behind it, “Whipped.”

You shoot them a smile, a deceptively innocent and sweet grin, “I’ll gladly confiscate them for you.”

There’s nearly a cartoon puff of smoke left behind when the twins scurry off, desperately clutching their holsters and begging for mercy.

Sylus chuckles as he watches them run off, his arm slung over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side as he presses a kiss into your forehead.

“Truly a force to be reckoned with.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.8k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk mc and xavier, pre-established relationship (but not first time), public sex/voyeurism, sex on the dance floor, standing sex, fingering, dancing without leaving room for jesus, grinding, jealous!mc, not a content warning but xavier is wearing tight black shirt and jeans…….MMMMMM, unprotected sex, handjob through clothes

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | pics (how xavier and you make out in this)

The thumping beat of club music pounds in your ears, making it difficult to hear even your own thoughts. But you really didn’t care, too intoxicated and having too much fun dancing with Tara in a throng of sweaty club goers.

The both of you had requested today off, wanting to see an up and coming DJ at the Linkon Lounge. You’d started the night off at your apartment, getting dolled up in your wispiest lashes and outfits that made you feel strong, confident, and beautiful. You’d shared a couple shots of tequila before slipping on your heels and scrambling out of your apartment, in a fit of tipsy and hushed giggles.

Coincidentally enough, you ran into Xavier on your way out. Your blonde-haired partner was in the apartment lobby, grabbing his mail, when you and Tara bumped into him, literally. If it weren’t for Xavier’s quick reflexes, his forearm darting out to wrap around your waist, you definitely would’ve ended the night before it began, with an ice pack in your hand rather than a fruity drink.

And that’s when Tara had invited Xavier out with you. Truthfully, you were sure Xavier would say no. The club definitely wasn’t his scene, and he undoubtedly had plans to have a cozy night in. But you were pleasantly surprised when he blurted out ‘yes’ before Tara could even get the words completely out. Tara knew Xavier wanted to come to keep an eye on you, and she was all too happy to play matchmaker.

You hadn’t seen Xavier for what felt like at least fifteen minutes. You assumed he went off to the bathroom, or maybe to order some more drinks. Before long, you started to worry.

“I’m gonna go look for Xavier! Will you be okay?” you practically scream over the music, pulling the side of Tara’s face to your mouth so she can hear you better.

“I’ll be here!” she yells, pointing at her phone, “Text me if you can’t find me!” You nod, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

You push your way out of the crowd, apologizing profusely as you’re met with the displeased looks and groans of drunk patrons.

Eventually you make your way to the edge of the dancefloor, scouring the area for Xavier. You had a difficult time focussing your eyes, stumbling about, but did your best to look for the enigmatic Hunter.

You quickly check the line at the bar before deciding to check the bathroom. It’s then you catch the glint of familiar platinum blonde hair, Xavier’s body leaned up against the wall near the public water fountains.

You gulp at the sight of him, his head leaned back to rest against the wall, his hands folded across his chest. The musky sweat of the enclosed space made his black fitted t-shirt cling to his biceps, his skin glistening with sweat under the pulsing LED lights.

Even from this far away, it’s clear Xavier is drunk. His eyes are hooded with intoxication, his throat bobbing with shallow breaths.

You’re about to approach him when the groups of people in front of you shift, and you see a girl latched onto Xavier’s bicep. The two look far too cozy, Xavier not doing anything to push her off as she speaks animatedly up at him, her eyelashes batting seductively.

It’s not like you and Xavier were dating…but it was clear there was something deeply intertwined about the two of you. That, and the fact that you’d been intimate several times. But you had to admit, you’d never made things exclusive.

You turn on your heel, thoroughly perturbed at the sight of Xavier with someone else, making your way back to where you’d left Tara.

You’d just broken into the crowd when a firm hand catches your wrist, stopping you from pushing further. You turn back sharply, ready to throw your fist back, only to be met with the sight of Xavier, in all his flushed and handsome glory.

“Where are you going?”

You fight the urge to smack him, jealousy a true green-eyed monster, instead just feigning ignorance, “What? I can’t hear you!” You gesture wildly with your hands to emphasize your point. You turn away from him, starting to tug your wrist away again when he pulls you back, hard.

He twirls you effortlessly into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you, secure and unrelenting. You look up at him in question. He leans down, and your breath catches as his lips come an inch away from yours. But he doesn’t kiss you, instead whispering into your ear.

“I asked where you were going. Didn’t you see me?” his breath is warm against your ear, the smell of alcohol invading your senses over the pounding music.

“You looked busy. I didn’t want to intrude,” you try to keep your voice level, but you can tell it comes out petty. You hope through the deafening music, Xavier can’t hear how sulky your voice is.

Xavier looks confused in his drunken state, but shouts into your ear, his tone genuine and endearing even amidst the music, “You’re never intruding.”

You sigh at his sweet words, tiptoeing up to speak to him and trying to be nice, “Who was your friend?”

Xavier looks even more bewildered for a second, before realizing the implications of your words, a lazy smile painting his features. He holds you close, one hand on the small of your back, the other coming up to touch your cheek.

“Not my friend. She couldn’t find her friends and wanted to wait with me.”

You roll your eyes. Xavier was too sweet and unassuming for his own good.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Xavier chuckles, “You don’t have to be jealous, I only have eyes for you.”

Your cheeks flare amidst the flush of alcohol on your cheeks at his words, and before you can speak Xavier is leaning down to kiss you. You squeak in surprise, but respond to his lips, kissing him back.

Xavier kisses you slowly, gently, and tenderly. You can barely even hear the music around you, the musky people bumping into the pair of you. All you can feel is Xavier, lips on yours, his hands stroking your bare skin, his hardening erection against your stomach.

He pulls away for air, his lips swollen and wet from your passionate kiss. Your ears pound in excitement at the way Xavier looks down at you, hungry and wanting more. You hook your arms around Xavier’s neck, pulling him down until your foreheads brush against each other.

“Dance with me,” you whisper loudly against the music. Xavier’s eyes shine with excitement, and he nods, his hands gripping your waist as you start to sway to the music.

You turn around so you can watch the flashing lights, the alcohol making them look like a light show. You feel much bolder with the liquid courage running through your veins, so you grind back into Xavier, your rear molding perfectly against his crotch.

Xavier hardens so quickly against your movements, your body feeling so perfect against his. The alcohol makes everything feel much more fluid and raw, his body responding excitedly.

He too is fueled by the courage of intoxication, his hands roaming from your hips to your stomach, just above the fat of your cunt. He can feel the way you shiver at his touch, and he decides to dare further.

His strong hands wander up, until they cup your breasts through your sheer dress. He rests his chin on your shoulder, whispering into your ear.

“Is this alright?”

You crane your neck backwards to nod at him, eyes flickering to his lips. Xavier leans in to kiss you again, one hand still playing with your nipple, the other reaching up to hold your throat against him gently. The two of you kiss so passionately, so messily, that you hardly notice the crowd of equally drunk and horny people around you.

As you kiss him, your hand comes backward to cup the back of Xavier’s head, grabbing at his soft blonde locks. Your body continues to rock sensually into him, relishing in the way his hard erection sits between the slit of your ass.

Looking up at him through your wet eyelashes, you whisper, “M-More. I want more.”

Xavier groans, looking around, trying to find the quickest way out of the crowd. But you can’t wait, too aroused by the way Xavier’s shirt clings to his muscles, the way his cock fights against his jeans, straining to be with you.

The alcohol dares you to be bolder than you normally would ever be. You grab his wrist, bringing it down to the hem of your minidress, guiding his fingers to slip under it.

You can feel Xavier stiffen behind you, eyes darting around to make sure no one is watching. But he quickly realizes quite literally no one cares about the two of you, too focussed on the music, too focussed on their own partners, to even spare you a glance.

So he follows your lead, his hands roaming under your dress, digging into your soft thighs. You moan into his ear, your head laid back on his shoulder.

With his palm so close to your cunt, you grind right into his open hand, wanting more friction, more of him. Xavier groans at your enthusiasm, quickly forgetting about the people that are packed around you like sardines. He feels something damp against his fingers, making him all the more desperate to have you.

“You’re wet,” Xavier whispers sluggishly into your ear, “Is this all for me?”

You groan at his words, your muscles twitching with anticipation. You try and look at him, the back of your head still resting on his thick shoulder. Your hand grasps at the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to drift down to you, the azure blues flickering to your lips before they come back to your gaze.

“Touch me, please.”

Even under the strobing lights of the club you can see Xavier’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening. His eyes flutter shut as he leans down to kiss you.

At the same time, his finger gingerly dips into your folds, moving your panties to the side. At first he just rubs up and down with his middle finger, enjoying the way you moan into his mouth. But it becomes far too unbearable, not being inside you.

He slowly dips his middle finger inside of you, hissing when your little hole sucks him in tightly.

“Is this okay?” Xavier asks, wanting to make sure you’re alright. Your eyes dart around lazily, making sure no one can see Xavier’s hands underneath your dress.

You nod, your eyelashes fluttering shut as Xavier starts to pump in and out of you. The energetic music makes everything feel more surreal, only the occasional jostling of people bumping into the pair of you reminding you of exactly where you are.

Xavier’s index finger finds its way inside you, his thumb rubbing at your slippery clit. He alternates his free arm between shielding you from people pushing as they pass by, and cupping your breast through your dress. In all your writhing, your ass continues to grind against Xavier’s cock. Under his jeans, he’s leaking so profusely that your body rubs around the slick, creating a sticky mess.

Xavier pumps inside you, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him, the feeling of risk and wrong.

“Please – Please don’t stop,” you pant, looking up at him with starry eyes.

The look of complete and utter bliss on your gorgeously flushed face makes Xavier bite his lip, “I’ll never stop, angel.”

You clench down hard on his fingers at the endearing pet name, one he so rarely called you. It makes you writhe against his hot and hard body, pressed firmly into you, like a puzzle piece.

With your back still turned to him, you reach your hand back to where his bulge presses into you. With careful hands, you cup the massive swell of his manhood, biting your lip when he moans into your ear, teeth grazing against your earlobe.

You rub him enthusiastically through his jeans, enjoying the way he writhes under your touch, his cock straining through the tight restraint of his pants.

“You’re evil,” Xavier groans, pressing kisses into your neck, trying to contain the moans he wants to make for you.

You lean your head back, staring at him through hooded eyes, “Should I stop?”

Xavier holds you tight, almost crushing you, to keep you from stopping.

“No. Never.”

You giggle, turning back to the club stage, watching the DJ perform, hands finding their way back to Xavier’s crotch. His pants are heavy and breathy by your ear, fingers scissoring in and out of you furiously.

Soon enough, the feeling of just your plush body against his isn’t enough anymore. He needs more.

With his fingers never pausing, he asks, his voice smooth and sultry, “I need to be inside of you, is that okay?”

“Please,” you whisper huskily, grinding against his fingers, “I want you.”

You can feel Xavier shifting behind you, pulling out his cock. He feverishly pulls your panties down just slightly, so that they rest under your cheeks. He lifts your dress, enough to give him access but making sure you’re still covered. He would rather die than let anyone see your precious body.

As the music comes to a peak, the beat building alongside your release, Xavier slips his erection into you. You’re thankful for the heavy bass of the drop because you quite literally cannot hold back the scream that rips from your lips as he pushes himself into the hilt.

One of his hands travels from your waist to under the front of your dress. When he finds your clit, he pinches down hard.

“You’re so cute,” Xavier hisses into your ear, picking up his pace, “Were you jealous earlier?”

“N-No! Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the arm he has buried between your legs.

“Mmm,” Xavier hums, clearly not convinced, “That’s alright, Y/N. You have nothing to be jealous of, ever.”

“I-I’m not – I wasn’t!” you gasp, forcing the words together as Xavier’s cock nearly finds its way into your throat. But at this point you knew he could see right through you.

“Would travel through time and space for you,” he murmurs, words full of a boundless affection, “I only see you.”

He puts all that same adoration and passion into the way he fucks up into you, holding you protectively in place, making sure no one so much as brushes against you.

Your moans are strangled when his cockhead angles into your g-spot, cutting off the drunken confessions on the tip of your tongue. Xavier’s girth was always something you had a hard time getting used to, and taking him standing was infinitely harder. Your inner thighs burned with the strain of how fully he stretches you out.

Xavier’s hand comes over to cover your mouth, his smile pressed against your throat. The alcohol makes Xavier irregularly chatty, his inhibitions lowered completely, “You’re so loud. Does it feel that good?”

Your eyes are rolled back mesmerized by the flashing lights, unable to discern what comes from the nightclub’s light show and what comes from the pleasure of Xavier’s poignant thrusts. You do your best to nod, your teeth sinking into Xavier’s palm to keep yourself conscious.

You’re nearly doubled over now, your jelly legs unable to hold you up, with only the support of Xavier’s strong hand against your cunt and his other arm wrapped around your chest. He holds you up as securely as he can, his own intoxication growing having not drank any water since you’d arrived at the club.

“Are you okay?”

Xavier’s head snaps up to see a club patron in front of you, a concerned look on his face as he kneels down to be eye-level with you. Xavier squick readjusts to make sure you’re covered.

Your eyes widen, trying to straighten up, “F-Fine!” You nearly scream as Xavier continues to thrust into you, his movement much more conspicuous but somehow more intense.

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good.”

You want to be kind, but you can really only focus on the way Xavier continues to fuck you, not even caring that the good Samaritan in front of you was this close to realizing what was happening. The fact that you were still very much drunk did not help.

“N-No, I’m fine,” you squeak, eyes rolling back when Xavier hits your g-spot. You can’t see him but you just know he’s enjoying the position he has you in. He smirks in satisfaction, grinding into your ass, his thick length nestling into your every nerve.

The man looks skeptical, especially at your unfocused hooded eyes, “Do you want some water?”

He’s about to reach out to touch you, when Xavier yanks you back, both arms wrapped protectively around you, “She’s fine.”

At Xavier’s harsh tone, the man recoils, looking up, almost as if he’s just noticing Xavier. He nods awkwardly before disappearing into the crowd.

Xavier resumes his vigor, kissing your neck and whispering, “Mine.”

“Now look who’s jealous,” you giggle languidly, gasping when Xavier drives into you harder.

“Not jealous. It’s just the truth,” he murmurs, tilting your head back to kiss you, fingers back on your clit.

His tongue explores your mouth excitedly, your pleasures quickly reaching a peak after coming close to being caught. Your body convulses around him, wanting him to push you into the oblivion of ecstasy.

“Always so tight,” Xavier groans, “I-I won’t last long like this…”

You squeal, your sounds drowned out by the vibrating music, “Ngh – me too Xavier.”

“G-Gonna cum,” Xavier gasps as your cunt strangles him, ripping away from your lips and panting for air.

You crane your neck back to look at him, your eyes wide with wonder and desperation. The blissed out look on your beautiful face makes Xavier groan, his hips stuttering into his climax.

“Cum for me, Xavier,” you beg, impossibly close as well, “Want to feel you.”

Xavier shuts his eyes, his body following your every command. His cock explodes inside you, filling you with a hot warmth that spreads all the way to your fingertips and toes. Xavier doesn’t speak as he cums, only suckling hungrily at your neck, moaning and whimpering into your bruised skin.

He keeps thrusting into you, even as his cum starts to leak out of your hole, wanting you to come undone too. Even when the overstimulation starts to border on pain, he refuses to stop.

His cum makes it so there’s zero resistance, only the pure pleasure of his cock against your throbbing gummy walls. Soon, you’re cumming too, screaming into the pulsating music, your climax crescendoing with the drop of the song. The symphony of it all, the alcohol, the threat of being caught by any one of the dozens of people around you, makes it one of your most intense orgasms yet.

Your body instinctively clenches down as you release, making you cream all over Xavier, a mix of both your arousals. Xavier watches in awe at the beautiful way you cum, for him. It’s enough to make him pump a few more ropes into you, even as his dick throbs sharply in protest.

Xavier hugs you to his chest tightly, holding onto you for support as his cock quivers inside you. You can feel his chest heaving against your back, shifting as he slips out of you and redoes his zipper. Xavier puts your panties back into place, pressing a faint trail of kisses along your shoulders.

Suddenly, the crowd feels suffocating and icky and you desperately want to be somewhere quieter with Xavier. You pull him out of the crowd, nudging throngs of drunk and horny patrons out of the way as you make your way to the bar. Xavier follows you sluggishly, his fingers barely closing over yours as you guide him out..

When you reach the bar, you order a water and turn to Xavier worriedly, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“Xavier,” you urged, “Are you okay?”

Xavier’s eyes flutter open, his eyes slightly rolled back, “M’okay. Just sleepy.” You giggle, patting his face gently, realizing the haze in his eyes is a mix of intoxication and post-sex bliss.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re always so sleepy. Especially after…”

Despite Xavier’s eyes remaining closed, he smiles and mumbles as he leans against the wall next to the bar, “Can’t help it. You drain me.”

You blush furiously, despite it being loud enough where no one can hear you two. The bartender hands you a glass of water, and you bring it up to Xavier’s lips. Xavier’s eyelids flicker open, his long eyelashes fluttering as he takes in his surroundings again, like he’s so intoxicated off the alcohol and you that he can’t make sense of his bearings.

You take his chin into your palm, tilting him up gently so the water doesn’t spill. Xavier drinks obediently, not letting a single drop go to waste. His position against the wall makes it so that you tower a few inches over him, so he has to look up at you through his eyelashes. With each gulp of the icy water he never breaks eye contact with you, staring at you with all the awe and devotion in the world.

His hands gently grip your wrists, nuzzling into your hand. The way he watches you makes you want to squirm, his eyes glimmering under the flashing lights. His azure eyes feel like they hold the weight of an entire galaxy, but in reality it’s the reflection of you that makes his eyes sparkle with the brilliance of the stars.

“Hey! There you two are!”

You whip your head around to see Tara excitedly hurrying over to you as Xavier finishes the last of the water.

You turn to her, “Tara! I’m sorry, I found Xavier but then we got…caught up.”

She smiles and shakes her head. There’s a knowing mischief in her eyes, as if she doesn’t believe you, “It’s alright! I made some friends.”

She looks at Xavier. Even though you no longer hold up the empty glass to his lips, he still stares at you with the same starstruck look, a post-orgasm mist over his entire face.

“Why does he look like that?”

Your cheeks burn and you scramble to find an excuse, “Oh, he’s fine! He’s just drunk. And sleepy. Very sleepy.”

Tara grabs your chin, tilting it up in a squint, inspecting you. You’re about to ask what’s wrong, if maybe your false eyelashes came off, but when you look down at your shoulder you see exactly what she’s looking at.

A bright red, purpling bruise. In the exact shape of Xavier’s lips.

“Oh, I bet he’s sleepy.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk zayne, needy zayne, jealous zayne, couch sex, booby sucking, pretty vanilla tbh, slightly sub zayne, zayne begs a lot, prone bone, doggy, choking, making out, cumming in coochie, mentions of birth control usage, zayne is a lightweight

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video | art (credit to @roschea-arts)

You stumble into your apartment, nearly tripping over the threshold as Zayne’s heavy arm slumps over your shoulder for support. You kick your heels off, briefly bending down to slip Zayne’s shoes off, before you lead him to sit on your couch.

“Sit here while I get some water for you, okay?” you whisper worriedly against Zayne’s nearly unconscious face, pressing a kiss to his heated and clammy temple. Zayne doesn’t respond, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a shallow breath, nodding gently.

Well, this was definitely not how you’d expected tonight to go.

When you’d invited Zayne as your date to the annual UNICORN hosted Hunters’ Association Banquet, you expected it to be a relatively uneventful night. You never expected your raven-haired surgeon boyfriend to get drunk. In fact, you’d never seen him so much as tipsy since you’d known him.

And that was something Zayne intentionally made sure of; alcohol was not something he indulged in, ever.

Except when you’re so busy socializing all night that he gets unbearably bored, curious, and desperate for your attention.

So that’s how he ended up absolutely plastered off two cocktails. In his defense they were deceptively fruity and sweet, the rims coated in thick crystals of sugar. Truly his kryptonite.

So when Zayne grabs your wrist while you’re talking to a fellow Hunter, spinning you gently to his hard chest, you’re completely taken aback.

“Apologies. Can I steal my girlfriend for a moment?”

Your colleague, standing before the both of you, looks flustered at Zayne’s commanding voice, nodding fervently before he turns to leave. His face is pale, not realizing you’d brought a guest to the banquet, much less a guest that looked as handsome and imposing as Zayne. You whip around, eyebrows raised, to face the surgeon in question.

His face is uncharacteristically red, the tips of his ears burning so adorably bright. The first few buttons of his shirt had been undone, the collar disheveled, like he’d pulled at it until the enclosures gave way. What’s more, the tension that colored his words, alarming and unusual.

“Zayne? What’s wrong?” you reach up to touch his cheek worriedly, gasping at how warm his normally chilly skin was, “Are you not feeling well?”

Zayne releases your wrist, instead capturing your hand on his jaw with his own palm, pressing you deeper into his cheek. He practically purrs into your touch, nuzzling into your hand warmly.

“You feel nice.” His voice is low, almost a rough whisper against the cheerful laughter of the night.

It was very unlike Zayne to be so blatant with his affections, especially in front of either of your colleagues. In this case, the packed banquet hall of UNICORN’s annual Hunter’s banquet, filled with curious and nosy onlookers, peering at the two of you embracing in the middle of the party.

Perhaps the bustling activity became too overwhelming for Zayne, especially given that you had been pulled every which way to discuss your recent mission successes. You’d hardly had a chance to make sure he was doing okay.

“Did you want to leave? I can —”

Zayne pulls you closer to him until your bodies are pressed together tightly, his slender fingers holding your waist in place. You squeak in surprise, blushing as you try to ignore the prying eyes of your colleagues as Zayne strokes your cheek, fingers playing with your loose strands of hair.

“Who was that?” Zayne’s voice is deceptively calm against the top of your head as he breathes in your familiar scent, masking the demand and restraint lurking just below the surface. Your pheromones calm him down slightly, making him feel much more at ease.

“Who was who?”

Zayne bends down to reach your ear, his normally calm and stoic voice much more shaky than usual, “That man, who was making you laugh. He seemed friendly.”

Zayne’s words tickle your ear, making you shiver. It’s then you can smell the alcohol on him, as he leans down to whisper in your ear, the bitter scent of vodka mixing with the faint smell of his cologne. Suddenly the questions of his irregular behavior clicked.

You lean back to look at him in shock, “Zayne?! Are you drunk?”

Zayne looks sheepish, his hazel eyes still intense, “No. I don’t – hic – don’t think so.”

You want to laugh at his incriminating hiccup, the surgeon undoubtedly intoxicated. That fact is only confirmed to you when you tip-toe up to peck his lips and taste the bittersweet trace of alcohol on him.

“You were so busy, I got curious and decided to...indulge. Just this once,” Zayne admits, his eyes never leaving yours as he holds you close.

You don’t speak, in shock at the way his words are slightly whiny and sulky all at once, something you never heard from Zayne. Zayne was never one to be jealous, and much less to actually show that jealousy.

Zayne’s eyes lower, glowing at you in a soft regret, “I’m sorry.”

You giggle, resting your head on his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. For that brief moment, you forget all about the watchful eyes around you, only able to focus on the man you loved before you.

“How many drinks did you have?”

He pauses, looking genuinely deep in thought as he tries to recall the night, “Two, no…maybe three.”

You grin wordlessly. Zayne never drank, so he was undoubtedly a lightweight, that was no surprise. But you would’ve thought it would take more than three drinks to knock the formidable man off his ass.

Zayne’s jaw clenched as he admires how beautiful you look tonight, his wandering alcohol-fueled desires pushing him to want to see much more, “Would it be alright if we called it a night?”

You nod, peering up at him, “Of course, are you not feeling well from the alcohol?”

Zayne averts his eyes, clearing his throat. His neck bobs against his undone collar, his tie hanging loosely around his chest.

“I’m alright. I just…want to be alone with you.”

By the time you arrived at your apartment, Zayne had gotten considerably more drunk, the alcohol being further absorbed into his bloodstream.

You hurriedly bring him a cool glass of water, standing in between his thighs, over his limp body. Zayne’s head is thrown back against the cushion of your couch, already having yanked off his suit jacket and tie, the articles of clothing strewn over the arm of the seat, his neck and collar exposed. His snowy pale skin is splotched red, practically radiating a wave of heat.

Your fingers cup his sharp jaw, tilting his chin up, shifting to hold his heavy head in the palm of your hand, stroking his cheek lovingly. Zayne’s eyes flicker up to yours as you tilt him up, his glasses slightly fogged up from the heated crimson flush on his cheeks. His eyes light up when they meet yours, his eyelashes fluttering as he fights to keep his eyes open. You bite your lip, trying to keep your wide smile at bay. He looked so utterly adorable like this, looking up so affectionately obedient like this.

You bring the glass gently up to his lips, encouraging him to drink. Zayne obeys, lips latching onto the edge of the cup as you tilt it forward, gently nudging his chin upwards with your other hand.

His eyes flutter open at the feeling of your touch, his golden emerald irises trained solely on you as he drinks, refusing to look away. He’s so focussed on you that dribbles of water stream down his chin as he gulps down the entire glass, falling onto his collar.

His eyes never leave yours as he chugs the entire glass of refreshing water, the whites of his eyes shining in the dim lighting of your apartment. If anyone else saw the way Zayne looked at you, they’d swear they could see hearts reflected in them as he drank from your hands. He looked at you as if his entire world spun around you, the center of his universe.

When you pull away, Zayne’s eyes still don’t leave yours. Instead, they appear to become more intense, more fiery.

“Zayne? Do you want more water?”

He doesn’t answer. You’re too distracted by the incensed pools of peridot when Zayne yanks you onto his lap, lips capturing yours hungrily.

–

“Ngh – Zayne!” you moan, pulling away from his demanding and bruising lips. Zayne grants you a brief break to breathe, but his fingers firmly hold your hips in place atop his erection that strains against his buckled pants, the two of you nestled deep into the couch cushion.

He gives you a second before he’s yanking your chin towards him again, soft mouth crushed against yours in an instant. Your lips are captured gently between his teeth, his hunger for you insatiable. The taste of alcohol is still faint on his tongue, and he wants nothing more than to overwhelm himself with the taste of you.

You’re completely engulfed by him, the ferocity of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his breath against your tongue. Zayne’s jaw alternates, side to side, trying to give himself the best access to you he can possibly get. The cool touch of metal grazes against your cheeks, his glasses pressing against you in the vigor of his embrace. He groans in frustration into your mouth, forcing himself to briefly pull away.

Before you can even question him, he’s yanking his misted up glasses off by the temples, tossing them onto your coffee table without a second glance, without a single care. His eyes are hooded with desire, his glasses no longer obstructing you from him. They shut sensually when he leans back in, lips parting as his glasses clatter louding against the table.

He says nothing, smashing his lips into yours once again. You can vaguely feel the distinct bump of his nose, pressing into your skin, when he grabs the back of your head, pulling you harder against his all consuming hunger.

His tongue is unbelievably tender against yours, despite how urgently and desperately he devours you. His fingers press into the divots of your arched back, his arms are completely wrapped around you, bringing you into an affectionate embrace as he continues to consume you whole. His fingers stroke up and down the half exposed expanse of your back, enjoying how soft you feel against his big hands.

You grind down onto his cock as you try and match his passion, your panties sticking to your soaked folds. Your thighs are spread so widely against his legs, that the dampness smears against his dress pants, your dress doing little to hold anything back.

Zayne hisses at the delicious pressure, lips leaving yours to gasp into your ear, his hot breath caressing the sensitive skin.

“D-Don’t,” he gulps deeply, alcohol and anticipation making him trip over his words, “Unless you're willing to take responsibility for the consequences.”

You shiver at his words, leaning in to kiss his reddened earlobe, “And if I am?”

And that’s how you find yourself naked, sweaty, and writhing on your back, under the pressure of Zayne’s half naked body on top of you, his cock ravaging every inch of your poor cunt.

Zayne is a mumbling and moaning mess above you, droplets of sweat beading on his bright red temples, his damp hair dangling below his forehead. His unbuttoned dress shirt flies wildly, his thick muscles twitching every time his lower half drives into you like a madman. If it weren’t for the sweat lining your back, you’d undoubtedly be pushed around the couch like a ragdoll under Zayne’s furious passion.

You can barely see Zayne’s eyes, his dangling bangs obscuring much of his frantic face. You do your best to sit up, your chin on your chest, watching the way Zayne’s glistening body jackhammers into you, his rhythm erratic and desperate.

Trying not to drool, you watch his abdominal muscles twitch, his briefs and dress pants hanging off his hips. He’d been so eager to bury himself inside of you that he didn’t even take off his clothing, instead pulling his cock out from under the top of the waistband of his briefs. It’s so heavy and thick with excitement that the restraint of his brief’s waistband is no match for it.

“M’sorry,” Zayne mumbles, so slurred you barely even hear it through the clinking of his undone belt, hanging off his waist.

“Wh-what?” you pant, tugging at the sweat-soaked shirt that clings to his back.

“Didn’t mean to get so intoxicated,” he pants breathlessly, almost sounding guilty, “I’m sorry.”

Your heart clenches at the vulnerability shining in his eyes. You know he’s not used to letting himself feel his emotions like this, to really give into his needs and desires.

“Zayne, don’t apologize,” you whimper through the pleasure, stroking his cheek, “You’re allowed to let go sometimes.”

Your words nearly make Zayne snarl, his pelvis slapping into your ass, his hands elevating hips, your thighs wrapped tightly into his sides.

