#but now i wanna strangle them til i see the life go out. just a bit. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asthmark · 4 years ago

Text

❝ chemistry ❞ o.st

synopsis → osaki shotaro moving to town means trips to the dance studio, boba dates, and the perpetual teasing of lee donghyuck.

pairing → shotaro, reader

requested? → yes! based off @onlyjihoons’s shipping game answer ♡

word count → 5.5k (this was supposed to be 1k.... goodbye.)

a/n → i enjoy writing texting scenes WAY too much ;; tbh this is like 50% texts im cryign but i had to convey how much i love 00 line .... and also how firmly i believe in lee donghyuck devil supremacy. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated and enjoy!

if someone were to ask you how you felt about your friends, you would without any hesitation, answer that you loved them to death. of course, if you were being completely honest, you would also have to add that you experienced the urge to strangle them from time to time. that might earn you a couple odd stares but you’re sure people would be more understanding if they knew who was in your inner circle to begin with.

for starters, there was lee jeno — tall, handsome, and the textbook definition of a gentleman. then, na jaemin, who you would consider to be the yin to jeno’s yang. an extremely energetic guy and, in your book, a total freak of nature ever since you found out that he inhales four shots of espresso on the daily. liu yangyang was a more recent addition to your group but, being as quick-witted as he was, he quickly fit right in. he also had a habit of going on somewhat aggressive rants in german which renjun found to be extremely amusing. speaking of, huang renjun was another one of your close friends — the shortest of the group, actually. (and, much to renjun’s dismay, that’s exactly how donghyuck liked to introduce him to people.) he was the type of guy you could trust to keep everyone in check which consequently made you mildly terrified of him.

however, it could never compare to the perpetual fear you have of lee donghyuck.

of course, you love him to pieces but sometimes you really wish he didn’t find so much joy in, well, making everyone miserable. you couldn’t deny it was funny to watch him tease and taunt your other friends. you still remember him purposefully messing up renjun’s game at the local arcade just when he was about to reach his high score — and also the way renjun had tackled him to the floor right then and there, resulting in the six of you being banned from the place. or, that time he offered to pay for everyone’s starbucks orders only to tell the barista that jaemin’s name was ben dover. (to no one’s surprise, yangyang had found that joke particularly hilarious.) you can also clearly recall how hard you had laughed in both of those situations.

but, donghyuck never let anyone laugh for too long.

according to him it was ’only fair’ to make sure each of his friends was at the receiving end of his gags. so, despite laughing at his latest victim’s expense, each of you knew that donghyuck would make sure you were in the same position sooner or later.

you definitely weren’t expecting it to be your turn one dull friday evening.

things are going slow for you as you sit at your desk, typing away on your laptop. school has been out for hours and your professors have decided to be saints and leave you little homework for the weekend. beside you, your phone dings, alerting you of the new text message in your group chat.

[4:23 pm] hyuck: i’m bored 🥺

[4:23 pm] you: plz never use that emoji again

[4:24 pm] nana: it’s misleading dude

[4:25 pm] yangx2: yeah like when have u ever made a face that isn’t this 😈

[4:25 pm] renjun: donghyuck is the devil = confirmed

[4:25 pm] nana: CALLED IT

[4:26 pm] hyuck: u guys are literally so evil

jeno laughed at “u guys are literally so evil”

[4:27 pm] jeno: look who’s talking lol

[4:27 pm] you: dangg u know it’s bad when lee jeno disses u

[4:28 pm] jeno: ...ngl it kinda feels like ur shading me rn

[4:28 pm] you: u would be correct :)

[4:29 pm] hyuck: um HELLO can u guys go back to paying attention to me???

[4:29 pm] renjun: what do u want, diva?

[4:29 pm] hyuck: i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(

renjun disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

yangx2 disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

you disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

nana disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

jeno disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

[4:30 pm] hyuck: OH COME ON

[4:30 pm] yangx2: i think what u meant to say is that u wanna make one of us very miserable today, right?

[4:30 pm] hyuck: .....no comment

nana renamed the group chat “hyuck hate club”

[4:31 pm] hyuck: ok i’m honestly feeling so attacked right now

[4:31 pm] jeno: well now u know what it’s like to be friends with u

[4:31 pm] you: so true king omg ur on a roll

[4:32 pm] hyuck: hmm okay so either jeno or y/n is gonna be today’s target, got it

[4:32 pm] hyuck: anyway can u guys come down to the dance studio now??

[4:32 pm] you: what makes u think i would go anywhere near u when i know ur plotting ur revenge on me as we speak

[4:32 pm] hyuck: because maybe i’ll have mercy on u and just terrorize jeno instead

[4:33 pm] you: good enough for me! thnx bestie, see u soon!!

[4:33 pm] jeno: HEY

nana laughed at “good enough for me! thnx bestie, see u soon!!”

[4:34 pm] yangx2: u literally cannot trust anyone in this friend group

[4:34 pm] renjun: ikr isn’t it great???

you might have been slightly out of your mind to willingly go see donghyuck knowing you had teased him in your group chat earlier. although, if there was a slight chance he would show you mercy if you did hang out with him, you were going to take it.

the studio was where you had first met donghyuck, along with the rest of your friends due to the dance classes you attended. after bumping into each in between classes and during practice, you began to get well acquainted. turns out, the six of you actually got along incredibly well and after a while, you began to share routines and tips, even choreographing together from time to time. obviously, this led to the infamous group chat being formed and lots of time spent outside the studio as well.

but, none of you had lost that love for dancing. in fact, forming your little clique had only made it grow. as you opened the front doors of the building you had made so many memories in, you wondered if donghyuck wanted your insight on a certain routine or needed some help choreographing. of course, there was also the possibility that he really was just bored and wanted you to suffer with him.

what you did not expect, however, was to see him caught up in conversation with another person. you couldn’t clearly see them with donghyuck in the way; all you knew for certain was that your best friend’s mouth was moving a mile a minute. you tentatively tiptoe into the room, hoping to not intrude on their discussion. but, at hearing the doors creak open, donghyuck puts his rant on pause to enthusiastically wave you over.

you sigh, putting your belongings down and approaching the pair. as you near, you notice that hyuck has a huge smile — no, smirk — on his face. you internally curse yourself for believing that he would ever pass up an opportunity to torment you, especially in front of a stranger.

“this is a very dear friend of mine,” you hear him introduce to his acquaintance. “her name is y/n. she dances, too.”

“oh, that’s really cool!”

the stranger’s unusually cheery tone prompts you to finally peek behind donghyuck and put a face to the voice.

and what a face he has.

“this is shotaro,” donghyuck informs you. “he’s new to town and quite the dancer. caught him in the middle of a routine.”

your knees almost wobble as you take in the stranger — shotaro’s — kind eyes that almost sparkle. (you aren’t sure if it’s because of the fluorescent lights of the studio or just part of his charm.) his lips are curved up into a friendly smile that makes you feel slightly giddy. his hair falls into his face almost perfectly, not a strand out of place and you’re uncertain as to how that’s even possible since, as donghyuck had said, he was dancing. not to mention, there’s not a bead of sweat on his face. did this guy come straight out of a disney movie or something?

“excuse her,” donghyuck chuckles. “good looking people tend to make her freeze up. don’t worry, this happened when she met me, too.”

you offer your friend a glare and an elbow to the side and you swear you hear shotaro chuckle. you turn to him instead, putting on a welcoming smile.

“my bad, i just—”

“got lost in his eyes?”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “donghyuck, please don’t make me have to attack you in front of our guest.”

more giggles escape shotaro. (you swear it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard.) you curiously tilt your head at him.

“sorry, it’s just that, you guys are too funny,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

you mirror his grin, slightly relieved he was amused instead of weirded out. “yeah, well, just wait ’til you meet the rest of us. it’s like a circus show, you’ll love it.”

“hello, clowns!”

“speak of the devil,” donghyuck murmurs, watching as yangyang and renjun enter, followed by jeno and jaemin.

“woah, who’s the cutie?” yangyang asks renjun, in what you presume he thinks is a whisper. however, yangyang has never spoken quietly a day in his life. renjun simply shrugs at his question.

having clearly heard the compliment, a faint blush creeps onto shotaro’s cheeks.

“guys, this is shotaro,” donghyuck answers, tugging the sandy blonde forward.

he gives a somewhat shy wave. “hi, y/n’s friends.”

jaemin erupts into laughter. “uh oh, looks like he likes y/n more than hyuck.”

“don’t blame him,” jeno mutters.

shotaro’s forehead creases, face suddenly twisted in worry. “oh, i’m sorry, was i not supposed to say that?”

“oh no, don’t worry,” donghyuck denies, quickly. “i’m sure y/n doesn’t mind at all, right?”

if you could crawl into a hole to avoid the embarrassment, you would. of course, donghyuck was 100% right; you really didn’t mind shotaro calling the group that if it meant you could hear him say your name over and over again. in fact, his sweet voice could probably make the dictionary sound like the most addictive song. but, donghyuck had no right putting you on the spot like that.

jeno suddenly speaks, catching on to your flustered state and donghyuck’s evil grin. “so, it’s y/n’s turn today? sweet, i’m off the hook!”

shotaro furrows his brows slightly. “huh?”

“oh, it’s just an inside joke,” jeno says, smile reaching all the way up to his eyes.

you wish you could strangle him right then and there for finding amusement at your expense but the last thing you want is for shotaro to think you’re some sort of psychopath. (although, with a friend group like this, you’re definitely beginning to think that’s where you’re headed.)

“got it,” shotaro responds, breaking out into a grin himself. “you guys seem like a really close bunch!”

“the closest,” donghyuck corrects, overly sweet, as he wraps an arm around you. (you resist the urge to shove him off.) “you’ll fit right in!”

you believed that the torture was over the day donghyuck introduced shotaro to your group. you would probably just see him from time to time and the studio (hopefully without hyuck around) and it would all be downhill from there, right? the latest notification on your phone alerts you that you are absolutely wrong.

hyuck has added one (1) user to the group chat

[1:05 pm] hyuck: welcome shotaro!!

[1:06 pm] unknown: oh hey guys! :]

the emoticon almost makes your heart beat right out of your chest. you roll your eyes in frustration at how easily affected you were by this guy. seriously, why did everything he do have to be so cute? regardless, you quickly add his number to your contacts.

[1:06 pm] hyuck: why don’t we do a little roll call so shotaro can save ur numbers to his phone

[1:07 pm] yangx2: YANGYANG

[1:07 pm] yangx2: HA I WAS FIRST

[1:07 pm] jeno: ...

[1:08 pm] jeno: anyway this is jeno :)

[1:08 pm] nana: jaemin present!

[1:08 pm] renjun: hi shotaro, this is renjun

[1:10 pm] shotaro: haha cool thanks a lot, i just saved all ur numbers!

[1:10 pm] shotaro: but quick question, is y/n in this group chat? :0

you almost drop your phone at reading shotaro’s message although you’re unsure why. he just typed your name, get it together, you urge yourself.

[1:11 pm] you: heyy shotaro! i’m right here :)

[1:11 pm] shotaro: oh yayy! i’m so glad ^^

hyuck disliked “oh yayy! i’m so glad ^^”

[1:12 pm] hyuck: shotaro plz return my love what does she have that i don’t T-T

[1:12 pm] nana: a heart

[1:12 pm] yangx2: a brain

[1:12 pm] jeno: a conscience

[1:12 pm] renjun: a functioning moral compass

[1:13 pm] hyuck: wtf

[1:13 pm] shotaro: ahahaha it’s like i’m watching a comedy

[1:14 pm] you: told u it’s a circus

[1:14 pm] you: i say get out while u still can

[1:14 pm] shotaro: whaatt and leave u behind? no way!

nana renamed the group chat “shotaro x y/n supremacists”

[1:15 pm] jeno: my thoughts exactly

[1:15 pm] renjun: took the words right out of my mouth

you cringe at your friends’ blunt behavior, praying shotaro didn’t find their antics to be too strange.

[1:16 pm] shotaro: 😳

[1:16 pm] nana: aww someone’s shy

[1:17 pm] renjun: he wouldn’t last a day in itzy

[1:17 pm] yangx2: HELPP

you shake your head, laughing silently to yourself as you mute the group chat and place your phone back down. although, moments later, you receive a direct message. you presume it’s one of the boys trying to rope you back into the chat but the moment you see the contact name, you’re forced to do a double take.

[1:21 pm] shotaro: i hope i’m not bothering u but i just wanted to make sure ur okay .. you kinda went quiet in the gc :>

[1:21 pm] shotaro: it’s shotaro from the dance studio btw!

you can’t help but find the fact that he seriously thought you wouldn’t remember him adorable. how could you ever forget a face like his?

