#and his legs are crossed on a porch swing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seresinhangmanjake · 4 months ago

Text

Come Back Knockin'

Benny Cross x reader (the bikeriders fic)

Summary: When Benny finds out you're pregnant, he panics and takes off. You don't think he's ever going to come back to you, so you start trying to figure out your future without your husband by your side. And then one day, there's a knock at your door.

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free*, lots of cursing, mentions of abandonment, angst but not forever, mention of pregnancy, probably typos.

Words: 2900

Part 2: Come Back Together Benny Cross Masterlist

“Benny, where are you going!” you cry, watching in disbelief as he turns away from you and exits your shared bedroom. “Benny!”

He doesn’t stop at your call. Doesn’t even flinch. Your voice is a pathetic grasp around his wrist that he shakes off like a pesky mosquito. He’s leaving, you realize, and when your body finally catches up with that understanding, you rush after him.

His strides are long, double the length of yours, and he’s already got his jacket off the hook and is pulling it over his shoulders by the time you’re able to close in on him.

“Benny, don’t go!” you wail in a desperate plea, but it’s still useless, and a moment later you’re chasing him out the front door into the rain. “Please!”

You’re both drenched in an instant, hair stuck to your heads like a pair of drowned alley cats. Your nipples pebble through your thin, white nightgown that now shows every curve of your figure. The denim on his body deepens a few shades of blue from absorbing every drop of the downpour.

“Benny!” you try once more.

He doesn’t so much as glance over his shoulder as he crosses the street toward his bike, so you stop your chase before your bare feet leave the last step of your front porch. All you can do is watch. Watch his long leg swing over the seat of the bike. Watch him kick the beast to life. Watch how he glows angelic-like under the intense ray of the streetlight; a spotlight on the man you love who is running away from you.

You don’t bother calling for him again. Your voice would only be muffled by the relentless drumming of heavy rain on pavement. Benny leans forward, and without checking for other vehicles, pulls into the street and drives until the darkness of night claims every speck of light from his bike.

He’s gone.

And you’re alone.

—

You hadn’t expected him to be overjoyed by the news—it’s why you waited nearly three weeks to tell him—but you didn’t foresee such anger over the actuality of being a father. When you told him you were pregnant, his face had darkened in a manner you’ve only witnessed right before his fist meets the jaw of a rival biker. And, in some respect, he'd treated you the same. Like you were a pest, a nuisance, an object put in his path solely for the sake of pissing him off; the difference being that Benny would never lay a hand on you. So instead, he'd left.

On day three of your husband’s absence, Johnny had stopped by to ‘see if the kid was still alive,’ and you were left with the burden and embarrassment of telling him that Benny had skipped town. Johnny had asked why, of course, so you told him, and by the way his features twisted from surprise to desolation, you knew he also saw little hope in your husband returning to you.

Benny has had his reasons for not wanting to be a father, failure a prominent knot in the back of his mind, but it’s not as if you planned this. It was an accident. An accident that you can’t just wish away because he doesn’t know how to handle being what you and this baby need him to be.

“I’m real sorry, sweetheart,” Johnny had said. You’d done your best to hold in the tears while long beats of melancholy silence passed between you. “Listen, you ever need anythin’, you know Betty and me, we love ya, so…”

You’d nodded, wrapping your arms around your middle to stave off a sudden chill. “Thanks, Johnny.”

He nodded as well, then he'd sighed and glanced around your quiet street as if expecting to see Benny ride up any second. “Well,” he said once it was clear neither of you would be finding that relief, “don’t be a stranger.”

He’d left after that and you haven’t seen him since. Not because you don’t appreciate him, but because he reminds you too much of Benny. Betty had called a few times—she’s as much a mother figure to you as Johnny was to Benny—but you weren’t very forthcoming with enthusiasm at talking baby plans and motherhood. At one point, in an effort to lift your spirits, she’d even mentioned throwing a shower, which immediately made you drop the phone and rush to the bathroom to lose your breakfast.

When you’d returned, the phone was dangling by the coiled cord, Betty’s concerned voice coming through the speaker. You’d put it up to your ear, told her you'd call her back, and hung up the damn thing. You didn’t call her back. You think she got the message.

In the weeks that have passed, many of the guys have come by to check on you, and in the beginning, you were somewhat receptive, but it was solely to abstain from hurting feelings and severing ties so harshly. You’re positive the relationships won’t last. You were in the biker lifestyle because of Benny. He brought you into a pre-established family unit, and without him, you don’t belong.

You know the day may come when you regret letting the club go. Its members are the only people who have reached out their hands to you, but for now, you’re too numb to care, and with that numbness comes self-destruction. And with your particular brand of self-destruction comes isolation. Solitude. Loneliness. You’ve put yourself in place to navigate the future alone. Finding a job to support your child, hoping you’ll make enough so you don’t lose your house—that’s your priority now, and you have no choice but to step up and figure it out.

—

As it turns out, no one wants to hire a pregnant woman. Well, no one you’ve contacted wants to hire a pregnant woman, but you’re willing to bet they’re a decent indicator of most companies' future rejection.

It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t be telling them of your condition, but your bones are built of honesty and when they ask if you’ll be able to work long-term, you don’t hesitate to reveal the truth. In fact, the truth is out of your mouth before the thought to lie slithers into your head.

You’re going to have to toughen up, be someone you’re not used to being, if you intend to survive. And that’s all you let yourself think about anymore. When Benny slips into your thoughts, you work tirelessly to shove him aside. It’s taken practice, self-discipline, but you’ve made some progress. Just yesterday you were finally able to overcome your urge to run to the window at hearing the grumble of a motor passing by your house.

The next goal is to bag up his clothes and stow them away in the attic, but you’ve yet to face his side of the closet without breaking down. And to make it all the more agonizing, the fabrics still smell like him. You could wash them five times over and it would do nothing to remove his scent.

Sometimes, at the peak of your pathetic impulses, you want to sneak inside and bury yourself amongst the cheap and tattered clothes. Turn them into a blanket. Forget everything. But you’ve managed to resist.

Baby steps, you internally repeat as you bring a spoonful of cereal to your lips. You like the sugary stuff now. The stuff that kids gobble down before school. Bad for an expectant mother, yes, but you’re not about to scold yourself for what little enjoyment you find in this life.

Suddenly, a knock taps on the door. Your head shoots up and your heartbeat stutters at the sound, but you don’t move to answer it. These days, it’s rare you answer it at all. The guys know not to bother you, as do Betty and Gail and Kathy. If they see you’re home, they leave their tupperware-filled home-cooked meals at your doorstep, knowing you’ll grab them once they leave. Anyone else—salesmen or mailmen or whomever—always gives up after a few minutes.

However, this knocking has yet to cease. It must be a salesman, you think with a groan, and he must not have gotten the memo from other neglected salesmen that you’re a house to avoid. You can’t afford the latest vacuum model, you don’t care to own a stack of encyclopedias, and for the love of god, if you have to tell one more well-dressed man that your missing-in-action biker husband is not in need of a new shaving brush you’re gonna start keeping Benny’s handgun on the entryway table.

The tapping turns into full-fledged banging that shakes the house, and now you’re irritated, offended on the weathered structure’s behalf. Your chair scrapes across the floor as you stand sharply and round the corner into the hall. A curse is on your lips as you wrap your hand around the knob, twist, and pull, but it dies. More than dies, it’s sucked right out of your lungs along with your breath.

You want to slap him, split his puffy lips and watch the blood run down his chin. You want to shove him back so he’ll fall down the stairs and land on his ass. You want to get your breath back because that curse is clawing for freedom and you desperately want to let it out. But you can’t. You’re frozen.

He looks like shit. Well, as much as Benny Cross can look like shit, which is quite unimpressive compared to other men, but at least he doesn’t look well-rested. There’s some satisfaction in that, limited as it may be.

“Hi, baby,” he says. The low tone shudders your spine. If he’s happy to see you he doesn’t show it, but you know that even if he is, he wouldn’t dare smile after what he did.

Your swallow is hard, painful, and as the ease with which he spoke those two words sinks in, every emotion you’ve felt since he vanished bubbles over the edge of your resolve.

“‘Hi, baby’?” you echo. “Are you serious? That’s the best you’ve got, you asshole?” Your hand smacks against his chest and the unexpectedness of it forces him to stumble back a foot. You follow his stumble, stepping out onto the porch. “It’s been six weeks, Benny!”

He sighs, holding his hands up in surrender. “I know.”

“Six fucking weeks!” With your second smack, his fingers latch around your wrist, but he doesn’t push your hand away, he keeps it planted above his heart, refusing to let you go.

Dipping his head, he stares directly into your eyes. The intensity momentarily stuns you. “I know,” he repeats.

“Oh, you know,” you say, trying to jerk out of his grasp. “You abandon your pregnant wife and you think knowing that you’ve done it means a damn thing to me? Fuck off!”

“No,” he calmly replies.

“Yes!” you bark.

“No.”

Tears begin to cloud your vision. He disappeared and broke your heart at the worst possible time and now that you don’t want him here, he refuses to leave. And how horrible, how fucking humiliating to have your husband dismiss your desires so flippantly.

“I hate you!” you snap.

“I love you.”

“You left!”

“I panicked.” His free hand lands on your shoulder and slides up your neck to cup your cheek. “I panicked, baby,” he says softly.

That gentle tone pierces your skin against your will and seeps into your veins, spreading throughout your body a sedating sensation. Just enough of the drug to slow your violent pulse without knocking you out completely. And in the absence of such potent rage, sorrow takes over.

Your bottom lip quivers. Salty drops create lines down your cheeks and drip off your chin onto the rotting floorboards beneath your feet. He was supposed to replace those. It was going to be a summer project but a month and a half has already been carved out of the season and the floorboards still bow under your weight.

“Why were you allowed to panic?” you whimper. “I didn’t get to panic, so how come you got to?”

He sighs, his calloused thumb stroking your cheek. He doesn’t have a response but you didn’t expect one, at least not one with any substance, so you continue. “You know what I’ve been doing while you were out panicking? Trying to find a job so I can afford this house and provide for our child the way a parent should. But no one’s been willing to hire me.”

Benny’s brow pinches and his grip on your hand tightens. Broad shoulders fall forward as if you've just placed a few hefty boulders upon them.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he breathes. “I’m sorry. I shoulda been protecting you from those kinds of worries. I shoulda been here.”

“Well, you weren't.”

“I'm gonna be,” he tells you, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe that you believe him. “I am.”

You wish you could trust his word. You wish it was that simple. You wish you were more forgiving, but a situation conflicting enough to require this level of forgiveness is not something you’ve dealt with before. You’ve experienced loss in your life, and you know it well—your father left and your mother disengaged from motherhood, but neither were so rude as to put you in a place to contemplate forgiveness for their betrayal. Neither came back to request it.

“Will you wait here?” he asks, “and not lock me out when my back is turned? Please?”

You’re severely tempted to do just that because, frankly, he’s made you wait for him long enough. But for some reason, you don't. You cast your gaze aside, cross your arms, and after a couple of seconds, nod your head.

In your peripherals, you detect his light smile. Then he turns, walks back to his bike, and wrestles a brown paper-wrapped package out of the pack attached to his seat.

“What is this?” you ask as he returns to the porch and offers it to you.

“If I was just going to tell you then why would I have wrapped it?”

You almost roll your eyes at the image of Benny taking the time to wrap anything for anyone, as normally he’d enlist someone else (you) to do it, but looking at it, it really is a poorly packaged mess. Wrinkled and ripped in one spot, with a lop-sided bow tied from the string that’s holding the parcel together. Definitely Benny-quality work for this sort of task.

As you tear through the wrapping, Benny collects your scraps, balling the shredded paper together and setting that ball down on the porch railing. The small blanket in your hands is made of bright green fabric with fringed trim, and when you unfold it, hanging it high to get a look at the full thing, you see a white duckling embroidered into one of the corners.

You lower the blanket so you can meet Benny's eyes. “Why a duck?”

He sticks his hands in his front pockets and shrugs. “They didn't have any with little Harley’s,” he teases.

To your great internal shame, you have to choke down a chuckle. His innocent joke instantly reminds you that he’s the one man who can make you laugh, the one who won you over because of his subtle wittiness and his less subtle charm. And now you fucking miss him, damn it. You’d convinced yourself you’d gotten over that, but even as he stands within touching distance, holding distance, kissing distance, you miss him.

He clears his throat. “Um…if you don't like it I can–”

“No,” you stop him, shaking your head. “I don't particularly like you at the moment, but…” You exhale and give the gift another glance. “I like the blanket.”

Benny nods. His adam’s apple bobs harshly in his throat as you refold the blanket and clutch it to your chest.

“You think you could like me again one day?” he asks. “You know, if I prove myself real well.”

Your eyes narrow as they flick up to his ocean blues. “Prove yourself as what?”

“A husband,” he says. “A father.”

A husband. A father. One of which he’s been good at in the past—prior to the disappearing act, of course—and one of which you used to believe he’d be good at in the future if that was where fate led you, which it has. But…you don't know.

You have two options. That’s it. Yes or no. Can you risk it or not? It’s a lot to take in but the reality is, there’s a question you must answer before you can answer any others—did the bomb he threw at your lives shatter your heart to an unmendable state?

You chew on your cheek, your jaw ticks, and then with a huff, you straighten your spine.

“You can never do this again,” you declare firmly, poking your index finger into the center of his chest. “I mean it, Benny. If you do, we won't be here when you come back.”

The ropes of rigidness unravel from his body. “Baby, this is where I wanna be,” he says, stepping into your space once more. “I promise.”

You can feel your heartbeat jackrabbiting from his closeness now that your overwhelming emotions have somewhat subsided.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” you tell him.

Benny grins. “That's fair.”

---

maybe a part 2? Let me know :)

Updated Taglist (if you wanna join)

#benny cross x reader #benny cross #the bikeriders #austin butler #the bikeriders fic #benny cross fic

1K notes · View notes

darylssunshine · 6 months ago

Text

Surprise

Summary: Daryl found something for you on a supply run.

Genre: Fluff (suggestive at the end)

Era: Prison

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: @emo-daryl mentioned something about wanting a fic about Daryl with an emo gf, and it made me think of this :3 also I 100% abuse the nickname "sunshine"

Your ears perked up at the sound of Daryl's motorcycle coming down the dirt path and entering the gates of the prison. With a soft thunk, you put your knife that you were fidgeting with down on the nearby side table and practically skipped down the steps of your front porch towards the entrance of the group's shared domicile.

Daryl had always been the first person to volunteer to go on runs, whether it be for food, medicine, clothing, or some other necessity. It was most definitely because of his natural good-hearted nature, always ready and willing to help those around him. He would never say that, however. It would ruin his “big tough guy” persona that he had carefully curated during the past several months that your group had been together.

But that facade didn't work on you. You saw right through him.

You two had gotten together back at Hershel's farm, and had been inseparable ever since. It had started with lingering glances while sitting around the shared bonfire, roasting squirrels or whatever you had on hand. He had nonchalantly handed you a piece of the rodent that he was currently devouring, not even turning to you to look you in the eyes. You were taken aback by the gesture, especially since you had already had some of the now regarded delicacy earlier. You took the meat from him, breathing out a soft “Oh. Thanks.” He grunted in response, and that was that. This was now becoming a nightly occurrence, except his gaze would linger on you more and more until eventually you would start having laid back conversations by the fire. Those conversations would then turn into him coming into your cell later in the night, explaining the situation away by saying he wanted to continue a specific conversation that you two were having. Those nightly conversations in your cell shrouded in the darkness of the night sky then turned into confessions, then to silencing your whimpers as to not wake the rest of the group with your nefarious antics. It didn't completely work, though. The day after, Carol had approached Daryl with a smirk on her face. All she got in response was a mumbled “Shut up.” Before he ducked his head in embarrassment, hiding the red blossoming on his cheeks.

His motorcycle rumbled to a halt as he moved the kickstand out with his foot, carefully leaning it to the side and swinging his leg out to hop off. It was a motion that didn't even require a second thought, something that was natural to him. You thought that he was hot while riding his motorcycle. You hadn't told him such information, but he knew.

You were the first person he greeted when his feet hit the dirt path below him. Enthusiastically, you threw your arms around him, even though he had only been gone a day. “Hey, sunshine.” He spoke lovingly after pulling away from the hug, punctuating the greeting with a kiss on the nose.

He was tasked with finding more perishables, and it seemed like he had succeeded, with the sound of the contents of his bag clunking together. He lugged it off of the back of the motorcycle and handed it off to Rick for him to store in the kitchen, the latter giving Daryl a quick brotherly side hug as a thank you.

Daryl then walked back over to you, almost eagerly, you noticed. The look in his eyes was glowing and he had a slight smirk on his face. You liked what you saw.

“What's got you all peppy?” You prodded, gazing into the love of your life's eyes. You leaned back on the white wall of the house and crossed your arms, enjoying the light breeze. He stopped about a couple inches in front of you and started peppering your face in kisses. You erupted in a fit of giggles, not expecting that in the slightest. “Well, hi there.” You breathed, ducking your head and covering your mouth to hide your wide smile. Who knew the fiery hick that you met a couple months ago could grow into one of the most romantic men you've ever encountered. “Missed ya.” He said matter-of-factly, but still gazing into your eyes.

“And, found somethin’ for ya. Know you've been wantin’ it. Close yer eyes.” Your eyebrow raised in response and you stared at him for a couple moments, but you did as you were told and shut your eyes. Your smile widened a bit more as you felt Daryl's calloused hands take your right hand, kiss the top side, then turn your palm upwards. You then felt something be placed in the palm of your hand. Glass? You thought. You felt the warmth of Daryl's hands leave yours and he spoke again. “Open ‘em.”

When your eyelids opened back up, your eyes immediately landed on the unopened black nail polish in your hand. You lit up. “No way. No way! Oh my god! Where did you get this? Oh my god!” Your sentences were flowing out of your mouth at a rapid pace, and some of the other members of the prison even turned to look at you in confusion, but you didn't particularly care. Daryl's smirk got wider seeing your reaction to the polish. “You were complainin’ about not bein’ able to paint yer nails. Stopped by a drug store and that section wasn't raided.” He spoke proudly and full of love, now leaning his arm against the side of the house, looking down at your excited form. “Holy shit thank you, thank you, thank you!” You gripped the polish tightly in your fist as to not drop it and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, interlocking your fingers behind his neck. After almost tripping backwards from the force of your lunge, Daryl then placed his hands on your hips with a chuckle. It was your turn to return the kiss, and it was full of longing, even if it lasted for only a couple seconds. You pulled away and looked at him warmly, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Thank you. Truly. You really do listen.” You snickered. He responded with a raised eyebrow, moving his head down for emphasis. “Fuck yeah, I do. What kinda shitty husband would I be if I didn't?”

—

“I can't believe ya talked me into this.” Daryl huffed as he rested his chin on his palm, the other arm outstretched, his nails getting coated in a thin layer of black polish. “Dar, this is your own fault.” You teased, not looking up from your work, not wanting it to be too messy. “Besides, now we match!” He simply rolled his eyes in response, a small upward tick of a smile forming on his face. He admired your face while you were concentrated, your brows furrowed as you bit slightly at your bottom lip. Admittedly, he liked the feeling of being pampered and the coolness of the polish growing on his nails. It was relaxing, and he was about to start resting his eyes before he heard you speak again.

“Aaannnddd… done!” You twisted the brush wand back into its place and sat back on the kitchen chair to admire your work. An excited smile appeared again on your face as you wiggled your polished covered fingers near Daryl's. He lifted his hand in front of his eyes to examine them. “Y'know, this ain't look too bad.” He said, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Nice work, sunshine.”

In a boost of confidence, he then reached over to where you were sitting and held your chin with pointer finger and thumb, guiding your head to look up and lock eyes with him. Your breath hitched.

“You got some pretty little hands now. I got a few ideas on how ta use ‘em.”

Oh God. This is going to be a long night.

#daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #daryl twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction

920 notes · View notes

https-florals · 6 months ago

Text

daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck.

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.”

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek.

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside.

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!”

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three).

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it.

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing.

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that.

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,”

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water.

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line.

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp.

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support.

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds.

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it.

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands.

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger.

It’s probably his favorite possession.

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

“Hey,” you whine, reaching for his hand.

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue.

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his.

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash.

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand.

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine.

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head.

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut

511 notes · View notes

mydearlybeloathed · 10 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after rejecting a boy in your hometown, he goes around spreading rumors about you and him. luckily, you have full faith in your wizard boyfriend, who just so happens to be coming back form his fancy wizard school in just a few days.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: remus lupin x gn!muggle!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: gender neutral reader, a menace old lady, scarlet letter allusion, several random muggles

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: my boyfriend's back

It was laughable really, for Ben Waters to think your boyfriend would believe any of the lies he’d spread around town. You had full faith in Remus, your super cool wizard boyfriend who could totally crush Ben into next week.

Still, the whispers all around that snobby little town were starting to get to you.

“Did you hear…?”

“Don't they have that boyfriend, though?”

“With Ben? Really?”

“Just wait till Remus hears…”

Just wait indeed. The sooner he got back from his fancy wizard school, the sooner you could kiss him in front of all the kids who think they’re so cool. In front of Ben even, the man of the hour, who’d done all of this just because you rejected him.

It was all so laughable.

That's what you thought as you sank deeper into your seat at the local diner. A group of your school mates whispered at the opposite booth.

So, so laughable, that it wasn’t very funny at all.

Remus would be back in three days. You could last another three days of this little letter ‘A’ Ben branded you with.

In the meantime, you could continue to practice on Remus’ skateboard he left behind, maybe go by his place to see his parents, or hide out in your room for seventy two hours.

You inevitably chose the last option, and soon the day of Remus’ return arrived.

His train from Hogwarts should’ve stopped at King’s Cross Station an hour ago, and the short train from there to home was probably a few minutes away.

You were just swinging a leg over your bike to go wait for Remus at his house, maybe have tea with his dad in the meantime, when the voice of your sweet old neighbor called you back. Mrs. Ketburn hobbled down her porch steps, waving with a frail hand.

A sigh hissed from your nostrils as you forced a smile at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Could do me a favor?” she asked ever so sweetly.

Every inch of you wished to snap back a decline and pedal away as fast as possible, but you couldn’t do that. Your parents would have your neck for it. “Sure, Mrs. Ketburn.”

“Perfect,” she smiled, showing off her dentures. “It won’t take but a few moments, dear.”

You were counting on that. You needed to see Remus before any other kids from school found him. (You trusted Remus, you really did, and he trusted you, but a strong string of anxiety was still taut around your chest).

Mrs. Ketburn led you into her musty house that always smelled of cat litter despite no other indication that she even had a cat. She needed help reaching the flour on the very top shelf of her kitchen cabinets, so she could finish baking apple turnovers, she said.

With a glance at your watch, you pulled around a chair and stepped up, easily reaching for the bag of flour and quickly hopping back down. You practically shoved the flour into her hands and muttered a goodbye in one breath.

“I really gotta—” Time came to slow, slow stop as the bag slipped between her wrinkled fingers, a cloud of flour billowing up around the both of you.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry.”

You took an even breath and glanced down at your watch. “It’s fine.” You still had time. “Let me help with the mess.”