“You’re so good to me,” he rasps, eyes rolling back as his praises make your body instinctively clench down, “I–I love you.”

“A-ahh nghn – love you s’much Zayne,” you squeal as he thrusts even deeper into you, his confession only increasing the passion he feels for you in the drunken moment.

You’re surprised when you feel his damp hair pressing against your forehead, his cool lips brushing a soft kiss onto it, deceptively gentle compared to the way he ravages your wet heat.

“M’always thinking about you,” Zayne moans, voice muffled as he kisses your forehead over and over, unable to keep his lips, his hands, off of you.

“I think about y’too Za–ayne,” you pant, trying to focus on forming coherent words through the shape of his erection being molded into your core. You knew just how vulnerable the fog of alcohol had made Zayne and wanted more than anything to reassure him.

But his cock stretching you out, nearly the width of a clenched fist, made that so difficult.

“You looked – you look ravishing tonight,” he slurs, kissing down your cheek and onto your neck, “Had a hard time tonight, watching you – hic – be the most beautiful girl in the room.”

Your chest flutters and you blush, clenching onto him, “H-Hardly.”

Zayne’s eyebrows furrow, giving you a pointed thrust, making your breasts jiggle at the force, “Look at what you do to me.”

His fingers cup your breast forcefully, squeezing down on your poor nipple, “You know I’m not one for jealousy…”

“But even I am not immune when you look like that, giving everyone but me your attention.”

“Sorry, my love,” you murmur, trying your best to speak through his frantic thrusts, “You know you’re the one I come home to at the end of the day.”

Zayne’s eyes darken with satisfaction, his fingers twirling your nipple in between them, “I suppose. But does that give you the right to let men flirt with you shamelessly all night?”

“Zayne, they weren’t —” But apparently protesting was a mistake, because Zayne only starts to hammer into you harder.

“They were,” he growls drunkenly, letting his emotions take control for a split second, “But I can’t really blame them, not when you look like this. Not when you feel this perfect around me.”

You whine at his words, his simultaneous threats and praises making it impossible for you to think straight.

“I-I’m soorry,” you find yourself apologizing, wanting to please Zayne, “Won’t do it again, I’ll b-be good!”

“No need to – hah – apologize, my love,” Zayne groans, “Not when I plan on reminding you exactly who you belong to tonight, all night.”

Your body convulses around him, knowing just how much stamina Zayne has, just how serious his slurred words are. Zayne’s hips falter, his body buckling into you.

“You’re s-oo tight,” he groans brokenly, letting his head fall down to your chest, “All for me, right?

“Allll f’you! Only you!” you cry, your fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt when his teeth close over your nipple, nibbling gently. You claw at his back, desperately wanting to be able to touch his bare skin, but his white dress shirt is in the way.

“That’s my girl,” he moans, words muffled by the way his tongue circles around your hardened peaks, suckling like he was trying to find the antidote to intoxication, “So good for me.”

As his thrusts grow sloppier, you know he’s coming close to his end. But you’re surprised when he pulls out suddenly, leaving you feeling empty.

“W-Why?” you demand, leaning up on your elbows in protest. Your eyes widen, almost salivating, when you see the way Zayne is gripping the base of his cock, the thick head red, angry, and ready to burst. He curses, forcing himself to take deep breaths, desperately trying to hold his orgasm back. He was learning that alcohol significantly decreased his normally endless supply of stamina.

“Don’t want to – ngh – finish yet,” he pants, hooking his arm under your back and flipping you over so that your back faces him, your hips arched slightly off the couch. He quickly takes off his pants that are pooled by his knees, his briefs still clinging to his muscled thighs.

You squeak in surprise when you feel the wet smack of Zayne’s cock against your ass, the surgeon hissing at the painful yet arousing sensation. The sting helps to keep him from exploding right onto your beautiful body.

“Ngh – Zaaayne!” you squeal when Zayne shoves himself back into you, parting your cheeks to give himself better access. You claw at your couch as he picks up his speed, rhythm still unsteady.

“I’m sorry,” Zayne apologizes, his words bordering on frenzied babbles as he pounds into you, his heavyset balls slapping against your clit, “M’sorry, love. Let me make it better.”

He leans down, pressing a trail of kisses down your spine, his pelvis rippling against your rear. His veiny forearms cage you into the couch, his foot lifting to step onto the cushion, right by your waist. With his leg raising as leverage, he can truly jackhammer into you.

Zayne goes absolutely feral in this position, his fingers coming up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging gently as he bounces up and down on your ass. The sounds of skin against skin, drunken moans, and moist squelches resounds like a symphony in the early morning lighting of your apartment.

His grasp tightens in your hair, his other hand kneading the plush of your ass as it ripples against his thrusts. His voice lowers, throwing his head back with a moan, “Been waiting all night to have you like this.”

“Oh-oh God!” you cry when he thrusts into you, particularly hard and deep, making you see stars, “Zayne I-I can’t – I’m so close!”

Zayne hoists you onto all fours, gently lifting your upper body by your neck so that you’re pressed firmly against him with your knees holding you up. He kneels behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other secures your neck against his chest.

“Me too, angel,” Zayne pants into your ear, his breath hot and moist. You can feel the truth in his words, his thighs shaky against yours, his thrusts erratic.

“Please, let me cum in you,” Zayne rasps.

“When have I ever denied you?” you respond. Zayne came inside you nearly every time you two were intimate, ever since you’d started birth control.

“It’s a waste, if it’s not inside you,” Zayne slurs, “You’ll take it, right?”

When you don’t respond, too wrapped up in the bliss of it all, Zayne’s hand descends to pinch your nipple. The power of his thrusts, the tease of his hands, his aura. He commands authority,

“Tell me you’ll take it all, for me.”

“I will, I will! P-please Zayne, give it to me!”

Zayne groans, grip tightening against your body, hugging you for dear life, “That’s my girl, that’s it, just like that.

Zayne has always been vocal, but his drunken ramblings have taken it to another level. You clench down, ready to come undone to the sound of his filthy praises.

Zayne is close behind you, hands kneading your breasts, balls slapping against your clit, “It’s coming Y/N, take it. Take it for me, please.”

You scream in response, cunt spasming around the last of his messy ruts. Zayne’s own strangled groans mix with the sound of wet flesh slapping against each other. You can feel every beautiful ribbon of white hot cum painting your insides, coating every inch of your waiting womb.

Zayne’s skin often felt ice-cold, but his cum always came out so hot and heedy. And now, with the flush of alcohol still clouding his circulation, his milky ropes of seed nearly made you feverish.

Zayne slumps against you, his body spent, drained bone-dry. The weight of him against your quivering muscles is too much, and your thighs give out, sending you crashing into the couch. He catches you before you can slam face-first into the carpeted floor.

He sets your limp body gently into the couch, shrugging off his white button-up.

“Zayne,” you murmur groggily, savoring the image of his muscles peaking through his open shirt, “Come cuddle.”

The corner of his lip twitches, “I will, sweetheart. Let me clean you up first.”

Using the clean inside of his shirt, he carefully wipes off the slick that collects at your inner thighs, before it can pool onto the couch. Your legs are putty in his hands, Zayne cleaning you with the utmost care and tenderness.

When he’s done, he settles beside you on the couch, shifting you so that your neck rests on his forearm. He holds you close with one arm, the other drawing lazy circles into your stomach.

Zayne turns his head to the side, pressing a kiss into your temple, “Thank you. For taking care of me tonight.”

You can tell by Zayne’s calm and steady tone that he’s sobered up quite a bit from the orgasm, the control returning to his deep timbre.

You giggle, nuzzling deeper into his arm, the hairs of his underarm tickling your shoulder, “I hardly did anything.” In the comfortable silence, your eyes start to flutter closed.

“You did more than you know,” Zayne whispers, the tender smile in his voice unmistakeable. You simply nod, muttering incoherently as you fall into a deep and sated slumber.

“You are everything.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.9k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, car sex, publix sex/slight voyeurism, sex while pulled over in da passenger seat, bottom raf, riding, face sitting, rafayel is a MUNCH, oral f!receiving, jealous raf, drunk rafayel, protective rafayel, somewhat mentions of violence, unprotected sex, no pull out ever

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | pics 1 | pics 2 (both rafayel's car)

The night road ahead of you is peacefully calm, the drive back to Rafayel’s house a peaceful and scenic trip. There's very few cars beside yours, well Rafayel’s, on the main roads back, likely because it was close to 2am.

You were honestly having way too much fun driving Rafayel’s car, thoroughly enjoying the purr of the beautiful Benz. You didn’t have the opportunity to drive many cars, let alone a Gran Turismo.

Your fingers tap gently along the rim of the steering wheel, admiring the elegant LED lights that kept you awake. Rafayel had the car’s interior lights set to a blushed lavender color, ever since you’d said it was your favorite setting. It reminded you of the pink in his cotton candy eyes.

Your eyes flicker to your right, briefly checking on Rafayel as he groans beside you in the passenger seat.

He sat with his arm propped up against the passenger side window, his head resting on his palm. His breathing was still shallow, his eyes closed in a restless and light sleep. The alcohol was no doubt making it difficult for him to rest.

You sigh to yourself, trying to think back to how the night had ended disastrously with him so damn drunk.

Rafayel had invited you as his date to one of his endless art exhibits, a few cities over from your home. Only this one was special.

When they’d unveiled his starring piece, a beautiful oil painting on a massive canvas that nearly reached the ceiling, you nearly fell to your knees.

Because Rafayel had painted the most exquisite portrait of you.

You, surrounded in ribbons of coral and seaweed, the most colorful globs of intricate paint surrounding you, a mosaic of sea glass. You, dancing in the endless sea of pastel turquoise. You, in Lemuria. His home.

Rafayel had painted you countless times before, you were his muse after all. Even if he never admitted that openly to you. But this was different, he’d never so openly shared you with this world before. Never wanted to open himself up like this, to anyone, to you.

It was beautiful as it was magnificent. It made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, more gorgeous than you’d ever felt in your entire life. The way he’d put paint to canvas and created literal magic.

It appeared others thought so too. All the patrons attending the gala that night clamored around the oil canvas, press snapping photos, writers grabbing at Rafayel, trying to get anything for their tabloids.

It was nothing out of the norm. You’d become quite used to the glitz, glamor, and madness that came with being his girlfriend.

What was unexpected, was the attention you got, as the subject of the painting.

The people who wanted a piece of you, the stunning woman in Rafyel’s newest piece. Rafayel did his best to keep you comfortable, shooing away the throws of people trying to get even a morsel of anything from you.

“Rafayel. It’s okay. I can handle it,” you give him your best reassuring smile, “Go mingle with your guests, I’ll be fine.”

Rafayel looks reluctant, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, unwilling to let go. Eventually you convince him, with the promise of a reward later if he listened, to go speak to the serious sponsors and buyers that demanded his attention.

“Never should’ve painted that damn thing,” he muttered as he walked off, looking back at you as Thomas dragged him off. He should’ve known sharing you with the world would have driven him insane.

So you spent the rest of the night trying to be as sociable as possible, not wanting to upset any of Rafayel’s guests. After a few hours you finally found a free moment, finding yourself in front of the portrait once again. Most of the people had cleared out, giving you a chance to really admire the masterpiece.

Rafayel was undeniably talented, maybe the most gifted artist in the world, you’d always thought so. But the way he painted you here was more than just art.

It was his heart on a canvas. And his heart, his entire world, was you. Every fiber of his soul, woven together into a tapestry of lustrous colors, each one depicting a different memory.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You turn your head to the stranger’s voice, coming face to face with a handsome man, clad head to toe in the most luxurious brands. He stands so uncomfortably close to you that you can smell the nauseating cologne wafting off of him. And yet it’s his aura that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably.

He fills in your awkward silence, eyes looking you up and down, “Definitely not as beautiful as the real thing.”

You really don’t know how to respond to the stranger’s boldness, in shock at how forward he’s being. Your relationship with Rafayel was no secret, the paparazzi having photographed the two of you publicly many times. And you’d walked into the gala on Rafayel’s arm.

“Thank you,” you say curtly, offering a small smile, trying to return your attention to the display.

“I’m going to buy it, you know. And then maybe after, I can buy you a drink?” when his hand lands on your bare shoulder you flinch back, ready to resort to your tactical training. The thought of this man buying a portrait of you makes you nauseous.

Before you can give him a piece of your mind, he’s falling backward with a surprised yelp.

“Hands off the art,” an all-too familiar voice snarls, as he stands between you and the man. You’re too shell shocked to realize Rafayel is clearly drunk, his charismatic voice drawling muddily.

“Don’t touch me,” the man snaps, “I bought this piece, I legally own it.” The way he says ‘piece’ makes your blood boil, the misogyny dripping off his words.

Rafayel, drunk as he might be, catches on too. Fire burns in his eyes, matching the heat of his Evol. Thomas isn’t far behind, looking at you with desperation on his face, begging you to help him defuse the situation. Rafayel was spontaneous enough as it was, there was no telling the lengths he’d go to when he was intoxicated, especially when you were involved.

You reach your hand out, grasping Rafayel’s fingers and gently pulling him back towards you.

“He’s not worth it,” you whisper when Rafayel’s head snaps to you, his eyes softening instantly when they land on you. Rafayel spares the man, rubbing his wrist with a grimace, a glance. You wrap your arm around Rafayel’s waist tugging him close to you and trying to lead him out of the nearly empty gala.

Rafayel takes a deep and shaky breath, before nodding slightly. As he turns to leave with you, he glances back to the man and Thomas, his chin raised.

“It’s not for sale.”

“B-But I already wrote the check,” the man blew up, face red with anger and disbelief.

Rafayel smiles, a fake and genuinely terrifying smile, “I don’t care how many checks you write. You’re never looking at her again.”

It’s enough to even send chills down your spine.

With those words, Rafayel exited the gallery with you on his arm, you rubbing soothing circles into his back. It was rare Rafayel got full blown drunk; you’d seen him tipsy numerous times, but he was always careful not to cross the line into completely losing control of his inhibitions.

As he slumped in the passenger seat of his car, he briefly explained just how he found himself so shit-faced.

“Everyone was taking your time,” he slurred, breathing heavily. The alcohol made him bluntly honest, much more so than he’d normally be about something like this.

“Oh, Rafayel…” you giggle, bending over to latch his seatbelt in, “I know, it’s usually you getting the attention, it must have been weird to share it. I’m sorry.”

Rafayel scoffs, his head resting on the window, “S’not why I was upset. I don’t like sharing you.”

You bite your lip to fight the smile that threatens to sneak its way onto your face, “Why didn’t you just come back?”

“Was trying to distract myself. Didn’t want to disappoint you,” he mutters, his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest as you start the car, “I know you wanted me to talk to the annoying old farts.”

And then he promptly dozed off, like a precious little baby.

You were about 15 minutes from his place when Rafayel stirred awake from the mere feeling of your hand on his thigh. It was far too dark to see the tent growing in his pants, all from your fingers stroking his sensitive thighs, even when he was unconscious.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, giving him a smile when you see the movement in the corner of your eye, “You feeling okay? I have water in my bag.”

“P-Pull over,” Rafayel slurs, still clearly drunk. His eyes are glued to your palm on his leg. Not even he knows why the innocent touch has him so worked up and feral.

“What?!” you exclaim in a mix of disbelief and shock, “We’re so close to home –”

“Pull over,” he urges you again, the strain between his legs growing painful, “Please.”

His urgency makes you nervous, and you quickly find a secluded area you can pull over, turning your hazards on when you do so.

“Do you need to throw up?” you turn to him worriedly, grasping his thigh tighter in your fingers and rubbing soothingly, unsure of what to do.

Rafayel groans at your unknowingly innocent actions, rubbing his hand down his face, which only makes you worry more.

You undo your seatbelt so you can sit on your knees and face him, your hands still rubbing up and down his thighs, hoping to make him feel better.

Rafayel takes that opportunity to undo his own seatbelt, hoisting you out of your seat and onto his lap. You try to muffle your scream as he effortlessly carries you onto his lap, cramped between his body and the front dash. It always surprised you just how powerful Rafayel’s body was despite his toned and slender build.

“Rafayel!” you squeal as he sits you on his lap, “What are you doing?!”

He doesn’t speak, only looking up at you with big wet eyes. He spreads your thighs so that they cage his own legs, his hands resting on your sumptuous hips. Despite his strong and possessive hold, you’re still able to twist around to grab your tote bag, pulling out a plastic water bottle.

“Don’t need to throw up,” he mumbles, looking up at you through his long and dark eyelashes, “Jus’ need you.”

With his hand on your back he pushes you down until your chest is flush with his, capturing your lips in a feverish all-consuming kiss. The bitter and sharp taste of alcohol is still strong on his tongue, his lips impatiently messy and insistent. Rafayel rocks up into you as he loses himself into your embrace, his very clear and prominent erection begging for attention.

“R-Raf!” you pull away, even at his whiny refusal, hands still tugging at the clothing at your hips, “Did you really make me pull over for this?” Your eyes dart around nervously, making sure there’s no cars around you. But it wasn’t necessary, Rafayel’s windows were so tinted that even if you had your nose pressed to the glass you wouldn’t be able to see much.

“Come on, at least drink some water while we’re pulled over,” you untwist the cap of your reusable water bottle.

“No,” Rafayel pouts at you, the rose flecks in his eyes glow as he looks up pleadingly at you, “I don’ want water, wanna kiss you.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the risky and precarious situation you find yourself in. That situation being Rafayel’s very excited crotch.

“Don’t laugh,” Rafayel broods, his bottom lip jutted out, shiny with a sheen of saliva, “I wanted to be with you all night, ‘specially when everyone was getting your attention.” He presses his chin onto your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your body wash and pressing wet kisses into your neck.

“Wan’ my reward now,” Rafayel slurs, his wandering fingers hooking under the thin strap of your evening dress, slipping it off your shoulders.

“You’re drunk Rafayel,” you reason firmly, even though your body is already betraying you. Your thighs squirm, widening instinctively for him, excitement pooling at the apex of your legs.

“Sooo?” Rafayel’s head fall backs onto the headrest, “Just give me a taste, please?”

You want to keep a level head, deny his insane request, but his hard body against your pliable one makes you desperate for more. Besides…the windows are almost completely blacked out and you were in a very secluded upper-end neighborhood, where all the homes had nearly miles of yard between them.

“Fine…” you concede, “But only if you drink some water.”

Rafayel’s eyes practically radiate, nodding eagerly and raising his lips to the cool bottle. His sudden willingness is comical, and you smile fondly at him as you help him to drink. Rafayel’s fingers squeeze against your waist, your soft skin making him grow thicker and hotter by the second.

His body unconsciously grinds against you as he drinks the water, eyes open wide with a faux innocence, staring right at your heated and flushed cheeks. He’s so focussed on admiring the irresistible look of desire on your face as he relentlessly rocks into you, that he doesn’t even feel the cold streams of water trickling down his shaky chin.

His fingers trace delicate and intricate shapes into your waist, eyes hooded at the feeling of your heat against his throbbing member. His eyes never leave yours as he finishes the last of the water, looking up at you through his thick purple eyelashes. His eyes shine brightly, the pinks in them accentuated by the LEDs of the car, watching you with a vast sea of desire.

Just as you remove the bottle from his lips, Rafayel lowers the angle of the passenger seat, as far down as it can possibly go.

You shriek in panic, clutching onto Rafayel as the chair dips suddenly, limbs flailing wildly. Rafayel takes that opportunity to lift your thighs, hoisting you nearly to the top of the passenger seat until you’re kneeling with his face in between your thighs.

“R-Rafayel!” you yelp, gripping onto the leather backseat for balance, thighs squirming at the feeling of his warm breath fanning against your exposed lips. The slick that had pooled in your panties makes you much more sensitive to his heated pants. Practically dripping onto his face.

“You promised a taste,” he mumbles, all consumed by the way you glisten against the dim indoor lights of his car. He doesn’t let you get another word in before he’s pulling your panties to the side and licking a fat strip up your slit, all the way to your clit.

“Ngh – Raf!” If it weren’t for his strong hands on your thighs you would’ve crushed him with the way your knees buckled and you nearly fell on top of him.

Rafayel doesn’t speak, only a filthy string of wet slurps and strung out moans audible, this tongue writhing against you, positively starved. The way he makes out with your cunt makes your muscles melt, your body nearly melding into the seats.

Rafayel can feel your shaky legs struggling to keep you up and he pulls your hips down, guiding you to sit on his face. In your surprise, you fall completely, a choked sob of bliss ripping from your mouth when Rafayel completely engulfs your weeping cunt into his mouth.

You're a babbling mess of the most lewd cries, your thighs clenching unbearably at the pleasure Rafayel’s tongue forces into you. You try not to put too much weight on Rafayel, but he only pushes you down, wanting you to crush his skull.

“Tastes so sweet,” Rafayel moans into you, the vibrations of his praises reverberating through every single one of your nerve endings. As he eats you with a relentless excitement, his eager nose strokes along your folds, gathering your arousal with every stroke.

“And it’s all for me,” he whines in the most pussy drunken voice you’ve ever heard from him, likely from the heavy intoxication, “No one else's, just mine.”

You can tell he’s still reeling from the encounter at the gala, with the man who’d wanted to buy the piece he’d painted for you. Just reassuring himself of things he already knew to be fact.

“And you’re mine,” you gasp through the sparks in your vision, wrought with pleasure. You do your best to keep your nails out of the expensive leather upholstery, tearing at Rafayel’s skin instead.

He grunts with the sting of your scratches, the pain fueling his excitement, which he funnels into the way he devours you, slurping up every single drop that pools down your lips.

With one hand on your thigh, he palms himself through his dress pants, jerking furiously.

It isn’t long before he yanks you away with a desperate gasp, carrying you back down onto his lap, “Need to be inside you now, ‘kay?”

The ears ring with the whiplash, the pleasure being yanked away suddenly, staring at Rafayel with dumbfounded wide eyes. You barely register when he takes his bare cock out, rubbing it up and down your absolutely drenched folds, your dress bunched to your waist.

He holds himself firm in his fingers by the base, squeezing down as he rubs up and down your glistening slit, peering up at your rosy cheeks.

“Baby?” he huffs, sounding faraway, “Can I?”

You barely even register your nod, your body moving on its own volition. Rafayel grins, lining himself up and not wasting another second before sinking himself into you, his favorite place in the entire world.

Your face is stuck in a perpetual oh as Rafayel sinks all the way into you, his veins especially prominent in his intoxication. You can almost feel them throbbing as they squeeze against your tight walls, his hips flattering when he feels himself hit the soft walls of your g-spot.

“Ngh – I love you, Y/N,” Rafayel moans, his arms coming up to wrap around your back, pulling you tightly against his torso.

You nuzzle your head into Rafayel’s chest, needing the support as he starts to rock into you, bouncing your body off his lap with the strength of his thighs.

“O-Oh God,” you whimper into his chest, letting him man handle you against himself, too overwhelmed by the way he’d made you feel with his tongue, and now his cock.

‘J-Jus’ like that, baby,” Rafayel mewls into the crown of your head, taking in deep lungfuls of your scent. His arms are wrapped so tightly around you that you almost can’t breathe, but you only want him to hold you harder, tighter.

You can’t even be bothered to care that you’re fucking in such a public area, the risk of getting caught just a faraway thought. The only thing you can find yourself caring about is the way Rafayel drives deeper into your guts, forcing you to look at him as he buries himself into you.

“Hah – pretty girl,” he breathes out, his body slowing. You realize the alcohol must be making him tired, and you force your weight onto your knees.

“L-Let me, Raf,” you whisper, sitting up as much as you can until your head brushes against the car roof. Rafayel watches you with wondrous eyes as you begin to ride him.

“Oo-oh shiit,” he groans, mesmerized by the way you roll your body into him, “You're so perfect, Y/N. Just like that, please don’t s-stop.”

You whimper, biting your lip and trying to control the way his cock has your body screaming for release. You lean back onto his knees, one hand grappling at the window for leverage, the other cupping his balls.

Your hand is met with the wet condensation of the frosted window, the mixture of yours and Rafayel’s torrid breaths fogging up the interior completely. It’s such a sensual sight that you clench down on Rafayel, thinking about the passion of this moment, in the confined space of his favorite car.

Rafayel lets out the most delicious string of moans and expletives as you gently massage his balls in your fingers, fondling them delicately, “Oh God, that feels so good, you feel – angh – amazing.”

You throw all your energy into rolling your hips against Rafayel’s pelvis, wanting to use him until you were utterly spent.

“So big Raf,” you wail, struggling to keep up a rhythm as his size splits you in half, “I-I’m soo clo-ose.”

“Fuuck, me too,” Rafayel grunts, his neck craning back, back arching slightly at the way you ride him so filthily, “Don’t stop, I’m almost – ngh – there.”

His lewd words are your last straw, your hips stuttering as your cunt coils tightly around his length, your body orgasming so intensely through your tightly shut eyes. You desperately hope no one is nearby, because the muffled screams coming from the inside of the car were sure to be audible.

“You love me, right?” Rafayel slurs, his eyes wet and on the verge of coming undone, needing your words to be the final push.

“I love you Raf,” you gasp brokenly, still bouncing on his lap, “Soo-oo much!”

Your vice grip on him has Rafayel seeing stars of his own, the blinding pleasure signaling his own release. As he cums, he brings you back to his chest in a heated embrace, babbling into your mussed hair.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” comes his strangled mantra, the words overflowing from his wet puffy lips, “My Queen.”

You whimper as Rafayel fills you with rope after rope of his hot seed, it already beginning to seep out of your hole and down his still hard length. He gives you everything he has, the soul nearly being sucked out his body through his cockhead.

Rafayel digs his nails into your back as you overstimulate him with your languid thrusts, urging you to stop.

“N-No more,” he whines, holding you in place, “You’re trying to kill me.”

You still your hips with a chuckle, listening to his rapidly pounding heart, “I would never.”

Rafayel strokes your hair, holding you against his body, his cock softening and slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of how much dampness leaks out of you, sitting up and trying to cup yourself so it doesn’t leak all over Rafayel’s seats.

But Rafayel holds you back down, “No. Stay.”

“Rafayel, it's going to ruin the seats!”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, his voice still sluggish from the alcohol, nuzzling his face into your chest as he hugs you to keep you from moving.

“You care, you love this car. I love this car,” you whine, trying to pull away and keep the slick from spilling everywhere, but he doesn’t relent.

“Just say you love the car more than me,” he sulks, his bottom lip protruding.

You glare at him, before deciding to tease him and play along, “I love the car more than y–”

Rafayel covers your mouth with his hand, squinting at you, “If you finish that sentence I’ll scream.”

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

3K notes · View notes

rafesfavgirl · 5 months

Text

jj maybank headcanons

pairing: bf!jj x fem!reader

context: jj maybank as your boyfriend.

words: 657

warnings: definitely +18. mdni. daddy issues, marijuana use, alcohol use, abandonment issues, attachment issues, physical and mental abuse, SMUT

jj's 100% the definition of a "golden retriever" boyfriend.

your relationship doesn't start out all sunshine and rainbows at first, though.

y'all were definitely a friends with benefits to lovers story.

at first, y’all kept it completely physical because you were both afraid of getting too attached and hurting each other.

jj felt like this, especially. he just didn’t think he was good enough for you.

but even when y’all were just fucking, he’d do the sweetest things for you. including making sure you were all cleaned up afterwards.

once you started dating though, the sweetness only amplified.

he doesn’t have much money, but he ALWAYS brings you flowers that he’s picked from somewhere—whether that be some kook’s garden, the country club, or even outside the chateau.

you are his absolute number one priority and the most important thing in his life.

you’re his ray of sunshine.

whenever things get bad at home with luke, you’re the first person he comes to.

when luke hits him and he shows up at your door with bruises, you nurse him back to health.

when luke talks down to him and makes him feel like a piece of shit, you reassure him that he’s not.

“you’re perfect, j. it’s not your fault.”

he’s terrified of losing you.

sometimes he thinks you’re going to see all his flaws and leave him just like his mom did. you always tell him otherwise, though.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby.”

when he gets anxious after all the pogues start fighting, you squeeze his hand three times and that makes him feel better.

he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve you.

he always takes you out on adventurous little dates—and sometimes, y’all get in trouble for it.

you’re his number one surfing buddy.

he was the one who taught you how to surf.

your family’s the family he’s never had.

he loves when your family invites him over for dinner and he gets to play with your little siblings, who absolutely adore him.

when you and the pogues smoke together, his favorite thing is when you hold the joint out in front of him and let him take a hit that way.

you always help him with his party trick when he tries to do it on the hms pogue.

you’re the only one who can keep up with him when it comes to taking shots and drinking. john b, pope, and kie always tap out.

sometimes you get insecure about his close friendship with kie, but he always assures you that it’s only you.

“i love you. you got that?”

his favorite nicknames for you are mama, princess, baby, and baby girl.

you’re the only one he’s ok with addressing him by his full name—jesse james.

don’t think everything’s perfect though, sometimes you fight too.

especially about guns. and jj getting into fights.

you always nurse him back to health regardless, but you hate when he gives in and scrambles with whoever.

fights are non-negotiable if someone says shit about you, though.

not only will he go against your wishes about him fighting, but he’ll make sure he wins.

speaking of jealousy, it doesn’t happen often, but he definitely still gets jealous every now and then. and he loves reminding you that you're his.