[1:22 pm] you: that’s so kind! i’m okay, i promise. i’ve just had to put up with those dorks for way too long, sometimes i just ignore them haha

[1:22 pm] shotaro: lol yeah they do seem like a handful! but i look forward to getting to know them better!!

[1:23 pm] shotaro: and u too ofc~~

it takes all your willpower not to spam dozens of heart emojis in an attempt to show shotaro just how he has reduced you to a lovesick fool. instead, your response is short and sweet.

[1:23 pm] you: right back at u, taro! ♡

“okay, take five,” donghyuck pants, pausing the music blaring from the speakers.

you gladly obey, wiping away the light sweat you had worked up from the latest routine you and hyuck were constructing.

you both belonged to the same dance class and frequently paired together for partnered projects. the rest of your friends attended different classes, which you constantly joked was for the best since there was no way one dance instructor could possibly handle the six of you together.

“how do you feel?” donghyuck asks you, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“the choreo’s great, i’m proud of what we got so far,” you reply. “of course, i would be happier if i didn’t have to get so up close and personal with you.”

donghyuck scoffs at your joke. “i can’t do anything about that. the teacher said the whole concept of the routine is supposed to be is intimate.”

you fake a gag, failing to contain a laugh when hyuck playfully shoves you in offense.

“i’m sorry i can’t be shotaro,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips.

you roll your eyes. “oh, very funny.”

“c’mon, you’re acting like you wouldn’t kill to have him as your partner, especially with choreo as spicy as this.”

“well, it would beat being paired with you,” you remark, picking up your water bottle and taking a swig.

“hm, then looks like today might be your lucky day,” donghyuck replies, eyes trained somewhere behind you.

you follow his gaze, nearly choking on your water as soon as you catch sight of shotaro entering the studio. he meets your eyes, plucking out his earbuds and offering you a small wave.

“oh, hey guys!” he exclaims, cheerfully.

“hey ’taro,” you greet, rather quickly, earning you a knowing glance from your partner.

“’taro?” hyuck repeats, amused, as he folds his arms over his chest. “you guys are already on cute nickname basis?”

shotaro giggles, eyes squinting adorably as he does so. “it is a pretty adorable nickname, right? she’s the only one who calls me that!”

your heart beats faster when you see how oddly excited that seems to make him. did he somehow find it endearing?

“seems like the two of you are becoming quite close, hm?” continues hyuck.

shotaro nods enthusiastically before glancing at you tentatively, as if to check for confirmation.

“yeah, you could say that.”

your agreement causes yet another smile to grace shotaro’s lips — this time he seems relieved. you briefly wonder if the kid ever stops flashing those pearly whites of his. you certainly hope so, or else your heart may never catch a break.

“well, since you’re comfortable enough with each other,” donghyuck begins, flashing you a grin.

you’re not even sure what he’s gonna say but you already feel the need to put an end to it. after all, nothing good has ever come of donghyuck’s mischievous grins. you subtly purse your lips and narrow your eyes in an attempt to get him to stop whatever chaos he’s planning to ensue.

nevertheless, he proceeds. “maybe you could help me out with this choreography?”

you want to facepalm at donghyuck’s lame excuse of a lie. however, on the other hand, shotaro’s face lights up in delight.

“you’re working on choreo? what for?” he inquires, curiously.

“for our dance class,” hyuck explains, motioning towards you. “i have a couple ideas so i was thinking you two could maybe try out some steps i’m planning to include. you know, to help me... visualize.”

“that sounds awesome,” shotaro responds, oblivious to your friend’s untruths. “i would love to help you guys out.”

“great!” donghyuck claps his hands together. “just a heads up, the theme of the routine is intimacy, so i wanna see all that charm of yours, shotaro. it’ll, uh, help me choreograph.��

you cringe at the obvious fib. meanwhile, it’s as if a switch has gone off in shotaro’s mind. his smile fades and his eyebrows knit together. “hold on, i-intimacy? does that mean—”

“that you’ll have to get a bit touchy-feely with her? yeah,” donghyuck interjects, innocently.

“y’know... i’ve really been wanting to dance with her.” he faces you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “just never thought it would be like this.”

you offer him an apologetic smile. “i know, it might be a bit... uncomfortable. you can back out if you’d like. i promise hyuck and i won’t mind.”

shotaro’s head shakes, vigorously. “no, of course not!” he must realize how quick he was to deny your offer, making him suspiciously eager to be close to you as he immediately adds, “i mean, it’s good practice.”

you suppress a giggle. “sure thing. hyuck, should we get started now?”

the boy in question dramatically picks at his nails, acting as if he had been waiting on you both for hours. “if you guys are done flirting, then, yeah.”

you roll your eyes, shooting shotaro a mildly annoyed stare. he grins, finding it to be equally amusing as it is endearing. (what can he say, the faint pout that appeared on your face was cute.)

“shotaro, how about you get in position right behind her.”

shotaro obeys, making sure to leave a significant amount of space between the two of you. however, donghyuck doesn’t seem to approve.

“closer!” he commands. “the concept is intimacy, not social distancing!”

shotaro shuffles forward, pressing his front into your back. you can’t help but notice how firmly toned his chest is. curse his dancers body, you think.

“okay, now, lemme see your hands on her waist!”

you feel the breath of shotaro’s shaky exhale on the back of your neck as he obeys, sliding apprehensive hands around your midsection. there’s silence on donghyuck’s end and through the mirror you watch him observe the two of you, no doubt acting way more pensive than he truly is. you know he’s just prolonging your flustered state by keeping you in this intimate position with the younger boy.

although, shotaro himself might know it too, considering the fact that he begins to rub comforting circles into your sides that he’s currently gripping, as per donghyuck’s request, in an attempt to calm you down. you nearly melt right then and there. at the same time, you hope he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

donghyuck calls out your name, successfully startling you and putting an end to the peaceful atmosphere. “why don’t you go ahead and lean on his shoulder. just lay your head back nice and easy— good, very good! look at that chemistry!”

if you’re being sincere, reclining on shotaro feels way more natural and enjoyable than it should. he steadily holds you in place, almost as if he secretly wishes to never let go. you wouldn’t be completely opposed to the idea either.

“alright, last thing, guys! y/n, how about you hook your arm around shotaro’s neck?”

you do so, fingers brushing softly against his jaw. he shivers beneath your touch, erupting into giggles when you shoot him an odd stare.

“i’m ticklish,” he confesses, in a whisper.

you can’t help but smile widely. “is that so? hm, i might have to exploit that information sooner or later.”

“as long as donghyuck doesn’t find out,” he replies.

his comment certainly gets a chuckle out of you. “did you finally realize how evil he is?”

“if the torture he’s putting you through right now is anything to go by, then absolutely.”

“only a matter of time before it’s your turn,” you reply. you lean into his ear to add, “by the way, this is anything but torture for me.”

“hey! no whispering!” donghyuck reprimands.

for the first time, shotaro goes against the older boy’s orders to whisper back, “it’s mutual. if anything, i think this is the best thing i’ve done since i moved here.”

your heart melts at the sincere admission. you stare at shotaro in what you’re sure is a very obvious case of heart eyes. you’re taken aback to find that he, too, returns the lovesick look. perhaps he was immersing himself a bit too much in the intimacy concept...

“stop! pause! cut!”

you and shotaro (reluctantly) untangle yourselves from each other to face a seemingly unhappy donghyuck.

“can you guys please just focus on my instructions without falling in love with each other?” he pleads. “i mean, you haven’t even gotten out of the starting position yet.” he groans, exasperated. “actually, you know what, just take five.”

[2:03 pm] hyuck: good morning

[2:03 pm] nana: it’s 2 o clock in the afternoon but ok

[2:03 pm] hyuck: i just woke up, therefore it’s morning

[2:03 pm] shotaro: good morning :3 did u sleep well?

[2:04 pm] hyuck: i slept a wonderful 27 hours, thnx for asking!

[2:04 pm] yangx2: ?????? THERES NOT EVEN 27 HOURS IN A DAY IM SCREAMING

[2:04 pm] you: LOLLL WHY WAS HE HIBERNATING

[2:05 pm] renjun: i was just gonna ignore him but i am genuinely concerned now

[2:05 pm] shotaro: woww,, well at least you’re well rested now! :]

[2:04 pm] nana: shotaro, i am begging u not to encourage him

[2:04 pm] you: all it takes is one (1) supportive person and he becomes an unstoppable force of evil

[2:04 pm] shotaro: o_0

[2:05 pm] jeno: besides ur like the only other person here with common sense besides myself and maybe renjun. i can’t lose u to donghyuck :(

[2:05 pm] renjun: ykw i’m not even gonna argue with that

[2:05 pm] yangx2: yeah shotaro is a good guy™

[2:06 pm] hyuck: i hate u guys and ur goldfish attention spans

[2:06 pm] you: sigh what do you need hyuck?

[2:06 pm] hyuck: i want boba :(

[2:07 pm] you: that actually sounds really good but idk if it’s worth being around u

[2:07 pm] hyuck: i’ll pretend like u didn’t just say that <3 what if i paid?

[2:07 pm] you: ....

[2:08 pm] yangx2: LMAO HYUCK BEING NICE IS SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR

[2:08 pm] renjun: ikr it’s making me super uncomfortable rn

[2:08 pm] hyuck: can’t i do something nice for my friends? :/

[2:08 pm] jeno: no

[2:09 pm] nana: nope

[2:09 pm] yangx2: nah

[2:09 pm] renjun: absolutely not

[2:09 pm] you: never seen it happen before so no

[2:10 pm] hyuck: u guys are so fake :( shotaro do u wanna hang out with me? if u say no i’ll scream :)

[2:11 pm] shotaro: yeah i guess i could :]

[2:11 pm] renjun: oh this just got interesting.. i guess i could tag along

[2:11 pm] yangx2: me too, i gotta be there to record whatever happens

[2:12 pm] nana: i’m in

[2:12 pm] jeno: same

[2:12 pm] you: hhhhh okay fine.. only to ensure taro’s safety

[2:13 pm] shotaro: (^з^)-︎♡

due to the fact that you believed donghyuck was going to try and officially initiate shotaro into your friend group with one of his infamous pranks, you decided to head to the boba shop. you hoped that if you showed up, you would be able to prevent whatever mayhem he had planned or at the very least, provide some damage control.

you pushed open the door to the quaint building, the bell dinging to announce your arrival. your eyes immediately lock onto the table in the far back since it was where you and your friends always sat — you had practically claimed it. you expect to see all the chairs filled but, to your surprise, only one person occupies the space.

osaki shotaro.

he beams, probably relieved to finally have some company in the otherwise empty shop. (after all, you weren’t sure how long he had been sitting there all alone.) nevertheless, you allow yourself to wonder — just for a second — if maybe he was just that ecstatic to see you. the way he enthusiastically waves you over seems to be in favor of that theory. it’s almost confirmed when you reach he table and he pats the chair beside him.

you let out a soft laugh. “the whole table’s empty, ‘taro.”

“i know,” he admits. “i just really want you to sit next to me.”

you swear you could break down in tears simply from the way he’s looking at you; like you’re all he needs. it’s pure adoration. you wonder if that’s how you look at him too. you can’t help but ask yourself if he, too, notices your longing stares.

you decide that you would be a monster if you denied shotaro his wish, so, you internally prepare yourself to sit next to possibly the sweetest boy you’ve ever known. yet, that proves to be difficult as said boy stands up to pull out your chair like the gentleman he is. you shoot him a grateful smile, mentally dethroning jeno as the most well-mannered person you know and passing the crown on to shotaro.

“so, how long have you been waiting for?” you ask, resting your elbow on the table and leaning into your palm to stare attentively at the boy to your right.

“actually, i only got here a couple minutes before you. we did agree to meet up here a quarter before three, right?” he asks, slightly confused.

you nod in confirmation. “honestly, i think we got set up.”

shotaro tilts his head. “really? why would they do that?”

“might have something to do with our ‘chemistry’,” you explain, quoting donghyuck.

the japanese boy’s mouth falls agape, as he comes to the realization. “oh, so they literally set us up.”

“mhm,” you agree, smiling ever so slightly.

shotaro must be paying closer attention than you thought because he picks up on your grin. “what’s with the smile?”

you shrug, feigning uncertainty. “i guess i just don’t feel so bad about being set up if it’s with a certain cutie i know.”

“oh?” he raises a brow, cheeks growing as he too mirrors your lovestruck look. “should i be worried about this guy?”

“certainly not,” you reassure him. “i’ve only got eyes for one.”

you see a faded tint of pink rush to his cheeks and you find it adorable how your confession flusters him. you can’t help but caress the supple skin as gently as possible. shotaro leans into your touch, his own hand coming up to cup your own, almost as if he were holding you in place. after a couple moments of basking in the intimate moment, you retract your hand.