She grinned up at you. “You’re a dear. I’ll fetch a broom.”

“Don’t forget a dustpan,” you called after her.

It felt as if forever and then some passed by before she came back with a broom, of course having forgotten a dustpan. You gritted your teeth and tried not to be too harsh as you took the broom from her hands.

You swept the flour into a neat little pile at the center of the kitchen, going to savagely search her supply closet for a dustpan only to come back hands empty. You were on the cusp of asking her to get it when you stepped back into the kitchen, finding Mrs. Ketburn holding the dustpan and asking, “Did you need this, dear?”

You didn’t even bother looking at your watch again, not wanting any more stress to weigh down on you. For all you knew, Ben himself could have tracked Remus down on his way home from the station by now.

That in mind, you probably broke a world record in sweeping with how swiftly you finished the task, leaving Mrs. Ketburn’s tools leaning on the counter as you shouted a goodbye over your shoulder.

You hopped onto your bike and set into action, pedaling down the road to make it to his house. That was your best bet at finding him in a timely manner. Around a corner, across the street, you sped through town, that horrid scene replaying in your head.

Remus would never believe Ben’s lies. Never ever… but you had to see him to be sure.

As soon as you reached his driveway, you abandoned your bike on the pavement and ran up to the door. His mom’s car was parked out front. Remus was home from his stupidly far away magic school. At last. You nearly forgot why you were stressed at all, but then the front door swung open as Remus met you halfway.

His smile was as blinding as ever as he rushed forth and enveloped you in a warm embrace. Throwing your arms round his neck you held him close and just breathed him in after so many long months apart.

You wanted to ask him about his friends, about what new magic he could show you, and if his Quidditch team did well—but first, you pulled back and stared deep into his eyes, blurting, “Ben Waters is a liar and a creep.”

The way he grinned at you told you all you needed to know. “Tell me something new.”

“So someone told you already?” you asked tentatively, drawing a roll of his eyes.

“I was told,” he began as if on his last leg, “by an overly enthusiastic Heather Law that you’d betrayed me and gone 'n slept with Ben.”

You pictured the girl from your class clear as day, waltzing up to him ever so confident she was about to gain a new boyfriend. You waited, but all he did was chuckle at the notion. “And you said?”

Remus pressed his forehead to your own, nudging your nose with his. “I told her to have a good day, and I came home to you.”

That was enough to have you connecting your lips in a feverish kiss, smiling into it. You knew Remus would never believe them. He was too good to ever even play with the idea. You just couldn’t wait till everyone else knew that too.

But first, you had a year's worth of kisses to catch up on.

#remus #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders x reader

805 notes · View notes

rowdyluv · 2 months ago

Text

Believe in Me — jh86

summary: in which the summer following Jack’s rookie year is coming to an end. Not only did his rookie year come with being shafted by the league as the biggest bust, but he managed to get painted as the biggest (and newest) playboy of the league. His personal management team, the team’s management, and PR step in to clear this all up, but it takes work from Jack.

warnings/points of importance: use of y/n, fem!reader x jack, use of nicknames for female character and for Jack, fake dating trope, oblivious pining trope(?), childhood friends, minor usage of foul language, creation of side original characters for plot, time jumps, memories inserted - tumblr’s intention and italics used to notate, inner thoughts marked with ‘..’ and italicized if they occur

word count: 4.32

notes: any names used for original characters that relate to someone’s name or closely relate to a person’s name is purely by happenstance. The names were rolled by random from a generator where I inserted random first and last names.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the worn wooden planks of the back porch swing, her eyes following the lazy dance of the sunset as it descended behind the distant tree line. Her childhood home had changed so little over the years, the same comforting embrace of familiarity wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a chilly evening. The porch swing squeaked in a soothing rhythm as both her and Jack slowly swung, a nostalgic tune that had serenaded countless summer nights spent sharing secrets and laughter with Jack. The only other kid who had been in her grade when she moved in, well really one of the only other neighborhood children. The other two children in the neighborhood were his brothers. All three of which had become as much a part of her life as the very foundation of the house she grew up in.

She had spent all day out with his family by the pool, her mother insisted he come to their house for dinner though. Nothing to offer course for their life, well a year ago it wouldn’t have been.

"Do you want to talk about your new headline?" Y/n tried to hold back the hint of amusement in her tone but failed miserably. Jack's rookie season had just come to an end before the beginning of summer. In just a few months he had gone from the talk of the league as the number one draft pick to talk of the league as a "bust."

He was nothing close to a bust. It was just how the year fell.

Jack leaned back in the swing, the sun's final strokes of light for the day painting his cheekbones. He sighed; a heavy exhale filled with the weight of the rumors that had been following him like a dark shadow. "It's just how it's going to be now. You know how it is with the media. They're desperate to find a new angle to keep me going." There were a few moments of silence shared between them before he found the words to continue. "First, it's all about my game, how I'm not scoring enough or I'm not this hotshot star that every analyst built me up to be. Season ends and it's about my supposed love life." His voice was a mix of annoyance and defeat. He was used to being the center of attention, truthfully he strived to be in the center of attention. He just wasn't used to it always being negative attention.

"To be it all, I have this video chat meeting with public relations, franchise management, and my management team about some idea they have come up with to help bring attention away from everything." Jack groaned. "We have three days left of the summer before we drive back to Jersey, I don't want to spend one of them in meetings."

Y/n nodded sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on his forearm and leaning herself over on him. "It's okay, bubs. Maybe it's nothing too serious." But she could tell from the furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenched and the tension in his voice that he was already aware of what they had come up with. Or at least he had an idea. She didn't dare pry, they may be best friends, but Jack was clearly not ready to share his thoughts. "And... If it is serious I will be in Jersey this season to help you through it."

Jack gave her a grateful smile before standing up from the porch swing, stretching his arms out wide. "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't worry about it tonight." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, a gesture that was as commonplace as breathing between the two of them. "Thanks for the pep talk, toots." He said, using the childhood nickname that never failed to make her smile despite the circumstances. "I should head back down the street to my parent's place. It's getting late."

As he turned to leave, the rising moon cast a cool glow over the yard, highlighting the tall blades of grass that danced with the intermittent breeze. Y/n watched him go, her mind racing with the implications of what might happen at that during his meeting tomorrow. Would they really suggest something so ridiculous? And if they did, how would Jack handle it?

Jack's footsteps grew fainter until they were swallowed by the night. The house, once alive with the echoes of their laughter, now felt eerily quiet. Y/n remained seated out on the swing, her thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt and concern. She knew Jack was strong, capable of taking on any challenge thrown his way, but the thought of him being manipulated into some scheme to save the face of the Devils franchise made her sick. Then she thought, what if they didn't call a meeting to manipulate him into anything? What if it's simply to offer suggestions on what he can do differently going forward?

Y/n eventually shut that portion of her brain off and headed inside herself. A long hot shower and her bed was calling her name.

The next day Jack sat in his father's home office, the room smelling faintly of cologne and leather, waiting for the others to join the video call. The space was a testament to his father's success, filled with trophies and framed newspaper articles from his own days as a star player and coach. It was both inspiring and daunting, a constant reminder of the legacy he and his brothers were trying to live up to. The computer screen flickered to life, displaying a Zoom call with a row of faces, some familiar, some not. His management team, PR reps, and a couple of team officials stared back at him, all expectant and poised.

Jack leaned back in the chair, his casual attire feeling woefully inadequate among the suits and professional backgrounds of his callers. He had taken his mother's advice and dressed comfortably, but now he wished he had at least put on a button-up shirt. He glanced down at his New Jersey Devils t-shirt, the logo stretched slightly across his chest. It was a fan favorite, one that had been thrown at him in excitement by a young fan at a game. It felt like a piece of armor, a symbol of his pride and commitment to the team, but today it just made him feel like he was the kid, and he was playing dress-up in his dad's old gear.

The meeting began with a round of forced smiles and awkward greetings. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/n's words from the night before echoed in his mind, a comforting whisper amidst the storm of uncertainty. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whoever their absurd suggestion be his girlfriend when they had conjured up the fake relationship idea to "fix" his image.

"Jack, before we start, do you remember the guidelines I told you for this relationship or should we go over them again with everyone here?" The voice was cold and calculated, belonging to one of the stern-faced PR reps. Her eyes bore into him through the screen, demanding his full attention.

Jack's stomach lurched. He had hoped they would just come right out with what was new, news. "I think everyone is aware of what we're trying to achieve here, but please go ahead," he said, trying to keep the sarcasm at bay.

The stern-faced public relations rep, Ms. Castellanos, nodded curtly. "Good. So, the first guideline is that you two must be seen together at least three times a week. This includes public appearances such as dates, her being seen attending your games, and even casual outings like grocery shopping or walking the dog. That is if you or her have one."

Jack's eyes widened slightly, glancing down at his half empty coffee mug. He didn't have a dog, but he still didn't know who this girl they paired him up with was. Plus, he didn't know if Y/n had picked up any new hobbies involving pets in her last year of college. It was never mentioned during their weekly calls or on visits. It would be important to know that since she’s going to be living with him.

"Jack, are you listening?" The voice brought him back to the present, the sternness of Ms. Castellanos' tone was unmistakable.

Jack swallowed down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside him and nodded in acknowledgement.

Ms. Castellanos continued, "Guideline two, and perhaps the most important one, is that the relationship must appear genuine. You must exhibit believable public affection and body language. This means holding hands, occasional kisses on the cheek, maybe a few on the lips if the situation calls for it. As for body language," the stone-cold lady stopped speaking, watching Jack carefully once more. "You're both young, attractive, and in the public eye. If you lean into each other, have your arms around each other's waist, or even occasionally rest your head on her shoulder, it'll look natural and convincing. The media will eat it up, and your image will be transformed from a lonely heartthrob to a lovestruck boyfriend in no time."

Jack felt his cheeks flush slightly, the thought of faking intimacy with someone he'd never met before was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He took another sip of his now lukewarm coffee, trying to imagine how awkward the first kiss would be. He had never been one for faking emotions, especially something as intimate as love.

Ms. Castellanos continued, her voice unforgiving. "Guideline four is critical. The relationship must end with your girlfriend, and I stress this, must be the one to initiate the breakup. It should be done publicly and dramatically enough to make headlines, but not so much that it causes a scandal." She paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. "You cannot under any circumstances leave her. If it looks like you're the one who ended things, it'll only add fuel to the fire of your reputation. You need to be seen as the heartbroken party, the victim of a fickle heart. It'll humanize you, make you more relatable to the fans."

Jack felt his jaw clench at the coldness of the plan. He had agreed to a fake relationship to get the media off his back, but this was starting to feel like a script for a reality TV show gone wrong. "And what happens if we... I mean, if she gets tired of the whole thing?" He stumbled over his words, trying to maintain some semblance of respect for the stranger he was about to be romantically linked with.

"Ah, that's where guideline five comes into play," said Ms. Castellanos, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of her own cleverness. "We've prepared a non-disclosure agreement that she will be signing before the relationship begins. It's quite comprehensive and includes clauses for breaking it off in a controlled manner. She'll understand her role in this, Jack."

Jack's grip tightened around his coffee mug, the cheap porcelain feeling fragile under his thumb. "But who is she?" he repeated, his voice a little louder, a hint of frustration creeping in.

Ms. Castellanos' smile didn't waver, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Her name is Elena Petrov," she said smoothly. "A local influencer with a clean reputation. She's been briefed on the situation and has agreed to help. She's a fan of the team and understands the importance of this for your career."

"No." Jack huffed out. gaining the attention of everyone on the call. Just the same as Jack, everyone else barely stayed tuned into her annoying voice. "She is the reason I am in this shit hole. Her friend is the last girl I was with. Elena took all the pictures. Maggie? A little help here." Jack pleaded with the IT media girl that for some miraculous reason was sitting in on the call.

"Oh. Uhm, yes. It took me days to get the pictures she put up taken down. And Mr. Hughes, we were able to prove they were edited after looking closer at them," Maggie spoke up, her voice shaky, probably from fear of interrupting the woman that could potentially ruin their lives with a tweet.

Ms. Castellanos' eyes darted from Jack to Maggie and back again, her displeasure clear. "Jack, this is non-negotiable. This is what's best for your career right now. You need to be seen as more than just a party boy. The sooner you start this relationship with Elena, the sooner we can start repairing your image," she said, her voice like a whip cracking through the tension in the room.

Jack's manager, Mr. Taylor, cleared his throat before speaking up, his tone measured and calm. "Perhaps there's another option we haven't considered. What about Y/n?" he suggested, glancing at Jack, who looked up at him, hope flickering in his eyes.

Ms. Castellanos raised an eyebrow. "Your childhood friend?" She sounded skeptical, but the video stream grew quiet, all eyes on Jack.

Jack nodded, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. "Yeah, Y/n. We've been best friends since middle school. Everyone already thinks we're together. It'll be believable, and she's... she's not in the spotlight like Elena is. It'll keep things more low-key." He swallowed, hoping he wasn't about to ruin their friendship.

Ms. Castellanos leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Very well, Jack. We'll consider it. But you need to talk to her and make sure she's on board with this. The last thing we need is for her to spill the beans and ruin the whole charade."

Jack nodded, his heart racing. He knew Y/n would do anything for him but asking her to be his fake girlfriend was a big ask. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have. After the call ended, he let out a guttural groan due to frustration. He needed to go shoot some basketball or pucks before he talked Y/n, but he didn't have that time to waste. Instead of blowing off some of his stress he slipped on some shoes, kissed his momma goodbye, and headed out to the house he has visited time and time again.

The warm afternoon air was a major contrast to the coldness of the conversation he had just had. The streetlights flickered to life as Jack approached Y/n's house, the familiar path to her door as comforting as ever. He stopped in front of the door, the color of her door had changed since last summer, but the memories that lie behind it remained the same.

Jack took a deep breath before raising his hand to knock, the sound echoing through his head. Only thing on his mind was the conversation they were about to have. Jack flinched as he realized how hard and urgent he had beat on her mother’s front door. His heart thudded against his chest, partially with the anticipation of her reaction to the proposal and because of how quickly he had walked down the block. Jack took a deep breath in an urgent need to calm himself and appear as normal as possible before he was face to face with her.

Before he could finish his internal mantra of calming himself, the front door swung open in a rush. He was slightly hoping it would somehow be one of her relatives, but there she was, looking up at him with her soft, hopeful eyes. Her hair messily tossed into a messy bun atop her head and a sprinkle of fresh freckles danced across her nose from spending the day in the sun with his family yesterday. She was wearing the momentous hoodie that he had gifted her before leaving last summer. A hoodie that held a lot in its threads for the two of them. For her, it now held a lot of silent screams and wiped away tears from the last year, but it still held their joint memories.

‘It originally had become Jack’s superstitious hoodie for a while. The lucky hoodie he would wear all the way up to when he would change for warm ups, then she would wear it. This superstition developed during the years of world juniors. The year he brought home the Gold, the superstition shifted. Jack had a “girlfriend” that entire season and she wasn’t fond of the idea of Jack and Y/n swapping clothes like they did. The games with the development program were when she noticed this happening. She confronted Y/n about having a useless crush on her boyfriend and she would be taking over wearing his hoodie from then on. Jack didn’t take lightly to it, that was his best friend, his biggest non-family supporter. So, he decided y/n would wear the hoodie the entire time, from the time they all got dressed for the day to after the game. Now, it’s hers entirely, his decision since he couldn’t be here for her and live out his dream. He wanted her to have a piece of him, but if be a piece of them. Once again, it has become her comfort item as it has been back then.’

She fiddled with the stretched out sleeves hanging over left hand anxiously as her right hand was still grasping the door knob.

"How was your meeting?" The words fell from her lips so fast she hadn't taken a moment to invite him inside. Y/n had sat out on the porch swing all morning waiting to hear from him. Seeing him now ignited her anxiety and her need to know.

Jack let out a simple laugh at her eagerness to know. He softly touched her side, giving a slight nudge as if to signal her to walk backwards into the house.

The coolness of the air conditioning kissing his skin. "It was... interesting," he said, his voice a mix of relief and dread.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She walked a few steps backwards with his guidance to allow him in, the old floorboards creaking under their weight. "Interesting as in good or interesting bad?"

Jack shrugged, his smile wavering as he let go of her and made his way into the living room. The same room where they had spent hours playing video games, watching movies, doing homework.

—Could he ask her to do this? What if it blows up in their faces and ruins everything. What if he ruins her? He’d never be able to live with himself for hurting her.

The couch looked inviting, but he knew better than to sit down without spilling his guts. "Well, it’s one of those ‘depends on how you take it’ interesting type situations..." he trailed off, his eyes wandering around the room.

Y/n looked at him, her eyebrows rising in a questioning manner. Her eyes were filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. She could read the hesitancy written all across him. Starting with wanting to open up about his meeting. Which is something he's never had an issue with, at least with her, to not wanting to sit down. Almost as if, if he got too comfortable he would tell too much.

Taking a hold of his hand, rubbing her thumb over his palm she leaned her head on his upper arm. A common gesture between them. “Jackers?” She whispered so softly, he nearly missed it. He hummed in response coming out from where he drifted off too. She took a hold of his hand and softly pulled him down to take a seat on the couch with her.

“Jackers, just tell me. Did they come up with something ridiculous?"

Jack let out a small laugh , the sound hollow and forced. "Ridiculous doesn't even begin to cover it," he whined, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "They want me to start a fake relationship with someone who I know is not going to help me. Then my manager suggested someone who would be great and I was for it because we already know each other but.." He took a deep breath, bracing himself for her reaction.

Y/n let go of his hand, in an unnatural reaction as they have been platonically physical since high school, "A fake relationship?" she echoed that one snippet. “With.. With who? Since I’ll be living with you I should be prepared for a new girl even if she is a fake girlfriend.”

Jack took a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes filled with a desperation she had never seen before. "Toots, I really don't know what to do about this. PR decided on Elena Petrov. B—”

“You mean the friend of the bitch who started this mess? No I’m sorry the two who started this mess? You’re going to pounce around all lovey with the girl who put you here?!” Y/n’s chest heaved up and down heavily. She watched Jack’s face twist in annoyance then soften.

“If you had let me finish… I flat out said no. I will not and am not going to do this plan with her. When I told everyone on the call right then that I wouldn’t, my manager suggested someone else. But I don’t know if they’ll do it. They seem pretty disappointed in me…” Jack kept his voice even and didn’t raise it. He knew how you felt about being yelled at and he couldn’t be the one to cause a panic attack because he got a little upset.

“Well, who did they suggest? Maybe I can help. As long as it’s not Elena..”

“They suggested you. They asked me if I thought you would do it or if I would like you to do it with me. But if you're upset or disappointed, I'll tell them no right now," Jack explained, his voice a low rumble of uncertainty. He started fishing his phone out of his pocket in case he had to call his manager.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as a knot formed, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had always been there for Jack, and he for her, but this was something entirely different. This was a line they hadn’t truly crossed, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to pretend to cross it again. "Jack, I..." she murmured looking down at her hands in her lap, her voice trembling slightly. "Yes, I'll do it."

Jack's head snapped to look at her, his eyes failing to meet hers as she’s staring down, though a spark of hope igniting within him still. "You will?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

Y/n nodded, her throat tight with unspoken emotions. "Yeah, I'll do it," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "For you, I'll do it."

Jack's shoulders slumped with relief. He reached out to lift her head hesitantly so that he could meet her eyes with his. His eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "You don't have to if you don't want to, management can figure it out.”

Y/n forced a smile and nodding her head yes, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and dread. The thrill of being able to go and do things with Jack was nice, but the dread of being scrutinized by females she didn’t know was already gnawing at her. "Besides, it's only for a couple of months, right?"

Jack's smile didn't part to show his teeth, it stayed tight lipped, evident he wasn't as enthused as his tone of voice was letting on. "Yup! Just for a couple of months."

"Okay, we can totally pull this off. It will be like playing pretend, remember?" She nudged him with her elbow, trying to lighten the mood with a memory from their childhood. More so for herself than him.

"You mean like when we got married under that old oak tree at my grandparents' house in the summer between sixth and seventh grade?" Jack nudged her back.

"Yup when you only agreed to get pretend married so you could get your first kiss."

She let a little giggle slip out as she reminisced on the memory of her and Jack as kids under the oak tree.

A young Jack with his signature smirk standing at the ‘altar’ with the “preacher Luke”. Jack didn’t wait for Luke to do his part of the pretend wedding he skipped straight to the kiss. ‘Couldn’t wait tootsie I was just wanting my 1st’

"If I remember correctly that was your first kiss too, and you asked for another one because of the ‘belly flies’." Jack teased her enjoying seeing her cheeky smile and blush creeping up on to her cheeks.

Y/n’s laughter echoed loudly through the room. "Jack Hughes, you are such a jerk!" She said playfully, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Jack laughed echoing her laughter. "So, do we have an agreement? You'll be okay with fake dating me, even though we never got fake divorced?"

Y/n shook her head yes once again, while rolling her eyes at the boy next to her. “Yes, Jackers. Even though you never fake divorced me, I will fake date you.”

If she only knew that Jack was silently and brutally beating himself up for this. They were in for a roller coaster of chaos and changes.

Now that he had secured one portion of the agreement, he has footwork left in figuring out how to get out of the hoops and twists. Like how to get out of that very public break up after a few months into dating. He wasn’t going to make her out to be some bitch she’s not.

And if Jack has it his way, they won’t be breaking up and it won’t be a “fake” relationship for long either.

Because Jack Hughes is hopelessly in love with his best friend. If he has any luck, besides puck luck, she loves him too.

notes 2.0: hello! welcome to my newest mini series, believe in me i hope you enjoyed the first part of the series. i am always open to kindly put creative criticism. i truly appreciate all of the continued support by reading, liking, & reblogging! thank you thank you!

367 notes · View notes

bennysblabbering · 1 month ago

Text

Doctor's Treatment

Kinktober: "Medical Play" || Tamayo x reader

contents: masks, gloves, fingering, clit play, praise & reassurance, talking you through it

words: 2.3k

g/n afab reader

↓ Fic below the cut ↓

The cool night air fills your lungs as you take in a deep breath and knock on the tall wood door, the soft yellow light from inside illuminating the porch through the stained glass. After a few moments, the door swings open and you’re greeted by the face of a white-haired demon, a scowl present on his expression as his intense lavender eyes scan you up and down. You clear your throat awkwardly with a smile. “Good evening, Yushiro. Is…Tamayo home?”

He stays silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want with her?”

“I just wanted her advice on something.”

“No.”

He starts to close the door before the aforementioned woman walks down the hall, stopping the door with her hand before it reaches the frame.

“Come on, now, Yushiro, let Y/N in.”

The annoyed man rolls his eyes with a flat expression, moving aside to let you enter. Despite your awareness of your friend being a demon, you were on good terms; you’d found out by complete accident, but it never changed the way you saw her. If anything, it made you like her more- that despite her instincts, she still chose to be gentle and kind, and wanted to help people by having a career that helps humans the most.

With Yushiro not wanting to give you the time of day, the two of you make your way into the living room, the both of you sitting cross-legged in front of a short table. Tamayo gazes at you warmly and tilts her head with a gentle smile. “What brings you here, Y/N? Is there something you came to see me for, or did you just drop in to say hi?”

