#and yet another scene they should’ve left in | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nexysworld · 5 months ago

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Summary: Raccoon City, 1998. Leon, a rookie officer, encounters an exceptionally unique girl while on patrol. Captivated by her and concerned for her well-being, he decides to take her under his protection. Slowly, his thoughts increasingly revolve around her, and his concern for her safety turns into an obsession. Pairing: Developing Yandere Leon x Puppy Hybrid Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, Oneshot, Mild Slowburn, Female Masturbation, Sex, Creampies, Dubcon, Controlling behavior, Incredibly Naive Reader, Non Outbreak AU, Fingering, Pillow Humping, baby trapping, mentions of past trauma/medical related trauma, Umbrella corporation being evil, sweet sex, fluff, no use of y/n, heat cycles. WC: 14.6K

A/N: This was a commission for the ever wonderful and lovely @explorevenus. I loved writing this and I hope you love it too. <3 Also thank you @dollfacefantasy for beta reading for me. :)

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Thick fog permeated the area obstructing Leon’s view through the windshield of his cruiser. He didn’t really see a point in traffic patrols on nights like this; the road wasn’t visible, nor was any potential crime. Though he had to admit it was nice being able to sit and listen to the radio with nothing else to pull his attention.

The particular strip of highway he was monitoring connected to the dense and dark woods that began the separation from the city to the mountains – it wasn’t uncommon for the shadows of the wildlife to occasionally dance against his headlights before the animal skittered off. It was something that used to unnerve him, but he’d grown used to it by now.

The night bore on with little eventfulness, it was nearly midnight and time for Leon to phone in that he was ending his shift. Another night, exactly the same as before.

Carefully, he pulled the vehicle out onto the road, keeping just slightly below speed to make up for the lack of visuals. Not paying much attention to anything besides the dim road ahead, he didn’t process anything in his peripherals – especially not the figure running towards the street.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, slamming the breaks. While the impact wasn’t high speed, it was too fast to stop in time – as he braced himself by squeezing his eyes shut, he heard the thump of something hit the hood. By the time he opened his eyes, he caught the tail end of the body rolling off and onto the road.

“Are you alright?” He called out, not sure yet if it had been an animal or a person, as he shakily made his way over to the scene. His breath hitched upon the sight. “What the hell?” A girl, naked and ragdolled onto the pavement with a nonhuman set of ears and tail. Leon bent down, pressing his fingers to her neck. “She’s got a pulse, that’s good. Hey, can you hear me?” No sound came from the girl before him.

He knew he should’ve called for backup, had the paramedics on the way – but something about the whole situation was so peculiar it had his mind working at a negative speed. Gently he rolled her onto her back. There was no blood, just some scuffed up bruising on the girl’s left side from the impact, a goose egg forming on her head.

Gently he tugged on one of the dog-like ears, expecting it to be part of a costume or a headband. Leon was thoroughly perplexed when he realized they were attached to the girl’s head, nearly jumping back when they twitched. A pained groan left her mouth as she moved a bit, coming back to the conscious world, eyes lazily opening. Another muted mumble left her mouth as she rubbed at her head before sitting upright.

“Miss?” Leon put his hand on her shoulder trying to get her attention again.

She met his gaze and in an instant recoiled from him, growling as she scowled, even baring her teeth.

He noted the way the dog-ears on her head had pointed back all on their own, further evidence of them not being a costume prop. It was absurd, and he wasn’t sure whether to be on guard or laugh at her strange behavior. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been in such a strange situation in his entire life. “Miss, I need you to take a deep breath for me, calm down.”

She didn’t let up, growling at him with more intensity, her stance becoming tighter as if she was winding herself up to spring at him. Despite the hostility, he could see it in her eyes that she was scared.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He reached his arm out again, slowly. “I’m a cop, I help people….do you understand me?”

She gave him an untrusting glance, eyeing at the hand as if it were offensive to be in her presence, but the growling had stopped. He dared his hand even closer again, this time managing to gently touch her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “You’re safe with me.”

Her bottom lip quivered before she relaxed a little.

He smiled at her. “Can you talk?”

“Yes.” Her voice was hoarse.

“My name’s Leon. Do you have a name?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You got roughed up pretty good,” He tore his heavy uniform jacket off, wrapping it around her shoulders before standing. “You too hurt to walk? Need help up?”

She shook her head again, using the hood of the cruiser to wobble back to her feet. He could see the goosebumps on her skin from where the cool air was hitting everything not under the jacket – though he quickly averted his eyes up from where her indecency started. He placed a hand on her back, gently motioning her to follow him to the door of the car, opening it and ushering her into the warmth of the back seat. “What happened to your clothes?”

“Don’t have any.” She stared back at him, tilting her head to the side, dog ear flopping with it. It was cute, probably the cutest thing Leon had ever seen, and he wasn’t even sure what he was seeing still.

“Where are you from?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are you doing out here alone?”

She didn’t reply, nor did he get a peep out of her for any other questions. When it became clear that she was shutting down, Leon had to think fast. “These are real, aren’t they?” He asked bringing his hand out to touch the soft ears atop her head again. He felt them perk up beneath his hand, and he gave a little scratch to it, hearing the telltale sign of her tale thump lightly against the leathered backseat. “You like that, huh?”

She responded by closing her eyes, nodding into his touch.

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

“No.”

Leon wasn’t sure what to do with the girl. She hadn’t done anything illegal – unless you counted public indecency, but he could tell that probably wasn’t by her own choice. On the other hand, she clearly wasn’t normal. He didn’t even know what to make of the animal attachments or her quirky mannerisms. With her head tilted to the side, he had a more clear view of her neck now, a tattoo catching his attention, it was a red and white logo he’d seen before. “The umbrella logo?” He asked out loud, more to himself than her.

She responded by jumping back in the seat, growling again, covering the mark with her hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He said, putting his hands up defensively. He was even less sure what a pharmaceutical company had to do with a girl like her – he could only venture to guess. Whatever happened there, she clearly wasn’t happy about it. “I won’t make you go back.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

“Then we’re in agreement.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, shaking it. She looked confused by the gesture but didn’t stop him. “When you shake on something, it means its a deal, you can’t go back on it.”

“Really?”

“That��s right. Why don’t you come stay with me for the night? You look like you could use some food and I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting you stay out in the cold like this.”

“Ok.” He helped slip her arms through the holes in his jacket, zipping it up before clicking the seat belt into place. She squirmed against it in a panic. “No! No! Get it off!”

“Hey, hey.” He cooed again, cupping her cheeks. “It’s alright. It’s to keep you safe.” She shook her head, fat tears brimming at her lash line. “It is, I promise.” He held his hand out to her again. She took it this time, mimicking his earlier action of shaking it. “See? I have to keep my word now.”

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You weren’t sure of the man sitting in the front seat, or why you had to be strapped down again. You hated being strapped down. But there was something about his eyes, they were so kind compared to the scary men in white lab coats. His scent too, sweet and musky, not the sterile chemical smell that was scattered around the labs. Leon was nice. Leon was safe.

The warmth of the moving box you were in was all it took for the soreness and fatigue to catch up with you, eyes growing heavier and heavier until you found yourself sinking into that sweet and comfortable darkness.

“Hey, we’re home.”

The familiar sound of Leon’s voice tore you from slumber, annoyed, you let out a grumble readjusting in the seat. Only the jarring feeling of the cold hitting you as the door opened again was enough to yank you fully back to consciousness with a frown. “Don’t wanna move.”

He sighed. “Then I won’t make you,” a moment later you were being scooped up into his arms. Being cradled against his chest felt nice, another thing so very unlike the way you were used to being treated.

The inside of his home wasn’t what you were expecting. Every corner of the small house radiated his scent, and it was warm. Not a concrete wall or blindingly white light anywhere. The couch he’d plopped you down onto was soft, fabric feeling nice against your skin. It couldn’t even hold a flame to the sticky leather of Dr. Birkin’s office seat. Sinking into the plushness, you couldn’t help but bury your nose into one of the pillows, tail wagging heavily as you took in more of Leon’s scent.

“Comfy?” He asked with a soft laugh.

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“You wait right there, I’ll be back. I just need to get out of these clothes, then we can work on getting some food in you.” He ruffled your hair, making you giggle. The heaviness of his jacket and the comfiness of the cushions kept you in place.

When he returned, he was in gray pants and a white shirt. He held out some fabric towards you. “I get the feeling clothes aren’t something you’re used too, but I think it would be best if you put these on.” There was a light flushing to his face as he said the words, though you couldn’t figure out why.

“Why?” You asked, taking them from his hand. They didn’t smell as deeply of him as you’d liked, instead a synthetic floral scent wafted to your nose making your face scrunch up. “They smell bad. I don’t need them.” “Bad? They’re fresh out of the laundry they should smell like – oh. Your sense of smell is probably a lot stronger than mine, isn’t it? Hold that thought.” He ran back up the stairs again, this time coming down with another shirt. He thrust it out waiting until you took it. “That better?”

Yanking it from his hands, you brought it to your nose, inhaling it. It was much better, wrapped in Leon, you nodded in acknowledgement.

“It’s my undershirt from earlier, thought it might work better. Let’s compromise, you can wear that shirt, but the boxers gotta be fresh since they’re not as close to your nose.”

You considered his suggestion, rubbing the fabric against your face again. “Alright.” He helped you unzip the jacket and slide it off before slipping the shirt over your head, then holding out the black bottoms for you to step into.

You didn’t love it, the way the clothes felt against your skin, it was restrictive in a way you weren’t used to – but when he praised you, petting your head again you decided you could suffer through the torment of clothing for him.

“Good girl.” He praised again, and you were done for, practically crawling into his lap to get closer to the hand that was scritching behind your ears. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore, but ok.”

“I think I have some medicine –”

“No!” You interjected. Medicine was never a good thing, it meant feeling hazy, fuzzy. It meant waking up with headaches, not feeling like yourself. Medicine was bad.

“It’ll make your head and side feel better.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ok, ok.” He gave in, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you, gently running his hand down the back of your head in slow repetitions. “But if it gets too bad, let me know. Are you hungry?”

“I am.”

He nodded, reaching for the phone on the side table. He said something about a large with extra cheese, but you had no clue what that meant.

In fact, when he eventually answered the door and presented you with the triangular piece of food, you were even more confused. “What’s this?”

“It’s pizza.” He replied as if that was obvious, holding up the dripping thing and taking a bite out of the pointy end.

You sniffed at the unfamiliar food. It looked nothing like the slop that constituted your meals back at the lab. It smelled strange too – but as Leon wolfed down his own piece, you took that as a sign it was safe to eat, even if a little strange.

You couldn’t stop the moan leaving your mouth as your tongue met it – a strange mix of flavors but all were delicious as it melted in your mouth. Practically inhaling the piece, you scrambled forward to stuff your face with more.

Leon chuckled, rubbing your back. “I get the feeling you’ve never been given a decent meal before.”

You shook your head, another piece of pizza dangling from your mouth as you did so.

“Well, from now on you won’t have to worry about that.” He assured. “Promise.”

Did he really mean it? You weren’t sure, but so far he’d been nothing but kind. You smiled at him, food still in your mouth as you reached over to shake his free hand, making sure he couldn’t go back on his word.

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The moment the front door flew open, Leon was greeted by the tell tale sign of her presence, feet pattering around against the wooden floors as she bounded towards him. He caught her in his arms like he had every prior day, holding her close and resting his chin on her head.

Her tail wagged behind her so fast it was hardly visible, but he could feel the light air current it created. Nothing warmed his heart more.

“You have a good day, sweetheart?”

“Mmm yeah, was boring without you though.” She whined. “They played the same movie on TV like 8 times!”

He chuckled brushing some hair away from her forehead before planting a kiss there. “That’s the worst.” He agreed, gently prying the girl off of him so he could make his way further inside the home to begin their evening routine – the same routine they’d gone through each night since he’d taken her home.

Leon didn’t have much going for him, sure he achieved his goal of graduating from the police academy, hell he even got his first pick of the local stations. But it wasn’t as fulfilling as he’d hoped. He had no grand career plans, or even life plans. His only reason for joining the police force was so he could help people, something that he rarely even did.

Traffic patrol, pencil pushing, the odd bar fight break ups – that was his life.

At least until now.

He found his thoughts wandering to her every spare chance he got. The image of her stretched out on the couch taking a midday nap, her curious naivety and childlike wonder over new things. The most mundane of things still revolved around her – and he loved it. Having someone to come home to and worry about gave him a genuine purpose.

“Leon?”

“Yeah?” He responded as he pulled the soft cotton tshirt over his head.

“Can we go on a walk tonight, please? Please?” She begged as she sat on the edge of their now shared bed.

“I don’t know, you remember what happened last time - “

“I know, I know. But I swear this time I’ll stay right by your side. I’ll even wear the hat!”

He let out a sigh, it was hard to say no when she was looking at him like that. “What has you wanting to go out so badly?” The thought of it dredged up some anxiety. While she was free to run about the property as she pleased, taking her into public was a different challenge all together. Not only were her social skills needing some work, but he was worried that wherever she’d come from, whoever had kept her originally was still looking for her. Despite the time spent together, she hadn’t opened up much about anything still, not that he blamed her.

“The TV said there’s a para aid tonight.”

“A para aid?” He had no clue what she was going on about.

“Yeah! They showed all these fancy lights and food.”

“Oh, the parade! The one down by the carnival.” He said in realization. “I don’t know… there’s going to be a lot of people there, lots of smells and noises too…”

The way she immediately shrunk down on herself, deflated in defeat, broke his heart. Her tail stopped wagging, fluffy ears flattened against the top of her head. It felt so wrong to be the cause of that upset, gut wrenching really. “You promise to keep the clothes on the whole time, and not run off on me?”

She perked up immediately, so quickly he was under the distinct suspicion she’d only been feigning her upset to get her way. Even that was endearing though. “Promise!”

“Then we can go for a little bit.”

When she was at home running around in his boxers and shirts, it was adorable. But something about her dressed in his oversized clothes did something to him that he couldn’t explain. The gray beanie keeping her ears in place, the blue jacket covering where her tail was belted to her back, the jeans bunched at the waist and pooling at her ankles – it was like a sign of ownership in a way.

He wrapped his arm around her, keeping her tucked into his side as they walked. He could see her head darting around every which way as the overwhelming sights came and left their view. “You alright?”

“Yeah. There’s just so much.”

“I told you.” He chuckled, squeezing her into him more. “If it gets to be too much, let me know and we can head home, ok?”

She nodded, but her eyes were already glued on the twinkling set of lights from the moving vehicles ahead of her. Leon moved the two of them forward enough so they could see the floats clearly as they came by.

“They’re beautiful.” She said, eyes wide in amazement. He could feel her tail attempting to move under the confines of the jacket-belt combo. It saddened him a bit that she wasn’t able to express herself the way she deserved for such a happy moment.

“Not as beautiful as you.” He watched as she looked in the opposite direction of him, despite the glowing multicolored lights of the next vehicle making its way past the crowd, he could still see the twinge of a flush on her cheeks from his comment. She looked pretty like that, soft and vulnerable – he couldn’t remember the last time someone gave him that fuzzy feeling, made his heart skip a beat.

“You really think that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then why do I have to cover my ea - “

He shushed her, gently pulling her away from the crowd of people and the ongoing parade, until they were behind one of the teacup carnival rides. “You know you need to keep quiet about that when we’re out here. You promised.”

“But I don’t understand… if you think I’m pretty then why do I have to hide it?”

“Because - “ He was cut off when a group of teenagers bumped into them.

“My bad!” The kid said, waving them off as they walked away. The spot the two of them stood in was becoming more and more crowded as the street parade ended. With more people flooding in, Leon realized this wasn’t the time nor place for this conversation – but he knew he couldn’t leave her so upset either.

“Look, let me take you on one of the rides and we can talk, ok?”

“Rides?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll like it.” He said pointing to large ferris wheel rotating around. “That one, you get to sit in those carts and once you’re at the very top, you’ll get the view of the whole city.” Not waiting for her response, he took her by the hand leading her over to the line. Being halfway through the night there weren’t as many people lined up for the rides as there were for the games and food stalls. It didn’t take long before the two of them were seated, and the ride began to move.

He could tell by her body language alone the movement had her on edge. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t go any faster than this. We’re safe.”

“And I can look out?”

“Yep, just like I said, look.” He pointed out showing the bustling city below them as the wheel reached its peak.

“Oh wow.”

“That’s where I work.” He said pointing out to the large RPD building. “And that’s where I go to get the groceries.”

“And the pizza?”

“Over there.”

Now that the ride had been filled, it began to rotate again, she watched the city intently as it went around a few more rotations. He didn’t want to interrupt her intense fascination, so he let her be, only reaching out when she went a little too far over the opened window than he would’ve liked.

“Can we go again?”

“I can ask.” With the evening winding down more, and only a few others wanting to join the ride, the attendant nodded, allowing them to go again.

This time, her fascination dwindled slightly as she stayed put in the seat. “Can we talk about it now?”

“Covering up?”

She nodded, fidgeting with the cuffs of the jacket sleeve.

“When you’re home watching TV, do you ever see anyone that looks like you?”

“No.”

“It’s because you’re special, one of a kind.” He said tucking a stray strand of hair back under the beanie. “And I love that about you. My special puppydoll.” He smiled as she nuzzled into his hand. “But, because you’re so special, other people might not feel the same. People can be really mean when someone is different than them. I don’t want anyone to be mean to you, or worse, hurt you.”

A moment of silence washed over them, she scooted closer to rest her head on his shoulder, the cart swaying slightly.

“They were mean to me.”

“Who?”

“Where I came from.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what else to say to that, it was the most information he’d gotten out of her and it hadn’t been a lot, but he was happy that she was confiding something after all this time. “I’m sorry that happened to you . . . Do you want to talk about it?”

“Dr. Birkin was the worst. There were two of them actually, lady Birkin and man Birkin. They yelled at me a lot, asked me tons of questions. Sometimes they would put me on this big table and tied me down, poke at me…” As she spoke her voice became more strained, her body tensing up along with it.

It was clear that her short explanation was merely the cliffnoted version of events, and he wasn’t going to pry further than that – he got the idea. “Hey, its ok.” He cooed, wrapping both arms around her. “You don’t have to worry about them any more. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

“What if they hurt you?” She peeked up from where her head had been nestled into the crook of his neck, a small wet patch formed where her eyes had watered.

“Why would they do that?”

“They’re bad people… and I wasn’t supposed to leave.”

“I’m a cop – its our job to keep people safe. And guess what?”

“What?”

“It makes us much harder to hurt.”

“Hey Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I try something I saw on the TV?”

“You’re not going to jump out of here, are you?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No, I think that would be dangerous.”

“Then go for it.”

He was surprised when her lips met his, her arms slinking around his neck. He returned the gesture, holding her tightly to him, closing his eyes. “You learn to kiss like that just from watching the TV? I’m impressed.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Can I do it again?”

“I’d never say no.”

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The wheel came to its last stop, this time the man outside insisting they had to get off. Leon nodded at the man, helping you step out of the cart.

“You hungry? I think some of the food places are still open if you want to try them. Or we can grab something on the way home.”

“Yeah, I’m starving.” You followed next to him as he was headed over to where the strong cacophony of smells was coming from. Like many experiences with Leon, it was something you couldn’t have imagined. Closing your eyes, you sniffed around, trying to identify and take in each individual scent that you could.

A familiar voice broke your concentration, if it weren’t for the stupid hat, your ear would’ve lifted allowing you better access to the sound. Instead it was muffled slightly, soon another familiar voice layered over that one.

Swallowing dryly, dared to peek at the offending voices and immediately froze. The Birkins, it was hard to recognize them without their white outfits, but it was them – blonde hair and all, between them a small girl grasping at both of their hands.

“No.” Voice breathless you tried to take a step and grab at Leon’s arm, only to realize he wasn’t next to you.

“What do you want?” The stranger responded.

“I-I’m sorr - “ The man didn’t let you finish, already walking away. Leon wasn’t anywhere in your sight, and despite your eyes darting around you failed to pick up on him or his scent. The surrounding crowd was beginning to overwhelm you, too much noise, too much to look at and take in. “L-Leon?” No response, not that your voice could contend with the chatter around.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump. “There you are.” Man Birkin. “We were wondering where you ran off too.”

Not giving the man a chance to do anything else, you took off. He gripped at the back of Leon’s jacket, almost yanking you backwards, but you caught yourself and slipped out of it, not caring if the surrounding people caught sight of your true form – all you were concerned with was getting away, putting as much distance between yourself and the Birkins as you could.

It wasn’t long before the maelstrom of colors and scents from the carnival died down, morphing into a disgustingly musty and cool toned city view. Legs burning, you stopped only to give yourself long enough to pant, trying to catch your breath. Peering around the corner and doing a quick 360, there was no one in sight, not Birkin, not Leon, not anyone.

A new sense of fear encompassed you, the realization you were lost and alone again, just like that night in the woods. Even worse, fear that if Leon did find you, he’d be angry. The hat you were wearing long blew off in the wind, the belt having been ripped off to free your tail – it made running easier. You were exposed exactly in the way you’d promised him not to be, and you’d managed to leave his side too.

“He’s going to hate me.” You whined into your hands, slapping at your face as the tears began to spill. “I’m so stupid. So stupid.”

Once calm enough to think the situation through more, you looked around again to assess your surroundings. The streets were empty, and it was a lot darker than it seemed from the top of the wheel. Eerily quiet too, so unlike the bustling cities you watched on the little box TV at home.

Gripping your tail with both hands nervously, you started your trek down one of the narrow roads. If you’d learned anything from the TV, it was that you don’t stay in alleyways. Besides that, what knowledge you had was limited, a fact you were now painfully aware of upon realizing that you didn’t even have a clue of where you were walking to. A green sign pasted to the wall looked familiar. There was someone wearing clothes similar to Leon’s, and a big white arrow pointing down the path ‘RPD’, you’d recognized those symbols from Leon’s uniform, and the huge sign he’d pointed at during the ferris wheel. “Cops help people.” You reminded yourself of his words.

You followed the arrow, stumbling about until you were before the gigantic building. A man was leaning against the wall, talking into a small radio. He was huge, the biggest man you’d ever seen, brown hair and muscles everywhere. His clothes weren’t quite the same as Leon’s but seemed different than the other people at the carnival. Nervously, you stepped forward. “A-are you a cop?”

He looked down at you, despite his larger and slightly more gruff exterior, his eyes were soft and kind like Leon’s. “Not exactly, something like it though. Are you alright?”

“I’m looking for Leon.”

“Leon? Leon….oh officer Kennedy. He’s not working tonight.”

“I know, I got separated from him.”

“Ah, I gotcha.” He took a step forward, instinctively you took one back, not trusting of the stranger just yet. “Hey, no need to be scared. I can help you.”

“But you’re not a cop?” You asked, taking another calculated step back.

“Not a cop, but I still work here with Leon. See?” He pulled some type of badge out. It was too far away and too dark to see clearly, but the shape of the badge itself looked like the one Leon usually kept in his uniform pocket. “The name’s Chris, Chris Redfield. Come on, you can come inside and wait while I call him.”

“Ok.” Where you had been standing it was dark, but once the streetlight fully illuminated your figure, you saw his face change. Sensing no malice, you didn’t make a move to run, but you didn’t walk any closer either.

Chris opted to come to you, eyes narrowing suspiciously at your form. Your ears were flat to your head as you looked up at him. “Are those...real?” It was so similar to your first meeting with Leon, even the large hand coming down to pat your head, scritching at them. It felt so good, you’d let the grip on your tail go, rubbing back into his hand. You recognized the look of concern that spread over his feature, but it was quickly replaced with a smile as he guided you into the building, and past several doors.

The man took a seat behind a desk, watching you as he picked up the phone. It rang a few times before he put it back onto the receiver, no answer. “You don’t look so hot. Hungry? Need a drink?”

“Please.”

“Here.” He said, opening a metal tin before handing it to you. “Homemade by my sister, guaranteed to be delicious.” He stood from the rolling chair he had been seated in, looking down at you. “Wait here for me, I think his cell number is somewhere around here. Just don’t leave this room, got it?”

Already halfway through scarfing down the sandwich, you couldn’t respond. You nodded in agreement though.

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Leon had never experienced anxiety on this level before, not once in his entire life. One moment he was ordering food, the next he realized you hadn’t been by his side. His heart sank.

The next hour he’d spend running around the carnival area, up and down the streets where the parade was, only to come up empty handed. When he’d stumbled upon his jacket, he felt sick to his stomach – only worst case scenarios came to mind; your dead body on one of his police reports, headlines about a mysterious science experiment gone missing, or arguably worse – someone else taking you home for their own pleasure.

The thoughts only worsened when he pulled the antenna up from his phone before flipping it open. “Leon? It’s Redfield. I think I have your uh….friend here. The one with the extra parts.”

“Is she ok? Is she hurt? How’d she get - “

“She’s fine. But we need to talk. I’m keeping her in my office for right now, no one else is here besides some pencil pushers, but some of the patrolling squads will return soon. I won’t be able to hide her all night.”

“Shit.” Leon dug his sneaker into the gravel. “I can be there in 15, no more like 25 with all the traffic leaving. Look Chris, I can explain. “

There was some shuffling and Chris greeting someone on the other end of the line before his voice picked up again. “Bad news, some of the teams are already back.” His voice was now a low hushed whisper. “Look, just go home, I’ll meet you there with her. You’re still at the old sheriff's house right?”

“Yeah but wait - “

“Gotta go.”

Leon bristled as the call cut off, snapping the phone shut. The walk to his jeep, and the drive back home were done in silence. He felt out of his own body, swishing back and forth on waves of anxiety. He paced back and forth waiting for an update.

It felt like a lifetime had passed before the glow of Chris’ headlights made an appearance through the front windows of the house. Leon couldn’t contain the childlike giddiness he felt, bolting out the front door and over to her; crushing her into a too-tight hug.

“Leon…” She whined, attempting to squirm under his grasp.

“No.” He said firmly, refusing to let go. “I can’t believe you ran like that, you promised me.”

“Leon it wasn’t -”

“I don’t care. Don’t you ever scare me like that again, do you understand?” He finally gave her enough room to look up at him. He felt horrible at the knee-weakening stare she gave back, but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down enough to comfort her just yet. “Go inside and wait for me, I have to talk to Chris.”

“But Le - “

“Go.” He said more firmly, pointing towards the front door. He waited for her to slowly make her way towards it, ears down and tail nearly tucked between her legs.

“Hey, don't be so hard on her.” Chris said, putting his hand on Leon’s shoulder.

“Yeah I know. I’ll apologize later. Thanks for bringing her home.”

“Sure thing.” There was a moment of silence that passed between the two men before Chris finally piped up again. “Leon . . . how do you even have that girl? I saw the umbrella logo on her neck, she’s probably some experiment, or worse, a bioweapon.”

“A what? Her? No. No way.” Leon said, shaking his head. “She’s different...but harmless.”

Chris sighed. “I think so too, but you never know. How did you even get her? How long have you had her?”

“Almost a year now. I kind of stumbled on her one night during the end of my patrol. She was so scared, I couldn’t send her back Chris, not if you saw that look in her eye.”

“I get it.” The taller man said. “You should be more careful. I’m not sure the ins and outs of it all myself, but I know that higher ups in the S.T.A.R.S. unit sometimes work with Umbrella. I wouldn’t even be surprised if that girl was reported to them already. I’d keep her away from the city from now on.”

“You’re right.” It wasn’t like he’d let her go out often as it was, but after tonight, he was realizing that she wasn’t made to go out at all. She was far better off here, at home. He also knew that she wasn’t going to like that change - but it was for her own good. “You’re not going to uh…say anything are you?”

“Nah.” Chris shrugged. “I don’t see a point, it wouldn’t benefit anyone. She’s better off with you, I think.”

“Well thanks again for bringing her back.”

“No problem. If you two need anything, let me know.”

Leon nodded, he watched as Chris made his way back to his vehicle and waved him off, not moving until it was out of sight. The anxiety from the evening hadn’t fully left Leon, and now that she was back home and it was just the two of them, he was nervous. Not in the sense that he thought they would have a confrontation, but he knew given everything it would be awkward and he hated the feeling of awkwardness.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He called out noticing she wasn't splayed across the couch like he expected. The non-immediate response set off alarm bells in his head, but he was relieved when she came trodding downstairs in her usual attire.

“What?”

As expected, she didn’t look happy, brows knitted together anger written all over her face. He pulled her into another hug with one arm, his free hand gently smoothing over the top of her head, focusing on her ears in a short rhythmic pattern. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. I’m just happy you’re safe, and home.”

“I didn’t mean to run off.” She mumbled against him, clinging to him in a hug of her own. “Really. One moment I couldn’t see you anymore, and I saw the Birkins there. It was so scary, I didn’t know what to do.”

“I should have kept a closer eye on you. I’m sorry.” Leon gave her a quick peck of the lips before pulling back.

“Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I in trouble? I let Chris see me and -”

“No. No, you’re not in trouble.”

“Are you going to be in trouble?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Chris is a cool guy, you can trust him.”

“Ok.”

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It was about a week after the night at the carnival that you noticed something was different between you and Leon now. You weren’t sure if it had to do with the kiss, or the rest of the evening. A sneaking suspicion told you it was likely both.

Since that night, he never seemed to leave you alone. It wasn’t a bad thing, at first. New rules in place meant you weren’t allowed outside without him now, even on the property. He taught you how to use the house phone just so he could start calling several times a day to check in. When he was home, he was all over you, scarcely allowing you to even remain in a single room by yourself.

It was all for your own safety, is how he’d explained it.

He cared about you more than anyone else ever had, and the added attention made your stomach tingle, tail wagging and ears perked.

But soon it became too much, suffocating as time went on. It left you with torn feelings, on the one hand you knew you should be grateful to Leon, should soak in all the affection he bathed you in. And you wanted to really. Guilt ate away at you every time one too many hugs became irritating. One too many phone calls pulling your concentration from your current task. Going stir crazy in the same 4 walls day in and out. Not even being able to sit alone on the porch for a minute of solace.