“you’re mine, princess.”

he’ll show you that in bed too.

and since it's jj, he's an ABSOLUTE FREAK in the sheets, and kinky as hell too.

he'll tie you up, eat you out, and make you cum over and over again until you beg him to stop.

he loves bending you over and fucking you while giving your ass a little smack.

he chokes you occasionally, but prefers pulling your hair.

he will lick anything off of you and tease your clit until you're squirming.

he definitely has a daddy kink too.

when you give him head, he loves giving you facials.

and his favorite position is your legs on his shoulders.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

#jj maybank #jj #jj obx #jj outerbanks #soft jj #cute jj #cute jj maybank #jj headcanons #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank smut #jj smut #jj fluff #jj hcs #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank x y/n

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unohanabbygirl · 1 year

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Sorry for the late response to the latest chapter of FMN. Okay I feel like Luke deserves to get a punch in on Aemond when he gets his memories back, maybe a few actually for what Aemond said in the past, even if he was trying to cover up his heartbreak. Everything about Daemon’s POV is spot on and I love how you managed to accomplish that! So what I gathered is that Daemon is still the uncle of the Targtower kids and Rhaenyra is his first cousin, right? And my god, reading Luke’s files from the past was absolutely crushing. I really hope there’s a copy of that video on Luke’s mom or they find her because I feel like there will be a damning piece of evidence that might be key in Luke’s trial. I think I got all of the hints you dropped and let me tell you I am freaking out about what it all means and how it will all play out as the story continues. Also Aemma, love you lots, but not good timing. Excellent writing as always and much love!

Luke deserves to get in more than a punch after everything he’s been through both in the past AND the present. Anger is an understandable emotion and if anyone in owed to take a few hits out on their murderer it’s Luke. Regardless of the fact that deep down he still might want to give Aemond smooches.

Despite all of this I can’t help but feel that the saddest part is even if he beat Aemond black and blue, no physical hit could amount to even a fraction of the pain he’s experienced and will have to learn to work through in order to make life worth living. It’s the most bittersweet part of the whole story. Even when everything is set and done, everyone kisses and makes up and all that jazz, these things still happened to Luke and truly healing is a process that’ll take years.

I’m so happy that you liked Daemon’s pov! He’s such a hard character to make come to life from a realistic angle because he’s such a confusing man. He’s not a bad guy but he’s definitely no where near a good guy either. Its that perfect gray area which makes it hard to get a good read on him. He maims rapists which is amazing, but clearly has less than familial feelings for his 14yr old niece. He loves both of his wife’s and adores their children to death but had no problem killing his first wife who did nothing to him he give him the same attitude he gave her (in show canon at least since he wasn’t in the Vale when Rhae died in f&b) Yea, he killed a little boy, but this is a world that operates on rules similar to the old testament. An eye for an eye, a leg for a leg, a son for a son.

Personally I feel that some people either write him like a stereotypical evil villain while others make him too uncaring and laid back. So i’m glad that I hit that good spot in the middle.

You’re correct! His brother Travis is the green kids father making him their uncle while Rhaenyra is his first cousin on his aunts side. I wanted everyone to still have that close familial relationship by blood while still switching things up enough to make their new relation believable and fit the timeline.

There’s definitely a bigger plot playing out in the background and Luke’s mother is a key player. Everything from being the only person who knows Luke’s true father to getting that mysterious call from her his self-proclaimed sister and whatever lawyer was able to get her such a good get out of jail free card after how she treated Luke. Cathryne is an important puzzle piece who we can only hope will come out of hiding soon. (Or get dragged out 👀)

Lol, Aemma really chose the worst to show up didn’t she? Daemon’s world is falling apart as he tries to piece together his newly found sons past while his smartest most mature kids have decided to do the most idiotic thing ever and sneak into a club and get sloppy drunk + start a fight all while knowing that Luke is knee deep in serious legal trouble. Now isn’t the greatest time for grandma Aemma to pull up with homemade chocolate chip cookies 😭

I appreciate your sweet words babes. Much love to you too 🥰

#asks

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barbiewritesstuff · 2 years

Text

Church Encounters: Chapter 7

-- we're throwing in some angst in this one because life is rarely smooth sailing, hope y'all still like it. Thank you for your continued support, we are obsessed with this.

This fic was written in collaboration with @Igg5989 you can find this fic on her tumblr and her Ao3!

Tw. Child neglect, brief mention of parentification, physical abuse, death and I think that's it?

Previous Part

Taglist: @acarboni21 @unsurebuttrying @dempy @peaches-1998 @bbooks-and-teas --

“-- phone number is on the fridge, as well as both my parents’ and Beau’s mother’s number if there’s a problem. Bedtime is at 8 for the little ones and the boys go when they want to. Don’t forget prayers and teeth, even if I know you won’t --”

Elisabeth Simpson had employed you every Friday for the past three years to watch over the children in the small amount of time between her attending her book club, and her husband coming home from work. Even though you were a seasoned babysitter, having cared for the children right through the newborn phase, the I-will-eat-everything phase, the terrible twos and innumerable flus, colds and allergic reactions, she still gave you the same speech every Friday evening. You couldn’t judge, you would have been the same if you had had to leave your children.

“Don’t worry, I got everything under control,” You laughed a little, “Besides, it’s only until Admiral Simpson comes home, so even if there’s a problem, I’m sure we can wait until he gets here,” You said, rattling off the same script you always did.

And as always, she glanced at you one last time, waved her children goodbye and walked out of the house. You turned around clapping your hands together.

“Right, kids. What are we watching tonight?” You asked.

The triplets loudly demanded Dora The Explorer. Matthew wanted Stranger Things, and Peter offered to watch “A classic display of cinematographic genius”. After scolding Peter for even asking to watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in the presence of his younger sisters, you compromised by setting up what you wanted to watch: Love, Actually. The boys groaned but came around at the sight of Keira Knightly. Picking up your buckets of popcorn you all piled onto the couch, you started the film.

The credits had just started to roll when you heard the noise of keys jingling in the lock. A minute later, an exhausted Admiral walked into the room. He kissed his children on the head and spared you a wave before beelining for the shower. You set to work herding the girls into the other bathroom and brushed their teeth, managing, somehow, not to get bitten. You combed their curly brown hair and braided it nicely and then, after one last trip to the toilet, you corralled them into their room. They all knelt by their beds and held their hands together for their bedtime prayer. You didn’t even have to guide them as they mumbled

“Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

Angels guard me through the night,

And wake me up with the morning light.

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,

Bless this bed that I lie on,

Four corners to my bed,

Four angels round my head.

One to watch and One to pray

And two to bare my soul away.”

You watched over them as they finished and climbed into their bed. They pulled the duvet up to their chins and clutched their teddy bears tightly as they slowly drifted off to sleep. You pushed yourself against the door you had been leaning on with a shiver, you had never quite noticed how macabre the second half of the prayer was until it was spoken in perfect unison by three little girls, getting ready to sleep.

You didn’t hear the door behind you creak open and Cyclone sneak in, “I don’t know why they do that last part. We didn’t teach them…” He whispered and you damn near jumped out of your skin. Holding in the urge to hit your superior officer, you opted to shoot him your most scalding glare instead. He smirked.

“Peter has the Texas Chainsaw Massacre ready to go,” He added, nodding towards the living room.

“That film is so not appropriate for a sixteen and a fourteen year old!” You whispered back.

“I told them they could but not to come crying to me if they were too scared,” He shrugged. You looked at him for a minute, trying to figure out if you needed to put up more of a fight against this and deciding not to. He was their father after all, Elisabeth could blame him if they couldn’t sleep.

“This better not be a repeat of Stephen King’s IT,” You warned as you followed him into the livingroom.

Cyclone handed you another bucket of popcorn and pulled out a coke from the fridge for all of you, now that the three sugar fiends had been peacefully tucked away in their room. He pressed play and the film started.

“Can I just remind you that YOU were scared of Stephen King’s IT,” Peter told you, seemingly unable to remind you of that fact for more than ten minutes, “So scared, in fact, that Dad had to walk you home.”

“No. No no. I wasn’t scared,” You lied, “I was worried, there had been a few things in the news that made me worried to go out there alone.”

“Riiiiight,” He said, turning his attention to the tv screen, “Were you also worried when we watched The Woman in Black? And Misery --”

“Okay, Misery was terrifying and you know it,” you butted in before he could finish.

Peter let out another snicker, “Fine, but you were scared of Stranger Things.”

You huffed with frustration, “I was not! Admiral, your children are liars.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Admiral Simpson laughed, trying to put an end to the bickering.

Peter looked at you with a look of mock betrayal, “You traitorous snitch!” He exclaimed before wrestling the pillow he was leaning against from underneath him and placing a well-aimed swing at your figure. Popcorn flew everywhere as you dropped the bucket and let it fall to the floor. You curled up as small as you could, trying not to laugh too loudly so as to not wake up the girls, but the hits kept coming. Somewhere along the way, Matthew joined in swinging wildly with as many pillows as he could hold.

You were viciously attacked until Cyclone stepped in. He threw a blanket in the air, it landed perfectly on both boys, taking advantage of their temporary target loss he picked them both up from the waist and carried them straight to their room where you heard him throw them onto their beds.

Their change of terrain didn’t bother them too much as they immediately bounced back onto their feet. Cyclone quickly ran out of the room and blocked the door from the outside. The boys laughed as they fought but eventually their energy petered out and the banging on the door stopped.

You checked up on the girls as you heard Admiral Simpson bid his sons goodnight. They were still peacefully unaware of the terrible battle that had occurred right outside their bedroom door, and it was all for the best, they may have been little but they seemed to run on duracell batteries whenever chaos was being stirred.

“I think we’re good,” You said, walking back into the kitchen to find your boss already sweeping popcorn into a bin bag, “We’ll need to mop, I had butter on mine,” You added.

Cyclone grimaced, “I don’t know how you can eat that stuff.”

“I don’t know why you hate it so much, it’s really good,” you said smiling.

He rolled his eyes at you, “It’s greasy, and it makes your fingers dirty.”

You let out a laugh before firing back, “Oh, right, I’m sorry. I forgot I was talking to the man who eats cheetos with chopsticks.”

“I should never have told you that,” He sighed, “So, I heard you visited Texas with Seresin.”

“Yeah, we went for Thanksgiving,” you said, feeling like you needed to be a little more guarded.

Cyclone hummed, “Peter was sad to hear you wouldn’t be joining us this year. I think he has a crush,” He smirked, then after a moment, he grew serious again, “Is he treating you right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, he’s really nice.”

“Okay, but he’s not --” Cyclone rubbed his nose like he did whenever he was about to ask something he was dreading the answer to. You had seen it happen enough times with Maverick to recognise it before he even moved his hand, “He’s not pressuring you into --”

Scrunching your nose, you looked at him, “Ew.”

“I’m just saying, I know his reputation. I want to make sure, Y/n, that you are safe,” Cyclone said, letting out a deep breath.

You gave him a look that said you did not want to be doing this, “I am not having this conversation with my boss.”

He rolled his eyes at you, “You called me Dad last week.”

“I hate you so much,” You said and Admiral Simpson laughed.

“He doesn’t pressure me into anything. He’s been really good to me, his family were a little… cold.. At first but after a day or two they were really nice,” you said finally.

“That’s good,” Cyclone said, “Get started on the mop, would you?”

Giving him your best sassy voice you asked, “Why, is it because I’m a girl?”

He let out a sigh, “Do as you’re told.”

“Urgh!” You exclaimed in mock annoyance, “Yes, Dad!”

As you started to mop, he interrupted you again, “You know you can come to us if there’s ever a problem, right?”

“I know,” you said quietly.

“No, I mean it. You stopped being a babysitter and started being a family member roughly two weeks after we hired you. If there is ever a problem, with anything and with anyone, you can come to us. We will help,” he said, moving a bit closer to you.

You laughed a little, “Even stupid things?”

“Even stupid things,” he confirmed.

“Okay,” you said with a wide smile.

Cyclone gave you a stern look before asking, “Like how stupid are we thinking?”

“I’m scared to call the dentist. They freak me out,” you said quietly.

It was his turn to let out a small laugh this time, “Name and number, I’ll do it for you.”

The air turned more serious when you asked your next question, “What’s it like having a dad?”

“I wouldn’t know,” He replied, looking past you into something you couldn’t see, “But I can tell you what it was like knowing your dad.”

Your eyes opened wide before you responded, “No, I know what he was like. Annie and Audrey told me about him --”

“They can’t get close to the full picture,” Cyclone motioned for you to sit down on the sofa, “I was truly honoured to know your dad as a friend and a mentor before he passed, but I truly learned to respect him when I saw him with his children. I knew my father for all of five years before he left us for another family we didn’t know about. In that time, he managed to beat me half to death twice. He screamed, shouted and threw punches wherever his football team lost. He was my own personal Hell.”

“And then I met your Dad. He was so kind, so gentle with me and he went above and beyond for me. He was my Youth Minister for two years before we moved, Y/n, but I never lost contact. He wrote to me every week and called the house phone every holiday to make sure I was okay. I went to him for everything. Hell, he taught me how to shave, he taught me how to drive. He taught me how to talk to God, like, really talk to him. Not recite the ‘Our Father’ and call it good for the day.”

“When I moved, I left the church, I was hurt and I wanted to hurt someone in return. So, I went for the safest option, I renounced the Lord because I knew I would be forgiven. I swore I didn’t believe in him and I took every chance I got to throw punches at him. I wanted to hurt Him, I wanted Him to bleed. But every time I wrote to your father, every favour I asked, every phone call, I got pulled back a little closer. And it got to the point where I didn’t know if I believed in the Lord, but I believed in your father. And I figured that maybe Jesus was real, because there was no way a human poured this much good into Craig. Everything he did he did with love. Even picking up a stray kid on some church steps. He treated me the same way he treated your sisters and the same way he would have treated you.”

“Okay,” You tried to control the tears that were now pouring freely from your eyes, “Because everything you’ve described, you have done for me. And I’m trying to figure out if I’m joking when I call you Dad.”

You tried to remember your childhood. There hadn’t been many moments of parental guidance. Annie had taken the brunt of the childcare as the eldest daughter and Audrey had helped where she could. Still there hadn’t been much a six year old could do when your mother had withdrawn and refused to even look at you. Beau Simpson, your father’s WSO from before he left the Navy, had come to visit when you were still a newborn. He had held you close to his chest, fed you, bathed you and dressed you every day of his two week stay. He had played with your sisters, taken them shopping, made them visit the zoo and actually made sure both of them attended school. When he had eventually returned to the Navy he had been just as heartbroken as your family had been. He returned every weekend, making sure you were fed, bathed and your nappies changed for at least two days of the week. It broke his heart, you knew, but it was the best he could do.

Then, when you were old enough, he walked you to the nursery and immediately fell head over heels in love with the new trainee. Elisabeth had been twenty years old to his twenty five and she hadn’t been impressed one bit. In her defence, she believed him to be your father and would only correct her assumption after she had given him a piece of her mind at the very top of her voice for an hour straight on a random Saturday morning at the farmer’s market. Once she figured out he was merely a friend of your father’s she had agreed to a date and soon after, they married. You were a flower girl at their wedding, and so were your sisters, looking put together and clean on a Wednesday for almost the first time in your three years of life. You had slipped up and called him Daddy then. After seeing your mother’s face you hadn’t done it again for the following twenty-two years.

Grandma moved to the US when you were five after having spent the previous years with her other daughter after her divorce. She had pretty much taken over right then, but you had still called Beau whenever there had been something major. You didn’t call as often as you wanted, and picked up whenever he called even less, especially since your mother made sure to let you know, although never with her words, that he only did it under obligation, not because he cared.

“Oh, Heavens Above,” Cyclone said, bawling his eyes out next to you, “Come, hug me.”

You were starting to think that maybe your mother had been wrong.

—

You and Jake had decided to join the rest of the team at the bar for Saturday night pool and karaoke. While you had been sticking to hanging with Bobby, the loud crowd a little too much for your quieter tastes. Jake, knowing this, had told you to have fun with Bob, giving you a kiss on the cheek and a whispered, “Put your drinks on my tab,” before making his way over to the pool table.

You had always enjoyed Bob’s company and tonight was no different. Your conversation had been flowing smoothly, the two of you discussing the holiday season coming up and the plans that you had made with family and friends.

“I’m not looking forward to going home,” he said, swirling his water around in his cup.

You gave him a funny look, “Why not?”

Bob let out a sigh before answering, “My dad is a bit of a hard ass, the holidays are never really fun for me.”

Nodding, you set a comforting hand on his arm, “Maybe things will be different this year?”

“Nah,” Bob said, turning to look at you, “He hasn’t changed in twenty-five years and he won't change now.”

It made you sad to think that Bob had never had a fun Christmas. You knew that not everyone’s experiences were the same, but you couldn’t understand how a parent could ruin such a fun holiday for their child. After a moment of sullen silence, his voice interrupted your thoughts, ”Enough about me, what are you and Jake doing for Christmas?” he asked.

“We are planning on going back to Texas. My sisters always have holiday plans around this time of year to see my aunt in Italy so I figured it would be good to spend the time with him instead,” you said, your voice a little sad.

Bob nodded, “Yeah, missing family is hard this time of year. My grandma was my favourite person to be around at Christmas. As tough as my dad is to deal with, she used to say, ‘Don’t mind him Bobby, I brought him into this world, and I can take him out of it,’” he said with a laugh.

You smiled at him encouragingly, “My grandma was my favourite too,” you agreed, but didn’t elaborate any further. At that moment you looked up, your eyes finding Jake at the pool table. There were some new Top Gun recruits in town and he had been hustling them, per his usual. Like he felt your gaze on him, he looked up, catching your eye before sending you a wink.

A blush spread over your cheeks before you turned to Penny, motioning for another round of your new go to drink, Sex On The Beach. Turning back to Bob, you asked, “You have any new year’s resolutions Bobby?”

He looked at you, “I’d like to find a girl this year,” he said quietly, “That’s been my resolution for a few years now, but it was not the right time I guess.”

“I’m sure she is out there Bob,” you said, “Don’t stop looking, the Lord will send someone your way.”

“I know,” he said back, a disappointed sigh passing through his lips, “Sometimes I just wonder how long I’m gonna’ wait.”

You just nodded along with him, “I used to think the same thing, but then I left my chapel veil with Jake at church,” you said, looking up at Jake again. You felt your heart clench in your chest at the sight in front of you. A beautiful woman was standing in front of Jake, her long auburn locks much different than your own sometimes frizzy mop, and she looked like a model, all thin curves and delicate features.

The conversation seemed somewhat one sided, with Jake playing pool and all, but that didn’t stop her from checking out his form when he bent over the table. You couldn’t deny that he looked good in his black t-shirt and original Levi jeans, but that didn’t mean you were okay with this woman ogoling him.

As he stood back up, leaning slightly on his pool cue, she placed a hand on his arm, and Jake didn’t remove it right away. You weren’t an insecure person by any means, but you knew Jake’s reputation on base and in the area, and you had hoped that he was really committed to changing for you.

Thinking about the events of the last week, you felt your heart start to beat harder in your chest. Jake had been withdrawn from you. He hadn’t pressed his usual kiss to your cheek during mass, he didn’t text or call as much as he usually did, and he had forgotten your movie night all together a few nights prior. His excuse had been that he was busy and had forgotten, and while you were hurt, you understood, telling him that it was alright before watching the movie on your own.

As your mind started rushing with the thoughts that maybe he was regretting making his commitment to you, to taking it slow. Maybe he was seeing someone on the side that could give him what he wanted. Turning to Bob, who was sitting in a comfortable silence with you, you said, “I’ll be right back,” before heading in the direction of the bathroom. As you got there, you looked around the bar to make sure no one was watching you before turning and making your way outside. The ocean air blew over your face, and a few tears escaped your eyes at the thought that Jake had actually been talking to that woman.

Deciding that a walk would be good for you, you sent him a text, ‘Don’t feel good. Going home.’ You turned your phone on silent, tucking it into the small clutch you had brought for the night before making your way in the direction of your apartment.

—

Jake didn’t know what else he could do to get this woman away from him. Ever since he had started seeing you he hadn’t looked at another woman, let alone flirt with one. He had been doing his best to ignore her obnoxious attempts to get his attention by trying to focus on the game of pool he was currently winning.

As he stood back up, leaning into his cue to try and determine how he would take the next shot, he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to the owner of the hand with a smile, expecting it to be you, but when it wasn’t, he brushed it off quickly.

“Listen honey, I’m sure you are a real good time,” he started, “But I have a girlfriend, and I will not be cheating on her.”

“You Navy boys are all the same, you have girls at home, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Unlike the rest of the Navy boys, my girl is here,” he said, turning to look at the bar where you had been sitting all night. The seat next to Bob was gone, and he was shooting a look that said trouble. Jake quickly bowed out of the game, handing his pool cue off to the nearest person at the table before making his way across the bar with urgency.

“Where is she?” he asked Bob as soon as he reached the bar.

“I don’t know, she said that she was going to the bathroom a few minutes ago and she didn’t come back, I thought that she might have gone to find you,” he said, his eyes growing wide, “She only had one drink and I’ve been with her the whole time so she isn’t anywhere close to being drunk.”

Jake just nodded, a bit of the panic that had flared in his chest calming at the thought that you had your wits about you. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he saw that you had texted him, ‘Don’t feel good. Going home.’

Why wouldn’t you have said anything to him? He would have been happy to call it a night and drive you back to your apartment. Pressing call on your contact, he brought the phone up to his ear, his heart in his throat as it rang through to voicemail. He called again and again, until finally, on the fourth call you picked up.

“Hello?” he heard your voice come over the line.

Jake let out a sigh of relief, “Baby, where are you?”

“I just got home,” you said quietly, something in the tone of your voice making Jake think that something was wrong.

He made his way to the door of the bar, the rowdy crowd making it hard to hear your soft voice, “What’s wrong? I would have gladly taken you home if you didn’t feel good,” he said, trying to replay the night in his head and figure out what he did wrong.

“It’s okay, I can take care of myself,” you said and Jake didn’t think he had ever heard your voice sound more cold.

“What did I do?” he tried again, “I know that I did something.”

He heard you sigh before saying, “I don’t know Jake, maybe you should ask the redhead at the bar, I’m sure she can tell you.”

With that the line went dead.

Jake cussed, almost throwing his phone across the parking lot. He had brushed her off, but maybe you hadn’t seen that. It was his own fault, thinking back on how the past week looked, he knew what you were thinking. He figured that if he gave you some time to cool down that maybe he would be able to talk you out of leaving him, you were the air that he needed to breathe.

He turned to go back into the bar. Bob was sitting in the same place that he left him, so Jake headed over. Taking the seat that you had occupied earlier, he looked at Penny, “Two shots of whiskey, Penny-dear, and leave the bottle?” he asked.

She gave him and Bob a look before pouring two shots of Jack Daniels and leaving the bottle on the counter in front of them. Jake pounded the first shot before looking over to Bob, “I don’t suppose that you are going to drink with me then?”

Bob just shook his head, “You know me Jake, only water for this stealth pilot.”

Jake threw back the second shot before pouring himself two more, a million-mile gaze set across the bar, “She’s going to leave me Bobby.”

“What did you do this time?” he asked, “She was just talking about how much she loved you, how the Lord sent you to her, before she left.”

“I haven’t told her why this time of year is hard for me,” Jake said in reply, the third shot halfway to his mouth, “Ya’ see Bobby, I’m a murderer,” he finished quietly, shooting his third shot in as many minutes.

Jake saw Bob’s eyebrows shoot up from the corner of his eye, “What do you mean?”

“Five years ago this week, I killed a pilot and his WSO,” Jake said, his voice cold and detached sounding, even to himself, “Sure they were on the wrong side of enemy lines in some Korean War era piece of shit, but I still killed them.”

Bob just sat there staring, Jake knew what he was thinking, how could the big bad Hangman, the one who bragged about his air combat kill the most, actually be ashamed of it. Jake hadn’t even been able to tell his family about it, he didn’t want to see their eyes change once they knew that he was a killer.

“That’s not your fault man, you were just doing your job,” Bob said, trying to reassure him.

Jake shot back the fourth whiskey before answering, “Yeah, but so were the Nazi’s. It doesn’t make it right. It’s written right there as the sixth commandment, thou shall not kill…”

They sat in silence as Jake filled the glasses again, he raised the fifth shot to his lips before looking at Bob, “Do you think I’m going to hell?”

Bob just shook his head, “I think that if you do your best to seek forgiveness for what you’ve done, then you’ve got just as much of a chance of being saved as the rest of us.”

Jake hung his head, the sixth shot gripped loosely in his hand, “I don’t know if I can tell her this,” he said quietly, “What if she doesn’t want me? I’m just damaged goods.”

Bob’s hand came out to rest on Jake’s shoulder, making him lift his head to look over at the WSO, “She loves you, I don’t think there is anything you could do that would make her change her mind about that. You just need to tell her the truth.”

At that Jake let out a laugh, “The truth about what? About how every Christmas I sit there with my own family wondering if some kid is going to wake up without their father? About how, when I almost lost her, I imagined what it must have felt like for those men’s wives that the loves of their lives were taken from them?”

Jake was on the verge of tears now, whether they were angry or sad he wasn’t sure but he could feel his chin wobbling. Raising the sixth shot to his lips, he poured it into his mouth, not even flinching at the burn as it travelled down his throat.

He slammed the glass face down on the bar, waving Penny over, he pulled out his card, “Thanks Penny, I’ll close it out now,” he said quietly, handing her back a now half empty bottle.

“Anytime Hangman, you go get her, she is good for you,” Penny said, handing his card back to him before turning away and serving another patron.

Bob helped Jake out of his chair, and through the door, “Give me your keys man, I can’t let you drive like this.”

Jake pulled out the keys to his truck, handing them over to Bob. As they made their way out of the bar and into the parking lot, Jake stumbled, managing to catch his balance at the last moment. Bob got him into the truck and started to drive them back to Jake’s apartment. Jake didn’t want to go back there, a place filled with memories of her. Her food in the fridge, and her scarf on the end of the couch, the one she had left in his truck a few weeks ago that he hadn’t given back yet because it still smelled like her.

“Can we go to the church?” Jake asked quietly, “I just can’t go home yet.”

“Yeah,” Bob said, “We can go to the church.”

—

Jake made Bob wait outside as he kneeled down in front of the stairs to the altar. He bowed his head, unsure of what to say. How do you ask God to forgive you for killing someone else? The whiskey from earlier had started to kick in in full force and Jake was feeling particularly emotional, the tears that he had managed to hold back at the bar, were now streaming slowly down his face.

Suddenly the shrill ringing of his phone broke him out of his stupor. He brought it to his face, your contact picture swimming in front of his eyes. Jake clumsily swiped the call button to answer, “Hello?” his voice sounded slurred and rough.

“Jake?” he heard you ask, “Where are you? Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“‘M at church,” he said as best he could, “Bobs ‘ere with me.”

“How much have you had to drink?” you demanded.

“‘Nuff,” he said back, not quite remembering how many shots it was that he took.

A sigh filtered through the line, “Why are you at church?”

“Askin’ for forgivin’,” Jake said, his voice quiet now.

“Have Bob take you home, I’ll meet you there okay?” he heard you say, your voice filled with worry.

“M’kay,” Jake said, struggling to pick himself up from the floor of the church. When he couldn’t get up, the room beginning to spin, he said, “Think I’m gon’ stay right ‘ere.”

He heard your voice but couldn’t find it in him to respond, the ceiling of the church never looked so beautiful as it did right now, swimming in front of his eyes. A hand on his shoulder startled him, and Bob’s face came into view, he was talking to someone on the phone, “Yeah, he’s here. I’ll call Rooster and have him help me out.”

Jake wasn’t sure how much time had passed between Bob trying to help him into a pew and Rooster walking in the back of the church, but it felt like a few minutes.

“What’s going on?” he heard Bradshaw ask.

Bob sighed, “He’s drunk and I can’t get him in the car myself. It’s all that damn muscle, guy is heavy.”

Rooster let out a laugh, “I gotcha’ Bob, let’s get him out there.”

With a man under each arm, Jake was carried out to the truck and forced into the passenger’s seat. Bob spoke to Rooster another minute before climbing into the driver’s seat and beginning the familiar drive home.

—

Jake must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, it was morning, and he had a pounding headache. He cracked his eyes open finding himself in his bedroom with no memory as to how he got there. He thanked God that the curtains were pulled shut and that no excess light was coming into the room. On his nightstand was a glass of water and a few Tylenol, he took the pills and chugged the water down in one go.

As much as Jake wanted to roll over and go back to bed, he had to talk to you, and his phone was nowhere to be found. He sat up holding his head tenderly, maybe talking to you could wait until he could gather his thoughts for longer than a second between the pounding that was going on inside his head. Laying back down, he waited for the Tylenol to kick in.

When his head started to feel better, Jake sat up carefully again and threw his legs over the side of the bed. His stomach dropped, why was he in his boxers? He turned quickly to see the rest of the bed, there wasn’t anyone in it with him, and the sheets didn’t look any more rumpled than usual. He prayed to God that he hadn’t done anything irreversible last night. Standing up, he decided that the first thing he needed was to find his phone and call you.

He was confused when he got to his bedroom door, the sound of music graced his ears, Forest Blakk’s If You Love Her filtered through the door. There was only one person who would be in his apartment at this hour so without a second thought, he opened the door and went in search of you.

—

You had helped Rooster and Bob carry a sleeping Jake into the house the night before. They had laid him down in bed and you had followed them out, thanking them for their help and making sure that Jake’s truck was locked before closing and locking the door of his apartment.

Making your way back into the bedroom you watched the sleeping aviator. He looked so relaxed and carefree when he was asleep. Running a hand through his hair, you proceeded to undress him down to his underwear. It made you uncomfortable, but at least he would sleep comfortably tonight.