“Well…I thought with your medical knowledge, you could help me figure out a problem I’ve been having. I just can’t figure out what it is for the life of me.”

“Of course.” She nods, concerned. “I’ll help you however I can.”

You sigh, gaze wandering around the room as you try to find the right words. “I guess…I’ve just been feeling both mentally and physically off. It’s hard to verbalize. I’ve been so irritable and annoyed at everything all the time, and I feel this…tightness in my body, like on the inside. Like there’s this knot being pulled harder and harder every day. I’m not sure what any of it means, or if my emotional and physical conditions even have anything to do with each other. I feel like they are, but…I don’t know…am I even making any sense?”

You look back up at the woman across the table to see her brows furrowed and compassionate violet eyes softened. “It seems this has really been distressing you, Y/N. Let’s move to my research room and I can examine you, if that’s alright.”

You nod, following her down the hall into what looks like a study; the walls were clad floor-to-ceiling in bookshelves, many of the titles suggesting the contents were medical textbooks. In the corner was a small twin-size bed next to a desk, a book already opened and a page about medicinal flowers on display. You sit down on the edge of the mattress as the doctor opens a drawer in the desk. She pulls out a plain white cloth mask and ties the string ends behind her head, before donning a latex glove on each hand. “You’ll have to forgive my formality. I trust you enough to tell you that I haven’t eaten in about a week, and being up close with a human would test my limits closer than what I’m comfortable with. I’d never hurt you, but this is for both your safety and mine.”

You blink in surprise and nod as your heartbeat quickens slightly. You trust her as well, but it’s truly donning on you that she really is a demon. She eats blood to survive. But the fact that she has enough self-reason to but a barrier between the two of you shows that she truly would never want to bring you any harm.

“Okay, you can lay on your back. Let me know if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable, alright?”

“Alright.” You follow her request, swinging your legs up and turning your body to lay supine on the bed, crossing your hands together behind your head and laying on them. Two delicate gloved fingers press onto your jugular vein, checking your pulse while you try to steady your breathing.

“Hm. A little fast, but nothing to worry about.” She continues moving her fingers down your neck and into the dip of your collar bone, examining your skin and lymph nodes with her fingertips. Gently and attentively, she kneads at the sensitive flesh, making your breath hitch. It almost felt…good.

Ghosting her hands lower, she looks into your eyes with an inquisitive look. “Would it be alright if I touched your breasts? We would need to remove your shirt if so.”

Your pulse quickens even more and you pray that she doesn’t check it again. You gulp and nod; it had been a long time since anyone had touched you there. Now that you thought about it…it had been a long time since anyone had touched you at all. Of course she’s a doctor and she’d be professional about it, but you can’t pry your thoughts away from the idea of such a beautiful woman touching you in an intimate area.

Sitting up so you can pull the shirt off your head, the brisk air of the room surrounds your exposed skin, making your nipples immediately harden. You can feel your cheeks heat up as you lay back down and look away while she begins to poke and prod at the malleable mounds. It wasn’t akin to a lover affectionately massaging them, but it certainly felt better than nothing. She lightly squeezes a nipple and you have to choke back a whimper, attempting to cover it up by pretending to clear your throat. She stops the movement and draws her hand away, her eyes moving back up to your face.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, does that hurt?”

You shake your head, the blush present on your cheeks betraying you as it only intensified. “No, no, sorry. It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s good. From what I’ve already observed and examined of you, you seem fine to me. At this point, there’s only one solid conclusion I can make.”

“And that is…?”

She crosses her arms, blinking with her gaze wandering away from yours as she tries to put her diagnosis for you in a respectful way. “Sexual frustration. When one, especially a human, goes a long time without being…satisfied, it can result in emotional instability and psychosomatic symptoms.”

Your hands ball into fists as your body tenses, mortified at her words but realizing she was right. You’d gone ages without affection or activity of any kind and it was starting to chip away at you both mentally and physically. “I see. I feel embarrassed for coming here if that’s all it was. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

You pick your shirt back up, intending to pull it on before she grabs your wrist and looks at you with that same kind and caring look. “Y/N…it’s my job to make sure my patients are at their healthiest and happiest. If you’d like my assistance, I’m willing to extend that offer to you.”

…huh?

You shake your head a bit as you close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather a coherent response. “I’m…not sure I understand.”

She gently removes the shirt from your hand, holding her own gloved hand in yours as she speaks in a reassuring yet slightly suggestive tone. “I know being pent up is not an enjoyable feeling. I can help alleviate that if you’d like my help satisfying you.”

You can feel the warmth from your face spreading down your body, your cunt starting to yearn for the demon in front of you as she suggests pleasuring you directly. “But…I thought you didn’t want to be too close to humans right now. Wouldn’t that…make it worse?”

“I’ll keep my mask and gloves on. It won’t be a problem.”

You stay completely still for a moment, wrapping your mind around the fact that this is real. “If…if you say so. Are you sure?”

She places a hand on your thigh closest to her, sliding it to the inner side and strokes gently with a thumb. A wave of electricity shoots up your spine as you take in a shaky inhale. She giggles with a soft sigh, pleased at your reaction. “Yes. I’m sure. Now let’s remove the rest of your clothes and I can get started.”

You pull down on your waistband, taking your bottoms and underwear off and placing them next to your shirt. You tremble a bit, nervously chewing on your cheek as your entire naked body is exposed before Tamayo. But if you were to have anyone see you like this, you would want it to be someone like her; a person you trusted wholeheartedly, and if you were honest with yourself…already attracted to. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think your friend was easy on the eyes.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You can lay down again. Just relax and let me make you feel good, okay?” Her soft and soothing voice helped to calm you a bit as you once again move to the position you were in before, though this time with your knees bent and thighs parted. She could sense your nervousness as you shake and take deep breaths; she strokes your thigh and offers an affectionate look as her fingers slowly wander over to your clit, using her middle and ring fingers to press down and rub small circles onto the bud. “We’ll start off easy.”

You sigh with a whine as you lay your head back, closing your eyes and placing your hands on your stomach. “Good, that’s it, just relax,” she hums as she continues to work the muscle with her fingertips. You could immediately tell she knew what she was doing- not only because she had the same anatomy as you, but because she had extensive knowledge on how to please the right spots.

“H-harder…”

She complies with your request, pressing the two gloved fingers down harder and rubbing slightly faster. “Yeah, don’t be afraid to tell me what you like. I want to make sure this is a good experience for you.” You whine a bit louder, but try your best to swallow it down and bite it back on your lips before it comes out too loudly. “Hey, now, it’s alright. You don’t have to hold back on the noises you make. Just do what feels right. It’ll also help me to let me know what you enjoy.”

You nod meekly as you try your best to release the tension in your body, humming as you focused on her fingers skillfully working your bundle of nerves. She switches from circles to rubbing back and forth, pressing harder and making more of a kneading motion, and a wanton moan escapes your throat. “Fuck…”

“Oh, you like that?” She continues the same motions with her hand, now using her other one to insert two fingers into your entrance, easily sliding in from your eager pussy being so wet from her attention on your clit. You part your legs a bit more and moan again, reveling in the sensation of being filled by her slender fingers. While continuing the massaging of your clit, the fingers on her other hand curl upward on the inward strokes, pressing down on your g-spot. Your closed eyes roll and your jaw hangs slack, overwhelmed from the simultaneous pleasure.

“T…Tamayo…your hands…fuck, that feels good.”

She responds with a content hum, looking up at your blissful expression with adoration in her lilac eyes. “I’m glad. Would you like me to go faster?”

You vigorously nod, huffing. “Please, please.”

The woman giggles in reply as she speeds up the thrusts of her fingers into your cunt and the strokes on your clit, the combined sensations making the pitch and volume of your noises rise. You couldn’t stop the moans escaping your mouth as she continued to work you with her hands- she really knew how to please you and it felt unreal. You hadn’t known a loving, sexual touch in so long you’d forgotten what it felt like, but her skillful ministrations brought the love of the sensation flooding back into your mind and body. “I’m…I’m close…”

She increases the speed and pressure on both hands, the sound of obscene squelching filling the room as her fingers fucked and rubbed you without mercy. “Good, let it out, let it all out. Don’t worry about making a mess, I’ll take care of that.”

Your hazy mind takes in her words and finally you reach that high, your hips lifting off of the bed as your pussy tightens and releases, your hands desperately grasping at the sheets beneath you and your legs straightening and bending repeatedly. Even during your orgasm her motions don’t ease up, making everything feel so incredibly intense and mind-blowingly amazing.

With your hips meeting the bed once more and your breathing slowing down, her hands ease up eventually before slowing down. You exhale with a chuckle, in complete disbelief that just happened and you came that hard. She helps you sit up as you catch your breath before throwing her old gloves in the trash, putting on some new ones and stroking your back gently. “You did very well, Y/N. How do you feel?”

“I…wow. It…that was nice.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m sorry that I couldn’t use my bare hands or my mouth to help you further.”

Your face heats up once again. “Y…your mouth?”

She smiles as she nods. “Indeed. If I’d had enough blood intake, I could have done more with you without these necessary barriers.”

You gulp and look away before looking back at her. “I mean…you can have some of my blood if you want.” You crane your neck to the side, heavy eyelids falling on her suggestively.

This time, she’s the one blushing.

“Do you…do you mean it?”

i was initially going to add a part where the reader lets her drink their blood but i lost muse towards the end ;-; let me know if yall want a part 2 where that happens!

123 notes · View notes

atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

Note

Could you write a continuation to ride it where they meet for the first time after that incident at a family party and he teases her the whole time until they fuck in her childhood bedroom 😳

I love your writing 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

oooh boy, here we go :)

What a Ride

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

warnings | 18+ smut, and nothing but, lil bit of angst, mostly just filth tho

a/n | this can totally be read as a standalone, but it does follow the events of Ride It and Let's Take a Ride, if you are so inclined to read along :)

.................

He’s doing it on purpose. He has to be. The way his knee keeps brushing against hers under the table is one thing, but the little glances over the rim of his wine glass tells her that this is anything but accidental.

It’s her dad’s fiftieth birthday party, and all she can think about is the way Joel Miller has been looking at her, the same way he looked at her that night when she got a little more of a ride than she bargained for when she called him to pick her up.

There’s enough people around, all gathered on the back porch for dinner, that no one would ever notice the stolen looks and lingering touches. A palm pressed to her low back as he slips by, a seemingly friendly squeeze to her shoulders from behind, the brush of his chest against her back as he reaches around her for another drink.

She hadn’t seen him since that night on the side of the road, and when she opened the door to him earlier this evening, the grin he gave her told her more than words ever could.

Now, sitting at the picnic bench in her dad’s backyard with Joel sat right next to her, she’s not sure how much more of his teasing she can take. The candles have been blown out, the cake has been cut, and he’s getting bolder by the minute, leaning closer into her side until the heat radiating off him starts to make her sweat more than the quickly-fading summer sun. She does her best to make small talk with her dad’s coworkers, keeping her eyes angled away from Joel who seems to be doing the same, even as his hand comes to splay over her thigh, fingers curling and resting right at the softness where her legs are crossed under the table. His thumb sweeps, back and forth, back and forth, over her skin, and she’s not sure how he’s doing that at the same time he’s easily talking to someone else about lumber. She, on the other hand, is starting to feel dizzy with the continuous motion, swallowing harshly around a bite of cake.

“You got a little something there, honey.” Before she knows what’s happening, Joel is turning to her and swiping his thumb along the curve of her bottom lip, stray icing smearing on the pad of his finger as he sucks it into his own mouth, eyes not leaving hers for even a moment. Her eyes widen, darting around. She’s only slightly relieved when it seems like no one else was paying attention to Joel’s antics. A low hum resounds from his chest, and that coupled with the lewd pop of his thumb leaving his mouth is enough to send her jerking out of her seat, his hand falling away from her thigh, as she hurries back inside. She doesn’t let herself take a full breath until she’s in her old childhood bedroom, slumping back against the door once it’s shut behind her.

It had been easy, not letting guilt creep in for what she and Joel had done, so long as she was away from her dad at school. But being home this weekend, she’s not sure how to reconcile the creeping shame with the undeniable desire she feels for a man who should be off limits. It had been torturous being in the same space, her dad swinging a proud arm around her shoulders and gushing to Joel about how well she was doing in her classes, all while Joel smiled brightly nodding along politely to her dad’s praises while all she could do was imagine the scrunch of his eyebrows when he bounced her on his– she stops her mind from going there again, blowing out a long exhale as she walks further into her room and splays out on the twin bed. She only stays in this room when she comes to visit now, for holidays and family events, and it’s been left exactly as it was when she was a senior in high school. It’s like a time capsule of four years ago, concert posters, polaroid pictures of her old friends, and entirely too much pink and purple.

She takes another deep breath, feeling the rise and fall of it where her hands are clasped over her stomach, trying to cool down the lingering heat from Joel’s touch. She reasons with herself that if she can just stay in her room for the rest of the night, and away from Joel, she’ll be fine. She’ll just tell her dad in the morning that she wasn’t feeling well, no big deal. But that plan goes out the window when the door to her bedroom opens.

“Thought I’d find you up here. You good?” She huffs, propping herself up on her elbows to look at Joel as he closes the door behind him.

“No, actually. I’m not good. What– what was that out there? You can’t just do stuff like that.” Joel crosses his arms over his chest, biceps swelling under the thin sleeves of his t-shirt, and she knows that he knows exactly what he’s doing, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“What, you didn’t like it?” She has a hard time getting the word no out, instead settling for a hard shake of her head and what she hopes is a stern expression. Joel just laughs.

“You sure about that, honey? That answer wasn’t very convincing.” He shuffles a little further into the room, his eyes trailing up and down her still splayed out body.

“I shouldn’t like it. And you shouldn’t either.” He steps closer to the edge of her bed, right between her legs that are draped over the side. His smile is all smarm, crooked and knowing, as he rests a knee on the bed between her legs, broad palms pressing into the plush of the mattress to frame her face. She feels all-consumed by the warmth of him as he hovers over her, her mind only going more hazy when he tilts his head to the side, the pink of his tongue darting out as he wets his lips.

“You just say the word, and I’ll back off. But I don’t think either of us really want that, do we?” He dips his head down, his nose brushing hers, lips hovering so close she can feel the ghost of his scruff on her skin. The low thrum of his voice nearly jolts her out of her skin when he speaks again.

“Words, honey. You gotta tell me what you want.” She lets out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, eyes darting everywhere but to his intense stare.

“I– I mean– won’t someone notice that we’re both gone?” As if on cue, the faint sound of the back door opening and conversation floods into the house, her head jerking toward the door to her room. Joel, however, is quick to demand her attention, bringing a hand to her jaw, calloused palm tilting her face back to him and giving her no option but to look into his darkened eyes.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me, honey. Don’t worry about them. What do you want?” She’s only a little embarrassed by the whimper that rattles through her throat at his rasped question, the smug grin he gets all the indication she needs that he heard it. It’s all just a little too much, the solid heat of him hovering over her, his scent - cedar and sweat - invading her senses, and those big, brown eyes of his all but melting her further into the mattress.

“I– I want you, Joel. Please–” She doesn’t even get to finish her plea when his lips smear against hers, swallowing her gasp and licking into her mouth. He crowds her until she slips off her elbows, splaying back on the mattress as he kneels between her spread legs. Joel kisses like he’s trying to make a point, keeping a firm hand along her jaw as his tongue slips against hers. He’s quite the sight when he does pull away, lips swollen and glistening, his pupils blown wide as he looks down at her.

“Been thinking about you, honey. How sweet you were for me. You been thinking about me too?”

“Fuck, yes. I–” She stops herself with a sigh when he ducks his head down, laying open-mouthed kisses to the arc of her neck, teeth nipping in all the right places.

“Keep talking, honey. Tell me what you thought about.” His words thrum low against her skin where his lips are dragging, eliciting another broken whimper from her.

“I thought about your hands– how big they are.” He murmurs an mmhmm into her sternum, nosing at the neckline of her tank top before leaning back and letting his palms spread across her waist. His eyes flicker up to hers as he fingers the hem of her shirt, and all it takes is her light nod for him to tug the fabric up and off of her, groaning when he realizes that she isn’t wearing a bra.

“Tell me more, honey. What else did you think about?” She goes to speak again, but gasps when Joel’s mouth lands hot and wet over one of her nipples, his tongue laving over the peak.

“Thought about your mouth– fuck.” He releases her breast with a lewd pop, but not before letting his teeth graze over the skin, sucking harshly and making her preen up into his hold. When he pulls away, he rests his chin between her breasts, grinning from ear to ear.

“My mouth, huh? Anything else, sweet girl?” Yeah, she thinks to herself, and I can feel it pressing against my thigh right now.

“Your– your cock. Thought about you filling me up– how good it felt. How big it felt.” Joel lets out a gruff curse at her words, his hips jerking against hers where he’s slotted between her thighs, the solid heat of him prominent beneath his jeans.

“Fuck, honey– got a mouth on you, huh? You learn how to talk like that at school?” She bites her lip, trying to simmer down a grin at his question as she trails her hands down his front, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Joel is quick to take the hint, batting her hands away and sitting back to yank his shirt off by the collar. Her eyes widen as he kneels between her legs. She didn’t get him like this before, bare-chested, and now she wants him like this forever.

“Not as pretty as your college boys, I reckon.” She’s snapped out of her ogling by his huffed words, noticing his downcast look and– is he blushing? She quickly pushes herself up onto her knees, mirroring him as she takes his face in her hands.

“No, you’re way prettier.” He chuckles, shaking his head at her, but she means it. His broad, sun-worn chest, the soft little pudge of his belly still wrapped in obvious strength. He’s perfect, and she intends to show him. She shoves lightly at his chest, coaxing him to stand up from the bed as her hands get to work on his belt buckle. His pants undone, she stands from the bed only to kneel in front of him, taking his jeans and boxers down along with her.

His cock is perfect, another part of him that she didn’t get a good look at in the dim light of her driver’s seat the first time, the flushed tip the same pretty pink color as the flush spreading across his chest. She lets her nails scratch lightly over the tops of his thighs, looking up at him through her lashes. His lips are parted, eyes heavy and hazy as he looks down at her, bringing one of his thumbs to swipe along her bottom lip. The groan he lets out breaks in his throat when she sucks the pad of his finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.

“Goddamn, honey. Look like heaven and hell all wrapped up in one pretty package.” She releases his thumb with a little pop, smiling up at him.

“Can I show you what else I thought about, Mr. Miller?” That gets a breathy laugh out of him.

“Go on then, honey. Take it. S’all yours.” He takes a sharp inhale when she swipes her thumb over his swollen tip, smearing the dribbling pre-cum down the length of him and letting herself get used to his thickness as she dips her head to lap at his slit, the salt of him immediately invading her senses.

It’s not like she hasn’t done this before, just that she’s never done it with someone who’s got a decade and change more experience than she does, and she can’t help the nerves skittering up her spine as she takes him into her mouth. But the long sigh he lets out does a whole lot to boost her confidence.

“Fuck, honey– perfect little mouth, huh? Think you can take all of me?” The ache in her jaw tells her one thing, but the little grunts he lets out the deeper she takes him coaxes her on until drool is pooling in the corners of her lips and she’s gagging lightly as the tip of his cock brushes the back of her throat.

“Christ– look at you– so good for me, honey, that’s it.” He starts to guide her with a firm grip in her hair, each filthy praise going straight to her core, her thighs getting slick underneath her cut-offs. She just can’t help herself, her hand that isn’t cupping his balls slipping down to unbutton her shorts, fingers deftly sweeping through her folds to smear wetness over her clit, drawing sloppy circles that have her moaning around Joel’s cock.

“Shit, shit– filthy little thing, aren’t you? Does this turn you on, pretty? Sucking my cock like a little slut?” She hums her confirmation around his twitching length, making him let out another gruff curse. He doesn’t let her continue for much longer though, tugging harshly at her hair to get her to pull off him before hauling her up by her arms, a whine leaving her lips at the sudden move.

“Sorry, honey– gotta be quick and I need to be inside you, right fucking now.” With that, he spins her around, pressing between her shoulder blades until her front is laying across her bed, cheek smushed into her comforter. His hands are rough and quick to yank her shorts and panties down, and he groans at the sight of her dripping cunt.

“All this for me, honey?” She hisses when he swipes his fingers through her folds, swirling around her entrance before dipping inside.

“Fuck, yes– all for you, Joel– please–” He shushes her, one hand kneading the curve of her ass while the other lines his throbbing tip up with her entrance.

“Gotta be quiet, sweet girl. Don’t whine, I’ll give you what you need.” She has to bury her face in her mattress to silence the moan that rattles through her chest as he presses his hips forward, her knuckles whitening around her fisted grip on her sheets when he bottoms out. She hears the ragged sigh Joel lets out, followed by the feeling of the warmth of his chest as he hovers over her, pressing a surprisingly sweet kiss between her shoulder blades.

“I know it’s a stretch for you, honey. You tell me when I can move.” How he manages to be both smug and considerate at the same time is beyond her, especially when all she can focus on is the way his swollen tip is grazing a spot inside her that’s making her toes curl.

“I’m good– s’good– you can move.” He presses one more kiss to her back, the heat of him withdrawing as his hands splay over the plush of her hips, rolling away before snapping back into her with so much force that she’s jerked further across her bed. He wasn’t kidding about having to be quick, the pace he sets desperate and brutal.

“Fuck yeah– better than I remember, honey– so good– my good girl.” All she can do is whimper into the sheets, the little sounds mixing with the slick slap of skin and Joel’s breathy pants. With a deep grind inside her, he suddenly snakes a hand under her, palming her breast before hauling her up against him, the sheer strength of the move making her clench around him.

“You gonna come for me, honey? Make a fucking mess? C’mon– fuck, lemme have it.” His other hand presses firm over her pelvis, fingers dipping down to swirl over her clit and she breathes in a hard gasp to keep herself from crying out at the stinging pleasure threatening to snap inside her.

That’s it, honey.

S’just too good, huh? Them college boys just ain’t cutting it?

So cute like this. Nothing in that pretty head of yours, is there? Too full to think, right?

His words are a hot, thick smear against her temple, his pace never faltering as he ruts into her, his hips smacking against the swell of her ass with each thrust. Her high hits her hard, a silent cry of his name on her lips as she spasms in his hold, her cunt fluttering around his throbbing cock. Joel is quick to follow, his hips stuttering before pressing as close to her ass as possible, warmth blooming in her core as he sighs out her name in her ear.

“Jesus, fuck– making me feel young again, honey.” She barely registers his breathy words, her ears ringing as she slumps back in his arms. He shushes her whine when he pulls out of her, gently laying her back on her bed and pressing a kiss to her chin with a murmur that he’ll be right back. She lays, languid and spent, slowly catching her breath as she starts to feel his spend trickling out of her, the heady feeling making her shiver. But Joel is back in a flash, his boxers and jeans pulled back up around his hips, though left unbuckled. He kneels down alongside her, cleaning her up as gently as he can with a damp washcloth which she furrows her brow at. He chuckles.