“maybe we should try and get hyuck to include that in the choreo, huh?” you suggest, a teasing smile on your lips.

shotaro chuckles, “sounds good to me. i might even ask if i can fill his position, too. if not, i just might get jealous.”

you playfully shove him and he raises his hands in surrender. you chuckle, grabbing one of the menus that litter the table, planning to offer shotaro some help choosing an item from the list that is surely unfamiliar to him but it seems something outside the window behind you has caught his focus instead.

“looks like we have an audience.”

you take a deep breath at his words, preparing yourself for whatever it is you’re going to see upon turning around. when you finally do, all you manage to catch is five heads ducking beneath the windowsill, in a weak attempt to not get caught.

“of course,” you nearly laugh. “they’re so predictable.”

shotaro seems to find the situation humorous as well, if his amused tone is anything to go by. “to be honest, we should be thanking them. they got us together.”

“oh, so we’re together now?” you inquire, raising a brow.

“w-well, i mean, if you want to. i-i definitely want to.”

“no need for stuttering,” you reassure him, reaching over to stroke that one ticklish spot on his neck. “to quote a very wise — and handsome — young man, ‘it’s mutual.’”

he smiles at his own words being recited to him. “i don’t know about you, but i think we should seal the deal.”

“interesting. how do you suppose we do that?” you ask with faux curiosity. you certainly had some ideas of your own.

“maybe... a kiss?” shotaro leans forward, eyes closed expectantly as he taps his cheek. you resist the urge to pinch his lovely, round baby cheeks. he peeks one eye open to add, “for the audience, of course.”

you giggle, completely and utterly love-struck by the boy before you. in fact, you are so enamored by him that you decide to go the extra mile and press a sweet, chaste peck to his lips.

it seems as if he himself didn’t expect it as his eyes snap open, hand coming up to cup his lips in shock. when he finally uncovers his mouth, you see there’s a dazed, giddy grin on his face that let’s you know the smooch was very welcome pleasant surprise.

your phones simultaneously go off, alerting you of incoming messages. it’s a given that it’s none other than the group chat.

[3:15 pm] nana: that smooch was romcom worthy i’m so impressed right now

[3:15 pm] jeno: shotaro is living proof that being a gentleman has its perks! everyone in this gc should take notes!

[3:15 pm] yangx2: HERE IHAVE THE VDIEO OF THE WHOELE THIGN IF ANYOEN WANTS IT

[3:16 pm] yangx2: attachment: 1 video

[3:16 pm] yangx2: SORURY FOR THE TYPSO MY TEARS ARE BLURRIGN THE KYEBIOARD

[3:16 pm] renjun: can we get boba now?

[3:16 pm] renjun: oh wait my bad, congrats to the new couple :-)

[3:16 pm] renjun: to celebrate they should pay for everyone’s drinks.. just a thought

[3:17 pm] hyuck: ur welcome, y/n and shotaro ;)

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serosinkyslut · 4 years ago

Text

“I need you”

Sero x fem!Black reader

Warnings: mentions of drugs, smut, p r a i s e, slight bruising, some overstim w/ nipple play, panic attack, angst, choking, and squirting

Summary: You’re about to tell Sero a thing or two after getting a call from him at 3am. But his response leads to a different discussion…

Word count: about 2.7k

Author’s note: Quick question/// how did we all come to an agreement that Sero smokes?? Is this canon? Could it be canon?

Authors note pt. 2: I didn’t think the angst would be so long, so just skip to the {***}asterisks if you just wanna read the smut

The Sero you know has always been calm, cool, and collected. When you receive a phone call at 3am, you assume it’s one of his usual antics; him asking you if you’ve heard Megan’s new song, explaining why Denki is such a dumbass, or his take on the Netflix show you told him to watch. The bright light of your phone stings your eyes before you hear the ringtone. Taki Taki by Selena Gomez blasts from your nightstand- a song Sero knew annoyed the crap out of you, and hence forced you to set it as his ringtone after a bet you lost months ago. Hearing it so many times now, after all, Sero was your best friend and boyfriend, the tune wasn’t as bad. As you reach over to answer it, silencing the dumb song, you’re semi-pissed off and ready to tell Sero that whatever he has to say can definitely wait til morning. You were exhausted and had just seen Sero only a few hours ago. However, when you answer the phone, the soft but audible sniffle instantly shuts you up.

There’s a shaky breath before “y/n...I....” he pauses, trying to regain control of his broken voice. Your heart squeezes terribly as he tried to force himself to talk. What had happened? You were just laughing together not too long ago.

“Sero? What’s wrong? Are you okay??”

You hear him struggling to tell you what’s going on with him, but only a strangled cry comes out as he bursts into tears. You’ve never heard Sero this broken, this distraught. Hell, you’ve hardly ever seen him have a semi bad day. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. It hurts you to know that your bestfriend is in so much pain.

“I need you,” he manages to get out through gasps.

“I’m on my way right now,” you tell him in a smooth, stable voice. You’re scared that it’ll only freak him out even more if he knew how panicked you were. In a total frenzy, you throw on a big shirt and grab your car keys on the way out, not even thinking about your bonnet still on your head, your raggedy house slippers on your feet, or even the fact that you're dashing out your apartment at 3am with no pants on. You can only think about Sero, and how bad he must be feeling to call you in absolute tears. You don’t bother with a seatbelt, and hardly look out for other cars as you zoom to his apartment. A trip that should have taken 20 minutes didn’t even take 10 as you park in the spot Sero was convinced was just for you. A space directly in front of his apartment that was always vacant, and also so happened to be right next to his car. Your feet fly you to the second floor and you fumble searching for the red cheetah printed key to his apartment that he copied for you. He thought it was hilarious how tacky it was, and even customized his own key so that you guys could match. That was Sero for you- always thinking of you. Always going the extra mile to see you happy. And now that precious boy was suffering, crying alone in his apartment. “Wait...is he even in his apartment?” You slam your palm to your forehead. You didn’t even bother asking where he was before rushing over. Fuck. Sending a silent prayer, you flip out the red key and open the door.

As soon as you do, a gush of smoke exits, flooding your nostrils with the smell of weed. You can hardly see into the space, trying to make it safely to Sero’s room where you figure he must be, smoking in his little alcove by the window with the air diffuser on. Instead, you hear his sniffling from the living room, almost blocked out by the tv which, ironically, is in fact playing the Netflix show that you recommended to him last week. Dragging your eyes from the flashing tv, you focus your attention to the shaking lump of covers on the sofa. Taking deep breaths, you walk towards him.

“Sero?” you whisper quietly and he freezes. He doesn’t respond, but you know he heard you. “Sero... I’m here”. You take a few more wary steps before you place your hand on the blanket he’s hiding under and peel it always carefully, revealing the top of his head. You bend down to get a look at his face, but when you try, he only lowers his head even more. You smooth his hair down with one hand, and place the other ever so gently under his chin, trying to get him to look at you. “Look at me, Sero. Please? Tell me what’s wrong”. Sero, being one to never deny you anything you ask for, tilts his head up gingerly. His eyes are totally bloodshot, and you can’t tell if it’s from the weed, the crying, or both. But either way, it breaks you I’m so many different ways. Sero opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You slip into the thick covers with him and press him to your chest, wrapping your arms around his head. Almost instinctively, he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into you while gripping you tightly like his life depends on it. You keep smoothing down his hair, whispering a mix of “everything’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay. You’re safe,” while peckering kisses on his head. It takes a few minutes to calm down from his.. panic attack? Jesus, you want to know what’s wrong so you can fix it. Once he’s stable, he finally looks up at you with those big beautiful eyes and kisses your chin. Then your jaw, neck, collar bones, and finally stopping at the gap between your breasts. He sighs in to you, face between your breasts, and reluctantly releases his grip around your waist. All of a sudden, everything spills out at once. He rambles on about how 5 civilians had died right in front of him two months ago. 3 of them being children. How he could’ve saved them if he had been a better hero. How he was having nightmares about them, and about you. It could have been you that day. Would he be able to save you then? Would you resent him for being so weak? He’d been getting high almost every night to ease his anxiety, but he finally cracked when the Netflix show you gave him had a child die in the last scene of the 2nd season. That was the trigger for his first panic attack. When he called you, he was right in the middle of it, and couldn’t think of someone better to contact. And his gut was right. Just you holding him in your arms made the bad thoughts go away. You were better than the weed, better than all the numerous distractions he had to make him think about everything but the accident. He felt safe. He felt loved. He never knew that was what he needed most. Now that he was calm in your arms, he wanted to reciprocate all the love you always showered him.

*** [here’s the smut you whores]

He began pressing sloppy, wet kisses against the base of your neck, sucking so hard on the skin that you knew for a fact it would leave a bruise or two. “I love you y/n. You’re so good to me,” he breathes before licking long stripes along your collarbone. “I love you so much”. Dammit this man was high as hell. You felt some guilt bubbling in the pit of your stomach at Sero’s advances. Should you be enjoying this as much as you are right now? Your best friend just had a panic attack. Yet, the feeling was quickly replaced by a pleasurable heat as he firmly grabbed your ass with one hand and pressed his boner against your cunt, pushing almost painfully hard through your thin T-shirt. It wasn’t until that moment you remembered all you had on was this shirt and underwear.

With his other hand, he removes your bonnet and threads his hands in your curls, getting tangled easily while he lightly scraped your scalp, right at the crown. Right where you liked it. You let out a soft moan that was met with a slight throb of Sero’s cock. “You’re fucking perfect, Princesa. Your hair and skin feel so perfect. So perfect for Papi”. He bites down on your collar bone, receiving a sharp yelp in surprise and a tug at his hair. “ohhh hermosa you feel so good,” he groans, his Spanish beginning to flow as you both get even more turned on. “All I need is you, y/n,” he says. Carefully, he takes his hand out of your kinks and places one on your hip, rubbing small circles with his nails. He stops for a moment in this position. He murmurs, almost to himself, “You’re all I need, mi cielito. After all the bullshit I put you through, I don’t deserve you,” he starts to choke a bit on his words at the end, and you sense the tears coming. You love Sero, and in no way did he not deserve you. He needed to know that. Pulling his lips away from you, which are now swollen, you stare into his eyes and tell him “I love you, and only you Sero. I don’t want or need anyone else”. A quick tear escapes from his eye and it slides right into the crook of your arm. You wipe it away with the palm of your hand, keeping it pressed on his cheek. “I mean it, Sero”. A slow, lopsided smile presents itself on his face. “That was pretty cheesy y/n. I never pegged you for the sentimental type”. You mirror his smile, your heart soars at the inkling of normalcy between you two. “Oh fuck off,” you say playfully pushing his head away. “We both know that I’m a huge romantic. Besides,” dropping your voice and gently pressing your lips against his ear, “no one else could get me this wet in a few minutes. Sero giggled at you, yes giggled, and shook his head.

“Horny ass. Let me have this damn opportunity to be lovey-dovey” Sero’s fake agitation is so forced you couldn’t help but outrightly laugh. After the moment passes though, you suddenly become serious. “Are you sure about this Sero?”

“I’m always sure when it comes to you hermosa”

This time, he places a slow, deep kiss to your mouth, swiping a hot tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. As usual, you give it to him without a second thought.

Sex with Sero is always passionate, but today felt extremely intense. You’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t turn you on. Plus, there was so much smoke in the apartment that you had to be getting a second hand high right now.

Sitting up and dragging you with him, covers sliding to the floor, he positions you two at the edge of the couch, your back facing a blaring tv that neither of you bother to turn off as you straddle him. One swift tug has your shirt off, revealing your pebbled nipples and a lacey red underwear you don’t even remember putting on.

A low whistle leaves Sero’s lips. “You couldn’t possibly have mistaken my phone call for a booty call, could you? ‘Cause this is sexy as fuck mami”

Wasting no more time, he wraps his mouth around one nipple, flicking the dexterous muscle back and forth. The other nipple pinched between his fingers while he pulls and squeezes harshly, the pain meshing deliciously with the pleasure. With his free hand, he wraps his lanky fingers around the back of your neck, encircling almost completely around your throat. Yanking your head back with just the right amount of force, you can’t help the loud, high pitched moan that leaves you. Your hips spasm along his thigh, leaving a visible line of slit on his pants. Sero hums against your skin, tightening his grip on you, “you like that, don’t you? Grinding your cunt on my thigh while my hands choke your pretty little neck”

You were going to respond, but his teeth bite down on your breast, the other one met by a thumb flicking across the bud quickly. Your hips buck against his leg, the pressure causing a flood of incoherent sounds. You’re a mess of moans, white pulsing at the edges of your vision, heat rocking through your entire body. And just when you think the pain starts to be too much, he presses his knee right against your clit, making you see stars. “Sero!!” Your screams and gasps are so noisy that you know the neighbors are sure of who’s making you feel this good. His mouth rips from your nipple with a pop, but instantly latches onto your lips.