You kneeled down next to the bed, saying a quick Our Father before asking God to watch over Jake tonight, and help his hangover in the morning. You also asked for him to help guide your actions tomorrow, to give you the patience to listen to him. When you said Amen, you stood up, gathering his phone and some clothes for you to sleep in for the night, the same t-shirt and shorts that he had loaned you the first time he brought you here.

You laid on the couch that night, trying to sleep, but all you could seem to do was worry over the man in the other room. Eventually, as dawn started to kiss the skyline, your eyes fell closed, and you fell into a fitful sleep full of redheaded women and drunken pilots.

A dream of Jake and the woman from the bar startled you awake a few hours after you had drifted off to sleep. Unable to burn the image of them kissing from your mind, you got up from the couch and made a cup of coffee. Digging in the cabinet under Jake’s kitchen sink, you pulled out some cleaning supplies and began deep cleaning his apartment.

You were always a busy body and having something to do helped you to try and keep your anxious mind from dwelling on something that hadn’t happened. You had cleaned every available room and surface as well as prepared something to eat since it was now a more reasonable hour to be up. You put on some music about an hour ago, hoping that maybe it would wake Jake up so that the two of you could talk. The beginning of Dave Barnes’ God Gave Me You came through the speaker Jake kept on his kitchen counter and you swayed slowly from your spot at the sink.

Between the water running, the music, and washing dishes, you hadn’t managed to hear Jake come out of the bedroom. So when his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, you yelped, “Jake!”

The man in question had burrowed his head into your shoulder, his voice muffled by your hair, “Was about to call you,” he said gruffly, his morning stubble scratching your neck slightly, “I like you in my clothes.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, still upset with him for what happened the night before.

Jake swayed with you for a minute, just listening to the song. You could feel the heat of his chest pressed to your back and you knew that he hadn’t gotten dressed when he woke up, probably not expecting you to be there.

You felt him move behind you, his head coming up so that his lips were next to your ear, “I don’t know what you saw last night, but I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since we started seeing one another, and I would never betray your trust. I told her proudly about how my girlfriend was sitting in the bar, but when I turned to you, you were gone.”

You stood silently for a minute, taking in what he said to you. You trusted Jake and you wanted to believe that he wouldn’t cheat on you, but you needed to know about what else happened during the rest of the week, “Why have you been so withdrawn? I thought that if I gave you time you’d come to me with it, but you didn’t.”

You felt him sigh, letting go of you. When you turned to face him, he was leaned against the other counter, his arms crossed over his bare chest. The look on his face told you that this was something serious.

“Five years ago, this week, I got my air combat kill,” he said quietly, so quietly that you had to step closer to be sure that you could hear him. “I…” he started, trailing off as he looked at you, worry in his eyes.

Stepping closer to him, you cupped his cheek with your palm, “Whatever you’re worried about telling me, don’t be.”

You were surprised to find his eyes a bit misty, his chin wobbled before he cleared his throat, “I just - I feel like a murderer. I broke one of the ten commandments, thou shall not kill, and I just don’t know how to live with myself sometimes,” he said quietly.

You had tears in your own eyes now, Jacob Seresin was a strong man and to see him standing in his kitchen, looking so small and sad, it broke your heart. You pulled him to you and he immediately rested his head on your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. Rubbing his head with your hand, you held him as a few tears fell from your own eyes, you could feel the shoulder of the shirt you were wearing now a little damp.

Desperately digging through your mind for some kind of guidance from the bible suddenly you remembered John 1:9, “The bible says, ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness,’” you said into his ear.

You felt Jake’s form shake at that, a broken breath rattled through him, and he clutched you tighter to him. The misunderstanding from the night before faded quickly from your mind. When you felt him start to let you go, you quit rubbing his head. He looked at you with such reverence in his eyes, before he asked, “What did I do to deserve you?”

You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you said the first thing that came to mind, “Dance with me?”

The two of you danced around the kitchen slowly to the song coming out of the speaker, Zach Bryan’s Snow felt fitting for the moment. As Jake guided you around the kitchen slowly, you tried to think of what to say to him.

When the song ended, the playlist over, you leaned into him, and you said, “Don’t ever be worried to tell me things, there is nothing you could say that would change my mind about you,” then you kissed him.

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #fanfiction #hangman x reader #original fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman top gun

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mxvladdy · 4 years

Note

What do you think would happen if MC (in an attempt to keep it away from him) tucked Goldie under their boob?

[A bra is the best wallet but underneath even a C-cup boob is damn near Fort Knox (or the tower of London, I.e. Impenatrable fortresses)]

lmaooo. Let’s us gather round and pray for Mammon’s remaining sanity. What little remands. The himbo never saw it coming. I’m weak and got a little spicy at the end, apologies if that’s not what you wanted my heart was thirsty for ONE greed man;.;

A/N I originally called this work Tiity prison bc I have a sense of humor lol.

Hope ya like!

To say he is conflicted is an understatement. Depending on when and where you do the titty lockdown will change how he reacts.

If it's at school, he is a mess. I’m talking about the works. He’s red in the face, can’t focus, and sweating the whole rest of the school day. He is definitely torn between fighting his goldie withdrawals and making a pass at your chest.

He won’t do the latter, as much as he threatens it. He may be scummy but he has a code of conduct (most of the time). You get a kick out of watching him try not to stare at your chest and getting smacked by Lucifer when caught.

If it’s on Lucifer’s orders to keep his card away from him he’ll have a bit more control but will bitch the WHOLE day. Honestly, you might give it back just to shut him up.

He won’t outright grab your chest or physically try to snatch it. He’ll try to be sneaky about it. Dropping stuff and making you bend over to grab it. “I swear I ain’t try nothin’”. Right.

If desperate enough he’ll just downright pick you up off your feet and jiggle you like a piggy bank. Like I said, he has a code of conduct. It’s just kinda flexible sometimes.

“C-come on! Give ‘er back.” Mammon pleads, pulling off his classic bagger’s pout. Good thing you were immune. His toned arms cage you in, your back resting on one of the school’s marble walls. “How am I going to buy lunch?”

“I made you lunch.” You laugh. Ducking under his arms you make your way to the dining hall ignoring his flustered shouts. He’ll follow soon enough. The promise of your cooking and potentially nabbing goldie back was too great for him to ignore. Sure enough, he slinks in a few minutes after you. His shades now out and perched on his nose. Even hidden under the tinted glasses, you could see his flushed cheeks and darting eyes. “Better eat now, Beel is going to join us today.” You say around a mouthful of food. He whines but forces himself to focus on his quickly cooling food.

He follows you even closer than before after lunch, barely a hair’s breadth from your back. His clever fingers pinching and pulling at the bottom of your shirt in the crowded hallway. “Please~” He whimpers through his teeth after your swat his hands away again. “I swear I won’t use her.”

You plop down at your desk. “If you’re not going to use her, then she is safe where she is.” You stick your tongue out and give the boob hiding goldie a lovely squeeze. Mammon groans as if stabbed, teeth bared and fangs growing in a mix of frustration and want. “Babe come on. Ya’ killing me.” His eyes are glued to where your hand rests.

Before you can respond a leather-clad hand smacks Mammon across the back of his head. Mammon yips in fright. “I will kill you first if you don’t keep your eyes up at the board.” The cold warning from Lucifer was enough to shut you both up for the rest of the class. You watch him disappear when the bell chimes. His next period was across campus while you were stuck here for another hour. Your phone buzzes the moment his designer boots disappear out the door.

Pretty Boy: what did you do to Mammon?

You: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

You catch Asmo’s eye from his seat a few rows back from you. He winks at you, thumbs flying across his lit screen.

Pretty Boy: Bull- tell me your secrets. I haven’t seen him that flustered in eons, not since Helen paid a visit.

You: Got “asked” by Lucifer to keep Goldie away from Mammon for the day. A limited edition car he wants just got released. Luci is still paying off Mammon’s last shopping spree, so he’s on ice till tomorrow afternoon.

Pretty Boy: Ouch- you not telling him where it is?

You: Oh no. He knows exactly where it is. He is just too nervous to go for it.

You hear Asmo’s scandalous gasp behind you earning you both a glare from the professor. You bite your tongue to hide a chuckle. The professor turns with a huff, and Asmo starts up all over again.

Pretty Boy: Is it in your pants! Can I take a look ;*

You: No and No.

Pretty Boy: Ah- he was always a chest man. Good luck with that, he can hold out for only so long :)

What does that mean? You whip your head around waiting for an explanation text. Asmo has the gall to ignore you, busy reapplying his lip gloss. Even if he wasn’t looking at you, you knew that impish smile was for you. Turning back around in your seat you shiver, now you weren’t sure if you should be scared or excited.

The rest of the day passes quietly. Too quietly. It gives you the jitters. Every corner of the school could be a potential hiding spot for one conniving demon. You weren’t expecting him to attack you, not outright. Yet, you were expecting some sort of retaliation. The last bell of the day came sooner than you expected and it was time for afterschool activities. Packing your bag you wave off Beel and Satan, assuring them you would be fine to walk to the music and arts wing by yourself. They had their own clubs to get to anyway.

Making your way to your activity you feel the hair on the back of your neck began to rise. Something wasn’t sitting right with you. You look up and around. No one was in the corridors, not even a stray teacher rushing to the breakroom. Odd. You peak over your shoulder and frown. Even the air was still. Chalking it up to a probably very haunted school, you pick up the pace. Even if you didn’t believe in the ghost stories like Luke, it was best to just never find out. No matter what hallway you took or how fast you walked the feeling of being watched only intensified. Your flight or fight instinct kicked in.

Who could you call if you need help? Where in the hells was Mam- was that your pencil case? You skid to a halt bemused. There, in the middle of the floor was your favorite case. The calico kitty design stares up at you innocently from the floor. You open your bag to double-check. You could have sworn you had thrown it in there after last period. Did it fall out? Had you taken this path before? You approached it cautiously, bending down to grab it.

Strong arms wrap around your waist locking around you like a spring trap. They lift you up and up and up. It was so sudden you could do nothing but squeak in surprise, pencil case clutched tightly to your chest. Were you really going to die here? Caught in such a childish trap...wait. “Seriously Mammon!” The fear disappears, replaced now with exasperation. He grunts ignoring your words to shake you slightly. You yelp feeling goldie and your bra shift. “Oh, my Gods. Mammon! I know you can do better than this.”

“Shut up! I’m desperate.”

Unbelievable. "That's the best you got? Really, I’m kinda insulted." Mammon stops shaking you, his arms loosening enough for you to turn around to face him. He looks up at you batting his long lashes. “Put me down.” It wasn’t a pact order, but firm. He pouts but sets you back on the ground gently. Not before giving you a hearty squeeze. You catch his hand sneaking up the side of your shirt with a raised brow. "Why didn't you just make a grab for it in the first place?"

He scoffs turning pink. "'M allowed ta just cop a feel whenever I want now?"

"Absolutely not, not in public at least. I like you breathing."

“Could have fooled me,” Mammon chuckles. He glances around the empty hallway then back to you. A slow rolling purr starts deep in his throat. "Though, there is no one here now." Slowly his dexterous fingers glide back over your sides. His touch is searing on your shirt. You could feel goldie pulsing underneath the cotton of your bra. The plastic seemingly growing warmer than your skin as his hand travels closer. You do nothing, watching his face grow hungrier with each passing centimeter as he gets close to his prize. “What’s stopping me now?”

“Just you.” He stops at the side of your chest, eye wide and greedy. You could feel him trying to temper himself. His adrenaline, fear, lust, and his raw cardinal desire thicking the air around you. It all pulsed red hot in his veins and travels down to yours. He wanted more than just goldie now. His natural magnetism pulling you in closer. You wanted him, you wanted him to just take it- take everything. The pact mark slams shut, its heat snuffed out like a candle. "Mammon?" Had your teasing gone too far?

"Hold tight to her till tonight." He growls tapping your chest possessively. His many gold rings resemble talons as he drags his fingers across the stitching of your school uniform. "I'll come for her tonight," He leans in, smoke and leather clouds your sense. "and I'll be taking a tithe for all the trouble you caused me too." His husky promise sends a shiver down your spine, gut twisting in anticipation. Mammon's bright blue eyes jump over your shoulder, a frown grows on his beautiful face, he could hear footsteps approaching from your club room. Probably the angels looking for you. Brushing his lips across your cheek he parts, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Be ready. You know I always come to collect."

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me headcanons #this was fun lol #requests

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unholyobsessions · 4 years

Text

Story of Another Us

Pairing: Luke Patterson x fem!Reader

Description: After Julie finds a song Luke wrote about you, he reminisces on his moments with you

A/N: The song Luke wrote is Story of Another Us by 5 Seconds of Summer i highly recommend listening to it

Warnings: Cussing

Word count: 1.7k

Part 2

Julie is a curious person by nature, nobody can deny that. So when Luke gave her his journal and told her to look at all the dog eared songs, she couldn’t stop herself from reading them all. When she got to the last song in the journal she hesitated. It was not dog eared and looked to be the newest written. Most words were crossed out and corrections were written between the margins, she turned the page to find the final version of the song, written coherently. She raised her brows at the wet spots that stained some of the words. She read through it, her own eyes tearing up and threatening to smudge the beautiful lyrics composed by her lead guitarist.

The faint pop Julie has grown to recognize startles her. She meets Luke’s eyes and tries to flip the notebook back to another page but he catches sight of it before she can.

He stays quiet for a second and Julie bites her lip in anticipation.

“What is it that you always say Jules? Boundaries?” The look in his eyes is a mixture of anger, betrayal, and pure sadness, and it breaks Julie’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She doesn’t know what else to say and ultimately decides to risk asking the question that is on the forefront of her mind. “Luke, who is the song about?”

He sighs and takes a sit next to her on the bed, there’s no point in lying to her. “My girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Julie asks, both confused and surprised.

“Yeah ex-girlfriend I guess. We uh dated back in the 90s,” a sad smile on his face as he spoke. “She was there the night of the concert but she hated hotdogs so she stayed back with Bobby at the Orpheum. I didn’t want to think about her when we first came back but last week I looked her up and I went to see her. She has a family, married, children everything that we talked about having together.” Tears were falling down his face and Julie wanted nothing more than to be able to hug him.

“I-“ she started but what was she supposed to say? Luke shook his head, not finished talking.

“Her youngest son, his name is-“ he pressed a fist against his mouth, biting back a sob. “She named him Luke.” It’s something that took him by surprise when he heard her call his name. For a second he thought she meant him, but then he saw the cute nine-year-old dashing into the room, smiling brightly at his mother.

“Oh.”

“And I am so happy for her but I just, I guess I finally realized just how much I lost that night.” He finally turned his head and made eye contact with Julie.

“Tell me about her,” she said. Luke’s eyes widened, not expecting that to be her response. He regained his composure and nodded his head, thinking back to the moments you shared together.

. . .

You’re sitting on the couch, waiting for the boys to get back to the studio after playing at the pier for change. You actually had school and therefore could not go and watch them but you have the rest of the day off and decided to spend it with your favorite people.

The loud, excited voice of your boyfriend breaks you from your thoughts. He pushes the door of the garage turned studio open and smiles when he spots you. He rushes to the couch and throws himself on top of you. You grunt and try to push him off, which only causes him to hold you tighter.

“Get off me you doofus. You’re sweaty and gross,” you exclaim. He looks at you in mock hurt and you use his surprise to your advantage and push him off the couch. You sit up and wave at the rest of the guys.

Bobby smiles and shakes his head walking forward to ruffle your hair. Alex and Reggie make it seem like they will throw themselves on top of you too and you scream, raising your arms over your head in defense, making everyone laugh. You stick your tongue out at them and look down at your boyfriend still laying on the floor.

“How was your physics test?” He asks, remembering last night’s mental breakdown about you not understanding anything. He always felt useless in those situations, never having taken physics himself after dropping out, so he couldn’t help you study. He normally just holds you close and hopes you stop crying, because regardless of what Alex says, he would never leave you to cry alone.

“Meh, pretty sure I passed but I never know.” You shrug your shoulders dismissing any thoughts of your grades.

Bobby laughs and points an accusatory finger at you, “You always say that and you always end up being the highest score. Don’t give us that ‘meh’ bullshit.”

You throw a pillow at him but he easily catches it and throws it at Reggie, who gets hit in the head. Reggie complains and both you and Bobby chuckle at his inconvenience.

Luke finally gets up from the floor and sits next to you on the couch, pulling your body to lean against his. You’re used to this proximity, realizing early in your relationship that Luke is a very touchy person and has to have physical contact with someone at all times.

You smile and look up to him, asking how the performance at the pier went. He excitedly goes on about how people complemented them and how he knows that they are on their way to becoming big and you can’t help but agree. If there is one thing you know is that Sunset Curve is on their way to greatness.

. . .

“She believed in me, in all of us. Every second of spare time she had, she spent helping us get gigs. She would even sit on that old coach while we practiced and do her homework.”

Julie smiled at the way his eyes lit up. “She sounds amazing. Though I am surprised she was able to concentrate with you guys playing.”

Luke laughs and shakes his head. “She was not. She would yell at us and blame us if she didn’t do well on a test, but we always convinced her to stay when she tried to leave.”

. . .

You tried to block out the loud playing of instruments as you read Lord of the Flies for your english class. You snap the book shut and let out a frustrated sigh standing up abruptly and making your way out the door.

Luke stops singing and slips his guitar off before rushing over to you.

“Hey where are you going?” Luke asks a little breathless, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his body still full of adrenaline.

“I can’t concentrate,” you reply. “I’m pretty sure I have a test on the first four chapters tomorrow.” You look up to find him pouting adorably at you. You roll your eyes and try to leave again but he grabs your arm.

“We’re almost done. Let us just finish this song and then we were all just going to write. Just don’t leave.” His eyes are pleading with you and you know that you won’t decline. You let him lead you back to the couch and you sit down, reopening your book and trying to finish the chapters assigned.

Five minutes later the guys were all milling on different areas of the studio with a pen and an instrument, working on melodies as Luke works on lyrics on the floor in front of you leaning back against your legs. You run your hand absentmindedly through his hair as the other holds up the book.

The pager clipped to your jeans beeps and you glance down at it, your eyes widening when you see the message. You stand up quickly, dropping your book on Luke’s head in the process. You ignore the calls of pain and protest from your boyfriend as you run out of the shed and into the house. You greet Bobby’s mom and walk to the living room where the landline is at. You dial the number quickly and mumble “pick up” repeatedly under your breath. The club owner picks up and you talk for about fifteen minutes. At the end confirming a gig for Sunset Curve every Saturday this month at one of the hottest clubs in LA.

You scream with joy and run back to the studio yelling for their attention.

“Guess who just booked you guys a gig!” You exclaim, a joyous smile on your lips. The boys all jump up from their places around the room and rush to hug you but you raise your hands stopping them in their tracks. “Sunset Curve will be performing every Saturday this March at The Reserve!”

They all freeze, mouths opening in shock before they tackle you in a hug and jumping around in excitement. Luke pulls you close against him and kisses you desperately, trying to convey every emotion he is feeling at the moment. The guys cheer like they always do whenever Luke kisses you in front of them.

They all give you their thanks and a hug before Luke pulls you back to the couch, picking up his lyric journal and placing your hand back in his hair. The room is still buzzing with excitement but your force yourself to concentrate as you pick your book back up and continued reading.

. . .

Luke looks down at his hands, “She was the love of my life, quite literally, and I guess that now in my death I have to learn to live without her.”

Julie let her hand hover over his and if she concentrated hard enough she swears she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “It’s a beautiful song Luke and she sounds like she loved you very much. Just remember that getting over her doesn’t mean forgetting her.”

Luke smiles at his friend, thankful to have met her and have her be a part of his (after)life. He looks down at his journal, eyes skimming over the song. “Do you think,” he pauses. “Do you think it’s good enough to perform?”

Julie stares him like he’s insane. “Anything you write is good enough to perform, especially this song.” Luke turns away, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Thanks Jules.”

#luke patterson #luke x reader #luke x oc #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie and the himbos #jatp netflix #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfic #alex jatp #reggie jatp #jatp #julie molina

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hartigays · 3 years

Note

Rafebarry from the POV of outsiders like the pouges and kooks who notice their relationship develop<3

doing this one out of order bc it called to me <3 the following povs include: jj, pope, kie, topper, and sarah!

side/minor pairings are jjpope and sarahkie

fic under the cut :-)

the sun is hot on jj’s forehead as he sits in the passenger’s seat of luke’s truck, idling in front of barry’s trailer.

he hates these days. it’s never been jj’s favorite activity, coming along with his dad while he buys drugs with money they should be spending on food.

not to mention, it takes for-fucking-ever. luke tends to get real chatty after his first high of the day, and barry is the type of dealer who’s always just fucked up enough to allow it.

today, however, jj’s forehead is only mildly burnt when luke exits the trailer.

actually, he’s being ushered out by barry, who looks irritated in a way that jj has never seen before. though, to be fair, the only times jj has been around him are when barry’s high or when they’re trying to mutually kick each other’s asses.

luke is grumbling to himself as he climbs into the driver’s seat, fumbling with his keys. obviously already fucked up.

jj eyes him warily, before flickering his gaze back towards the trailer. he’s only a little surprised to see rafe cameron suddenly standing in the doorway with barry, looking like they’re arguing about something.

okay, maybe jj is a lot surprised to see the scene playing out before him. because despite the seemingly heated tone of their conversation, barry has a hand resting on one of rafe’s elbows. it’s almost a tender gesture, and jj has to look away, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding on something.

barry touches rafe the way jj touches pope. and that’s… that’s a bit much to take in, to be honest. because jj sure as hell doesn’t touch pope the way friends are technically supposed to touch each other.

it’s an information overload, and he has no idea what to do with it. jj decides to file the racing thoughts away for later, when he inevitably spills his guts to pope about just exactly what he’s seen at barry’s today.

luke finally gets the truck started, pulling off of barry’s property without even noticing the moment unfolding before them.

jj takes one last look at rafe and barry, crowded in the doorway of the trailer while looking at each other like everything around them has fallen away, like it’s just the two of them left in the world.

interesting.

pope

it’s a sunday afternoon when they come in.

they’re arguing about something, barry looking thrilled by it whereas rafe just looks like he wants to smash his head through the nearest window.

“you ain’t really fished, country club,” pope hears barry saying when they’re close enough, “not til’ you caught a gator.”

pope suppresses a snort. there isn’t a soul in the OBX who’s caught a gator and didn’t come away with a chunk of themselves missing, and typically always empty-handed.

not like he’s going to tell two dickheads like barry or rafe that. if they want to go get chomped to bits by alligators, by all means.

pope is curious about the nature of their relationship, though. it’s interesting, and interesting things never cease to draw him in. (see: jj maybank).

jj had mentioned a few days ago that barry and rafe have seemed… different, recently. ever since then, pope has wondered about it. it’s a curious relationship, so he doesn’t think it’s that weird that he’s been desperately trying to understand it from all angles.

pope also just wants to know if jj is right. if barry and rafe really do have a thing going on. because like he’d told jj, he’ll believe it when he sees it.

it’s not like jj needs to know that he’s been secretly agonizing over it for absolutely no reason for the last three days.

pope stays seated quietly behind the counter, casually flipping through a magazine without really reading it, glancing up every now and then to spy on barry and rafe.

they’re standing by the bait selection, quietly conversing back and forth. pope can’t make out what they’re saying, but based on their expressions, they’re probably just talking about bait.

that is, until rafe passes barry a certain kind of bait with a questioning glance, and barry accepts it with a proud smile. rafe’s cheeks turn bright pink, and when their fingers brush as rafe passes off the bait, his face takes on a nearly scarlet hue.

so, okay, yeah. jj was definitely on the mark. it still makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever, but at the same time, they seem to operate in sync. it’s almost natural, whatever flows between them.

pope watches them walk up to the counter, feigning wariness to hide his curiosity, internally noting that he has a lot of homework to do later.

kie

the wreck is unusually slow tonight. it’s a thursday evening, and usually more patrons show up, pre-gaming their friday night bash with a thursday kickoff.

there are only three families and a few scattered couples seated here and there.

that is, until they walk in.

kie can’t really say that she hasn’t been expecting this. she wishes she could say that, to be quite honest, but jj and pope have made it their personal mission to torment her with information about barry and rafe that she truly never needed or wanted to know.

not that they’re more than likely gay as hell - kiara doesn’t care about that. she’d be a bit of a hypocrite if she did, if she’s being honest. it’s the fact that they’re rafe and barry.

two people who’s fates the cosmos should never have aligned. if what pope and jj say is true, anyway.

somehow, kie hasn’t come up with any reason to doubt it. rafe is crazy, barry is pure chaos in physical form. she imagines they’re like a nuclear bomb waiting to go off, but she also sees how it works.

kie really, really hates that she can see how it works.

there’s another waitress working tonight, and she’s the one to seat the couple. or pair. or whatever they are. kie can’t remember her name - she’s only here for the summer, anyway. nevertheless, she has the inexplicable desire to drag the poor girl away when she attempts to flirt with rafe.

not only because rafe is liable to stab her in a parking lot or something, but also because rafe and barry are clearly on some sort of date.

she doesn’t know why, but after the waitress finally walks away, kiara keeps waiting on bated breath for more people to show up and join rafe and barry’s party. despite the fact that they’ve been seated at a table for two.

no one else shows up.

they spend the evening conversing quietly back and forth, their voices occasionally raising when they get into a little spat about something.

which happens about every ten seconds, if kie has been accurately keeping track.

not that she’s watching them, necessarily. it’s just a bit of a shock, seeing what jj and pope have been telling her for days play out right in front of her, in real time.

they don’t operate like the other couples in the restaurant, that’s for sure. or any sort of couple kie has ever seen before in her entire life. but pope was right, whatever flows between them is freakishly natural.

and that’s why kiara can’t stop watching. she can’t stop honing in on every movement - the way they steadily shift closer throughout the evening, first putting their elbows on the quaint table, scooting them closer and closer until they’re nearly touching, leaning into each other like they’re being pulled together by some magnetic force, unable to stay apart.

it’s like when kie knocks on sarah’s window and watches her come close, pressing into the glass as if she’s being sucked in by some invisible force, the same one that drives sarah across the room towards her, pulling her into her orbit.

kiara shakes her head, trying to shake off the thoughts. she really doesn’t need to be going around equating her relationship with sarah with whatever the fuck is going on between rafe and barry.

whatever it is, though, kie can’t help but note that it’s something light rather than dark. something almost like happiness - something she never actually thought rafe was capable of feeling.

but with the way rafe is looking at barry, their hands now linked together beneath the table where they think no one else can see, kie is starting to rethink just about everything she knows about rafe cameron.

well, maybe not everything. but some things. enough that her head will be full for the foreseeable future. all because of barry and rafe fucking cameron of all people.

what the fuck.

topper

“you’ve been gone for like, weeks, dude,” topper says, eyeing rafe from across the table.

they’re at the figure eight country club, having drinks (on topper, of course) and a light lunch. it’d been topper’s idea. rafe had merely reluctantly agreed, claiming he had nothing else going on today.

he’d sounded almost like he was pouting about something. now that he’s seated across from topper, he can clearly see that rafe is definitely pouting about something.

which isn’t unusual, per se. but it is unusual that rafe isn’t bitching about whatever it is.

to be fair, rafe has been different these days. topper doesn’t really know what’s going on with him at all, their lives having suddenly and unexpectedly diverged for reasons topper still doesn’t understand.

it’s not like rafe was his best friend or anything - the guy’s a dick more often than not. but they had been friends at least, and confided in one another from time to time. guy to guy.

topper still wonders what happened, to this day. he doesn’t think rafe will ever tell him, though. not fully. and that’s okay, topper isn’t, like, desperately interested or anything, but a bit of an explanation would be nice. even a half-assed one.

“i’ve had shit going on,” rafe finally answers, as vague as can be.

topper rolls his eyes. “obviously. come on, man. i just want to know what’s been up with you lately.”

“you mean you want to know what’s been up with sarah,” rafe corrects, taking a long sip of his beer.

and okay, yeah, maybe topper’s desire to get back in touch with rafe has a little something to do with wanting to know what sarah’s been up to. but he does want to know whats been going on with rafe, too. that wasn’t a lie. he’d just omitted some details, sue him.

“yeah, okay,” topper agrees, not bothering with lying. “but i’ve also been wondering about you, man. you just kinda. disappeared.”

rafe picks at his burger, before pushing it away with a sigh. “shit happens, top.”

it’s so far from an explanation that topper kind of wants to throttle him all of a sudden, but rafe doesn’t give him the chance. his phone starts ringing, and he pulls it out with a triumphant smile, like he’s just won something.

something he’s definitely very, very smug about.

topper thinks he hears something along the lines of ‘m fuckin’ outside you little shithead brat coming from the person on the other end of the line.

rafe just smiles wider, putting on an innocent look even though whoever he’s talking to can’t see him. “coming!”

listen. listen. rafe fucking sing-songs it. topper feels like he’s been punched directly in the solar plexus. his mind reels.

topper is nowhere close to catching up, but rafe is already standing up and excusing himself, saying he has somewhere to be and thanking topper for the lunch half-heartedly, not contributing anything towards the bill.

typical rafe.

topper latches onto that familiarity to get his brain working again, shoving himself back from the table and racing out of the club, tossing a few too many bills on the table as he runs out. he practically chases rafe down, tumbling out the front doors as rafe is crossing the parking lot.

rafe comes to a stop next to some guy on a motorcycle, and neither of them have seen topper yet, clearly. because in the next moment rafe is pulling off the guy’s helmet and kissing barry the fucking coke dealer right on the mouth, tongue and all.

topper almost blacks out on the steps.

instead, he steadies himself on the railing of the staircase, shouting across the parking lot, “what the fuck, rafe?”

the reaction topper gets is not the one he was expecting. rafe just grins like a shark, then climbs on the back of barry’s bike. he wraps his arms around barry’s waist, then he taps barry twice, and they’re speeding out of the parking lot.