“Known your old man long enough to know where the bathroom is.” She huffs, still a little too fucked out to protest against the mention of her dad. Satisfied with his work, he sets the washcloth aside, cupping her cheek in his broad palm to tilt her head over for an entirely too sweet kiss.

“Want me to tell him you’re not feeling good so you don’t have to come back down?” She sighs, shaking her head in his hold.

“No, that’ll just make him more suspicious. I’ll be down in a second– just need to– regain feeling in my legs.” That makes him grin, stealing another kiss from her before he gets up with a groan, shuffling around as he searches for his t-shirt. She props herself up on her elbows, noticing his shirt near where her foot is dangling off the side of the bed.

“Looking for this?” He stops his searching, looking up at her. His jaw goes slack at the sight of her dangling his t-shirt over her foot, leg outstretched.

“Gonna send me to an early grave, jesus.” His palm slides along the slope of her calf, ducking down to press a kiss to her shin as he grabs his shirt. Quickly yanking it on, he sends her one more grin as he moves toward the door of her room.

“See you down there, honey.”

“Until next time, Mr. Miller.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller au #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

2K notes · View notes

hotluncheddie · 1 month ago

Text

For @steddie-spooktober day 1 prompt : rain

rating: G | cw: none | tags: autistic eddie munson, sensory seeking

🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️

Eddie once told steve that he loved to wait for the first big rain of the fall.

Not just the first rainy day. But the first Big Rain. Where it rained for a couple of days, really soaked in deep, made everything muddy and sodden and damp to its core. If there was a flash of lightning and thunder that was even better.

Steve didn’t get it. He hated being wet and knew how much Eddie hated being cold. But he liked to hear about it just the same.

And liked it even more, the first time he got to see it.

Steve was on the sofa of the new Munson trailer, relaxing away the tension headache that had started building over his shift. Happy listening to Eddie pluck away at his acoustic. He’s been blinking sleepily and watching where Eddie sits cross legged on the floor, rocking gently side to side as he plays, his hair swinging and brushing his cheeks to the melody.

The sound of the rain was a steady beat for Eddie to play too, the beating of it on the roof reminded Steve of camping as a kid, before his dad moved up the company and didn’t have time for weekend trips or watching his son grow up.

And then the rain slows, putters out into a barely there thing, pulling Steve from him memory.

And it’s then, that Eddie comes alive.

He gasps softly, standing and leaning his guitar against the recliner, peaking behind the curtains.

And then he’s heading for the front door, leaving it open so Steve can just see him through the mesh of the screen, the chilly autumn air making his toes curl up in his socks.

Steve stands from the sofa slowly, watching as Eddie takes his socks off one by one, balling them up and dropping them on the dry of the little wooden porch.

Steve makes it through to the other side of the screen just as Eddie reaches the bottom most step, toes pale and feet bony in the misty bluish light of the grey clouded sky.

Steve had almost mustered the courage to say something, maybe reach out and brush his fingers against Eddie’s shoulder to break the moment, when Eddie jumps.

Jumps and lands square in the middle of a patch of mud, thick and brown and gooey with clogged up rainwater.

Steve freezes.

Eddie lifts his shoulders up to his ears, fists clenched and back ridged.

He squeals.

Steve’s never heard him make that noise before.

Eddie’s toes are wriggling in the mud, squishing and squelching it under his feet. He turns around slowly, arms swaying up and down, shoulders still clamped up by his ears.

His smile is blinding.

‘Good?’ Steve asks.

Eddie nods, eyes twinkling. ‘Big rain.’ He supplies.

Steve smiles back.

🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️

I’m treating this very low stakes and want to keep everything short. Idk if I’ll do every day but I might try - so sorry if it gets annoying lmk if u don’t want to be tagged :)

Tag list: @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m

@thecatkingsthrone @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

#is it Octobers second?#yes but I wrote this yesterday and fell asleep #but shhhh shhhhhhhhhhhh #hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #autistic eddie munson #steddie spooktober #<3 #drabbles #steddiespooktober

122 notes · View notes

angelwings-crossbowstrings · 7 months ago

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 26

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mainly just pregnancy stuff

A/N: I hope I pulled this off while keeping our archer in character. Be gentle.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

You knew it was bothering him, it was evident in the way he moved. The jerking slices of the knife as he made bolts while he sat cross legged on the old railing across from you. You were perched on the porch swing—he had all but jumped up and down on it to make sure it would hold you safely—just watching him, guilt flaring to singe the inside of your chest. He wanted to go on the run, get the things that you and the baby needed, but you were scared. Hershel had said the baby could come any day. It was at your insistence that Daryl wasn’t going. You didn’t have to try hard, mind you. He was worried about leaving you as well.

Still, it wasn’t sitting right with him for the others to be risking their necks for his baby.

“Maybe you should go.” You finally said, picking at your thumbnail. You saw his movements come to an abrupt halt before continuing.

“Nah. Ya need me here.” He sniffed, starting up on another piece of wood. He had legitimate bolts with his crossbow, so you could only assume he was just trying to keep his hands busy. He was so undeniably torn and it was showing.

“I think you should. You know what I need. You’ve read the books. Maggie will be there to help with the medical side of things, the list Hershel made.” You sat up straighter, attempting to massage the little foot away from your ribs. Of course, Daryl noticed.

“S’wrong?” He was climbing off the rail and made it over to you in one long stride, giving you a once over before he sat down. He didn’t ask before taking over for you, lightly rubbing over the little form of toes with the smallest, gentlest of smiles. You’d almost consent to constant discomfort if it meant you’d see more of that expression.

“Thumper has a personal vendetta against my ribcage.” Your head found your partner’s shoulder, watching that same laser focus that had moments ago been on the wood he was carving now honed in on you. For a moment, you were just a couple expecting a baby. For a moment, the world hadn’t ended. For a moment, you had managed to find perfect. “I love you.”

Daryl’s hand froze but for a mere heartbeat before his fingertips continued chasing little toes as if he were playing a game with the baby, when in reality he was simply trying to divert the tiny digits away from your ribs. “So ya keep sayin’.”

“So you keep saying. Is that all you’re ever gonna say?” You weren’t angry, not even frustrated. There was merely a soft curiosity that sat in the back of your mind; along with the little voice that assured you Daryl was yours and you were his, even if he could never say the words.

“Dunno.” It always unsettled you when he spoke so quietly, small and fragile as if he feared his words would end in some sort of pain. God, you wanted to bury his father in a gopher hole, maybe even his mother and brother. It was normal for a person to be unsure of feelings, to question and explore before accepting what they were, good or bad. Daryl didn’t have that capability. He questioned. He explored. And then he feared, good or bad. He didn’t think he deserved good and he was so attuned with bad that it’s what came naturally in his own reactions. Perhaps he thought you were trying to fix him, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. You didn’t see anything broken. You saw someone who had never been shown what love was supposed to feel like. He wasn’t broken, he just needed to learn, and Daryl was good at learning.

Still you persevered, your fingers finding their way into his hair, delicately tracing the scar from Andrea’s bullet. “Do you love me, Daryl?” Maybe narrowing it down to a simple yes or no would make it easier for him. Maybe you were pushing him. You would need time if the answer was no but you would be okay. He cared enough to be with you, to raise Thumper as a family. In the end, that was all you needed.

But then his hand stilled on the center of your swollen belly and he lifted his head to seek out your gaze. Even with all the emotion stirring in those stormy pools of blue, you could easily see the fear, but there was something else. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, the color darkening somewhat as it grew. Even with that comforting gesture, you held his gaze, heard his breath stutter, watched his lips move so, so nimbly without a sound. His free hand came up to brush back your own hair, tenderly tucking it behind your ear. As he leaned toward you, the corners of your mouth lifted into a welcoming smile.

“Y/N, I—”

“We’re heading out!” Glenn called from the doorway before stepping onto the porch. Daryl pulled away fast, his hands on his knees, eyes downcast.

You were going to absolutely torture Glenn before you murdered him.

“You sure you don’t wanna go, Daryl?” Rick had joined Glenn and was checking his weapons before he finally looked up.

Daryl, though, only had eyes for you; his bowed head angled to see you, questioning.

You sighed with a smile, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “Go. Try to find those bra pad things. Cloths suck and they hurt my nipples.” There was no deeper shade of red that could color his skin. You laughed, loud and true. “Go. We’ll be fine.” Licking his lips nervously, Daryl nodded and left the swing.

T-Dog held out the archer’s bag and crossbow. “Thought you might change your mind. Went ahead and grabbed these.” He only received a nod.

The group began to descend the steps, but Daryl paused at the end, looking back to you. He closed the distance in seconds, a finger hooking under your chin to lift your face higher, even though you were already looking at him. “Be back ‘fore dark. Promise.”

That earned him one of your sweetest smiles. “We’ll be waiting.” You patted your belly. The rough hand at your chin, moved to your jaw, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. “I love you, Daryl. Be safe.” He hesitated, long enough for something to stir in your chest. Hope? Excitement? Then he merely nodded and was gone.

You and Lori were given the least strenuous tasks. She was not far behind you. A few weeks, her belly almost as prominent as your own. Luckily, you found it helped for folding clothing before stuffing them in the correct bag. Your bare feet were propped up in a chair across from you, your ankles swollen, squeezed by the socks that you had to wear to keep them warm. Your body just ached all over. Thumper Dixon was playing field hockey with your internal organs and the nausea you had definitely not missed was threatening to make a comeback. You just felt awful.

“The last month is the worst.” Lori commented while packing away some of Carl’s clothing. “And it’ll take a while after the baby comes to feel human again.”

“Growing a human fucking sucks.” You groused, one of Daryl’s few shirts lying spread over your torso. “And goddamnit, I have to pee. I always have to pee.”

“Means you’re hydrated at least. Silver linings.” Lori tittered. If anyone had been watching the two of you battling to your feet, it would have been worthy of more than a few chuckles.

“Thanks for going with me. Daryl would have a kitten if I went alone.” When you straightened, there was an immediate feeling of change in your body that had you looking to Lori, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I can breathe but I feel like I’m gonna piss my pants and my hips hurt.”

She smiled and placed her hands over her own round bump. “The baby dropped. You're carrying differently now. I wish we had a mirror.”

“Carrying differently? What do you—oh.” You immediately noticed when you began to massage the taut skin that the swell sat lower. You suddenly couldn’t remember a word the old man had said. Were you about to go into labor? How would Daryl know? You couldn’t do it without him.

“Easy, Y/N.” At some point, the other woman had crossed the small space and put her hands on your shoulders, your stomachs brushing against one another. “It just means the baby’s getting ready. Though, I think after this run, Daryl should probably consider staying behind on any others.” You nodded, trying to get your breathing under control. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “Let’s go take care of business and then let Hershel do his daily thing, okay?”

You nodded again, a jerky motion while you trembled. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” You followed behind her, trying to keep your mind on the fact that if you didn’t empty your bladder within the next couple of minutes, you would still be incredibly anxious but you would be so with wet pants. “Maybe the little gremlin can’t reach my ribs now.”

You felt like crap. All day, you felt heavy and sluggish, swollen and nauseous. By late afternoon, you just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Carol.” You spoke her name quietly, leaning onto the dusty countertop to pillow your head on your folded arms. You saw the concern on her face when she turned from canned foods with which she was planning small meals. You couldn’t even wave away her worry. “Do you need my help right now? I think I’d really like to lie down.”

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” She came to place a hand on your back, rubbing softly. It only succeeded in making your yearn for Daryl to be there, easing your fears in his own Daryl way. He would probably already have an aneurysm when someone told him that you’d done work, light as it was. And then you needed to tell him that the baby had indeed dropped. God, even if you didn’t tell him, he’d notice with that keen eye of his. Your stomach had shifted, still round but lower. There was so much pressure on your pelvis that you thought the bones might separate at any moment. Lori had promised that what you were feeling was normal, that it was simply new and you would take a day or two to adjust unless the baby decided to make its debut before you could.

“I just don’t feel well.” You stood straighter, nodding that she could remove her hand and you were fine. “I’d rather have Daryl come back to me feeling like shit and resting than to me feeling like shit and trying to help get things done.”

“I can’t argue with that.” She laughed.

Carol was about the only other person in the group that Daryl dropped any of his walls around. With Rick, it was all business. There was respect there, but not yet friendship. You could see it though, the subtle changes in your hunter. He was getting comfortable around these people. It was a snail’s pace but if they were anything like you hoped they were, he would be granted their patience. God knew, he had earned it.

“Come on.” Carol urged. “Let’s get you settled.”

With each step, you whined, feeling less and less like the woman you had been only months before, like she had been left behind somewhere, starved or trampled by a herd. “I hate this. Is it wrong to hate this?” You grimaced at Carol who only chuckled breathily, her hand resting on your cheek.

“It’s not wrong. This is a lot. Our bodies do a lot.” A couple of soft pats and then she bent down to straighten the bedroll and arrange the blankets.

You were watching, actually finding yourself excited to be off your feet and deciding that a nap wouldn’t be so horrible when there was a strange feeling low in your belly. It started as a gradual tightening but soon turned into an unyielding cramp, your stomach hard beneath your hands as you grabbed for your sweater. You gasped Carol’s name, could hear her clearly calling for Hershel but you couldn’t seem to respond, swallowed up by every fear that had been looming like a dark shadow for the past few weeks. The pain wasn’t even horrible, not like you had imagined at all. But it was terrifying. The only thing you could think of to do was hold the area that housed your little Thumper and whimper out Daryl’s name.

A bed had been cleared, dusted, and made for you in the downstairs room. As you laid there, resting, and stared at the half empty cup of water on the bedside table, you overheard Beth and Carl animatedly re-telling how two walkers had shuffled by the driveway gate. The children had hid and remained quiet, reporting that no others were seen once those two had moved on. You weren’t naive enough to hope that it didn’t mean more were coming. The group would need to pack up and head out likely within the next day or so.

“Braxton Hicks.” Hershel had stated matter-of-factly. He had expressed that he was actually surprised you hadn’t experienced them before then, added that maybe you had but they were so mild that you just didn’t notice. You had two more instances over the course of three hours but nothing since then, though your body seemed to be in a constant state of dread, waiting for another to happen; for it to be more than what Hershel had said. You were waiting for something to be wrong.

Beyond the dusty, tattered green curtains, you could see the light fading. Daryl would be back soon. Would he blame you for bringing this on by doing a little work? Would he be angry? He’d be beside himself with worry, that much was a given. Hershel had said you could do small chores, that it was good for you to be moving, but what if Daryl didn’t see it that way? The morning had started so perfectly. The conversation had been left unfinished but it didn’t seem to have been heading anywhere bleak.

“Ugh.” You didn’t know what was more exhausting, your body or your brain. Each time you closed your eyes, your mind ran rampant with each and every wildly negative scenario it could possibly conjure. You groaned and rolled to your other side despite the effort and apprehensiveness of even moving. Letting your eyes close yet again, you fought against the intrusive thoughts, forcing images of what Thumper might look like instead. A little girl with Daryl’s eyes and your smile. A little boy with unruly light hair like Daryl’s had been, a constant scowl. You laughed softly, wetly, shedding a few tears around your smile. No matter the sex of the baby, you hoped for Daryl’s eyes. They were the one thing to always gave him away, no matter what expression he wore. With a baby that couldn’t communicate needs and wants, you would at least have that in your corner.

At some point, you must have dozed off, opening your eyes to the sound of the old truck Daryl was driving. Looking to the window, you could see the faint light of dusk giving way to the moon. He’d kept his promise, albeit barely. You didn’t care as long as he was back. Shifting and struggling, you finally made it upright just as you heard Glenn’s all too cheerful voice, though you couldn’t make out the words. Rick’s few words trailed right after. Then there was Daryl. He spoke but then there was nothing more than hushed tones. Hershel offering the day's events, most likely. A thud was followed by echoing stomps of boots pounding against the hardwood floors.

“Where is she?” Daryl roared, closer to the door.

“She’s fine, son. She’s resting. This is normal. It just caused a bit of a fright. She just—”

“Where. Is. She?!”

The old man must have nodded or pointed because the next thing you knew, the door was swinging open with Daryl’s silhouette backdropped by the soft candlelight in the other room. His shoulders were heaving in what sounded so close to sobs that you squinted your eyes for a chance to catch his expression before he moved, startling you with how quickly he had one knee on the bed and was leaning in to check you over himself. He was filthy, mostly dirt and grime, but spots of walker blood and a cut across his cheek that was no longer bleeding.

“What happened?” You asked, reaching for his face but letting your hand hover in fear of hurting him.

“Don’t matter. Ya alright? Baby okay?” He was breathless, either from his haste to get to you or maybe just with worry. He was touching you without hesitance, his hands in a mad rush to feel your face, neck, your belly. You watched his eyes go wide and knew exactly what it meant. “Why’s it look diff’rent?”

“Thumper dropped.” His eyes were dancing back and forth as he flipped through his mental catalog of reading material and Hershel’s words. Relief was evident in his posture when he recalled what he had been searching for, but he was still tense.

“Hershel said ya was crampin’. The fake shit. Does it hurt now?” You shook your head and watched him finally sink onto his hip beside you, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Shouldn’a gone. Ya didn’t need to be alone through that.”

“Hey.” You leaned as far as you could, to guide his hand away with one hand while the other used his chin to turn his face toward you. “I wasn’t alone and we’re okay. It’s just my body getting ready.” Daryl’s head tilted, his expression displaying his gratitude for your attempts at consolation but also heavy laden with guilt for leaving you there. “Daryl, you had to go.”

“Didn’t hafta do nothin’. Could’a stayed right here where ya need me to be.”

He hadn’t asked what you had been doing. Maybe it wasn’t that important to him after all. He seemed to be more concerned with what happened and how you currently felt than anything. You truly needed to start trusting him as you wanted so badly for him to trust you. Your palm left his face and wrapped around the back of his neck, not needing much pressure to pull him to you for your lips to press against his. It was gentle and chaste, his hand leaving your belly to cup your jaw.

“We’re okay and you’re here now.” You soothed, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Just—no more runs until Thumper’s here, okay?”

“No more runs.” He agreed, his eyes closed, forehead against yours. “Ain’t leavin’ ya again.” His hand lowered back to your belly, rubbing back and forth. It was always the most tender thing you’d ever seen from him. You didn’t think him the type but he actually seemed to be calmed by the action. “D’ya need anythin’?”

“Just you.” You let him help you lie back, but he didn’t follow.

“Need to clean up. I’ll be quick.” He made to stand up but you grabbed his forearm and pulled yourself up again, not stopping once you got there. He gave in to your incessant tugging and wrapped his arms around you. “You’re gonna need to change too now.” You sniffled, trying hard not to cry, but you were just so overwhelmed with relief that he was back in one piece, that nothing bad had truly happened, that he was going to stay. “Don’t cry, woman. M’here.”

“I know. I’m just—I’m happy. I have you and Thumper. And—I don’t deserve you, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl scoffed, rubbing his cheek against the crown of your head. “Ya deserve way better than me, Sunshine.” He took a deep breath that actually shifted you against his chest and then he was tightening his embrace. “But I love ya. An’ m’here unless ya tell me to get lost.” He pulled away before you could say anything, heading quickly for the door with one last look before he walked out. You were stunned frozen, silent.

He said it.

He said it and you could feel that he meant it. His actions had always conveyed it, but hearing it from his mouth was everything.

Thumper rolled and kicked before going still, reacting to all the emotions you were feeding to them through your bond. When you laid down again, it wasn’t hard to fall asleep. No wicked images formed behind your eyes. Just those words replaying in your head, a baby’s tiny hand gripping a large finger. A child’s giggle. And then his voice again.

Your eyes didn’t want to obey when you bid them to open, the mattress dipping beside you, the sheets moving. A warm arm pulled you against an even warmer body, enveloping you in a veil of safety.

Everything would be okay.

Because you loved Daryl.

And Daryl loved you.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #blood ties #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #pregnant!reader #daddy!daryl incoming #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon the walking dead

389 notes · View notes

sports-on-sundays · 7 months ago

Note

hii can u write smth about hector and reader being best friends bc their parents are very close friends, and him realizing that he is down bad for her after having a small talk with his mother.

Please and thank u, love ur written btw 💝

mama's boy / Héctor Fort

Summary: Héctor x best friend!reader - Héctor being a stupid little adorable idiot in love.

Warnings: censored cuss

Requested?: Yes.

"Why don't you two go out on the front porch?" your mother suddenly brings up. Though, yes, you and Héctor are seventeen now, and should be able to sit through an adult conversation with your parents and stay respectful without being antsy, everyone knows that's not true.

But still. Being asked to go out on the front porch? That can never be a good sign.

"Why?" you demand. "The weather is so gross out."

"Because Mama told you to," your father pipes in sternly. "Now, go on. You can go with Héctor. We adults are allowed to have a conversation without your ears listening."

You're about to protest further, but then Héctor, sitting next to you, gives you a little nudge. "Oh, come on. You're so disrespectful to your parents. Just come on out with me."

You frown but stand up dramatically, following him outside.

The truth is, it's embarrassing having to sit alone with a boy like Héctor.

Not because he's creepy, or not nice. No, it's because he is nice. He's nicer than every other boy you know, and you never know how to react to him.

You plop down on the porch swing with him. He starts using his long legs to swing the two of you back and forth, and you tuck your (shorter) legs up, sitting criss cross.

"It's beautiful and sunny out. What's gross about today?"

You pout a little. "So humid."

"Oh, come on, now. It's fine."

You cross your arms and stare out at the sunny view behind Héctor's house, and the bright colors make it easy to forget your grumpy mood as you ask with a soft giggle, looking to Héctor, "What do you think our parents are talking about?" When you look to Héctor, he immediately looks away from you.

But you caught the split second of his big brown eyes staring at you.

But he shrugs casually. "Probably just boring stuff."

"Do you think it could be about us?"

Héctor smiles, chuckling a bit at the question. "Maybe, but I'm not going to worry about it."

You shrug. You sure want to think about it, but since Héctor brushes it off so easily, you suppose you may as well do the same.

You sit together in silence, swinging back and forth.

And for you, this just feels like a normal, nice breezy day, sitting with a family friend.

But for Héctor, deep down inside, this feels like more.

He watches the way your eyes seem to glimmer in the sunlight. The way your hair gently tosses in the warm breeze. How the sunlight seems to light up your face. He wonders what you're thinking about as you look out. He looks at your smooth hands, sitting in your lap, and all at once, it hits him.

He blushes deep red, looking away.

She's gorgeous.

"Y/n-" he suddenly says, not knowing what to say, but knowing he has to say something.

"Yeah?" you look over casually.

"You, uh... You're... I think your- uh."

"Yeah?" you lean in expectantly.

"Your shoelace is untied. You should tie it. Don't want you to trip," he quickly comes up with.

You shrug and lean down, tying your shoe.

"Was there anything else?" you ask once you finish, looking at him again.

But then suddenly, before he can come up with some other awkward response, the screen door behind you opens, and Héctor's mama walks out. "Hey, you two," she smiles. "Héc, Y/n needs to go now with her parents. So say goodbye."

You grin, glancing to him and giving him a playful nudge. "Bye, Héc."

He rolls his eyes, but he feels his face flush. "Only my mama can call me that."