It was so reminiscent of the lab, and you hated yourself for making that connection – because Leon was not like the Birkins or anyone else there. He was kind. He was sweet. You loved him. Moreso, even being locked within the house, you had more freedom than those sterile white walls and blinding lights that you’d grown accustomed to.

You felt shameful disgusted with yourself for harboring such thoughts. Despite that, the annoyance didn’t go away, it only grew despite yourself.

“Leooonnnnnn.” You whined, angrily tapping your fingers against the kitchen table. “You’ve been gone every day this week.”

“I know, I know. But Marvin’s been out sick, they needed someone to cover his shifts. Next week I’m all yours.” He said, ruffling your ears and kissing the top of your head like he always did. It was a small comfort, enough that you felt your tail do a single little thump against the seat. It wasn’t enough this time to improve your soured mood.

“I haven’t been out of the house in almost two weeks and that was just to sit on the porch. I’m bored. Can’t we go on another walk?”

“I told you to stop asking me that.”

You recoiled. He didn’t yell, Leon never yelled, but his voice was sharp and cut like a knife. His usually soft features were pointed with irritation, and it seemed so unfitting for him. It was only the second time he’d ever snapped at you like that. He wasn’t wrong either, you’d been shot down every time you’d asked, and when you kept up the onslaught of begging, he had respectfully told you to stop.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He said as he idly grabbed the ingredients for dinner. “I know you’re going a little stir crazy here, I get it. Really.”

“Does that mean you might change your mind?”

“No.” He said, shooting you a weak smile.

“But you just said you understood.”

“I do understand. But sometimes what’s best for us isn’t what makes us happy, we gotta stick it out.”

“How long do I have to stick it out?”

“I don’t have an answer for that. But I promise it won’t be forever.”

You weren’t sure if you believed him, but nodded anyway. “Ok.”

This time when he ruffled your hair, you felt a strange warmness waterfall over you. It had you squirming in your seat. “Can I go sit on the porch while you make dinner at least? Please?"

He shot you a warning look, but it softened in an instant. "Fine, but only the porch, not a step past it. "

"Thank you! Thank you!" You cheered, assaulting his cheek with an onslaught of kisses the moment he'd agreed. You heard him say something as you skittered off, but it didn't register, beyond happy to finally have a taste of fresh air - a view of something that wasn't the same set of walls for the first time in weeks.

The air slapped your face immediately. It was chilly outside, so much so you were debating heading back to grab a coat or a blanket, but the fear that you may not be granted permission to go back out if you even stepped an inch back into the house, kept you planted. A little cold was nothing compared to feeling of the wind in your hair, the different scents of nature drawing their way into your nose.

Your ears twitched, picking up the sound of something nearby. Chirping. A bird! It was perched in a tree at the end of the property where the well-groomed lawn spread out into the wilderness that spanned beyond the old fence.

The bright red was unlike anything you'd ever seen before in person. You wanted a closer look, just to observe it, halting the moment your foot lifted off the threshold of the porch. Leon had only permitted you to stay on the porch. He trusted you.

Your legs felt antsy, burning with the need to move, run. Your mind itched with the want to get closer to the small bird before it flew away. Before you were confided to the house again. A pathetic squeal-like whine worked its way from the back of your throat as you gripped the ledge of the porch, bouncing your legs up in down as if you were marching. You just wanted to see it.

Sure Leon would be mad if he knew, but if you were quick enough, only a minute, then he'd never know. Besides, you would still be on the property, technically.

Apprehension settled in your stomach, tethering you to the porch. "Leeeoonnn, I'm hungry. Is dinner almost done?" You called, cracking the back door open just enough to hear his response.

"Five more minutes." He called back, "I promise you won't starve, just wait out there for me, we can eat on the porch tonight."

"Ok!"

Five minutes. The door closed with a creak, the latch of the doorknob clicking into place. The fiery bird was still there, perched happily on the branch. Five minutes. You repeated on more time before taking off.

It felt so good, the bottoms of your feet flattening against the grass with each step. The wind knocking your hair backwards out of your face as you ran, tail and ears pointed. You had to resist the urge to spin, arms out, happy to be in the center of the open yard again. But there was only limited time, and you needed to make sure your little trip meant something.

Five minutes. "Crap." You muttered to yourself. "How long has it even been since he first said 5 minutes?" Realizing you didn't have the time to linger, you continued your journey jogging until you clutched the fence with both hands. "Ow!" The fence was splintered a part from age, but you hadn't expected it to bite you.

Only one hand was injured, little speckles of blood forming against your skin. The most damage done to your index and middle fingers. You shoved them into your mouth to suck and lap at the injury, ignoring the metallic taste in favor of finalizing your mission.

There it was in all its glory, this fat red bird seated in its nest. It turned its head side to side a few times as if looking down at you. "Wow." Murmuring around your injured fingers, your free hand cam up to reach out to it. It chirped and hopped around before fluttering it's wings and landing on your extended finger.

Eyes wide as saucers, your face almost hurt from how outstretched your smile was. Despite being so plump looking, the bird was surprisingly lightweight. It chirped a few more times. "Hello." If not for the stinging in your left hand reminding you of the current situation, you'd have felt like the Disney princesses Leon showed you.

Leon that's right, dinner would be done soon and you had no idea how much of the five minutes had been wasted. The turning off the doorknob in the distance had your ear twitching in that direction. It was too late to head back.

The sound of plates crashing to the wooden flooring made you want to cry, the bird sitting on your finger kept you where you were. Your hope was that maybe Leon would see it, understand why you'd done what you did, but the heavy stride of his steps told you otherwise.

"Leon -"

"Don't."

The last loud step by your side had the bird flying away, making you sad.

"You promised me! The first time I give you an ounce of trust and this is what you do?"

"I'm sorry - "

"You're always sorry! Do you want to be taken away? Do you want to go back to the lab, or worse be stuck with some stranger?"

"No."

"Go back inside."

"Leon the food -"

"Go. Back. Inside."

It was the first time Leon ever looked genuinely angry, his sky blue eyes feeling like lasers boring into the back of your head as you shamefully walked back towards the house. The remnants of dinner scattered over the porch from where he'd dropped them.

"Careful." He commanded, lifting you from behind to help you up and over the mess of glass and food, though the tone was far more annoyed than caring. You stood in the corner of the living room, watching him stomp around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets a little too roughly as he grabbed cleaning supplies.

Even the way he knelt down to begin scraping up the glass and food remnants off the ground just radiated negativity. "I can help clean it up."

"Don't bother." He said, getting as much of the mess into the dustpan. You sunk to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest, a defensive pose learned when you were still with the Birkins.

Leon didn't say another word to you as he stormed around the place, and you didn't have the guts to say anything to him either. You were in trouble. Real trouble.

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He can't remember the last time he was so angry. He didn't usually get angry. Just wasn't that kind of guy. On the rare occasion it did happen, he was pretty good at reigning it in.

Now though? It felt like pure heat radiated from every vein in his body. He couldn't breathe without steam working its way from his lungs. He wasn't sure what he was the most upset about, the breach of trust? The defiance? Or maybe the way she batted those lashes, the stupid bird on her hand.

Manipulative. That's what she was being, he was sure of it. Manipulative because she thought she understood how things worked, thought she could just decide to do whatever she wanted without consequence. Worse, she thought he was a pushover that would just allow it at every turn.

He pinched his nose, leaning against the counter. When he finally felt a little more numb to his emotions, he allowed himself to look over to where she was sitting, curled up in the corner like a child. He wasn't sure if it was genuine submission he was viewing, or another way of trying to get under his skin. The gurgling of her belly coupled with the silence from her mouth was enough to at least draw his focus from the situation to her immediate needs.

Leon pulled the phone off the receiver, speed dialing the Chinese place. He wasn't in the mood to cook again, and while he didn't want to reward your misbehavior, he couldn't help the pull of the crab rangoon, knowing it would make his own mood improve.

"Get up." The words came out harsher than he had intended and when she flinched from him, he felt nauseous. He cleared his throat, trying again, this time much softer. "I need you to get up, you can't stay there all night."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Yes." She look like she'd been shot. "But I won't be forever. " He gently tugged her arm, helping her to her feet. He ruffled the hair on her head before smoothing his hands over her ears a few times. "I ordered something to eat. Let's talk before it gets here."

It wasn't a request, but he still appreciated the nod he got in return as he led her over to the couch. He had to admit now that he was mellowing out, he didn't like the invisible separation between the two of them. Now he finally understood what people meant about the tension being thick enough to cut. The way she was sat, stiff as a board hands palm up in her lap, he bristled once he realized one of them was injured. If it weren't for the still lingering simmer of anger in him, he'd have given in already pulling her close and doting on her until that sad look on her face melted to the gleeful smile he was used to.

"You broke my trust." He began, "That really hurts my feelings. The first time I give you a little leeway and this is what you do? I'm so disappointed in you."

"I just wanted to see the bird..."

"Why didn't you come ask?"

"Because you would say no! You always say no!"

"I didn't say no to the porch, did I?"

"No...but - "

"I let you do almost anything you want, damn it! The only time I say anything is when it has to do with your safety. So the few rules I have in place I expect to be followed. It's that simple. You're more human than dog, control yourself next time." He was raising his voice again, and he hated the sound of it. His own words rattling in his head and yet they continued to flow like a venomous waterfall.

"It was just the end of the yard. I thought I'd see it up close, then come right back."

"And you got hurt anyway. Look at your hand. That fence was old, dirty, that could get infected. And then what? It's not like I can take you to a regular hospital...." He put his palm over his face, sensing he needed to calm down all over again.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Really I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He wish he hadn't looked. Her face contorted and scrunched, red, tears and snot running down her cheeks. His chest tightened, mouth suddenly dry. That wasn't manipulation. No one ugly cried like that if they didn't mean it. It didn't change the fact that the trust he had in her was fractured, but any other negative feelings fizzled out with a pop.

"I believe you." He cooed, reaching forward to wipe some tears away from her face. "I forgive you. "

"I...love you....Leon" The words came between wracked sobs.

"I love you too." He wrapped his arms around her tightly, letting her sob into his shoulder. "It's ok. It's ok," he repeated as he pet her hair. "You just gotta listen from now on, sweetheart. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. I don't want to lose you. It would break my heart."

"I will. I promise."

He wasn't so sure of that. He believed that she believed it though, and that sentiment was enough. He let her finish out her crying session until the delivery driver knocked on the door, tearing them out of the moment.

"Just a minute!" He called out, returning his attention to her. "After I grab the food, we'll get your hand cleaned up, eat, and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be better, alright?"

"Promise?"

"Promise." He cooked his pinky finger around hers, pressing a quick peck to her lips. Her ears pointed up in return, tail lifting to slowly move back and forth. That was his girl.

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That strange warmness from earlier was back. A feeling of longing you couldn't quite place tugged at your core while heat made every part of your skin tingle, the bedding sticking to your clammy body. The wedge of moonlight coming in through the window caught your attention, pouring all your focus into eyeing it, trying desperately to ignore the discomfort, and to not wake Leon up. The last thing you needed right now was to have him upset with you all over again.

But whatever was wrong with you had slowly become too much, worsening by the hour.

The floorboards creaked with each step, feet feeling heavy as you tried to pad your way to the bathroom as quietly as you could. Even your lungs felt like you'd run a mile, panting the only way to get enough air without feeling suffocated.

One time, at the lab, you remembered feeling this way. It didn't last long before lady Birkin was stabbing a needle into your arm, frigid liquid cooling you down from within your veins. From that moment on, the shots became regular. They didn't explain what any of it meant, but you never felt that all consuming inferno again -- at least not until now.

Liquid cold. Instant relief.

That's all you craved. That's all you needed. That's all you could think about.

Liquid cold. Instant relief.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you flicked the light on, gripping the sink with your good hand so tightly a part of you was scared you'd crack the porcelain from sheer force of will. Your breath expanded over the mirror, fogging it up each time a heavy breath escaped. "Ok...I got this.....ok...." You told yourself, scuttling over to the tub.

Shower or bath, you mulled over the options quickly trying to make a decision. Leon took cold showers. He told you so, sometimes in the middle of the night, other times in the morning. You'd vaguely wake up to something poking you, and he'd be shuffling out of the bed. 'Shh. Go back to sleep.' He'd coo. 'Just feeling a little hot, 'gon take a cold shower, and I'll be right back.'

Good enough for you. The overhead shower roared to life as you turned the cold knob to max, water pattering loudly against the tub. You didn't even bother to strip, flopping yourself into the basin, clothes and all.

It felt like ice shards clattering against you, steam sizzling off your skin from the sheer difference in temperature. In any other situation, it would've felt miserable, too cold and uncomfortable. But right now, even the stinging pain of the water felt intoxicating compared to just being hot all over. It wasn't as good as the shot from lady Birkin, but it was enough to sooth.

As your body regulated its temperature, the aching sensations became more noticeable now. A pang of something between your legs had you clamping them together instinctively, skin making a slapping noise from the mix of force and wetness.

Your nipples hurt, hardening beneath the water, too rough against the tank top's fabric you had on. You needed to be freed from the clothes, weighing you to the bottom of the tub and sticking to your skin.

The shirt was the first to go, tugging it up and over your head, frustrated as the wet fabric seemed to stretch and stretch before it finally decided to free you of its grasp. The wet shirt hit the door with a smack and a plop, before sliding down onto the tile floor. You hiss when your nipples were exposed to the air, droplets of water making direct contact with the pruning skin. It wasn't as painful as the fabric, but it was definitely more sensitive.

Flattening your palms against your chest, you kneaded at your breasts, hoping warming them up a bit might help. It served its purpose, but each movement, skin rolling against skin made unfamiliar sensations of longing pulse between your legs.

You groaned, squeezing your legs together again. Every time you fixed one issue, another seemed to pop up somewhere else. You just wanted it all to go away.

The boxers were next, discarded next to the tank top. Now you felt weightless where you laid, nude flesh encompassed by the hug of the tub, water splashing down on you like rain. You were sure this is what heaven felt like, until another round of pulsating from your core made you bristle, ruining your moment of peace.

"No more..." you breathed out loud, startling yourself with the unrecognizable tone of your own voice.

You adjusted, one arm snaking its way under your neck for support, the other finding itself between your legs hoping to massage out the sensation if you could, like dealing with any sore muscle. The cold tips of your fingers brushed past something that made you gasp, toes flexing. A cold jolt, a warm tingle.

Tentatively, you brought your fingers back to that spot again, pressing down. It felt good, not quite as good as the first time, but the firm pressure seemed to quell some of the throbbing. You could feel your pulse in your fingers - were they being warmed by whatever was between your legs? Or was the cold of your fingers icing the spot there. You couldn't tell, both sensations melding together.

Why didn't it feel like the first time? Your brows came together, as you thought, eyes slipping closed. Spreading your fingers outward in a V shape, you felt it again, that jolt that made your lower half jump. The little bump, you discovered, was the key to that feeling.

Experimentally, you ran your index and middle finger over it again in a circular motion. A strangled noise worked itself out of your throat, and a muscle you weren't even aware you had tightened. It felt so good, but not enough. A burning pleasure on the outside, a dull thrum of need somewhere deep inside of you.

You wanted more room, spreading your legs as much as the tub would allow before hooking one over the ledge. You could worry about the water running off your foot and onto the floor later.

The water above served only as background noise now, your skin long numbed from the cold, allowing your brain to focus solely on what was happening below.

It felt like something was building up, like every sensation was working towards something, something you couldn't grasp. Frustrated noises echoed through the tiny bathroom, and your arm muscles burned with overexertion. Despite that, the need for something, anything, kept you going, desperately rubbing your fingers over the bundle of nerves in no rhyme or rhythm.

As fast as your body would allow, you pawed at yourself closer and closer until it felt like you were tossed off the edge of a cliff. Every muscle in your body tensed up. You forgot how to breathe. Splotches of white and black lights danced behind your eyelids. The shower was silent against the heartbeat hammering against your eardrums. Fuzzy ears twitched with your pulse, tail sloshing back and forth in the shallow water.

And as quickly as it came, the feeling was gone. So much rubbing, so much effort, so little warmth and too much exhaustion.

You went lax like a rag doll, leg sliding back into the tub, sore arm left where it was, hand still resting flat against your pubic area. When was the last time you felt this relaxed? Tired? Never, probably. Not even having the capacity to reach up to shut the water off, you were fully unconscious within seconds, facial muscles relaxing as the water rained down on you.

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Light burned through his eyelids, the familiar feeling of consciousness tugged at his mind. He yawned, rubbing at his eyes. It was rare he didn't have to wake up to an alarm, it felt nice, just getting to lay there for a bit. The lack of warmth and dip in the mattress next to him made him grumble. "Sweetheart?" He reached over, patting around for her and coming up with nothing but the cool sheets beneath his palm.

Panic made him shoot up, eyes barely adjusting to the light as he looked around. The sound of the shower caught his attention. It meant she was home, at least, easing part of his concern. However, she never showered in the morning. Was something wrong?

Leon wiped the crust and sleep from his eyes as he made his way down the upstairs hall to the bathroom. The door wasn't closed all the way, stopped from swinging open by wet fabric bunching beneath it when he tried. "What the?" He knelt so he could move the cloth from the door before swinging it open. He was more confused at first, not seeing her silhouette. In fact, the shower curtain was mostly open, water having misted around the floor. Where the hell was she?

His took a step forward, knees buckling at the sight. He caught the edge of the tub with his hands, pajama pants soaking into the water on the floor. She was in there, unconscious. Her skin blueish in tint, unmoving was the water splashed over her form. He scrambled to shut the water off, almost turning the wrong knob in his panic.

"Come on, wake up." He said, shaking her by the shoulder. Her body wiggled, but she didn't move on her own. "Sweetheart... what did you do?" He looked her over again. Did she fall? But there was no bruising or blood. He lifted her arm, dropping it back on top of her. Nothing. He tried to feel for a pulse, but her skin was too cold to feel anything. Luckily, with the water off, it took only a moment before he heard the telltale sound of her teeth chattering together, even her tail seemed to vibrate as her body shivered involuntarily trying to gain some warmth. He'd have turned the warm water on if not for how pruny and textured her skin already was. She was practically water logged, but alive.

He yanked the towel off the bathroom rack, tossing it over her, helping to get a grip on her torso before pulling her out of the tub, cradling her against himself. He cartoon slid out of the bathroom, water making his feet hydroplane on the finished wood as he rushed you back to the bedroom. He didn't care about the mess, he just needed you to be ok, stuffing your cold body under the comforter, wrapping himself under with you, cocooning you in his body heat.

"Leon?" She blinked, knocking a few beads of water off her plush eyelashes. She was shivering violently. "I'm so cold."

"What the hell happened!?" His words held no malice, he was terrified more than he had the capacity to be angry, rubbing his palm against her back desperate to get some friction going between them.

"Was so hot... just wanted to cool off. Fell asleep...."

"You fell asleep in the shower?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you manage that?"

"So hot, then so sleepy."

He hadn't a clue what the hell she was talking about, but he was glad she was alive. He made a mental note to add a rule now that she wasn't allowed to use the shower without him from now on. In fact, he was already brainstorming a whole new set of rules and restrictions.

Every day, it seemed like she was tempting to pull herself away from him in one way or another. If it wasn't the way he could see her face tense when he was being overly affectionate. The way she complained and pushed boundaries. But this? God, he couldn't trust her to do anything anymore, could he?

His precious puppydoll, what was the matter with her? He peppered her forehead with kisses, ignoring his own shivering as the cold passed between them. She curled herself into him, his only focus was getting her comfortable and warmed up. He just couldn't understand her.

He wasn't sure how long the two of them had been laying there when she finally stopped shivering, falling back into sleep. Her breathing even, the sun through the window warm against the now soiled blankets. Leon couldn't find it within himself to do the same. He was wide awake, thinking about what to do. Watching her puppy ears twitch every now again, idly running his fingers through her now drying hair.

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You couldn't remember sleeping like that before, so exhausted, the world was gone. Dreamless. Vaguely, there was the memory of feeling so cold that your bones ached. Even when your eyes cracked open, part of your face felt numb - still you were nude, half wrapped in a towel and curled under the blanket.

'When did I come back to bed?' You thought to yourself, pawing at your eyes to get the crust and goopy feeling to go away. Despite the memory of freezing, the only thing you felt again was hot. Pure heat all over again.

"Good morning." Leon's voice caught your attention, his hands gently stroking your ears.

"Morning." You said, still groggy, a squeaky yawn leaving you as your eyes adjusted to the world. As if the warmth wasn't bad enough, everything felt off, the man laying in front of you just seemed so much more than he normally was. Leon's face was smooth, skin vibrant with life. You were hyper aware of the warmth on his cheeks, the cool undertones that cast the shadows of his features. His blue eyes were so opaque they could've been painted on stained-glass.

"Are you ok?" He asked, his large hand cupping your cheek. "Your pupils are dilated."

You had no clue what that meant, but you had this overwhelming instinct to press yourself to him, and you did. Nose nestled firmly into the crook of his neck, taking in a deep inhale. Had he always smelled this good? You whined, fisting his shirt to anchor yourself to him, tail drumming behind you in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the stimuli. His scent was so intense, it was hypnotizing, and you craved more of him. Your tongue reached out to lap at the junction between his neck and collar bone, tasting his skin. That new but familiar aching between your legs was back with a vengeance. You wormed your hand down between your legs attempting to stave off the feeling, when Leon's hands met your shoulders to push you away from him slightly.

"What are you doing?" His face was tinged with a bright blush you hadn't seen before on him. Was he embarrassed by something? You weren't sure why, he looked so perfect right now. "H-hey now." He said, pressing you away from him, a firm grip on both your shoulders.

"Leoonnnn..." You whined his name, squirming to get back to him. When he wasn't budging, face still etched in confusion, a low growl began to bubble from the back of your throat, fangs bearing at him from frustration.

"What the hell's gotten into you? Are you seriously growling at me?" He kept his hold on you firm, giving a light squeeze to your shoulders. His face morphed into something you couldn't fully read, a cross between what you presumed to be anger and something else. Unable to articulate your need for him, the heat you were feeling - the growling didn't ease up. You struggled in his grasp, snapping and snarling, pawing at his arms as best you could with the awkward angle.

"Bad girl!" He snapped, voice loud and sharp. He rolled you over, pinning you down against the mattress, using his body weight to keep you there, his face level above yours. The surprise movement coupled with chiding made you halt for a moment. With his face so close to yours, there was no reason for you to remain so upset, instead you happily peppered his face with kissing, running your nose against his jaw again to take in his scent. A contented mewl dug it's way out of you.

"Leon, please." Tail wagging between your legs, you tried so hard to get him to understand. "Too hot. Everything's s'hot. Make it better?" You ground your hips upwards against him a few times. Something hard poked against your thigh as you did it, but Leon didn't move immediately.

When he finally did move, he was peeling himself away from you. "What the fuck?" He asked aloud to no one in particular.

"Leon!" You demanded, reaching your hands out to grab at him. He dodged them easily, slipping off the mattress, staring down at you. "It hurts, it's too hot. Leon, please." The room felt like it was teetering, you were so wound up, you wanted to cry, scream, throw yourself onto the floor. Anything to help cope with the overstimulation of everything going on. Even the silence was too much, aiding in your ability to hear both your heartbeats pounding in your head. The heat, smell, the visuals.

Flopping forwards onto the bed, you buried your face in the blanket, inhaling his scent again. The corner of his pillow had caught against the spot between your legs from the movement. It was dull, but you felt it. That same pleasurable feeling from the night before. With a soft groan, you bore down again, grinding your hips onto the bed to try and get more of that pressure, anything to quell that ache.

Leon still hadn't said anything, but you were too driven by instinct to even care. The blanket blocking your vision, his scent mixed with laundry detergent sating your olfactory, all you could focus on was rocking your hips against the pillow letting that pressure build up again.

"I get it now..." He finally piped up, kneeling down and patting your shoulder.

Panting, you lifted your head to look at him. "H-help me?"

"I can't, at least not how you need." He brushed some of the hair that had clung to your face from sweat away. Again his expression was unreadable, and you hated it. You didn't understand, all you wanted was to feel normal again. For the heat and ache to go away.

Tears clung to your lash line, unable to cope any more as your hips picked up speeding, rutting desperately against the pillow. Leon drew his hand back as he stood again. He did a strange shuffle messing with his pants, before quickly exiting the room. You reached out for him, wanting to call him back to you, beg him not to go, but the door slammed closed behind him. Unable to do anything else, you squeezed your eyes shut, flopping there until a few more movements of your hips had that same pleasurable feeling washing over you again.

Sighing in relief, you just laid there, bringing the blanket back to your nose to inhale it.

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The moment the door slammed behind him, Leon bound down the stairs, skipping half the steps. He needed to distance himself, clear his head. Her erratic behavior had thrown him a loop that he could hardly process. The way she was begging for him, clinging to him, fucking herself against his pillow - all within a few minutes of waking up. It was enough to make his pajama pants tent painfully.

What he wouldn't give to let you pepper his face in more of those kisses while he railed you into the mattress. She shivered at the thought, pushing it to the outskirts of his consciousness to try and calm down. His palms felt sweaty, and his heart was hammering a mile a minute.

He couldn't do that to you. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be fair. You were in heat...at least he thought so. Not in your right mind. But even if you were in your right mind, he still hadn't concluded what exactly your relationship was. Were you even aware enough to consent to anything more than kisses?

He didn't know. And he wished he didn't care enough to know, wanting to give in to his baser instincts.

For now, he was stuck sitting on the floor in front of the couch, catching his breath. He leaned back, letting his head fall onto the cushion. "Fuck." He palmed himself through the cottony fabric of his pajama pants to ease his own tension. He couldn't get the image of her out of his head, every time he blinked he saw her dilated pupils, that lovesick longing. Leon's had girlfriends before, not many, but he's had them, and he's sure not one of them ever looked at him like that. There was never a connection he'd felt with someone so intense before, like she would die without him. Maybe she would.

She would.

He was sure of that fact, especially after last night.

He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. 'She does need me, I know that.' He confirmed to himself. 'God.' He let out a few deep breaths, removing his hand from his crotch, allowing his erection to deflate. It was just one more thing to add to the list of everything else he was dealing with.

Her behavior. Her desire to keep pushing his boundaries. Her erratic behavior the night before. Now this.

He listened to see if he could hear her. Luckily, there was nothing but silence from the upstairs bedroom. She'd likely fallen back asleep, giving him even more time to process things. In all his 21 years of life, he was sure he had never faced a challenge like this one before, but he was never one to give up or back down. His puppydoll needed him, and he was going to figure things out, even if it was the death of him. He owed her that, he owed himself that.

"I could call Chris, maybe..." He mumbled to himself, looking to the landline. Something about the idea of Chris knowing she was in heat, even imagining what she was looking like right now didn't set right with him. Leon wasn't a jealous person by nature, but somehow a phantom jealousy shut that idea down. No, she needed him not anyone else right now.

"Think, think." He chided himself, cupping his temples with his hands. Did he go back upstairs to her? Comfort her in the short term? Did he leave her there? Longterm?

He slicked his hair out of his face, emptying his head of all thoughts for a moment. "If she's in heat then she must have other instincts right? She's fertile, and she'll want to nest and...mating makes animals closer right?" He mused out loud, then it occurred to him. This situation was the solution, not another problem.

"No, that's messed up... I shouldn't even be thinking about..." But he was, the image of her swollen and gravid with a baby, his baby flashed before his eyes. She'd be so needy, tired. So focused on what her body was meant to do, she wouldn't need to try and get into any more trouble.

It was tempting. So very tempting.

It would solve her problem of being bored too, with a baby to focus on, take care of. She wouldn't have to be lonely while he was away.

The more he thought of it, the more appealing it was becoming. His cock was filling out again, twitching each time he pictured it. He had a solid job, a house, two things most people his age didn't. He could do it. Really.

By the time the wet spot formed on his pajamas, any moral argument against the plan had disappeared by the need to get his rocks off, to fuck a baby into her. He was convinced that this was the perfect solution in totality.

His legs were a little shaky as he stumbled to his feet, every step of the stairs felt like running through sand. Electricity skipped through his nerves, leaving him tweaking like a livewire. The door creaked open slowly, and he poked his head back in.

She hadn't moved from her spot, face down on top of the covers. One of her ears twitched, before pointing up in his direction. "H-hey."

Her head lifted just enough to look at him, her eyes glossy and dilated still. The sheen of sweat that made her skin glisten was enough of an indicator that she was still hot all over. "Are you mad at me?"

That shattered him, truly. "No, no sweetheart, I'm not mad. I was just...surprised." He coaxed her to sit up, taking his own spot next to her. "I'm sorry for responding that way. Are you still feeling uncomfortable?"

She nodded, "Yeah. Not like because, but everything is still so hot."

"Is that...is that why you took a cold shower last night?"

"Just wanted it to stop."

He nodded, "I understand. You had me so worried though, you can get really sick if you stay cold too long."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He said, pecking her on the cheek. "I'm sorry you're feeling so unwell. I think I can help you now though. Would you like that?"

"But I thought you said - "

"Nevermind what I said before. I was being stupid." The look she was giving him now nearly sent him into cardiac arrest, that sweet pleading face begging for him to devour her. "I promise, I'll make it all better, ok?"

"Really?"

He smiled, reaching down to lock his pinky around hers. "I promise. I'll make it all better, just trust me."

She nodded, and he took the opportunity to lean forward and capture her lips with his own, unlike the ferris wheel or any other time, he tried his best to convey his own need. He groaned into her mouth, tongue sweeping against her bottom lip before slipping it into her mouth the moment her lips parted. He slid it along hers, nearly whining himself as he pressed her back down onto the bed, grinding his tented and leaking cock down against her a few times, his pants soaking with her own juices.