He uses both of his hands to palm your ass, grinding your hips faster and harder, your clit exploding with pleasure. Eyes squeezed shut, you slam your arms down on him, clawing at his shoulders. The feeling was so fast, so intense, too good, you were being sent over the edge. Your words were incomprehensible, you could hardly even speak to tell him you were close, so so close.

“Fuck! Sero I-”

“Shit y/n you look so fucking hot,” he grunts against your lips, “Please cum, cum for papi. You’re so pretty on top of me y/n. Cum all over my pants with that pretty pussy of yours baby”. One hand smacks down across your tits, making you jump so hard you almost fall off his leg. He never stops gripping and kneading at them, rougher than ever, before twisting your nipples again. You claw at his shoulders, practically sobbing from the pleasure, screaming “yes yes yes! So good! So...!”

Another slap makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, your orgasm building in your core. He squishes your tits together, and plunges both nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking fervently. At the same time he bounces his knee, you feel the burning knot coming undone. “Papi, I’m gonna cum, I’m coming, I’m-”

You couldn’t say anymore, as a gush of hot liquid squirted all over his leg. Sero hums with your tits still in his mouth, the tiny vibrations sending bolts of electricity down your spine. You gradually came back down from your high (and not the weed high), Sero still rocking you slowly against his pant leg. When you come back to reality, your head falls forward, instantly tired and tense from that world-changing orgasm. After opening your eyes, you spot a wet circle right at the center of Sero’s legs. “Sero, did you just cum?”

He glances down, and his eyes widened when he also sees the sticky wetness seeping through. He looks back up at you, blessing you with his wide, toothy smile. “I guess I did, huh?”

Bitch is high as hell. You chuckle slightly before you hear a nearly inaudible squelch under you. Now you look between your own legs, and freeze at what you see.

Shit

“Did I… did I just?”

“Yeah,” Sero snorted, “You squirted on my thigh. I think it got on the couch too.”

Oh my god. You press your palms to your eyes immediately, totally embarrassed by what you did. Not to mention the fact that you were basically naked, while Sero was still fully clothed. How did this even happen? You’ve never squirted before. Did you have some sort of torture kink? Your tits hurt like hell right now. Turning your head away, you say “that’s so embarrassing”

“Embarrassing? Look at me” Sero takes you by the wrists and removes your hands from your face, but your eyes still look away. “Look at me baby,” he persists, squeezing your cheeks between his thumb and index with his lanky fingers, forcing your eyes on his. His blissed out eyes are still glossed over with an incredible lustful stare. “That was fucking hot, y/n. Can you do it again? Please?”

#sero hanta #hanta sero x reader #fanfic #sero x black!reader #mha #mha smut #smut #hanta sero #class 1a #class 1 a x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero fic #bnha #bnha smut #black girls #anime

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johobi · 5 years ago

Text

Falling, Falling, Gone

Word count: 5.8k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: None really, it’s my first ‘SFW’ fic, though there is some extremely bad language in here. And there might be an erection because I can’t help myself.

A/N: This is the fourth and final ‘drabble’ for the drabble game I ran ages ago. Prompt: “The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you.”

Music inspo: Don’t Be So Serious, Baby Don’t Stop, Waste It On Me

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477485

Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection.

So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

Banana and peanut butter become pulp in your mouth as you glare out the kitchen window. It's so grey out there. Greyer than it has any right to be. As if your dour mood has polluted the very atmosphere. Rain lashes the exterior in leaden pellets, each one compounding your headache like a rap on the head. Don't be so serious, your bluetooth speaker croons as you chew and chew, unblinking. The bridge of your glasses slip further down your nose but you don’t correct them. Don't be so serious.

Oh, but it's all so serious.

Your final portfolio lacks in ways your mentor is incapable of articulating, and you only have so much time to fix it. Your college life is coming to a close. There are frighteningly few opportunities out there and they’re sure to spurn a sham like you. What do you do now? Where do you go from here—

"God, you listen to such depressing music," a husky voice sounds. It’s thick with sleep and horribly attractive. You hear his feet next; big and bare as they slap the tile floor and disrupt the ambience.

Yes, dismal is an ambience.

Before you glimpse the interloper himself, his fingers pilfer your next mouthful of toast. His other hand has your phone and is skipping through your carefully curated playlist of moody tunes. With all the scant energy you can muster, you glower at him.

“Taehyung.”

Soccer captain. Campus celebrity. Doofus.

Unlikely friend and unlikelier crush. But life is strange, and he is both these things. Indeed, he proclaims himself your best friend to all who will listen. As for the matter of your tender feelings, however, he is oblivious. And will remain so.

Taehyung is long-legged and limber-bodied, but round of face and feature. A kitten in a tiger’s pelt. Will mew for affection and roar when angry. Has quite literally nudged your hand for pets and raged at referees in the same afternoon. There is usually no in-between.

Your scowl goes unseen. He sidles past like the oblivious buffoon he is and continues to tamper with Spotify. Smears his peanut-buttered thumb around your phone display. Ugh. You brush back your hood and fix him again with extra scorn.

"Actually, douchebag, it’s good music for thinking. And I have a headache. I hardly wanna listen to something like—no, don't you dare put fucking Party Rock on right now. Tae!"

It’s too late. The lanky idiot is already gesticulating to the beginning beats. Your phone is an unreachable hostage in his flapping hands. You’re about to lunge for it but he preempts the attack by smothering you with your own hood. “Tae.” Your whining sounds all the more pitiful muffled. “Everyfing hurfs. ‘m hungover. Pleathe.”

Taehyung relents after further, strangled pleas. Unwraps you with a grin that grows like the sunrise. For a moment, you’re dazzled. “Sorry. No more torture,” he chuckles all low, hair in his eyes. His locks are long and always untamed. An aureate crown befitting of his celebrity status.

One swipe and he’s muted the racket and returned your phone. You turn the sticky thing over in your hands, rueing the day you met the overgrown imp. “How did you get it this dirty…?”

You go ignored and Taehyung gets closer. He scrutinises your hunched and hoodied appearance with a thoughtful hum. “Headache?” A rounded nose and two brown eyes come into focus. "Hungover? How? I didn't see you go out last night."

Averse to such study, you shy away. "Well, I did." You did not. You stayed home and guzzled $4 Prosecco while lamenting your trash portfolio. But you aren’t about to regale him with that pitiful tale. The sheerness of shame prevents you. Taehyung would be so sweet about it, too! So buoying, with his sunny smiles and fervent encouragement: "Why were you crying over that?!" He'd ask. "Your work is amazing. Seriously amazing. I love everything you do!" He'd gush. "People will be stumbling over themselves to hire you!" He'd continue, naively. And that hurts the most, because he just doesn't get it. Taehyung is a sponsored, collegiate athlete that's graduating into a guaranteed draft. He is—and always has been—praised widely as up-and-coming. The kid has had scouts scrapping for him mid-way through high school!

You, however, are small fry, swimming in a shoal of other unknowns, leaping for the hook of internship. Your dreams of animating for Disney died long back. They dwelled with Walt now.

But you don’t resent Taehyung for any of it. Ever. He’s a paragon. Born for the limelight. Has sweat and bled oceans for it. And for some reason he insists that you, too, are deserving of that same renown. Why? He’s ridiculous. Far too kind. And—Christ, he has a big dick.

"Taehyung, can you please not shove your tiny fucking penis in my face while I'm trying to eat? I'm nauseous enough as it is."

The soccer captain rests a foot on the seat next to you, giving you ungainly insight into his crotch. Taehyung, as he often, inexplicably is, is clad only in his boxer-briefs. This would be alarming were it not so goddamn commonplace. He is allergic to clothes.

According to him, he’s a naturist.

According to you, he’s an attention whore.

Taehyung points to his elevated foot, but it's a little difficult to ignore the bulge he's brandishing. "Do you understand the concept of inappropriate proximity and your current state of undress?" You rattle on, words slurred half by OJ, half by fluster. He simply points again, and with more insistence. Relenting, you follow the line of his finger to his pretty, if gigantic, foot. Then notice the ink around his ankle, black and fresh. "Oh, wow, you got a tattoo? Cool!"

"Yep! I didn't ever really think about getting one 'til I saw yours. They were so cool I became kinda obsessed with getting one. So I finally did it last night."

‘Til he saw yours? Your stomach flutters. It's not the nausea. You smother it with more orange juice. "Well, that's awesome, Tae. You'll probably want more eventually. I would've gone with you if I'd known you were gonna go alone."

Finally, he lowers his leg. It’s a small mercy. But then, for no discernible, earthly reason, Taehyung begins flexing his many defined muscles. His calves in particular catch your attention. They’re so goddamned thick. They ripple. Fucking soccer players. "Hm? Oh, I wasn't alone. I went with some guys from the team." He ogles his reflection in the microwave door.

How can you avert your eyes when his pecs dance so compellingly? It all becomes a bit too much. "Okay, what are you doing? Seriously, what? I know you're into yourself, but this is ridiculous.” He stops. Snorts. Thank God. “If you were with the guys, why did you come back here last night? I thought you’d go back to your dorm."

Finally Taehyung sits, but he’s spread-legged and that’s perhaps worse than what he was doing just now. He’s 6ft of pure, hewn sex and just so fucking casual about it. He reclines. "Some of them took girls home last night so I needed somewhere to go and you're always an open door." Finger guns follow a cheesy wink.

You scoff, but he's right. You’d do anything for the big-hearted clown. Open door? You'd be the doormat under his soccer cleats, licking them free of dirt— "You're lucky Areum isn’t here right now. Don't think she’d take kindly to having some almost-naked oaf clambering into her bed."

"You say that, but she’s tried to hit this several times.” Taehyung is smug, brows high on his forehead. Yours lower harshly. “Tell her I slept in her bed last night. She’ll cream herself thinking about it later, I guarantee you."

“You’re gross. And can you stop—why do you keep flexing? There’s just me here.” You peer about for emphasis. Taehyung is again admiring his form in some burnished surface. “No-one is looking. Or cares.” Contrarily, you’re doing both those things. But he needn’t be privy to that.

"This is serious. I need to work on my angles.” He contorts himself into something of a pretzel to peek at his back muscles. “We're holding a hook-up auction at our dorm to raise money for a graduation blow-out. And I'm on sale. Do you think I need to work on my back?"

You ease into a squint. "When you said serious, I thought serious words were about to follow."

"I am being serious!" Again Taehyung flexes, biceps bulging by his ears like an overfed turkey’s thighs. "How much do you think I'm worth?"

The world.

"I dunno. I'd take you for free, I guess, if you were the last one left."

Taehyung is unperturbed by your acerbic wit. It ricochets off him like rubber bullets would a muscle-bound ox. He is your greatest adversary. The bastard lacquers his lips until they’re plump and glossy and boasting a smirk.

He’s always doing this.

Always moistening himself.

"Oh yeah? Well, I think you'll be disappointed." A boxy smile emerges. "I got girls and guys already approaching me about it. Some of the guys literally just wanna buy me for mentoring. I mean, that’s more effort than kissing, but—" He shrugs. The thought goes unfinished.

"That makes sense. You are a God among these mere mortals, Taetae." It's not sarcasm this time. Taehyung senses it. The grin he returns is life-affirming. You're so close to reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. Telling him you're proud. Telling him you most likely, maybe, love him. But you notice you've dragged your sleeve through peanut butter—”Ah, shit,”—and you can tell him how you feel some other day.

Some other day.

"Some of them just wanna make out too, of course, and, like, I'm happy to comply. It's all for charity." His altruism knows no limits.

"Charity, huh?" You snort. Taehyung's mouth grows more square at your incredulity. "Who else is up for bidding, then?"

"Mostly guys from the team and dorm. There are some mutuals who just wanna get in on the action, too. Uh, you know Kim Namjoon?" He measures your reaction. When you give none: "Jeon Jungkook?"

Disinterest mellows your features. "Oh, right. Cool."

"So you don't like Jeon Jungkook?" Taehyung's eyes are eager, his body poised. Anticipating.

"What? No. What gave you that idea? I've talked to him, like, twice." Your face crumples as you towel your soiled sleeve. The peanut butter smears into a tragic, shit-brown stain. "Damn, that's never coming out."

"He's gonna be so disappointed. He might even cry." Taehyung heaves a hammy sigh and clutches at his breast. There’s nothing the captain enjoys more than clowning his subordinates. "Kook likes you so much. He's really into your whole androgynous fuckboi thing you got going on. He literally said, 'She's like a mystery, man. I'm not sure if she's a girl or a guy and—like, I'm not like that, but that's hot.'"