"If you say so. Héc," you say with a giggle as you stand up. You wave to him, thank his mother, and walk into the house to go to the front, where your parents will be waiting to go home.

Meanwhile, when Héctor's mother is about to go back into the house, he suddenly says, "Wait. Mama. Can... Can you sit down next to me? Just for a few minutes?"

She smiles a bit and sits down next to her son on the porch swing. "Of course." The two sit there silently for a few minutes, before Héctor's mother finally says, "So... You really like that girl, don't you?"

Héctor swallows. "I... I don't know. I guess... I guess she's just really pretty. And I've known her for so long."

His mother smiles, giving his shoulder a little pat, and teases, "Does my boy have a crush?"

Just at those words, his heart rate quickens. "Crush?! I don't know if it's a crush..."

"Sounds like it to me," she chuckles. "And it's looked like you've had one on her for quite a while now, but you're just too scared to admit it..."

"Mama..." Héctor sighs, putting his warm face in his hand.

"Yes?" she smiles.

He's quite for a few seconds, before muttering, "I think you're right..."

"About what?" she grins.

"That... Well, I don't know. I kind of... I love every single second I get to be with her. It's like I'm down bad for her. F*cking mad for this girl."

"Hey, young man," she chuckles. "Watch your tongue."

"Right," he rolls his eyes, but then comments, "But do you know what I mean? Like, what I'm saying?"

"Oh, Héctor," she chuckles. "Of course I do. Can't get her out of your mind, can you?"

Héctor seems to just flush even more at this. "I guess not..."

She smiles, patting her son's shoulder a bit as she stands up. "Well, even if you don't think so, I bet she likes you back."

"She doesn't act like it."

"Oh, come on, now. How d'you know? Girls are different than guys. She'd be a good girl for you. I mean, your mama approves of her," she adds with a chuckle.

"So, what are you saying?" Héctor asks slowly, looking up to meet his mother's eyes.

She smiles a bit as she opens the screen door to go inside. "I'm saying that you should think about asking her out on a date sometime."

And she goes back inside, leaving Héctor as a flustered mess of swarming thoughts, to think over that decision on his own.

"Hey, Y/n," Héctor says immediately when he sees you next, which is, this time, a visit at your family home, to have some dinner. It's like he's made a beeline toward you and now stands in front of you. "Dinner won't be ready right away, right?"

You shake your head slowly. "No, I reckon not. Why?"

"Could we... like, I don't know... Go to your room or something?"

You shrug and nod, leading him there. "Sure. I don't see why not." When you make it there, you sit down on the bed together. You lean back against your pillows, but Héctor sits there very stiffly. After a few seconds of silence, you say, "So... what's up?"

Suddenly he turns to you, takes your hand, and blurts, "Uh- Friday? Evening? Would you be free for me to take you out, for, like, dinner someplace?"

You stare back, eyebrows shooting up. You glance at your hands. "Like, on a date?"

Héctor feels the soft skin of your smaller hand. "Yeah... Right, like on a date."

"O- Oh... Yeah, sure... I guess so. Yeah, we can do that."

He seems to let out a long breath of relief as you ask, "Where to?"

"You choose?"

"Surprise me," you grin. "But not too fancy. Don't go overboard."

Then he mutters, "Maybe I'll just ask my mama what she thinks."

"What?" you ask with a chuckle.

"Nothing!" he blushes.

"I heard you!"

He glances away, shifting, but holds your hand tighter.

You grin and comment, "You like me a lot, don't you?"

He drags his hand over his face, clearly very embarrassed.

But even as you teasingly smile, your cheeks are heating up a bit, too. "You've always been so sweet with me... Now it makes sense. So, what, did your mama finally help you figure it out? That you like me, and I like you back?"

"You do?!" his head shoots up, his eyes shining like stars.

You grin and nod a little, but say, "You never answered my question, Héc."

He sighs, glancing away, but chuckles, "Maybe..."

You grin. "So, in other words, 'yes.'" You grin and suddenly lean in. You grin press your lips to his blazing warm red cheek and murmur close to his ear, "You've always been your mama's boy."

He just buries his face in his hands, an embarrassed, adorable, overwhelmed-with-emotions mess.

But honestly, maybe he's not so bad.

He might even be a little cute.

305 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

my girl 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother’s friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You drive your mom to the airport while your dad and brother are at work. You’re sad to see her walk away. You wait until she’s through the security check and you can no longer see her. The ride home is silent as you’re too upset to turn the stereo on.

You pull up to the house and stay in the car for a while. It will be weird to go into an empty house. It isn’t that unusual. When your mom’s at work, you’re often by yourself. Usually, you bask in the solace but not it’s just grim. You don’t feel like reading so much as the thought ties a knot in your heart.

How long had you spent bound by the pages of a book when you should’ve been with your mom? She won’t be gone that long but it feels like it.

You go inside at last and decide to get dinner started. Your mother always enjoys her time in the kitchen. Often her singing made you frown into your book but now you long for it. Grow up! She’s not been gone for more than two hours and you’re pouting like a child.

You peruse the pantry and the fridge and finally come up with a plan. It shouldn’t be that intensive. You’ll get the ingredients together but you won’t have to start right away. Fajitas are easy enough.

You go back to your room and sit on your bed. You glance over at the book sitting by your pillow and sigh. You twiddle your fingers then stand and pace listlessly. You can’t focus on fiction right now, the real is too... real.

So, you go outside and sit on the grass, admiring the flowers your mom loves almost as much as her food processor. One day you might be like her. With actual hobbies instead of escapism.

You lay down in the warmth of the sun, the smell of pollen and the buzz of bees around you. You shade your face from the bright afternoon and recede into your mind. The summer heat lulls you down into daze and time fades into an afterthought.

You swear you smell pepperoni as you nose wiggles in the breeze. You sigh. The thought of cooking in this weather only makes you sweat more.

“Y’okay?” The deep grizzly timbre makes you fling your hand away from your face as you blink up at the great orcish shadow. You sit up, leaning on the heels of your hand as you gape up at the burly beast. Sy’s figure comes clear as your vision adjusts to the hue, “what’re you doin’ down there?”

“Um,” you blink dumbly, “sorry, I... hi?”

“You hurt or something?” He wonders, his eyes searching you with concern.

“No, I just... like the flowers,” you say, “where’s Isaac?” You look towards the fence then back at him.

“Said he was comin’,” he grits, “stoppin’ at some buddy’s place but I said I’d meet him here.”

“Ah, you coming for dinner? My mom left today.”

“I know,” he puts his hands on his hips. Somehow, he looks even bigger, especially looking up from the ground. “Good lady. I brought pizza. It’s on the porch. Figure you’d be missin’ her.”

“Pizza? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he moves closer and you tense, shying away.

He grunts as he bends, putting his hand on the grass and swings himself around to sit beside you. Now he just seems gargantuan. He crosses his thick legs and looks up through his dark sunglasses. His cheeks tauten as he peers up at the clouds.

“When I was overseas,” he says, “used to watch the sky a lot. Reminded me of home. Only thing that was the same.”

You peer up and back down. You don’t have sunglasses. You always lay in the shade or read indoors.

“Overseas?” You echo, “you... you lived somewhere else?”

“Served,” he sets his head straight, toying with a dandelion by his boot, swirling his finger around the yellow head, “you know, young and angry and all. Now I’m just old and cranky.”

You consider him. You guess he looks like a solider. Maybe that’s why you keep seeing a beastly warrior.

“It must’ve been... well, I wouldn’t know,” you say, “scary?”

“Could be, but only after,” he says. You don’t think he’s ever talked so much. “When you’re in it, you just get through it.”

“Oh.”

He’s quiet and he picks the dandelion out of the ground. He twirls it between his fingers. He looks over at you but you can’t see his eyes through the black lenses.

“Sweet girls shouldn’t deal with all that,” he reaches over and tucks the flower behind your ear.

You’re frozen in place at the unexpected gestures. He grunts as he gets himself to his knees and stands. He rubs his lower back and stretches out his neck.

“I’ll get those pizzas inside before the ants find ‘em,” he marches away without a glance back, leaving you perplexed at your interaction. You’re no good with people but that was odd.

You linger and touch the stem of the flower poking out behind your ear. You don’t remove it. It was a nice gesture. You get up and cross the lawn.

You go inside and hear him in the kitchen. As you enter, he’s washing his hands. You peer over at him sheepishly.

“How long do you think Isaac would be? My dad’s getting drinks with his friends tonight. He always does on Friday.”

“Ah, not long, I think. We can wait for him,” Sy shuts off the tap and dries his hands. “I finished the book.”

“You... did?”

“Gonna start the next one tomorrow,” he says, “day off. Might go down to the beach. Ain’t been in... years. Don’t like hot sand.”

Again, you’re put off by his chatter. He’s never been overly talkative, not even with your brother who he spends hours with a day. He’s always friendly with a ‘ma’am’ or a ‘sir’ in your parents’ direction but you don’t know anything about him for a reason. You wonder if Isaac knows he was a soldier.

“That sounds nice, I haven’t been in a while either,” you smile.

He nods and moves towards the pizza boxes, “I can put these in the oven, keep em warm.”

“Sure, if you don’t mind,” you accept. “Um, I’ll set the table.”

He grunts in acquiescence. You go to the cupboard and take down plates. Not as many as usual. You’re once more reminded of your mother’s absence.

You put them on the table and go back for cutlery. Realising you won’t need any, you grab paper towel instead and leave it with the plates. You open the fridge as Sy hovers by counter. He seems uncertain.

“You don’t need to stick around. Unless you want something to drink. I was just seeing what we had to go with dinner.”

“Ah, dang, I forgot to grab the special with soda,” he says.

“All good, um, I... I have strawberry soda. Mom bought them for me,” you take out one of the bottles and show him, “they are super sweet thought. I mix mine with club soda.”

He hums, “might try some. With dinner.”

“Alright,” you close the door, confident there’ll be enough to drink. Isaac only likes Mountain Dew anyway. “Erm...”

You face him and he wavers on his feet. For a man his size, he looks almost nervous. He takes his hat off and squeezes the beak.

“Sorry, should be wearin’ this inside,” he chuckles.

“I don’t mind.”

Silence. Again. You reach up and mindlessly play with the flower. He watches your hand and you drop it.

“What... what are you reading? Anything good?” He asks.

“Um, nothing new,” you answer and fold your hands together, “that bookmark you made me is super nice. I like it a lot.”

“Figure you could use it.”

“Thanks, it was so... nice of you to think of me.”

His cheeks round and his cheeks strain as a smile spreads under his beard and he runs his hand over the coarse hair, “ain’t nothing.” He looks around as he slides his hand back to scratch his neck, “how about I go keep an eye out for your brother. Hope he didn’t get lost.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #series #drabble #my girl #au #sand castle

163 notes · View notes

lewmagoo · 6 months ago

Text

trouble's always gonna find you | rhett abbott

description: in which you know he's no good for you, but you just can't stay away

pairing: rhett abbott x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ only, dark themes, questionable morals, non-graphic description of a gunshot wound, mentions of death, allusions to crime, unprotected p in v sex (on the floor lol), choking, creampie

notes: i have no idea what this even is, but as soon as i saw these pictures for the first time yesterday, i started writing this fic. i just wanted to write something mysterious and different. and i'm proud of myself for finishing a fic for the first time in months. i may also write more installments for this story in the future, depending on how well it's received.

You couldn’t sleep.

It was late July, and the air was heavy and thick with humidity. You felt as if you lived in a swamp. Which, essentially, that was what Florida was. Your skimpy tank top and shorts did little to cool you down, but foregoing clothes wouldn’t offer you much relief.

And to make matters worse, the small window unit that cooled your entire double-wide had broken, leaving you without a way to cool down. So, you found yourself outside, seated on your porch swing as you stared out into the night.

Your neighborhood was quiet. As it should be, at 2 o’clock in the morning. You were enjoying the peace, listening to the throaty calls of frogs and other nightlife. If it hadn’t been so miserably hot, you might have even felt serene.

That is, until the sound of a rickety old pickup truck approaching interrupted all the frogs and cicadas and crickets. You froze, your eyes widening as you watched the truck approach. A blue, beat-up GMC Sierra, circa 2006.

The vehicle came to a stop at the trailer directly next to yours. You rose to your feet, immediately stepping toward the edge of your porch, watching as the driver shut off the engine and proceeded to climb out of the truck, heavy work boots thudding against the ground.

Your stomach twisted as you realized that he was hurt. The hand pressed against his left shoulder alerted you to that much. And even in the darkness, you could see the crimson shade of blood seeping through the fingers that remained against his shoulder.

He made eye contact with you as he limped toward the door of his trailer. You weren’t sure if he even wanted to see you, but you found your legs moving of their own accord, carrying you toward him, toward the man you knew that you never should have gotten tangled up with. The man who had more skeletons in his closet than you could ever count.

The man named Rhett Abbott.

He’d stepped inside already, but he’d left the door open, knowing you were following him. You stepped onto the ramshackle porch that squeaked beneath your feet and made you feel as if it was going to give way and send you falling to the ground underneath it.

Hesitating, you stood in the doorway for a moment before your feet crossed over the threshold. You glanced around, eyes adjusting to the warm glow of the lamp he had turned on as he came through.

“Rhett?” You cautiously called out. You shut the door behind you as you walked further into the trailer, old, orange shag carpet soft beneath the soles of your sandals. You walked down the dim hall, toward the bathroom, where you finally saw him.

He was hunched over the sink, hands whiteknuckling the counter. He was trembling, fighting to keep his breathing steady. “Rhett?” You spoke again as you came to a stop in the bathroom doorway.

Now that you were closer, you could see that his shoulder injury was actually a gunshot wound. Your eyes went wide and your chest tightened. “Who did this?” You asked. The heavy weight of dread washed over you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he gruffed.

“Yes it does.”

He looked at you in the mirror, his gaze harsh. “You know who did it.”

A chill ran down your spine. He’d always refused to share the details of his job with you. You knew that he drove semi trucks for a living, but early on, you had learned that he transported materials for some dangerous people. You had no idea who they were, or what he actually transported for them, and he had sworn to you that you never would know, either.

You knew that you were foolish for getting involved with a man like him. But somewhere along the way, you had fallen in love with him, and now, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Maybe it was because some part of you believed that you could somehow fix him. Save him from himself.

But Rhett Abbott didn’t want to be saved. Whatever it was that he was involved in had him chained down like a prisoner. He couldn’t leave. Not even your love for him was strong enough to pull him away.

“I can’t leave,” he murmured to you one night, as you lay in bed with him. “They’ll kill me if I do.”

Those words had stuck with you ever since. And now, every time he left, you feared that this time, he might not come back. And now, seeing him hunched over his bathroom sink with a bullet wound in his shoulder, you were struck with a wave of nausea.

“But…but why? Why did they do this?” You whispered.

He shook his head, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “The less you know, the safer you are,” he responded.

You stepped forward, reaching your hands out, touching either side of his face. His stubble was rough beneath your palms. You wanted to ask so many more questions, but you knew he was right. Despite your involvement with him already being a risk to your safety, he did what he could to protect you still. And part of that was disclosing as little as possible with you about his line of work.

The people he worked for were capable of heinous things. He had witnessed these things firsthand. Unspeakable acts of violence and depravity. He would cut off his own arm before he let you be subjected to those things.

“Can I at least help you take care of this wound?” You softly questioned.

His lashes fluttered. “Mhm.”

You let go of his face. “Go sit at the kitchen table. And take your shirt off, if you can.”

He let out a breath, nodding almost imperceptibly before he stepped around you, leaving you to scrounge up whatever first aid items you could find in the bathroom as he took a seat in the kitchen. Wooden chair legs scraped against cracked linoleum as he sat down. There, he took his hat off, tossing it onto the table before gingerly removing his bloodied shirt.

The wound wasn’t that bad. In fact, it could have been much worse. It was only a warning. If the man holding the gun had been intending to kill him, Rhett would already be dead. Instead, he had a nick in his shoulder, and he doubted it would even need stitches.

As you approached with gauze and rubbing alcohol, he eyed you, and felt a sadness building in his chest, clouding his lungs like wildfire smoke, making it difficult to breathe. He was selfish to keep you in his life. He needed to let you go. But he knew that he wasn’t strong enough to do so.

As stoic as he appeared, he cared for you deeply. Hell, he loved you. And that terrified him, because in his experience, whenever he loved someone, they were ripped away from him. He tried to tell himself this time would be different. But that was merely wishful thinking.

“I wish you’d leave this job,” you murmured as you soaked a piece of gauze in alcohol. You used it to wipe the blood from his skin, cleaning the area around his wound. As it came in contact with the gash, he hissed only slightly. He’d endured far worse pain in his life.

“Can’t,” he simply said.

You sighed as you tossed the bloodied gauze in the trash. “Why? Is this what they’ll do to you if you try? Will they kill you for leaving?”

In the low light, his gaze flickered up to meet yours. His chest heaved slightly. “Don’t ask me anythin’ else about it.”

“Why not?!”

“Because they could take you from me! And I can’t lose you!” He shouted, his outburst causing you to jump in surprise.

You stared at him, your body tense, your breath trapped in your lungs for a brief moment as you processed his words. You didn’t know how to respond. So you did the only thing you could think of. You reached for him, pulling his body toward yours, letting his head rest upon your abdomen as one of your hands came up to run through his hair.

He was trembling. So were you. You realized that you had never fully grasped the gravity of the situation until now. This was, quite literally, life or death. A clear reason to walk away, to leave him behind and find another place to live, for your own safety. And yet, you didn’t walk away.

You stayed right there, in the middle of his kitchen, in a rundown little trailer in the middle of a Florida trailer park, holding him close. You were already in over your head. What was allowing yourself to sink a few more feet into the water going to change?

“Sorry for yellin’,” he mumbled as you finally pulled away to continue tending to his wound. His voice trembled.

“I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about me,” came your soft response. Your tone wasn’t accusatory.

Rhett was a hard man to read. You had met him two years prior, when he’d first moved into the trailer next door to yours. He’d come to Florida, of all places, for a fresh start. Claimed the reason he’d chosen this place was because it was as far away from his hometown as he could get.

The attraction between you was there. It resulted in a casual romp between the sheets, that soon turned into both of you catching feelings. Around that time, Rhett started a new job at a trucking company, which meant he was gone for days at a time. And that was all well and good, until he started coming home with a haunted look in his eyes and an uneasy countenance.

He wouldn’t tell you what had happened. Refused to share any details. He insisted that it was for your own safety. But it only created a sinking feeling of unease in your gut. Whoever he’d gotten involved with was powerful.

You knew he cared about you in some way, because he was so adamant about protecting you. But he wasn’t much for words. He’d never truly expressed how much you meant to him.

But now, as you stood before him in his kitchen, it was finally out in the open. He was terrified of losing you. Couldn’t stomach the thought of you being taken from him. You could see it in his eyes. Raw fear that made you shiver.

“‘Course I feel that way about you,” he whispered. “I know ‘m shit with expressin’ my feelings, but…you mean so much to me, an’ I can’t– I can’t stomach the thought of losin’ you.” He’d never forgive himself if he ended up being the reason for harm coming to you. In his heart, he knew you were safest if you weren’t associated with him at all, but selfishly, he couldn’t let you go.

You sighed softly as you moved to finish patching him up, smoothing medical tape over the gauze so it would stay in place. “For what it’s worth, I really care about you, Rhett. I don’t know exactly what you’re tied up in, and maybe I’m stupid for sticking with you because of it. But I want to be with you. I want this to work.”

“Me too,” he hummed, watching as you gathered up all of the first aid paraphernalia, tossing the used items into the trash.

“I just hate seeing you come home hurt,” you added on, voice thick with emotion. “And it…it scares me, what they could do to you. You say you’re afraid to lose me, but did you ever stop to think that I feel the same way about losing you?”

He nodded, his eyes downcast. If he was looking at you, you would have been able to see the raw emotion glimmering in his eyes. “I’ll…I’ll figure out a way to leave this job. I promise,” came his confession.

You took his face in your hands, thumbs gently rubbing circles against his cheeks. “I hope you do,” you replied.

He took a deep, unsteady breath before he released it. Your touch calmed him, melting some of the tension he carried upon his shoulders. His large hands came up to rest upon your hips, and he pulled you closer, slotting you between his knees.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, fingers slotting into the curls at the nape of his neck. His hair had gotten longer since you’d seen him last. He was in need of a haircut. You would likely end up giving him one outside in the yard one of these days.

His stubble had grown out, too. He looked weathered and tired, but still so handsome.

His lashes fluttered at the feeling of your fingers brushing against the skin of his neck, and he shivered slightly. It had been a while since he had felt the tenderness of your touch. He hadn’t realized how starved he was for it.

Slowly, you leaned in, gaze flickering to his lips before you caught his eye. He gave the faintest of nods, giving you permission before you gently captured his lips with your own.

He melted into you, a soft grunt leaving his throat as you kissed him. His heart rate quickened in his chest, his skin heating.

You were dressed in your little tank top and shorts, and he could feel how warm you were against his bare torso. As his large hands splayed over your hips, the fabric of your shorts rode up, granting him access to the swell of your ass.

He broke the kiss, breathing rushed as he pressed his face against the side of your neck, mouth open against your skin.

“Need you,” he gasped. He was desperate to feel your body against his again. Desperate to have that connection with you. After all he’d been through, he craved tenderness.

As one of his hands came up to paw at your breast through the thin fabric of your tank top, you knew you could not resist. You wanted him, too.

Your knees went weak as he tugged your top town further, his tongue laving at the exposed swell of your chest. One hand remained tangled in his hair, guiding his head further into you. “Need you too,” came your breathless response.

He looked up at you then, and you saw unbridled desire in his eyes. “I…” he began, but trailed off, unsure of how to express what he truly wanted. He was overcome with such an intense wave of emotions. He might even describe himself as being ravenous for you. Having a near brush with death had brought out an almost feral yearning for you.

What was soon to follow would not be gentle. It would be animalistic. Somehow, you knew this. So you nodded your head. “It’s okay. Take what you need.”

So he stood from his chair, one hand holding the side of your neck as he pulled you in to kiss you again, his hulking frame hunched over you. His mouth locked with yours again, kissing you deeply as he backed you into the kitchen table.

He guided you to sit upon the smooth wood, and he immediately slotted himself between your thighs. His stubble was rough against your skin, creating a delicious burn that made you shudder. Then he trailed his mouth down your jaw, teeth nipping at you as he went lower. You gasped, back arching, body pressing into his as he shifted his attention to your neck.

Then he yanked your tank top down, exposing your breasts. One of which he gripped in his hand, the other he attended to with his mouth, teeth grazing your nipple, causing it to harden beneath his touch.

Your fingers tugged at his hair, and you could feel the molten heat beginning to settle between your legs. Being this close to him, breathing in his scent, feeling his body against yours, was so overwhelming. You had missed him so terribly.

Being in your proximity was affecting him, too. He grabbed your hand, bringing it down below his belt, alerting you to what you’d done to him. You gasped softly at the feeling of his hardness. You ached for him, longing to have him inside you, joined as one.

In a flurry of need, you reached to undo his belt buckle, hands fumbling, eager, impatient. He watched you for a moment before he pushed your hands away and finished the job himself.