"You're so pretty. So perfect. My pretty perfect puppydoll. " He cooed, pulling away just enough to kiss her jaw, then her neck. "I've never met anyone like you before. I've never wanted anyone as much as you before." He admitted, swirling his tongue over one of her nipples.

"Leon!" She gasped, squirming beneath him. He pressed himself down onto her more to keep her still before popping off to latch on to her other breast. He ran his thumb over the perked up one, smearing his own saliva across it as he worked the current one with his mouth. He could feel her thighs twitching from the stimulation, he could only imagine how her poor pussy was feeling. Her skin was feverish, sticky. He loved it, it felt so primal.

"Don't worry sweetheart." He leaned back to give her a moment to catch her breath, seizing the chance to spread her legs. He groaned at the sight of her slick folds, her hole twitching and closing over nothing. Prettiest pussy he'd ever seen, he ever would see, he was sure of it. Leon made a mental note to devour her next time, make her squirm and scream on his tongue until she was pulling his hair out - see how many noises he could get her to make. The thought alone almost made him cum, and he had to take a deep breath to refocus.

There was a task at hand, and his own need was starting to become painful. He tugged his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock and balls, letting his shaft slap against his abdomen. He hissed at the feeling of the air, relief washing over him from the lack of restriction.

With one hand he squeezed the base of his shaft, holding the pressure there before stroking himself slowly, as slow as he could without torturing himself. With his free hand he slipped two fingers into her folds, running them up and down, coating them in her slick.

"This might feel a little weird, just trust me, ok?" He warned.

"I trust you." She whispered, barely louder than a mouse.

"Good girl." He heard her tail hit the bed, wagging from the praise. 'Fuck, she's too cute.' He pressed his fingers into her slowly, she was so tight, so wet. He could only imagine the way she'd feel finally wrapped around him. He pressed his thumb against her clit circling it gently, leaving the inserted fingers still. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah. Feels good."

"Good." He nodded, beginning to move his fingers in and out of her slowly. "If it hurts, tell me, alright?" He picked up speed, switching from thrusting to spreading his fingers within her, feeling the resistance of her walls contracting from the movements. Her slick covered the palm of his hand, and he refocused his thumb back to her clit.

She made a noise, he wasn't entirely sure if it was agreement or not, but the look on her face was enough to tell him she was enjoying herself. He continued to finger her, entranced by the small squeaks she made, the way her facial muscles twitched with each new sensation. The sun hit her face at just the right angle, illuminating her features like an angel.

She was an angel.

God he loved her so much, it hurt.

He pulled his hand out, chuckling at the needy whine she let out. "Don't worry, just give me a sec." He wiped the slick from his hand all over his tip and shaft, making sure it was good and wet before leaning over her again. Pressing the mushroomy head against her entrance, he kissed her one more time. "I love you." He mumbled against her lips.

"Love you t-"

She was cut off when he sunk himself inside of her. He was careful, slow, whimpering at how constricting she was. It was euphoric nearly, how her walls squeezed against every inch of him, sucking him into her. Her eyes were wide, mouth parted the moment he gave a shallow thrust.

"So good. So good for me baby." He cooed, resting both elbows beside her head, lazily grinding into her. "Never had someone so perfect before."

"L-leon... so full...what's happening....?"

"I'm making you allllllll better." He said, sloppily kissing her jaw a few times. "Just like I promised." He enjoyed the closeness, the intimacy of laying atop her like this, slow, soft. "Gotta take care of my puppydoll."

She squeezed her eyes shut, relaxing against the pillow, soft whines escaping her with every movement he made. Now that she was more placid, and he was able to sink himself fully into her. The feeling was indescribable. He was on cloud nine balls deep inside of her.

"Such a good girl. Good, good girl." He chanted, pulling back just enough to pull her legs up to her chest, so he had a better angle to bear down into her. She wrapped her arms around him, latching her nails into his back, red crescent shaped marks left over every time she dragged them against his skin. Her nose buried in his neck as she clung to him, whimpering and whining.

The sound of his name falling from her lips, mumbled into his skin like a prayer, coupled with the squeezing of her walls around him, was enough to make him lose it. He felt his balls tighten the moment she came, nearly crying as he gripped her hips bruisingly, slamming the head of his cock as deep as he could. He held himself like that as he shot his load. "F-fuck." He groaned, squeezing his own eyes shut before shallowly thrusting again, riding out the hot waves of pleasure that overcame him.

He caught his breath, kissing her forehead a few times. He wasn't ready to pull out, even when he felt himself going soft. Instead, he propped himself above her a little longer before daring to crack his eyes open. She looked half asleep, peaceful beneath him. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired....good."

"I'm glad, baby. Still hot?"

"Not like before... Am I fixed now?"

"I think so, we might have to do this a few more times. But you'll feel better and better each time." He assured.

She nodded, yawning. He could see her eyelids growing heavy again, fighting off the impending sleep. "Poor thing, you should get some sleep."

"Slept a lot, don't wanna."

"You need it." He slowly pulled out of her, rolling off to the side so he could hold her close. He flattened his palm against her belly, imagining the future again, what it would feel like a few months from now. "Take a nap, I'll lay with you. I'll even take you on a walk later. "

"Really?"

"Really." He pulled the blanket back over the two of them. "I promise." She nestled herself into his side, hooking her pinky around his. She didn't say anything further, closing her eyes and sinking into unconsciousness next to him.

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readwritealldayallnight · 1 month ago

Text

Right With You

Captain John Price x Reader

wc: 2.5k words

warnings/tags: fluff

“By the time our lass is done with ‘em, they’ll never even know wha’ happened!” The enthusiastic Sergeant seated to your left reiterates, receiving a series of nods in agreement from those also in attendance to the briefing.

Soap’s eyes wander to and from everyone in the room, seeing the approval in their faces, until he lands on that of his Captain’s. While everyone else is looking at Soap after hearing his recap of the plan, Price’s gaze is fixated solely on your expression.

The Sergeant turns and finds a look of what might be apprehension across your face, perhaps hesitation?

“You’d be completely safe, bonnie. We’d never let anythin’ happen to ya.” He quickly attempts to cover all his bases, believing that he is reassuring your potential doubts. “There’ll be eyes all over the bloody place. Watchin’ out for ya.”

“We just can’t have you armed. It’ll give ya away if anyone notices.” Ghost pitches in from where he’s sat in the shadowed corner, arms crossed across his chest as though he’s bored from this meeting, contrary to the steadfast attention he’s been paying.

You nod to yourself, eyes downcast on your fidgeting hands in front of you. In theory, the mission is simple enough.

Some top-notch drug lord is meant to be hosting quite the soirée in a few evenings time. And while narcotics are not the 141’s concern, the solid intel that a known and highly wanted arms dealer will be in attendance, well that is the 141’s business.

As the newest member of the team, you’d never come in contact with the target of this operation, though your fellow task force members apparently had. This left their chances of sneaking into the mansion undetected at a much poorer odd. And while it wasn’t strictly necessary for the mission to be kept as quiet as possible, it was widely understood that the less of a scene you could all cause, the better.

It was decided then that you, were likely the team’s best chance of sneaking into the gala undetected, distracting the target long enough to get him alone, where the rest of your teammates would be ready and waiting.

You’d been in much riskier, more dangerous situations that this one before. The lack of being armed wasn’t what had you on edge about this mission. But you weren’t so ready to admit your concern in front of everyone yet.

“Ultimately, it’s your choice.” Price’s commanding voice comes from the head of the meeting table, continuing to look at no one but you for confirmation on your feelings. “We’ll find another way in if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“No, no. I’m just- processing over here. No, I agree. This plan makes the most sense. I say we do it.” You state, receiving a friendly pat on the shoulder from Soap, who starts drawling on about how he knew you had it in ya.

The rest of the briefing is spent going over details, pulling up blueprints of the location, creating plans A, B, through to Z, and all the while, you can feel your Captain steady gaze pressed upon you, almost as if he knows you’re hiding something.

It’s well past midnight when John hears the faintest of rapping at his closed door. He should’ve been out of his office hours ago, paperwork be damned. But he finds himself mulling over the upcoming mission, wanting to find any discrepancy or indication that the intel they received was anything but absolutely correct. He hates sending his men into situations based off shoddy intel, and though he does trust this source, he’d never forgive himself for putting you into danger when he could have prevented it.

He glances up, tempted to pretend as though the lamp on his desk isn’t obviously turned on and visible through the shade of the blind he has pulled down over the door’s small window. However it’s then that he notices the shadow of the figure stood outside, and it’s much smaller than any of his Sergeants or his Lieutenant, or anyone else that might usually come knocking at this late hour.

“Come in.” He orders, loud enough for you to hear. He fights to keep the smile off his face when he sees your timid figure slowly open the door, eyes glancing up at him and then back down to your shoes as you shut it behind you. He’s glad you came. He had half a mind to go looking for you tonight himself, ultimately deciding to put it off until tomorrow. Glancing at his watch, he supposes it is technically tomorrow.

He greets you by your name. Not your position, not your nickname or even by your last name, but your first name. He’s pleased to see the faint blush spreading across the tips of your ears and the apple of your cheeks, as you continue to try avoiding his eye contact.

“I’m sorry to bother you Cap-”

“You know you’re never a bother.” He cuts you off with a slight raise of his hand, wanting to reassure you that you’re okay to be here. “It is a little late though, don’t ya think?” He tilts his chin towards one of the free seats in front of his desk, indicating he wants you to sit.

“I just-” you say, smoothing out the fabric of your fatigues as though you’re comforting yourself. “I was hoping to talk to you about the mission.” Finally you meet his eyes, and though he is your superior, your commanding officer, your Captain, he knows he’ll give you anything you want so long as you’re looking at him with those eyes. He shouldn’t be so lenient with you, acting as though you can pick and choose which missions you’ll work on at liberty. But he can’t help it with you.

“It’s like I said before, love,” he finds himself internally cringing at his use of the pet name. It’s not the first time he’s caught himself calling you terms of endearment. Yet another thing he cannot seem to control around you. “If you’re not confident walking in unarmed then we can-”

“Oh, no! That- that’s not it actually.” It’s your turn to cut him off, surprising him slightly. He figured you were more comfortable admitting your reluctance in front of just him, rather than all the lads, and that’s what brought you here tonight. “There’s um, another aspect that’s uh, kind of got me just a bit worried.”

“What’s that?” He instantly poses the question, eyebrows furrowed, sitting up straighter in his chair. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, he wants to correct it as soon as possible.

“This is so stupid, um- I know that it’s a fancier event, right? And that people are going to be uh, expected to dance, right?” The Captain’s not sure he’s ever seen your cheeks turn so red before as he listens to your attempt at an explanation. If he wasn’t so confused he would find it downright adorable. “Like, fancy dancing, right?”

“I- I believe there’s going to be dancing yes. Usually there are at these types of things…” he mentions, unsure of where you’re going with this train of thought. “Suppose you could consider it to be ‘fancy dancing’.” He adds with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Right. Well sir I- I’m just worried I’m going to give us away and that the mission will be a failure and people will get hurt because of me and I would never want to put anyone in a-”

“Woah. Woah.” Price interrupts you once more, bringing your rant to a halt. “Sorry love, I think I’m missing somethin’ here. How would-”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

Oh. Oh.

That’s… not what he was expecting you to say.

“Dance.” He says, as if the word is suddenly somehow foreign on his tongue. “You don’t know how…”

“No sir. I don’t.” You say, gaze averting back down to yours hands as though this is something to be embarrassed about. “At least, certainly not the fancy dances they’re going to be doing at a gala. I’m sorry sir, I should’ve said something earlier. Soon as they ask me to dance it’ll be-”

“I’ll teach ya.”

Oh.

Well that’s not what you were expecting him to say. You’d shown up at his office, expecting him to scold you for keeping something so childish from him and the team, and that plans would have to be changed. You were certainly not expecting your Captain to offer you private dance lessons.

“What?”

“Can’t say I know ‘em all. An’ I’m certainly rusty, but I could show you how to waltz at the least. Tha’s probably the one those muppets will know.” John runs his hand through the scruff of his beard, thinking it over. If that truly is your biggest concern, he’ll stay awake all night watching dance instructor videos to put your worries at ease. “Again, that’s only if you’re comfortable with…”

“I guess that could work. I don’t need to look like a professional or anything, I just don’t want to blow our cover by stepping on anyone’s toes, literally.” You agree with him, finding a satisfied smile working its way onto his face at your words.

“Is that what had you so worried, sweet girl?” Now he really shouldn’t be calling you names like that, but when it’s this easy for him to solve your problems, this easy to erase the worry from your face and replace it with a smile, well forgive him but he just can’t help himself sometimes.

“Hey! It was a valid concern, okay?” You throw back at him, sitting up straighter in your seat as well, returning to the usual playful banter the two of you usually partake in during these rare moments alone. He chuckles at you, unable to hide his contentment with your quick switch in moods.

“You’re absolutely right. Never doubted you.” He tells you, gazing at your own content visage now.

“So how do we start this?”

“Hm?”

“The dancing? How should we-?”

“Oh, yes. Right. Well um, do you at least know how to position yourself for a waltz?” He slowly rises from his chair, readjusting the tuck of his shirt into his pants, watching as you spring up to your feet as well. He comes around the desk to stand closer to you, perhaps only now realizing the situation he’s put himself into. If he’s going to teach you to dance, he’s going to have to be closer to you than he ever has before. He swallows hard, coming closer to you.

“I mean, I think we hold hands and my other one goes somewhere up here?” You stick one arm out to the side, the other lifting up as if to mimic holding his shoulder.

“S’about right.” He finally steps closer enough that the two of you are only about a foot apart, close enough proximity that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his eyes. He takes your smaller hand, placing onto his shoulder with a delicacy you’ve never experienced before. Your breath hitches momentarily, and you hope he doesn’t notice. His other hand is reach out to fix your straight elbow, bending it slightly, sliding his digits along the soft skin of your inner forearm, before his palm meets your own, clasping it firmly.

“Your hands’ll go there like that. Good. And my other hand goes, uh-” he finds himself hesitating for a split second. The stoic military Captain, temporarily mortified at the prospect of putting his hand on your delicate waist. But apparently this is what the job asks of him right now, and so he painstakingly slowly inches his large grasp onto your side. Now you’re certain there’s no way he doesn’t hear your tiny gasp at the feeling of his hands on you like this.

“Every waltz has a leader and a follower.” He informs you after clearing his throat.

“I can assume which position you’ll take, Captain.” You murmur, attempting to bring some lightheartedness back into what has seemingly turned into a tense, heated exchange. He offers you as sincere of a chuckle as he can offer, but now he’s thinking about you, and the word positions, and he’s quickly losing focus of the task at hand.

“Aye, I’ll take the lead, yes.” He confirms your suspicion, squeezing your hand in his. “Now, if ya wanna just look at your feet for this part, tha’s alright. You’re goin’ to want to follow my steps…” He leads you through the first movements, taking a step back, directing you to follow with your own step forward, telling you how you should be landing on your foot. He introduces you to the concept of a 3-count tempo, slowing his instructions down when he can tell you’re not following. Next he’s adding a basic turn to the dance, watching as your face slowly begins to light up, realizing you’re not half as bad at this whole dancing thing as you thought, especially with an attentive teacher like Price teaching you.

Over the next hour and a half, you and Price are shoving the furniture in his office up against the walls, creating a makeshift dance space in the middle for the two of you. In actuality, you’d learned the movements well enough within the first half hour, and it could have been left at that. But in spite of that fact, as well as the increasingly late hour, there was an unspoken understanding between you and John. That neither of you were willing to part ways yet. Hell, you were actually having genuine, pure fun for once, you certainly weren’t going to stop to go to bed.

Especially not when that fun included your handsome Captain holding you in his muscular arms, spinning you around and smirking every time he forced a laugh out of you. Especially not when the position for a waltz somehow shifted into both your arms being looped around John’s neck, his own wide palms now on both sides of your waist, situated a little too low to technically be appropriate, and the space existing between your two bodies has become non-existent.

Certainly not when your soft swaying around the room, gazing into each other’s eyes with soft satisfied smiles upon your faces, morphs into standing still, squeezing one another a little more firmly, and hot breaths meeting in the middle.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, letting him hold you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. What you are sure of, is that when your faces both slowly find themselves leaning in towards another, and your forehead meets his own, he must see something in your eyes that tells him everything he needs to know. Because the next thing you know, just as you’re whispering his name, your captain lets out a soft groan before both his palms are holding your face and brings your lips to meet his own.

Part 2

#call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty #john price x y/n #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #readwritealldayallnight #captain price fluff #john price fluff

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shuastar · 8 days ago

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ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ (JWW)

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴄ: 8.2k (swear it doesnt get any shorter....) ᴀ/ɴ: ᴏᴍɢ ɪ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴀɢᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ㅠㅠ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ 1ꜱᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ (ʟᴏɴɢ) ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ,,, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ᴘʟꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ <3 ꜱᴏ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ; ɴᴇxᴛ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2)

The honeyed spring air only proved to prod at your deep, growing, carnal fury at the scene in front of you. The wooden stilts of your fan dug further and further into the expensive lace of your thin sheer gloves, leaving bright red lines in its wake. As you stared at the traitorous scene in front of you, you felt as if your entire being was thrown into a wall.

You should’ve known, really, that it was going to end like this. You should’ve known when the greasy money-tainted rat of your soon-to-be ex-fiance crawled out of his cave and to the royal palace, rubbing his hands together in faux prayer as he asked about your dowry. You were sure Seungcheol told him too – all fifteen million won of it. You could imagine how Lord Paree’s eyes would have seen the backs of his skull at the number — how he probably left the gilded royal palace in sheer bliss at the thought of receiving the monetary sum of three city estates just for a single marriage. Maggot, you thought, nails almost digging through the lace. Money-drunken parasite.

A high-pitched dolphin giggle and a snap! of a fan slapped you out of your red-seeing stupor.

Right. Yes.

Dealing with (yet another) failed engagement was more important than the consequences that would follow. You could almost hear the concerned jabberings of Seungcheol, fur-wrapped on his stupid golden throne in the palace, as you stood in front of him.

“Your highness, you aren’t married either,” you would point out, like you always do.

Seungcheol would sigh and pout, “I know, y/n. That seems to be the problem.” Then, he would scan you up and down before clapping, jumping out of his throne and meandering his way down to where you were standing with a grin. “What kind of guardian,” he offered you his arm as he led you out of the throne room, “would I be if I got married before I saw you get married?” He pinched your cheek lightly, letting out a loud laugh at your severely disgruntled expression. “Don’t you agree, Duchess Park?”

You would close your eyes with a long sigh, pretending like this conversation wasn’t one of Seungcheol’s only topics of interest since her debut into Society. “Of course, your highness,” you would mumble, muttering a few more colorful adjectives under your breath as you were led unwillingly to your fifth courtship date request of the month.

If you knew then that your fourth engagement – in one and a half years, mind you – would end up shattered shambles yet again, you wouldn’t have even let Seungcheol drag you to the royal garden’s mezzanine for afternoon tea with that bastard in the first place.

Really, you weren’t quite sure whether you were more angry at the fact that the idle-headed useless block of skin tissue or at the all gracious, ever-knowing royal highness for setting you two up together in a future cheating scandal. That was true. Yet fucking again.

You were so tired of snatching the tea pot off of the wire-frame tables and throwing it at the girl (like it was the poor lady’s fault) before bitch-slapping your ex fiance with as much malice as you could muster at the time. Genuinely. You were so sick of walking into the next ball with no one by your side, save your secretary and personal guard, yet again. You were going to throw up if you heard your name with the words cheating, scandal, and shame in a Society gathering again. But most importantly, you were so sick of the look he would give you from across the ballroom and during your dances.

“I heard about you and Lord Paree.”

A step into a waltz.

“So has the rest of the fucking country, apparently.”

A stifled cough let out due to your unexpectedly colorful language.

“I wouldn’t say the entire nation, y/n.”

“Hm, I fear I will have to disagree, your grace, as I heard even Duke Hong’s footmen murmur among themselves regarding my unfortunate turn of events.”

A falter in his soft smile.

“Forget him. I’ve always thought of him as an undeserving bastard anyways.”

You laugh, head thrown back – the most joyous you have been since last week.

“Shall I be glad that you’ve thought so, your grace?”

Wonwoo shrugs, twirling you around in tight circles. You feel almost lightheaded from his cologne, mingling in with the gentle puffs of breath from the waltz.

“Think of it however you want,” he hums, dipping you ever so slightly against the sudden base of the cello. You swallow a surprised gasp as his hand, originally on your upper back, dips dangerously low – for a moment, sitting gently against the hem of your corset.

The two of you come to a halt near the edge of the ballroom floor. You hate how you can feel a flush coming on the apples of your cheeks the longer Wonwoo stares at you, an odd mixture of pity and something else swimming in his eyes behind the metal-frame glasses.

You bow, one hand on your chest. You know you don’t have to – he is of the same societal position as you. You know you don’t have to, but it feels almost second nature to go low into a curtsy of some kind in front of a man.

“Thank you, your grace, for this dance,” you murmur, lifting your head back up. Wonwoo stays quiet for a good moment, before he blinks.

“Find yourself another date for your second dance, yes? Someone better than that cheating bastard,” he hums. You think he’s about to reach for your gloved hand but his hands stay at his side – the only indicator of movement a slight twitch in his fingers. You force down your disappointment.

Instead, you smile. There is nothing else for you to do, anyways. Seungcheol, although good of heart, would have another engagement for you lined up in no time. And with that, you would need to forget. Forgive and forget. You realize you’ve spent too much time in front of the Archduke’s son when you feel the presence of your guard behind you.

“I will see you soon,” you greet, before you turn and leave. If you had stayed to hear his response, you feel like you would have stayed with Wonwoo for the entire night. And that was not very ladylike.

Wonwoo

“Wonwoo, one day you’re going to have to live for something else.”

Seungcheol’s breaths came out in heaving pants as the two took a brief break from their sparring session in the royal palace’s courtyard.

Wonwoo just raised a brow, wiping sweat off of his brow with his discarded shirt. “What do you mean by that, your majesty?”

Seungcheol waved away the title. “Drop the pretense, friend. What I mean is,” Seungcheol dropped his empty water jug on the wooden bench, before bringing his sword up to his face, “one day you’re gonna realize you have more to live for than just this.” Seungcheol gestured vaguely towards the desolate sparring grounds.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, brushing dusts of sand off of his glinting blade. His fingers flexed on the leather grip. “I don’t live for just this, Coups. I know my responsibilities more than you think I do,” he sighed.

Seungcheol raised a questioning brow, stepping back into the sparring grounds with a twirl of his sword. “You sure?” his voice echoed, which was followed by unfamiliar click-clacks of a woman’s heels. Seungcheol cocked his head and grinned, canines showing, as he squatted down low, flicking his fingers at Wonwoo. “Then why are you asking to go out to fight? You might die.”

Wonwoo cracked his neck before running at the young king, Their swords clashed in the middle of the sparring grounds, flickers of their manas bursting outwards. Smoky tendrils of black gravitated and fogged the ground near Wonwoo’s feet, curling themselves around his chest and slowly inching up his neck, before blending in with his hair.

Wonwoo grunted in exertion, pushing Seungcheol back with the help of his mana. The king slammed into the back wall before landing back on his feet. Wonwoo stood over him, panting. Sweat dripped down his temples and his mana curled itself around his bare arms, against the contours of the muscles that laid there.

“It is the only thing I am good for,” Wonwoo stated. His words came out soft, almost a whisper, as his hand stretched out towards Seungcheol.

Seungcheol took a second more in his position, staring into Wonwoo’s despairing eyes. The dark browns looked more conflicted than Seungcheol had ever known. His own eyes darted towards the figure that stood in the opening archway of the courtyard. He could barely make out the face, under the layers of shadows, but he knew. He had called her here anyway. Not here as in the courtyard but here as in the palace. It was though, of course, purely coincidental that she had walked to the courtyard of her own volition.

Seungcheol grasped Wonwoo’s hand, hauling himself off of the sandy ground.

“You’re willing to leave your duchy? Your Society life?” Seungcheol stood in front of Wonwoo with his sword at his side. He gave the young archduke a knowing look. “Even the duchess?”

Wonwoo stiffened at Seungcheol’s ending words, his hand stilling, hovering the tip of his sword at the entrance of its sheath. He swallowed. The sword dropped with a loud CLANG into its home in the sheath. He looked up at the king, who looked almost expectant.

“Yes,” was his answer. He straightened, brushing sweaty strands of his black hair out of his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

Before Seungcheol, with furrowed brows and disappointment flurrying in his eyes, could open his mouth, a quiet scoff rang out, ripping the silence between the two men into shreds.

Wonwoo’s head snapped to the archway where the sound had echoed from, fingers curling around the grip of his sword. His other arm pushed Seungcheol behind him, which earned him a noise of protest from the older man.

“Won-”

“There’s someone there,” was what Wonwoo said, before he stepped closer, into the shadows of the archway. The face that met him left him unable to breathe – as if his lungs had been squeezed out of oxygen from the inside; as if his entire being was wringed; as if someone had, one by one, cut the tendons of his muscles, rendering him absolutely useless.

“I have been delusioned,” a cold, shaking voice started, “of our relationship, your grace.” You bowed deeply, silken hair falling over your shoulders, petals of the flowers in your hair dancing in the soft breeze, hand tight-fisted on your chest. “I ask for your apology in my,” a deafening pause, “assuming nature.”

BANG

The sword fell out of Wonwoo’s limp hand. He rushed forward, almost tripping over his own feet and forgetting his look of indecency, leaving Seungcheol long forgotten in the edges of the sparring grounds.

“Y/n,” he breathed, hands gently holding your upper arms. “Y/n, you misunderstand,” he hurried, forcing you to stand properly. The sight afterwards almost made him wish he let you stay in your bow.

Your crystalline eyes were glassy and he could make out the glistening pools of unshed tears that poked against your charcoal waterline. Your lips stretched thin over your teeth in an attempt at a reassuring smile. But he knew you better than that – he knew more than half of the emotions that swirled behind your watery eyes and he knew what the tremblings of the corners of your lips meant. What it meant for you, for him, for the two of you.

You shook your head, shuffling back against the rough grounds. A small laugh escaped your mouth. Your glossy pink lips curled up in a practiced smile – too robotic, too mirror-practiced, too Society for him to comprehend. It sent his mind reeling. It sent his mind reeling because you had heard what he shouldn’t have said. Because he was so used to seeing your dimpled smile in his embrace.

“No,” you responded, pushing his hands off of your lace-covered arms with trembling fingers. Your touch was soft but firm – a boundary that was unfamiliar in his realm. “I apologize for intruding, your grace, your highness,” another bow – this time at Seungcheol, who just waved her off from his position picking up the strewn wooden swords, “I will take my leave now.”

A noncommittal noise rose from the back of Wonwoo’s throat and his hand wrapped around your wrist habitually, only to be shaken off without a single backwards look and a shuddering sigh as you walked away, head held high and hands shaking by your side.

Wonwoo wasn’t stupid. He knew when to take a hint.

“I’m not sure if you started a problem or made an existing problem worse.”

Wonwoo shot a glare towards Seungcheol. “Thank you for your wise words, your highness. They are so helpful in my current situation,” he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Seungcheol sighed, shrugging as he dumped the wooden swords inside of a crate. “Look at it this way,” he pointed out, “now you are free to go do your battling. Without any ties.”

Seungcheol handed Wonwoo his discarded sword, eyebrows raised.

“Right?”

Wonwoo gave him no answer, only staring at your shadowed retreating form that walked now in the sunlight past the archway. He only stared as you, with a curt nod to a footman, entered the main palace halls again.

“Wonwoo?” Seungcheol repeated. “You there?”

Wonwoo blindly nodded, fidgeting with the loose ends of his sheath. “Yes. Yes, maybe,” was his vague answer, mumbled softly under his breath. And all through Seungcheol’s next set of rants about Society politics and the ongoing problems around the Northern border of Obella, the only thing Wonwoo could think of was the alien tightening of his chest – so much so that his lungs felt off and his heart hurt to breathe.

Wonwoo was sick and tired of the stench of blood and rusting iron. He was sick and tired of the habitual curl of his fingers around the hilt of his battle-worn sword at every small crack in the woods. And he was sick and tired of being away – away from the Capitol, away from his duchy, away from her.

So when, one morning, his best friend and commanding officer Soonyoung, came into his tent with a cream-colored envelope with a familiar crest stamped on the front, it felt like a weight had lifted off of his shoulders.

His tent flap fluttered as a head of blonde ducked in Wonwoo’s sleep tent.

“Guess what a little birdie flew in with this pleasantly fine morning?” Soonyoung grinned, leaning against one of the poles of the tent, arms crossed.

Wonwoo looked up from his place sitting on his chair, sharpening his sword. His glasses hung low on his nose and his naked back rippled with aching muscles. He deadpanned, recognizing the crest as the royal crest. “What?” he hummed, standing up and setting his sword and whetting stone down. “Another commission from our dear king?” he scoffed, unwilling bitterness seeping into his words.

Of course, he did not blame King Seungcheol for his current predicament. Actually, he did, just a little bit. But of course, not all of the situation. Around three fifths was because of himself – because he was greedy and ambitious and begged to be sent to the National Academy and rose to the top of his Weapons class. It was his fault, was what he told himself, that he was on his third year out in the battlefields in the north, fighting the royal battles for a king that presented himself to be one of Wonwoo’s closest friends. Of course an inconspicuous bitterness would form.

Hoshi laughed, his own bare torso glinting in the early morning sunlight. He handed Wonwoo the letter. “Oh, you wish, Wonwoo,” Hoshi said, clapping his friend on the back. He squeezed as Wonwoo’s eyes skimmed over its contents. He could almost feel Hoshi’s smile from behind him.

“Congratulations, my friend,” Hoshi laughed, “You have officially been reinvited to Society!”