If your eyes could roll past the bounds of their sockets, they would. "Wow, what a poet. He sounds like a douchebag and I'm even less interested now. Fuckboi? Is that really the vibe I give off?" You don't fuck full stop. Nor were you aware you could dress like you do.

"I dunno. You just seem kinda like a gremlin to me. Or like that weird guy from Death Note," Taehyung is quick to reassure you. Cool. You’re fucking overjoyed that he perceives you that way. Not as a goddess, or his beautiful, sexy soulmate, or the princess that wanders the spires of his captive heart. No. A gremlin. Or L.

"Well, you got me there, son."

"What about Kim Namjoon?" Taehyung presses, urgent again. He picks at your bread crusts with one hand, head cradled delicately in the other. The boy could be a world-class model, too. His loose, dark curls hang like a Van Gogh nightscape, framing the planes of his unmarred face. It hurts to look at him. It hurts to be looked at.

A self-conscious shuffle. "What about him? I don't know who that is." You flick away his foraging fingers but he draws you into an impromptu game of thumb-war in retaliation. It's the only thing to extract a smile from you today.

Taehyung looks sceptical. "He's the physio student with our team! You literally talked to him all day during this season's semi-final." His lengthy digits best yours easily. But though the match is won, he doesn’t withdraw his hand. Instead he encroaches further. Thumbs your wrist. Encompasses your knuckles in a soft, warm palm. He’s clasping you like an enamoured suitor might their bashful sweetheart, and it’s very strange. What is he doing? His mind looks to be elsewhere, now.

"Uh...—oh. Oh." Yours ambles back to you. "Yeah, he was really nice, but you know my rule. No—"

"—dating in final year. Yeah, I know. I'll tell him that if he asks about you again." Taehyung has returned, too. His hand is gone. Your gooseflesh ebbs with it.

With a cough, you sober. "I think the auction's a bit stupid, really, Tae. You sure you wanna do it?"

"Stupid? Why?" He shimmies in close, smug on his face and intolerably naked the rest of the way down. His skin is hot and golden and just far too close. "You're only saying that because you're jealous, right?" He tickles your chin to keep you honest and your eyes on him. You seize and squeeze the offending hand because he might be right and now you’re embarrassed. "The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you," he goes on to say, brazen as the smirk defiling his cherubic cheeks.

"Some rather large conclusion-jumping going on there," you smile, sweet as sugared cyanide. Your vice-grip tightens until he’s pouting in repentance. "I meant it's stupid to put yourself in a potentially uncomfortable situation if you don't want to kiss that person."

"I'm just joking!" he whimpers like the overlarge puppy he is and you free him of his snare. Because you would die for this big, soppy boy and his big, soppy eyes. “You’re so grouchy today.”

‘The joke won’t land if it collides with the truth, Taehyung,’ you muse. You expect him to know this despite never having apprised him of your situation. You’re jealous and cowardly and completely unreasonable. You want him for yourself but you never want him to know that.

If he wants your candour he should be a telepath. Simple.

Irritated by your own nonsense, you lash out at the unsuspecting boy. "You know what? I was joking, too. I remember Namjoon, he was hot. And smart. I think I'll cheat on my dating ban this once and bid on him. He has super nice lips, so."

Taehyung simply smiles. "Oh, okay. Cool! Glad you’re gonna come along."

Your threat proves ineffective because he doesn’t like you like that. Wouldn’t give a shit if Namjoon rawed you on stage while you stared him down. You stall on that thought because it’s kinda hot. “It’ll be great. Can’t wait to get my tongue down his throat.”

“Hell yeah! I knew you liked him.”

Yep, Taehyung is oblivious to your pining. As he should be. Because outwardly, your pining consists of nothing more than the odd, lingering look here and there. The balled-up sketches of him he will never see. A secret smile if you’re feeling particularly sentimental. Other than that, you're steely. Poker-faced. Rarely blind-sided by his allure, especially now that you've acclimated to his penchant for exhibitionism.

"Thank you in advance for your patronage." Rising from his seat, Taehyung comes to a stand behind you and leans. Encircles your shoulders with his terribly athletic arms and puts his lips to your ear. You're like a feral cat in the arms of a senseless child. You're bristling. "If he turns out to be a jerk and tries something he shouldn't, I'll protect you." For a moment, you're touched enough to unclench a little. "With these guns." And then you choke between his straining biceps and vie to repay him in kind.

----

The common room of Taehyung's dorm has been crudely transformed. Some questionable construction has taken place in order to build the catwalk centrepiece. Sofas and tables line the walls, thrust from the limelight. You've occupied the drinks table for the last 45 minutes, from the second you entered this place. You harbour an intense dislike for the chaotic energy of Taehyung's dorm. Machismo rages noisily between these walls and you much prefer less testosterone-drenched environments. Nevertheless, despite it all you're here on an endeavour this evening. One your idiot, rampant mouth has obligated you to. To buy time with a guy that's perfectly nice and all, but isn’t Taehyung.

Kim Namjoon makes eyes at you from the head of the runway, awaiting his musical cue. The beer you just slurped down bubbles up. You have to look away. Unfortunately, when you do, Taehyung is immediately there, his face in yours, his thumb and fingers pulling at your cheeks. "Hey you, don't get too drunk, okay? I don't trust a single man here. Especially not nice-as-pie Namjoon."

Nice-as-pie Namjoon has chosen some Bruno Mars track by the sounds of it. The auction-goers' excitement ramps up considerably.

Unable to move your captured face, your eyes sweep the room. "Not even your own teammates?" you scoff cynically, swatting at his hands until he’s baited into a game of slapsies. "Now who sounds jealous?"

Taehyung stops for a moment, thoughtful. "You know, you're right. I'm extremely jealous. I want Namjoon all to myself. He gives the best massages. And a happy ending when I ask nicely." And then he's back to rough-housing you, slapping your upper arms to alternating beats. "You look cute tonight. Your outfit, I mean," he offers up out of nowhere, so quiet you almost lose it to the bass. "He's lucky."

But you look exactly the same as you did earlier that day. Exactly the same as that afternoon in the cafeteria when he ribbed you for raiding Billie Eilish's Good Will donations. "Um, thanks. I guess." You're genuine, but don’t sound it. You can't look at him for fear of revealing the dopey grin that has hijacked your face.

"You're welcome, buddy." A large palm flattens your hair. His fingers get all in there, ruffling it until it probably looks more akin a bird's nest. Is Taehyung trying to sabotage you? Also, buddy? "Look, Namjoon's walking."

You turn and see that he is. Strutting, moreover, albeit awkwardly. It's obvious that the lanky boy is unaccustomed to the same attention the team he services is. Nevertheless, there are whoops and hollers aplenty for the handsome blonde dork, and you, too, catch yourself smiling. How can you not, when he pokes at his dimples so? The others seem captivated, too, though less by the finger-hearts and more by his form-fitting tracksuit.

“I’d wrap my car around a tree if he was the tree,” one auction-goer confides to her friend. “And then I’d wrap my legs around—”

“Yeah, we get it Lisa.”

Lisa quiets.

Namjoon’s endless legs sidle to a stop at the catwalk's end, directly opposite you. His bespectacled eyes meet your bespectacled eyes. For one, long second, the interest is palpable. But then he breaks, and casts his gaze down to his FILAs.

"Okay, he's, like, in love with you, I think," Taehyung whisper-yells, hands aflurry in applause. "Are you gonna bid?"

Shouts puncture the cheering either side of the room.

"$10!"

"$20!"

Neither of them are you.

The evening’s auctioneer - Taehyung's partner-in-slime Park Jimin - echoes each cry that rings out, giggling into a tinny karaoke mic. "$20 for our team physio?! Is that all you got ladies and gents? Do I have to remind you this guy can grope away pain with his magic hands?"

Namjoon spins toward Jimin's makeshift podium of an upturned bookcase and menaces him with his eyes. Well, it would be menacing were the man not as threatening as a ribbon-wrapped basket of newborn sloths.

The striker backpedals. "Okay, the massage might not be included, but don't let that deter you! He kisses like a pro!"

Screams of how do you know that, Jimin?! erupt and the throng grows ever more wild. Namjoon is redder than the cup you're strangling.

"Are you gonna bid?! You're gonna miss your chance!" For some reason Taehyung is still here, harassment game still strong. He should be preparing to walk next, but sees fit to pester you instead. And because of that, he's caught you in your lie, bare-faced and blushing.

No, you are not going to bid on Kim Namjoon.

"Uh, oh no, I forgot my purse," you grumble around the rim of your next drink, gulping it down like the bottom is your way out of this God-awful situation.

Then what are you doing here?

"It's right there." Taehyung pokes the cross-body bag hanging traitorously by your side.

"Oh, is it?" You reach for another cup even while burdened with one. Anything to sidetrack this conversation.

Taehyung intervenes with a firm hand. Swaddles your knuckles ‘til the shaking stops. You’re shaking? Beer slops over the sides, unnoticed. “___?”

Stupid, warm hand. And why are his fingers so fucking delicate for a footballer? He should model jewellery. Wedding rings.

Yours.

His ringless fingers close around your wrist when you persist in avoiding his gaze. The ruse is almost up. Fuck. There’s nothing left to do but to look at him.

You do, ever so timidly. “What?”

"What are you doing?" Puzzlement becomes him well. Why is he so goddamn handsome? "If you aren't gonna bid on Namjoon, why did you come?"

Silence, but for the pump of background Bruno Mars.

‘You. I came for you. You were the plan all along. Not him,’ your mind screams.

You, however, just stare.

"Going—going—gone! Sold for $70! Come claim your kiss!" Jimin can hardly stop himself from squealing. For a guy that beds girls on the daily, his sincere excitement over simple lip-locking is amusing.

Taehyung's teammates hail him from the drapery behind the catwalk but he won't yet go. No, he insists on searing holes into the side of your face while you watch Namjoon get sloppy on-stage with some girl you don't know. They're really getting into it. Damn, he forgot about you quick. In their fervour they edge towards the bounds of the catwalk, too absorbed in one another to notice. Thankfully, voyeuristic bystanders are on-hand to catch them before they fall.

"Kim Taehyung! How many times do I have to call you?! Get over here before I kick your fucking ass," Jungkook roars across the hubbub, halfway through the room. He enacts the violent gesture for emphasis and knees some unsuspecting girl in the ass. Immediately the macho facade drops and he's all doe-eyed and buck-toothed, prostrating himself before the girl who actually seems grateful to have been assaulted by one Jeon Jungkook. Between his hushed apologies, Jungkook shoots Taehyung a look something murderous. And then he sees you and throws a shy wave, the kind a little kid might when cajoled by his parents.

"Ew." The word comes up involuntarily, like bile.

A deep cackle emanates from beside you. "Okay, guess I'm up." Taehyung squares his shoulders. His mouth, too. He's a very angular boy. "Better get my kit on. Cheer for me!" With a pat to your shoulder, he makes for Jungkook. Leaves you with an insidious dread. His soccer kit is your weakness.

No, he is your weakness.

"Next up - and I'm sure most of you here tonight are anticipating this guy - our very own Team Captain and soon-to-be Major League Soccer player, Kim Taehyung!" Banshee-shrieking reverberates at Jimin's announcement. "Stick around, he'll be out in a few minutes!"

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. You turn from the catwalk and fully embrace the drinks table, supporting yourself with two hands and God's grace.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

No way.

This wasn’t an actual plan. Just a fantasy.

You're not gonna tell him like this.

You're not gonna tell him ever.

All you have to do is just say you turned out to support him. You rarely get to go out with him anyway, what with his ever-growing entourage. Taehyung would appreciate that, and he'd never have to know that you came here for cornier purposes.

You're not a big gesture kind of girl.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

Distantly, you wished Areum were here. She'd have slapped some sense into you, maybe even literally.

No. Wait.

The devious cow would've talked you into doing it. For sure. She has a flair for the dramatic.

"Sorry, can I just—thanks." Someone with offensively bony elbows bulldozes you aside and passes a drink to her companion. An apology is on the tip of your tongue but evaporates into the ether upon seeing the twosome in question. Both were complicit in the casual bullying you endured during your high school years. They don't appear to recognise you now. Not that they even spare your pitiful person a glance.

"Who's up next?" the worst one queries, cup snug to her bosom.

"Taehyung," the lackey answers, glee upending her petulant features. "Kim Taehyung."

An elbow jabs you again as the girl struggles with the clasp on her clutch. Her overlong claws impede her. "Oh shit, already? I thought we had more time. Shit."

"Nope. It's go time. Hurry up, girl, competition's gonna be fierce." The other one watches her digital acrobatics to get into her purse.

Oh God. She has so much money. There's no doubt in your mind she'll trump everyone present.