Then those big hands of his were pulling your shorts down your legs, completely removing them, tossing them aside. Then came your tank top, which he all but ripped over your head, the flimsy fabric protesting in the form of popping seams as he did so.

Now, you were fully exposed to him, laying bare naked on his kitchen table, staring up at him, silently begging him to take things further. He ducked forward, trailing his tongue over your abdomen and up between your breasts, tasting the salt of the sweat on your skin.

Then he moved to kiss you again, tongue delving into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. As he did this, he brought his hand down between your legs, dipping his middle and ring fingers inside you. You gasped at the feeling of the thick digits, and he pressed his forehead to yours as he fucked you with his fingers, with the intention of making you wetter than you already were, so he could fuck you with ease.

With his left hand, he grabbed your throat, ignoring the twinge of pain in his injured shoulder. He applied just the slightest bit of pressure to your neck, fingers pressing into the sides, intentionally avoiding your airway so that you would be able to breathe with ease. Your eyes went wide, and you gasped sharply, mouth falling open.

Rhett could feel the way you suddenly tightened around him, and it sent his blood rushing south, cock growing even harder. He could feel you, even slicker around his fingers. You’d begun to drip like a juicy peach bitten into on a hot summer's day, coating his hand in your molten arousal. It pulled a breathless groan from his throat.

He pulled his hand back then, lifting it to his mouth to suck your wetness off his fingers before he hurriedly began unbuckling his belt. You watched him, dazed. You found yourself suddenly desperate for him, your desire to have him inside you completely overwhelming you senses.

Your eyes flickered downward, unable to tear your gaze away as he tugged his jeans and underwear down, exposing his hard, leaking cock. You whimpered softly, biting your lip as you quite literally began to salivate like a starving animal at the sight of him.

Rhett tipped your chin up then, so you were looking into his face. "Keep your eyes on me" he instructed, and you obeyed, staring into the deep blue, so dark it was almost like looking into the midnight sky.

He aligned himself with you, and in one carefully timed thrust, he was fully seated inside you. No hesitation. No easing into you to let you adjust. He made you take him all at once. You let out a cry at the feeling, and he watched the way your brow furrowed, the way your mouth fell open. In the yellow light of his trailer, you looked so heavenly, like a deity sent to grace him with your presence. He wanted to commit your features to memory.

With one hand pressed against the table and the other cradling the back of your head, he began to move. Slowly at first, working up to a rhythm. You melted in his arms, moaning lowly at the feeling of him stretching you, sliding into your tight, slick heat before pulling back again. His thickness filled you in such a satisfying way.

Rhett leaned back to watch his cock disappear within you with each push of his hips into your own. The sight of you stretching to accommodate him had his knees going weak. A switch was flipped in his arousal-clouded brain. He wasn’t going to fuck you slowly. He was going to take you hard and fast.

You cried out as he quickened his movements, driving himself into you deeply before pulling back, just to do it all over again. the force of which caused the legs of the kitchen table to scrape against the linoleum floor. However, the harder he fucked you, he found that the table was inching its way back, moving across the floor little by little. To solve this problem, he lifted you, inside you still as he lowered you to the kitchen floor, one hand supporting the back of your head so you wouldn't bump it on the way down.

You gazed up at him, completely overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. His frame was hulking over yours. He was so broad, he could make almost anyone feel small beside him. But despite his roughness, despite all that he was tied up in that had hardened him this way, you knew you were safe here, connected to the man that you loved. You weren’t sure when you realized you were in love with him, but the realization had been painful, because you knew you shouldn’t be involved with a man like him.

Yet here you were, on his kitchen floor, letting him fuck you. You were in too deep now.

You lifted her back off the ground, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair as you pulled him down to kiss her. "Nobody else gets to do this to me," you breathed. "Only you." Because that was the truth. No matter how many times he left, or how long he was gone, he was the only man you wanted.

A growl escaped his throat as he ducked forward to kiss you hard, resuming his pace, though this time, he went harder. He placed his hands on the floor by either side of your head, using his strength to drive himself into you. There was an intensity in his face, a look that seemed almost animalistic. Mouth curled into a snarl. Brow furrowed.

Beneath him, you whimpered and wailed at the feeling of him inside you. Your pretty, broken sounds were music to his ears. He wanted to hear them always.

And when you asked for more, he gave it to you. He ground against you each time his hips met yours, his pubic bone pressing into your sensitive gathering of nerves. This sent you shuddering in pleasure, head thrown back as electricity crackled through you.

Your chests were pressed together, heartbeats and breaths intertwining, joining you as one. You clutched at him, careful to avoid his injured shoulder as your fingers dug into the rippling muscles of his back. You felt as if you might float away, each ripple of ecstasy stronger than the last.

It felt so dirty to be fucked into the kitchen floor, and yet, your entire body was a live wire, crackling and sparking beneath him as you wailed and cried and begged for more. Rhett captured your cries in his open mouth, kissing you languidly, gasping against your lips, moaning your name, swearing under his breath.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, shifting your hips up to meet each thrust, trying to chase that delicious spark that you felt each time he grinded against you. But Rhett wasn’t going to let you do all the work.

To help you plummet toward your end more quickly, he slipped his good arm between your bodies, hand quickly locating the place you needed him most, deft fingers swirling against your swollen clit. You arched into him, mouth falling open as you gripped his arm, nails digging into the meat of it.

“Wan’ you to come for me,” he growled, teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

The pressure he used against your swollen, twitching clit was certainly going to cause that to happen. “C-close!” You squeaked.

He nodded, lock of hair falling against his forehead. “I know. Can feel y’ squeezin’ me.”

Your pussy was involuntarily clenching around him, and you could feel the evidence of your arousal dripping from you, soaking his shaft, creating a puddle on the floor beneath you. Rhett could feel it, too, and it made him shudder above you.

“S’fuckin wet.”

All you could do was whimper, jolting against him as he offered a particularly deep thrust. “O-oh my g–ah!”

You wrapped both arms around him, and locked your legs in place, holding on for dear life as he fucked you into the floor, grunting and growling as he did, the weight of his body heavy against your own, but not overwhelmingly so. Oddly enough, the weight felt almost comforting. It grounded you, and if only for a moment, you felt as if nothing could take you away from him. You were safe. You were shielded.

And then he was in your ear, gritting out, “c’mon baby, need y’ to come for me. Come all over me, just let go.”

And oh, you wanted to give it all to him. Wanted to succumb to the intensity roiling deep within you. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears of pleasure slipping down the sides of your face as you did so. You felt hot all over, buzzing from head to toe, near your boiling point.

Rhett leaned back, bringing his hand to your throat all over again, pressing his fingertips into the sides, cutting off your blood flow. Your eyes shot open, and your gaze locked with his as you let out a sound between a shriek and a gasp. The restricted blood flow made your head spin, and suddenly, you felt as if you were floating above yourself, in the midst of an out-of-body experience.

Everything you felt was heightened tenfold, and you were very quickly overwhelmed.

“I said, come,” he growled.

And you did. Whether it was on command, or your body was already tipping over the edge, you didn’t know. But what you did know was, you were plunged into the throes of an orgasm so intense, you swore you blacked out for a moment. Searing ecstasy rippled through you, spreading from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

You cried out Rhett’s name, holding onto him for dear life as you convulsed beneath him, pulsing around his cock. He had to fight to hold it together, because he was moments away from his own end, and he wanted to enjoy you like this for a moment longer before he let go.

He watched you in awe, amazed at how beautiful you were when you were in such a state of unbridled pleasure. As you writhed in his arms, he held you, keeping you grounded when you felt like you’d float away.

As you slowly came down from the intensity, Rhett took that as his cue to pick up his pace, kissing you when you began to whimper from the sensitivity. "I'm gonna fill you to the brim," he gritted out, voice strained as he approached his own release.

You welcomed it, you begged for it, longing to feel his essence spilling deep within you. And he gave it to you. With nothing short of a roar, Rhett came undone. He buried his face against your neck as he lost himself, hips pressed tightly to yours as he spasmed and filled you with his warmth. You held him close, shivering at the sensation.

Still breathless, his body relaxed against your own, though he was careful not to rest dead weight on you. As he slowly regained his composure, he lifted his head, moving to plant a deep kiss on your lips.

You held his face in your hands as you kissed him back. But your connection could only last for so long. His cock was beginning to soften within you, and you could feel his seed dripping between your thighs, joining the mess you’d already made on the floor.

Although he didn't want to part from you, he knew he couldn't stay this way forever. So eased himself from you, soothing you with another kiss before he lifted his head to gaze between your legs at the mess he'd made.

Wordlessly, he swiped his fingers through your combined mess, and then brought those fingers to your mouth. Eagerly, you parted your lips, tasting your shared arousal, sucking his digits clean. He hummed low in his throat. The sight was nearly enough to have him growing hard all over again.

But he gave you both a moment of reprieve, moving to settle beside you on the floor, as you stared up at the aged popcorn ceiling together. His hand rested on his abdomen, while the other searched for your own hand, interlacing your fingers.

“I missed you,” you whispered into the silence.

He hummed. “I missed y’ too.”

The heaviness of reality had begun to set in as the afterglow faded and your conversation grew serious. You moved to prop yourself up on your elbow, gazing down at Rhett. “Should I be worried about you coming home with more gunshot wounds from now on?” You asked, as you lovingly traced your fingers around the area you had covered with gauze.

He sighed. “I…I can’t promise it won’t happen again. But I want ya to know, I’m gonna figure out a way to quit this job, alright? You deserve a better life. A better man. And I can be a better man. I just gotta clean up the mess I made first.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

But the truth was, Rhett wasn’t sure that he could keep that promise. He would try, dammit, he’d try. But he was very well aware that going through with it could result in his own life being snuffed out.

And that night, as he lay in bed, with you sleeping soundly by his side, he considered what might happen to you if he ended up meeting a premature end. He had several thousand in cash stuffed into a loose floorboard in the closet. You could live off of that for a while.

He just wanted to make sure you were taken care of in the event that something happened to him.

The thought made him uneasy. But as he gazed upon your peaceful form, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he wanted to build a beautiful life with you. He wanted to take you away from all of this, away from this hick trailer park, and give you a home worth living in.

But the only way he could do any of those things, was by breaking the shackles that held him down. He had to walk away from the line of work that he was tied up in, and he had to do it now, otherwise, he’d never be free.

So, in the wee hours of the morning, just before sunrise, he slipped away. He wrote you a note, left you a twenty dollar bill to buy yourself breakfast with, and left a featherlight kiss against your temple before he walked out to meet fate.

When you woke a few hours later, you found his note on the wobbly old nightstand beside the bed.

It read, Went to try and fix things. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Buy yourself some breakfast with this 20. If I’m not back in a week, there’s a few grand under the loose floorboard in my closet. Take it and move far away from here, because it won’t be safe for you to stay here anymore.

P.S. I know I’m shit at words, but I just want you to know, I love you. Hope I see you soon. - Rhett.

You stared at his barely legible writing, your chest tightening with uncertainty. What on earth did he mean by if I’m not back in a week? A pit of dread formed in your gut. You knew he was trying to leave his job, but would doing so cost him his life?

You so badly wanted him to have his freedom back, but what good would that freedom do him if he was dead?

You didn’t buy breakfast with the money he left you that morning. You felt much too sick to your stomach, knowing he was deliberately putting himself in danger. But there was nothing you could do about it. You had no idea where he had gone, nor did you have any clue where to start looking for him.

All you were left to do was worry, and wonder if you would ever see the man you loved again.

tagging (those who expressed interest in the concept post i made): @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @attapullman @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @floydsmuse @hangmanapologist @bobfloydsbabe @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @milesmillergf @laracrofted @floydsglasses @westpastor @seitmai-too @topherwrites

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction

225 notes · View notes

juneberrie · 4 months ago

Text

PICNICS & RINGS

request || equestria girls!apple jack x fem!reader

summary: "i told you she'd say yes!"

ⓘ word count : 1.2k || applejack masterlist

applejack had a plan. she had a plan, and she had a ring.

she was going to take you out to the orchard for a nice walk. then, she'd take you to the top of the hill, where she had set up a little picnic and where there was the best view of the sunset. then, she'd pull out the ring. in the meanwhile, she was stressing.

she was waiting for you in the kitchen, fidgeting with the ring in her right front pocket. she absentmindedly rubbed the gem on it with her thumb as she looked out of the window.

apple bloom was bouncing around, giddily running her mouth to her sister and brother.

"ooh, and you can have me, scootaloo, and sweetie belle as bridesmaids! or no, flower girls!! and rarity could design your suit and y/n's dress! oh, and a fall wedding would be great! or no wait, a spring wedding, with all the flowers and it won't be too hot!" she jumped to sit on the counter, swinging her legs excitedly. "wouldn't that be great, big mac?"

"yup," her brother said, not looking away from his newspaper.

she jumped off the counter, practically vibrating with excitement. "and you could get spike to be the ring bearer— oh, and you could have it on the farm an—"

"apple bloom!" apple jack laughed. her sister froze, standing like a deer in headlights. "calm down, missy. she ain't even here yet, and i dunno if she'll even say yes." she sighed, rubbing her thumb over the little metal ring.

"oh, don't worry, apple jack!" her little sister came up behind her and patted her shoulder. she looked down at her, her brow furrowed. "she'll definitely say yes!"

"and how would you know that?" she chuckled, taking her hands out of her pockets and crossing her arms.

"cause i asked," apple bloom said, closing her eyes and nodding confidently.

"you what?!" apple jack stared at her, eyes wide.

"oh relax, all i did was ask sweetie belle to ask rarity to bring up proposals at that sleepover she and y/n had a couple days ago."

aj raised an eyebrow, still confused. her sister groaned.

"rarity brought up proposals and weddings and what not at the sleepover, and y/n said she wouldn't say no to a proposal."

right as apple jack was going to answer, the front door was pushed open, letting a stream of buttery sunlight in. a surge of anxiety crashed into apple jack like a wave, her eyes widening.

"apple jack?" you called out.

she sighed and closed her eyes, shaking out her hands. "in here, sugar!" she strode forward to meet you, patting her pocket to make sure the ring hadn't moved.

the second you stepped into the kitchen, aj didn't even have the chance to greet you before apple bloom rushed towards you, throwing her arms around you. "hi y/n!!!" she exclaimed, grinning.

you laughed, hugging the younger girl back. "hey, apple bloom." when the youngest apple sibling finally released you, you looked up at aj, smiling.

she pulled you into a tight embrace, kissing the top of your head. "darlin'," she murmured. you stood on your toes, kissing her cheek.

"hi," you giggled. she smiled and took your hand.

"you ready? i wanted to go on a walk, it's real nice outside," she said. her free hand nervously tapped her thigh.

"mhm," you grinned. "come on." you started tugging her towards the door. she laughed, swiping up a wicker basket from the counter.

big mac glanced up at his sister. "g'luck," he said. apple jack rolled her eyes as she stepped out onto the porch.

as the two of you started walking to the orchard, apple bloom shouted, "if she asks any questions say yes!"

apple jack whipped her head around. "you shut your mouth, apple bloom," she yelled. you giggled and kept tugging her along. when you finally made it in the orchard and the house was far in the distance, you turned to your girlfriend.

"where are we going?" you asked. she squeezed your hand.

"follow me, sugar," she smiled. you happily walked beside her as she led you through the orchard, weaving through green trees filled with apples. a few moments later, she stopped, standing in front of you. she pulled her hat off and placed it on your head, tipping it forward so it covered your eyes.

you laughed, reaching up to fix it, but she bumped it back down. "no peekin', missy," she scolded. you could hear the smile in her voice.

"alright, alright," you said, putting your hands up in mock defeat. she grabbed one of your hands and led you forward, slowly.

"watch your step," she chimed, helping you step over a fallen log. you walked in silence for a few moments, letting her lead you through the apple trees.

after a while, she stopped, letting go of your hand to wipe hers on her jeans. "alright," she said. "take it off."

you quickly lifted the hat up, gasping at the sight in front of you. a beautiful picnic was laid out before you, right at the top of one of the hills overlooking the entire farm. the sun was just starting to set, casting a buttery golden light across everything. applejack was standing with her arms folded over her chest, trying to gauge your reaction.

you were speechless for a few seconds, taking everything in.

"do you, uh, like it?" your girlfriend asked, nervous.

"apple jack..." you looked around in wonder. "i love it! it's beautiful, oh my god," you gushed, wrapping your arms around her.

she laughed, lifting you up a bit. "i'm glad you like it," she chuckled, setting you down. "now, let's eat. pinkie made some cupcakes she wanted us to try."

the two of you watched the sun set from your spot on the hill, enjoying the food and each other's company. right before the sun dipped below the horizon, apple jack cleared her throat.

"so, uh," she began. she took a deep breath. "sugar, these last few years with you have been the best of my life. you are the sweetest, most gorgeous, kindest girl i've had the opportunity to know. if i died tonight, i'd die happy knowin' i was able to spend part of my life with you. but... i wanna spend more time with you. i want to wake up with you by my side every mornin' and go to bed with you every night. i want to be able to sit on the porch with you when we're old and tell our grandkids that i loved you my whole life." she shifted so that she was on one knee. she pulled out a ring. you gasped.

"i guess what im trying to say is, uh.. will you make me the happiest woman on earth.. and marry me?"

it took you a few seconds to process the words, but once you did, you leaped forward, engulfing her in a hug. "yes! i will, oh my god, i will!" you cried, nodding.

she laughed, wrapping her arms around you. after a few moments, she pulled back, gently taking your hand. she slipped the ring onto your finger, the gem sparkling in the fading sunlight. "i love you, sugarcube," she murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

from afar, a voice called out, "i told you she'd say yes!!"

#liz’s writing ♡#mlp applejack #apple jack #applejack x reader #applejack #mlp x reader #mlp eg #mlp eg x reader #equestria girls #equestria girls x reader #my little pony x reader

152 notes · View notes

atzfilm · 1 year ago

Text

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [3] (M)

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

— pairing: ot8 x reader, mxm (this chapter); yunho x reader; 10.9k

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind. also note: these chapters are very much introductory of each character & their roles, so smut is further down the line ♡.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping, emotional turmoil, injuries, descriptions of gore, needles

Chapter 3:

The days seem to drag on. Rarely do you run into anyone else in the home. Awake at early hours of the morning, grab something from the kitchen, stay in your designated room throughout the day. It's a routine you've made for yourself; none of the Unseelie bother you. They leave you alone to your thoughts, even Wooyoung, surprisingly. So here you are, peeling off the skin of an orange as you sit on the balcony. Tossing it to the ground below, taking slow bites. Do the townspeople worry? Now that you're gone, do they wonder what happened? Has anyone seen the aftermath of your shop – back door ripped from its hinges, bookshelves broken, piled on top of one another? Do they care?

Has Soobin come back yet?

Your eyes move to the loud steps on the porch to the left of you. Yunho stands there with someone. You're not too sure, you've never seen this faerie before. Height matches Yunho's, arms crossed as he speaks. You can't hear what they're arguing about, their eyes flicking up to you. You pause in your eating. Yunho nods, a small smile on his lips. The other doesn't say anything, giving you his back. He leaves the house behind, ignoring the yells of Yunho. Your teeth almost puncture your bottom lip at the sight. You expected him to walk through the barrier they've created, but his clothing shreds in an instant, body disappearing from view. The pieces slowly float to the dirt.

There's no reason for you to be shocked at all since they are Unseelies, but seeing someone dissipate, just like that?

What have you gotten yourself into?

"He's having a moment, no need to be alarmed," Wooyoung says. You jump at the sound of his voice, looking to the side of you. He sits on the railing, leg swinging. "Mingi doesn't like to be put in a situation he can't take control of. Yunho just told him about you staying. He isn't exactly happy about it."

"I didn't choose this," you murmur.

Wooyoung shrugs, "And that's what makes him more angry. You didn't choose to stay so he can't be angry with you. He trusts us, our opinions. So when his own thoughts conflict with ours, it's a lot for him. He then turns into that raven and leaves for a while."

"Hm."

Wooyoung turns to you. His clothing is loose, a brown, sheer robe draping over his lean frame. The shoes are long gone, tan skin shown. You can see the outline of his chest, the transparent material not leaving much to the imagination. If you squint, you're sure there's tattoos decorating his skin. But you look away after the brief silence, not wanting to let your eyes linger on him longer than they have to.

"We're having a harvest celebration soon," he begins. "Other faeries and Unseelies will be joining."

A party at a time like this? And while you're out and about in the hallways? Unseelie aren't tolerant of humans from what you can see. This occasion will only lead to terrible things.

"When?"

"Tonight," he smiles. "Right in our dining hall and parlor. It'll be fun. Happens once a year. You should join, pretty."

"A human celebrating with faeries? Sounds like a recipe for a disaster."

His grin widens, "Even better, no? Everyone in our spark will be there. You'll get to see all of us at once. Instead of avoiding us at every chance you get like you've been doing for the past couple of days. We've all noticed by the way."

"I'm here for Seonghwa’s tests and nothing more. I don't have a reason to go to that party."

"But you do, solaris." The nickname slips off his tongue with ease, as if you didn't yell at him days prior for it. Again, another silly mistake on your part to think he'd ever stop. "Trust me when I say it'll be advantageous to not try to avoid this one. Luck won't be on your side." He waves, sliding off the banister. You look down to see if he landed but he vanished from sight completely. Another thing you haven't exactly gotten used to. Knowing they're Unseelies is one thing, but seeing the magic first hand is another. You stand up from your spot, stomach growling.

This time of day is what you dislike the most – the Unseelie are roaming, doors opening and closing, laughter echoing through the hallways. Instead of it being comforting it only causes you anxiety. Their promises of not hurting you fall on deaf ears. You don’t doubt that whenever they are finished with their experimentation, they will end your life. It is mindless for you to even stick around here.

“Not like I have much of a choice,” you murmur, glancing at your bedroom door. A soft knock startles you, but you walk to it anyway, swinging it open. Seonghwa stands there, eyes flicking over your attire before meeting your eyes. The Unseelie provided you with sleepwear – which you vehemently refused. So you soaked your own clothing in soapy water last night and let it hang dry until early dawn. It’s more than wrinkled, still a little damp from the lack of sunlight in the forest.

“You didn’t take the clothing.” he states. It’s not a question, so you don’t bother answering. His eyes narrow. “You look unkempt.”

“You would say that even if I wore what you gave me.”

“Being stubborn will only get you so far, human. Here,” he holds out a small container, filled with breakfast food. Why it bothers you that he did not deny your words is beyond your own comprehension. “I need you to eat before I pull more samples. Having you faint is not ideal.”

You hesitate. The rules you’ve written down play over and over in your head. The first one on the list that you have no choice but to break. Do not eat what they offer. You take it from him, thanking him quickly. He merely shrugs, turning on his heel.

“Follow me. Close, please. The others are around all late morning into the afternoon and I’d rather not have any distractions pulling you away.”

You take his word for it, sliding an apple slice between your lips as you follow. A loud crash echoes around the hallway and Seonghwa glances to the side for a moment. His brow quirks in irritation, looking back at you. “Ignore him, he’s starting trouble again.”