Wonwoo’s face crumpled into an off mixture of disappointment, relief, and boredom. Society? That was what Seungcheol was pulling him out of these battles for? Out of everything, Society?

“Society?” he scoffed. The hollow, fakeness of The Capitol’s Society was what awaited him outside of the violent woods? His fingers tightened on the thick parchment.

The fact that it was Society wasn’t the aspect that pissed him off down to his bones. It was the fact that Seungcheol knew why he gave up Society to begin with.

Suddenly, Hoshi’s squinted eyes filled Wonwoo’s vision. His blonde-bleached eyebrows were furrowed on his face. “Why do I feel like you’re not happy to be going back?”

Wonwoo let out a deep sigh, his eyes closing ever so slightly. His chest felt tight. “Because, Hoshi,” he grumbled, ripping up the letter and tossing it into his lantern flame, “I fucking hate Society.”

Wonwoo watched as the tattered pieces of the ripped parchment crumble into the orange-red flames. It was his fault, he guessed. Going back to Society, to the Capitol, was something he knew he had to face, once his reign among the knights was over. Three years, even for a man like him, was a long time to not show your face even once in a public Society event. He guessed this was Seungcheol’s passive reminder: get to your duties. He could almost hear it in his head.

Hoshi shook his head in faux disappointment, tsking. “Thought you knew better than that, Archduke Jeon. You nobility need to perform part of your duties, after all.” Hoshi’s grin makes Wonwoo’s lips stretch into a slight smile. “What? Has the battlefield ridden you of your noble blood, your grace?” Hoshi asked with an eyebrow raise.

Wonwoo just shook his head with a small smile and a sigh. But he couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being called an archduke. Being called your grace. Those were titles he was used to seeing his father carry – his father, who was a charismatic ruler, his father, who loved deeply and truly, and his father, who lay cold and lifeless in the Jeon Family cemetery next to his mother for two years.

Hoshi was not wrong, he knew. He knew there would be a time he would have to return to the very thing he hated the most about staying in the Capitol, about being a noble; whether or not he returned by his own volition was the question. And apparently Seungcheol had deemed three years, three years too much. The churning in his stomach could not be described as anything else but uncertainty.

As Hoshi talked animatedly, with flailing arms, about the night before, when the soldiers had broken out crates of rum and beer to celebrate the strengthening of the Northern borders from the “evil spirits,” as they had called them, Wonwoo stared into the crackling lantern flame. If he returned to Society, as per the royal decree and as per his friend’s request, he would have to face the portraits that hung on his Capitol estate’s portrait hall. He would have to walk through the halls of his own home that had once been full of deeper, older, wiser, laughter of his parents without them. He would have to face the claustrophobia-inducing, over crowded ballrooms of the private high society gatherings, attend meaningless hunting outings, and present himself to the greater nobility public like some sort of relic or trophy to be garnished with wreaths and golden medals of bravery after the three year battle.

But, of course, that was not all of the Society he had left behind. He had left behind a deeper, lovelier Society as well. Something – someone, he should say – that if he had any say in, he would keep hidden in the deepest parts of his heart. Someone, if he returned, who would – no, could – never be his again. She was not someone who waited around – especially if they had left like he did.

But perhaps…

No.

No, no, no.

He shook his head.

He could not bring his hopes up for nothing. He had a duty – to his duchy, to his family, to the legacy his father left behind, and to his country.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Wonwoo mumbles. Mostly to himself, yet Hoshi quietens in his rant at his friend’s words.

Hoshi drags a wooden chair over, swinging his legs around it to sit – chest against its back. “For Society or…” Hoshi does not need to finish his question for Wonwoo to understand. It is implied, as it always had been between the two of them.

Wonwoo sighed, burying his head in his hands. The balls of his palm rub into his battle-weary eyes. “For everything. My responsibilities, Society, the entry celebrations, and…” Now Wonwoo poses the discarded ending. Hoshi knows, he decides for himself. He knows already. Wonwoo could tell from his knowing glance out the tent flap.

“You’ve had responsibilities out on the battlefield, Woo. I believe your archducal duties are of a similar hierarchy?” Hoshi twirled a quill in his hand. The commander veers out of the way of the silent topic with a quick glance that promises Wonwoo another conversation – preferably over a glass of wine – in another time.

Wonwoo let out a tired laugh. “You jest. I fear my archducal duties far outrank the simple hierarchy of my responsibilities on the battlefield.”

Hoshi shrugged. “It is what you believe, sir.”

“It is what I believe,” Wonwoo murmured to himself. A hand slid down his face as he slouched down in his chair, a tired sigh escaping the battle-worn caverns of his lungs. “Fuck.”

One of King Seungcheol’s infamous re-entry balls was decided to be held in honor of Archduke Jeon returning to the Capitol, signifying his re-entrance into Society’s cluster of feathers and prim-propers from his years in the battlefields.

“Do you know how uncomfortable wearing this cape is?” Wonwoo complains for the fourth time, tugging at the golden lapels that hold the thick fabric to his shoulders. He huffs in apparent annoyance as the golden tips of the royal palace’s towers loom overhead when the carriage rattles to a slow trot and then a stop.

Hoshi, from his seat across Wonwoo, rolls his eyes, his own body decorated with the uniform of the royal knights, and a long gleaming sword hanging off of his hip. “Oh boo hoo,” he mutters, stepping out of the carriage as soon as the door opens. He dusts his white pants with a concluding groan as Wonwoo mutters something under his breath.

“What?” Wonwoo snaps, “When has it changed so that a man cannot simply complain about his uncomfortable and ill-fit dressings for a ball?” Wonwoo retorts. A strand of hair fell in his face as he crossed his arms. His tight military uniform – decorated diligently with captain stars, rings of honor, and golden medals of bravery – strains against his biceps. He stands next to Hoshi, adjusting his formal tie with a displeased wince of discomfort. “I would have much rather preferred-”

“-Wonwoo!” Hoshi interjects, a rough hand coming down harshly against Wonwoo’s back. One look in Hoshi’s eyes and Wonwoo hesitates to finish his sentence. “My friend, please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up. You look fine,” Hoshi groaned, walking up to the palace doors with Wonwoo in tow. “You should have expected this anyways,” he continues, giving a curt nod to the footmen that open the doors, “This is a ball held in your honor,” a familiar turn into a wider hallway, “Remember?” Hoshi’s neat uniform is pin-straight as he walks down the marbled halls. “And we’re already late. Do you want to get passive aggressively eaten alive by Society the first day back in noble action?” he throws Wonwoo’s way with a quick glance over his shoulder with a teasing grin.

Wonwoo sighs, following Hoshi through the gilded halls of the too-familiar palace. He could almost picture his younger self – five years old – running through the very halls, with Prince Mingyu and (then) Prince Seungcheol hot on his heels, all three of them giggling about something for another. He could picture the two of them, laughing – him with his head thrown back and her with her fan over her pretty pink lips – during the boring parts of each and every palace ball. The gilded palace was gilded – but not just in gold.

y/n

You were very confused.

And confusion never was something any noble wanted during a ball, nevermind the King’s re-entry ball, no matter how close your family’s ties ran.

Of course, you were not confused about who it was for. It was obvious. The Capitol’s newspapers (and most likely every other newspaper business in the nation), had spent the entire past week dedicating their front covers to the headlines that included, but were not limited to, one of the five following words: Archduke, Jeon, Return, Battle, Ball.

It was as if the entirety of noble society had decided to come together for this one re-entry event, which apparently had people jittery at the edges of their seats because the most eligible bachelor of any season, really, was back on the market. The one high noble who could pay off even the most expensive dowries, who could save a breaking family from complete, utter, desolate ruin, whose dark hooded eyes had enticed so many of the daughters from the highest noble classes, was back. He, on orders and grounds unknown, was returning from his three-year-long disappearance from Society and out into the vicious battlefields of the north.

And you were absolutely, jaw-droppingly so confused as to why both King Seungcheol and Prince Mingyu (mostly Seungcheol, though Mingyu posed no help), held you (almost) hostage at their sides, rambling and fluttering on about how you should stay with them until the entrance of the “main character.”

“Your highness, may I ask why?” you ask. Behind your proprietary fan covering the bottom half of your face, your lips curl in distaste. If it was wholly up to you, you would have been in a silken nightgown, getting ready for bed.

“Is brother still holding you here against your will?” Prince Mingyu’s laughing voice reaches your ears. You turn, meeting his broad frame. His one-shoulder cape glints at the top with a pure-gold cap, in dazzling contrast with his cream-white suit. In his hands are two flutes of bubbling champagne. He outstretches his arm, tipping one flute towards you with a grin, canines pushing down against his bottom lip. “For you, my lady,” he teases, slipping the flute into your gloved fingers. He gives you a cheesy wink, before breaking into a dimpled smile.

You roll your eyes, habituated with the prince’s oftentimes off-handed flirty remarks. “You ask that as if you have not been doing the exact same thing, your highness,” you huff, but you don’t reject the champagne flute, taking a sip of the bubbling liquid with a satisfied sigh. You clear your throat before turning to both Mingyu and Seungcheol, who is surveying the crowd. “Now I ask the both of you the same question.”

Mingyu throws an arm around Seungcheol, who stands still, staring at the entrance door to the ballroom with an impatient-tapping foot. “You know why.” He leans his head against Seungcheol, lightly stepping on his older brother’s furious foot with a mutter of maintaining a mask of patience. Seungcheol responds with a simple furrow of his thick eyebrows.

You tilt your head. Mingyu’s lack-luster responses and Seungcheol’s decision to blatantly ignore your words are doing absolutely nothing to quell your curiosity, let alone your confusion.

Usually, if this was like any other royal-hosted ball, Seungcheol would only keep you for a brief moment. That would frequently consist of introductions to any new or unfamiliar royal cabinet members. And then, he would let you go, which usually meant, for you, going to the closest empty table with a chair and sitting down for the rest of the night. At least until you deemed you had spent enough time brooding in peace in your despairing corner, that it was respectable enough towards both you and the royal family, to leave the ball and return to your estate.

Of course, you were not unapproachable. You were born and raised in Society. One of the first classes you remember taking with your grandmother was ballroom dance. Before (or many times during) your brooding solitary peace, either Mingyu, Seungcheol, or Duke Hong would leisurely make their way towards you and offer you your dance of the night.

Those times, when the familiar strings of the orchestra and the notes of the hired singer flowed through the crowded ballroom, you let yourself be guided. After all, it was your job.

“The lady is always supposed to be guided,” your grandmother used to say, “If a man, especially of high standing, does not guide a lady through a simple waltz, he is not a man. He is a coward not ready to face even the simplest of pleasures.”

“Save your first dance, y/n,” Seungcheol suddenly says, turning to her. His words seem oddly like an order, and you would not put it below him for it to actually be an order. His grin matches his younger brother’s. The furs of his dress stick out against his dark hair. And his entire being seems that much more irking in your eyes.

If he has another fucking suitor lined up already, I’ll kill him. To hell with the monarchy.

From next to him, Mingyu chuckles, as if he (they) knew something you did not. Which is usually the case, actually. You need to stop being so surprised.

“Why?” Your nose scrunches. Your fan is forgotten at your sides.

Seungcheol sighs, shaking his head slowly like you’re some under-developed child who could not get the full picture. “You’ll see.”

You snap your fan shut, crossing your arms. “Sometime soon, I hope?” A jolt of pain waves over your ankle, a testament to how long you’ve been standing in one place. You force down your wince.

Mingyu pokes your puffed cheeks with his white-gloved hand and a laugh. “Impatient much, duchess?”

You swat away his hand with a glance. Your head swivels as you say, “I have been waiting with much patience, thank you very much.” A lick of annoyance flickers in you when you catch at least seven pairs of eyes and gossiping mouths staring at you and the royal brothers. “It seems as though the Archduke is late,” you add, glancing at the giant clock on top of the entrance doorway.

Mingyu, now arm over your shoulder, tugs at your dress sleeves. “Awfully interested, aren’t you?” he grinned, a small bout of laughter ensuing at your barely concealed tick of anger. Not only at his words but also at his careless touches. He should be glad all of high society knew of your close family relations, or else his actions would have had dire consequences.

You push him away lightly, flicking your fan open again as you gently fan yourself, covering your mouth. “Awfully not, your highness,” you snap. Mingyu knew not to talk about that. You try to ignore the fact that the wound you had once thought was fully stitched up and closed, still hurts when poked. “If I can-”

BANG

“ANNOUNCING ARCHDUKE JEON AND THE COMMANDER OF THE ROYAL KNIGHTS, SIR KWON!” The herald’s voice echoed through the ballroom.

It was as if the entire ballroom was on a brief pause – the gossiping groups of ladies, the loud laughter of the business men, the rolling children, and even the orchestra. The violinists, cellists, and singer all paused, craning their heads to see through the throng of people who awaited the arrival of the main character – the battle-won most eligible bachelor of all the seasons: Archduke Jeon Wonwoo.

And all you wanted to do was to never see his face again.

And of course you prepared yourself. You prepared yourself the moment you had received Seungcheol’s and Mingyu’s separate request letters of your presence at tonight’s ball as part of the royal cabinet. You prepared yourself throughout the time Nai, your maid, rubbed oils into your skin, braided and twisted your silken hair, and pulled your corset tight against your straining ribs. Yet nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the real thing. The thing that was not born out of your imagination that had severely overworked itself over three years.

Because not only does Wonwoo look the part of the most eligible bachelor, he looks the part of a successful military commander, with his dark military uniform, draping cape, and glinting golden medals. It feels as if the entire ballroom moves towards him, like he has his own gravitational force, as if everyone is attracted to something in the man. You can already see the cliques of the younger ladies fan themselves lightly as their eyes glaze over his wide shoulders and chiseled face. The military uniform does nothing to hide his physique.

Your fan slowly rises to your face.

Your corset feels especially restricting when you see Wonwoo’s sharp eyes scan the ballroom. If this were any other situation, you would find the way Wonwoo leans down briefly to Soonyoung to whisper something with a confused furrow and Soonyoung breaking out into a shit-eating grin and tossing a wink towards the general crowd, exponentially more amusing. That had more fans fanning quickly towards the ladies’ face.

The entire scene reminded you briefly of when you were seventeen, when you had first been introduced to Society, standing almost in the same position as you were currently – next to the two princes who flanked you protectively with crossed arms – and Soongyoung, who was fresh into the Corps of Royal Knights then, and Wonwoo, who had just graduated from the National Academy, striding into your debutante ball late. The small waves and winks Soonyoung sends now towards the various gaggle of young, single ladies of Society reminds you, rather nostalgically, of when you, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Mingyu had all spread out in Mingyu’s foyer on a wintry December day, and all you had talked about were the numerous engagement offers Soonyoung was getting from noble families.

“What is this? Your thirteenth?” Seungcheol huffed, looking up briefly from Mingyu’s wide oak desk. He dropped his quill in the golden holder. “You’re gonna take away all the ladies from us at this rate, friend,” he laughed.

You missed, in a small part of your heart, the times when Seungcheol had not been pressed to marry, find his match, continue the legacy. Now, his smile never crinkled his eyes when breeching on the topic of marriage and engagements.

Soonyoung shrugged, legs dangling off of the couch’s arm rest as he flipped through a newspaper from last week. “Don’t know. You can have all of them, if you want, Coups,” he says, looking up from the tiny print. He gives a sideways look towards Mingyu. “And you too. Don’t want any of them. Not right now, anyways.”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both grumble about the unfairness of knightly and royal duties as Soonyoung goes off on a separate tangent about the recent addition of a tiger to the park zoo.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Wonwoo and Mingyu exchange an exasperated look. To be honest, you think it’s kind of cute – Soonyoung’s obsession with tigers, that is. It gives the man something childish in him. God knows he’ll need it in the battlefields one day.

Suddenly, from the open window, the winter wind blasts through Mingyu’s parlor, wiping papers off of the low tables and out of your hands.

You shiver, arms crossing around your torso. You rub against your thinly-clothed arms.

“Sorry,” Mingyu apologizes sheepishly, quickly glancing over at you. “Should’ve closed that thing.”

You wave him off, about to say something, when suddenly, a thick fabric is draped over your bare shoulders. You flinch at the sudden contact on your skin. From in front of you, Soonyoung’s eyes are wide, which looks rather comical when you see it in his entire position – upside down, legs spread around the backrest, black hair flapping.

“I told you to close it.” Wonwoo’s tone is almost chastising as he moves from behind you to back to his original spot next to you. He gives Mingyu an almost-glare that has the prince sheepishly standing. Wonwoo picks up his book again, shaking his head ever so slightly.

Mingyu gives Seungcheol a passive look before he sits down as well, eyeing the coat around your shoulders.

One quick glance down at the lapel, and you find what you were looking for. The Jeon Duchy’s coat of arms glints up at you, the house crest shining proudly under the chandelier lights. Your cheeks heat when you recognize the expensive cologne that fills your nose. When you turn towards Wonwoo, he’s back in his book, absorbed, apparently, in the tiny printed words on the page. Your previously scattered papers are neat on the table in front of you.

Wonwoo suddenly looks up from his book, catching your zoned-out stare.

Your eyes widen.

Wonwoo just gives you a small smile, before leaning forward and grabbing your papers. He lays his book face-down on his lap. “Do you need a quill?” he asks, handing you your papers.

He catches you so off guard (as if you were only staring at his face, not listening to what he was saying), that you almost stumble over your own tongue trying to respond casually.

“Er- Um- I mean, no. No, no, that’s fine,” you mumble, snatching the papers from his hand and scooting towards the other side of the long couch. “Thank you, though.”

It feels like Wonwoo’s smile grows at your words. If you looked a little bit closer, you would have seen the tips of his ears turn a blush red when you glance down, fiddling with the academic medals on his lapel.

“Anything for you,” he breathes, like it's a secret shared between you two.

Mingyu and Soonyoung stare at the whole interaction with a mixture of forced disgust, confusion, and awkwardness, and you don’t miss how Soonyoung pretends to gag, Mingyu following suit, before the two of them go back to their lengthy tangents.

From next to you, you miss Mingyu’s quick glance down at your movements and the knowing glance he and Seungcheol share.

Whispers break out as the two men – vastly different in the charismas they exude – stride towards the two royal family members.

And you realize they are heading towards you before you remember you are standing with the royal brothers. And everything suddenly clicks into place. Why the two, more Seungcheol than Mingyu, wanted you to stay for so long – until the “main character arrives.” There is a bubbling pot of the sudden innate need to whack the king over the head with your fan. But of course. That would be terribly unladylike. Nothing a woman in your station should be doing, let alone thinking about doing.

And it seems as if Wonwoo is as surprised at your presence on the royal platform because his dark eyes widen behind his glasses as he and Soonyoung stop in front of the raised platform you, Mingyu, and Seungcheol were standing on.

You feel horribly awkward. And Soonyoung’s gaze flitting between you and Wonwoo before bowing his head, trying to conceal his laughter, is doing nothing to make the situation better.

Seungcheol throws his arms out at the same time Wonwoo drops into a one-knee bow, Soonyoung in tow moments later behind him. At his sudden show of veneration, the crowd gasps softly and you shuffle backwards, only to hit Mingyu’s broad chest that blocks you from leaving the platform. You swallow.

You need to get off this stupid fucking platform.

But when you open and shut your fan, looking back at Mingyu, he seems awfully interested in exchanging eye contact with the ballroom’s chandelier. You know he heard your fan shut. The same, familiar spike of rage bubbles in your chest.

These fucking brothers.

“Success to your highness and peace to the nation.” Wonwoo’s deep voice, the one you had tried so desperately to forget, to lose in your discarded memories, to rip apart to shreds and feed to the dogs, echoes out against the quiet ballroom. If you strain your ears, you can hear, though, the stuttered gasps of the younger ladies and chaperones, on the verge of swooning at his first nine words. Resentfully, your brain conjures itself to the years when you were the same – fanning yourself to catch a handsome man’s attention.

You wish you had the courage to laugh. To elegantly step off this damning platform. To get away (run away) from the man in front of the king.

You feel Mingyu moving ever so slightly behind you until you stand perfectly in between him and Seungcheol. Then, in the softest hiss of a whisper he is capable of, he mumbles, “Stay still. You’re sitting with us now.”

You scoff quietly, raising your fan to your left cheek. The tips of the wooden stilts tickle your painted cheek.

From the corners of your eyes, you can see Mingyu pout. “Oh come on, duchess,” he whines. “I’m degraded down to fan talk?” His fingers wrap around your fan, pulling it down.

You’re glad you and Mingyu stand slightly off to the side because you don’t think you would be able to handle any more whisperings of your relationship with the men in your life Society has to cruelly offer.

“You read right? The Archduchies are part of the direct royal council, now.”

That makes you whip your head towards Mingyu’s. He is still facing forward with a practiced smile on his lips and hands in his pockets like this moment was the most relaxing all night.

You, however, probably look slightly insane. Any fan etiquette goes flying out of the ballroom door at Mingyu’s words. You? On the royal council? Of course, on the surface, it is a great honor. You would be the first non-married matriarch to hold some semblance of power in the royal courts. But you could stitch together the gist of how Society would react to this. And based on Mingyu’s decision to tell you this late into Society’s winter season, you could land a (very accurate) educated guess that Seungcheol was going to announce in the next twenty minutes.

“Are you crazy?” You whisper furiously, turning back to face the crowd. You can already see eyes slowly turn to the two of you, noticing your, now, not-so-subtle interaction.

Mingyu just grins, bumping his shoulder with yours. And you don’t even get a chance to hear what he says because Seungcheol suddenly says, “Of course! Of course!” with the most excited tone of voice you had ever heard him use. Apparently Mingyu thinks the same because his head follows yours in staring at Seungcheol. Both of you, but mostly you because Mingyu is still surveying the crowd with a bright, confident, blazing smile that has the ladies of the court drowning in his eyes, are too embarrassed to look confused at what his words mean because you had zoned out of his rather one-sided conversation with Soonyoung and Wonwoo a long time ago.

You can only stand stiffly in your place sandwiched between Seungcheol and Mingyu as both Soonyoung and Wonwoo rise slowly, giving Seungcheol a curt bow before turning to you and Mingyu. Your fan trembles with your hand as Wonwoo steps closer.

You had forgotten how it feels to know nothing of what was to come. Especially when it pertained to him.

Your heart stills momentarily when his eyes land on you, moving up to your face and holding you in your place for a split second. You can’t even describe it. The feeling of seeing him so up close after all these years. After you had promised yourself to forget him. After you had spent hours crying in your bathtub, Nia rubbing your back soothingly. After you had fallen asleep, at least in the first weeks, on top of your duvet, letters he had once sent you crowding half of your bed, fresh tear stains ruining the expensive ink and paper.

He looks so familiar it pulls at some part in your heart that you had thought was buried three years ago at a sparring ground. You observe him as he and Soonyoung pay their respects to Mingyu, who looks a pinch uncomfortable when his friends kneel in front of him.

Black strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes and crowd his forehead. His military cape pulls your attention to his shoulders, which look broader than you remember them to be. And you can’t help but admit that his tight military top does nothing to hide his worked physique. His family crests glints at the connecting junction of his cape and his uniform, and his sheath, hand-crafted as a gift for his seventeenth birthday, holding his sword, rests against his hips. He looks regal, noble, eligible – so much so that it almost shakes the foundations of the walls you had built.

Then he turns to you, those piercing eyes refocusing onto yours that don’t know where to land. His eyes? His lips? His chest? His shoulders? The crowd? A shadow of a smile paints itself onto his lips and you swallow.

Your mouth feels dry.

This can’t be real.

When you had imagined the re-entry ball, meeting Wonwoo, nevermind seeing him so personally, had never once crossed your mind.

Your fan slowly traced its path up to your right ear.

From behind Wonwoo, Soonyoung grins, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling at your fan movement. Your own lips curl up in your practiced way.

For the crowd, you tell yourself.

The entire ballroom seems to watch the two of you in your silence, which was turning more awkward by the second. Wonwoo’s eyes carve a road up and down your figure. It makes your hands clench your fan tightly.

You glance at Seungcheol, who nods, urging you to speak. You let out a small cough, averting your eyes briefly before your smile paints itself onto your lips again. Your fan falls.

“It seems the battlefield has treated you well, Archduke Jeon,” you smiled, opening your arm briefly in a practiced welcome.

It seems as if Wonwoo had not expected you to speak first, and for a second, he stands frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and hands still next to his body. At Soonyoung’s small embarrassed cough, he blinks rapidly, following your smile in suit. Except his looks too genuine, it tugs at your heart strings. And you berate your traitorous heart in wanting to pull him into a warm embrace.

Remember how he left you. He doesn’t want you.

The corners of your lips tremble.

Instead, you feign indifference, lifting your chin.

Wonwoo bows deeply first, followed by Soonyoung. He rises.

“I see Society has welcomed you back with open arms,” he replies, his voice a pinch above a whisper. His small smile offers it as a jest but his words stab a knife into your gut. He has absolutely no right in jesting about your failed engagements. Not after everything.

From behind him, you can see Soonyoung pinch his nose bridge, shaking his head ever so slightly, mouthing an apology to you.

Wonwoo’s eyes linger a moment too long on you, before reaching for your hand. Out of pure etiquette that has burned itself into your entire being, you offer him your hand, and his head is bowed, lips hovering mere centimeters over your lacy knuckles before you realize what you are doing. And by then, it’s too late to retract your offered hand.

Wonwoo’s lips meet the back of your hand.

His own gloved fingers hold your hand like you are made out of the most delicate of china, his touch barely-there.

And just as quick his lips are on your hand, it disappears from your skin.

“May tonight bring you as much warmth as your presence brings to it,” he murmurs, so softly that you have to strain your ears to hear it. But it’s there.

Wonwoo rises before you have a chance to process his greeting words that were murmured into your hand. You almost miss the way the tips of his ears are blush-red between strands of his hair.

Before you can say something else, Soonyoung is in front of you, bowing over your outstretched hand, pressing a light, airy kiss. You can feel him grin against your skin.

When he looks up, he has a teasing grin painted on his face, and you have to force yourself to not roll your eyes at how he wiggles his eyebrows up and down.

“Success and love for the Archduchess.” Soonyoung’s words echo across the ballroom, unlike Wonwoo’s.

Too busy retracting your hand from Soonyoung’s grip, you miss the way Wonwoo’s jaw clenches, face hardening at Soonyoung’s words.

: ̗̀➛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ @syluslittlecrows @gaslysainz @meowmeowminnie @luvjichang @peachytokki @nicoleparadas @haneulparadx

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lisired · 8 months ago

Text

whisper

pairing: actor/dad’s best friend!doyoung x actress!reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf!doyoung, cheating, secret love affair, age gap (21+), minor impact play, loads of praise with a hint of degradation, protected and unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap ur willy), oral (f receiving), fingering, non-idol actor!au, yet another special appearance by mark lee, taeyong is mcs dad im sorry.

summary: When you were nineteen, you could only dream of meeting Kim Doyoung in his sheets. Behind his back you watched all the movies he starred in, wanting nothing more than to be the one he touched whenever a sex scene came on. So when the opportunity surfaced four years later after you’re casted together in the same movie, you didn’t hesitate to snag it - even if it meant hiding from his wife, your father, and the public. And even if feelings developed.

word count: 8.9k

a/n: 2/4 of the Temptation series. Feedback is appreciated!

Doyoung was doing what people called, “living the dream.”

More like he did an excellent job at convincing people he was. There was something humorous to you about the article concerning the allegedly perfect life of your co-star. It summed his life up as, “happily married with a child, thriving with a successful career in the entertainment industry, and age having yet to catch up to him.”

You supposed what they said wasn’t entirely false. Thirty-six years into his life, Doyoung was still fairly young. He had a beautiful wife, a beautiful daughter, and loved his job with a passion, but beneath all of that beauty was the ugly he had carefully tucked out of the public’s prying eyes. His marriage was more loveless and affair-filled than the show he put on gave away.

And you were a culprit.

The story was a long one. For you, it started when you were nineteen. That year was a grand one for Doyoung as he was getting booked left to right and it begun his legacy as “the actor with the steamy sex scenes.” You watched every single movie. Scene after scene, you wondered how he made something so hot look so realistic, and imagined being the one under him.

Little did you know, your dreams would come true four years later. When you were asked roughly two years ago to star alongside Kim Doyoung in an upcoming romantic drama by the name of Whisper, you couldn’t deny the opportunity. A part of you feared what your father would think of the role, considering Doyoung was a good friend of his, but you were relieved when he wasn’t bothered. He called it “the beauty of acting.”

It was too bad that everything you felt for Doyoung was unable to be faked. You were far beyond attracted to him, on a level that the public nor your father, should’ve, would’ve, and could’ve ever known.

A knock jerked you from your thoughts. Your father stood by the door, peering in as he announced, “Hey, love. Doyoung’s here.”

Fighting your smile was too hard. Now that you were going to star in a movie together you and Doyoung met up often these days, even though you no longer were in the stage of what he dubbed perfecting your chemistry (but all that ever meant was sneaking away into his sheets.)

It stung to wonder if he slept with all his co-stars. No wonder their sex scenes looked so natural, the emotion had to be raw.

Shoving the thought into the back of your head, you rose from your bed and replied, “Alright. I’ll be back tonight, love you.”

“Love you too, dear. Have fun!”

Doyoung was standing outside the front door when you arrived there. He smiled gently, outstretching his hand kindly and waiting for you to slip your fingers between his, which you did promptly. “Missed me?”

Oh, did you. With the movie being a priority for you both, there was never a large gap in between times that you saw one another, but your new-found attachment to Doyoung made every second seem to drag on. You woke up every morning and couldn’t wait to see him.

You groaned, “You have no idea.”

Doyoung chuckled. He opened the car door for you and once you were seated, leaned into your ear and whispered, “Why don’t you show me how much when we get home?”

There was no confusion on how he managed to persuade you into his sheets. On-screen and off-screen Doyoung was relentlessly sexy, and his voice alone sent shivers down your spine. You loved when he whispered dirty things in your ear like that. It was gentle yet hot, and made your whole body tense with desire.