“we are so fucking talking about this!” topper yells after them, his head still spinning.

the roar of the motorcycle drowns out the noise.

sarah

she isn’t sure what wakes her up at first.

for a moment, sarah thinks kie is at her window. she frowns in confusion, still half-asleep, wondering why kie would be here without texting or calling first.

they always text or call first.

when sarah sits up and looks over at her window, there’s nothing there. but she knows she heard something, something that roused her from her peaceful slumber.

there it is again. it sounds like a squeaking noise, like an old window or a screen door opening. a moment later, quiet voices, drifting through the vent in her bedroom.

sarah wonders if it’s ward, if he’s having some secret meeting that would be truly invaluable to overhear.

she scrambles out of bed, tip-toeing to her air vent and sinking down to her knees. she leans closer, then closer still. all she can here are soft voices - she can’t make out any words. whatever the conversation is about, it’s interspersed with giggles and gasps.

oh. oh my god. ward is cheating, he has to be. and wouldn’t that be such sweet justice? catching ward in the act of something he can’t deny? something that could potentially keep rose from continuing to feed his endless greed?

sarah stands up and races across her room as quietly as she can, poking her head out the door and looking around before creeping into the hallway. she quietly makes her way to ward’s office, stopping just outside and leaning close to listen.

silence.

if they’re done already, that’s pretty pathetic on ward’s part, sarah thinks. but then she hears it again, the soft cacophony of sounds, only louder this time.

sarah follows the noise, her curiosity getting to the better of her. it leads her straight to rafe’s bedroom.

she really should’ve known better than to open the door.

“oh my god! oh my god? oh my god.” sarah slaps her hands over her eyes, already trying to scrub the image of barry on top of her brother from her mind.

she just walked in on rafe. having sex. with barry.

sarah feels a little faint.

“jesus christ, sarah, would you get the fuck out?” sarah hears rafe snap, and she fumbles for the doorknob, slamming the door shut quickly.

she backs away in horror, practically bolting back to her room and flinging herself onto her bed. sarah grabs her phone, firing off a few texts to the group chat.

sarah: SOS!!! walked in on barry and rafe…

sarah: oh god

sarah: i can’t even say it

jj: were they? y’know

jj: like

jj: brokeback mountain style or

pope: jesus christ jj

pope: that’s disgusting

pope: ………

pope: but for real though were they?

john b: i’d also like to know

kie: you know what count me in too

sarah: oh my god.

sarah: i hate all of you.

sarah has the most useless friends on the planet, and the drug dealer is fucking her brother. frankly, she’s had enough for one night.

sarah tosses her phone onto the floor and puts a pillow over her face, drifting back into her blissful state of unconsciousness. she’s not awake to hear rafe and barry start up again.

thank fucking god for small mercies.

#rafebarry #outer banks #pov alternating #anyway i’m really proud of this one soooo i hope u enjoy!!!#mwah thank u for requesting 💓#my fics #ask #anon

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takemealivelh · 3 years

Text

midnight city || gang!luke

gang!luke, rival gangs, mentions of drugs, alcohol and violence. smut. 2k. part 1.

feedback is appreciated

he wiped the blood off his knuckles. the feeling of beating the shit out of someone is a rush of adrenaline. it’s like getting high on coke, but he doesn’t deal with that shit. he’s known many people who do hard drugs and then end up in trouble, or dead. he appreciates his life so much. luke likes being the leader of the diamond forsaken. a mafia that dedicates its time to drug transactions and occasionally prostitution. luke doesn’t fuck with that either, at least not recently. he met this girl in a bar and he’s been thinking about her for over a month. they’ve been on a few dates, and the sex has been great. she has a great sense of humor and he can tell she’s got street smarts, which he likes. he couldn’t fathom the idea of being with someone who gets scared about his job.

“you good, bro?” ashton, luke’s right-hand man, looks over at the bruises and leans against the sink of the bathroom, lighting a joint. their day is done and it’s time to go party. luke beat the shit out of a dude who didn’t give them their money and he threatened to go to the police. there was no way they would let him leave the storage unit without a warning. luke choked the man and broke a few ribs. he’s used to the job. it’s not like he was always like this. he used to have big dreams about forming a band and become a good musician. but he fell into the wrong crowds, and now here he is. dealing drugs and other sketchy businesses. everyone in la who knows about their mafia, knows not to fuck with them. they would end up dead. the police don’t do anything, they know how dangerous they are.

luke dries his hands with a paper towel and runs his fingers through his golden locks. “yeah,” he says. he’s never walked out of a fight with anything more than a few bruises. he does boxing on his free time, so he knows how to throw a lethal punch, and knows how to avoid poor kicks.

“i heard the grey lilies will be there tonight. i swear to fucking god those girls... i would bang every single one of them, but... you know...”

the grey lilies were a girl gang. they dealt drugs, too. that’s why they were a rival to the diamond forsaken. they never got into a physical fight, but there were many times they were about to. having the best clients was a problem for the male gang, but at least they had more people wanting their goods. but still, luke was pissed that they had a quality over quantity problem. he’d grown accustomed to the luxurious lifestyle. a good place to live, the most delicious takeout, and fancy cars.

“for real?” luke looks over at his friend. he hides his excitement. sure, the grey lilies were trouble. but their top dealer, jackie, was the most fascinating creature he’d ever seen. their dates had been fun, exciting, thrilling. the idea of a secret hookup with their enemy was another rush of adrenaline. one that he actually preferred, if he was being honest.

it’d all started at one of the parties. luke knew jackie, or at least he knew her face and what she did for a living. he was jealous she did so good with clients. she was charming as fuck. they didn’t mean to show up at the same place at the same time, but sometimes the gangs coincided. “did you get the dresnners?” she’d asked him as she took a seat on the stool next to him. her caramel-colored hair was in a ponytail and her eyeshadow was pastel blue. she wore ripped jeans, an oversized white t shirt, and high-heeled boots. the look suited her. she looked like the vocalist of an 80s inspired punk band.

luke scoffed. he knew what she meant. they had been fighting over the dressners for weeks and they decided to go with the grey lilies. that night, the diamond forsaken got blackout drunk. “no, but you did.” he finally said, looking down at the glass of vodka in his hand.

“yeah,” she chuckled and ordered a beer. luke had always thought jackie was pretty interesting, but they’d never talked. not much, at least. just a few words here and there, mostly passive-aggressive shit. but the bickering was also part of the job. that night, though, that night neither felt like fighting. they were already buzzed. jackie took a swig of her beer and looked at him. “you wanna go outside? i got a joint. it’s legit shit, this.” she smiled.

it’s not like he frowned, but something among those lines happened. but fuck it, he thought. “sure. lead the way.”

they went to the terrace of the bar and lit up the joint. luke coughed a little and she laughed. “i told you it was legit.”

luke and ashton walk into the club like the kings they are. everyone stops to look at them. but shortly, they resume their activities. which mostly consists of getting drunk and high. the two men make their way towards their usual booth. michael and calum are already there. calum’s with his girl. a black beauty who gives incredible head, his words. luke takes a seat and drinks the beer in front of him, swiftly drifting off the conversation to look around. he hasn’t seen the grey lilies, but he hopes they get here soon. bathroom sex sounds good right now.

“how was the guy?” michael asks as he throws a couple of fries into his mouth. ashton tells him that luke did a good job in silencing the motherfucker. “three ribs? man, that’s dark. but cool.” he laughs.

everyone seems to stop talking again, and luke shifts his gaze towards the door. the grey lilies have arrived. they look like a grunge band. their leader, lea, wears combat boots and net tights. but his eyes are focused on the girl whose moans keeps him up at night. she looks gorgeous in that oversized that jacket that seems to swallow her whole, but still barely covers her ass. he wonders if he looks okay, sexy. he didn’t have time to change, and he hasn’t shaved in a few days. his motorcycle jacket has a few stains, but at least they’re not blood.

jackie finds him staring and she puts on a smirk. she pats the pocket of her jacket to let him know that she’s got weed on her. they rarely ever not get high together. that makes her wonder if this, this between luke and her, is just a side effect of the drug. but she doubts it. she actually likes him, even if she despises his friends. they all seem idiotic to her. luke notices the action of her hand and he immediately looks down at his drink. “imma go to the bathroom.” he announces, even though no one is hearing. they’re too into the story about the miami trip calum and his girl took last weekend.

luke stands up from the booth and snakes through the crowd. he catches a glimpse of jackie, who’s making her way towards her regular booth. “meet me outside in five,” he texts her. he watches her check her phone and smile down at the screen.

“they’re gonna kill us if they see us together,” jackie says as she pulls out the joint from her pocket. she knows the grey lilies hate the diamond forsaken. they think the other gang are all egocentric assholes. she used to think that, too. but she met luke. and he’s actually a sweet guy. he’s really smart, too. the strategy they use to get more clients astounds her. but it’s nice to know that the grey lilies have the better clients.

luke watches her light up the joint and he leans against the wall outside of the club. it’s dark outside and the air is cold. there aren’t many people in the terrace, but he doubts anyone will say anything about them being together. getting high together. “then we’re just gonna have to keep it a secret.” his smile is shy, and jackie thinks he’s the most adorable man. even if he has bruises on his knuckles from probably beating up some shady guy. she passes the joint and luke takes a drag. “you wanna come to my place later? i got some cds i wanna show you.” they’re both big music nerds, and he loves that. they sit on the floor of his room, high out of their minds, and they listen to oasis, jane’s addiction and red hot chili peppers.

“i don’t know. lea wants to do some kind of after party tonight. and i kinda want to be there.”

luke nods his head, he’s sort of disappointed, but it is what it is. he knows the gangs come first. it’s all about loyalty. that’s why he’d be fucked if anyone of the diamond forsaken members came out right now. but he knows they don’t smoke, except for calum occasionally -rarely, actually. so he’s not worried.

“come here,” jackie smiles as she plays with the zipper of his jacket. they’re incredibly close and she can feel the smoke coming out from luke’s mouth. she kisses him softly, licking his bottom lip. with eyes closed, luke feels stars bursting inside his lungs. he really likes her. “give me that,” she orders and he hands her the joint.

they keep smoking until there’s nothing left and they stare into each other’s eyes. jackie isn’t one to maintain eye contact, but she feels safe with luke. even if he’s forbidden fruit.

the men's bathroom is empty. they had to sneak in so the others couldn’t see them. luke made an excuse about going to the bar to get more drinks even if the counter was crammed. jackie said she was going out for a smoke. it’s all hands and sloppy kisses as they lock the door of one of the stalls. luke bites his lower lip as his back is pressed to the white door and jackie drops to her knees. “you gonna make me feel good?”

“imma make you feel so good, baby,” she grins and unzips his pants. he’s already hard from all the making out in the terrace. so it’s not surprise that his cock springs up as soon as his briefs are pulled down to his thighs. jackie licks the tip and he shudders. he’s gotten a fair amount of blowjobs in his life. the first one from one girl that attended his school and she thought he was going to be a musician one day. but nothing compares to jackie’s mouth. her tongue slides down his length and he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. she’s ecstatic that she can make him squirm in front of her. she likes being in control, even if it doesn’t always happen. luke can be pretty dominant in the bedroom. taking her from behind roughly and choking her. jackie puts his cock in her mouth and she starts bobbing her head to the rhythm of the loud bass coming from the other side of the bathroom door. luke appreciates the little detail. his senses are heightened and it feels like she’s one more instrument adding to the song.

“fuck,” he curses under his breath as he feels the tip of his dick hit her throat. she takes him in so good. she’s an angel. luke looks down and he sees her eyes staring up at him, a subtle smirk on her lips. “you’re- you’re-” he’s trying to say something but his brain doesn’t work. the pleasure is too intense. he hits his head against the door and closes his eyes once again. he’s about to cum. exactly at the same time he hears someone come into the bathroom. fuck. “stop, stop,” he whispers to jackie and cups her face to get her off his dick. she looks through the slit of the door and sees someone she recognizes washing their hands.

“shit,” she mouths. “michael.”

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#luke hemmings #luke5sos #5sos #5sos fic #luke hemmings fic #5sos smut #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings imagine

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loveelle · 3 years

Text

Leap of Faith~ Part 10

Luke Patterson x Reggie’s sister!Reader

A/N: Thus wraps up the series! Thank you for all the support and love you’ve given me throughout this, you couldn’t have been a better audience! Please let me know what your thoughts and feel free to drop on by and read some of my other fics if you haven’t. I’m planning a Reggie series that hopefully will be good, ummmm yeah! I can’t say it will be cause i haven’t written yet, but we’ll see! Thank you again for everything and I hope y’all like the ending? Maybe? :)

WC: 5.5K

SERIES MASTER

MASTER

---

“No music is worth making if we’re not making it with you two.” You closed your eyes, letting the feeling of being this close to Luke linger in your mind before you opened your eyes and locked on with his. “No regrets.” He whispered and you nodded, slowly pulling yourself from his grip. Luke grew confused, reaching forward to hold you again.

“Then I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.” Your eyes moved about the three boys and Julie before you were gone.

“Y/N!” Your brother yelled out at your absence, hoping by any chance you didn’t truly leave them before saying goodbye. “Y/N!”

“Reggie.” Alex mumbled out his name, holding his stomach in pain and Reggie’s already tear-filled eyes snapped to his and the tears started falling.

“Where’d she go?” His voice cracked. “She just left- Where’d she go?” No one provided him with an answer. “Luke?”

“I don’t know.” Luke’s eyes hadn’t moved from the very last spot he was able to look into yours, his own tears now springing free.

“Do you think she’s coming back?” Reggie asked despite knowing you wouldn’t. He couldn’t help but hope you would. He was dying and he needed to say goodbye to you. Earlier, he thought he could just leave and you’d never know the difference, but now, he needed to say goodbye to you.

Another round of jolts hit the three ghost boys.

“You’ve got to go!” Julie cried out. She thought she couldn’t handle seeing the boys in such pain with you by her side, but now that you were gone, she had no one to help convince them. The boys laid on the floor, none of them knowing if they were in too much pain to stand or just gave up trying. Julie fell to her knees next to them. “Please, just go to Caleb.”

“I never told Y/N how I felt.” Luke’s eyes were closed as he wiped away the tears quickly, his mind focused solely on you. No regrets, he told you. Well, now he had one. He had no clue where you were or what you were doing and he just wanted you here with him. He wanted to say goodbye. He wanted Reggie to say goodbye, and Alex. He wanted to know that with whatever happened to them, you knew the truth.

Luke’s thoughts of you were interrupted by a feeling inside him. It was much different than the jolts. Instead of bringing them pain and agony, this feeling was nothing but relief and for the first time since Luke was on stage, he felt like he could breathe again.

“What’s happening?” Reggie whispered as Luke opened his eyes, seeing himself as well as his friends glowing. Everyone was silent, tears still falling as they held their breaths.

“I feel stronger.” Luke rose off the floor, looking down at himself as Reggie and Alex stood up with him.

“I don’t feel as weak anymore.” Reggie glanced between his friends with a skip of relief in his voice.

“Me neither.” Alex smiled briefly. “Not that, you know, I was ever weak.” He earned a chuckle out of his friends.

Julie watched on in disbelief. One second ago, they were all dying, and now, out of nowhere, they were strong again. The boys felt the change in their wrists all at once as they held up their arms and pushed their sleeves out of the way, except for Luke. They let out small gasps as the stamp that has caused them so much pain and suffering emitted a light before slowly lifting from their skin into the air. With no information on what was happening, the four of them watched as the stamp fizzled into nothing, right along with Caleb’s control over them.

“What do you think that means?” Julie broke the silence before the boys laughed happily, looking amongst themselves before Julie.

“I think the band’s back.” Luke told her and out of pure happiness, Julie jumped into their arms. Her arms pulled Alex and Reggie into the hug as her body met Luke. The boys didn’t hesitate to hug back, not catching onto the plain and obvious fact that Julie was touching them.

Julie caught on, however. She pulled away, looking at how her hands rested on Reggie and Alex’s shoulders to bring them close. “How can I touch you?” She gasped out, testing to make sure she could feel them under her hands.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we could try that hug thing again?” Alex asked rather blushingly, a way to celebrate not being completely dead from the universe. The other three obliged and dove into another hug full of laughs and smiles until Luke pulled away slowly, breaking the other’s hold on him.

“Luke?” Julie asked after seeing his face fall. “What’s wrong?”

He looked at her before his eyes moved to Reggie. “‘I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.’” He said and the boy furrowed his brows, not catching onto what Luke was talking about. Luke let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s what Y/N said to me before she left.”

“You think my sister had something to do with this?” Luke stayed silent, but Reggie knew what he was thinking. “No. No, she wouldn’t do that.”

“Reggie-“

“No!” He denied again, turning around to face away from the boys and Julie. As he did so, his eyes landed on your jacket once again that you’d taken off in exchange for your new one, draped across the back of the couch. He shook his head and felt tears cloud his eyes again.

“Maybe it wasn’t her.” Alex moved to Reggie, putting a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Reggie turned to him, silently asking him if he believed his words. “Maybe she just left because she couldn’t be here.”

Reggie nodded for a moment before shaking his head. “There’s no way Y/N just left.” Reggie whispered before falling into the chair next to him, feeling Luke’s hand land on his other shoulder. “What did she do?”

Alex looked to Luke, seeing him in a state of deep thinking much like Reggie and while Alex was desperately worried about you, he knew neither boy was alright after your absence and possible connection to them being free. He looked to Julie, hoping she could offer help but as he looked up, his eyes scanned past her to the entrance of the studio.

His heart skipped in his chest. “Willie?” He called out before dropping a hold on Reggie’s shoulder and running to the boy, their bodies colliding together only a second before their arms pulled the other as close as possible.

“You’re okay.” Willie whispered out in thanks as he buried his face in Alex’s shoulder, feeling Alex do the same to him. Willie was the first to pull away, his hand slipping into Alex’s perfectly as he pulled him to where Reggie, Luke, and Julie were. He looked to the girl who looked surprised to see him. “You must be Julie.”

“I am.” She nodded. “You must be Willie, and I’m not even going to question how I can see you right now.”

Willie gulped. “Well, I might have an answer to that.” The four of them furrowed their brows at him. Willie sat Alex down on the couch and sat next to him, Julie and Luke slowly falling into seats as well since Reggie was already sitting, still fretting over you. The skater took a deep breath. “Y/N showed up at the club.” He looked around the room, gaging their reactions as Alex’s grip on his hand tightened. “She made a deal with Caleb.”

Your friends listened to Willie explain everything, from you showing up and demanding to speak to Caleb, to him listening with his ear pressed against the door as you practically gave your soul to him in exchange for the four of them, and to your very first performance at the club, something Willie couldn’t stay for as he ghosted out to find the boys.

“She gave herself up for us?” Luke clarified; his eyes locked on the floor as he imagined you doing exactly what Willie described. He felt sick. You did the very last thing Luke could’ve wanted. He wanted you to be happy and stay with Julie and both of you think the boys crossed over, now Caleb had your soul and forced you to be a part of his band for eternity. “We’ve got to save her.”

“You can’t.” Willie reminded him. “Caleb’s too powerful.”

“There has to be something we can do.” Reggie agreed with Luke. There was no way he was going to leave you, his sister, in the hands of Caleb.

“There’s not.” Willie refused to lift his eyes to look at them. “I’m sorry.” Alex squeezed his hand, but Willie still couldn’t look at him.

“It’s not your fault. And it’s not Y/N’s either, she was just trying to save us.”

Luke’s leg was bouncing as he jumped up and started pacing, finding Alex’s habit very head-clearing. “We can’t just leave her there.” His voice was stressed as he talked through his pain, not the same physical pain from the jolt but a pain in his heart that hurt a hundred times more.

Heads turned at the sound of Ray shouting outside of the studio, probably sticking his head through the gate. He shouted Julie’s name before telling her they were waiting for her to celebrate. Julie’s eyes widened as she remembered she was supposed to celebrate with her family who was oblivious to the situation.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” She shouted back before looking at the boys. “I have to go.” Her stomach fell. “I can’t really tell him my friend who’s been dead for 25 years traded herself to a ghost club to save my band.” She was upset and everyone could see but it wasn’t as if Julie could do much. They didn’t know what she could see or do in the ghost club. She started to stand up before hesitating, putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Get her back.” She told him and he nodded, reaching up to grab her hand briefly before she wiped away her tears, trying to fix herself up before she went inside.

When she was gone, the boys sat in silence for a few seconds before Reggie stood up and took a deep breath. “So, what’s the plan to save my sister?”

---

You weren’t sure if the fatigue you faced as you sat backstage was from the 4 songs you just performed or from trying not to cry, but the longer you sat there, the harder it was to hold back your emotions. You were exhausted as you pulled yourself up, kicking off the heels Caleb put you into and finding a little corner you could collapse on the ground. The moment you hit the ground, you let your sobs rack through you.

You never got to say goodbye to your friends. You just left them there crying. You didn’t even know if Caleb really let them go or if… or if you were too late. You haven’t seen Willie since you asked him to bring you to Caleb and that was the only hope you had.

“Y/N!” You heard Caleb sing out your name, only making you suck in a breath, swiping under your face to see the makeup you were wearing hadn’t smeared. “Y/N!” He called again and you tried to stand up, ignoring the wobble of your legs under you. Caleb came around the corner and your eyes narrowed at the smile on his face. “There you are!”

“What, did I run away before another song could start? My bad.” You started walking away from him, your heels hitting your sides as you carried them, no longer wanting to wear them.

Caleb appeared in front of you with a smirk as you stopped walking and clenched your jaw. He offered a forced laugh and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around. “I was going to show you to your dressing room.”

“How thoughtful of you.” you grumbled as he brought you to a backstage area that resembled the many dressing rooms you’ve been in before. This one had to be one of the nicer ones, you’ll admit that. You let your eyes scan over the room from the vanity in front of you to the line of costumes by the door to the plate of fries that sat on the table. You eyed the plate carefully, wondering why it was there before Caleb laughed quietly at you.

“Try some.” He gestured to the fries before picking one up and eating it himself with satisfaction. You’d forgotten the boys mentioned food here being something ghosts could eat.

“I don’t want any.” You turned your back to Caleb and the food as you walked to the mirror, finally seeing what you looked like after your little transformation.

“Well, I’ll leave you to get comfortable.” He said before heading to the door. He stopped in the door, meeting your gaze as you looked through the mirror. He didn’t say anything, but the smirk on his face was enough and when the door was closed, you allowed yourself to sit in the chair placed perfectly in front of the mirror.

Your eyes drifted across your appearance. The dress that clung to your body enough to look flattering and the makeup that made you look more like a showgirl than a teenager. You didn’t look like you. Pulling open the drawers under the mirror, you found makeup wipes and quickly wiped them across your face, trying your best to get all the makeup off until you could look in the mirror and see yourself. At that point, you needed to get out of this dress. You were going to try and find the most comfortable-looking costume to change, but your eyes landed on a certain outfit hung up that made you knot your brows.

You grabbed it slowly, pulling it out to see a tank top with the Sunset Curve logo printed on the front, a shirt you definitely didn’t own, along with a pair of ripped black jeans. What caused you to pause entirely was your leather jacket sitting on a hanger next to the outfit along with a note from Caleb.

For your comfort. Enjoy.

You scoffed. Sure, you were thankful for the change of clothes, but nothing could make you enjoy this place. Not performing, not a plate of fries or your private dressing room, and definitely not clothes. But it wasn’t like you could back out of the deal.

---

“Let’s just go get her!” Luke held back his shout after the millionth hour of trying to figure out a plan.

The other 3 boys, as well as Julie, groaned at him. “We can’t!” Alex reminded him and Reggie who was nodding his head in agreement with Luke.

“And why not?”

“Because she got the stamp.” Willie mumbled, his head resting back on the couch as he stared up at the ceiling. “If you just take her, the stamp could still-“

“Kill her?” Reggie interrupted with worry and Willie gave him a sad look before nodding. “So, there’s really nothing we can do?” When no one answered him, Reggie knew it was pointless. You were gone. “Can I-“ He stopped himself, glancing at his friends, “Is there a way we could say goodbye? For real?” He asked Willie and the skater thought about, how he would go about it but ultimately, he nodded.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

---

Willie was pacing back and forth in front of the Hollywood Ghost Club, trying to work out the plan in his head. He was just about to head inside before he was stopped by Caleb appearing in front of him.

“Caleb!” He gasped out, jumping backward as the man looked at him unimpressed.

“I believe I let you leave. Why could you possibly be back?” Caleb raised a brow at him and Willie gulped.

“Well, I-“ He cut himself off, the fear of working under Caleb returning and he wanted to poof away. Then he thought of Alex, of how Alex seemed so hopeful to at least see you again and know you were okay and he knew he couldn’t just give up because he was afraid. “It’s about Y/N.”

“What about her?”

“The band wants to say goodbye to her.” Willie held his head up, making Caleb smirk.

“Is that all?” Caleb asked and Willie’s face faltered for a second before he nodded. “No.” Willie’s face fell entirely as Caleb started to turn back to the door.

“5 minutes!” Willie pleaded and Caleb stopped moving. Willie thought he was going to keep walking until his back straightened and he looked over his shoulder at the boy.

---

You were crashed on the couch, staring at the ceiling above you and imagining it was the stars, back to last night when you thought you were saying goodbye to your family, the last time you felt peace. A knock broke through your silence as you groaned and pushed yourself up only to open the door to see Caleb standing there.

“What do you want?” you let him into the room, moving to lean on the wall next to the door.

“I have a surprise.” Caleb smiled at you. “I hope this will help you realize we’re not enemies here.” His hands fell on your shoulders and the smile he offered you unnerved you. You had no clue what he was giving you and that scared you. “You have 5 minutes.” He stepped back, giving you another smile before waving his hand and snapping toward the middle of your room.

Your breath stopped as Reggie, and Alex all appeared out of nowhere. The sound of the door closing as Caleb stepped out knocked you from your frozen stance as you launched yourself into Reggie’s hold.

Tears were already starting down your face as he cradled your head against him, his arms wrapped around you so tight that you were sure you weren’t breathing, but it was fine because technically you were already dead.

“You’re here.” You whispered to him, squeezing him tight to reassure yourself that your brother and the others were really here. “You’re all here.”

“Did you think we were just going to let you leave without saying goodbye?” Alex asked, holding back his cries. You pulled your head up, looking over to him and smiling as your tears fell.

“Where’s Julie?” You knew the answer as soon as you asked it and you shook your head to tell them so. Caleb couldn’t bring Julie in here because she, thankfully, wasn’t a ghost. “I’m really sorry. For everything.” You told them, glancing between Reggie and Alex. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Luke, if you did, you didn’t know what you would say. “I couldn’t let you guys die.”

“So, you gave yourself up to Caleb?” Reggie asked as he pulled back, wiping away the tears on your face and not caring about the ones on his own. You looked into his eyes, feeling your heart sink as you nod.

“I couldn’t let you guys die.” You repeated before Reggie pulled you into his arms again. When he was done, you moved to Alex, seeing him fight the waterworks and he’s no doubt struggling. You spared him, slipping into his hug as he held you quickly, his face buried against your shoulder and you knew he was trying to wipe his eyes behind your back.

You were starting to lose track of the time as you realized you were almost through your time and you couldn’t help the cry that escaped as you looked at the clock. Now it was time for the hardest goodbye, the only person you never got to say everything you’ve wanted to.

Luke stood there as you said goodbye to everyone except him, as you looked at everyone except him, as you spoke to everyone except him and he didn’t know how he held himself together for that long. You were right there in his arms reach and Luke didn’t know what to do or to say.

Your eyes met and the tears Luke had let fall free felt heavy on his cheeks as you stepped closer. Your eyes flickered down to his hands enough for him to bring his to yours. When you felt his touch against your hand, your fingers fell into place between his and Luke and you stepped even closer, the room falling absolute silent. You just stared at each other, no words or goodbyes being said until you threw your arms around his neck and his went around your waist to hold each other close.

You thought you were going to break in your brother’s hold but it was nothing compared to the way you sobbed into Luke’s shoulder, feeling him do the same. It was as if his touch opened the floodgates and there was no way you could close them.

“I’m sorry.” Luke managed to choke out as he buried his face in your shoulder, his eyes closing but doing nothing to stop the tears that slipped past.

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong.” You pulled away to look in his eyes, your hand cupping his cheek softly, your fingers dancing against his skin as Luke shook his head.

“I should have told you something a long time ago.” Your head tilted as you tried to figure out the meaning behind what he was saying, but you didn’t know how much longer you could hold your secrets in for every second the clock ticked behind you, you felt your mind going crazy.

“I have something I need to tell you, too.” You told him and Luke nodded, tightening his grip on your hand.

“C-Can I go first?” He stammered and you gulped before nodding, glancing at the clock before meeting his eyes. When you did, you recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same one you wore when you looked at him.

Luke didn’t say anything. His mouth hung slightly open, but he didn’t know how to express the feelings he held for you. He wanted to listen to Alex and Reggie’s advice and just blurt out ‘I love you’, but it didn’t feel like enough. So, he thought and he remembered a time he truly knew he was in love with you, when the two of you were connected beyond anything he had felt with anyone.