“I’m not,” Wooyoung’s loud tone echoes through the hallways and you definitely take the advice of Seonghwa, stepping a bit closer to him. Seonghwa enters his lab, holding the door open for you. You step inside and he takes the key from the lock immediately, slipping it into his pocket as he closes the door. He sees the questions in your eyes, and nods.

“If I didn’t we’d have another surprise guest. Yunho will be back soon, so while we wait we should continue with testing. Please take a seat across from that table,” he points further into the room. Just like his library, the lab is neatly organized, books of equal height shelved next to each other, binders of what you can assume is research, labeled and placed in height order. Vials line the wall as you sit, Seonghwa’s steps silent as he sinks in the seat across from you. Between the door and you sitting he somehow changed his clothing, a lab coat covering his attire, sleeves lifted and gloves stretched over his fingers. He holds out his hand, palm up. You place your hand in his, and he thanks you, reaching for the syringe.

“I didn’t think I’d need more blood from you,” he starts, pulling off a tab. He curses to himself, placing it on the table and reaching for a small alcohol pad, wiping off your skin. “But one of my spark took some blood off my shelf, mistakenly with your sample as well.”

You’re not too sure how to feel about your blood being stolen.

He senses your perturbation as well, continuing. “We prefer not to conjure blood curses unless absolutely necessary. Despite us being Unseelie, the process to perform creates a heavy burden on our bodies. As to your blood and well, human blood overall, we use it to aid in potions and other things. Nothing with much substance. San used it to assist with something he was practicing with Yeosang.”

“Your explanation only makes me worry more.” And you haven't the slightest idea on who these people are that he's mentioning.

“No need to, we can’t truly bind you to anything if your mind and soul are not willing,” he lifts a tub, inserting another into the holder. His hand holds your arm, eyes glancing at your upper arm. You cannot see it, but something wraps tightly around it, lifting your skin. He presses his finger against your vein again, before slowly sliding the needle beneath the surface. The pressure is gone as you watch him fill the vials.

“Wooyoung told me you were displeased with the nickname he uses for you,” he glances at you, placing another tube in the holder. “You should be thankful. It’s rare that he cares for something enough to create one.”

“Is it necessary? My name is y/n, nothing more,” you say. “My partner didn’t even call me anything other than my name.”

"He never used nicknames with you." He states matter-of-factly.

"He always thought they were a bit silly," you murmur. You notice Seonghwa gaze lingering on you in the silence. "What? Is that so strange?"

Seonghwa furrows his brows. "Not quite. But I've seen how humans interact. How they create nicknames for ones they are fond of. It seems strange that your partner of several years wouldn't make up something endearing."

His observation makes your thoughts muddle. Soobin cared for you in ways you can’t quite describe. Did it ever bother you that he only called you by your name? Not at all. But the more you dwell on it, the more your stomach turns. You decide to change the conversation. "Are you saying you are fond of me, Seonghwa?"

“I’ve never used a nickname for you.”

You widen your eyes, “Did an Unseelie just lie?”

He scowls. "I’m not lying. Why would I call you anything else?"

“You call me human almost every time you see me. Is that not a nickname?”

Deadpanned, he continues, “Calling you what you are isn’t exactly what I’d consider a nickname, y/n. As I have said before, you are just an experiment.”

"And if I weren't?" you tease, leaning forward. "What's the first thing you think of when you see me? An annoyance? Irritating?" It's only a way to poke his buttons, but he just stares at you, thinking. Quite hard. The silence is long enough that you lean back, clearing your throat. "I was kidding."

"I wouldn't be able to call you anything other than beautiful, y/n, if I were so fond of you. You are kind and merciful, proud and resilient. Human words cannot describe it. I can see why your former partner adored you; it's hard not to."

You're not sure what else to say, his words more than shocking. He cannot lie. He believes everything he just said. And that scares you.

"You're afraid," He says simply.

"Yes."

"Of?"

What a hard question. "This. What you just said."

"I can't see why. Beauty comes in many forms," he explains, sliding out the needle. He grabs a small square of gauze, pressing it lightly into your arm. "It would be foolish of me not to see it in you. Have you forgotten that before all of this that us two were friends? Even if it was manufactured by me at the time, it shouldn't be surprising that I feel this way. I've seen how you've interacted with other humans. You are kind, patient, soft spoken. You fear what you cannot predict, but you don't let it stop you from continuing. Even now, you are worried about a bookstore that is not even yours. I am not lying when I say that I find your existence beautiful in itself. Humans are often selfish. But you, you seem the opposite."

He places a bandaid over the hole, "Done for now."

You nod slowly, holding your arm close. Seonghwa pushes the food closer to you, standing up and taking the vials. Not often are you left speechless. From what you know, what you've read, Unseelie do not love the same way as humans. He probably doesn't understand how words like that could affect you. Yes, that's right. It's an objective look, an affirming statement. Nothing more than observations.

Seonghwa moves to the door, opening it. Yunho enters, resting his jacket on the coat rack. His eyes relax when they meet yours, waving. "There you are, pretty girl. Sorry for my late arrival. Our meeting lasted longer than deemed necessary. Quite annoying," he glances at Seonghwa. "The tests are what we talked about, correct?"

Oh.

The two of them talk to each other, but your mind is stuck. Glued even. How could he let those two words just slide from his lips? Pretty. Girl. No. Your mind is playing tricks on you, you decide. Yunho is kind, sweet even. But that? That.

You can't even begin to fathom the reason.

"y/n?"

You're pulled out of the depth that is your thoughts, Seonghwa waiting. "Do you feel faint? Should we wait until you've eaten more? You look as if you've seen a specter."

You shake your head. "No. I'm good. Perfect even." The grin you plaster on your cheeks must be horrendous, Seonghwa’s lips forming a scowl.

"We'll continue, then. You would think that a human being able to lie meant that they could perform it with ease. That doesn't seem to be your case, though."

This time you frown. "Thanks for that, Seonghwa."

He shrugs. "Truth hurts. Yunho will perform his tests now with you. I'm not needed for this, so I'll be in my library. Hesitate to bother me, please." He exits, tossing the key to Yunho. Said man locks the door, turning to you.

"Is he always this grumpy?" You ask.

"Unfortunately yes. Shall we begin?"

The test is simple.

Yunho holds out his hand, you take his. His eyes rest on yours as he tries to listen to your thoughts. It's easy enough, not much that you need to do. The others have said it failed previously, so it's very likely that it may fail again this time around. The likelihood of it does not settle your heart though. It still thumps against your chest as it always does when any of them are around. A defense mechanism, sure. No way for you to control it. Your palms aren't free from the nerves either, clammy. You wipe them on your pants for the nth time.

"If I can listen it'll prove enough. My perception abilities only go so far. I'm not as majikly inclined compared to San or Mingi. Rarely do I ever use it, I won't linger longer than I need to."

"Do you promise?" It may be an empty one, but you must be sure. It'll help your heart stop hammering against your chest.

"Of course. A test now and nothing more," he assures you, palm resting on the table, waiting for your hand. The moment is slow, your palm dropping onto his. He lets his long fingers curl into yours. "Look at me, pretty girl."

"...Can I talk?" You ask, and he nods.

You meet his gaze. The brown of his eyes and hair begin to slowly change. Brown darkening into a deep burgundy, lighting up the more you look at him. The situation is strange in itself, but his eyes are still kind.

"Why do you call me that?" You ask.

His lips quirk, "Pretty girl?"

Your fingers tighten slightly in his hold, before nodding. "Yes. That."

"I overheard the conversation between you and Seonghwa. How your former partner never called you anything special. I thought it was… weird, I suppose. Since I first saw you, I thought you were pretty. And," he glances away from you for a moment. Your mind must be playing games – pink begins to dust his cheek. No way. He wouldn't be blushing, would he? No. Just a trick of the eye. Probably because of his red hair. "It's the first thing that came to mind when I saw you sitting here waiting for me. I couldn't help it. I do find you pretty, y/n. It shouldn't be that strange to you."

You use your free hand to rub the frown lines on your face. "Ah. No. I'm just surprised, that's all."

"Why?"

"I mean, Yunho…" It's hard to explain when he's looking at you like that.

Guilt begins to rise. You shouldn't be this way. But the more you listen to him, the more wrong you feel. It's only been a few months without Soobin. Entertaining someone, especially a faerie, an Unseelie… you can't. Not when you really haven't moved past your ex-boyfriend. You still think of him daily. No matter how warm someone else looks at you, you just can't. Not now.

"I hope you keep that nickname to yourself," you say. "I don't think I want to hear it from you."

"Oh," you don't notice the change in his expression. It's subtle. Brows slightly arching, an irritated twitch of his lips. It disappears when you look at him. "I never wish to make you uncomfortable."

"You don't make me uncomfortable," you state this plainly, sure to keep your tone neutral. "But I'm just not used to things like that. I hope you understand."

"I do," he nods. "But if there comes a time when you're not so hesitant, please tell me. I wouldn't mind calling you that instead of your name, y/n."

It's no surprise his simple words make your heart skip a beat.

"Okay. Thank you for listening to me," you say. His head tilts, eyes still on yours.

"No need. Still can't read those thoughts of yours," Finally looking away, he sighs. His fingers slip from yours, the warmth gone. "I guess we'll have to try something else. Or just wait and see what Seonghwa has found."

Just like that. You pull your hand back into your lap and enclasp your fingers. Hoping that same warm feeling will come back somehow.

Silly.

"What will you do when you find out?" You ask.

He thinks. "Figure out a way to stop humans from having your trait, ability, whatever it may be. Your existence is one thing. If you're one in a billion, a slip in the evolution process, then that's fine to us. We just can't have it happen over and over again, you see. But I'm sure you know the reason why. You're not a selfish one."

He stands, adjusting his shirt. "You didn't eat much. May I…?"

You look at the assortment of fruit Seonghwa gave you, most just picked at. You nod, expecting him to grab the ones you haven't really touched. Instead, he takes one of the apple slices you've bitten already, sliding it between his lips.

"Tasty," he grins. "You taste good."

You can't control your blinks, confusion etched into your features. No, you couldn't have heard that right. No. So many thoughts cross your mind, many not too appropriate for the situation you're in at this very moment. Yunho grabs another fruit you bit into, humming. "Sweet."

Your eyes widen.

"Something wrong?" He asks, darkened eyes staring unrelentingly. The air in the room feels denser, thickened with his mere look. You can't look away even if you want to, fingers digging into your pants.

"I put the samples away," Seonghwa enters the room. Yunho breaks eye contact with you and you let out a long breath, chest throbbing from how hard your heart was racing. Yunho's expression is back to how it usually is, soft eyes following Seonghwa’s walk. As if he did not just freeze you into this very spot. If Seonghwa notices anything he doesn't say a word, grabbing his fleece off a chair and sliding his arms inside.

"Hongjoong wants to see you." He looks to you, gaze roaming over your clothing. "I would prefer if you wore something more appropriate when meeting him. Dressing as you are now is a bad look."

"He wouldn't care if she wore nothing, Seonghwa," Yunho shrugs. "You know that. And there's nothing wrong with her attire now. You cannot expect her to scroll around with those horrid faerie clothing you've given her. None of it fits properly."

"I said that I would prefer it. Hongjoong is a different character," Seonghwa rolls his eyes. "But it doesn't matter. He wants to see you now, so there's no use in trying to change. Come, human. Yunho, San needs you to help with the decor. Jongho is having another fit."

Yunho's jolly expression breaks for a second, an irritated twitch in his brow. "Has he broken the lighting again?" He nods, a groan escaping him. "Perfect." He bows his head at you before leaving.

"Come," Seonghwa turns to you. "Or would you rather help with the mess?"

"I'd rather not be here at all."

Seonghwa cracks a smile, "Don't we all?"

You stand from your spot. Just as you're about to leave, Seonghwa hesitates. You cannot utter a word because he starts first.

"Take his words with caution. Hongjoong is a character to say the least. Though most of us are straightforward with our words, Hongjoong likes to play a lot with it. You cannot be sure of what's next to come out."

"What are you telling me this for? To run?"

He turns around. The solemn expression makes your own mask slip. "If needed, yes. I will not be far unless someone pulls me away. But on the off chance that I'm not around, don't waste time to leave. The barrier is gone right now. You'd have a better time escaping the woods than staying with him."

"He's your leader, no?"

Seonghwa nods, "And this is why I'm telling you what I am. Be careful, y/n. You are a mere rabbit in his eyes. Nothing more than that."

—

Seonghwa’s words repeat over and over in your head. A mere rabbit. Prey. You're not foolish to know that your stay here is temporary. Hiding your anxiety at the situation is what you've done, what you've been doing. But having to pretend in front of the leader, holding back your fear? You don't even know what he looks like.

Why did Soobin make you go to that stupid festival?

He is just on the other side of that door. All you have to do is knock. That's all. Your hand hovers over the wood.

The door swings open. You expect to see someone standing there but instead, there's no one. You slowly enter, glancing back. Seonghwa left you alone to deal, unfortunately. Just as you move out of the door's proximity, it closes itself, locking. You can help but let out a low laugh. Mythical creatures being real is something you'd never wrap your head around. The hallway is dark, luminescence peeking from underneath a door further away. You take another long breath, before opening it yourself. Immediately, your eyes move to him.

He is Unlike the others, that you can see. When you first learned of him, you thought he would be stern, rigid. Instead, you stand at the doorway to his spell room – a clap echoing as he stares at the table filled with vast ingredients.

"Finally," he breathes. "Took three hellish hours. Ah," He pauses.

He turns to you, wholly black gaze blinking away into a softer brown. The sight isn't terrifying in itself – it just scares you that you cannot distinguish him from another human, aside from his quiet beauty. He hides his potions away, leaning against the tabletop. You do not say a word in fear of upsetting him. He seems to notice this, head tilting as he stares at you.

"Oh, so you are the dear, pitiful human that has gotten my spark all ruffled up? What to do with you?" He smiles.

It is all but friendly.

His stature is on the shorter side compared to the rest of the Unseelie you've met thus far, about Wooyoung's height. His black hair is wild, strands scattered about, some tucked behind his ears. A seemingly permanent sly smile coating his lips. You can see why he's their leader. Charisma oozes from him despite having said no more than two sentences. Two sentences that have left you utterly speechless. Choosing your words carefully, you finally speak.

"I've heard some things about you," you say. A sleek brow of his lifts at your words, daring you to continue. You take the challenge. "Hongjoong, leader of your spark."

His grin is slow, eyes flicking between yours as it widens. His tongue drags across his lips, playing with the piercing hooked into the bottom one. A quick glance and you see several – studs lining his ears, fingers covered with golden jewels. A small amulet resting on where his pulse beats on. "In the flesh. Humans haven't seen me in centuries. You should be proud to even grace my presence, my pretty star." He glances behind you. "Everyone else seems interested in you as well. It took many of months to finally see you for myself. I have to admit, I do see the unwavering appeal. Ordinary looking, but there's something," his eyes roam over your outfit. "Your aura, maybe. What do you think, Mingi?"

"I think we should get ready, Hongjoong."

You tense up at the deep voice, looking back. Well, looking up. Mingi stands not a breath away from you, barely giving you a glance as you stare up at him. His golden clothing is as wispy as Wooyoung's, sheer against his chest and darkening as it flows down. You take a step to the side to bring some distance between the two of you, heart racing. You're only startled every time one of them pops up. And from the disappearance act you witnessed earlier, Mingi can make himself do it with ease. You would expect someone of his size to at least make a bit of noise when he enters a room. His blonde hair is neatly slicked down, mossy green markings starting at the curve of his jaw, covering the rest of his body. Mingi clears his throat and you look away from him.

The tales didn't mention that Unseelie were all unnaturally beautiful. Though it does make sense. You can't see how humans will follow them to their deaths otherwise. Even you, knowing what you do, are already falling without trying.

Falling for their traps, you correct yourself. Nothing more than that.

"Ah, and I assume that she will be joining us?" Hongjoong glances at you. "It'll be a very interesting gathering."

"Chaotic to say the least," Mingi sighs softly. "We should just lock her in her room until sunrise. The others will smell her, but there will be spells and other spoils to deter them. I'd hate to have to care for the human all night."

"I'm not a child," you frown.

Mingi does not bother looking in your direction nor acknowledge your response, "Wooyoung should watch her, not I."

"Neither of you are watching her. Yunho will be by her side most of the night."

Mingi's eyes widen briefly, "Hongjoong, is that the best choice at this time–"

"Take her back to her room to get ready," Hongjoong turns to you. "We've prepared a few outfits for you to try. It'll help you blend in more with the rest of us. If any are unsatisfactory, I'll have Yeosang conjure up another. Until you are satisfied with your choice."

You shake your head, "Not needed–"

"I want my star to shine bright tonight, y/n. You will not be dull when everyone else is watching. I bid you adieu–" He giggles. "I've always wanted to say that." He looks back at Mingi. “We’ll talk after you drop her off and get ready yourself, there’s much to do to prepare."

"Hongjoong…" He sighs. The leader does not bother saying anything else, turning back to his assortment of potions. Mingi finally looks at you. "Please follow me."

"I know where my room is," Your words are neither heard nor acknowledged, Mingi disappearing back into the dim hallway. You follow after swiftly, his pace much faster than yours.

You stumble after him through the hallways, passing by your designated room. "Hey, Min…"

He stops. His steps are quick, barely a breath away from you. You step back as he steps forward, your back hitting the wall. Anger resides in his eyes as he stares down at you. "You do not utter my name. You do not acknowledge me outside of forced interactions by one of the others. We do not speak to each other unless absolutely necessary. Do you understand?"

Your fear is a good enough answer for him. He moves back, gesturing to the door behind you. "Yeosang prepared your outfit in a different room since the others are lurking around yours right now. Get dressed, Yunho will be here promptly to explain how to act properly in front of the other faeries." He leaves you, dissipating right in front of your eyes. You can feel how your heart beats against your chest. You blink, hand reaching for the knob and turning it open. You close it behind you, back against the wood.

It's too much. All of this is just. too. much.

—

"What is your goal?"

"I am just trying to have a successful gathering. Is that too much to ask for, Mingi?" Hongjoong stares at the potions on the table, deep in thought. "She will be here for quite a while anyway. It's better to show them that we have everything in order rather than attempting to hide her."

"You told Seonghwa you did not care for her and wanted her gone. And now you're compromising Yunho's sanity because you want to get back at us, is that it?"

Hongjoong’s brow twitches at Mingi's words. "You know I would never put you in danger. Any of you."

"Then why are you now?"

Hongjoong finally looks away from his table, eyes flicking up to Mingi's. "You question me?"

He sighs, rubbing his face, "I just want to know your reasoning. You know well what he means to me."

"I am beginning to wonder," Hongjoong steps closer to Mingi. He lets his hand rest on his cheek, thumb rubbing the skin slowly. Mingi's eyelids flutter at his touch, leaning into it. "If any of you truly trust me. Yunho has been so misguided, removed from modern society. We all know how he tore that Seelie apart. It wouldn't have happened if he had the chance to leave, to experience things like us. We isolated him to the point of inner destruction. Him keeping by the human’s side is a test, yes. One of self control. I need to see how he will fair when he is beside someone he desires and yet cannot have. I have to test his temperament before I decide what to do next, Mingi. This is for him."

Mingi covers Hongjoong’s hand with his, "I trust you. I just have one more question."

"Speak it."

"What is your plan? With the human?"

Hongjoong bares a sliver of his teeth, black irises only deepening. "Everyone is enthralled with her. It's my chance to have my own fun."

—

You stare in the mirror at yourself.

Right as you pulled the slacks over your finger, it adjusted itself to your body. The Unseelie you've met have only worn sheer clothing around you and this is no different. It would make you uncomfortable if you didn't see how it clearly hides sensitive parts of your body, leaving it to the imagination. Still, it is unlike you. You're used to something different. Your pile of clothes next to the bathroom door is all the more alluring as you gaze at yourself. Heavy bags beneath your eyes from lack of sleep, hands that are endlessly shaky. You look tired.

Exhausted.

A light knock on your door pulls you away from those pesky thoughts that were soon to move to your Soobin. You clear your throat, giving yourself a look once more before rushing to the door after a second knock.

You open it to Yunho. He looks cleaned up, hair neatly tossed, a small curl resting on his forehead. He wears an outfit very similar to yours but much more sheer and revealing, your face glued on his. His flicks over yours briefly. You think you see a light blush coating his cheeks.

"Faerie clothing suits you," he says softly. "I will respect your wishes and not say anything more."

You let out a breath, "You think? I feel like it looks silly."

True shock coats his face, "No. You look fine. You," He struggles with his wording and you can only smile at him. He sighs, rubbing his cheeks. "You are … breathtaking."

“You’re flattering me,” you look away from him, quickly coming up with something else to pull him away from those thoughts. “When is the party?”

“It started an hour or so ago,” Yunho says simply, taking in your shocked expression. “They are all awaiting your arrival, y/n. It should be quite fun.”

If your heart could sink any further, it would. “Waiting? I’m not a special guest, I just found out about this tonight. I –” You barely ate breakfast, but it feels as if your insides are about to come out. It only makes sense that Hongjoong would catch you off guard like this. It makes complete sense, but why would he? Does he expect you to fail this test, or whatever it is?

“You’re letting your thoughts run from you,” Yunho says. “Don’t leave yourself behind.”

“I don’t want to do this,” you admit. “At all.”

“Neither do I,” he sighs simply, glancing behind him. “But it’s out of my control. This Gathering of ours has been planned for months on end. Hongjoong loves masquerade balls to discuss important matters with other Unseelie and Faeries. In fact, pardon me – ” Yunho steps inside the room, closing the door behind him. “Wouldn’t want unsavory ears to listen to my words.”

You notice the masks in his hands now, “Masquerade?”

“Yes, a lot of faeries are shy without it, believe it or not,” he glances between your eyes. “Do you mind if I place yours?”

You shake your head, and he smiles. He takes his time, making sure it fits comfortably over your eyes before tying it in the back. “Too tight?” he asks softly. His lips barely hover over your ears as he asks. With a quick swallow, you shake your head. “Perfect.” He ties it with ease, moving back. Somehow between that time he’s put his over his eyes, looking over you once.

“Unrecognizable?” You tease.

“I’d recognize you in any room. As Mingi told you, I'll explain briefly what will happen. Since you are the only human that will be there, eyes will follow you. I won't be leaving your side all night in the event one of them tries something unsavory. And though I will be watching, please don't hesitate to tell me if you feel that something is wrong."

"Is this dangerous, me being around them?"

"Our spark isn't dangerous, but many others are. We all use humans in many ways, y/n. We as a species aren't the kindest to yours."

You're glad he's explaining it all to you. But it doesn't lessen your fear at all. "You won't leave me alone?"

"I won't. Be yourself, y/n. It'll go well. Shall we go?” he holds out his arm. You slip yours beneath his with ease, fingers lightly touching his sleeve. His outfit isn’t transparent like the rest you’ve seen, a solid satin blue. Still it leaves nothing to the imagination, securely fit to his body. Your nerves catch up to you as you walk through the hallways to the opposite side of the house you haven’t been to yet. All doors are ajar, many attendees you have yet to set your eyes on. Most shift their gaze to watch Yunho escort you to the main hall. All of this is too much too soon, your nails sinking into his arm without you noticing. Running is not an option. No matter how much you want it to be.