“Y-yeah,” you murmured in your best attempt at feigning unaffectedness. Actor to actress however, Doyoung could see right through you. He knew you wanted him and it amused him how poor of a job you did at hiding it.

On the way to his house, you tried to think of anything but the surge of arousal between your thighs. What you were meant to be doing was crafting impeccable chemistry. Doyoung was an actor known for his undeniable chemistry with his costars and the raunchy sex scenes that came from them, and you being his best friend’s daughter made you no exception to his streak.

You were to play the role of a mistress of an heir who had his life painted perfectly and was adored by his country. In reality, his marriage was complicated and brittle and he turned to a mistress to relieve himself of the things he couldn’t seek in his wife. It was almost amusing to you that the drama seemed to hit the nail on the head when it came to describing what your relationship had become. You’d be damned if anyone said the acting was anything less than extraordinary - all of the emotion was real.

The car ride came to an abrupt end with your thoughts. Doyoung helped you out of the vehicle and barely let you breathe when you both stepped inside his house. He was pressing you back against the door in a matter of seconds, lips targeting your neck as his fingers worked hungrily to undress you.

“Fuck,” you moaned softly. He was making you impatient. “How much time do we have?”

“The whole day if we wanted. Maya took Daphne to see her grandmother this weekend, and they’ll be gone until Monday morning.”

That sounded like heaven. With the feeling of Doyoung’s body on yours, you were relieved to know that you could savor it longer, without having to race to pleasure. You two had also been working actively on the movie a lot harder than it seemed right now, and these little sexcapades were like much-needed breaks.

As if he could read your mind, Doyoung teased as he slid your shirt down your shoulders, “Bet you like the thought of fucking me all day, huh? You want me all to yourself?”

“Doyoung,” you whimpered.

“Shh, don’t worry, baby,” he crooned, sweeping you into his arms and making a move towards the bedroom, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

It was almost telepathic. There was a mutual understanding between you both that went beyond sex, and that was how you landed yourself in this predicament in the first place; you understood his needs, he understood yours.

“I missed you, too,” Doyoung announced quietly as he pushed your panties to the side, helping himself to your pussy. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

You replied in the midst of a moan, “Thinking about me?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed and leaned closer to your ear, “A lot. Thinking about you under me. On me. Thinking about how needy you are and get from the smallest things. Thinking about how cute you sound when I touch you and how shy you get when I tell you what I wanna do to you.”

His honesty would be the death of you. Doyoung was open yet tender in the way that he expressed things, completely unafraid of intimacy and letting you know that he wanted you. He never let you forget that he adored every aspect of your body, showering you in kisses and more often than not, praises in the form of whispers.

You were weak, and it didn’t help that at the same time he was telling you things that made your heart race, his fingers were also pacing in and out of you. He was no longer a want - you needed him inside of you, now.

“Fuck me already,” you cried, your patience dissipating rapidly.

Disapproving of your attitude, Doyoung delivered a smack to your thigh that made you cry out once more. “Where’s your manners?”

You had forgotten them - and anything that wasn’t the growing ache between your thighs, for that matter. It was safe to say that your eagerness had taken over you, although you knew Doyoung would give you everything you wanted as long as you behaved. He was always gentle unless you gave him a reason to be the opposite, and that was on rare occasions. But once he decided to show you no mercy, you were doomed. And you didn’t even want to think about not cumming.

“Doyoung, please fuck me,” you corrected yourself, adding for good measure, “I need you. So bad, it hurts.”

He hummed, satisfied. “Well we can’t have that, can we?”

Doyoung withdrew his fingers and whirled you around, hushing you with a kiss before you could whimper any complaint. All you could focus on was the taste of his tongue in your mouth, grounding yourself with his shoulders as the gesture had caught you off-guard. Meanwhile he was tugging your panties off, with help from you as you lifted your legs.

He cupped your pussy again and you moaned into his mouth before he parted and asked, “You want me?”

“Yes,” you replied a little too fast. “Please.”

“Then show me.”

It was obvious what he meant by showing him. He wanted you to ride him, and you weren’t one to argue. You’d take Doyoung in any position he was willing to try. You just needed him in you.

Doyoung was never too bent on specific positions, either. He was always the one in control, but he was firm enough in himself that he didn’t need to be on top to show power. Even if it was your body making the movements, it was him telling you what to do. Most of the time you had no problem bending to his will.

Right now was one of those times. You yanked down his boxers, discarding them onto the ground with your own underwear in a hurry and didn’t hesitate to reach out for his hard-on. With you already straddling him, you took the base of his dick in your palm, placing on him the condom he passed you then slid onto him.

The two of you moaned in perfect sync once you sank down on him. You could come up with several perks of fucking Doyoung, but one of your favorites was that no matter how much he liked to whisper, he was a vocal moaner by nature. Doyoung was a master at silencing himself whenever he deemed it necessary, however you loved when he refused to restrain himself and even more that he was unashamed; he loved expression through sex and pleasure.

He sounded like an angel, too. It felt like traveling through a portal to heaven whenever Doyoung moaned your name.

Doyoung asked once you had adjusted, “How you feeling, baby?”

“Good,” you sighed out in bliss. He was so deep inside you that you could barely breathe. “And full.”

“Of course. You take it like no one before you, baby girl,” he praised, and all the while you felt like the room was spinning.

Doyoung was indirectly stating that you were a better fuck than his wife. You didn’t like to think about Doyoung fucking other people when it wasn’t movies, but there was a reason that he was balls deep inside you right now instead of her. Everything that she could do, he realized, you could do better. Much, much better.

Deflecting the attention, you asked, “How do you feel?”

“I’m good too, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” Doyoung growled with zero hesitation. He was so fucking hot. You saw him barely fighting the utmost smug grin when you clenched around him.

He was better than anyone else before him too, in every fashion. No one had ever made your skin swelter the way Doyoung had. He said a word or made a bare touch and it was as though your whole body was consumed by flames. Somehow he made every moment feel as blissful as the first time, and every touch grazed upon your flesh by his fingertips lingered on you for days. Memories of what you’d done always replayed in your mind until you could have another taste.

Doyoung couldn’t be paid to keep his hands off of you. He steered you with a single hand clutching your waist and the other played to its content on your chest, bearing in mind that you always loved when he touched you there. Your body was a diamond to him - beautiful and precious, and he never got bored of you. Doyoung had seen you bare and naked an ungodly amount of times before, but each time he fell endlessly in love with it over and over again. He was utterly sure that he could never get bored of fucking you, and the feeling that accompanied it.

He pressed kisses to your neck, murmuring in between, “You ride me so good, baby.”

You were certain that you could explode. Doyoung had too much power over the entirety of your body. He made your pussy throb but your heart hammer, and sometimes he made you so nervous you wanted to cower. But there was nowhere - nothing to hide. You were both naked and exposed, skin to skin, uncovering your deepest emotions with the sex.

There was nowhere to run and you didn’t want to be anywhere if it wasn’t beside him.

The rest of the day dragged on like that - you and Doyoung fucking each other’s brains out, taking turns with different positions. You’d fuck, take a break to do something productive, then ultimately wind up having sex again. There was no self control when it came to either of you, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves.

And frankly, you didn't want to.

As an actress, maybe facades should have been second nature to you. You were the daughter of a director and sucked into the industry due to nepotism - it should have been practically flowing in your bloodstream. But you underestimated just how hard pretending you weren’t hooking up with one of your dad’s friends was.

Especially his best friend.

The reason your dad trusted Doyoung so much was because they were close, having known one another since before you were even a thought meandering in your parents’ mind. Your dad mentored Doyoung since he was nine years old until he didn’t need it anymore. That also meant he was around you often - around your entire family. Including your dad. Ignoring the rhythm of your heartbeat when he was around you and the uneasy tension between you became easier with time, but subduing the feeling completely was impossible. Much less possible when he found ways to tease you in secret.

You were at a party at your dad’s house and Doyoung had been unabashedly eye-fucking you all evening long. That alone made it obvious what he wanted, but it was all in the way he touched you too. Locking arms with you and grazing his hands against you seductivelyf when no one else was looking. It was risky, but you had to admit, it made it a little fun.

By the time the party was over though, you were sure all that lust had dulled into fatigue. Doyoung looked worn-out and gone as he rested on the couch, the last of your guests and unable to drive home because of how much liquor he’d consumed. That was what you overheard him telling your dad, at least. He insisted on getting an Uber, but your dad told him to take the guest room and some Aspirin in the morning.

Doyoung pulled your dad in for a brief hug. “Thanks, Taeyong. See you in the morning.”

“Of course,” Taeyong replied. “And go easier on the alcohol next time. You know you can’t handle too much.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Doyoung teased.

With a laugh, your dad patted him on the back and wished him goodnight, then went to join your mother in bed. You peered from around the corner, suspicion bottling up in your chest. It was possible that he was, but you didn’t want to be faced with the disappointment of it being true.

Arms folded across your chest, you asked, “You really drunk, babe?”

For a split second, Doyoung had looked surprised to hear you accusing him of feigning his intoxication. Then it wore off, and he chuckled. He looked around the hallway, and once he confirmed that you both were alone, admitted, “You caught me.”

You were a bit shocked to know that he was sober, but not that he’d feign inebriety - that didn’t surprise you. If Doyoung was set on having something he’d stop at almost nothing to get what he wanted. He did a damn good job at fooling everyone, too. You were under the impression that he was drunk and only confronted him for your own sake.

“Of course,” you murmured, then pressed, “May I ask your motive?” you had already known, but for some reason you wanted to lay down some cards to see what move he’d make.

Doyoung saw right through you, however. He always did. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t play dumb with me, baby. You know exactly what my motive is.”

And like always, that had you ready to drop your panties in a heartbeat.

“Meet me in the guest room in 30,” he commanded, then turned away in the direction of said room.

No more than thirty minutes later, you were in bed with him. This time he was the one hovering above you, and it made you feel as though you were being preyed on - a billion times more susceptible to anything that he desired to do to your body and you loved it. Doyoung was in full reign. He always had been, but something different sparked whenever he was constantly making the moves for you.

“Want it?” Doyoung asked in between short-lived kisses, ones that never felt like enough no matter how many he pressed to your skin because he was adamant on not applying enough pressure to result in marking you. Lord knew it was all he ever wanted, but it was too risky. Not only would your family grow curious, public speculation would grow about a possible love affair.

You breathed out, “Need it.”

Doyoung chuckled, yet every sign of amusement faded the very moment he prodded the head of his dick inside you. There was nothing but sheer pleasure swarming his face like gloomy storm clouds. Reminding himself that you weren’t necessarily alone, he bit his lip to suppress the sounds he was ever so tempted to make.

You, on the other hand, subconsciously leaned towards the careless side. This wasn’t your first rodeo, but the problem was that the experience never dulled the more you had sex; it did the opposite. Each time was better than the last and you struggled to hide how much Doyoung aroused you. Every single touch, thrust, and whisper had you falling apart at the seams. You simply couldn’t resist emitting even the quietest of moans and although Doyoung loved hearing you moan for him, he needed you to keep your voice to a minimum.

“Shh,” Doyoung whispered, cupping his palm over your mouth as he looked you dead in the eye. “Don’t want your daddy to know that I’m fucking you limp, do you?”

You shook your head in vehement denial. Although the walls were thick and the guest bedroom and your parents bedroom were on entirely different wings, Doyoung still didn’t want to get too comfortable unless the house was completely vacanted. You didn’t blame him. It was much better to be safe than sorry.

“Then stop being a brat and shut your mouth before I have to do it for you.”

That tempted you to fuck around and find out what that entailed, but you wouldn’t take the risk here. Instead you bit down on your lip and squeezed your eyes shut whenever he made a sharp thrust.

Other noises that were beyond your individual control made it all too obvious that you were having sex. The slight creak of the bed and the slapping noise of your skin joining together whenever Doyoung thrusted his hips into yours. All it would take was someone wandering a little too close in proximity to the bedroom to tell what was going on, but as forementioned, your parents were on the opposite wing. That made it easier to focus on Doyoung. The way his mouth fell agape in silent moans or his teeth dug into his bottom lip to conceal his pleasure. The way his grip on your waist tightened whenever you clenched around him. Whatever it was he did, you were completely entranced by his reactions.

Doyoung only mirrored your awe as he watched the way your cunt swallowed him greedily. He could see the print of his bulge flat against your stomach and it sent him into overdrive. If anything, he only began pounding you harder in spite of the noise, leaving you to grip the sheets for dear life and let your eyes roll back.

“Always so tight for me,” Doyoung growled. “Don’t I fuck you enough?”

You whimpered in response as quietly as you could, “I need more.”

“My greedy little slut,” he sighed out in bliss, hips seemingly rocking into you deeper as he fulfilled your wish. Something about him claiming you as his possession was exhilarating to you. You were his greedy little slut. “Gonna fuck you all night long, baby.”

God, you knew he could. It wouldn’t be the first time Doyoung fucked you right into the mattress round after round, until you physically and mentally tapped out - and it damn sure wouldn’t be the last.

Having sex with Doyoung was everything nineteen-year-old you dreamed it would be, and then some. The movies had nothing on the real experience. They were graphic and arousing, but having Doyoung hold and touch you already made you feel as if your head was in the clouds. He made you feel wanted with his kisses and praises directed to you specifically, and the sexual tension between you was practically as good as the sex itself. Every moment with him was intimate and there was nothing better than being able to say that you had the Kim Doyoung in your sheets.

Then there also wasn’t some big explanation. Doyoung simply fucked you good and gave you sex on the ceiling. He knew your body inside out and was your greatest vice. It was natural that you were inclined to come back to someone who fucked you better than anyone else.

Doyoung’s pace began to quicken yet his thrusts became shallower, and by then - after the multiple occasions that you’d spent fucking and sucking the life out of one another - you knew well enough that it was a signal he was close. To say nothing of the moans you could tell he was struggling to contain. You weren’t any better yourself, feeling the knot inside you tightening. Both your bodies were aching for a release.

“Cum for me,” Doyoung exhaled, the drive of his hips fiercer than ever. He was breathless, yet still relentlessly digging you deeper into the mattress without an ounce of mercy.

If nobody heard the two of you going at it all night long, you were sure that there’d be suspicions now that you were going to be walking with a limp.

You cried when you came, “Doyoung!” Your hands scrambled for something to anchor yourself on, anything, the grip of your finger’s moving to claw at his shoulders. Doyoung grimaced and fought a grunt, but it was no secret to you that he was a sucker for a little pain.

Doyoung’s body reacted to yours, releasing into the condom with profanities, followed by the gentle grunt of your name the moment he felt the tightening grip of your walls. You loved when he did that. There was something about Doyoung moaning your name that made you want to finish him all over again, in spite of your sensitivity fresh after orgasming in his hold. If it were possible, you would loop the sound in your brain.

His hips didn’t stop rocking into you even after either of you came, savoring his high until it faded into the post-euphoria of his orgasm. He tossed out the condom, making a mental note to dispose of it properly before he fell asleep, then climbed back in bed with you. “You did well,” he whispered once he joined your side again, embracing you and kissing your skin.

You smiled. “Tired?”

“Honestly? It’s been a long night. I needed this, baby.”

You figured as much. He was fucking you like he worked a nine to five and had a week-load worth of stress to unleash in your pussy. That either meant he was exhausted beyond belief and wanted to sleep, or that there was plenty more where that came from.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking?”

Your ears practically perked up. Doyoung’s thoughts were either interesting or dirty - or a deadly combination of both. “What’s on your mind?”

“I wanna cum in you so damn bad.”

You had a feeling that tonight was a “there’s more where that came from” kind of night.

Doyoung finishing inside you was something that both of you fantasized about from time to time, maybe a little more often. There were risks, however you did your best to stay safe - Doyoung got tested immediately after he found out his wife was cheating on him, and you were on birth control. You didn’t know when the last time him and his wife had sex was, but you doubted it was any time after he started fucking you. The condoms were a force of habit.

“You’re clean, right?”

Doyoung nodded in an instant.

“Then, why don’t you?”

“Oh, baby,” he growled. “Trust me, I would right now if this was my house.”

You almost moaned when he did that. You were turned on all over again, but it wasn’t like you had reached the point of being turned off in the first place. Things worked like that with Doyoung.

“Condom, no condom, I don’t care. Just fuck me,” you whined, desperate to feel him between your walls all over again.

Doyoung wore a smug grin, climbing back onto you without having to be told twice. “Told you, I’m gonna fuck you all night long.”

And he did.

Misconceptions were popular amongst the lives of famous people, and Kim Doyoung was no exception. The public saw only what he was willing to expose - showing off his family and thanking the world for his endless amount of awards. No one would have guessed that a man who seemed to have such a picture-perfect lifestyle would ever be having an affair.

You and Doyoung were a long story. It started after Doyoung realized his wife was cheating on him with a D-list celebrity. By then they already had been arguing here and there, most of it being her fault. He told you that the only reason they hadn’t gone their own separate ways was for the sake of their child.

And then you came along. Unbeknownst to you at the time, Doyoung had always been aware of your attraction towards him. He found it cute but never thought too much of it until you were both casted together in Whisper, and having to work with you on such a sensual movie made tension between you light up in sparks. It wasn’t long before he confronted you, and even less before you got a taste of what people raved about endlessly in articles and on social media. You weren’t the only girl wondering what sex with Doyoung was like, but you were one of the few who would ever actually get to know the experience.

And goddamn, was it a heavenly one.

It really made you think. You’d have to be an absolute idiot to cheat on the fucking Kim Doyoung.

Tonight was the long-awaited movie premiere. Years of filming Whisper made you feel somewhat emotional, maybe because you could relate to your character all too well. The movie was so suspiciously accurate that you caught yourself reflecting and comparing the circumstances. It was a hell of a coincidence, but you knew that there was nothing more to it with the affair occuring only sometime after you’d been casted.

“You look breathtaking in this dress,” Doyoung told you after the red carpet photographs.

“Don’t flatter me,” you murmured, pretending that there weren’t butterflies swarming in your stomach. Your attraction to Doyoung may have grown beyond physical; a little more limitless than you’d like to admit. But that was a story for another day and another time.

Then, he leaned in and whispered, “You gonna let me take it off you tonight?”

You were glad that there was no more press around since you were on the way to the theater. Otherwise people might have caught onto what was a sensual moment for you. You tried your best to feign unbotheredness, but Doyoung left you hot and bothered and you couldn’t hide it.

Your mouth felt dry. “Y-yeah.”

Doyoung was amused. You were easily shy sometimes, yet also no questions asked to his wants. It was always fun seeing the effect he had on you and messing around on purpose just to get a kick out of it.

“I’ll send you a location. Have Mark take you there.”

Mark was your personal Uber - and the only person who knew what was happening between you and Doyoung. Thanks to Doyoung wanting to have car sex one time a year ago and not checking if you were alone, you winded up having to explain your situation to Mark, but he was shockingly understanding. There was no fear or doubt with him and it was a relief.

Doyoung walked off moments later, planting the seed that was growing in your brain. Seeing him dressed up only watered it, you thought he looked just as breathtaking as you were to him. Now you were thinking about getting naked and screwing Doyoung at some random location, and you had no idea how you were going to get through the movie premiere.

The next few hours were probably the longest of your life. They were exciting however, with all the positive reactions and feedback on the movie from your peers. There was dinner and socializing and while you were enjoying yourself tremendously and extremely proud of how the movie turned out, you needed Doyoung on such a greater level that nothing could satiate.

When it was finally time to leave, you hopped in the car and told Mark the location Doyoung had texted you via iMessage. Other than someone who simply worked for you, you also thought of Mark as a good friend. He was closer to your age than he was Doyoung’s, and was always fun to talk to.

“You and Doyoung going at it tonight, huh?”

You laughed. “When don’t we?”

Mark shrugged. It was a good question that he didn’t know the answer to, but he knew that it was none of his business. Unfortunately however, he sucked at minding his own.

“I, have a question…,” he started, sounding hesitant as ever, which only made you curious.

Curiously, you urged him. “Go on.”

“You and Doyoung,” he continued, still reluctant, as if he was taste testing his words before he said them. “Don’t shoot me, but is it just sex? Or have you guys caught feelings?”

Naturally, you opened your mouth to respond, but quickly closed it when you realized that you didn’t have an answer. The simple answer was on the tip of your tongue - Yes. But your relationship with Doyoung was so much more complicated than that, and you hated to think about how he felt towards you. You had been trying to accept that you weren’t supposed to be anything but a pretty plaything for him to run to whenever he was fed up with his wife and needed some relief. Gradually, you were becoming okay with that.

Yet another part of you was hungry for more. That was always how you were. Whenever you got what you wanted, it still wasn’t enough. You were too greedy and insatiable, and desired all the things that were bad for you.

Mark added when he caught onto your silence, “Forget it if I’m being invasive. I just saw you smiling out the window and all bubbly when I mentioned him and I got curious.”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, although you felt like melting into the leather seat. One way or another, you guessed that you’d have to confront your emotions eventually. “To be honest… I think I do like him. And it’s sick because I don’t want to, I shouldn’t want to, I shouldn’t want him. But here we are, and I don’t think he feels the same.”

“I think he does.”

That made you snort. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m deadass,” Mark said without a trace of a smile on his face as you watched him through the rear view mirror. “Do you see the way he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to fuck me? Yeah.”

“Like he wants you,” Mark corrected. “Like you hung up each fuckin’ star in the sky by hand. I can tell you guys don’t just want to fuck each other. You seem to enjoy each other’s company and with all the times I’ve had to witness you two sucking each other’s tongues in the back of this car I’d be damned if there wasn’t something there.”

You sat there in silent shock. When you thought about it, maybe Mark was correct. You fell in love with how gently and lovingly Doyoung treated you even outside of sex, but you never got your hopes up. Maybe it was just him having the decency to treat you well. Maybe it was the bare minimum that you were swooning over.

But Doyoung went above and beyond when it came to you. He cooked for you whenever you stayed over and held you longer than he needed to. He took you places and bought you things you wanted yet never needed. He seemed to always put you first and was honestly the most selfless person that you knew. That was what you loved about him. He always went the extra mile.

Damn it. You really did want Doyoung.

Mark pulled into the driveway some moments later, and you were surprised to see that your destination wasn’t too far from the venue. It was a nice house with a gate that you told him the code to, and you wondered who’s name it was in and why you hadn’t gone here sooner.

“I’m sorry about what you see,” you responded, a little too late, but Mark didn’t seem to mind. It was understood that you needed a moment to reflect.

Mark shrugged without a care in the world. He smiled and said, “It’s alright as long as I get to see you happy. Now go get him.”

You smiled back. Mark’s words always felt like a pat on the back.

When you rang the doorbell, Doyoung opened the door for you, offering you no time before he swooped you inside and pinned you against the door. You squealed, cut off by his lips latching onto your mouth as he kissed you breathless. You were getting deja vu, recalling the last time that this had happened.

“I have a feeling you missed me,” you said once he pulled you away and let you breathe.

Doyoung pecked your lips, smiling softly against them. “Always.”

Your heart fluttered at the feeling. After your talk with Mark you were now hyper aware of all the little things about Doyoung that you loved, and his cute smile was one of them.

In your attempt to distract yourself from your heartbeat you asked, “Where are we?”

“One of my brother’s houses. He’s not here frequently, said I could use it for the night.”

Even as a wealthy celebrity who thrived off of nepotism, you never understood the rich’s obsession with buying house after house just to hardly live in them. But in this moment you were grateful because it meant that you and Doyoung were all alone, and you could be as loud as and do whatever your hearts desired.

“Oh, I see,” you purred, threading your fingers through his hair. “You must want me screaming my lungs off tonight.”

Doyoung nodded his head. “And that’s not all. I went and got tested again. I haven’t slept with her in a while, or anyone else for that matter, but I just felt like it. It came back negative. I’m clean.”

There were a billion thoughts racing in your mind, and then some. You were throbbing at the idea of Doyoung fucking you raw alone, but to have the opportunity being presented to you was something entirely different. You wanted it. Bad.

“Fuck, you really wanna do this?”

“I really wanna fuck you,” Doyoung said. Then something in him seemed to falter. “Actually no. I don’t just wanna fuck you. I wanna make love to you. I don’t care if it sounds corny, you’re my everything, baby, and I wanna show you that I mean it.”

It took a moment for what he was implying to sink in, but when it did, you were ready. “Show me, then,” you stared him dead in the eye. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can, babe,” Doyoung growled, then crashed his lips back against yours. In the same timeframe you were undressing one another as he aided you to a room, unraveling in the midst of heated fervor.

Your dress landed in a heap on the floor, soon followed by your underwear until you were both stripped bare. You felt exposed, but in an exhilarating way. It meant he was free to do whatever he wished to your body.

Doyoung pinned you to the comforter then went for your skin like he always did, as though showering your body in warm kisses was a natural instinct. Something still felt different. He kissed you slower, gradually making progress down from your collarbone to your thighs. Taking his time to peck your weakest spots. He was showing your body - showing you love.

“Fuck, I wanna mark you so bad,” he said randomly, taking you by surprise. Doyoung had never intentionally marked you, the two of you fearing being suspected, or even caught. “We should get away. Go out of town for a while so that I can mark you, until they clear up.”

You giggled and threaded your fingers through his hair. “Now how would we do that in the middle of promotions - press appearances and interviews?”

Doyoung sighed. “Let me dream.”

That made you giggle again, and Doyoung smiled to himself at the sound. He loved everything about you and tonight, he was determined to show you exactly how much.

“Mark me where no one can see, but you. My body’s for your eyes only,” you told him. Your relationship was committed. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had slept with another person and the very moment you started sleeping with him, you had no reason to want to be with anyone else.

“If I start now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” Doyoung warned.

You shrugged. “Then don’t.”

Tonight seemed to be full of reckless decision-making, and you were tempting him to make another one. It would possibly be the least rash of all the others to come, so when you decided that you didn’t care, he concluded that he didn’t either.

Doyoung’s lips always felt good on your skin, but having him suck and bite on you was incomparable. You felt like a teenager in love for the very first time, infatuated with this newfound feeling and dreading the end. Your breath was hitching as his mouth blemished your stomach, an array of marks forming delicately. Heat suffocated your body as the room seemed to only grow hotter, and you wondered if it was all in your mind or if he felt it too.

You were practically covered head to toe in red blotches when he was finished with you. For a while Doyoung watched your chest rise and fall rapidly with a proud glint in his eye, evidently pleased with his hard work. And nothing felt better than having traces of him all over your body. It felt scandalous, but you liked it.

He rose up to lean in your ear and ask, “I’m gonna eat you out now. Is that okay with you, baby?”

You nodded without wasting a moment of time. It was more than okay if you were being honest, you were needy for him and whatever bit of him you could get.

Doyoung was straight to the action when he positioned himself between your thighs, and the contrast from his previous slow-paced actions gave you whiplash. Your mouth parted open in a moan and you fixed your hands back on his black locks, observing on your back how his tongue moved relentlessly against you.

It was dangerous that he knew your body’s ins and outs. Doyoung had a superpower where he could see right through you. He knew what made you tick. He knew exactly where to touch you and where you were most sensitive. He knew the difference between what felt just good and what left your skin scorching with desire. You suspected that there was a blueprint to your body engraved behind his eyelids. Then again, after two years of this routine - sneaking away to screw one another until your bodies ached and maybe sometimes a little longer - it made sense that he had learned how your body worked.

And god, Doyoung loved how it responded to his touches. Your body always trembled a little, your thighs wavering as you struggled to handle the pleasure. Your breath got shallow and he was a sucker for the little exhales you emit whenever he did as little as touch you. You always reached out for something to clutch with all your might to help support yourself. You were tight as a bitch and there was never a dull moment being inside you. His mouth was watering at the mere thought of going bareback.

You cried as you felt close, “Doyoung, baby, fuck.”

“Let go,” he cooed, then his lips were back on your cunt.

There was no need for you to be told twice. Your grip on his hair tightened as you orgasmed, uncontrollably bucking up and grinding your hips into his mouth. A shriek came from your mouth as you finished, but Doyoung didn’t look like he was done with you just yet.

“One more time,” Doyoung said. He didn’t look willing to be deterred, already set on his mission before the words left his mouth. Still, he added tauntingly, “Unless, you can’t handle it.”

You fired immediately, “N-no, I can take it.”

Your squirming body and fucked out face betrayed your words, as well as the tremble in your voice, but Doyoung grinned condescendingly at how eager you still were to take everything that he was giving you.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Then his mouth was set back on your cunt.

Although the first one worked like a charm, Doyoung had a new tactic this round - fingering you. His ring and middle fingers prodded you, toying with your clit until he was satisfied with your whimpers and stuck them in. All at once his mouth was sucking on you, his nose nudging your clit and it had you soaring through cloud nine. There was something about the way Doyoung made you feel that was incomparable to any other emotion ever evoked within you.

You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, so every move Doyoung made had you at least twice as blissed out. You couldn’t help but emit a cry of his name at even the slightest of contact, quickly becoming overwhelmed by pleasure. To make matters worse (better), Doyoung was like a storm and refused to let up. There was no other option than for you to take everything he was offering to the best of your ability, to prove that you could handle him just as much as you claimed. You weren’t one to tap out too easily.

The pressure was too much. Quicker than before, you were yet again close to imploding. His quite literally handy work was enough to shove you over the edge, and you barely had the chance to warn him before you were thrown over it.

“I’m…” was all you could say before you were screaming, body convulsing as your orgasm fell upon you once more. It was the second time tonight, but deep inside you knew that it was still far from the last.

Doyoung finally showed you mercy and pulled away this time around, lips all wet by the time that he was finished. There was nothing that you could say that would convey how you felt. You could only lie there in silence with your chest heaving at rapid speed as you tried to endure your daze.

“Think you can still handle it?” He asked with a smile.

You were offended that he doubted you. “Try me.”