No. Oh, no.

Not her. Not with him.

Your mind flits through premonitions of the future. They’re all rather grim. The last one is that of a wedding. A marriage between this dreadful bitch and your most cherished of friends, Taehyung. It's garish and tacky - she's denied him input, of course - and the ceremony is filled with faces that once mocked you mercilessly. None of Taehyung's friends are there; indeed, he is no longer even part of his team. Her possessiveness and his undying loyalty have put an end to his blossoming career. He looks sad beneath a mask of happy. Eyes that once blazed with the embers of ambition are doused by despondency. He is a husk.

And their first meeting is this auction, this cute anecdotal encounter of oh, I just had to have him, and when I kissed him I knew.

Just a glimpse at this dystopian future disturbs you silly. Conviction, while tentative, burgeons in your heart.

You can't let her have him. Anyone but this noxious cunt.

And suddenly you've money in hand, too. Bills you withdrew specifically for this purpose, and yet would sooner have left them crisp and cold in your purse than followed through. But public humiliation is endlessly preferable to damning Taehyung to a kiss with this serpent. Because it won't stop there. It won't just be a kiss but an appeal for more. She’ll say it’s no strings attached, but she doesn't attach strings. She weaves webs. You recall her high school boyfriend. He was a well-performing, jovial guy that always waved hi. And she consumed him, heart-first, ‘til he was naught but a sunken-eyed zombie. He took a leave of absence that never ended.

Sexy, dangerous synth sounds from the speakers either side the catwalk. Ah, shit. Not that song. Any song but that one. NCT U’s Baby Don’t Stop. Of course Taehyung picked that. It fills the air with a fatal drum beat and in he comes through the curtains, strutting like he is the rhythm. The room, rather than become uproarious, falls eerily quiet. Everyone breathes as one entranced being, and no one moves but him. Halfway down the catwalk he body-rolls with the fluidity of wind-rippled satin, burgeoning from his chest and snapping at the hips. Prospective bidders gasp, as do you. And then his thumb is in the hem of his shirt, luring it upwards, exposing his olive expanses inch by mouthwatering inch. You see his abs near every day, but in this context, backed by that song, you find yourself as winded as everyone else. His stomach tautens for show, feeding into loose-waisted shorts that sit far too low. Even you haven’t been privy to this much. And especially not the alluring trail of hair that thickens at his waistband.

Someone shatters the stupor and screams, “$80!”

“Geez, you’re a horny bunch.” Jimin’s laughter peals. “We already have $80. Any advance on—“

“$100!” Some breathless sap cries next. “Oh my God, look at his thighs!”

And look you do. Taehyung grooves at the catwalk’s end, shirt back in place but hiking up the hems of his shorts instead. You almost glimpse groin. He’s absolutely shameless, straining the muscles of his thighs until they’re lewdly pronounced. They’re veritable tree trunks. His calves, too, defy belief. Rock-hard and rounded and begging to be bitten. The party-goers crowding round his feet must think similarly.

What distracts you most, however, are Taehyung’s straying fingers. They skirt his crotch in a salacious manner, stretching the material where it shouldn’t. Accentuating things they shouldn’t. You may pass out.

All the while his eyes are down, maybe closed. You want to see his face more than anything. The playful smirk on his plump, wet lips and the focus in his brows.

“$120!!” You almost lose your head to a cash-strangling fist beside you.

It's her. Pointy-elbowed bitch.

But you aren't thrusting your student loan up just yet. You're in the middle of an almost holy, revelatory experience. Taehyung is still undulating and provoking the crowd, who are no longer hushed but whooping like chimps in heat. His shirt is off and helicoptering overhead. He allows one overcome girl at the sidelines to verify the thew of his biceps and bags himself another bid. You, however, do nothing but gawp, bills clutched to your chest and your eyes affixed to the glorious grin that breaks across his face. His eyes open onto you and then it's you you see at his wedding, standing afore him, bouquet instead of a wad of cash. You want to be the one. Now is the moment, while he's watching you envision this.

"$200,” you splutter. Volume is difficult when your voice is a quivering inconstant.

"What was that? Did we just get another bid?" Jimin wavers too, out of disbelief. "Did someone say $200?!"

The room is a clamour of confusion but Taehyung watched you mouth the very syllables. The shock is such that it softens his salacious movements to a dance more modest. His eyes are wider than you've ever seen them; mouth too. It hangs agape and downturned, as yours does. Because you're not quite sure whether you said something else altogether. Maybe you hurled a cuss word out of frustration? Did you momentarily black out and proclaim Hitler did nothing wrong? Nothing else can account for the scrutiny with which he punishes you with now.

Or.

You actually did bid, and that's why he's walking over, to the very drop-off of the catwalk, no longer any swagger to his step. "What are you doing?" he calls down, the music still strong and now strangely inappropriate. You simply watch the mole beneath his bottom lip move, dumb.

Louder, now, you call again. "$200!"

"Oh! It was a bid! ____?!" The flame-haired MC shares his puzzlement with the rest of the reacting room. All heads turn toward you.

But yours turns nowhere but Taehyung, your expression an open book of long-hidden liking. You watch, suspended by dissociation, as he lays a palm flat against his chest. "Me?"

It could all still be explained away. A joke. You drank too much. You just wanted to see the look on his face. Instead, you grant him the minutest of nods. A simple tip of the chin. "You," you whisper, whether it's heard or not.

Taehyung sees it in the shape your lips make. And then his gaze sweeps back upward, his chest heaving far too much for a man standing stationary.

"What's going on?" The disgruntled echo each other.

Jimin is quick to make sense of things and keep it rolling. "Okay, so, a bid of $200! Anyone else?"

A new song comes on; it's gone on too long. Something with a cantering beat that's adequately sentimental.

So if love is nothing more than just a waste of your time—

Clambering atop the platform, you counter someone's desperate bid of $220 with a measured breath. "$250." You hold Taehyung at fingerpoint. "You."

Waste it on me.

For a pants-shitting second, nothing happens. Your outstretched arm gains a tremor that could crumble it. Taehyung sifts your soul with his big, dewy eyes and then he's walking. Stalking toward you. Knocks the money from your hands and seizes your shying face with both of his. The last thing you see is his nose mole before his mouth joins with yours. His grip is like a vice and his lips are no gentler. They pry you open with little effort and then you're flooded with wet heat. Taehyung is insatiable in pursuit of your tongue. His hands drop to draw in your waist, your chest, every inch of your overclothed form. He's underclothed but burning hot, planes of honed skin beneath your fingertips. It's all so right. Feels so good. Taehyung moans that much into you when he chances a breath of air. Applause starts up as the music swells. It's so cliche but you've never had a cliche of your own before and your gloom-ridden ass needs this.

"Going—"

"I didn't know. I wish I had. This would've happened sooner," Taehyung gasps between desperate, too-short smooches. It proves too difficult to resist the pull of your mouth and he captures it again, sloppier. Slower.

"Going—"

"It doesn't matter." You pull the oxygen in, impatient. "Doesn't matter." Your fingers are a tangle at the nape of his neck, tugging on his lustrous locks. "Make up for it."

"Gone! Sold for $250!"

The two of you won't be parted for a moment. Not even when dismounting the platform. There's ruckus around you but it's so distant when his lips are on you. You sink into him like you would a scalding bath. "You don't have to pay that," Taehyung tells your cheek, smearing his saliva-slick mouth back to yours. His greed for you manifests against your stomach, and you ache in return. "This is a freebie."

Your passionate clinch takes you to the sidelines, away from prying eyes. Most of them, anyway. "What about this?" Your hands are suddenly in unseemly places.

"Th-That's also free. Everything's free. Oh, God."

#taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung scenarios #v #v fluff #v scenarios #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #v x reader #v x you #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x you #bts x reader

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luzarya · 4 years ago

Text

Find You

Siren Au where Yuu is a siren.

summary: Yuu was sweeping, when they realized that something good had came, for once, in their life.

Their beloved had came.

ao3 link: here

warning: none

word count: 3,076

songs: this and this

part: 2/3

-> 1 (previous)

-> 3 (not out til next friday)

----

Yuu hummed a quiet melody as they swept the floor of Mostro Lounge. The lounge was empty, past its closing time.

Yuu began working not too long ago, their current contract having them work at the lounge ,and in exchange, Azul would do his best removing traces of Yuu’s presence at the beach. The local government had begun to search for the owner of the hypnotic voice before it took any lives, and had it not been for Azul’s interference, Yuu would probably have been in the government’s grasp.

And to be fair, Yuu didn’t want to be held by the government, not again.

The events that lead up to their current predicament, was truly, rather interesting.

Yuu’s voice switched from a hum to a quiet singing, as they recalled how they had to reveal their mer form to Jack, Deuce, Ace, and Grim. They all had been shocked, no doubt, but it soon quickly faded once they all realized it would play in their favor. Yet, the Leech twins had known, planning around it.

In the end, Yuu needed help from the Savanaclaw dorm, ultimately playing into their favor.

...then it landed them in another contract, not even a day after.

Yuu continued to sing, this time their voice now heard. No one was in the lounge itself, perhaps someone in the kitchen, Yuu figured, with the amount of noise they heard from that area. But they sang, and sang they did, of the song that their beloved once sang.

Yuu had promised an eternity with their beloved, yet they couldn’t fulfill their debt. Sometimes, they wished that their beloved would just magically appear, but they knew that it wouldn’t happen.

But one could hope.

They continued to mindlessly sing and sweep, thinking about their beloved, until a voice called out to them.

“Eh, Shachi-chan, why are ya always singin’ that song?” Floyd came out from the kitchen, a dish in hand. He had an almost dazed look- Yuu singing affected all, but to fellow mer, it was to a lesser degree. Nor did it take hold for too longer, either. The dazed look was already gone.

“What’s it to ya?” Yuu growled, unhappy that their singing was interrupted, although they eyed the dish. “What’s that?”

“Oh this? Just some shrimp alfredo.~”

“And you made it because…?”

“Just felt like it!~”

“I see…”

Yuu returned to sweeping, their song now a hum, as Floyd began eating his dish. It hadn’t been a minute, a freaking minute, until Floyd spoke again. At this point, Yuu was ready to strangle the mer. They just wanted to sing and hum their melody, was that too much to ask?

“Wanna taste, Shachi-chan?~”

Yuu eyed the dish, glaring at the eel mer, “What’s the catch, Leech?”

“Fufufu, answer my question, Shachi-chan.~”

Yuu let out a sigh, and placed their broomstick against the wall. They walked over and took the adjacent seat, looking at the plate. They didn’t look at Floyd, but they uttered their response.

“It’s a song from someone important.”

Floyd then wordlessly handed them their fork, not caring if they had used it earlier. Floyd only grinned as he waited for Yuu to take a bite.

Yuu grabbed a napkin, cleaning the fork before stabbing the shrimp, taking a bit. They took another, savoring the taste.

“Huh, this is pretty good, Floyd.”

“Fufu, I am pretty great, aren’t I?~”

“When you’re in the mood, that is.”

Floyd bellowed loudly, somehow finding Yuu’s statement to be funny.

Yuu looked quizzically at the eel mer, “Eh? What’s so funny, Leech?”

“Eheh, you’re pretty interesting, aren’t ya?~”

The selkie swam through the familiar shores, searching. It had been months since they last saw their beloved.

Too long, in fact.

However, they clung onto the hope that their beloved Yuu was alive- after all, they were alive when they left.

Even if Yuu hadn’t known.

Engel could still remember the carriage, how they tried to call out to Yuu, how something restricted their throat, unable to call for them. It was utter agony, unable to voice out their words of caution. They had saw Yuu go inside the carriage, and Engel was able to see their frightened expression as they entered. Engel wanted to help, yet the restraints didn’t allow them.

Even so, they sang their song. Their voice may not have the same power nor strength as that of Yuu’s, the ability to entrance mortals and to have their voice carry, but it didn’t matter.

They sang. Even if their words came out as a seal’s barks, honks, and growls. Even if no one understood them, they sang.

They sang for Yuu.

After all, they sang of an eternity together in this damned world, hadn’t they?

----

“Hey, Floyd?” Yuu asked, messing with the blood-filled glass bead of their seashell bracelet. Its warmth brought a sense of calm over.

“Hmm?”

“Do ya think Azul will help me bring someone on over? From my world, that is?”

Floyd titled his head, his eyes rolling upwards in ponderment, letting out a small “hmmmm”.

“Well, I’m sure you would have to ask Azul yourself, Yuu,” a familiar voice rang out.

The two mer turned their heads towards the direction of the voice. Jade simply gave a smile as he came closer, as he too, took a seat next to Yuu.

“I see…” Yuu muttered, lowering their head. They had a small hope, a small hope that they could bring their beloved to this world. They only knew that Engel was alive due to the warmth the bracelet emitted.