Step into my world, Bittersweet love story ‘bout a girl,

Your breath hitched as Luke started singing, the same song you sang together just days ago. You were so lost in each other that you forgot the rest of the world existed. It was just you two.

Shook me to the core, Voice like an angel, I've never heard before,

Your hand threaded with his again as you stepped back, slowly falling into the trance of Luke and you once again. Reggie, Alex, Caleb, the ghost club; everything faded away until it was just you two staring into each other’s eyes and never wanting to look away.

Here in front of me, Shining so much brighter than I have ever seen,

When you started singing, your feelings put into the song, Luke knew Reggie was right. Your feelings were the same as his and Luke waited all this time for nothing, he could have told you the truth a long time ago. But now is better than never. With his one hand still holding yours and his other wrapped around your waist, Luke let his forehead fall against yours.

Life can be so mean, But when he goes, I know he doesn't leave,

Your voice cracked as Luke and you started to sing together and you barely got a few words into the next verse before you stopped and cried out and said what you’ve wanted to say for years.

“I’m in love with you.”

For a moment in the room, amongst the four heartbroken teenage ghosts, it was as if time froze. Your eyes were closed and your head dipped in relief. Had your eyes been opened, you would’ve seen Luke’s eyes light up and his lips pull into the soft smile you’ve fallen in love with. Instead, you only heard him whisper back, “I’m in love with you, too” before his lips hit yours.

The kiss shared between the two of you was effortless and it was simple. You didn’t have to think with him. Luke’s grip on you never faltered, pulling you close to him as he let go of your hand to cup the bottom of your jaw toward the back of your neck, tugging you closer to him as his fingers gently tangled in your hair. You lost yourself in the feeling, kissing Luke back with everything you had in you.

You didn’t want to pull away, you wanted to stay here in this bliss forever, but the feeling in your wrist like a dull pain that was more an annoyance wasn’t going away. So, you pulled away.

Luke and you locked eyes with matching smiles, both heartbeats beating fast in your chests until you heard either Alex or Reggie gasp, you weren’t sure which. “Y/N.” Reggie said before he was at your side, scaring you with his speed.

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked as he grabbed the wrist that caused your distraction as your eyes doubled. The stamp was slowly rising off you, shining as it grew in the air, and just like when you watched Caleb free the boys, it disintegrated.

You looked up to your brother first, your wrist still in his hand as he slowly smiled and you couldn’t help the laugh of relief that escaped from your smile. Then you looked to Alex, who stood with a dropped jaw and eyes locked on your wrist but you could see his breathing skip as he understood what this meant. Finally, you turned to Luke. His eyes were glued to the side of your face since the stamp was gone. He didn’t know how to feel right now. You’re safe. You’re free. You’re in love with him.

You pulled your wrist from your brother and jumped in Luke’s arms, your legs going around his waist as he spun you around. When your feet hit the ground again, you moved your face in front of his as he smiled. “I love you.” he repeated, wanting you to know he didn’t just say it because he thought he’d never see you again. He said it because he truly meant it.

“I love you too.” You whispered, pushing your hand through his hair. You were leaning in about to kiss him before Alex cleared his throat, causing the three of you to look at him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disrupt this beautiful moment you’ve got going on, but maybe this is something you can continue back home? Not in the ghost club that could trap us forever?”

Alex was right and the four of you took each other’s hands and disappeared, seconds before Caleb rushed back in, well aware of the fact that somehow, you’ve lost your stamp.

---

You’ve never been more thankful to be back in Julie’s studio before in your life. Relief was written across everyone’s faces and you leaned into Luke’s side and his arm went around your shoulder as he pressed a kiss onto your temple. With a look up at him and a warm smile on your face, you quickly finished that kiss Alex interrupted before it could start.

You both giggled, cheeks flaring as you’ve come to term that things are going to be different from now on, but a good different, nonetheless. Reggie pulled you away from Luke, getting a hug that wasn’t sad and you reciprocated right away, your brother’s hugs always making you feel at home.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.” He said when you separated and you nodded frantically.

“I’m so glad we’re all alright. I mean, I can’t imagine how awful this night could’ve been if it had gone any other way.” You looked around, seeing the three boys nodding their heads in agreement before you paused. “Where’s Julie?”

None of them knew, but you had a small guess on where’d she’d be. You teleported to her room, standing at the foot of the bed as you looked at the crying younger girl on the bed, her head buried in the pillows and your heart ached for her. “You cryin’ over me, Jules?”

Her head snapped around so fast you were certain she had whiplash. She didn’t acknowledge any pain of the action before she leaped out of the bed and into a hug with you. You laughed out, happy to see the tears had stopped as you hugged her back. “You’re okay!” She cried out and you squeezed her before you tensed.

“Wait, a minute, how can I-“

“Freaky, right?” Julie interrupted you and your eyes widened. “It happened with the boys earlier too, after you had…” She trailed off, her eyes glancing down to your wrist before flickering back up to your eyes.

You smiled at her, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, and shook your head. “It’s not there. I’m free.”

“No one made a deal this time, right?”

You laughed again and shook your head, unable to keep the smile on your face at bay. “No. No, this time it was something else.” You thought about Luke and your kiss, how it erased the stamp and Julie cocked her head, wanting to know what was going through yours. “I’ll tell you later. Um, first I have to apologize.”

Her face softened and her hand fell on top of yours still pressed against her cheek. “You don’t have to do that, Y/N. You did what you thought was best was the boys. Just like you always do.”

“I shouldn’t have left you like that. I shouldn’t have left any of you like that.”

“Y/N.” Julie cut you off, knowing you were going to spiral in apologies. “Thank you for not leaving me.” You gave her a nod before another hug, basking in the first time you were able to touch and hug your friend. “Now come on,” she pulled back, moving to grab some tissues to wipe her tears as well as yours. “I’m sure the boys are waiting for you in the studio.” Julie stuck her elbow out and you quickly locked it with yours before the two of you skipped quickly out of the house and into the studio. Willie was there again and, in your presence, he smiled and stepped forward.

“Thank you.” He said and it was more than enough for you as you glanced down to his hand interlocked with Alex’s and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Don’t mention it, Willie.” You told him, giving him a fist bump that Willie happily returned. Luke surprised you as he snuck up behind you, pulling your back against his chest and his arms went around your waist.

You chuckled, turning to look over your shoulder and you kissed him, only to pull away and see a giddy Julie trying to hide her surprise. You had a little to catch her up with.

“Okay! Okay!” You shouted, putting your hands in the air as everyone paid attention to you. “I know tonight has been… less than ideal-“

“That’s one way to put it.” Your brother interrupted you and you lightheartedly glared at him.

“I know tonight has been less than ideal, but I do believe we had a damn good performance at The Orpheum and I, for one, would like to celebrate that.” There were cheers from your friends as you migrated to the seats. Luke, Reggie and you took the couch with you in the middle and leaning back against Luke and your legs resting on your brother’s lap. Luke’s arms were wrapped around you comfortably and as your band celebrated, the two of you snuck kisses, which when you were sometimes caught by your brother, earned you both remarks about him not wanting to see his sister and best friend making out, but Luke and you only responded with more kisses. Willie and Alex were sitting on the floor close enough that when one moved, the other did as well. Julie was perched on the chair next to Luke, right where you could reach out and grab her leg or hand to get her attention, and with the levels of laughs and conversations in the room, it was something you had to do quite a bit.

You all stayed there for hours, even Julie who was the only one who needed sleep. Soon though, she was slumped in the chair and your conversation was taken down in volume to allow her the sleep she needed and deserved.

You didn’t know what awaited you if you ever crossed over, but you could imagine if it brought you peace and happiness then it would feel like this moment with your family. Life, and death, was a leap of faith, but for them, you’d jump a thousand times.

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pink-flame · 3 years

Note

You know, we did not get an official first Juke Bodyguard AU kiss. Did they kiss after Julie's show? I'd like to know how their first kiss was

I mean technically you did get their first kiss, it was just brief and apparently unsatisfying. So...let’s try this again. 😂 Have their second kiss.

Julie was pretty sure that her Orpheum concert was the best show she had ever done.

There was the fact that she had been dreaming of performing there for practically her entire life, ever since Reggie and Alex had taken her to her first concert ever in that very same club. There was the fact that for the first time in a long time almost everyone she cared about was gathered to watch her, her dad, and her brothers, and Alex and Flynn. There was the fact that every single note seemed to fall exactly where it was meant to, her voice soaring like never before in a way that felt...easy.

But she would have been lying if she said that any of those factors were the real reason why it was her best show ever.

The truth was a lot simpler.

The truth was she performed the whole concert with a permanent smile stretching across her lips, lips that still tingled from where they had all too briefly pressed against Luke’s. They had exchanged I love yous. They had finally stopped dancing around each other and wondering if the other felt the same.

And they had kissed.

Even if it had been cut frustratingly short.

Still.

There would be plenty of time for that. Like. The second her show ended.

Only it didn’t turn out to be quite that simple.

Luke had clearly had the same idea because he was waiting for her in the wings, hovering even closer to the edge of the stage than he would on a normal night, those big eyes and that distracting grin fixed on her until her final bow. As soon as Julie practically ran off of the stage she was in his personal space, struggling to maintain some small semblance of professionalism by not immediately latching her lips onto his. It was a struggle though and one that he seemed to be feeling too.

“Hi,” She said, looking up at him, as her lip slipped between her teeth.

“Hi,” He echoed, one of his hands coming up to touch lightly at her elbow and usher her slightly farther into the wings.

And that was ok, that was normal, in fact before she had started trying to ignore him they regularly touched way more than this in front of anyone and everyone. Only now her skin practically burned where his fingers rested on it and she found herself unintentionally swaying even closer to him. He must have been feeling it too because the next thing she knew his head was dipping down towards hers, and hers was tilting up and…

Oh.

“Luke,” She whispered, her hands coming up to press against his chest and halt his progress. “Let’s go somewhere more private, ok?”

He didn’t respond right away, his body seeming prepared to fight to continue its journey towards hers for a split second before her words pierced the haze around his mind. He jolted and took a half step back, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his head sheepishly.

“Right, yeah, good idea.”

He recovered from his embarrassment quickly, shooting her another grin and using his grip on her elbow to guide her out into the hall and towards her green room.

Julie wasn’t exactly proud of the way she spent the short walk counting the seconds until she and Luke could be alone and more properly express their happiness at finally confessing to each other but...that didn’t mean she wasn’t counting them. Unfortunately when Luke finally gripped the door handle and ushered them inside they were very much not alone.

In fact the room was packed with just about everyone she had previously been so excited were there to see her play. Oh. Yeah.

“Julie, that was phenomenal!”

Before she could react, Julie’s dad was striding across the room and sweeping her up into her arms, jostling her away from a frowning Luke in the process.

“Thanks, Dad,” Julie said genuinely, returning his hug before pulling away with a smile.

Her dad wasn’t the only one who wanted her attention and to congratulate her, Flynn, Reggie, Alex and even Carlos all stepping forward to take their turn, the room quickly becoming an impromptu celebration of Julie finally achieving one of her lifelong dreams to perform at the Orpheum. And she appreciated it, she did. So much.

But she was also incredibly aware of Luke hovering at the outskirts of the gathering, Reggie and Alex doing their best to keep him involved in conversation, but his energy practically bouncing around the room and blasting into her with its intensity. She was pretty sure she was matching it if she was being honest. It had been the better part of a year spent thinking that their respective feelings were unrequited and now that the unrequited part had been proved to very much not be true they were both practically vibrating with anticipation of what came next.

So when Julie glanced over her shoulder and locked eyes with Luke as they each did their best to keep up a conversation with different people, she knew the exact moment that both of them decided they were done waiting.

Luke was suddenly pulling out his phone and making a big show of reading a supposed message that had come through before hurrying over to her and practically tugging her towards the door.

“Sorry everyone, need to borrow Julie just for a minute, official business.”

Julie did her best to ignore the knowing looks Alex, Reggie and Flynn all sent them and the way her dad’s forehead furrowed in confusion, following Luke out into the hall and pausing just long enough to make sure the door was shut securely behind them. That turned out to be all she had time to do before Luke was swinging her gently against the wall and bracketing her body with both of his inescapably muscular arms.

“Sorry,” He murmured, his face once again starting to dip towards hers. “I got impatient.”

“No, yeah, same,” Julie said a little breathlessly, reaching up to rest a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Ok, that’s good then,” He said, his voice dropping by at least an octave as one of his hands slipped off of the wall to rest on her lower back, tugging her even closer to him and wrenching a gasp from her without her permission.

Their lips were just about to connect when Alex’s voice suddenly sounded from just on the other side of the green room door.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, I’m on my way.”

Julie’s eyes widened in panic with the knowledge that Alex was about to step out and catch them in a somewhat compromising position. She knew that it wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong, and they certainly weren’t doing anything Alex hadn’t already probably guessed they were somewhere doing. But that didn’t mean she was ready for her best friend and assistant to see with his own eyes the way she and Luke simply couldn’t keep their hands off of each other at the moment. Luke clearly felt the same, only luckily for her his bodyguard instincts seemed to kick in. Just as the handle on the door started to move he tugged her down the hallway and through the next door they came to.

Julie’s first observation was only that it seemed that they had succeeded in avoiding Alex and she let a rush of relief flow through her. But her second observation was that she and Luke were pressed up against each other in what appeared to be a small closet.

Again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” She said quietly.

“I guess this is going to be our thing,” Luke answered with another one of those heat fluttering grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out.”

“Oh yeah?” Julie chuckled. “How long do you think it will be?”

“Hmmm…” Luke wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body even more flush against his. “Hard to say. Better safe than sorry.”

Julie giggled at that, she couldn’t help it. She was happy and she loved him and he loved her and they were finally alone and they were back in a closet and…

Luke’s mouth pressed against hers, at first softly than more insistently, his fingers curling into the soft skin of her waist as she melted fully against him. Julie could hardly process the actual sensation of the kiss through all of the fireworks that felt like they were exploding in her mind as her brain practically sang in elation at the rightness of being Luke and Julie, together. Of course that didn’t last long as her lips parted of their own accord and he instantly deepened the kiss with a little groan of satisfaction that sent tingles from her head to her toes. She brought up one hand to rest on the back of his neck while she couldn’t resist letting the other work its way into that stupid, messy hair. She curled her fingers around a few strands of his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp. His reaction was immediate, seeming to lose his balance at the sensation as he stumbled pushing both of them against the wall knocking over what she was pretty sure was a stand containing cleaning supplies.

Julie broke away from the kiss, laughing uncontrollably as Luke struggled to regain his balance, push away a mop that had landed on his shoulder and reconnect their lips all at the same time.

“I’m going to be honest, I’m thinking it’s probably a good thing I’m getting a new bodyguard soon,” She teased, stroking gently at the patch of skin on his neck she could still reach. “Apparently all it takes to take you out is a scalp massage.”

Luke smirked down at her.

“Oh, so what I’m hearing is you want me to show you my skills,” He said in that soft, low voice that made it really hard for her to focus on anything, even teasing him. “Observing...detecting...physical intervention…”

Julie wanted very badly to make fun of the way he was trying to use bodyguard lingo to get under her skin but the problem was it was absolutely working, which meant it was safer just to say nothing. Instead she let her eyes slide closed, and her head tilt up and could just feel the slightest brush of his lips against hers when a loud knock had them springing apart.

“Are you two done because Julie’s dad would really like to take his daughter to a celebratory dinner and I don’t want to have to be the one who tells him she’s engaged in steamy activities in a random closet.”

Luke groaned and Julie chuckled.

“We’ll be right there, Alex,” She called out.

“Will we?” Luke grumbled.

“Yes,” Julie said with a smile, before leaning up to press one last quick kiss to his mouth. “I love you.”

That seemed to ease some of his disappointment, a sappy, pleased smile spreading onto his face instantly.

“I love you too.”

“Now come on,” Julie said, tugging him towards the door with a grin. “The sooner we get dinner with my dad the sooner you can do one last security sweep of my apartment.”

#500 followers #prompt game #juke #jatp #bodyguard au #my fics

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

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Lost Time II // Luke Patterson

Summary: Weeks after discovering his greatest joy Luke visits his former girlfriend to make up for the lost time. Unable to do it alone his band gives their support to find her and stand by his side as he faces his greatest regret.

Warning: Talk of death, allusion to homophobic parents, teen pregnancy and angst

Words: 3.1k

The book Midnight Club by Christopher Pike came out in 1994 but to fit this fic the book came out in 1993. Also, Alex’s last name will be Mitchell in this.

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

A/N: Jesus I love Ben with my entire heart and I am a cruel person to have ripped Luke and Ben from each other before they had a chance. Enjoy!

Part One

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1993

A sunny summer day spent outside reading a new book that had come out recently nestled in your hands under the large tree. The tree that had many tire swings before your parents caved to get a swing set. Now the tree was a companion on lovely days providing shade under the hot sun.

Alex was at band practice with the rest of Sunset Curve in the garage, or studio as Luke deemed it. More often than not, you would be in the studio watching them rehearse, but things changed, things had gotten more serious with Luke in the past six or so months. Plus, Bobby seriously was someone you wanted the least amount of time spent with.

“Hey.” Luke sighed, dropped on the faded blanket you had settled on. Raising one finger, you finished the page before placing the bookmark in.

“Hi.” You grinned leaning in as he pressed a kiss to your soft lips, “Used my Chapstick again?”

Luke hid his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m addicted to it, or it’s just your lips.”

He snuck another kiss before nudging you to adjust lay against his chest between his legs, a familiar position. One where you could read a book, and he could wrap his one arm around you while he wrote in his songbook with the other. God, you loved the boy with your entire heart.

“How’s the book?”

“It’s okay.”

“What’s it about?” Luke asked, wrapping his arms around your midsection.

“Five terminally ill teens living in a hospice tell scary stories every night. They all made a pact together that whoever died first would have to try to contact the others.” You sighed, dropping the book beside you to rest your arms on his.

“Sounds depressing.” Luke hummed, pressing a kiss to your neck, “I can think of more exciting things to do.”

“Over my dead body.” Alex snickered walking passed the young couple on his walk to the house. Reggie following after him with a laugh of his own; it was still odd to see Luke so loved up.

“I was talking about going to a concert!” Luke called out as his friends entered the Mitchell house, leaving the couple alone.

“You totally were not.” You spoke already knowing the answer as Luke nodded his head, “It’s a shock he lets us be alone.”

Turning to face Luke, you couldn’t help the blush that grew from the soft look in his eyes that you had only noticed after he asked you out. The boy had had a crush for a long time even if it was awkward given the previous thing he had with Alex.

“He’ll have to get used to it.”

“So, have you gotten a gig at The Orpheum yet?” You asked, shifting again to nestle against his side content to spend the time there in the backyard.

“Nah, we booked some smaller venues, but we’ll get there. I know it.” Luke was completely confident that one day he would be playing in the most popular venues. The other thing he was confident was his relationship.

“Where will I be?” You spoke looking at the recently turned sixteen-year-old boy who had quickly become the most important thing in your life. Never expected to fall in love with Alex’s ex-fling.

“Cheering us on. Have to have my number one supporter and wife because she’s been there since the dream began. The dream just expanded?”

“Wife?” You breathed.

“I’m not dating you just to date. I’m dating you because when I dream of my future, you are right there next to me.” Luke admitted caressing your cheek the pad of his thumb, “Wherever in the world, we find ourselves I want you there.”

“What about kids?”

“We’ll have as many as you want. Or however many we are lucky to have.” Luke breathed growing more excited as he finally revealed his ideas and firm belief, “Of course I want to be married first. After The Orpheum I want the next thing to focus one hundred percent on is a wedding that you deserve and-“

“Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me.” You raised to your knees cradling his face in your hands, “That’s what I dream of too. Having a career but something that lets me travel with the love of my life and my chosen family.”

“It’s not how I want…I want it to be special and romantic because you deserve it.” Luke adamantly spoke, pressing his hands on yours still resting on his face.

“Luke. I love you. Just sitting here like we are is special and romantic.”

“Will you marry me?” Luke whispered, leaning to press his forehead on yours. The orange beanie tickling your skin.

“Yes. As soon as I turn eighteen.” You didn’t care if you had two more years to wait. As long as Luke was by your side, you didn’t care about how you got married just as long as you married him.

Los Angeles, 2004

There are times that Reggie knows that the last thing people need is his goofy personality and jokes. When Luke returned from wherever he had gone, it was evident that something had drastically changed since the last time they had seen him.

“Luke?” Reggie gently spoke hesitantly moving to the boy curled on the couch, sobbing into his hands. Reggie had never seen Luke like this before, not even when it cemented that they had died and Luke’s future with Y/N shattered in a moment.

“Reg-“ Alex poofed in next going stock still at the distraught teenager. His eyes widened as he quickly made his way to Luke, “What’s wrong?”

“I-I saw Y/N.” Luke choked out, shaking his head, “I knew it would hurt, but it felt like I died again. Like I literally watched my hopes and dream just shatter before me.”

Alex was quiet taking in that Luke had seen Y/N. Alex missed his sister with everything in him, but Luke had plans.

“How is she?” Alex whispered, grabbing the hands of one of his best friends in the entire world. The one guy he had wholly trusted with his sister’s heart.

“She looks so good. God, it’s been nine years for her but only a few weeks for me. She’s more beautiful than I remember.” Luke breathed, raising teary eyes to meet Alex and Reggie’s concerned expressions, “I also saw Ben.”

“She got married?” Alex questioned surprised, “Please tell me it isn’t Bobby. I don’t think I could stomach that.”

“His name isn’t Ben and he probably tried after deciding on a respectable time for it to be okay-“

“Reggie.” Alex hissed motioning him to stop talking while Luke knew that Bobby had had feelings for you, he didn’t think he would try anything.

“I don’t think she’s married, but Ben is definitely a big part of what I missed out on.” Luke sighed, picking at a loose thread on his jeans, “I’m sure you know that in the three years, I was actually alive and with her that things happened.”

“Things like…?” Alex trailed off having a feeling he wouldn’t want to know about whatever Luke was hesitant to announce.

“Um…well we were, I am in love.” Luke grimaced at how odd it was to word his feelings for a girl he had died while planning a future, “in relationships you show affection in particular-“

“Okay as you struggle to finish that I will.” Reggie spoke, turning to Alex, “Luke and Y/N as a couple were having sex.”

Alex’s eyes went wide at the blunt statement that he never wanted to hear again in his life because you were his sister! He didn’t need to even think of anything to do other than the kissing he sometimes walked in on. He knew already but didn’t want to know either.

“I died, leaving Y/N pregnant! Which I didn’t know about.” Luke shouted poofing to the other side of the garage when he saw Alex’s fist start to clench. He poofed to the loft when Alex appeared to his last place, “C’mon man!”

“You knocked my sister up!”

Reggie’s mouth dropped at the physical aggression that Alex was showing because Alex was more peaceful and non-violent.

“I didn’t know! He’s eight!” Luke yelped when Alex grabbed him in a headlock, “Dude! I didn’t know! We were gonna get married when she turned eighteen! I love her, man!”

Reggie pulled Alex away from the lead guitarist before a fight happened, and even though part of Reggie wanted to see Alex fight…he wanted Luke here as well.

Alex was quiet, “What does he look like?”

Despite the agony of not being there for his son Luke launched into a description of the little boy.

With a white lie out of Julie’s mouth, she had gotten the address from Emily and Mitch for Luke and Alex. The address led to a small house with pretty flowers and a bike in the front yard; the place where Luke’s son had been growing up in since he was two years old.

Julie’s fist raised, knocking on the white door listening as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. The door opened, revealing a little boy with startling green eyes that he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas!” You huffed turning the corner with a frown, “You may be eight, but you are still not allowed to open the door alone!”

The little boy slouched at the greeting before his eyes met three boys behind the Peurto Rican pretty girl.

“Oh my god. He looks just like you!” Alex hissed to Luke unable to remove his gaze from his…his nephew. His attention pulled to the woman his sister had grown to be.

“Julie, right?” You spoke gently tugging Ben closer to you, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah.” Julie nodded, mumbled a thank you as you welcomed the girl into the small home you had made. It was small but perfect, “Did he get stitches?”

“Oh yeah! I guess you were there when he got hurt.” You nodded, moving a book from the couch for Julie to sit down. Your attention was on Ben as he went to the corner to play with toys, “He did. He’s kinda like my brother and his dad in that way.”

“Oh, god.” The overly familiar voice snapped your attention.

Sitting on either side of Julie were exact replicas of three boys that tragically died back in 1995, everyone froze. Even Ben looked up from the tension.

“Mama?” Ben asked, furrowing his brow.

“It’s okay Ben. Can you go to your room?” You asked, staring pale at the two people that you hadn’t noticed before. They hadn’t been visible to you at the time until they sat beside Julie. The scampering of feet and the gentle closing a door left you alone with four people.

“She can see us.”

Mutely you nodded at Alex’s statement slouching into the couch in shock, “What is happening?”

“I found a CD in my garage, and I played it. Out of nowhere, Luke, Reggie and Alex literally appeared in the room. They’re ghosts.” Julie spoke softly, “I’m not sure how I can see them, but I can.”

“Wow.” You breathed leaning back into the couch, unable to tear your gaze from the three boys, “Let me guess. Your first order of business was haunting the hell out of Bobby?”

Bobby, Trevor as the world knew, had lived up to your predictions of him being a lowlife rat boy. If you didn’t have Ben, you would have gone after him, but you couldn’t risk what little you had at the time.

“He stole our songs,” Luke grumbled crossing his arms so like you remember from years ago. He was still the passionate, caring musician you fell in love with so quickly.

“I know. I tried everything but with Ben…it was too hard, but hey he’s gotten little success from his new stuff. Guess he didn’t think of how stealing songs wouldn’t pan out.” You shrugged, twisting a ring on your finger that Luke gave you a few weeks after the spontaneous proposal.

“So Ben?” Alex questioned, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees with great interest in the new topic.

The tsunami of happiness broke through the heavy fog of sadness when your favourite subject came around. Talking about Ben could go on for years you swore with the amount of love for him.

“His name is Benjamin Lucas Patterson. He’s eight years old and obsessed with music, they say playing classical music helps with mental intelligence. Still, he wouldn’t settle unless I played rock.” You laughed glancing over your shoulder at the closed door, “He adores Bear in the Big Blue House and Dragon Tales. Not fond of Barney or Sesame Street but he’ll still watch it.”

The guys ate it up listening to every detail of a little boy they missed even if they only recently learnt about him. Reggie was silent listening to your stories of the young boy.

“His prized possession…come with me.” You gestured turning to head to the bedroom, “I didn’t ask for a lot of baby stuff, just the essentials and anything someone could make. Sunset Curve. You guys were significant to us, so I wanted Ben to have that.”

Ben was settled playing with the cars by his toy chest barely glancing as four people came together. Julie decided to stay in the living room. With a hand, you grabbed the blanket Ben absolutely always needed. It was a homemade blanket made entirely out of clothing—one of Reggie’s flannels, a few shirts from concerts with Luke and clothing that Alex loved.

“Y/N,” Alex spoke, brushing his fingers over the worn material touched at the action of doing something so little yet powerful.

“I’m going, to be frank. After you died and I went to your fun-“ the word choked you as if you were back in 1995 sitting beside your mother wearing that black dress; a dress you burnt in the bathroom tub, “Mom found the test in my room. Rookie mistake. They weren’t thrilled about the baby and who the father was.”

“They kicked you out?”

“And Luke’s parents immediately welcomed me into their home. I owe them a lot, and Emily made this for Ben, she may not have approved of the band, but she knew it was important, so she wanted Ben to have a piece of his father’s greatest joy.”

“Mama? Can we have burgers tonight?” Ben asked quietly from his toys, “Can they stay for supper?”

Ben was shy with new people, but once he got to know someone, he was just like Luke with his bubbly and passionate personality. He was the spitting image of Luke with his hair and eye colour, but he got your nose and skin colour.

“If they want to.” You smiled, reaching over to pull the eight-year-old into your arms only wanting him to never grow up.

Alex, needing a break from the grief, wandered to a picture hanging on the wall that was a shadow box with his very first drum sticks. Underneath was Reggie’s old necklace that had to be replaced. Lastly underneath was the very first pick Luke used for the first song the band had performed.

“I’m Ben.” The boy spoke, meeting the eyes of the newcomers, “You’re the band that passed away, right?”

“Yeah. This may be confusing but Ben this is Alex, Reggie and Luke.” You replied, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. Ben returned to his quiet nature before looking at your eyes.

“That’s my family, right?”

In perfect sync, Alex and Luke started silently crying at the little boy’s words wishing that that night had never happened. It seemed at the time the right way to start the new chapter with one last street dog.

“Yeah, baby.” You cleared your throat nodding along to the innocent words your son spoke before he was wandering out of the room, “One hour of cartoons young man.”

“I’m gonna go.” Reggie spoke gesturing after the boy, “I wanna watch Cartoons.”

Reggie poofed out of the room following the little boy out of the room, leaving three sad people. The room was heavy in loss, so sad it could choke a person.

“Does Mom and Dad have anything to do with him?” Alex asked as the boys covered their grief by wandering around the bedroom. Taking in the pictures of Ben from throughout the eight years, some with you or with his paternal grandparents. Few had Alex and your parents.

“They moved a few months after you died.” You admitted, “After the way they reacted to Ben I didn’t want him in that environment. We get Christmas cards and calls on his birthday, but I don’t have the time to travel.”

Alex nodded vividly remembering the way they reacted after he had told his parents that he didn’t like girls. It was challenging since Dad was always excited for the family name to be passed down, he didn’t see that the name could continue no matter who Alex loved. Mom was more open but stepped in line with her husband instead of her hurting son.