No matter how close he stands to you, how much they speak to you, you are alone.

“Hey,” Yunho stops walking. You look up at him. “You’re holding on a bit tight there, y/n.”

You look at your grip, noticing that it’s tight enough to break skin. Just as you begin to pull back he covers your hand with his free one, shaking his head. “Hold on to me if you need to. It doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m sorry–”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all. Hold on to me, y/n. I’m here.” You feel the stares, feel them glued to your back as you look up at him. “Hear me?”

“…Yes,” you whisper. You close your eyes for a moment. “Okay. We can go.”

He squeezes your hand before letting go, moving forward. The gazes are still burning into him and yourself, but you pretend not to notice. Ignore how much it bothers you. How silly it is – trusting an Unseelie, a man you barely know. How much you’re relying on his arm to steady yourself, his words to keep you calm. How with just a few months, you’ve let someone else other than Soobin help you.

You enter the grandeur hall.

It’s massive; chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, jewels and cold everywhere you look. Tables filled with faeries speaking amongst one another, laughter throughout the area. Yunho pulls you forward through the crowds. He seems to command a presence here – faeries without prompt giving him a pathway. They continue to talk but you hear whispers in languages you cannot understand. The word human sticks out. Still he pulls you along to the front of the room. There a banquet table sits, nine seats lined side by side. Hongjoong sits in the middle of the table, literally. He rests himself on top of the table, legs cross as he speaks to an unfamiliar faerie in front of him. You barely get a chance to look at the rest sitting there, one at the far end startling you. He stares at you with such disgust, a scowl seemingly permanently carved into his face.

“You’ve made it,” Hongjoong says, tilting his head around the faerie to look at you. “And how lovely you are.”

“I would say the same, but it will only boost your ego.”

The faerie in front of him widens their eyes. Hongjoong smile slips, waving them away. They leave without a second thought. He stands, brown eyes dissipating within an instant. The black stares at you as he moves closer. You shift your body towards Yunho, his head slightly shifting to the movement.

“You will hold your tongue in front of me,” Hongjoong says. “Do you understand me, human?”

“Yes.” You say, looking away. Not missing a beat, his smile slides back.

“Perfect, I hope you enjoy the rest of the party. It will be more than entertaining. I must leave now to tend to the other guests. Please let the others introduce themselves to you – we all will be seeing a lot of you for quite a while.” He bows to Yunho. Yunho bows, stepping to the side to let Hongjoong mingle.

“You could draw blood from that fearsome gaze of yours,” Yunho whispers, nudging your shoulder. “Even I am petrified.”

“I, sorry,” you say again, sucking in a breath. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for your expressions y/n. Hongjoong was just…” he thinks for a moment. “You know of his status, no?”

“He is the leader of your spark.”

“Yes, but he is not only the leader of the eight of us. He is the head of Unseelie, y/n. There is not one faerie within this room who would defy him. So those words in front of another faerie, challenging his status at an event,” he quirks his brow.

Oh how you wish you could crawl out of your skin. You turn back, watching as all the masked party guests bow as he passes, his laughter echoing around the room. Charisma oozes from him, yes, but so does pure unrivaled power. A passerby gives him a glass and he takes it within a breath. You look at Yunho.

“He’s going to kill me.”

Yunho snickers, shaking his head, “He will entertain himself with the others. Worry not.”

“Solaris!” An irritating familiar voice echoes through the hall. Without a second to beat he throws his body into yours, wrapping his arms around you. His giggles echo around you, squeezing quite tight before letting go. He pulls back, the same grin still on his face. Wooyoung steps back for a moment, eyes flicking over your attire. “As always you are a beautiful sunset.”

“You cannot calm yourself even at a party?” Yunho frowns. He feels the emptiness of your arm since you’ve let go to steady yourself from Wooyoung’s attack. The absence of your warmth is not comforting. Only annoying him further. You seem not to notice at all though. Between your exasperation at him slamming himself into you, Yunho can see the tension in your shoulders ease. He just wishes that he were the one to do it, not him.

“My pretty solaris is shining, Yunho,” Wooyoung sticks his tongue out at him. “I cannot believe that Hongjoong made him your bodyguard when I am here!” He sighs, sitting in the spot Hongjoong once was. His mask rests on the top of his head. He holds out a drink for you and you take it, eyeing it.

“Is it alcohol?”

“Faeries do not really enjoy it since we don’t get intoxicated like humans. And it tastes disgusting,” Wooyoung murmurs. “This is a tonic of concentrated fruits. Sweet, but does nothing to humans.” He encourages you.

You trust his words only because you know he cannot lie, taking a sip. It’s sweet, but not off-putting. “Tasty,” you point out. Yunho takes the other resting on the table, sitting next to Wooyoung. He widens his eyes, digging in his pocket.

Yunho smiles at you, “I almost forgot. Hand.”

"Hand?" You shoot him a quizzical look. He holds out his to you, waiting. You're sure he'd wait forever until you place yours upon his so you do so, his large hand covers yours entirely. At first, you feel a soothing feeling across your skin. The warmth rises in temperature, just enough to the point where it's bearable, but sweaty. He stares at your enclosed hands. With a small whistle, they begin to illuminate in the dark, swirling around your skin before disappearing into the air. His eyes flick to yours, a sunset staring back at you.

"Pretty, no?" He grins, squeezing your hand once. "It took me a bit since I'm not an expert at majik like the others. Yeosang helped me with the spell, and San helped me cast."

Their names mean close to nothing to you now. You're very sure they will in the future, though. Close future, from the gazes around you.

"What's it for?"

His grin widens, then. "To impress a pretty human. And it will help me keep an eye on you if you ever leave my sight tonight. I will take it away once this gathering ends."

You tuck it in your front pocket.

“You’ve made it,” Wooyoung says, looking behind you. You don’t exactly need to guess who it is, the quiet movement enough for you to pinpoint. His conversation, well, threat, from earlier is enough for you not to acknowledge him at all. Instead, you move a bit closer to Yunho’s side. “You said you hate parties.”

“I do,” his deep voice murmurs. You take a quick glance at Mingi. He avoids your gaze entirely, hands tucked in his pockets. “But Hongjoong insisted. No matter how much I tell him my presence here will only put the others on edge.”

You look behind him. Still the eyes are on yours, but you see others observing Mingi. Many look away quickly. How much fear does the Unseelie resonate?

“They would be on edge anyway since they are in our residence,” Yunho shrugs. “y/n’s presence along with ours brings more questions than answers. None are brave enough to speak about it though. Secures our status.”

You speak, “Even if they asked, I have nothing to say.”

Yunho smiles, “I can pick one thing you’d be able to shock them with.”

Ah, right. Resistant to faeries. Your eyes flick over to one Unseelie who sits at the table. He’s beautiful, to say the least. Black hair in wisps, resting at the bottom of his neck, silver jewelry wrapped around strands. A peak of what looks like a birthmark on the side of one of his eyes, stretching to his temple. His brown eyes are not looking at yours at all, focused on your lower face. As you stare, it looks like he’s watching your lips. You look away.

His head rests on his hands as he watches you speak to Wooyoung. Your words are quick, annoyance drawn on your face when he twists your words, often vulgar. He only laughs at the expression, continuing his rant. Yeosang himself and the others are used to his antics, his quick words and joking tone. He quite honestly thought you'd be deterred by it, but you match his wit in an instant, sometimes causing Wooyoung to falter, skip words. Yeosang can't help but grin, eyes steady on yours. You look to the side, meeting his interested gaze.

"Yeosang doesn't speak much," Wooyoung starts. "Especially when I'm talking."

"Maybe because you can never stop," Yunho hums from behind him.

"Nice to meet you, Yeosang," you hold out your hand. Yeosang's brows furrow at the gesture. Humans are often disgusted with faeries, especially one of the Unseelies. You extend out your hand with such ease, well, it makes him confused. The time must have passed long enough for it to be uncomfortable, your hand sliding back away.

He reaches out before you place it back on your side, his fingers gripping yours softly in a quick shake.

Your skin is quite soft, he thinks.

“You are not afraid of me,” he states, his hand dropping from yours. “Why?”

“Should I be?” you question. It lingers in the air, eyes briefly moving to Yunho’s for assistance. He merely shrugs, your gaze moving back to Yeosang’s. “I’m not immediately afraid of an Unseelie. Not anymore.”

“That’s delightful! It’s all me, by the way,” Wooyoung grins, interrupting. Mingi meets his eyes for a moment, gesturing to the side. He sighs, hopping off the table. “I would love to mingle more, but Hongjoong needs me. I’ll see you all soon enough. Yeosang, he needs you as well.”

“Just a moment,” Yeosang waves him off. He pats his pocket, putting out a small map. “Can you read this?” he holds it out to you. He seems insistent on it, gaze sharp. “Humans are able to, not Unseelies.”

“Oh…?” You take it from him. You can read it easily, some words more advanced than you’re used to, but it’s all legible.

“Now is not the time, Yeosang,” Mingi murmurs, rubbing his eyes beneath the mask. “Not at a party.”

“It is just for a moment. If she knows, then she’ll be able to assist me. So, human?” Yeosang asks, turning back to you. “Can you understand the writing?”

–

A threat.

That's his first thought as he stares at you across from the room. The reason why the others are on edge, wary. A human with a strange allure. He would have eradicated you immediately if it weren't for their affinity towards you. His frown only seems to deepen when he sees Yeosang's lip quirk at something you've said. His eyes widened at the look, silent shock. His friend isn't one to attempt to grow closer to anyone. In fact, he's even more surprised that Yeosang is here in the first place. The Unseelie hides in his room often, rarely interacting unless necessary. The smile on his lips confuses him.

His fingers dig into his forearms. Despite how exhausting it is to be around you, he can't help it. The looks you send the others, the shaking of your hands as you point to the map. The smile that is barely there.

Why is he aching to touch you?

“Sulking in the corner is not a good look,” Jongho appears next to him, arms crossed. “You know that she can see you. You’re not so far away to go unnoticed.”

“She’s infuriating,” San frowns, watching as Mingi pulls Yeosang away from the rest of them, into the direction of Hongjoong. “Why bring her around all of these faeries? Some are bound to realize that she is not like any other human. I don’t doubt that they might already know. What is the endgame, the solution? Why is he doing this?”

“Hongjoong has a strange way of thinking,” Jongho says, watching you with the others. “But he is wise above many. It took me a while to determine exactly why he would introduce a human to this world of ours. And I’ve finally figured it out.”

“Don’t keep it to yourself.”

“Not even a small guess?” Jongho frowns.

“Jongho…”

“Fine,” he sighs. “He wants to show them that our position will not be challenged nor should ever be. If we have a human captured that is not affected by any of us and still fears us, yet joins us on these events. They will see where we stand. They will start to question if we know of more, if she is a halfling. So many inquiries and yet all are too afraid to speak up. It will keep them subdued for now. Delay their anger for the incident from the other night. Distract them enough to keep it calm.”

"Is there any news on the Seelie?" San asks.

"Much. Yeosang and Wooyoung are on their way to take care of it. They will be gone for quite a bit until it's solved."

San watches Yeosang leave the room after Wooyoung. The Unseelie seems to sense his gaze, turning around to meet it. Neither of them say anything, but Jongho sees San's expression shift. Worry. Yeosang merely nods at the look, disappearing from view. It is what he has always done to calm him down. But San's worry just continues to pile on as it continuously has.

"We should have gone with them too," San murmurs, looking back at you. "A trio at least. If one of them were injured the other one wouldn't be able to leave."

"Hongjoong made the call. It will be fine."

"As fine as a human resistant to our charms waltzing around faeries that want to consume her, fine? Something will happen tonight."

Jongho grows serious at his words. "Have you seen it?"

"No. That's the issue Jongho. I can feel everyone else's in this room. But with her, there is nothing. Not even a hint. That only happens for me if the person is destined to die suddenly. If that doesn't worry you, I don't know what will. It makes me think of that movie, the one with the blood sucking faeries. How the main character couldn’t penetrate her mind because she had a shield."

Jongho deadpans, "You really need to stop consuming human media. It's making you lose your mind and credibility."

San sends him a toothy grin. "You're just upset you don't understand my references."

"Oh I do, a little too well unfortunately. There's only so much of it that you say that won't stick. I'm still upset you made me watch that movie. What was it, Dracula?"

San looks away, momentarily distracted. "Yes! We should watch it again."

"And this is why Hongjoong didn't tell you to go with them," he murmurs, easily maneuvering out of San’s shove. "In all seriousness, I am worried. You cannot witness the future because she is in it. I don't like the odds." Jongho looks to the side, eyes narrowing. "So much for the delay of anger, especially since some uninvited guests arrived."

—

"Stay close and don’t say a word," Yunho stands up from the table, shifting you behind him. Mingi turns around, relaxed expression tightening. You can’t quite see over their shoulders, most of the crowd hiding your view from what’s exactly going on. Mingi's hand slips to his side. You notice the handle of what you can only guess is a sword, his fingers wrapped around it as he stares forward. The crowd is hushed now, bated breaths. What exactly are they facing, and why is everyone on edge?

The familiar smooth voice of Hongjoong breaks the silence, “You show yourself here?”

“We were not invited, we presumed it was just a mistake.” The person responds slowly, deliberately. Yunho’s arm wraps around your shoulder, pressing you tightly to his side. “We heard that you have a human within this area.”

“Is that any of your business?” MIngi hisses. Your gaze shifts to the side, seeing the angry Unseelie that was standing in the corner appear next to Mingi. “You were not invited for a reason, Seelie.”

“Is that the way to speak to your brother?” The voice laughs. Hongjoong appears in front of you in a blink, standing next to Mingi. He does not acknowledge you behind him, but your eyes flick down. His hand waves slightly, as if gesturing for you to leave. Yunho stands still, a slight shake to his head. “You protect it from my sight?”

“Yeonjun, you know your kind is not allowed at these events, why appear? Everyone in this room is disgusted by you,” Hongjoong says simply, a small smile on his lips. “Uppity faeries who believe they are above us all. You stink up the place.”

The air feels tender, your heart beating quicker. No matter how much you try to control it it just hammers on and on. There is little doubt that the Seelie cannot hear you. The Unseelie around you seem to know it as well, all of their hands shifting to weapons that rest on their sides.

“Let me see the human.”

“No,” Hongjoong raises his brow. “You have no presence nor authority here.”

“Is it wise to hide it from me after you have butchered my people? Wooyoung was his name, yes? And Yunho is lucky that I am being so kind despite the massacre that he created.”

Yunho’s hand around you loosens slightly at his name being uttered.

“Seelie attacked the human unwarranted and without notifying us. They were in our territory. It was our right,” Mingi states simply. “He did what needed to be done.”

“Did he? We visited the location shortly after, Mingi. It was utterly drenched and soiled.”

“Enough,” Hongjoong holds up his hand, “What is it that you desire? To see the human? Is that all?”

“That is all,” the Seelie states.

“Fine. Mingi, move. Yunho, let her go.”

Questions rise in Yunho’s eyes. With great hesitance, he lets his hand drop from your arm. Hongjoong slides his hand into yours, stepping forward. Your momentary shock at him touching you all vanishes when you meet the eyes of the Seelie in front of you. You expected the grotesque figure like before, but he is anything but. Matching the height of Mingi, he stands. His hair neon green, slicked back. Small strands brush his cheek as he looks down at you, white eyes alarming. Despite that, he is beautiful. Ethereally so. He holds your gaze, a smirk forming.

“You are the human they have started a war for?”

“It has not come to that, Yeonjun,” Mingi starts, hushed immediately by Hongjoong.

“Oh but it has, Mingi. Unless you provide me with a small favor.”

“No,” Yunho says between his teeth, standing by your side. “I will not allow you to take her away.”

“Why? What is so special about the human? Why are you risking your people for its existence? Does it have something I cannot see with my eyes? Or does it have to deal with her being resistant to our charms?”

Hongjoong shrugs, “Whatever do you mean?”

Yeonjun’s smile drops. “I have coerced her to let go of your hand several times but she looks at me as if I’m a ghost.”

“How unfortunate that not every being will drop to their knees for you. You must truly be disappointed.”

Yeonjun merely rolls his eyes, hands tucked in his suit jacket pockets. He glazes over the crowd, stepping forward. The crowd backs up from his movement until they can no longer. He stands in front of a small child, bending down to stare at them. “I can read between the lines, Unseelie leader. I can see how you avoid my inquiries. So if you will not allow me to take the human, perhaps I will take one of these other things for my use.” Just as he is about to touch the child, you move forward slightly. Hongjoong’s grip on your hand tightens tenfold, a bruise imminent.

“Let the child go,” you say.

Yeonjun turns around, grin widening. “Oh, she speaks. It is all too bad, though, you did not speak up quickly enough.” He raises his hand. All of your gazes turn. An adult faerie rises in the air. Before any of the Unseelie next to you can move, Yeonjun snaps his fingers. You look away from the sight, a cry falling from your lips at the mere sound. Flesh splatters across the walls and guests, their cries much louder than yours.

“Yunho, go!” Hongjoong says above the shouts of the crowd. “Take her out of here,” he lets go of your hand, throwing your body into the trembling Yunho’s. You look at him, eyes glossed over. His eyes flick up to yours, shaking his head.

“I can’t.”

You barely get the chance to convince him to go, Yunho grabbed by a Seelie in the crowd. This one as horrid as the others you’ve witnessed. You look around for an escape, the ajar door too far away for you to go. So instead, you turn to the side, shoes sliding against the hardwood as you navigate around everyone running every which way. The sound of bodies exploding fills your ears, tears running down your cheeks. It is all too much to take in now, but your body does. It barely holds itself together as you push through the people. Someone grabs the back of your shirt, dragging you to the floor. Your head slams against it, eyes losing focus.

“This is your fault,” The Seelie spits, stepping harshly on your hand. It grabs your face, pulling you up from the floor. “My people have died for such a silly little human. You have started a war, don’t you know this?” You look down, leaves slowly rising from the floor. The moist leaves begin to rise, wrapping around your wrists.

“I didn’t.”

It drops you to the floor, turning around. It’s too late, another Unseelie appearing. He grips its neck, slamming it against the wall. "Beg."

His grip on its neck is tight as he holds it up against the wall, other hand stationary on his side. His eyes narrow as they stare into the Seelie's. You can only stare, hands still entangled in the tightened seaweed. His lip curls, a glint in his eyes. The Seelie makes no attempt to utter a sound. He hums, fingers digging into its neck.

"Look away, y/n," his voice is softer as he acknowledges you, eyes flicking to the side. "Unless you want to see its death." A crack echoes in the air just as you close your eyes. The body makes a loud thump, hitting the concrete. He steps to you, pulling the leaves off your wrists with ease. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground. You hiss at your wound pressing into him slightly.

"You can open your eyes now," he says. "Sorry about that. Didn't expect any of them to be hanging around you when there’s a lot more chaos to be dealt with. Thought we killed them all off, to be honest," he glances behind him.

His gaze moves to yours. Blood covers your cheeks, scrapes and scabs already forming. His expression hardens, until you look into his eyes. He should be angry right now. furious that your presence has led to this. But perhaps Mingi was right.

There's just something so strange about you.

You flinch when he tries to touch you. He pulls his hands back promptly, holding them up in defense. “Hey hey, I’m not a Seelie. You saw me earlier, didn’t you? I was talking to San, the guy that was shooting daggers across the room. I’m with Hongjoong, y/n. My name is Jongho.”

His name sounds vaguely familiar. You nod, and he helps you up. The screams have died down now. You keep your gaze on the floor, the smell already rising. You wouldn’t have guessed how familiar that scent of death would be. Jongho pulls you along, navigating you around the bodies and blood, and out the door.

“Yunho…?” You murmur, thinking back to how he was grabbed by a Seelie. “Is he okay?”

“Fine. Poor guy who grabbed him though, he’s shredded to Hell,” Jongho snickers, turning down a hallway. “Seonghwa isn’t in the lab, but one of us will be around soon. Stay there for a bit while we deal with this, okay?” Jongho stops in front of the door. It’s already open. You still haven’t looked up from the floor, too overwhelmed with what you’ve just witnessed. “Hey y/n, you okay there?”

“This is all my fault, isn’t it?”

Jongho does not answer. He pats your shoulder once, "We will solve this. Stay quiet." He closes the door, leaving you alone.

“Is Yunho alright?” Jongho enters the room, glancing to the side. His nose wrinkles at the devastation surrounding the area. Tables flipped over, masks scattered about. Dead faeries in pieces. No one answers him. Hongjoong stands in the middle of the room, staring down at a body. Jongho begins to look around and spots Yunho in the corner. He’s still, gazing down at his trembling blood drenched hands. Mingi is near him, crouched in front of him as he whispers. Jongho isn’t particularly interested in hearing anything he has to say, moving closer to his leader.

“We looked weak in front of them all,” Hongjoong says. “Pathetic.”

“It was the best choice at the time-”

“Was it?” He looks at him, brows furrowed. “Was it a good choice to allow a massacre to happen because they wanted a human? Our people saw me defend it over everyone else. They will remember this day.”

“They know the stakes well enough. They understand that you had a reason for it. Anyone with eyes could see that she is different. That’s why Yeonjun himself wanted her so badly-”

“You should have given her up,” San grunts, lifting a table back into its place. “Now we have to deal with Seelies following us wherever we go. It will be a hindrance.”

“I already have Yeosang and Wooyoung dealing with that,” Hongjoong waves him off. “But I have lost favor. It will take a while to gain it back.”

“We are all faeries, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa’s hand hovers over a body. It slowly dissipates, his gaze shifting up to look at his leader. “We took the risk in keeping her because we know of the influence she has. Despite what I have been saying, I do think it is best to keep her around. At least until we find the cause of her resistance. Once we do, that information would be more valuable than anything that has happened tonight.”

Jongho frowns. “Life is less valuable?”

Seonghwa shrugs simply, “They will be remade. It is nothing.”

“You’re beginning to sound like the Seelie,” Jongho murmurs, his spark’s gazes shifting to him. “We are to be better.”

“We are Unseelie, Jongho. We are nothing better. But speaking of the human,” Seonghwa stands, wiping his hands on his pants. “Where is she?”

“In your lab.”

Seonghwa’s eyes seem to widen comically, pushing past Jongho.

"What's wrong?"

Mingi looks at Jongho from his spot, “None of us looked around to see if it was clear, Jongho. You may have just killed the human. All of this bloodshed for nothing.”

Several of the others follow behind Seonghwa, Jongho running after them. He arrives at the lab just as Seonghwa slams open his door. The sight startling to behold. Seelie blood coats the walls, tables destroyed and medical supplies scattered about. But it is almost the least surprising thing in the room.

In the middle of the carnage sits you, fingers wrapped around the handle of a dagger Seonghwa stored on the wall for decoration. Wounds cover your body, leg twisted at an odd angle. But your eyes are away from them. Glued to the pieces of Seelie below you.

“y/n?” Jongho whispers.

You hand trembles at the sound of his voice, dagger dropping from between your fingers. You look up, passed Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Directly at him.

“I didn’t mean to.”

#fic: wonderwall #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez fic #ateez series #ateez yandere

441 notes · View notes