He didn’t wait around. Doyoung was lining himself up at your slit in mere seconds and the feeling of his tip brushing against it was making you drastically impatient. Moments like this made days without fucking him feel like weeks.

Finally he pushed into you, at a pace so slow it was almost agonizing. Doyoung leant his head back with a moan at that very moment, adjusting to the feeling of your bare walls. You felt tighter, wetter and warmer, and he already felt as if he could bust. Especially when you instantly clenched upon his entrance. One round definitely wasn’t going to be enough.

“S-shit,” you moaned, a clear waver in your voice. There was nothing else that you needed to say - your body definitely gave away how pleased you were to feel him. Your head lolled back against the pillow and you sighed in satisfaction.

As his hips rocked back and forth, the thoughts inside Doyoung’s brains only developed more and more, all of them centered around you. For one, he thought that there wasn’t a single word that could describe how beautiful you looked underneath him. Moonlight snook past the curtains and glimmered on your exposed skin, highlighting your breast and face. The fucked out expression you wore on your face only expanded his urge to keep you up all night, rocking into you slowly and steadily to savor the moment. The marks he left on you also bathed in the moonlight. That was all it took for Doyoung to lose his mind.

Second of all, Doyoung couldn’t fathom why he waited so long to fuck you raw. Sex with you would always be amazing regardless of what either of you chose to do, but he knew it’d be a lie to say that he didn’t prefer it this way. From the looks of it, you felt the exact same.

Doyoung swooped you into a sudden kiss, effectively cutting off your moans. You instead whimpered into his mouth with pleasant surprise, kissing him back with the same passion. When he was satisfied he pulled back and murmured, “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

His praise was your poison. You were addicted to him, intoxicated by him, and even if it was wrong you wouldn’t have it any other way. All your worries vanished when you had Doyoung by your side. When he touched you, you couldn’t even think of anyone - or anything - else besides him. You were all about him, and there wasn’t a single other person that could make you feel the way that he did. There wasn’t anyone who could please or satisfy you just like Doyoung.

You liked that Doyoung didn’t throw words around either. When he called you beautiful, he showed you that he meant it. His fingers and lips scattered around your body, hands grabbing your breast as his mouth sucked more marks into any available space. He meant it when he said that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. To him, there was no such thing as enough.

That’s when you realized you and Doyoung may have mirrored one another. Too much greed in your hearts to ever be satiated, and perhaps that’s why you were a perfect match. You could attempt to drain one another completely, milk each other dry, and still never exhaust.

“You’re mine,” Doyoung whispered between pecks. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You stammered, “I’m yours.”

Doyoung moved his hand to your clit, fingers rubbing to their content. “Again.”

“I’m… I’m yours! I’m all yours, Doyoung,” you cried. You had meant it. Your body longed for him. After two entire years of this, you felt like your body belonged to him.

Satisfied, Doyoung kept up his actions. You were clueless as to how loud either of you were being in that moment. The bed creaked some and there was a loud smack whenever his hips slammed into yours, but you were only focused on Doyoung. Beads of sweat collected on his skin yet there wasn’t a hint of exhaustion on his face; only pleasure. His bare, sweaty chest glistened in the moonlight, and you desperately wanted to mark him back. Just like he’d done you.

It was too bad that he had someone to come back to. He may not have had sex with his wife, but there were other instances where she was bound to see his body and it was too risky. The only reason either of you cared was not because he was afraid of her finding out that he was cheating back, but because there was a chance that she’d put the pieces together. All it took was a name and you would be in hot water.

That thought made something in you sullen, and you had to dispose of the feeling quickly.

“You’re mine, too,” you said. “Right?”

Doyoung reached for your hand and slipped his fingers between yours. “I’m all yours, I promise. You’re my one and only.”

That was enough to placate you. Doyoung belonged to you and you belonged to him, you didn’t care what the documents said. He was all yours.

Now you were approaching your climax, and by the death grip Doyoung was currently holding on your hips you could tell that you weren’t alone. His moans were getting louder and it wouldn’t be long before he was ready to bust.

“Breed me, Doyoung, please,” you begged. You had reached a point of desperacy, rolling your hips into his to match his thrusts as you chased your orgasm. “Breed me, breed me, breed me.”

“Fuck,” Doyoung groaned. You were driving him crazy. It meant everything to know that you wanted this just as badly as he did. “I’m gonna give it all to you, babe.”

Your vision clouded with nothing but white when you reached your climax, squeezing Doyoung’s hand for leverage. As your limbs shook, your mouth gaped in moans but your cunt tightened around Doyoung. That was the last straw for him, the last push he needed. His moans resounded throughout the room as his warm cum coated your walls, filling you to your brim. He came a lot, but you weren’t complaining. The feeling of his seed inside you was ever so quickly becoming one of your favorites.

When he pulled out, Doyoung proudly watched how his cum trickled from you. He wanted to do it over and over again. The clock on the nightstand read two A.M., and that’s when he knew that this night was going to last until the morning.

“Wanted this ever since I first saw you with Daphne. You’re so good with her,” Doyoung said, and you vaguely recalled the time he was talking about. He was trying to keep her entertained and you happened to be fairly good with children. “Knew I had to put a baby in you. I’m gonna breed you for real one day. I promise.”

“Doyoung,” you whined.

He didn’t stop. “You want that, yeah? You want me to fuck you full of my cum?”

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop.”

He grinned. There was no plan of stopping.

By the time Doyoung did finally stop, it was early in the morning and the sun was beginning to peak from the horizon. You giggled when he finally tapped out and fell beside you, and grabbed his face to kiss him on his lips.

Doyoung smiled. “I love you.”

You froze for a moment. “You mean that?”

“From the bottom of my heart,” he said, then added, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure shit out. All that matters is I got you and you got me, and I won’t let anything come between us.”

It felt like there was a wait lifted from your shoulders. You weren’t free to love him whenever or wherever, but you were free to love him however much you wanted. That made it feel okay.

You pecked his lips again. “I love you, too. I’ll wait for us.”

Doyoung held you in his arms. He could only say that you were like a daydream to him, everything he could have ever wanted wrapped into one. There wasn’t one damn thing about you that he didn’t adore. You made his heart sing and dance, and he hoped his body said everything that words could not. There was no way he could explain what he felt about you.

You and Doyoung’s love was straight out of a movie. And this was only the beginning to your chase for a happily ever after.

#doyoung smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #doyoung x reader #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #kim doyoung smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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shadowkoo · 1 month ago

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love me softly

→ Summary: When your long-distance boyfriend's visit falls through, you decide to make the most of your free time. But after a day out, you're in for an unexpected surprise when you get home.

↠ taeyong x f.reader | 1.9k words | 18+ ↠ genre: angst, fluff, smut, established relationship, idol au, long distance au

→ Warnings: lots of pet names, a touch of sad vibes in the beginning but that turns around pretty quickly, the sweetest softest smut i’ve written in a while, praise kink, the lightest hair pulling idk if it really counts lol, body worship (yong really really love his girl okay), creampie, unprotected & explicit sex, if i’m missing any lemme know

→ Networks: @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

→ Author Note: happy october :) this is just a lil shortie oneshot (which was supposed to be a drabble skldjfa;lksdfj) to get me back on writing track, i’ve got a big spooky fic coming in the next few weeks!! divider credit

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Taeyong mumbles through his phone. “It’s taking us longer to film than we anticipated, so I’m gonna be delayed another day at least.”

Your boyfriend had initially set aside time in his very busy schedule to come visit you after he finished filming his newest music video in LA; which should’ve wrapped up a few days ago. Since you live on opposite sides of the world, he wanted to take advantage of being only a few states apart instead continents apart. You’re just a quick three hour flight away and he’s been thinking about seeing you ever since he planned this break in his schedule.

Except his plans keep changing; first it was production problems and now it’s the weather. They just can’t catch a break. And all of this is cutting into the time he is supposed to spend with you.

“Is it even worth visiting now? We’ll only have a day or two left from the week we planned together."

Taeyong’s brows furrow, “It’s worth it to me, you’re worth it. I know it’s not ideal, baby, but I miss you so much. Even if we only have a couple of hours together, I’ll still come to you when this is finished.”

Hearing the film crew calling his name through the phone, you sigh, letting the welled up tears fall down your cheeks. They’re ready to start filming the next scene and he has to go, again. You won’t be seeing him today, again.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. I have to get back on set. I’ll text you later, okay?” Taeyong’s heart rips into pieces when he hears you sniffle.

“Okay, I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” He hangs up and takes a couple of deep breathes, blinking back his own tears. He hates when you’re hurt, especially when it’s his fault. Taeyong lets out a puff of air, time to pull it together. The faster he perfects this scene and those to follow, the faster he can be on his way to you.

It’s the next day, and you wake up with swollen eyes from crying all night. You push back the blankets and force yourself to get up. Sitting at home and being sad all day won’t do you any good.

You know that it’s not Taeyong’s fault he keeps getting delayed, everything that’s happened has just been an unfortunate string of events. You’ll admit that going to see him had crossed your mind last night, but then you thought better of it.

Girlfriends at work can cause problems, you don’t want to distract him or be in the way of the crew. Plus, you two haven’t fully gone public with your relationship yet. His management team has been informed for a while now, and other NCT member’s know too.

But the millions of fans? That’s a daunting step that you two haven’t taken yet. You’re not necessarily hiding your relationship, but you’re not flaunting it out in front of the world either.

As you get dressed, you shoot a quick text to your friend Fia to confirm your plans for coffee and a trip to the bookstore. Running on little sleep, you're in serious need of caffeine, and you've been eagerly waiting for your favorite author’s new book to drop.

She replies almost instantly, saying she’s in and excited to see you. You skip your usual makeup routine and throw your hair into a loose ponytail before heading out the door.

Stepping outside onto the leaf-littered sidewalk, you can’t help but smile—it’s finally October, your favorite time of year. The air feels crisp, and everything has that warm, cozy vibe that you love, from now until the end of the year. It’s the perfect season for coffee dates, soft sweaters, and losing yourself in a good book.

Fia is saving you a window seat inside her favorite cafe, “Hi! It’s been too long, I got you an Iced Pumpkin Chai.” She cheerfully hands you the drink, “So, how have you been? I thought Taeyong would be coming with you?”

“Ahh, right,” you say, before taking your first sip. “He’s stuck in LA unfortunately, but I still wanted to catch up you.”

“Oh no, that’s a bummer,” she says, resting a hand on your arm. “How are you handling it?”

“Better than last time, but it’s still not fun.”

“I bet, well if you get lonely you’re always welcome to come stay with me. I don’t think James will mind.” James is Fia’s elderly cat, who takes his naps on the windowsill quite seriously. He’s to sleepy to care when Fia has visitors, as you’ve witnessed.

“I might take you up on that offer.”

Meeting up with Fia completely turned your day around. The two of you sipped coffee, chatted about your latest reads, and vented about the upcoming book-to-movie adaptations that are sure to fall short. Then, you made your way to the bookstore, continuing the conversation.

After each grabbing a few books, Fia convinces you to go thrift shopping with her next. By the time you finally make it home, your arms are loaded with the day’s haul.

You set down the bags so you can punch in your door key code, letting yourself in. The afternoon sunlight shines through your windows, illuminating the beautiful bouquet of marigolds on your table with a warm glow.

‘Hmm, that’s weird,’ you think to yourself as you set the bags down next to them, ‘Did I buy these earlier this week and forget about them? That would be just like me with everything that’s been on my mind.’

You think nothing of it and head to your bedroom, ready to change into comfier clothes for the rest of the night. Earlier, on the walk home you decided you’d spend the rest of your night by making your favorite soup for dinner, and then settling in for a Halloweentown movie marathon.

Just inside your bedroom door, you see a hoodie drapped over a suitcase. Your heart swells as your eyes drift over to the bed, where your boyfriend is peacefully sleeping. Not wanting to wake him, you change quietly and climb into bed and wrap yourself around him, you need to make sure this is real and not a figment of your imagination.

He rolls over and envelops you in his arms, kissing you softly. “Mmm, I was wondering when you’d get back.”

It’s really him.

“How are you here right now?” you ask, pulling back to scan his face.

“We finished filming late last night. Well technically this morning around 3am, and I got on the first available flight.”

“How long have you been here?” you ask next.

“Not long, just enough for me to change out of airport clothes and climb in bed,” he chuckles, pulling you back in for another sweet kiss. His lips gently press against yours and a hand reached around to the back of your head, letting down your hair so his fingers could run through the loose strands.

Taeyong tugs your hair with the lightest touch, but enough for you to let out a soft gasp. He uses the opportunity to push his tongue in past your parted lips.

Your hands rub up his solid chest, and you moan into his mouth as his kisses get a little more rough, a little more desperate.

“Did you like your flowers?” he asks when your lips are just barely touching.

“They’re beautiful,” you giggle, “I couldn’t figure out where they came from. I thought I might have gone crazy.”

“I saw them at the market just down the street and they reminded me of how radiant you always are.” His eyes gaze into yours and you can see that he really means that. Your heart melts.

“Ugh, I missed you,” you murmur before pulling him in for another long kiss, only separating when you need air.

He admires how swollen and wet your lips are while he hovers over you, looking down with desire-filled eyes.

“I missed you so much. I missed kissing you. I missed the way you taste. The way you mewl when I touch you right here,” he whispers, his hand slipping in between your legs, sliding them under your panties until his fingers find their way home.

Tossing your head back into the pillows, you squeeze your eyes shut as one finger, and then two, dip inside your slick heat.

“God, so wet already.” His fingers pump into you again and they curl at the right moment, lighting your body on fire. He keeps a leisurely pace, wanting to savor every second of this. He can take you from behind later. Right now he wants to prove how much he missed you. How much he loves you.

“Mmm, yes,” you moan, having longed for this so much over the past few months. He knows you so well, your body is so in tune with his. “Let me touch you too,” you breath as your fingers find his waistband. You stroke his growing length. Feeling the weight of him in your palm has always makes your mouth water for what is to come.

Rough Taeyong is devilishly hot, but soft and sensual Taeyong is a whole other breed of demon. He’ll worship you until you’re a dripping mess.

He watches intently as your eyes flutter shut, knowing very well that you’re close. He strategically presses his thumb up against your aching clit, rubbing in dangerous circles until he feels your walls start to tense. “Come for me, babe. Come all over my fingers like the good girl I know you are.”

His words are enough to send you over the edge. He swallows your loud moans while you clench around his fingers, coming beautifully undone and writhing underneath him.

Taeyong lets you ride out the waves, completely captivated by how ethereal you look in that moment. “You’re a goddess,” he breathes, bending down to meet your mouth once again. He pulls back, only to remove your clothing before removing his own.

“Love me, ‘Yongie,” you beg, needing to feel him inside you, just needing him.

“Always.” He moves a hand to cup your cheek while he slowly sinks into your wet slit. No matter how many times he’s with you, he’ll never get over how perfect you are. He bites back a moan when he hits your cervix. A perfect fucking fit, every single time.

He moves with a pace so slow it feels like divine torture. “I’ll never get tired of this,” he groans, pulling out until just his tip is held between your folds, then rolling his hips back inward.

“OH my god,” you moan, your nails digging into his bare back, “You feel so good.”

Taeyong nestles his head into your neck, bringing you closer and closer to the release that you crave.

“I’m close, baby, so close,” you whine. “Come in me,” you beg, pleading for him to release into you.

Taeyong hisses, his movements becoming more jerky. “I love you,” he groans as the coil snaps inside you. Waves of pleasure wash over your body, the sparks tingling through your veins. He follows your suit, tensing as your inner walls writhe around his length, milking him of his creamy seed.

He collapses next to you, whispering I love you’s into your ear as you both catch your breath.

“So,” you begin once you finally remember how to speak, “Wanna help me make dinner?”

“In a bit,” he sighs, pulling your limp body on top of his to kiss you lazily, “I’m not done loving you yet.”

→ Taglist: @beomcoups @mar-lo @starsrens (join here)

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #taeyong smut #nct taeyong #nct smut #taeyong x reader #taeyong x you #lee taeyong #taeyong fanfic #taeyong oneshot #taeyong angst #taeyong fluff #nct oneshot #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut #shadowkoo #100

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pendarling · 1 year ago

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Loving Names

Hero was perplexed when Villain stopped calling them by their terms of endearment. Things like “honey,” “love,” or “sweetheart,” had made them melt, but they’d never dare show interest to an enemy like that. They were just curious as to why, that’s all.

It was just a bit strange now that they realized after their last few battles with Villain, all the nicknames had disappeared entirely.

In the time they met Villain they always knew there was just something about them that drew them closer. It wasn’t just the way Villain affectionately talked them up or the small remarks that gave them butterflies but also the hints of deeper feelings they left for them with every banter.

It all tore at their heart, of course they can’t openly say something so embarrassing. A hero’s job was to protect the city and its citizens from villains and this one was no exception.

So Hero never reciprocated the behaviour. They couldn’t let themselves become caught up in the emotional drama Villain was leading them in.

At least they should’ve saw it coming. They should’ve known that after denying Villain from the satisfaction of ever knowing how they felt, that Villain would eventually stop pursuing. They would stop the flirting and the lingering gazes. The gentle but brief touches and the high risk close combat that gave Villain a chance to speak soft poems to them.

It was like a reset button had been pressed and Villain immediately returned to how things initially were when they first met.

For that, Hero felt great regret.

Which is why they were planning on confronting them.

~~~

They found Villain sitting casually at the scene of another crime. It almost seemed unusually quicker than normal. It would take at least an hour to detect Villain at any of these attacks, but it looked like the universe had something else in mind.

Determination pushed Hero toward their nemesis, the question still boiling deep inside them.

Hero walked behind them as the other idly sat on the roof, their feet dangling at its edge. “Villain,” they spoke.

They rose from their position, and turned to look at them with sly eyes. “Just in time. Shall we continue where we left off?”

Without much hesitation, Hero pulled out their weapon and readied themselves for the dance they’ve grown so familiar with.

Villain closed the gap and swung in their direction; their hand aiming for their gut. They quickly blocked the attack and backed up, a swift kick sent them back and let Hero breathe momentarily.

As the battle continued against Villain, their heart began to race out of anticipation for the promised conversation. It would be awkward at first, but as soon as they could get it out they would play it all off cool.

“What’s got your mind wandering?” Villain shoved Hero to ground as quickly as they tugged the weapon out of their grasp.

At first, they didn’t acknowledge the concern, but figured if anything, now would be the time to ask. Their eyes warily stared at Villain’s mischievous mask, though words began to fail them, “Uh…” it had to be now. They couldn’t let this stress take hold of them any longer.

The criminal stood just a few feet from them with a curious glint. They were certain they knew exactly what Hero was going to ask.

“I noticed…” Their voice was a lot shakier as they stood, “That you stopped with all the… names.” Their gaze stayed glued to the ground as their face grew hotter.

Villain hummed with an expression that lightened up instantly. “Oh, what do you mean?”

So they were going to play stupid. Was this some kind of punishment for not giving the reciprocation they were looking for?

They should’ve known and yet…

“You know…” They wiped their sweating hands onto their suit. “You always had a way with words.”

“I don’t seem to know what you’re talking about, Hero.”

They pouted slightly at the responses, “How do you not know? You’ve always called me… other things…” They trailed off. Just how long was Villain intending to keep them in this agonizing situation?

A laughter echoed which sent their head spiralling. Villain moved closer, their steps were quiet enough to match any predator. “I’m starting to think there’s something you want from me. I wonder what it is?~”

Hero tightened their lips. Maybe they should’ve kept their mouth shut after all. “I’m only asking a question.”

Villain circled them, still putting on their clueless face, “I can’t answer a question if you won’t make it clearer for me.” They shrugged. The enemy was no where in sight, though they could sense Villain stalking behind them.

A ghostly touch climbed up their spine. With their shoulders tense, Hero spun around to face Villain who was only inches from them. “W-what!?” They stammered.

“You always keep me waiting, Hero. Always guessing your motives.” From their expression Hero caught something change, “A never ending cycle of not knowing…”

They sighed, their heart still hammering in their chest, “Did I do something to upset you? To make you stop… with the terms of endearment?”

Lips curled slowly upwards at their questions. “Oh. So you did like them after all.” They chuckled warmly. “Did you enjoy having cute pet names?”

Hero took several steps back, “What? No!”

“Alright. Then I guess there shouldn’t be a problem then if I stop—”

“No, don’t!” It came out unexpectedly from them. It was enough to make Villain’s eyes go wide, and the air to grow thicker.

Their thoughts tugged at them again, they didn’t want Villain to just stop but they also hated to admit they loved it.

“So you don’t want me to stop? Why?” They chuckled.

Damn it. Villain knew exactly what they were doing.

Their mind fumbled to grab the words they needed to play it all naturally.

“Why? Because uhm…”

“C’mon. I know you can say it for me~”

They nervously tapped their foot to the ground, “Fine…” They said through clenched teeth, “I liked it.”

“You mean you loved it, right?”

They nodded.

Their nemesis’ laughter didn’t stop though, it only increased from there. Villain always went overboard with their teasing. “You loved what?” They leaned in closer.

Their hands tightened into a fist this time, eyes shut as their head hung low. It felt so shameful and exhausting to keep this up. “I loved it when… you call me… your love.”

“Aww… so you aren’t as heartless as it seems” Villain lifted Hero’s chin and brushed the hair from their face, “That’s all I needed to hear from you, my little dove.”

Oh, and there it was again. That satisfying tingle against their skin. That rush of dopamine and excitement.

Villain sensed their change in mood and smiled confidently, “You really take advantage of these pet names, don’t you?”

“Only from you.” Their head tilted into Villain’s palm.

~~~

MASTERLIST

#unrequited feelings #writing prompt #imagine your otp #pining prompts #unrequited love #fluff prompt #villain x hero #villainxhero #unrequited love prompts #hero x villain #cute prompts #writing #angst prompt #enemies to lovers #unrequited romance #villain prompt #heroxvillain

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bunniehrtz · 3 months ago

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introducing… PINK PONY CLUB!

molly’s new cowboy!sevika au!

this will work very similar to my mama!abby au (which will be returning!), where i’ll pump out some fics myself and will be taking lots and lots of requests!

i’m so excited to share this with you guys, and for us to work on it together. introductory chapter below the cut! enjoy!!!!!!!!! 🤠

the last drop was bustling, just like every friday night. the musk of oak mixed with whiskey filled the air. you turned your nose up at the smell. well, you would, if it wasn’t for her.

every seat was filled, every gap filled with another person and every glass filled with every liquor under the scorching sun. the pluck of the soft banjo being played contrasted with the deep, husky voices around you. one stood out in particular, it always did.

she stood tall. a good 6’2, you thought. you tried to look away, you tried to steer your eyes from her thick thighs clad perfectly in her jeans, the shine of her belt buckle made your mouth water and the way her toned biceps threatened to burst out of her button up shirt was just too much. the shadow of her hat casted faultlessly just over her heavy eyes. the same eyes flicked over to yours, causing you to immediately turn away, your cheeks red hot. you tried to suppress the thoughts of her thick fingers wrapped around the short glass she held with such power, the way you wished and wished it was you instead- “what’s a lovely lady like yourself doing, standing here all alone?”

an unfamiliar, unwanted voice interrupted your vulgar, yet constant thoughts. your arms crossed over one another, your weight being shifted from each leg as you tried to hide how much you wanted, no, needed the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“i’m sorry, do we know each other?” you asked confused, looking up at the man before you. he stood around the same height as yourself, dark auburn hair tousled underneath a dirty hat. the smell that emanated from him was enough to make you physically grimace, your hand quickly covered your mouth to hide a smirk. a bewildered expression plastered on his face, he stutters. “n-no, but we will, darlin’.”

the scoff that left your throat was loud enough to catch sevika’s attention over the jarring music. you were so obviously uncomfortable, it filled sevika with an untold rage and before she realised, her glass was smacked down onto the bar as she shoved people out of her path to get over to you. to save you.

unbeknownst to you, sevika had had her eyes on you since you first strolled in through the saloon doors, three weeks ago. she had been admiring you every night you wandered in, racking her brain for an excuse to talk to you. just like you.

you were taken aback by the sudden feeling of a hat being placed on your head, an arm wrapped around your waist. you should’ve jumped away, should’ve stood your ground. you didn’t. instead, you looked up and gawked at the sight of sevika stood just behind you, the anger present in her eyes as she looked straight ahead into the man’s eyes, a good half a foot above him. he cowered almost immediately, his knees buckled as he leaned oh so casually against the wall. sevika shifted her gaze from his pathetic stance to your confused, glazed over eyes. “we got a problem here, dollface?”

stunned, you shook your head slightly, your mouth opened to speak before being rudely interrupted.

“no problem here, miss. run along,” he gestured his hand as to tell sevika to move from what’s hers. she patted your hip twice before removing her arm from around you, stepping towards the cowardly man slowly. his face dropped and turned a sickly pale as she towered over him, now stuck in the damp, dingy corner of the saloon. your gasp was barely audible over the sound of his incessant begging.

“i- i didn’t know! i didn’t know she’s yours, i promise!” yours? hers? what is happening?

the scene that played before you felt like you were seeing it in slow motion. you watched hazily as sevika threw him onto a table, watching how it broke and crumbled beneath him as she stood over him. her beaten up boot placed on his chest, your breath hitched in your throat as she bent down, her eyes narrowed as she spits.

“don’t come near my girl or my fuckin’ town ever again.”

you’re not sure how, but you found yourself in between sevika’s legs, herself sat on the now empty bar, in the now clear saloon. a warm rag in your hand, soaked in a makeshift antiseptic to clean the small gash she had received just under her left eye. you don’t remember having seen any punches, scratches or anything land on her face, you were not sure what you remember at all. it felt like a dream. she felt like a dream.

“you okay?” she asked, her voice hoarse as usual. you looked at her with raised eyebrows, shaking your head as you scoff.

“am i okay? you’re the one that got into a bar fight,” you joked back, a sympathetic look on your face as sevika winced at the pain of the antiseptic on the open wound.

“he’s a dick. he shouldn’t have talked to you. he shouldn’t have looked in your fuckin’ direction,” sevika muttered, not noticing the way your bottom lip slipped in between your teeth at her anger.

“all done. how you feeling?” placing the rag back into the bowl, you pushed it aside. sevika pushed herself off of her seat, standing tall in front of you. she pretended to not notice the way you tensed as she placed her hands on your hips, quizzically studying your face.

“let me take you out. tomorrow,” she ordered, nodding up at her hat still placed on your head.

“tomorrow…i think i’m busy,” you flashed a faux pout, only for it to be turned into a flustered smile as sev turns you both, your arms now wrapped around her shoulders.

“oh, you’re busy? doing what?”

“well, he said that ‘we will know each other, darlin’, so think i’m booked for tomorrow. so sad,” you jested, mirroring sevika’s smile as she breathily laughed once more, her eyes narrowed and she nods in artificial agreement.

“oh, i’m sure,” she whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to your soft lips. smiling against your mouth, she pulled away. she lifts her right hand up off your hip, knocking the brim of her hat down, a snort left her lips as it covers your eyes.

“keep this. looks good on you.”

#sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #cowboy au #cowboy!sevika #cowboy #arcane #sevika arcane #lesbian nsft #arcane fanfic #arcane au #lesbian #18+ mdni #lesbian smut #nsft lesbian #wlw nsft #COWBOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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talleyuh · 5 months ago

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just finished the bear season 3 and there is such a collective cognitive dissonance from everywhere from the writing of the show all the way to the social media marketing.

i know i’m biased because i particularly like syd and carmy together, but this season was strange but in different ways than the last season was strange.

not only does carmy take a backseat as a protagonist about halfway through, he and syd have hardly any scenes together, but i think the show almost suffers for it. this season was certainly funnier than the last, but the neil and ted fak got old and old fast. it certainly doesn’t help that even though carmy has a new arc every season, but he doesn’t take the lessons he should’ve learned into how he should act going forward. it’s stunting his growth and now that we have three seasons to compare to one another, it’s only more apparent.

we’ve already talked about how funny characters are stronger than comic relief characters and that’s essentially what the faks are. i really liked neil’s more vulnerable moments where he got to be taken seriously but it’s hard to take him seriously when all of his screen time is him doing stupid shit. also the hauntings thing? it really was not that funny.

also the show is making such an active attempt to rewrite its own history and i don’t understand why. so many little details that connect moments from the past and present to make up who the characters are and yet it’s kind of being thrown out the window.

claire being described as carmy’s peace threw me for a loop because he felt out of place in his own relationship. i think we all know the clip of carmy’s late s2 panic attack where thinking of claire and him together makes it worse but now we are given so many more scenes of when he was happy? what narrative are they trying to spin here? was carmy genuinely in love with claire or mostly disinterested, because it can’t be both.

even claire doesn’t seem interested in being with carmy at this point, and who can blame her?

her presence was just kind of weird to me, because she didn’t really interact with the rest of the cast until the 9th episode. i think her brief hospital scenes were to flesh her out more, but it’s really just creating vulnerabilities and revealing the seams. and because she’s never really been developed as much as everyone else in the series, we’re left with more questions. who was that in her bed? why was she never fired for insane medical malpractice? what is any of this for?

also a lot of the lighting this season has changed. i saw one user (can’t remember who but their post was super interesting) mention how much warmer and inviting the scenes with syd are as opposed to the coolness and almost detachment the scenes with claire were. except we see carmy in cool lighting a lot more this season.

i also wanted to add where carmy gets overwhelmed in the finale, thoughts of claire coming in with a violin sting like a horror movie doesn’t add to the narrative that they keep telling us. that’s another thing i noticed. they tell us how great claire was even though their time together hindered him being involved with his passions and his coworkers, but they retcon things and add scenes of them happy and have carmy tell us how amazing she is but they barely cared to show us.

a huge theme in this show is family and responsibility. and the scene where neil fak said claire could be the one to take care of carmy and vice versa really rubbed me the wrong way. first of all, i think it kind of supports the idea of codependency which isn’t great but i could be reaching. second, carmy isn’t really equipped to take care of anyone and i think the way he interacts with his coworkers when he’s frustrated is proof of that.

don’t get me wrong, i thought this season was amazing television, christopher storer is a brilliant writer and director, joanna calo really should helm more episodes bc ice chips was actually a perfect episode, and ayo getting the opportunity to direct tina’s episode was so amazing and i really hope i see her name in more directorial projects in the near future. but i think we’re getting a little lost in the plot here and losing sight of what the heart of the show is. the literal restaurant. and logically some of the decisions made don’t exactly hold up and i would hate to see this show fumble.

it can’t be a coincidence that so much of the show’s marketing is tied to carmy and syd and i think efforts to trick the audience are actually making the show suffer. or the increasingly less subtle decisions in the editing in the few scenes of them together? are you really gonna gaslight a whole audience for the sake of a misdirect?