It was their only comfort in this foreign world.

“Fufu, do not fret, Yuu. Azul is surely bound to find an answer of some sorts, if you ask.”

“To the point of invention, Jade? After all, it was the carriage that brought me over. Can Azul even recreate such a thing?” Yuu retorted. What are the chances that they could bring over their beloved?

“Who knows,” Jade shrugged, “Speaking of which, the mirror was wrong, were they not?”

“Oh yea,” Floyd agreed, “Shachi-chan does have magic, so why’d the mirror say they’ve got none?” Floyd looked at Yuu expectedly, giving a toothy grin.

“Heck if I know,” Yuu replied, “Maybe ‘cause my magic is limited? I can only really use it for my voice and becoming mer, so-“

“Ehhhhh, you don’t use a potion?” Floyd looked shocked, his eyes wide and mouth agape. His brother shared a similar look of disbelief, although it was much more subtle. After all, they had used potions to retain their human form.

“I don’t? I’m half mer, after all,” Yuu replied. Did magic function differently here? If it did, it would explain as to why their magic went unnoticed. It would be simply that the magic mirror is only able to detect the magic native to this world, and as everyone knows, Yuu is no native.

“What’s the other half?” Jade titled his head to the side, much more curious about Yuu’s origins than before.

“Human.”

“Ehhhhh? I was convinced Shachi-chan was a full mer, fufu, now this is interesting, no?~”

----

The water above Engel became murky, radiating an odd warmth. The water was near freezing, and Engel’s body was becoming overheated. Yet, as much as Engel could, they couldn’t swim to colder waters. Something was pulling them in.

It was like magic.

Pain shot through all their body. It was nearly unbearable, that Engel almost had wished to die instead of dealing with the immense pain. It endured for the next five minutes, and soon, they found their body being forced out of the water, landing on the sand with a loud smack. Their body was sore, Engel letting out a loud painful whine.

They took a moment to adjust to their surroundings, noticing that they were on a beach, vacant and devoid of any life. However, they could faintly pick up a certain scent, one that distracted them from all their pain and inner turmoil.

And that was Yuu’s scent.

It was faint, oh so very faint, but Engel could still pick it up. The scent had sent them to overdrive, their blood pulsing faster than before.

Shifting out of their pelt, they hugged it close to ward off the cold night, as they began to track Yuu’s scent, venturing into the forest that bordered the beach.

Too many times were they nearly caught, too many times were they nearly hunted. No doubt, something knew that Engel was there, but that didn’t deter them. They’ll lose the hunter, sooner or later. It was just a matter of when.

Soon enough, they found themselves near what looked like an academy of some sorts, a gate blocking their way. Yuu’s scent here was strong however, an anxiety started to pool up in their stomach. What if they couldn’t get to Yuu? All those months of searching would go down the drain, and they would have no one to return to.

Letting out a pitiful sigh, they turned to leave, until they heard a voice call out to them.

“Who are you?”

Engel looked towards the direction of the voice, their black eyes locking with amber ones.

Engel didn’t say a word, yet the person came closer. It wasn’t until when they were directly across from them on the other side of the gate did Engel notice their features, as the moon provided little light. The person had white hair and wolf ears, and a somewhat dark complexion., They had a strong build that intimidated Engel, but judging by their relaxed pose, they knew they posed no threat. Despite that, even if they did indeed pose a threat, Engel felt confident enough of their own strength to take them down.

“I’m Engel,” the selkie finally stated, albeit reluctantly, “And you are?” Something about the beastman felt familiar, although Engel couldn’t figure out as to why.

“Jack. Tell me, why do you smell of blood?” Jack asked, his eyes now glaring at the selkie.

There was no visible trail of blood on Engel, but they did have some.

Their bracelet.

Engel raised their hand to show off their bracelet, of which had seashells and small, blood-filled glass beads. Mer often gave one another bracelets, with their scales, to their beloved. Yet, as Engel and Yuu were not the typical mer, they made do.

It was their only connection, and the only way they knew if the other lived. Engel could still feel the warmth of the bracelet, although it was beginning to grow warmer the more they came close to Yuu’s location. No doubt, Yuu was in this academy.

“The blood of my beloved. They have a similar one, although with my blood,” Engel stated, proudly.

Jack didn’t say a word, but he glanced around. “I know a way to get you inside, but you’ll have to trust me, alright?”

“You’ll do that?” Engel gasped, clutching onto their pelt with their free hand.

Jack looked at them again, and shook his head, “I’ll get you some clothes too.”

“Oh, thank you!”

Jack glanced behind Engel, and said, “We should hurry, I don’t think we have much time.”

----

“It’s time for me to leave, so I suppose I’ll be on my way,” Yuu began, as they got up from their seat.

“Leaving so soon, Shachi-chan?~” Floyd grabbed Yuu’s wrist, as the siren looked at them with great disdain. This was often why they avoided Floyd, the eel mer was too much for them to handle.

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t, Leech?” Yuu turned to look at the other Leech brother, who was only giving them a close-eyed smile. Very helpful.

“It’s not that late, is it, Jade?~”

“It’s literally almost curfew, Sir Strangles-People.”

“Stay the night! You’re mer, you’ll fit right in.~”

“Pray tell, Leech, where would I sleep?”

At this question, Floyd let go of Yuu’s hand as they massaged the area. He seemed to actually be in thought, something of which Yuu rarely saw.

“Hm, would they sleep with us, Jade?” Floyd wondered out loud, his grin becoming bigger, showcasing all of his sharp teeth. Yuu wondered

“I’m leaving,” Yuu quickly said, already striding away from the brothers. The warmth from their bracelet grew, borderline burning them. Yuu furrowed their brows, the pain stinging yet not unbearable. Yuu didn’t stop walking, even when one of the brothers called out to them. As soon as they were out of sight, Yuu broke out in a run.

-----

Engel sighed happily as they fondled with the beads of their bracelet, its warmth growing stronger. It only ever did that after long periods of absence of the other bracelet, as the bracelets were made to function in such a way. Yuu’s mother had personally made the bracelets, carefully telling them what each sign had meant.

Warmth meant the other was alive and well. Absence of warmth meant death.

And burning, after being separated for a long time, meant the other was near.

And boy, was Engel just vibrating with a certain happiness. Months and months of searching, and finally their search bore fruit.

“Hot chocolate?”

Engel snapped out of their daydream, looking at the owner of the voice. It was Jack, whose hand was in front of her, with a mug of hot chocolate within its grasp.

“Ah, many thanks, Jack,” Engel grabbed ahold of the mug, pulling it close to their person. They adorned some ill-fitting clothing, although it was all that Jack could offer. At least, Engel mused, they had something on. Better to wear baggy clothing than to be out and about naked.

“How do you know Yuu?” Jack asked. It was still rather early to the night, for it was not for another two hours did Jack need to go to bed. It was by sheer luck that Jack had encountered Engel on his nightly jog. He could smell something, or someone, hunting the mer. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was obvious to him that the mer was in danger.

It took some explaining to the other dorm members as to why he brought a mer, of all people, inside to Savanaclaw. Even more, it was rather obvious that Engel didn’t attend the college, as everyone, to an extent, possessed a certain aura that only one could find at Night Raven College, after staying for a while.

Although, it didn’t take long for everyone to accept Engel, either. As strength was favoured amongst the beastmen, Engel had plenty. And tenacity, to boot. No doubt, had Engel been a native of this world, they would surely have been sorted into Savanaclaw.

“Hmm,” Engel pondered out loud, “As you said earlier, I’m not from this world and neither is Yuu.”

Jack nodded, not saying a word, intently listening.

“I’ll explain a few things of which are important before I begin. Our world,” a sip from the mug, “is harsh upon its inhabitants. Non-humans are rare and few, our numbers hunted to its current state. People are encouraged to kill or kidnap us, and use us for their dirty deeds.” Engel let out a hoarse laugh, but they continued.

“Thus, we thrive in secret, away from humans. We’re isolated, and we flee at any instance of human interference. Only a few humans are taken within our communities, Yuu’s mother being one of them. Truly, the Kishimoto family have been rather unfortunate.”

Jack raised a brow at the name, never having heard Yuu’s family name before.

“We met at sea, when Yuu was exploring their mer side. They were lucky enough to meet with their father’s side of the family, as orcas are matrilineal. Although whatever attachment they had with them was soon broken, by humans.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, taking in all the information.

“Humans started to fish in their territory, so they left, and left me in charge of telling Yuu. Thankfully, no one was harmed, however, it was found that Miss Kishimoto was a mer’s wife, that of a siren no less.”

Engel took a sip of their hot chocolate, the beverage slowly, but surely, becoming cold.

“Miss Kishimoto fashioned us these bracelets, and a few other trinkets before she was taken. I believe we were about… I say, 13 summers old by then? Yuu was taken in by my community, so we’ve been close since then. Only about a year ago did we… ah, become one another’s beloveds.”

“I see…”

“Did that answer your question?” Engel watched Jack’s expression, as he processed the new information. It was a lot, after all, Engel basically telling all of Yuu’s life in a very condensed summary.

“I suppose it does.”

-----

Yuu ran out from the mirror, their bracelet practically glowing and humming with life. They stood, searching for Engel. Yuu could smell Engel’s scent in the area, but they didn’t know where they were in.

It wasn’t until they felt their phone buzz in their back pocket did they find out.

Savanaclaw.

As quick as one can be, Yuu hurried and teleported through the mirror once more.

----

“I’ve told Yuu that you’re here, Engel, “Jack stated, as he picked up the mugs of hot chocolate, “I’ll be right back.”

Engel didn’t say a word, still clutching onto their pelt firmly. There was never a moment when they were without their pelt, the only other person ever granted permission to even remotely touch it, was Yuu.

Engel was unsure of how they would tell Yuu of the news from their world, nor was Engel even sure that they could return. Stories of transporting to other worlds always ended the same- no return to their home.

Yet Engel had a feeling that they wouldn’t mind that.

Anything better than that damned world.

----

Yuu ran, ignoring all the curious glances and glares that were thrown their way. They tracked Engel’s scent, and at last…

They saw Engel, pleasantly conversing with Jack, their pelt in their lap, and a content face. Yuu could feel their bracelet cool down, as did Engel. The selkie turned to look at their beloved arrival, tears pricking their eyes, and a smile making its way onto their face.

“It’s been too long, Yuu.”

Yuu ran to them, surprising Jack in the process, and hugged Engel.

“Too long, my love. Too long.”

….as Jack watched, unsure of what to do. He decided it would be best to leave the lovers alone, so he quietly left. Yuu knew the way.

#twisted wonderland #fanfic #twst fanfic #siren yuu #luzarya writes things yuh #siren au #twst x yuu #yuu (twst) x oc #ocs #twst oc

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brattyfics · 4 years ago

Text

Beach Bums

Summary: Used a few prompt lines including: “I like this outfit. Easy access.” and “I can’t wait until we’re alone. There are so many things I want to do to you right now.” “We’re in public, you know?”

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Black!OC

Warnings: Public sex, sandy beach sex, unsanitary sex (cause of the sand), exhibitionism, a little angst.

Word Count: 3.2K (I hate that I’m so long-winded)

Lena listened to waves lap at the shore of the beach with a relaxed smile on her face. The smell of saltwater tickled her nose while sand tickled her toes with each step. The chilly California night made it so she wore a flannel over her loose-fitting, flowy dress.

To her right stood her Knight in a Kutte, AKA EZ Reyes. A rare, genuine smile graced his own face. She couldn’t remember the last time they were together and he wasn’t on guard. There at the beach, none of the club bullshit mattered.

For that reason alone, she was happy she accepted his invitation for a one-day getaway. She had work she should be doing, and she was sure he had club business to attend to, but they were together in spite of it all.

EZ and Lena were on and off again high school sweethearts. The two of them didn’t see each other often anymore— Lena moved a few cities over to begin the next chapter in her life while he rebuilt his life in Santo Padre.

“What you thinking ‘bout, mamita?”

She found herself admiring his dimples. “You.”

“Yeah?” They deepened even further, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “What about me?”

She rolled her eyes and decided to mess with him. “I was thinking your head is kind of funny shaped.”

“What?” He asked, eyebrows shooting up. He jumped at her causing her to shriek and take off.

He chased her a few yards before reaching to grab her up by the waist. She side-stepped him and pushed, giggling even though her heart was racing as if she was really running from danger.

Lena’s mouth fell open as she watched EZ tip over in slow motion like a cow. Her hands reached out to steady him but it was too late, his big ass landed with an ungraceful plop in the sand. He looked just as shocked as she felt. She was stuck somewhere between being speechless and wanting to apologize. When their eyes met, the only thing they could do was laugh.