“I’m sorry.” Luke blurted stepping closer to you, allowing you to see the ocean of tears and pain swimming in his tortured gaze, “I shouldn’t have gotten that street dog. I should have stayed with you, you weren’t feeling good.”

“Things happen for a reason, Luke.” You sadly reminded the boy, “I wish it didn’t happen, but it did, and I’ve learned to live with that. Ben has a wonderful family and a good life.”

“He knows about us too,” Luke spoke, thinking back to barely half an hour ago when Ben acted as if he knew Luke all his life. God, Luke wished he could have seen everything.

“I have videos of Ben if you want to see them.” You offered the boy, “There’s a television in the den where Ben has his baby book, and the home videos if you want. You can stay in there all you want.”

Luke nodded, playing with his fingers, “I’d love that.”

“If you want to be alone, I can take Ben for ice cream. You can have the whole house to watch alone.” You graciously offered the boy you would always love and believed before that you would see him in decades after your own death.

Luke silently nodded following as you took him to the den where it had a child-sized guitar and floor to ceiling bookshelves. A television was tucked in the corner with a video camera stored on a shelf with a VHS player. In a sealed container, the home videos were kept safe along with the baby books.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. It’s nice to see you, Luke. Really.” You told the now younger boy keeping his eyes on the opened bucket. A bucket that held all the firsts he had missed out on a little boy he had loved since first seeing him in his family home weeks ago.

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#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson x reader #charlie gillespie imagines #jatp luke #jatp au #jatp fanfic #dad!luke patterson #uncle!alex jatp #caitsy and ash productions

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ewwhothefuckiski · 4 years

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hi can i get a best friends to lovers charlie gillespie fic? thanks :)

When you were five, you had gone to the park with your mother. You had always enjoyed playing in the sand box, you'd always bring a bottle of water and make a tower surrounded by a river.

One day, you arrived at the park and rushed to the sandbox, only to see a little boy standing in the middle of it, playing a toy guitar and singing a song.

As you got closer, you realized it was your favorite song.

"Hi, I like your song!"

The boy stopped singing and looked up to you, A blush spreading across his cheeks. "T-Thanks."

"Im Y/N, what's your name?" you asked, sticking out your hand, waiting for him to shake it.

"Charlie, do you wanna play band with me?" He asked, shaking your hand.

You gasped and jumped into the sand box, quickly agreeing.

From that day forward, you and Charlie were inseparable. You grew up being the best of friends and were practically attached to the hip.

You had learned to ride your bikes together, how to tie your shoes, and even how to play guitar- the real kind.

×××

Then middle school came rolling around, and you realized that you thought of Charlie more than a friend. You loved the way he smiled, his laugh was so contagious, you had your first ever crush.

Around the 9th grade is when you realized you had real feelings for Charlie. You were in love with him. You wished you could tell him how you really felt, but you couldn't risk your friendship.

By now, Charlie had hit puberty, and the girls had definitely noticed his suddenly toned arms and chest, along with his killer jawline and amazing voice. You had definitely noticed as well.

When the first high school dance came along, Charlie was quick to reject any girl who asked him, he was going with you. He couldn't see himself going with anyone else. And plus, none of those girls were even half as pretty as you were.

The rest of high school went the same, girls pining over Charlie, and him ignoring them and sticking by your side.

When high school was finally over, Charlie had started taking his singing career more seriously, and you were there to support him no matter where he wanted to go.

Charlie realized his feelings for you sometime along the way, but he couldn't ruin your friendship either, and plus, you were way too pretty for him anyways.

You helped him book small gigs at clubs and sometimes you sang together on the streets, but it wasn't enough, he wanted something bigger.

×××

When he was 22, he auditioned for the role of Luke for a Netflix show called "Julie and the Phantoms". As he was auditioning, you were in the sidelines cheering him on.

When the call finally came, you were jumping into his arms screaming, and he twirled you around as you celebrated in his bedroom. He was in a Netflix show. This was his big break.

However, you were absolutely heartbroken when you found out he had to fly to Canada for a year to film. It felt like your soul left your body.

"I'll be back before you know it." He whispered, hugging you tightly in the middle of the airport.

Tears had been streaming down your face since you arrived, and they sure as he'll weren't stopping now.

"Promise you'll call me everyday?" You sniffled, squeezing him tighter. You couldn't bring yourself to let go.

"I promise." He whispered, placing a small kiss on your temple. "I'll call you every night yeah?"

×××

It had been six months since you last seen Charlie, and you couldn't wait any longer. You bought a ticket to Vancouver and flew out to see him, he just didn't know it yet, even as you sat in your car in the sets parking lot.

You face timed Charlie pretending everything was normal, even though you were making your journey to his set and your heart felt like it was going to explode.

"Hey beautiful! What's up?"

You smiled down at your phone, shrugging your shoulders. "Not much, just wanted to see what the movie star was up to. I missed hearing your voice." You sighed, fighting back the smile crawling onto your face.

"Not much really. Just rehearsing my lines. I miss you like crazy Y/N." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He stared at you through the screen, squinting his eyes when he recognized where you were. "Hey where are y-" He cut himself off and turned around in his chair just in time for him to jump up and run to you, taking you into his arms.

"Y/N?" He breathed, taking your presence in. "How'd you get here?"

"I flew dummy." You giggled, running a hand through his freshly cut hair. "I like the haircut."

"Yeah?" He smirked, picking you up and placing you in his back.

"Yeah, it gives you that 'sexy rock star' look."

He chuckled and placed you down in front of his trailer, opening the door for you. "We should have some privacy in here."

Your cheeks turned red as you stepped inside, him quickly following you in.

He shut the door and quickly turned to you, sighing when he seen you were still there. "Gosh, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

"I've missed you too rockstar." You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and gazing into his eyes.

He placed his hands on your hips, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips.

"Enough for me to kiss you?"

You heart stopped and your breath caught in your throat. When you didn't respond he went to pull his hands away, but you were quick to put them back.

Before he even had a chance to speak, your lips were on his, moving feverishly. He immediately kissed you back, pulling you flush to him as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands pulled at his hair, pulling yourself as close to him as physically possible, until you you breathing him in.

The kiss quickly escalated and was soon turned into a make out, your lips molding into his perfectly. The kiss was full of heat, full of passion. It was like all of those years of built up emotions came flooding in, breaking through the surface.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath.

"I've wanted to tell you for so long, how much I really love you." He whispered, leaving his forehead on yours.

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach filled with butterflies, finally hearing him say those words.

"I love you too rockstar."

×××

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted 😅

#charlie gillespie smut #charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson smut #luke patterson #luke jatp #asks #requests #Headheartbellarke

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

we’re just like kevin bacon!

prompt: for @bricksatanakinswindow ‘s halloween writing challenge! this was initially inspired by "mortal enemies accidentally showing up in matching costumes every fucking year" but once i started writing it kind of snowballed from there and i ended up with this lmao

ship: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k+ (i think this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written lol)

warnings n stuff: childhood enemies to lovers, swearing, mention of underage drinking, halloween shenanigans, makin' out, smut (not too explicit but i still think it's spicy enough to need an 18+ warning), jj and the reader being cute lil nerds and quoting movies back and forth, the author blatantly using some of her personal favorite movies/shows as inspiration for costumes, the author also making her opinions on ghostbusters clear (instead of the human trash can peter venkman, stan the adorable dork known as ray stantz for clear skin)

a/n: this was hella fun to write and i already have so many more halloween fic ideas bouncing around in my head (it's spoopy season, y'all!). title of this fic comes from guardians of the galaxy 😊

Of three things in life you were certain.

One, you loved Halloween more than any other holiday of the year; after all, you and your twin brother Mason were born just after one AM on October 31st so you could say a penchant for all things spooky was in your blood.

Two, Sarah Cameron was your best friend. Being neighbors your whole lives, the two of you were thick as thieves and spent almost every day together, much to the annoyance of both your brother and hers; as much as you loved Mason, sometimes you wished Sarah was your twin instead of him and you knew without question the blonde girl would trade Rafe for you in a heartbeat (with little to no guilt, in fact.).

And three, you absolutely hated JJ Maybank. You'd been at the top of each other's shit lists ever since you were both six years old, when he made fun of you for the stutter you'd had back then and you dumped a full milkshake over his head as payback, and even as time passed and you grew out of your stutter, your disdain for the blond pogue only grew stronger. He was infuriating, plain and simple, and the mere mention of his name made steam come out of your ears.

The boy was just good at being annoying and seemed to love pushing everyone's buttons, yours especially, and always found ways to get under your skin without fail every single time your paths crossed (which was way too often for your liking, but running in the same friend group made it hard to avoid each other). It became an unspoken thing, the great Y/L/N-Maybank feud, with both of you trying your hardest to piss the other off until one of your mutual friends or your brother broke it up and pulled you to opposite corners of the metaphorical ring to take a breather before the next round.

You'd never admit it but deep down you kind of liked it. You liked being at the center of his attention (granted, it was antagonistic in nature but it was attention all the same), his bright blue eyes following your every move whenever you were within his sights and you liked that you were in his thoughts even when you weren't around, a fact proven to you by the tiny notebook Kiara carried around in her pocket recording how many times he mentioned your name. Knowing you lived rent free in his mind brought you an embarrassingly high level of satisfaction that you'd absolutely deny feeling if anyone ever asked, just as you'd deny the fact that he lived rent free in your mind, too.

...At least for most of the year. Everyone, including JJ, knew that to you Halloween was a damn-near sacred time. He knew never to mess with you during the weeks leading up to the holiday and definitely never on the day itself, lest he want yet another milkshake dumped over his blond head. He knew that, the whole damn island knew he did and yet...somehow, some way, he managed to get your blood boiling every. single. year. And you, like a masochistic idiot, let him.

It all started when you were twelve.

You, Mason, and your friends were finally old enough to go to the annual youth party held on the sprawling lawn of the Island Club, an event you'd been looking forward to attending every Halloween since you were eight. Of course, you were excited for the dancing and games and food but the thing you couldn't wait the most for was the costume contest, a chance to show off your skills and prove to everyone on the island that Y/N Y/L/N was the undisputed queen of Halloween.

So what if your hopes were a little too high (considering you were only twelve and going up against kids ranging from your age to fifteen), you were still gonna give it your all; you spent weeks perfecting not only your costume but your brother's as well with your mom, helping her cut fabric and sew zippers, styling wigs and painting props until everything was perfect.

"Oh my God, Y/N!" Sarah, dressed as Cinderella, yelled from the passenger seat of her dad's SUV when they swung by to pick you up. "You look amazing!"

"So do you!" You said, slipping into the back seat in between a miserable-looking Rafe as Sarah Sanderson ("I lost a bet," he explained with a scowl) and Mason, holding your mini R2-D2 on your lap. Was it kind of cheesy, dressing up as the most iconic twins in movie history? Probably, but you really didn't care because Leia Organa was a total boss bitch and Mason was practically over the moon that he got to be his ultimate silver screen hero and swing around his very own lightsaber as Luke Skywalker.

"The Force is strong with you two." Ward joked, earning an eye roll from both of his children as he drove to the Island Club to drop you off. Rafe immediately disappeared into the crowd to meet up with Topper and Kelce and the three of you went off to find your own friends, skirting around the edge of the party toward the snack tables, also known as the most likely place for them to be.

You spotted Kiara first, looking like an actual princess in her Tiana costume and waved, smiling when she waved back and beckoned you over as she said something to Pope, dressed as Albert Einstein, that made him start laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" You asked, reaching between them to grab two handfuls of pretzels and immediately dropping one into your brother's outstretched palm, careful to keep the sleeve of your white dress away from the bright orange-iced cupcakes on the table.

The two of them exchanged a look that instantly made you realize something was Up™ but before either of them could answer, Mason asked around a mouthful of pretzels, "Where're Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

"J, why didn't we think of that?" John B's voice came from somewhere over your shoulder and when you turned to face him, you nearly dropped both the droid cradled in the crook of your elbow and the snacks in your hand. Not because of John B and his hilarious Chewbacca costume but because of the fact that JJ Maybank, the one person you hated the most on the whole entire island, was dressed as Han freakin' Solo.

"Yikes." Someone muttered behind you -it sounded like Sarah but you weren't really sure- and Mason nearly choked on his pretzels as he tried and failed miserably to keep himself from laughing.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You huffed, rolling your eyes as JJ crossed his arms and glared in your direction, blaster hanging from the holster on his hip.

"Listen, Princess, I'm not too happy about this, either."

"Oh, shut up, you nerfherder."

"Who you calling-" Mason and John B cut in and pulled you both in opposite directions before either of you could turn it into a shouting match, your brother physically grabbing you around the waist and carrying you off while the latter caught the back of JJ's vest and dragged him away. Despite their best efforts to keep you apart, you ran into each other more times than you could count and spent a minute or two squabbling like cats and dogs each time until one of them intervened once again. It was childish, it was immature, and it was fun, even though you'd never, ever admit it. Ever.

You didn't win the costume contest that year in the way you'd imagined at all. Still, first place in the group category was a win in your book and it felt good, even if one of the members of your unintentional Star Wars posse was someone who tested every bit of patience you had. The four of you split the cash prize and you went home 25 bucks richer, stashing it away for next year's costume and pushing the thought of accidentally matching with your mortal enemy from your mind.

You had no idea this thing was only just beginning.

The next year, you let Sarah and Kiara convince you to match with them and the three of you rolled up to the party as the Pink Ladies -you as Rizzo, Sarah as Sandy, Kiara as Frenchy- only to run right into the boys, your brother included, dressed as the T-Birds. John B, perfectly in character as Danny, immediately whisked Sarah off to dance while Pope, the most adorably awkward Doody you'd ever seen, went to grab some snacks with Kiara, leaving you stuck with the bane of your existence as, of course, fucking Kenickie (Mason, as Sonny, dipped sometime before then without you noticing). The two of you spent the whole evening glaring at each other and hurling insults back and forth at breakneck speed, more in character than either of you'd ever want to acknowledge and for the second year in a row, you won first place in the group costume category.

At fourteen, you went as Princess Buttercup and JJ showed up as Westley, fake sword in hand as he followed you around all night like an annoying fly, sarcastically drawling "as you wish" every time you so much as glanced in his direction. Your brother, dressed as Inigo Montoya, nearly pissed himself laughing and you wanted to snatch both of their prop swords and shove them up their asses. You came in first again in the group costume contest and begrudgingly split the prize three ways.

At fifteen, you worked hard on a Dr. Ellie Sattler costume from Jurassic Park, he strolled in as a disheveled Dr. Alan Grant with mud splattered boots and tattered clothes, and you really regretted not taking the offer to be the Tai to Sarah's Cher and Kiara's Dionne. Once again, Mason laughed so hard his face turned red and you were tempted to grab the sword he was holding and beat him over the head with it, not just for laughing at you but also for the completely atrocious Jack Sparrow costume he wore. To your absolute horror, you and JJ won the contest in the duo category and you wanted to melt into the ground when they called you onto the makeshift stage to collect your reward.

When you were sixteen, you and your friends "graduated" to the party held for the older teens inside the club itself. With costume rules a little more lax than they were for the younger kids, you decided to go as (an only slightly sexy) Janine Melnitz, complete with a prop telephone you answered every so often with a loud "Ghostbusters, whaddya want?!" much to the embarrassment of Mason, who was once again dressed as Luke Skywalker, this time in the fatigues he wore while training on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back.

You strutted into the party in your heels and pencil skirt only to nearly fall flat on your face when you caught sight of JJ in a terrible black wig and glasses, proton pack strapped to his back and 'Spengler' printed on the front of his jumpsuit. Your brother winced when you all but screeched "Again?!" right into his ear and grabbed your elbow, dragging you over to an empty table and depositing you into an open chair.

"There's no way this is a coincidence anymore! He could've picked Venkman, with all the womanizing and lowkey being a creep and thinking he's God's gift to mankind? It would've been the perfect choice! He's not nearly adorable or dorky enough to be Stantz or sassy enough to be Winston-"

"Jesus, you have a lot of feelings about Ghostbusters," Mason muttered, rolling his eyes when you shot him a withering glare.

"Shut up! Listen to me, there's no way in hell Maybank randomly decided to be, out of alllll the 'Busters, Egon fuckin' Spengler, okay? He had to have somehow known I was coming as Janine and did it just to piss me off!"

Your brother heaved a deep, heavy sigh that made you want to smack him and fixed you with a deadpan stare. "Or, have you pulled your head out of your own ass long enough to think that maybe you're just becoming...predictable?"

You really did smack him then, hard on his exposed shoulder and he yelped, scowling as he rubbed at the red mark you left behind. "Ow! What the hell, bitch?!"

"Don't you dare call me predictable, you dickhead! I pride myself on my costumes being very unique and unexpected -you know, out of the box!"

"Hate to break it to you but they're not really out of the box if Maybank shows up in a matching one every single year." He said with an infuriating, shit-eating grin, patting your shoulder before straightening the plush Yoda strapped to his back. "I'm gonna go get some food, wanna come with?"

Still miffed at his comment, you shoved his arm away and glanced down at your lap, ignoring your brother's sassy "your loss" as he headed toward the snack tables. Not even a minute passed by before his empty seat was taken and you groaned when you looked up to see who it was, your eyes meeting a pair of bright blues behind tacky, oversized glasses.

"Hi, Janine."

"...Egon."

The two of you sat in silence after that, watching the dancing crowd under the flashing neon lights and sparkling disco ball until you saw him turn to face you out of the corner of your eye.

"Why Janine?"

"Huh?" You turned to face him, too, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch as he gestured toward your costume.

"Why did you dress up as Janine, Y/L/N?"

"I've always liked her sassiness and 'I like to play racquetball.'" You offered a casual shrug of your shoulders and carefully stuck a finger under your wig to scratch an annoying itch above your ear. "Why'd you pick Egon, Maybank?"

"He's my favorite." He answered simply with his own shrug, shooting you a genuine, real smile that you, for who knows what reason, found yourself returning without a second thought. "Smart, hilarious -plus, 'I like to collect spores, mold, and fungus.'"

For the first time in your life, your eyes rolled out of amusement and not annoyance at something that JJ Maybank said and, to your complete surprise, it kind of felt...right. "Really? I'd have pegged you for a Venkman stan."

"Are you kidding? He's the worst!"

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you'd sit across from your hated enemy, not only having a civil -hell, downright enjoyable- conversation but actually smiling right along with him, laughing at his jokes and doing your best to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach each time you caught sight of his slightly crooked teeth when he grinned. You didn't even notice when your brother returned with Kiara, dressed as Moana, at his side and two heaping plates of snacks in his hands until his chair scraped gratingly across the hardwood floor.

"Kie, are you seeing this? Pigs must be flying 'cause they're actually smiling at each other." Mason said, cackling as Kiara turned to squint out the window.

"Yeah, I think I see one or two soaring around out there." She giggled and sent a mischievous wink in your direction. With your face feeling like it was on fire, you flipped them both the bird and took off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving all your traitorous, confusing thoughts about JJ behind with the boy himself; it was Rafe's last party at the Club and he owed you a dance anyway, but even as your best friend's older brother, cute as hell in his Thor costume, playfully twirled you around the floor to the Ghostbusters theme song, you felt more than your partner's blue eyes on you.

To no one's surprise, you and JJ won the duo category for the second year in a row and when you joined him onstage to collect your prize and didn't feel like you'd rather die than be up there by his side, you suddenly realized you were only certain about two things in life instead of three.

At seventeen, you were confident you and JJ wouldn't be matching for once (after last year, though, you were kind of thinking it wouldn't be that bad of a thing). You'd gone cult classic for your costume, pulling inspiration from your mom's favorite move, 1999's The Mummy, and put together a screen-accurate Evelyn Carnahan in her iconic black dress, including a handmade Book of the Dead and matching key. You blackmailed Mason with pictures of him, drunk as a skunk and dressed in your Janine costume from the previous year, and got him to go as Jonathan, complete with a pith helmet and prop bottle of The Glenlivet.

But, as always, JJ managed to surprise you. You literally ran right into his chest and if it wasn't for his arms instantly wrapping tight around your waist, you would've bit it hard.

"Whoa, careful there," He said, one hand keeping you close while the other moved to help you hold the book in your arms. "'The Book of the Dead? Are you sure you wanna be messing around with this thing?'"

Of course he'd make the perfect Rick O'Connell, you thought as you playfully raised one eyebrow and curled your fingers around the strap of the gun holster draped over his shoulder. "'It's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a book.'"

Mason was a little too in character as well as he dramatically rolled his eyes and wandered off, muttering "puh-lease" under his breath and shooting Sarah a conspiratorial wink that you didn't see. The blonde girl glanced between the two of you -arms still around each other and identical smiles on your faces- and grinned. The party flew by in a blur of movie quotes, laughs, and more dances than you could count and by the time you made it home, 50 bucks in the pocket of your dress and another group costume win under your belt, you were almost positive you never actually hated JJ Maybank in the first place.

Now at eighteen, you pulled out all the stops for your last party at the Island Club. You'd spent the last few months slaving over your costume, sewing custom pieces, hand-crafting your prop, and spending way too much money on body makeup and a wig but when you saw the final product in the mirror, you knew it was all worth it. You were ready to slay the competition this year and take home first place for the final time.

Mason, indifferent as always about the contest but willing to do anything to keep those pictures from seeing the light of day, didn't protest one bit when you forced him into the matching costume you'd made for him -in typical Mason fashion, he liked that he didn't have to wear a shirt and could show off his muscles- and spent a few hours perfecting his makeup.

You felt on top of the world when you walked into the party that night as Gamora, a replica of her Godslayer sword in hand and skin painted a perfect shade of green, followed by your brother as Drax, already flexing for anyone and everyone looking his way. The rest of your friends came to win as well: John B and Sarah as Flynn Rider and Rapunzel, Kiara as Eleven, Pope as T'Challa, and, of course, JJ as Peter Quill, Baby Groot perched on his shoulder and twin blasters at his hips.

"Lookin' good, Gamora!" He called over the music, shimmying his way over to you with some dance moves that would impress Star-Lord himself.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Quill." You replied in a sing-song voice, even as you took his outstretched hand and let him pull you into the crowd of bodies hopping up and down to some terrible EDM beat under the twirling disco ball.

"It got you out here with me, didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes and hooked the sword to your belt before stepping closer and draping your arms around his neck, twirling your painted fingers in his hair. "Just remember, 'I know who you are, Peter Quill. And I'm not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your pelvic sorcery.'"

You should've known you spoke too soon the second you saw the spark in JJ's eyes that all but screamed 'wanna bet?'

And that's how you found yourself in the middle of the single hottest make out session you'd ever had the pleasure of participating in an hour later: back pressed against the locked door of someone's deserted office, legs wrapped tight around his waist and his hands hooked under your ass, both your sword and his blasters abandoned on the floor at his feet, and he was either a sinfully good kisser or trying really, really hard to blow your mind.

"I'm not gonna end up green after this, am I?" He mumbled against your mouth before trailing his lips along your jaw and you breathed a laugh, tightening your grip on his hair.

"This is professional makeup, dumbass. It's gonna take more than some kissing to smudge it."

"I'm down for some smudging if you are."

You pulled him back for another kiss in response and gasped into his mouth when he walked across the room, one strong arm reaching out to sweep whatever was on the desk to the floor before setting you down on it.

"Confident, are we?"

JJ smirked at your breathless question and the way you hooked your ankles around the backs of his thighs to pull him closer. "So is that a yes to the smudging?"

"Just shut up and kiss me."

He did -very well, you might add- and you kissed him back, untangling your hands from his hair to slide them under his jacket instead; you helped him push it off his shoulders and it had barely hit the ground along with poor Baby Groot before your fingers were tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants.

"Someone's impatient." He teased, leaning back just far enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it somewhere behind you.

"Someone doesn't know how to stop talking." You whispered your reply low in his ear and then trailed your lips down his neck, smiling in satisfaction at the tremble in his voice when you kissed the purple mark you'd left behind earlier.

"N-never was very good at that."

"'You should've learned.'"

"'I don't learn, it's one of my issues.'"

One of his hands gripped your wig, pulling your head back a little roughly -you'd have so been into that if it had been your real hair he pulled- and you winced at the way the bobby pins holding it it place tugged painfully at your roots. "Ow, not so hard!"

"Wait, what the fuck? I thought you were wearing a wig!"

"I am but it's still pinned to my actual hair!"

"Sorry, but how the hell was I supposed to know that?"

The sight of JJ's face slowly turning red made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire and so you just shook your head, mumbling "don't worry about it," before pressing your lips to his once again. He was gentler this time with the pulling and you dug your nails into his bare shoulders at the thrill of his mouth against the exposed column of your throat, leaning back further and further until you laid flat on the desk.

His fingers had just unbuttoned your pants when your phone started to ring from your pocket, blaring the Star Wars theme you had set as your twin's ringtone.

"Mason's timing is impeccable," JJ said sarcastically, chuckling as you clamped a palm over his mouth and answered the call.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Jesus, no need to be pissy!" Mason loudly replied over the applause crackling through the phone's speaker. "I just thought you'd like to know that we just won best group costume with Maybank. Again."

The blond winked at the mention of his last name and pulled your hand away from his mouth, pinning it to the desk beside you with one of his while the other started tugging your pants down over your hips.

"Oh, that's cool, Mase-" You inhaled sharply when his lips touched the edge of your underwear, so close to where you wanted him most but at the same time so far away, and your fingers held your phone in a white-knuckled grip. "But I-I'm kind of in the middle of doing someone -something!- right now."

"Smooth," JJ said, not even trying to be quiet as he released your pinned hand to finish pulling your boots off, along with your tight leather pants that he casually tossed aside. "And I knew you weren't green under these!"

Your laugh quickly turned into a gasp when his fingers hooked under your panties and pulled those off, too, and the touch of his tongue against the skin of your inner thigh sent white-hot lightning racing through your veins; the phone slipped from your grip, falling with a clunk onto the desk as your fingers tangled in his hair and he lifted one of your knees over his shoulder.

"Okay, I'm hanging up now! I already know you're getting laid but I don't need to hear it." Mason's loud grumble drifted up through the speaker and if you weren't so preoccupied with the boy between your thighs doing some downright wicked things to you with his mouth, you might've noticed that your brother didn't actually sound that grumpy before he ended the call and your phone's screen went dark, right as you lost control of your voice.

"Fuck me."

"Funny, I thought that's what I was doing?" You felt more than heard his response against you and a shiver ran down your spine when his bright blue eyes flicked up to met yours in the dim light of the office.

"You know what I meant, Maybank."

"Trust me, Y/L/N, I know. Question is: where do you want me?"

You tugged on his hair, grinning wolfishly at the way his eyes fluttered closed and a low moan rose from his throat. "Everywhere in this damn room, starting right here."

"I was hoping you’d say that.”

- Back at the party, Mason looked up and met Sarah's gaze, both of her eyebrows raised expectantly as she asked, "Well?"

He took his time slipping his phone back into his pocket before giving her a quick nod, grinning triumphantly when she immediately burst into gleeful giggles.

"Yes! I just knew they had a thing for each other! Mortal enemies, my ass."

"I think that was the very first time in my sister's life that she didn't give a shit about the contest." Mason said and reached over to snag a cookie from her plate, chuckling when she pushed his hand away from the chocolate chip ones and toward the peanut butter. "We couldn't have pulled this off without you. I mean, making sure they showed up in matching costumes every year? Genius, Sarah. Absolutely genius."

The blonde girl grabbed her own cookie with a wink. "Think they'll ever figure it out?"

Your brother just threw his head back and laughed. "I hope not! I wanna save that story for my best man speech at their wedding."

taglist: @sinkbeneathwaves @cordeliascrown @maysbanks @jjpogueprincess @jiaraendgame @alexa-playafricabytoto @sexualparkour @agirlwholovescoffee

#brickswritingchallenge #outer banks #jj maybank #obx fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #obx x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #obx fanfic

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weneedglitter · 3 years

Text

I went through @sunsetcurvecuddles ‘s whole touch-starved willie tag right before class and then wrote this instead of taking notes. Come get y’all soft willex content

read on AO3 here

The thing about being in a bad situation for a long time is that your body and mind go into survival mode. You learn what you can ask for, what you can expect, and cut down to only the most crucial systems. If you go without for long enough, you start to forget anything else was even an option.

The thing about leaving a bad situation is that it doesn’t take long for the unconscious parts of you to notice you’re safe and start making demands.

Willie never wanted for anything with Caleb. He had his skateboard, he had a place to live, he had plenty to eat. Sure, maybe he was a little lonely for companions his own age, but there were tons of people at the club willing to indulge his chatter. Caleb wasn’t the warmest person ever, but he was far from cruel to Willie.

It wasn’t until the mess with Julie’s band had opened Willie’s eyes to the lengths Caleb was willing to go to get what he wanted that Willie realized that “a little lonely” wasn’t the most appropriate term for his time at the club. The few days he spent with Alex shone brighter than the sun in his memory, and every day beside them became inky and lightless in contrast.

But Willie’s not there anymore. He’s still reeling from the knowledge that Alex came back for him, refused to leave him behind after the role, however well-meaning, that Willie had played in bringing the boys to Caleb.

Now every day has Alex, has Luke and Reggie and Flynn and the Molinas. They’re loud and gentle and indecorous and always take the time to make sure Willie’s comfortable.

They also give affection so freely Willie almost doesn’t recognize it for what it is. With Caleb, touching was a direction. If his hand landed on your shoulder, it meant you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

In retrospect, it makes sense why watching Julie drop an absent-minded kiss on Reggie’s temple in thanks for his help with her homework smacks Willie with a wave of yearning so intense he has to escape to the studio.