#the bear fx #the bear #sydcarmy #chris storer

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bluunxtes · 4 months ago

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nyz - wouldn't trade you for the world

CollegeAu! Ningning x gn!reader Ning Yizhuo stresses over losing losing track of you at a party due to past experiences.

warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk people, mentions of cheating and shitty exes.

word count: 507

a/n: hihi i'm not dead -yet lmao. sorry. been working on some stuff, still figuring out how i wanna lay things out, srry not v good at picking out pics for the header ajdhaljkdfakl. hope y'all r doing well. sorry if there's any grammatical errors and all that. also any feedback is greatly appreciated!

“Fuck” Ningning whispered to herself as she squeezed her way through the crowded room filled with drunk college goers.

Worry filled her stomach as she looked around the frat house hoping that history wouldn’t repeat itself. As much she wanted to trust you, Ningning couldn’t help but worry that instead of getting drinks like you said you would, she would find you with your tongue down some girl’s throat like she did with her last asshat of a boyfriend.

“Hey Aeri! Have you seen y/n?” Ningning screamed over the ridiculously loud music emanating from the large Bluetooth speakers scattered around the house.

“Ninnnggg! You look so stressed. You look liii-ke you need a drink girlll!” Aeri slurred, clearly not catching what the other girl asked her.

Ningning groaned at the drunk girl’s response, pulling her in closer to repeat the question.

“Aeri! Have you seen y/n? I lost them in the crowd, and I can’t find them anywhere!” Ningning frustratingly yelled.

Aeri’s eyes slowly grew wider as the words processed through her intoxicated brain.

“Y/n? You don’t think—”

“I’m trying not to!” Ningning shouted, interrupting the older of the two.

Ningning was trying her best to relax but it felt like worms were trying to eat their way through her guts, with how anxious she was feeling.

“I think I saw them in the living room! Near the snacks!”

Ningning quickly thanked her and bolted towards said area before the drunk girl could get another word in. The worst possible scenarios began running throughout her head as she got closer and closer to the snack table beside the dark green couches. Her height didn’t really help in the situation either, since it only made it harder to see in crowds of people moving in and out of the building. Her eyes instantly lit up after seeing the familiar red hoodie sitting on a L-sectional sofa as she scanned the surrounding area.

“Y/n!” Ningning called out while weaving between the mass of moving bodies in the room.

A wave relief came to her as she laid her eyes on you. The scene would have been comical if she weren’t so worried earlier.

“Hey Baby.” You mumbled guiltily, looking up with a mouthful of food.

“Yah! Where were you?" You had me so worried, you idiot!” Ningning says, shoving you.

“Sorry, I got distracted by the chicken buffalo dip. You want some?” You ask, holding up the crock pot that was in your lap.

Ningning gave one look to the puppy dog eyes you gave her and flicked your forehead.

“You should’ve at least said something so I wouldn’t have gotten so worried.” She sighed, nudging you over so she could sit down next to you.

“Sorry, baby. All my thoughts left my mind once I saw food.” You replied sheepishly, holding up a chip with buffalo chicken dip in front of her mouth.

Ningning rolled her eyes at the response but opened her mouth regardless. Despite all your idiotic tendencies, she wouldn’t trade you for the world.

#ningning x reader #ning yizhuo x reader #gn reader #ningning x gn!reader #ning yizhuo x gn!reader #aespa x reader #aespa #college au

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qwimblenorrisstan · 21 days ago

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Cocooned | Cassian x Reader x Azriel

Day 23: Stormy Night w/ Cassian + Day 24: Dark Sunrise w/ Azriel

Summary: During a storm, you cuddle up with Cassian, and reminisce about Azriel.

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: thunder, knives, being attacked, nightmares, ptsd, cuddles

A/N: once again combining two days bc I’m behind+not patient enough to write two of these suckers in one day, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It was as soon as the thunder crashed down from the swirling clouds, loud and screaming, that you jolted awake.

It wasn’t often you had nightmares, but you had tonight, and the storm that had been looming on the horizon for days finally arriving wasn’t helping. You were all alone in your room, the curtains flapping a bit despite the fact that the windows were closed tight. The fabric almost seemed to be waving you over to the door that was just slightly open, not too much.

The toys that were left on the floor seemed to be mocking you almost, beady stuffed animal eyes watching with a blank stare, some covered by the dirty clothes that you’d yet to put together in a basket and ask the House to clean.

Another peal of thunder.

You sat up in your bed, blankets gathering at your waist while you pulled your legs over the side of the mattress, feet hitting the floor as you quietly padded over to your door, opening it all the way, slipping out. The House lit a few small lights for you as you walked down the hallways, extinguishing them once you weren’t within eyesight of them anymore.

The sky cracked open once again, and you saw the flash of light coming in from the window.

You shivered.

His room wasn’t far, though. Just a few more steps on the thick, worn carpet and his wooden door was waiting in front of you. You raised your hand, fist pulled together, knuckles bracing, but you hesitated before finally knocking.

You waited. He didn’t come.

Finally, after another strike of the thunder, you decided that you’d waited long enough, and opened the door. You walked in on the scene of Cassian and Azriel cuddled up together, both only wearing boxers. Cassian’s wings were curled around Azriel, spooning him, his head shoved into his neck, while Azriel had curled his wings around himself.

They both must’ve been in a deep sleep considering how quickly they usually woke up when exposed to any sound at all. You could still remember the time you’d accidentally woken Azriel, not even having meant to, only trying to snatch one of his jackets to wear on a particularly cold day when Cassian had been off in the Illyrian camps, fighting with Devlon, per usual.

He was asleep. Or you thought he was.

His eyes were closed, and breathing deeply, and even, his body was completely relaxed. His wings were draped across the bed, blanket kicked to the floor like you assumed he did in his sleep.

You could see the gleam of Truth-Teller from under his pillow where he always kept it, along with a myriad of other weapons.

The hoodie was within sight. Just draped over the end of his bed. All you had to do was tiptoe over to it, grab it, and leave like you’d never been there. It should’ve been easy, in hindsight, but it had been anything but.

You’d held your breath, rolling on the balls of your feet as you rose onto your toes, walking very quietly to it, timing your steps to his breathing.

Breathe in, stay still.

Breathe out, move.

A few more breaths and you were almost there. You leaned forward, reaching for it, nearly there, when you saw it.

He moved faster than he should’ve been able to; soundlessly, not even a hint of a warning before your body was on the floor and his dagger was against your throat, pushing against your Carotid, your heart beating out of your chest.

“Az,”

You whispered almost frantically, watching as his chest heaved, eyes wide and darting around like an animal’s. He looked lost. Confused, even.

“Azriel,”

You repeated, a bit more insistently, hands escaping his grasp that was growing gentler by the second, his body slowly realizing that he wasn’t in danger while his mind caught up.

“You’re…not..”

He mumbled to himself, blade clattering to the floor with a clang as he scrambled backward, body now shaking and shuddering as his hands violently trembled, muscles twitching.

He moved his hands to cover his eyes, hiding behind them before his knees tucked into his chest, and his wings curled around his body tightly like a cocoon.

He wept.

You sat and listened, and quietly moved closer, sitting next to him against the bed frame, not saying a word until he whispered an apology, and you just nodded. You understood. No further words needed to be exchanged.

You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Walking quietly up to the bed, you chose to snuggle up with Cassian, lifting the blanket just enough that he groggily groaned, raising a brow and squinting his eyes, seeing you there, and giving a little grunt. Azriel still didn’t wake. Cassian was waking up a little bit more, at least a bit conscious as you pulled the blanket back over yourself, scooting up to the living heater, spooning him as you slid one arm under his muscled body, the other going around his torso.

Shoving your head into his neck, he didn’t say anything, not till he felt you flinch from the next loud clap of thunder, curling further into him in an attempt to hide.

“I don’t like it either.”

He whispered, and you glanced at him, trying to see if he was mocking you or not. But he wasn’t. Cassian, one of the strongest Illyrians in history, General of Night Court, Lord of Bloodshed, was also afraid of lightning.

“Never liked it when I was little, Rhys would always make fun of me. Still don’t like it.”

He mumbled, clearly slipping back into unconsciousness, but still just present enough to shift his wing around you, cocooning you into their tight embrace.

Not even a second later, he was lightly snoring, and you relaxed into his warm body, slowly melting into him as you decided that, for the foreseeable future, Cassian was the one you’d go to on the stormy nights. And maybe you’d get an added bonus of Azriel there some night, too.

Who knows.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

@flufftober

#writers on tumblr #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x cassian x reader #cassian fluff #cassian x you #cassian x azriel #a court of thorns and roses #angstober 2024 #angstober #flufftober2024 #flufftober

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unluckilyimnot · 9 months ago

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ANYTHING WITH SAE PLSSSS

love me back

itoshi sae x reader | fluff | 2.5k | in which you're sure sae, your crush, loves you back but you just can't ask college AU

m.list || rules || requests are open :)

note: anything you said, let's go then ig + stream love me back by fromis_9 thank you so much <3

“I think we could add this as well,” Sae mentioned, pointing to another part of the outline you two did in your notebook for your incoming presentation in literature class. You nodded and he started typing on his laptop while you prepared your speech. It wasn’t the first work you two did together, but you chose to be partners this time. The first time, the teacher chose the duo or trio and you two happened to work very well together, so as soon as another presentation was mentioned, Sae came to ask you to be his partner. Yes, you were shocked. Did you say yes without thinking twice ? Also yes.

There’s just something about him that captivated you, and you know you’re not the only one to think so. Yet, he was still in your room, sitting in your bed next to you and, yes you may be a little delusional since it was to work together but a part of you was proud of it. It’s in the way his eyes lays patiently on you when he waits for you to answer and there’s something inside you telling you that, maybe, he likes you too.

“But you see,” you muttered, taking your head in your hand and trying to stay focused. “I don’t see how we can connect that with it.” You’re pouting at your paper, tapping repetitively your pen on your notes, not even really talking to him but mostly to yourself. You couldn’t figure out how to connect the two dots and it was getting on your nerves. You sigh and the typing sound stops.

“Look,” Sae took off the pen of your hands and started to explain one by one the points to connect with his. Touching your fingers in the process. You learn quickly that he hates physical contact when a friendly guy tapped his shoulder once and Sae almost started a fight, but he’s okay with touching you ? Your heart started beating a little too fast in your rib-cage, but you had to listen to him. He leans toward you to scribble something and if you didn’t catch his cologne at first, you clearly did now. You felt like caving in, resting your head on his shoulder for a second and letting your body relax. You know there’s something wrong but at the same time it seems so simple to be around him.

“You’re tired aren't you ?” he asked quietly, making you blink a few times. Are you ? You tilt your head to the side, looking at him in the eyes. There’s something sweet in his gaze, longing in a way, he didn’t break eye contact easily and you can feel your cheeks heating up. “Let’s stop there for today. We still have time, take some rest.” he added in a sigh.

He started closing his laptop, gathering all his belongings and putting it back in his bag but you can’t move to help. He didn’t even let you say a thing and a sad wave hit you at the idea of him leaving this early. You liked it more than you should’ve, those few hours. Before he left, he grabbed something from his bag this time.

“There, for inviting me over.” You finally looked up at him to see him handing you some snacks. Your favorite. Your eyes widened, that’s the same you bring around at the library when you work there or in class. Taking it carefully, you’re about to thank him when his hand pat your head.

“Sleep a little, ok ?” With that, he left your place without saying goodbye and leaving you a blushing mess, rolling over in your bed. You replay the scene in your head, hugging your pillow with the faith feeling of his hand longing on your head and you swear it feels like a dream.

“You’re so delusional,” your best friend says, rolling her eyes at you. You just explained to her that you can feel there’s something between you and Sae, you know it, but she surely doesn’t trust you. “I mean, I agree that he surely knows about your crush since you don’t even try to hide it but that doesn’t mean he likes you back.” she added, sipping on her ice cappuccino.

“I’m sure he does ! You don’t get it,” you whined. “He’s not cold with me like you guys see him. He’s caring, really.”

“Yeah and I think you’re imagining it because you’re too down bad.” You scoffed at her, looking away and cooling yourself down before you snapped.

“Say that one who had a crush on an asshole.” you defended. “But at least I stayed on your side !”

“Okay I’m listening ! Tell me how caring he is.” she demanded sarcastically, pretty sure you wouldn’t have any evidence. You gulped hard as she put her face in her hand with a knowing gaze. You know damn well it won’t be enough for her who’s used to explicit gestures, but you still bring up your last study session at your place, how he smiles – and even laughs sometimes – when you take small breaks outside the library. She started to become interested, so you showed her the last text he sent you, asking if you felt better.

In the end she trusted you and got a little too excited about it. She almost stole your phone to read more text messages but you quickly brought it back to your chest. Her eyes sparkled. “Are you hiding something ?!” she screamed, thankfully you were outside the coffee shop, waiting for someone.

“No !” you shouted back, your cheeks hot and flustered. You’re ready to argue with her, defending your privacy with your life when her eyes shift from you to something behind you. Well someone seems more adequate. Two voices could be heard and an arm fell hard over your shoulders. Tabito took the place beside your friend, a warm smile on his lips and you could tell she was in love with it. Well him, in general but she had such a bad experience that she takes it slow now. The arm around your shoulders belonged to Eita, Tabito’s friend, who happened to like you a lot, let’s say.

“Ready for the week-end ?” Eita cheered, confident and with a huge smile. She nodded happily before looking at you.

“Did you find someone in the end?” she urged, blinking rapidly at you. This week-end, Tabito planned a date with your friend, but since she was still a bit shy, she asked you to come with someone too so you could tag along without being the third wheel. Well, Eita was coming as well, but you didn’t want to spend the day with him alone.

“I’m still there if needed.” He winked at you but only answered with an awkward laugh.

“I’m waiting for a call… I’ll tell you later.” Of course you asked Sae last week, but you knew he was quite busy and he seems to avoid your text. It felt like a treason if you were being honest but you couldn’t just show it. Or expect anything for him. Maybe you were in fact delusional, maybe he was just friendly with someone for once and it happened to be you.

11 in the morning, you were walking around in front of the gate of the amusement park. Chewing on your nail, you clench your jaw while checking your phone one more time. No text, no call, nothing.

“You’re sure he’s coming ?” asked your friend. She tried to sound friendly but worries could be heard in her voice.

“Yeah let’s just wait a little more please.” you begged. You were sure he was coming, even if your friend shook her head at your words. You received a message last night, Sae telling you he was coming and you were ready to wait all day for him if you had to ; but not your friends. Taking your phone again, you stepped a little aside while the ringtone resonated in your ear. You were begging in your head for him to answer. Then it stopped.

“Sae ? Where are you ? I’m not sure they’re gonna wait any longer. Tell me –”

“Turn around.” He cut your nervously fast speech without hesitation. When you did as he said, you could see him on his way, phone in one hand, waving to you with the other. Your jaw dropped slightly : he was handsome. Wearing a full black outfit with some shorts, all you could do was stare a little before he hung up and finally met you and stopped in his tracks. “You coming ?” he asked, his head showing you your friends waiting. You hummed, stepping side by side with him.

Your best friend couldn’t believe it at first and she kept on glancing at you not secretly but you couldn’t blame her. You were on a cloud as well. He accepted a date with you, if that wasn’t enough to confirm that he likes you too. Yet in the end, she stayed focused on enjoying her afternoon with Tabito when you mainly stayed in the back of the group with Sae. They weren’t subtle in any kind of way, making you giggle a little every time he touched her because she would wildly smile at you as if she just won the lottery. You were happy it was going well for her, she deserves it.

Walking around the park, sometimes running to another attraction one of them couldn't wait to go, you had a hard time to follow them sometimes. You barely had the time to get out of the ride that you just took that your friend was already rushing Tabito to another one with Eita. You couldn’t even catch your breath.

Letting a noisy whine escape your mouth to seek their attention, Sae took your wrist gently, pulling you ahead with him to catch them. Suddenly, nothing was bothering you anymore, not your hot cheeks or even running around the park in this heat for something you didn’t really like. The only thing on your mind was Sae’s hand almost touching yours and a laughter left your lips.

Sae looked back, surprised to hear you laugh when you were complaining a second earlier but didn’t say anything, only the shadow of a smile on his lips. When you stopped in front of the new ride and he let go of your wrist, you heard him sigh. You tilted your head at him, brushing your fingers against his.

“You okay ?”

“I’m not really in the mood for one like this.” he shrugs, looking down at you. “Wanna eat something instead ?”

“Yes !” you didn’t hesitate, not in the mood either and you answering that quickly made him scoff – not in a mean way, he clearly seemed amused and your heart raced up, a silly grin on your lips. Without thinking, you grab his hand.

“Say, we’re gonna grab something to eat !” you screamed to let them know. “We’ll catch up later !” You waved at them before turning around, following Sae who took the lead. You looked around at anything that looked like a food truck in silence. He didn’t look at you, you didn’t look at him, yet he didn’t try to pull his hand off for the moment. Honestly you weren’t able to put a word on what was going on inside you, but if you could, you’ll squeak like a little mouse happy to exist.

After a few more minutes, you spotted where the food was and before you could think about it, you had a wonderful waffle in your hands. Sitting somewhere, hiding away from the sun burning your skin, you enjoying your waffle and Sae his crepe. He took a picture before taking his first bite.

“Is it for Rin ?” you exclaimed, before taking a pose. “Take a picture of me too ! You can send him too.” He grinned softly before the click sound was heard, and there it goes.

“Yes it’s for Rin, and my mom. She kept asking where I was going.” he confessed, sending it to you as well you guessed because your phone rang. You nodded, deeply appreciating the fact that he mentioned his family a little. You didn’t know until now if you could ask about them or not.

Before you could ask a bit more about her, three shadows appeared in front of you and you burst into laughter at your friend’s face. She looked like she just cried or saw a ghost, but it was unforgettable. No need to ask if the ride was fun, it clearly wasn’t. After they took a small snack as well, everyone was ready to keep on.

At the end of the day, your friend was exhausted, just as everyone, but she got even more clingy to her soon-to-be-boyfriend, if they haven’t already secretly kissed throughout the day. On the other hand you were stuck with the fact you two only held hands, even if it was enough for you, for how long would it be ? It was impossible to let him go without asking him, your feelings for him getting hard to keep to yourself and you already showed it enough, didn’t you ?

You slowed down your pace a little, expecting from Sae to follow you, which he does. You remained silent for a while, until the exit to be honest, not really sure about how you’ll put that sentence together.

“What’s on your mind ?” Sae ruined any, even slight, confidence building inside you and an awkward laughter escaped your mouth.

“Nothing.” you lied, smiling at him before trying to pull him to start walking again. He didn’t move an inch, staring into your eyes, waiting for an answer. You couldn't give him one, not anymore, so you pulled his sleeve a little more with an encouraging smile ; like asking a child to follow you and not make a scene. He was a complicated child, so he pulled on his side and you almost fell on him, surprised by the strength he put into this. “You’re rarely so mindful and down, what’s up?”

You know what ? He’s right. That’s not really the best timing for hesitation. Not after taking his hand out of nowhere for half a day.

“Do you love me back ?” you confessed, not daring to look at him. His shirt never seemed so attractive and the rough fabric of his jacket rested comfortably between your fingers. You’re not sure if you wanna hear the answer in the end, but it’s too late for that now. So you wait, patiently, a ball of stress forming in your stomach and you’re ready to head home in tears. You were so confident a few days ago, even a few seconds ago – you wonder where it went. It all ended in a whisper.

“I do.” his breath tickles your ear and soon a peck was left on your cheek. “Let’s go, they’re waiting for us.”

He took your hand again and it never felt so good before. You couldn’t talk, didn’t add anything but your smile says it all.

I hope you liked it ! ♡

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #sae fluff #sae headcanons #sae x reader

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polkadotpenguin16 · 2 months ago

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All the Days of My Life

A/N: Guess who's already back with another story! This one's much shorter, I promise. This was inspired by a Reddit post I once read and my friend getting married last week. Thank you, as always, to @misscharlielulu and @escapingrealtiylovinginsanity for reading my drafts and making them better.

Pairing: Sonny Carisi x female reader

Word count: 1K

Also posted on AO3

It was a chilly fall evening, so you made some soup while waiting for Sonny to come home from work. While cooking was more his thing, it made you happy to do something special for your husband. You’d only been married less than a month, but you’d already grown accustomed to your new titles, husband and wife. That magical feeling from your wedding day still hadn’t quite worn off yet. Which you knew was ridiculous since nothing really changed that day. You’d already pledged your love for each other long ago and lived together for many years before tying the knot. But nonetheless, you bore the name Mrs. Carisi with pride.

You turned around when you heard the door click, greeting Sonny with a smile. “Hey, sweetheart, how was your day?” You looked over your shoulder as you continued to stir your pot.

“Eh, you know, the usual.” He sidled up beside you and kissed your temple. You leaned into him, trying to capture some of the warmth radiating off of him. You’d always call him your own personal space heater. A blessing in the colder months, but a curse in summer due to the amount of cuddles required to keep him happy.

“Fighting crime? Saving lives?”

He groaned at your remark. “More like interviewing creeps and filing paperwork.”

Sonny went through his routine of hanging his coat, locking up his gun, and pulling his phone out of his jacket. He snapped his finger as he realized he’d almost forgotten something. He rummaged through his pocket and fished something out before walking over and handing it to you.

You opened your palm to see that he’d given you his wedding band.

You stood there puzzled, staring down at the shiny thing. Confused about why he wasn’t wearing his ring, but even more so why he handed it to you. You racked your brain for some kind of logical explanation but were coming up blank. “Um…what’s this?”

Sonny looked at you incredulously. “What do you mean? It’s my wedding ring.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his brilliant answer. “I can see that, silly, but why is it in my hand and not on your finger?” You asked as your eyes darted between him and the ring in your hand.

Sonny made a sour face as flashes of his earlier case raced through his mind. Even the delicious aroma of your soup wasn’t strong enough to overpower the memory of the smell. “Was at a gnarly crime scene this morning. I took it off to scrub my hands when we got back to the station. Rubber gloves aren’t 100% effective, ya know.”

Your husband, the germaphobe. He held his left hand in front of you, and you finally understood what he was wanting. “Oh, you can’t be serious. You’re asking me to put your ring back on?” You knew Sonny was a sentimental sap with a heart of mush, but this was next level, even for him.

“You’re my wife. I’m pretty sure that was in our vows.” He still had his arm extended in front of you as he nodded towards his hand trying to encourage you to put it back on.

You covered your face to stifle your involuntary giggles. “I don’t remember ‘putting a grown man’s ring on whenever he takes it off’ as part of the gig.”

“Should’ve read the contract more closely, doll.” He tsked at you as he shook his head. “And I’m afraid—” He grabbed your left hand and pointed at your own ring. “There’s no returns or exchanges on this deal.”

You couldn’t help yourself but smirk at his reasoning. You humor the poor man with an overdramatic huff, returning his wedding ring back to his ring finger. “So I guess I’m gonna be doing this forever now, aren’t I?” Your voice raised sarcastically.

Sonny brought your hand to his face to kiss your matching band. “For all the days of my life.”

All the days of my life.

That was a part of your wedding vows. You internally rolled your eyes at how disgustingly cheesy this all was, but you couldn’t help but stare at this man in wonder. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have found someone who loved you so much, so completely, that he wouldn’t feel right if it wasn’t you who was putting on his wedding ring.

The symbol of his love and commitment to you.

Well, you did promise for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. You supposed you could live with putting Sonny’s ring back on for you the rest of your life.

And from then on, you did just that. Every single time, you slipped Sonny’s ring back on his finger each time he took it off, no matter how silly the reason. Like whenever he was mixing ground meat to make fresh meatballs for spaghetti night. Or when you were packing to move to a new apartment and he didn’t want it to get scratched. Even when he was worried about getting electrocuted while trying to fix the light switch.

“What, you wanna be a widow already, doll?”

Then there was the time Sonny had acute appendicitis and needed emergency surgery. He woke up groggily in a hospital room, not completely remembering why he was there. Through his haze, he looked around the room, trying to put the pieces together when he noticed you sitting beside his bed. You gave him a warm, familiar smile, and he immediately felt more at ease.

“Hey, tough guy. How you feeling?”

He mustered up all his strength to groan out, “Tired.”

“I bet you are.” Your 6’ tall ‘superman’ looked so fragile lying in that bed, hooked up to various wires and tubes. A brutal reminder that he wasn’t, in fact, an indestructible superhero. But a mortal human whose life could vanish in an instant. “I have something for you.” You reached behind your neck to unclasp the necklace you were wearing. You fiddled with the chain and pulled off a ring.

His wedding ring.

You’d kept it close to your heart when he was in surgery, ready to give it back to him when he woke up. You took his left hand and returned the ring to its rightful place. He looked up at you with dopey, puppy dog eyes, his heart completely filled.

“What, did you think I’d forget?” You asked with a wink.

“Thank you, doll.” He looked down at his ring and gently squeezed your hand. “For always putting it back on.”

“And always will. All the days of my life.”

#oh god she writes now #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x you #sonny carisi imagine #dominick carisi #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #svu

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waynes-multiverse · 6 months ago

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Polaris – Chapter 3

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, a muder case, funerals, drinking, hurt, fluff, smut

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: This week we have heavy relationship stuff, Cassie/Jenny shenanigans, and a full dive into our murder mystery 🤓 Or did you forget about the serial killer on the loose? 👀

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 3: Pour The Whiskey

The sky was vanilla when the sun finally set behind the Montana mountains, the first stars appearing above and announcing the night. You pushed the driver’s door of your SUV shut and trudged back to the motel for a change of clothes before meeting up with Jenny, Cassie, and Beau for drinks.

You’d been apprehensive about spending the evening with him but knew you couldn’t exclude him. Not forever, at least. It was his home, his friends. You were just a guest here, and you didn’t mind him coming as long as you had the two women as a buffer. You would just have to ignore the stinging in your heart all night. Easy.

Mindless and tired, you unlocked the door before your heels hit something rustling on the shabby doormat. As you glanced down, you found a brown envelope with your name in bold, black letters on it. Your stomach churned. You knew what it was and what you’d find inside.

There had been another victim.

Beau’s heart thumped in his ribcage as he entered the bar. It was a full Friday night, most of Helena ringing in the weekend at the Boot Heel as he looked around the crowd for you and his friends. He hoped Jenny was right, and he could use the evening as an opportunity to talk to you and explain everything – right a few wrongs.

As he spied the three of you at a table in a corner booth, he frowned at the laptop propped open in the middle between all of you. He didn’t expect you to bring work to drinks tonight, but on second thought, he should’ve guessed as much. Relaxing had never been high on your list when you were on the job.

“Guys, c’mon, really? What is this?” Beau asked with a teasing smile. His brow scrunched, however, as he gestured at the computer. “I thought we’re here to have fun.”

“There’s been another victim,” Jenny said without missing a beat and shot him a look that told him to rein in the humor.

Beau’s mouth opened in surprise and then closed for a lack of words, exhaling a breath through his freckled nose. He for sure hadn’t expected that answer.

“We figured you might care since you’re the sheriff and all,” you deadpanned without lifting a single eye at him, which earned you a small glare from him as he sat down next to you.

Jenny and Cassie had cleverly taken seats next to each other, so you were left to sit next to Beau. And thereby went your plan to use them as a buffer tonight. So much for female support. His friends, you reminded yourself.

Fortunately, a new murder victim was also a good excuse to be distracted and not deal with your love life.

“Why didn’t you guys call me there was a new body? Shouldn’t we, you know, go to the crime scene?” Beau looked at you three confused.

“There’s no body yet,” Cassie replied.

His brow creased even more. “Then how do you know there’s been another victim?”

You turned the laptop toward him as a video flickered across the screen. Leaning closer, he squinted his eyes at the content before glancing at you. His brow quirked in confusion. “What am I looking at here? What’s this?”

“The killer always sends video material of the victim’s last forty-eight hours,” you explained.

“We’ve never gotten a video before,” Beau said and looked at Jenny for confirmation, who shook her head.

“Because the killer has been sending them to the FBI. First to the field office in Houston and then to me specifically,” you informed him.

Beau’s look darkened, his features hardening, except for a twitch of his nostril. You could guess what he was thinking as he read between the lines of your words. “What do you mean 'you specifically'? Where was this sent to? The station?”

You exhaled a weary breath. “When the case got assigned to me, the envelopes started getting directly addressed to me and delivered to my desk at the office. This one was delivered by my doorstep at the motel.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Beau’s green eyes widened, his entire body flooding with worry. “Y/N–”

“It’s not unusual,” you interjected quickly. “Our profiler thinks we’re dealing with a narcissistic psychopath. They’re sensation seekers and exhibit a need for control. Communicating directly with me is our subject’s way of controlling the narrative,” you explained but could tell your answer didn’t soothe him in the slightest.

“That’s not the point I was tryna make,” he grunted. “You can’t stay at that motel.”

“I know,” you agreed. “Cassie already offered me her guest room.”

“Yeah, and I’m an empty nester with plenty of space, too,” Jenny added and swiftly turned to her beer upon Beau’s frustrated look.