It doesn’t make sense, Willie thinks, sitting perched on the back of the couch. His new friends are a tactile bunch; it’s inescapable. He knows they’ve been giving him space to settle in, but they’ve welcomed him in with very literal open arms. He’s not starved for the high-fives and hand-holds and hugs they all give out like it’s as easy as breathing.

But he can’t stop replaying the tender press of Julie’s lips to Reggie’s hairline. He remembers the hug Alex gave him on the street the day of the Orpheum show and wraps his arms tightly around himself, trying to recall exactly how it felt.

Like the memory summoned him, Willie hears footsteps on the stone outside, and Alex slips through the door. Willie notes dazedly how at home he looks here.

Alex’s brow is furrowed. “Reg and Julie said you ran out in a hurry, is everything okay?”

“You know it, hot dog. Better now, though.” Willie’s voice doesn’t sound like he’s expecting, misses breezy by a mile and lands closer to desperate. He suddenly becomes aware that every muscle in his body is tense.

Alex raises both eyebrows. “Yeah, I buy that. What’s going on with you?”

Willie shrugs helplessly, or tries to. He’s still tense. “I guess I’m just realizing some stuff.”

“About… the club?” Alex asks, walking a little closer with his hands deep in his pockets. Willie nods, the out-loud acknowledgement that something’s wrong at all making the feeling stronger.

Alex steps up to sit on the back of the couch next to him, the same way the two of them sat on the bench the first day they met. Willie feels sick with how much he wants to lean into his side, rest his head on Alex’s shoulder, but he just wraps his arms tighter around himself. He feels like a coiled spring, muscles taut and ready to – to what? He doesn’t know. He wishes he could relax. His neck aches. He curls in on himself, pulling at the tight knots along his shoulderblades.

Alex moves to sling an arm around Willie, the way he does with the boys, the way Willie’s seen Reggie and Luke do more times than he can count, but Willie’s body registers the motion before his brain does and reacts without his permission. It’s not a flinch, just his muscles ratcheting impossibly tighter, but Alex still clocks it and freezes with his hand halfway through the space between them. His gaze is too intense, too searching, and Willie has to look away, tracing the floorboards with his eyes instead.

Alex slowly lowers his hand so it rests on the couch right beside Willie’s hip. If he moved his pinky an inch, it would make contact with the rough material of Willie’s shorts.

It’s not new. It’s not exciting. Alex is a very physical person, though Willie suspects it’s learned rather than natural. Willie has never been an exception to that rule; he can’t count how many times Alex has wrapped a hand around his arm to get his attention or bumped their knees together in silent communication.

It’s not new, and it’s not exciting, so it doesn’t make sense that Alex’s hand resting next to him has his blood rushing in his ears. He feels unsteady.

“What’s going on?” Alex repeats. Willie can’t seem to open his mouth to explain, but he doesn’t know what he would say even if he could. He doesn’t know what’s going on. “Shit, are you okay?”

Willie doesn’t want to say no, because he doesn’t know what’s wrong, doesn’t know why he’s not okay, but Alex must pick up on the tiniest shake of his head because he hops down from the back of the couch to plant one foot on the ground and the other knee on the cushions. His concern is growing. Willie turns his head to watch him move, stomach churning as he gets farther away but unable to reach for him. “Can I touch you?”

Willie nods vigorously before he can even think about it. Alex grips Willie’s upper arms, just above the elbow, and Willie shudders. His knees, which he didn’t realize were locked, go weak, and he slides uncontrolled down to the couch. Alex guides him to rest more securely on the cushions and sits next to him again, a little distance between them. Something in Willie aches.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asks. “And don’t try to say it’s nothing, it obviously isn’t.”

“Um,” Willie says. He doesn’t want Alex to think he’s ignoring him, but it feels like there’s big blank spaces in the part of his brain where words go. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Alex replies. He’s too far away, Willie thinks. It would be easy to reach out. Alex would wrap him up without hesitation. Willie doesn’t move.

“Fortunately, Julie has a checklist for this kind of thing, because she’s a queen,” Alex continues. Willie’s pretty sure he would laugh at that, usually, so he huffs out a breath between dry lips. Alex leans closer again; the motion makes Willie realize his gaze has drifted away from Alex’s face again, fixated on the faded screenprint on his tshirt instead. Willie tries to drag his eyes up, but only makes it as far as Alex’s cheekbone.

“Okay,” Alex mutters. “Are you hungry?” Willie shakes his head. “Thirsty? No, okay. Tired?” He’s definitely a little tired, but that’s not the problem. “Cold?”

Now that Alex says it, his skin feels uncomfortably prickly, like he could start shivering despite the warmth of the air and both arms still clamped around his middle. “Yeah, I think that’s it. I’m too cold.” His voice comes out remarkably steady for how shaky he feels.

“Alright!” Alex says, cheered to have an answer he can take action with. “See, you gotta take care of yourself.” Willie knows Alex is better when there’s a problem with a solution right in front of him, something he can busy his hands with and see results. He looks around the room and locates a pair of blankets, snatching them up from the armchair. He puts one aside and drapes the second around Willie, leaving one arm across Willie’s shoulders. The proximity is dizzying.

“Better?” Alex asks, leaving one arm across Willie’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Willie gasps, like it was punched from him. Alex’s arm feels searingly hot even through the blanket and Willie’s shirt, his skin sensitive like the start of a fever. Maybe he really is getting sick. “Yeah, that’s better.”

It doesn’t feel better. It feels more, somehow.

Alex sees his ill-disguised discomfort and frowns, starting to pull away and give him space again. Willie almost sobs. A tiny noise escapes anyway, and Alex freezes for a second time. Then he slowly slides his arm back around Willie’s shoulders.

Willie is still so tense, it doesn’t surprise him when he starts trembling, minute shivers all over his body.

Alex wraps his other arm around Willie in a sideways hug. Willie’s teeth start chattering. “Wow,” Alex says, almost admiring, “You’re just all fucked up, huh?”

That makes Willie actually laugh a little. “I think you might be onto something there, hot dog.” He’s starting to feel lightheaded; there’s so much input, so many conflicting signals. He’s almost nauseous with how badly he wants to just slump into Alex’s embrace, let it be easy, leech off his body heat, but his muscles are wound taut on a winch outside of his control and everywhere Alex touches him it’s borderline painful.

He doesn’t know why this is happening. He doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t want Alex to leave.

Like the universe is reading his thoughts, trying to find the one clear desire he can form just to yank it away, Alex starts to pull back and climb off the couch. Willie makes a tiny aborted movement to reach out and hold on. Alex still picks up on it, though.

“Hey, I’m just gonna move us around, okay? Just trust me.”

“Of course,” Willie says, too honest through his chattering teeth.

Alex takes the blanket and directs Willie to lie down on his side, spine flush with the back of the couch. He drapes the first blanket over Willie’s legs, tucking him in industriously, then squeezes onto the couch next to him and spreads the second blanket over both of them.

He shifts around so he’s lying fully on his side, facing Willie, pressed together all along their fronts. Willie’s eyes are level with his collarbone. Willie can feel the heat coming off him, the little puffs of his breath against the top of his head. He thinks he’d be dizzy if he wasn’t lying down. With the couch and the blanket and Alex in front of him, taking up his whole field of view, he feels surrounded, held on all sides. It’s so warm. He’s still shivering, muscles still tightly drawn, but the warmth of the safe little cave Alex has made is soaking in.

Alex slips an arm over his side, hand resting on the bare skin of Willie’s lower back where his shirt is riding up. Willie’s whole body trembles involuntarily; it feels impossibly warm, like it should be burning him, like when Alex pulls his hand away it’ll leave a mark, whirls of his fingerprints left behind on Willie’s skin.

“Is this okay?” Alex whispers. Willie nods, not trusting himself to speak with the way his breath catches on each inhale. “Stop me if it’s too much, yeah? Just tap me or something.” Alex slides his hand further around Willie’s back, under his shirt, calluses rough against his skin. He pulls Willie in so they’re pressed even closer together.

Alex’s hand spans wide over his spine, sweeping softly up and down. “It’s okay.”

That’s what does it; the tension releases like a snapping rubber band and Willie melts into Alex’s touch, locked muscles relaxing to send him slumping into Alex’s chest. His knees bend and tangle with Alex’s, forehead resting against his sternum. Alex ducks his chin to press his lips against the top of Willie’s head. “There you go.”

Willie’s breath shudders, caught between his mouth and the thin material of Alex’s tshirt. He squeezes his eyes shut. His throat feels tight, tears stinging at his eyes.

“Is this helping?” Alex asks, always checking in.

“Uh-huh,” Willie chokes out.

Alex hums and keeps lightly rubbing Willie’s back until his breathing evens out a little. Then he says, tone thoughtful, “When I figured out I was gay, I stopped touching the guys for two months.”

Willie looks up in surprise. Alex continues, “Yeah, I know, seems impossible. I just stopped initiating anything, pulled away any time Reggie or Luke were doing their thing, and eventually they stopped trying.” He laughs a little. “It was actually Bobby who talked to me about it. He said I was making Reggie think he did something wrong and I had to either cut it out or have a real good excuse.”

“What did you do?”

“Went back to the studio and sat on them.” The image makes Willie laugh. “I think they figured it out though, cause when I came out the year after I couldn’t get them off me for a week.”

Willie nods. That sounds about right. “What’s the moral of this story?”

Alex taps at his back chastisingly. “Don’t let it get this bad again, okay? You can always ask. I would do anything for you.” The mirror of Willie’s own words makes tears prickle at his eyes again, and he nods.

“Wasn’t on purpose,” Willie tries to explain. “I didn’t get any – any contact at the club, but you’re all so touchy, it should be more than enough.”

“Your tank’s empty,” Alex says. “You’ve been running on fumes for a long time, and we’re still operating at ‘be normal around the new person’ levels. You need what you need, and I can – we can give that to you.”

Alex moves his hand to run even farther up Willie’s back, finding the base of his neck with his arm still pressed hot along his spine. It’s an awkward angle but he gently digs his knuckles into the abused muscles. Willie groans. “Oh my god.”

“God,” Alex echoes. “Seriously, why didn’t you say anything? How long have you been feeling like this?”

“I don’t know,” Willie repeats, truthfully. “I think… I’ve been all fucked up for so long I didn’t even notice anymore.”

Alex moves his knuckles in a steady circle. Willie’s eyes roll up in his head. “Hhholy shit.”

Alex laughs, brushing little strands of Willie’s hair aside with his fingertips. “Willie, can I wash your hair later?”

Just the idea knocks the breath right out of him. “I might actually die.”

Alex laughs, shaking Willie with how tightly they’re pressed together. “That’s all it takes, huh.”

“You know I’m a rulebreaker. I couldn’t stand a conventional death. Here lies Willie, his boyfriend played with his hair and his soul left his mortal body.”

Alex’s hand stills. “Boyfriend?”

Willie tenses for all of a second before Alex digs his thumb back into the base of Willie’s neck and he goes limp again. “I mean – I kind of thought – if you want –”

Alex cuts him off before he can work himself up. “Chill out, you sound like me.” There’s a weird note to his voice, and Willie is startled to realize that Alex is nervous. “Boyfriend, though. I’m, yeah, I’d like that.”

“You’re into that?” Willie asks, nearly teasing.

“I’m into you,” Alex says, and Willie has to press his face into the space between Alex’s body and the couch to hide his smile.

The thing about leaving a bad situation is that you start realizing just how much you’ve been missing out on. Willie, cocooned in Alex’s arms, is learning that the thing about landing in a great situation is that you don’t have to miss out anymore.

#willie: *is hold*#willex #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #mine #willie jatp #alex mercer

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

Lost Affections: Part 3

Ayyyyoooo. Here is the last part to @marymaryroo's request!

On to the next one :)

Magic is a beautiful and powerful thing. It permeates the Devildom like an eternal fog. For the residents, it is as common as breathing. From the strongest of their kind down to the lowest inhabitants, it is integral to their culture and daily life. Mistakes and accidents happen daily with young and old alike learning or experimenting. Magical rebounds and mishaps mean very little to them, especially the brothers. From the Celestial Realms down, they have seen it all.

Sometimes they forget that to you, magic can be a volatile and dangerous.

Beelzebub

Beel would never call himself accident-prone. He didn’t trip and stumble like Belphie when sleep deprived. He most certainly wasn’t as bad as Mammon when he was without his glasses or contacts. No, he would never say he was that bad. While not clumsy he knew he could be careless, especially when food was in the picture. He didn’t think twice about eating random things. It did hurt anyone, not physically. Sure, Luke and Satan got a little put out when he swiped something, but it didn’t hurt them.

He just forgets sometimes that you are different. You and he go together so well he forgets that you aren’t a demon. You don’t have the steel stomach or fast recovery time that he has. You make up for it. When you go out to eat you always research the place ahead of time. Does the place have non-enchanted food? Human grade options? If not, you make sure that Beel has his fill before taking him somewhere more appropriate for your stomach. Neither of you thinks about residual contaminants.

His life with you unravels with kisses. It is a slow, inconspicuous death. It builds over time with each brush of his lips to yours. Neither of you notices the taste of magic clinging to his mouth or tongue, neither of you thinks of the implications of all the weird potions and food he samples.

It starts small, you forget simple things about him. When his club activities ended, or what his favorite post-game drink was. He brushes it off, it’s trivial really. You are busy and these things can happen to the best of them. He keeps brushing off the nagging worry until he can’t.

It comes to a head one night at the door to your room. “Beel?” You yawn, pulling your robes closer around you. “What’s up?” You glance down at the box of snacks and pillows in his hands. “Did I miss something?”

“It’s date night.”

Your brows shoot up, facing heating. “What.” You sputter. Beel frowns, placing the box at his feet. With slow movements, he places his hand on your forehead. You were a little warm.

“Mmmmm.” His hearts flutter with nerves. Was his little human sick? He ignores the way you stiffen when he touches you. “Do you need a doctor?” He asks bending down to look you in the eye. He catches a whiff of something when you exhale. It is faint but clings to your breath, it’s sickly sweet and sharp to his nostrils. “You need a doctor.”

Without a second thought, he grabs your arm and drags you out of your room. His food forgotten in the hallway with your protests buzzing in his ears. “Beel...Beel!” You stumble after him. He ignores you each step he takes determined and picks up speed. Before you know it you are sitting next to Gluttony in Purgatory waiting for Solomon, beyond confused and anxious.

You fidget on the couch, peeking glances at the troubled look on the red-heads face. This wasn’t like him. He was a man of few words, sure, but this was new. Beel left you to your devices mostly, a few polite conversations here and there, but you two never hung out a lot. You zone out when he starts talking to Solomon. You were still half asleep from Beel waking you up. You had been sleeping so soundly beforehand. “Are you alright?” You jerk awake unaware that you started dozing again. Solomon crouches in front of you.

“I think so?” You had no idea what this was about. “I’m just tired.” The mage says nothing to you, instead turning to glance at Beel. He jerks his head to the door, a clear signal for the old demon to wait outside.

With one last pitiful glance, Beelzebub leaves the two humans to converse. “Now then.” Solomon rounds his piercing eyes back to you. “Tell me how's your stay in the Devildom?”

You tell him confused but willing to play along with his odd request, the sooner you wrap this up the sooner you can go back to bed. An odd feeling of missing something begins to grow as you tell him. Soon you began to fumble, the harder you try to recount something the harder it was to collect. You still were convinced anything was seriously wrong but the growing look of concern on Solomon’s face was making you think otherwise. “So,” You finish rubbing your knees with sweaty palms. “I’m I dying or something?”

He laughs dismissing the notion with a wave of a well-manicured hand. “No, no your soul is still firmly in place.” He rubs his chin. “But you have lost your memory, only when it comes to Beelzebub though. It is very peculiar. Have you ingested anything weird of late? Done any experiments with Satan?” You shake your head. To the best of your knowledge, you have been really careful with your food intake while down here. Devildom foods were delicious but had potential side effects for you and Solomon.

Solomon nods. He figured that. “Could I draw some blood? It sounds to me like you might have trace contamination of some kind. Diavolo and I discussed that this might happen but I wish to double-check.” Well, that’s worrisome, you nod and begin to roll up your sleeve. Solomon bustles collecting a few vials and a mouth swab for extra measure.

“Thank you.” He smiles looking at the samples with scientific glee. “I will let you know what I find. Until then, I guess just go about your regular day. Unless you feel ill, in that case, come to me immediately.” With that, he leaves you depositing you back with Beel.

The walk back to the House was more subdued, both of you were confused as to what to do next. “So,” You flounder. “We were-are an item?”

He shrugs looking down at you. “Yes. We’d hang out in your room on Saturdays, and get brunch on Sundays... do you still want to?”

You shrug feeling awkward. You felt nothing but platonic friendship to the large demon, though Solomon did fill you in on what you apparently have forgotten. “If you want to? I’m up now, and too nervous to sleep.” Beel grunts clenching his fists at his side.

“No,” He shakes his head. “You should rest, even if you can’t sleep. This is overwhelming. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?” You feel bad. He sounds so hopeful when he asks, like a good night’s sleep was all you needed to fix whatever this was.

You reach for his big hand and squeeze it. “Sure, Beelzebub. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He lets you go watching you head back into the house. Running on instinct he turns and heads into the dense forest surrounding the house. He needed to hunt for a bit.

That’s how his twin finds him, gorging himself on the fauna of the forest. Belphie’s socked feet pad loudly over the dried grass and scattered bones of the once lush lowlands. “You know Lucifer is going to be pissed. It takes forever for the wildlife to come back after one of your benders.” He tosses his oversized pillow onto the dead grass and lays down. Belphie doses for a moment, the sound of his brother’s many mouths and whistling of wings a white noise to him. Up until an obnoxious locus landed on his nose.

“Beel.” He flicks the bug off his face, shooting the swarm coating his brother’s skin a sour look. “What’s going on?”

Forgot. Me. One of his mouths rattles out, flecks of meat and vegetation falling from between crooked and jagged teeth. Another opens near his rib cage to speak. They. Don’t. Love. Me.

“I’ll kill them.” Already Belphie is back on his feet. He feels for his brother and his plight, but the thought that you betrayed him after you promised to never hurt Beel took precedence. The storm of bugs goes quiet, all the millions of eyes now turn to him. They jerk and twitch in unison before converging back on the mass of leathery gaunt skin of his brother. His human form takes shape slowly, shiny wings and many mandibled skulls melding together to create his flesh.

Beel grabs Belphie’s shoulders. His claws dig into the soft fabric of his nightshirt. “It’s not their fault.”

“Then who?” Beel chuckles weakly at his brother’s blood lust. He couldn’t deny that he felt it too, but he had no idea where to channel this anger.

So he ate. It calmed him a little. If he could get into the village and eat there...no. The last time he siphoned the emotions from the populous at large Lucifer got mad. The whole of the Devildom had to shut down for a good week to recover. He rubs his stomach a feeling of agitation growing in the pits of them. “Don’t know. Solomon is taking a look at it.” Belphie snorts a sneer growing on his lips. “He is helping, Belphie.”

“Sure-right. That boy meddles in all shorts of shit he shouldn’t. Careful he doesn’t try to bargain with your skin for this.” He eyes where your mark rests on his brother. It would be a perfect lure to entrap his twin in a pact.

Hmm.

No, none of this would do. Belphegor would rather die than let some human-like Solomon meddle anymore in his family’s affairs, and as far as he was concerned the moment you started seeing Beel you were as another sibling. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the house. I’ll bring dinner up to our room.”

After settling Beel under the covers of his massive bed Belphie went on the hunt for more food in the kitchen. He stops by your bedroom door picking up the box of goodies still left in front of it. He piles more things into the box when he reaches the kitchen. Swiping up snacks at random Belphie piles the box sky high. His hand stops over a few of your favorite human snacks. Should he? Honestly, it was a blind shot in the dark if it would comfort his brother or not. After a bit more debate Belphie puts the chocolates back, a different idea already turning in his head.

Back in their shared room, he listens to his brother run down the last week between huge bits of sweets. As he recounts every little thing that has gone down they both began to notice just how strange you have been. Both twins sit in the aftermath of Beel’s words, a wasteland of wrapper and silence stretching between them. “Think it will come back?” The twins lock eyes, Beel’s large and unsure but simmering with foolish hope.

“Possibly.” Belphie grits out, breaking their eye contact. He could never lie to his brother, at least not to his face. “Get some rest. I’m sure someone will have a plan in motion by tomorrow.” He’ll set his plans in motion tonight.

Lying in wait some hours later Belphie listens through the walls of the massive house for your quick little human heartbeat in your bedroom. He matches his shallow breaths with yours feeling yourself slip into slumber and his realm. Once you are completely under he drifts off himself.

He enters your dreams and scowls unused to stumbling inside of a dreamscape. Your dreams are muddled and clotted with stick webs of confusion and hazy memories. Odd bits and pieces of images drip around the edges of your mind. This place was a disgusting mess. With a deep sigh, Belphie begins trudging through the quagmire.

He peers around making note of the black holes in your mind like canvas ripped from their frames. Rotten magic assaults him from all sides. Stopping in front of a particularly deep gash in your mind he rolls up his oversized sleeves finding what he was looking for. He knew this memory was in it, just on the outskirts of the scene playing out. He could knit this rip back together easily, after that it should give him some clarity on the others he couldn’t place.

This was going to take a lot of energy. No one would notice if he stole some energy to get things started. Belphie smiles to himself already tapping into Lucifer's dreamscape, taking a bit more than he needed. You deserve only the best after all.

__________________

“Morning everyone.” You chirp plopping down in your chair. The brothers reply with groggy acknowledgments, completely unlike themselves. You look around at the bunch. “Are you all ok?” The group grunts collectively yawning or rubbing their weary eyes.

“Tough night.” Lucifer looks up from his newspaper. He was half-dead in his chair, a cup of coffee shaking in his hands. Asmo sits beside him looking on the verge of tears as he gently pokes his swollen cheeks and eyelids. The only two that seem to even be remotely coherent were the twins. The youngest of the two sleeping oblivious to the turmoil of his siblings while his brother stares at your every move. “Good morning Beel.” You nod feeling awkward in this shared space.

“Morning.” He smiles at you, a few crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth. Something ticks in the back of your mind at his look. A foggy image comes to mind. It feels like a dream, but so real at the same time. It makes you nauseous, a weird sense of dejavu fighting its way to the forefront. “You ok?” He puts a hand on your shoulder.

You blink noticing the room at large turning their gaze to you. You nod, reaching across from him for some leftover food. The moment a bowl of cereal was in your hands Asmo swept you up in a conversation about his “fading” looks. You don’t think of Beel and your predicament for the rest of the day, not until Solomon invites you over to his hall for tea.

“You were poisoned.” He states simply over his sorry excuse of scones. You pause in the middle of trying to break a piece off on the table.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing to apologize for, unless you did it intentionally.” He laughs. “It appears to be through slow ingestion over a long period of time. The levels in your blood are staggering but not lethal. It looks like the magic took root in the temporal lobe-much like a tumor, really quite fascinating- and has been eating away at the memories of the person, or in this case, a demon that poisoned you.” Beel had been poisoning you? Solomon waves his hand at your look of concern. “I am quite positive that it was not intentional. Mind you he does find the most wondrous things to shovel down his gullet. The fact that it mixed perfectly into a potion instead of a lethal toxic is sheer dumb luck on your end.” You breathe a sigh of relief finally tossing the baked good away as a bad job. Well that's...something. At least you’d be alive to stumble around your apparent “forgotten boyfriend”.

“Any chance of fixing this?”

Solomon shrugs. “Possibly? I need more time to figure out exactly what components are involved in your test results. Then making a tonic to undo all the magic is another thing entirely.”He discusses a few other options with you for a few hours, going over in great detail the ins and outs of potion-making. Soon the windows of the sunroom grew dark, the glow of the lamps outside growing brighter so you could see the pathway back to the house.

“I better head back.” You stretch looking out into the pitch outside. Hmmm, if you remember correctly Levi should be off of work by now. He said to call when he was done to come to pick you up. As if on cue a sharp knock on the door disrupts you. Instead of a shock of blue hair, you are greeted with orange. “Oh-hey Beel.”

“Hey.” The corner of his mouth twitches in a facsimile of a friendly smile. “Ready to go?” He picks up your forgotten school bag and takes your sweater from the coat rack. With a well-practiced motion, he slings the bag over his shoulder and holds your sweater open for you. He obviously did this a lot before…

You stare back wide-eyed at Solomon who only smirks, nodding at you to hurry up.

Out the door and into the chilly night you sneak a peek at Beelzebub walking quietly beside you. He catches your look and raises a brow. “Sorry.” You feel your cheeks heat a little under his thoughtful gaze.

“About?”

“All of this.” You wave at yourself. “Please don’t feel obligated to hang out with me. Until we can get this settled. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Beel grunts, stopping in his tracks by a low garden wall. “I was hurt-am still hurting.” He admits. “But this isn’t your fault, so what good does it do to blame you for it? Even if you don’t remember me as your partner, you still remember me as a friend...right?” A warm smile spreads across his face when you nod. “Then I’m ok with this. I haven’t lost you completely and even if you don’t ever feel the same way about me anymore, I think I will be ok.”

“I- thank you Beel. That means a lot.”

“Of course.” He hums. “Let’s head back. I think Asmo left some food out.”

You dream of Beel again, a weird amalgamation of scenes all tossed together in a great pile with you in the middle of it. You could do nothing but watch like a film as they rush by you in a blur. Some scenes didn’t line up right, bouncing around like a scratched vinyl, but it still made sense in a way only a dream could. You play out each dream like an actor, the script coming to you naturally with each little venette. You sit outside his locker room, a basket of food and drink in your lap, your heart fluttering in your chest. You and Beel were watching his brothers on the beach, his broad hands rubbing sunscreen into your skin. Beel walking you back to your room after a long night in the library holding your hand in his strong, sure grip. Saturday afternoons spent hopping from one cafe to the next sampling the sweets and drinks to both of your heart's content.

It grips your heart but slips away with the rise of the young morning moon.

When morning comes the night is nothing more than a few smudges in your mindscape. Yet, a light, sweet feeling stays with you. You found yourself smiling more around the redhead and gravitating to him during the day. He accepts you back with a friendly hug and a friendly ear.

He treats you no differently than you remember. It’s nice. Even if a part of your yearns to see how he treated you when you were more than friends.

You begin to get excited for when your head hits your pillow. The dreams become clearer and clearer each night. Some new pieces show up and fall into place as the weeks progress. You start seeing bits of your dreams in the day too. After-images of you hand in hand with him walking down the other side of the street. The taste of something sweet on your tongue or a familiar scent in your nose.

After one particularly vivid dream, you wake determined not to let the contents of this dream slip through your fingers. This time you dreamt of the kitchen, dirty bowls, and units scattered about the cluttered counters. You had been baking something, and failing miserably.

Sneaking down to the kitchens you pull out all the things you could remember. For some reason, this dream lit a fire in you, like it was the last piece of the puzzle to getting it all back. You don’t think, instead, you just let your body take control. You baked a cake.

Well, it was supposed to be a cake. The center was too spongy and collapsed inward while the sides were dark and cracked. The icing was badly blended and melting from the still-warm pastry. It was almost exactly like the one from your dream.

You stare at it waiting for some great revelation, but nothing comes. Great. Now what?

“I smell food.”

“Gods!” You jerk smacking your knee on your bar stool. Beel’s deep voice scaring you half to death. “Should put a bell on you.” You grin. Beel peeks his head through the door brows furrowed.

“This is familiar.” He walks in pulling up another chair to sit next to you.

“Ye?” You look back at him.

“Yes. This was our first kiss.” You drop your icing spoon. “You wanted to surprise me before a big game.” He put a finger through the thick black and purple icing and pops it in his mouth. “Ah- You forgot the bane extract...I had thought that perhaps you remembered.” The hope in his voice stung your chest.

Oh. You look down at the mess you made, whatever feelings of satisfaction are lost. “I thought I was forgetting something, but my dreams are all blurry.”

“Dreams?” Beel pauses reaching for a slice. “You dreamt of this?”

“Yes. Been dreaming about you a lot of late.” You flush. “Little things that are starting to build a bigger picture. I just had this dream of a cake and the urge to make one...so- here we are.” You wave your hand out over the messy kitchen. Sighing plopping your chin down on your palm. “Guess I can sleep on it a bit more huh?” You shoot him a quick wink and sad smile.

“Or just ask Belphie.” He shrugs, taking another large slice of the disaster. “Sounds like he’s been meddling.” That realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Damn, you could have slapped yourself. “I’m sure he meant well, but he shouldn’t force you if you don’t want to. I could tell him to stop.”

What! No! You shake your head. “No. I-I don’t mind it. Solomon has yet to figure anything out, and whatever your brother is doing seems to be helping a little.” Beelzebub said nothing to that and just continued to eat while you started the dishes.

“Do you want to end tonight like we did before?” He asks sometime later, half of the dishes now drip drying in the rack. His long arms box you in on either side holding on to the lip of the sink. His head dips low, his chin resting on the top of your head. Deep down you knew that you could leave at any time. His grip was loose and easily breakable, considerate as ever to your comforts.

You turn to face him, a soft look crosses his face. “And how did it end?” He grins moving closer. You would have to thank Belphie for his interference. Just, perhaps later. You doubted he would want to be in your dreams tonight.

#obey me fan fic #obey me beel x mc #obey me beelzebub #fan fic requests #obey me fandom #obey me

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