“Oh… Great, so plenty of options,” Beau grumbled but caught himself quickly, recovering with a tight smile. “Good…”

There went his plan to ask you to stay with him. He had by far the smallest place, but his hope was that you wouldn’t have needed more than a bed. Preferably his. And although he trusted Jenny and Cassie, it still bothered him that he couldn’t keep an eye on you himself. It wasn’t like he’d even insist on sharing a bed with you. He’d take the couch or even a goddamn patio chair outside as long as he knew that you were safe.

“Do I need to worry about you being a target?” Beau’s eyes found yours and held your gaze. You could’ve sworn you heard his heart beating faster in his chest.

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied and tried to sound as reassuring as possible. It didn’t work, however.

His brow raised as he retorted sarcastically, “Oh, you don’t think so. Well, that’s comforting.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

You sighed. “Look, the murder victims are all females in different age ranges. What they have in common, though, is that they are all married to a spouse who stepped out on them. The true targets were always the cheating husbands.”

“Why?” Beau’s brow furrowed. All he knew so far about the case was that three female bodies turned up dead at crossroads. He knew their names; he knew their families. Now, there was a fourth.

What he didn’t know was the who, what, how, or why. That was your area of expertise.

“The crossroads? It’s supposed to show that the women chose the wrong path. They stayed with their cheating partners,” you clarified. “On the other hand–”

“–their spouses get punished for getting their loved ones killed,” Beau finished. He rubbed his bearded chin, pointing at the laptop screen. “And what’s the theory with the videos?”

“They’re essentially held in an escape room. The women get locked in a bunker with a box of tools. If they find the right way out, they walk free. If not, their body is dumped at a crossroads after they’ve run out of oxygen. They’re basically buried alive,” you said.

“You ever found the bunker? Has anyone ever escaped?” Beau asked.

You shook your head and spoke quieter. “No, we’ve never found them. Based on the videos, we think there’s more than one location, especially since the subject has hit five states so far, including Montana. We assume the recordings’ purpose is to torture the husbands. A copy of it always gets sent to a partner, so they witness the suffering they’ve caused.” Letting out a sharp exhale, you continued, “And no, no one has ever escaped. We’re not sure if it’s even possible. It might just be a sadistic torture method as well.”

“Make ‘em believe they can get out when they really can’t,” Beau concluded grimly and chewed on his lower lip before flashing a cynical smile. “Well, ain’t that a fun one…”

“We think the killer is highly intelligent and organized,” Jenny said.

“Yeah, and they’re probably keeping tabs on us. They know we’re working the case,” you added and glanced around the patrons of the Boot Heel. The killer might even be in this bar with you. It wasn’t unlikely they followed you here from the motel. As inconspicuous as you tried to be, Beau still caught your little areal scan.

“That didn’t answer my question, though,” Beau then said and looked deeply into your eyes, his brow stern. “Do I need to be worried? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, I’m itchin’ to put protection detail on you.”

“Who, Poppernak?” you quipped, but Beau didn’t laugh. “And no, no need to worry. I don’t fit the victimology,” you told him with a poker face. It was the truth. What you left out, however, was that you’d always be a potential target, no matter what the victim’s profile said. You were on a killer’s radar. Hell, your whole job was to be in harm’s way.

Luckily, your phone buzzed on the table, saving you from more questions and drilling looks. Beau was smart and a good detective. You knew he could see right through you.

“Excuse me, it’s my DA in Houston. I have to get this,” you said and stood up from the table.

“Ugh, Ted…” Beau groaned and dramatically rolled his eyes back.

“You’re a child,” you scolded him. “What d’you have against Ted? He’s a good attorney.”

“He’s a douche, and he sucks,” Beau declared with a huff.

You sent him a glare. “You’re just saying that ‘cause we dated briefly.”

“Nope, already didn’t like that slimy coyote before that,” Beau maintained. “Neither did Randy, by the way.”

“Wow, okay…” You scoffed, tongue poking your cheek as you shook your head. “I’m gonna take this outside,” you said with a glower and then fled through the doors of the restaurant to the quiet street.

“Y/N, wait–” Beau tried to stop you, but you had already stormed out and couldn’t hear him anymore. The sheriff then pursed his lips and exhaled a deep sigh.

“Stepped in it again, huh?” Cassie threw him a sympathetic look.

Beau ran a palm over his freckled face, his lips in a tight line. “Big time.”

“Well, she’s got good taste,” Jenny remarked as she looked at her phone before holding it up for Cassie to see.

“Not bad,” Cassie agreed with a low whistle and smirked.

Beau caught a glimpse of the screen, seeing Ted’s stupid face looking right back at him, and scowled at the women. “Really? Well, thanks for the knife in my back. Who’s side are you two on, huh?”

“Aw, Beau, we’re just having fun.” Cassie chuckled in amusement.

“Yeah, well, he’s not that good-looking up close, by the way,” Beau retorted, trying to keep his jealousy at bay. “He just photographs well.”

“He’s cute when he’s jealous,” Jenny said to Cassie, who nodded in agreement.

Beau scoffed. “I’m not jealous.”

“Did Ted make it onto your punch list?” Cassie asked jokingly.

“Oh, you bet he did,” Beau replied with a huff.

“So… is he the new Avery now?” Jenny teased and arched a brow. The two women looked at him expectantly.

Beau narrowed his eyes at them. “I hate you both. I really do.”

“That’s a yes,” Jenny surmised, and both women broke into laughter on Beau’s dime.

But he was a good sport and could take a little teasing. Besides, he really did wish to punch Ted’s face. He knew the guy had held a torch for you for years.

“So, Y/N knew your old partner, too?” Cassie asked and hauled him back from his revenge fantasies.

“Yeah, kinda…”

Beau swallowed the shameful lump in his throat and licked his lips, bobbing his head. He probably had to tell them eventually. The truth would surely come out at some point.

His green eyes drifted to the glass of whiskey in front of Cassie. “You mind, uh–” He gestured at the drink but didn’t wait for a reply. He grabbed the glass and downed it in one go.

The girls shared a raised look.

The alcohol burned right through him and numbed the twinge in his heart. He cleared his throat but didn’t look at them, keeping his eyes trained on the glass in his hands as he spoke.

“Yeah, uh, she was his wife.”

His confession was followed by deafening silence, the loud music and chatter of the bar drowning out. Realization dawned on both women’s features as they let the words sink in.

Cassie was the first to speak, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “I don’t-… You never said anything about this during grief counseling.”

Beau nodded and smacked his lips, still avoiding to look at them. “Yeah, well, it’s not somethin’ I’m exactly proud of.”

“I get that,” Jenny said after a pause. “But Beau, we would’ve understood. We wouldn’t have judged you.”

“Yeah,” Cassie subscribed and reached out her hand, clasping his. “And we still don’t.”

“Thanks, but I judge myself plenty enough. Trust me,” Beau said somberly and flashed them a sad smile.

As you ambled back to the table, you took immediate note of what you could only classify as a strange vibe. Everyone’s faces looked austere and bleak. So, naturally, you tried to lighten the mood.

“What happened here?” You cocked a brow and tilted your head at the three with a chuckle. “You guys look like you’re at a funeral.”

Beau snorted humorlessly and set down the empty glass in his hand, rising from his seat. “I’m gonna need more of where this came from. ‘Scuse me,” he said and made a beeline for the bar.

Mouth ajar, you stared after him, wondering if you’d said something wrong.

August 2020

The door swung wide open and hit the wall with a loud bang that surely rattled the entire church as you burst into the small back room. Your jaw tightened when you finally found him, sitting on the cold tiles with a bottle of bourbon in his hands, leaning against the wall.

His green eyes looked up, red and glazed, and found yours. Your chest heaved with every surge of anger that rumbled through your body.

“What the hell?” you yelled. He flinched at the sound of your voice. The unshed tears in your eyes threatened to choke you, but you were too livid to let them free. “Where were you? Were you here this whole fucking time? Getting drunk? You were supposed to give the eulogy!”

Beau hung his head in his hands before dragging a palm over his face, the tears stinging his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in over a week and drank a whole liquor store. His body was shaking, his voice trembling. “I-I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry…”

“You’re sorry?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You were supposed to be there for me. You promised.” A few tears finally escaped and rolled down your cheeks. You wiped them away with your palm. “Guess I shoulda known your word isn’t worth a fucking dime.”

You stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind you.

That’s when Beau broke down, sobs wracking through his entire body. Your disappointment was the last straw for him. This was rock bottom. There was nothing lower than the frigid, unforgiving rocks he found himself falling on. The ones that cracked his skull, broke his bones, and shattered his heart. He had built this prison with his own two hands, rock by fucking rock.

Anger rose in his chest and threatened to tear him apart at the seams till his soul spilled out through the cracks. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror anymore. He didn’t recognize the stranger staring back at him. Neither did his family. The only thing he was good at these days was letting people down.

The bottle in his shaking hands then flew across the room and smashed against the wall, shatters of glass and pools of liquor littering the floor.

He was a fucking mess, but he had to make it right. At least by you.

Your hand softly settled on his shoulder as you approached him by the bar counter. He was nursing a whiskey and avoided looking at you. You exhaled a deep breath before you spoke. “So, I’m guessing by the wide eyes, the long faces, and the general awkwardness that you told them about Randy,” you deduced.

His gaze landed on you at that. A light chuckle squeezed past his lips. “You’re good.”

You took a seat on a barstool next to him. “Oh, I know. If I wasn’t, I would’ve picked the wrong profession.”

He gave you a weak smile in return and licked his lips, returning to his drink.

“Look, uhm, if you wanna talk about it, we can talk about it, okay?” you offered, tapping your fingertips on the bar counter. “I know I’ve been mad at you. But I also know you’re struggling with… well, everything that is us, I guess. I mean, I’m still upset, but I don’t like seeing you like this. I never meant to hurt you.”

Beau nodded, and then a smile, a real and genuine one, formed on his lips. “You know, I’m supposed to actually say that to you.”

“Oh yeah? Which part?” You bit your bottom lip, hiding a small grin behind it.

“The, uhm, sorry-I-never-meant-to-hurt-you part,” he said, green eyes boring into yours as he looked up from his glass.

You gave him a one-sided twitch of your shoulder. You were not the vulnerable type, especially not in a public setting like a crowded bar with a guy who hurt you once before. You wanted to avoid any admission of feelings. Because if you did confess, it meant you felt them in the first place.

“It’s okay, Beau. You don’t have to apologize for how you’re feeling,” you said. Sweeping all your anger and pain under the rug of friendship was your safest option. The plan still remained: solve the case and get the hell out of dodge.

“Yeah, that’s just it. I really do,” Beau replied wryly and finished his drink. “Just gimme a chance to explain, alright? Just one. That’s all you gotta do. If afterwards you still wanna end it, I’ll let you go.”

Pensively, you bit down on your bottom lip and gazed into his eyes. Sincerity, longing, and hope shimmered in them, pulling you right back into that green sea. Although it was probably a mistake, you agreed.

You weren’t sure what it was exactly – whether it was the fact that Beau was your friend, your shared history together, or that he was your dead husband’s old partner. But you were willing to listen to what he had to say. You owed him at least as much.

“Okay,” you said.

When Beau took you to, in his words, “humble abode,” you had expected as much. He had been talking your ear off about his “dream home” for three years now, and a part of you was happy for him that he finally had realized it.

Another part, though, knew him too well and itched to make fun of him for it. You even wondered if bribery was on the table if you threatened to bring both Jenny and Cassie into the loop.

Beau stood with a proud grin next to you, gauging your reaction to his home. “So, what d’you say, huh?”

“I think Emily might have been right…” you mumbled into your jacket. At lunch, she called it a “tin can.”

“What?” The sheriff quirked a brow.

“Nothing,” you brushed it off and grinned. “So, who do you think you are, huh? Patrick Dempsey?”

Beau’s lips pursed a little in a caught kind of manner but still tried to overplay it with a shake of his head. “I don’t know whatcha talkin’ about…”

“Sure you do,” you teased and nudged his shoulder playfully with your elbow. Your grin widened; your eyebrows rose higher. “C’mon, Beau, it’s just me.”

“It’s a guilty pleasure, alright?” he barked as his façade broke. “I just want Meredith to be happy.”

You soothingly rubbed his back. “We all do, sweetie, we all do…” you sighed in understanding.

His head then snapped to you, green eyes wide. “Don’t you dare tell Cassie and Jenny about this! If they find out, I’ll never hear the end of this. Lord knows they’d make me watch more Gosling movies…”

“Yeah, that would be so funny,” you remarked, chuckling. Beau scowled at you warningly.

Taking a step closer to the trailer, you let his life in front of you sink in. You imagined how he’d sit in his patio chair with a bottle of beer in front of the fire pit on cool summer nights, how he’d grab his fishing rod that leaned by the door on his days off, and how he’d have movie nights with his friends on the screen and projector nestled in the back of his little porch.

This is what he left you for.

“You okay there?” Beau checked, noticing your vacant stare.

“I’m fine.” You forced a smile to your lips. “This is nice.”

Beau sighed a little. By now, he knew that your “fines” were never that. He also knew you’d never tell him what you were really thinking.

“Beer?” he offered, hoping you’d accept because God knows he needed one.

“Tequila?” came your reply. You’d need something stronger for this conversation.

“Even better,” Beau agreed and went to pour two shots, handing you one.

You downed it before he could even say “salud” and held out your glass for a refill. He raised his brow a little at you but obliged without question, hiding an amused smile. When the second one burned down your throat, you let out a jittery breath.

“I’ll take that beer now.”

“Well, thank God you’re not a lightweight.” Beau snorted as he handed you a bottle and uncapped it for you. “C’mon, just talk to me. What’s bothering you? I mean, I can take a guess, but I’d rather have you tell me.”

“Guess.” The sternness of your voice gave no room for jokes.

Beau scratched his beard, nodding his head. “Is this about Randy? Look, I’ve been going to grief counseling, okay? I’m working through it. I’m a lot better now.”

“Well, good for you,” you muttered wryly and took a sip of your beer. All you really wanted was another shot of tequila, but asking for more would probably worry him at this point.

“I just-�� Maybe it’ll help you, too. I could go with you,” he suggested, his eyes flashing to your left hand. “You’re still wearing the ring.”

“And I’m always gonna wear it!” You frowned, your brow knitting in a deadly combination of anger and hurt. “So, what? You left me because I was still attached to my dead husband? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I–”

“You wanna do this? Fine, let’s do it,” you announced a little too belligerently as if you were entering a boxing ring, but you were all guns blazing at this point. You took another swig of beer before placing the bottle down on a table nearby. Luckily, the tequilas were finally kicking in.

“Y/N–”

“Nuh-uh, my turn,” you swiftly cut him off. You needed to get this off your chest before the alcohol-induced courage was leaving you again. You’d been waiting to say this for close to a year. You were tired of having this conversation only with your mirror image. “You think this is about Randy? It’s not! I never had a problem with that. You did. Yes, my husband died, and I lost something, but then I found you, okay? And I thought you felt the same way, but then you just fucking left without a warning.”

“I–”

“Still not done yet.” You held up a finger and paused for a beer break and a deep breath. Your lungs were burning for air before you dove back into the water. “I don’t know what’s there left to explain! You found out Carla was getting married and told me you were still in love with her, and then you just up and left and moved to fucking Montana! But then, you didn’t go back to her, did you now?”

“No, that’s what I’m tryna tell ya–”

But you didn’t let him finish. Another huff before you inhaled enough air for your next tirade. “You retired and then un-retired and went fucking trout fishing! And I don’t understand any of it!”

“What, the fishin’?” Beau quipped with an uncomfortable snicker and swallowed harshly upon your deathly glare that cut like a machete, feeling his head slip off his neck.

“What the fuck was all that for, then? Why did you fucking leave if you’re just… dwelling here? You left almost a year ago, and we haven’t spoken since. What’s changed? ‘Cause I can’t fucking see a difference.”

“Look, I tried callin’ ya. I texted. You never picked up,” he threw in and tried not to sound accusatory. Honestly, he understood why you didn’t. Against all odds, he had just always hoped you still would.

“Oh, I wonder why,” you huffed sarcastically before tears began to sting your eyes and blur your vision. But you powered through, refusing to start sobbing in front of him. “You know I was a broken mess when Randy died, and I really didn’t expect I’d ever feel like that again until you left… Do you even know what that means? C’mon, let’s be honest here. You left Texas ‘cause you couldn’t fucking bear the guilt of sleeping with your partner’s wife any longer. That’s the true fucking reason!”

Beau’s lips straightened into a thin line as he ground his jaw, hands resting on his belt. His head bobbed in thought, eyes drawn to his boots before he gazed up and saw you were finally out of breath. The tears that flowed down your cheeks broke his heart. Your words stung like knives.

“Can I say something now?”

“Go ahead,” you retorted rather challengingly and wiped your wet cheeks dry with your sleeves.

Beau sighed and finally drank his shot of tequila. He hissed slightly before finding your eyes. “Look, you’re right. Carla, everything else… it was an excuse, but not for the reasons you think.”

“Oh, gimme a break!” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t wanna face the truth, okay? I felt guilty. Still do, actually,” he admitted and swallowed thickly. “And not ‘cause I slept with my partner’s wife, but because I fell in love with my partner’s wife.”

Your heart stopped beating for a moment as you looked at him. You always felt it, always wanted him to say it, but he never had until now.

“It always meant something to me. You were never a rebound after my divorce. You were never just a distraction from my grief. I never would’ve even kissed you if I hadn’t had feelings for you from the start,” he confessed and ran a hand over his face as the words rushed out. He tried to shove the unshed tears in his eyes back inside.

“And yeah, I’ll always love Carla. Just like I know you’ll always love Randy, but two things can be true at the same time. And the second one is that I’m so deeply and irrevocably in love with you that it scares the living hell outta me.” He gave a small shrug like his feelings couldn’t be helped. “But every time I felt this pull towards you, I kept wondering if I would’ve felt it if I’d never gotten divorced. If Randy never died… Would I have still fallen in love with you? And then the guilt set in, ‘cause the only answer I ever came up with was ‘yes.’”

“Beau…” You stood there petrified, not knowing what to do or say until you saw a tear fall down his cheek. It broke you to see him like this, see all the guilt and shame he carried in his heart for something neither of you could control.

“I’m sorry that I left and hurt you. I never meant for that to happen. I thought I was doing the right thing by lettin’ you go. I thought you deserved better. I never could give you everything you needed. Not then, at least,” he explained. “I tried to ignore my feelings and shove ‘em down. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t deal with it anymore. He was my best friend and my partner. I mean, I was his best man at your guys’ wedding,” he said and let out a humorless chuckle, dragging a palm over his face. Then, his green eyes bored into yours, drowning in emotion. “But once you showed up here… I just couldn’t stay away anymore. I don’t wanna lose you again. I don’t wanna die without you ever knowing how I feel about you. I love you, and I’ve goddamn missed you, Y/N.”

In a heartbeat, you caught his lips, warm and soft and trembling against yours as you kissed him. His breathing quickened, his heart thrumming wildly against his ribcage, his mind filling with nothing but you. His hands were in your hair and on your waist, yours sliding from his cheeks to rest on his broad chest.

When you drew back breathlessly, you looked up into his eyes. “Look, uhm, I don’t have an answer for you. Maybe we would have found each other eventually, or we wouldn’t have,” you said and gave him a small smile. “I don’t think we’re ever gonna solve this one. I don’t think we even have to. So, maybe let’s not focus so much on the ‘what ifs’ and more on the ‘what nows.’”

Beau’s lips rose to a soft smile. “I can do that,” he said. “So, what now?”

“Now, I’ll tell you that I love you, and we’ll make out for a looong time like we’re trying to catch up for everything we missed out on when we were apart. And then we’ll figure out an excuse to tell Cassie and Jenny for me not coming home tonight,” you replied, smirking.

Beau chuckled. “Alright, sounds like a plan. Although I doubt you’re just gonna stick to the make-out. I mean, let’s be real here, we both know you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” he teased.

You gasped playfully and slapped his arm, making him laugh. “Careful now, Sheriff. You’re getting cocky. You better have some proof to back that one up.”

“Oh, I can deliver.” He smirked and dipped his head, claiming your lips.

Heat rose to your chest as his hands slid up your body. You parted your lips slightly, enough for his tongue to slip inside and taste you. His fingers dented the skin on your waist as your arms locked around his neck. His beard tickled your flushed cheeks as you breathed each other in.

“Damn you,” you sighed as you both came up for air.

Beau smiled before his soft lips pressed against yours once more. He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you inside.

September 2021

Your legs were slung around his waist, holding him tight as Beau carried you into the dainty Mexican motel room, cool and dry desert air hushing inside with your movements. He kicked the door shut with his boot, his lips roaming every inch of you they could reach. Your fingers tangled in his hair, occasionally eliciting a groan against your skin when you tugged too roughly.

His hands, his lips, his heart – no part of his body wanted to ever leave yours.

The first and only time his shaking hands let go of you completely since you two jumped out of the car in the motel parking lot was when he sat you down on the end of the squeaky bed, your feet hitting the stained and dusty carpet. He started unbuttoning his shirt; you strived off your shoes and tank top, flinging each item somewhere across the room before helping him with the remaining buttons.

Your lips touched his abdomen, kissed his warm skin, and felt him shivering underneath you as you trailed your way down his abs. Your fingers unbuckled his belt and opened his zipper, letting his jeans pool around his ankles.

You looked up and found his half-lidded eyes, checking if the next step of your endeavor was wanted. His green orbs were full of desire, a need for you that made you drip between your legs. His breathing quickened, a sharp inhale of air as your hand snuck down his boxers. His eyes closed. You smirked and kissed below his pubic bone, pulling the fabric down to join the rest of the discarded clothes on the filthy ground.

“You don’t have to,” he said with a thick swallow, his voice rasped and strained when his erection sprang against your parted lips.

“Oh, but I want to,” you replied cheekily and wrapped your hand around the base of his hard cock.

His large palm wantonly caressed your cheek, thumbing your bottom lip. You sucked his thumb first, teased with your tongue, and twisted your grip around his dick as you stroked him until a first hiss escaped his plump lips and he twitched in your palm. You let his thumb go with a pop and sent him a naughty smile. Your warm breath ghosted against his swollen tip before your tongue took a salty taste test and dipped into the slit. His head fell back between his shoulder blades with a groan.

“Let go,” you told him, your voice sultry and seductively low in the quiet of the room, only the neighbor’s TV drowning through the walls with a Spanish soap. You planted wet kisses on his length all the way down to the root as you spoke. “You can do whatever you want with me. I want you to…”

“Fuck, don’t tell me shit like that,” he growled with restraint.

You smirked. “Why? Does it turn you on?”

“You have no idea,” Beau replied and bit down on his lip, tugging it behind his teeth.

“I think I have some,” you said with a chuckle, noticing how his dick twitched at your words.

Your lips enveloped the head of his cock and then slid down his shaft, taking as much of him as you could fit until he nudged the back of your throat. He was long and thick, making your jaw ache as you sucked him down. He gathered your hair in his fist and guided your pace, a burn on your scalp that spurred you on.

His hips rocked to the bob of your head, taking him a little bit deeper each time. Hollowing your cheeks, you went nose-deep once your jaw adjusted to his girth, leaving his dick spit-wet before he pulled you off with a hiss.

“Shit,” he groaned between heavy breaths. “Not gonna last long if you keep this up,” he said with a coy smile, admiration gleaming in his eyes as he leaned down, hungrily kissing your red and glistening lips. “I wanna come inside you.”

With your heart beating in your throat, you couldn’t speak and just nodded, planting a firm kiss on his lips.

He unclasped your bra, and you flung it off your shoulders as he slipped out of his boots. You shrieked and giggled when he grabbed your thighs and threw you off your feet with one quick haul, your back and head hitting the mattress with a blissful sigh.

His body pressed on top of yours, heavy and large and perfectly sculpted, his mouth following a trail from below your neck to above the edge of your jeans. He shimmied the tight material down your ass and thighs, all the way down your smooth legs, your black cotton panties following shortly after till you were bare in front of him.

Green eyes traced the curves of your body. His Adam’s apple bobbed when they landed on your slick folds. He knelt between your spread legs and lowered his head to your pussy, nose, tongue, and lips traveling through your soaked slit.

His tongue circled your clit and poked into your tight channel till your breath caught in your throat. His lips sucked and tasted you till your heart pounded furiously in your chest. His teeth nibbled and teased till you were writhing underneath him.

One finger, then two, slipped inside and threatened to turn you inside out as they plunged in and out of you, knuckle-deep against your velvet walls. Your hips jerked upon his every touch, a firm hand holding you in place. Your fist gripped his hair as your thighs trembled, calves resting against his strong arms. The back of your head pressed harshly into the mattress as an unstoppable fire claimed your entire body.

Sweat gathered between your heaving boobs in a thin layer as an explosion hit you so violently it shook every muscle. With his fingers still inside of you as your pussy throbbed around them, he found your lips and stole your remaining oxygen for himself, leaving you breathless.

His wet fingers slipped out of your cunt, your aching emptiness waiting to be filled by his cock that rested heavy against your thighs. As he released your lips, his gaze locked with yours, fingers caressing your cheek like you were precious and breakable all at once.

“Do we need, uhm…”

“A condom?” you finished his dangling question with a smile. He let his head drop to your shoulder and nodded bashfully in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “I don’t know. Have you been with anyone since the divorce?”

“No,” he replied simply. But Beau wanted to say much more than that. He wanted to tell you that he had waited for you. That you’d been prevalent in his mind for months now. That he didn’t want anyone else. All he managed was a one word answer and a shake of his head, though.

“Me neither,” you said quietly. Your husband had died thirteen months ago. You’d grieved but never felt ready to move on, to erase him with some stranger you’d met on the internet or in a dingy bar – not that you ever could.

Until Beau kissed you, you’d never thought you’d be able to love again.

His face changed upon your answer, a hint of worry haunting his features. “You-, uhm, you sure you want me to-… ‘Cause we don’t have to do anything… or, uhm, more, you know? We can just leave it at that and forget about it.”

You cupped his cheeks in your palms and forced him to look you into your eyes. You smiled at him reassuringly. “Hey, I want you to. I want it to be you, okay? I want you inside me.”

He chocked down a thick swallow upon your words, his cock needily throbbing between your legs. With a nod, he gripped his length and guided his tip to your soaking entrance, coating his dick in your arousal before gliding inside. Inch by inch he stretched you, sinking deeper and deeper till he filled you whole. Your lips parted when his forehead rested on yours as he relished in the feeling of you.

Neither of you had been with anyone since your respective spouses, a new feeling overwhelming both of you. Your breaths mingled before he claimed your lips, his hands roaming your sides as you stilled for a moment.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N,” he groaned against the shell of your ear, nibbling down your jawline. “Always wanted this, even though ‘m gonna burn in hell for sayin’ it.”

“You feel good, too. But fuck… Beau, please,” you begged, arching your back to raise your hips and meet his, encouraging him to move. It didn’t take much for him to oblige.

His hips rolled slowly at first, each thrust becoming more forceful than the one that came before. His lips caressed your pebbled nipples, hands groping your tits as he explored every curve of your body.

Sinful mouth and gluttonous hands didn’t leave a single spot of your skin untouched, your flesh turning into unholy ground in his wake. He wanted you to be his, claim every bit of you in hopes of breaking a sacrilegious vow. His pumps were biblical, a great flood that buried you underneath him. Your cries of prayer were devout.

Neither of you spoke a word, your sole focus on each other as passion overtook you both, too busy with impatient kisses on mingling body parts. The silence in the room was filled with ragged moans, salacious sounds, and the occasional squeak of the old mattress.

His fingertips bruised your flesh, your heels digging into his lower back as he bottomed out. His fingers then interlaced with yours above your head till your grips were knuckle-white. You squeezed his cock, your pussy swallowing him whole.

Your cunt clenched and gripped him tightly as you came undone, your second climax washing over you with a slip of his name. Your whole body trembled in ecstasy, your nails digging into his back and your toes curling so much they came close to a cramp.

Beau let go after a few more pumps and grunted, spilling a full load of cum into you as his hips came to a jerky standstill. His head dropped to your shoulder as he caught his breath, sweaty skin meeting heaving chest.

Gently, you stroked his back and carded his damp hair with your fingertips, massaging his scalp as he softly groaned into the crook of your neck. Your heartbeat slowed to its regular rhythm. Your breathing calmed like the waves after a great storm. His head lifted off your shoulder. His eyes fixed on you. A smile twitched on the corners of his lips.

“So… that happened,” Beau said almost to an awkward degree. It made you snort a laugh.

“Technically, it’s still happening,” you noted with an amused smile and squeezed his softening cock inside of you.

“Oh, uh, right,” he muttered with a clear of his throat, his cheeks adorably blushing. He tried to slip out, but you stopped him, fastening your legs around his waist till he relaxed again.

“No, it’s alright. This is actually my favorite part,” you confessed and watched the smile on his freckled face widen.

“Yeah, mine too.” His knuckles caressed your cheek, his fingers tucking back some strands of your hair. “Was that okay? Do you, you know, feel good? Any, uhm, regrets?”

“No, I’m good. You were amazing,” you assured him with a tender smile and saw the relief wash over his features.

Beau tried to choke down the guilt and betrayal that bubbled deep in his chest. Truth was, he wanted to be selfish for once. He wanted you, and he wished you could feel the warmth that spread through his heart whenever he looked at you.

“Are you okay?” you checked when you noticed a glaze in his green eyes. At first glance, you assumed it was sadness, your heart weighing heavy in your ribcage before the crinkles of happiness around his eyes betrayed that theory.

“Yeah, I am, darlin’. For the first time in a long time, actually,” he said and kissed you long and deep.

Chapter 4: Rewind

All's well that ends well. Now it's just all lovely bliss till the end, innit? 🤣

Next week we have a bunch of awkward (maybe scandalous even?) flashbacks to dive in... 👀

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