She clumsily sat down beside him, grabbing a hold of one of his big arms. She couldn’t get an apology out because she was laughing so hard.

“You’re cold blooded! You just tried to kill me!”

“I didn't expect for you to fall like that!” She managed to wheeze out in between laughter. “It’s not even all my fault. It’s all that damn wine you had at dinner. I tried to tell you, it sneaks up on you!”

A few fellow beach goers eyed them with amusement. EZ straightened when he saw the attention they garnered, face flushing at the attention. She tried to quiet down for his benefit but when he began dusting his sand-covered side, she fell into another fit of giggles.Soon enough, everyone went back to what they were doing.

To their left, a group of teenagers burned what she was certain was an illegal bonfire. To their right, people were scattered loosely, sitting on beach towels while watching the stars or walking the shore. Almost no one was left in the water. It was too late and too dark for a swim.

She crawled over to sit directly in front of him, her back against his chest, his arms holding her tightly to him. They sat in silence watching neon city lights dance across the dark water, enjoying the warmth the other provided in spite of the cool night.

EZ let his hands roam, lighting her body up with each stroke of his fingers. The two of them had many risky sexcapades back in high school. He could never wait until a party was over before he was trying to sneak them off somewhere. Then there was the time they missed half of senior prom.

“Can I ask you something?” Lena asked, gazing at the night sky.

He let out a fake sigh. “If you must.”

“Do you miss me?” Her eyes focused on him, ready to hyper analyze his response as she often did.

“How can I miss you when you’re right here?” He joked, trying to keep the mood light.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He seemed to consider it, avoiding her eyes. Finally, he decided on a response.

“Of course I miss you.”

“Like a lot?” She hated how needy she sounded.

He smiled. She wasn’t always forthcoming with her real thoughts and emotions, especially since she had been disappointed by him before. His eight-year stint in jail wasn’t just hard on him. He liked when he saw flashes of the old her, the her he knew when they first met, before he hurt her.

“A whole lot, chula. You know that.”

She wanted to ask him how she was supposed to know that. He had been different since they reconnected. He could be distant, avoidant at times. She understood he lived a complicated life, but she wanted him to want her enough to fight for a future.

Her chest tightened every time she thought about the fact their love was fleeting. She snuggled further back into him, choosing to let it go. There was no sense in ruining a good night, one she could remember long after they were done.

EZ worried about them too. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she had no room for him in the new life she was building. He thought about her more than she would ever know. All around Santo Padre there were reminders, memories of her. Every day he passed the high school he remembered the day they met.

They both felt the tension of the unspoken words between them. When he could no longer stand it, EZ defaulted to sex. It was the one thing that was never wrong between them.

“I like this outfit, easy access.” He joked, pulling at his flannel until he could see the thin straps of her dress. He tugged at one of them until it fell, nibbling on her bare shoulder.

“I can tell.” She grinned naughtily, grinding her ass against him. Like him, she just wanted to forget all the bad stuff.

“I can’t wait til’ we’re alone.” He noticed there were only a few stragglers left on the beach. It had thinned out for the most part, the bonfire now an abandoned pit of soot. “There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

She eyed their fellow beach goers, calculating the risk. “You know, you don’t have to wait until we’re alone.” She wanted him bad. Her heart lurched. She knew she was being driven by insecurity but she couldn’t help herself. Even if they didn’t last, she wanted to hold a place in his heart forever. She wanted him to remember she was his best and dirtiest fuck.

She turned to look him directly in the eyes. “I wanna fuck you right here.”

“I don’t think---”

“Are you kidding? You’ve been teasing me all night.” She pouted. His hand had been under her dress all night, pinching her thighs, tickling her legs, but never touching her where she needed.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

He’s one to talk.

“No I’m not.” She said in faux innocence. “I'm just trying to make you feel good, baby.”

“We’re in public, chula.”

“When has that ever stopped us before?”

He snorted. Points were made, so he wasted no more time, his resolve gone.

“You gotta relax though.” He hissed when she grabbed a hold of his dick. “Turn back around.” He instructed, pulling the big flannel from her shoulders so that he could use it as a makeshift blanket to hide their activities. She held it close to her chest while he went to work at unbuckling his pants. She kept turning around to peek at him.

“But I wanna see.” She hummed impatiently, stretching her legs out. “Have I ever told you how pretty your dick is?”

“You tell me that every time.” He tried to sound unimpressed, but it came out more strangled than anything. She knew all his tells. He was as desperate as she was.

She watched with open fascination as he stroked his dick. She sucked on her bottom lip as she watched it fatten up under her gaze. Fuck, he’s going to stretch me out. He leaned forward to kiss her, thinking about how he wanted to use her lips for other things.

After a long kiss, he pulled back with a groan, looking to see if they had gained any admirers. Once he deemed it safe he leaned in to kiss her again. He sucked on her lip this time, hands tugging her loose-fitting dress up until it rested underneath her breasts. Their legs were the only bare skin touching and he wanted more. He wanted her naked and underneath him where they could be as loud as they wanted for as long as they wanted, but a quickie would have to do.

When he pulled away from the kiss again, her eyes bore into his. He froze.

Her eyes were so expressive-- he knew when she was disappointed, angry, turned on. In that moment, she looked at him like he hung the stars and the moon just for her. He felt the same about her, taking her beautiful features under the moonlight.

Her thick hair blew over her shoulders in the breeze, the smell of mango invading his nose. He loved her smell. He leaned in to rub his nose against hers, giving her an eskimo kiss because he knew it would make her smile. Her lips parted slightly, her pink tongue wagging at him in a teasing manner. He shook his head, smirking. As much as he found ways to make her smile, she did the same.

“Come here.” He lifted her so she hovered just above his crotch. The flannel slipped down slightly.

She reached for his dick anyway, gasping at how hot and heavy it felt in her hands. She probed at her wet slit with his tip. Lena wanted to ride him the right way, chest to chest where they could kiss and hold each other. She held in a whine, doing her best to look normal as if nothing was happening. Underneath her, his hips surged forward, desperate to get inside her.

“Stop moving.” She bossed him the way he sometimes liked. The club looked to him to fix and handle everything as their prospect. He looked to her for grounding. She reminded him he wasn’t invincible, humbled him.

Her stalling wasn’t just for his benefit. It had been months since they were together. If she didn’t mentally prepare herself first, she’d be shouting his name for everyone at the beach to hear.

“Hurry up.” She could hear the frustration in his voice. The awkward position they were in, the contrast between the cool night air and her warm center on his dick, the strain of holding her hips up, and his flannel slipping down had him nervous and impatient.

“Be still, baby.” She whispered sweetly. She used the mushroom tip to tap her clit and though she had been expecting it, she jumped up moaning.

His fingers dug into her hips as a warning, head on a swivel for any peeping Tom’s.

“Fuck. Me.” She listened to him, lining his cock up with her entrance. His hips lifted as best they could in his position, pushing past tight resistance until he was inside her.

They did their best to be quiet. She bit down on her lip and pinched one of his thighs. He closed his eyes, holding her as he tried to adjust. It had been too long since they were together.

Lena was as wet and warm as he remembered. Even tighter than he remembered due to not being stretched out first by his fingers or his tongue. He loved playing with her pussy, watching the way she would tremble and try to hold her moans in.

“You feel so good.” He buried his face in her hair momentarily.

“Mhmmm…” She was having a hard time forming words. She used her hands on his thighs for leverage to ride. “...you too.” She couldn’t ride him the way she wanted, but she did her best, squirming in his lap at the slight discomfort. “You’re too deep.” She pouted.

“Relax.” He moaned into her hair, burying himself to the hilt. She let him work, lifting her up and down on his dick as best he could without causing a scene. Each time he hammered her hard and deep. The slow, but bruising pace made the filthy act that much more intense.

“Fuck, nena.” He grunted as his forearms burned. “Take that dick.” And she did. Sans a few escaped mewls, she took all of him with no complaints, letting him use her in the best way possible.

As much as he hated himself for it and wished he could focus, all EZ could think about was her being with other people when they were apart. It was hypocritical of him he knew--he had gone on a sex binge with Vicki’s girls as soon as he got out, but it didn’t change the way he felt.

“I love this dick, baby.” She purred, looking over her shoulder into his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, daddy. It’s my favorite.”

He pounded her harder, angry at the admission.

“You fuck other guys like this?”

Lena moaned to avoid the answer. She had definitely tried to get over him while under other men. Eight years was a long time. One of his hands left her hips to tug her hair. She was forced to take over the majority of the grunt work, bouncing in his lap despite the awkward angle.

“Do you?” She winced as he got aggressive, knowing her scalp would be tender the next day.

“No.” She finally moaned, sounding defeated.

“They don’t fuck you like I do, mami?”

“No!” It came out louder than intended, catching the attention of another couple on the beach. Neither Lena or EZ let it bother them.

“Be quiet.” He gritted out, continuing to pound her out. Her walls constructed around him, sucking him in deeper. He could feel her wetness dripping down his shaft onto his balls.

“Wait—“ Movement to their right caught her attention. The couple had risen from their spot. One of the girls gathered their things into a tote bag while the other rolled their towels up.

“Baby—“ she tried to warn him, pushing at his thighs. She felt like she was going crazy. Overwhelmed was an understatement. At that point, holding her breath was the only way to keep from yelling his name out.

His hand left her hair to press against her tummy. “You feel that shit?” He was being mean, holding her in place so she couldn’t do anything but take it.

“Babyyyy.” she whined.

“What mami?” His face was buried in her neck and she could feel him leaving what would be hickeys on her brown skin. He couldn’t keep her with him forever, but he could scare his competition away for a few weeks if he marked her good enough.

“I think they’re watching us.”

His head lifted from her neck, dark eyes searching for bodies in the night. He saw them. The two girls were still several yards away from them, but headed their way. They spoke quietly to each other, giggling every few seconds.

He made a decision. They were too far gone to stop, potential audience be damned.

“Then you better hurry up and come.” Her stomach tightened at his words. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” She sobbed, concentrating on her hardest on being quiet.

“You better not. Fuck that dick until we both come.” His fingers dug into her hips painfully as their skin loudly slapped together. “I don’t give a fuck about some gringos watching.”

The combination of the time they spent apart, the fact they could be caught, and his dirty words were too much for her. She came so hard tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, needy moans spilling from her lips. If EZ could see her face, she’d be embarrassed at the way she went cross-eyed.

The flannel slipped down to their legs where it barely covered anything. Lena silently thanked gravity that her dress had also slipped down so she wasn’t completely exposed. That didn’t mean she didn’t look the part of a desperate slut.

Tears fell freely from her eyes, leaving a trail of mascara in their wake. Judging by the looks on the girls’ faces, they were concerned. She flushed at the attention, but was too overstimulated to disguise her dick-drunk state.

EZ showed her no mercy, drilling her like she hadn’t already come. He didn’t give a fuck about the two curious set of eyes on them.

Picturing her with other men had his mind racing and it made it hard for him to concentrate on his release. “Tell me it’s mine.”

“It’s yours.” She panted immediately, eyes wide and pupils blown. She couldn’t believe what they were doing. He didn’t show any signs of stopping so she talked him through it.

“It’s always been yours, daddy.” He hammered into her.

“I love that dick.” In.

“I miss it so much.” Out.

“It’s too good.” Her voice got progressively lower as the girls got closer. They seemed to have figured it out, their footsteps purposely slow. She was embarrassed, but couldn’t stop until he joined her in bliss.

“I want your cum! I want it so bad. I don’t care who knows.”

Her eyes met one of the stranger’s. One the girl’s mouth split into a sly grin. They definitely knew what was going on.

“I don’t care about anything when your dick is in me.” She mewled loudly, locking eyes with one of them.

“I’ll fuck you anywhere you want, whenever you--” He bit down hard on her shoulder, an animalistic growl rumbling out of his chest. She winced at the sting, knowing he’d left yet another mark. The other girl tugged her along, clearly scandalized.

His dick pulsed inside her, massaging her insides. If she hadn’t already come, that sensation would have done it. She collapsed against him, lazy, and too fucked out to care anymore.

He seemed to share that sentiment, assaulting her neck without a care in the world, sloppily tonguing it down as if it were her pussy. Each lash of his tongue was a promise for later. He would eat her alive when they were in the comfort of their hotel room.

They both huffed and puffed, trying to catch their breath. Sweat and sand covered their skin, the smell of sex mingling with the night air. Neither of them knew how they would muster the energy to make it back to the car, let alone the hotel room.

“I love you.” He murmured softly, placing one final kiss against her neck.

#ez reyes x black!oc #ez reyes x black!reader #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #mayans mc

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years ago

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Horror / Six: The Musical AU (X Reader) || Headcanons

Explanation: So all the songs are being sun by different readers with different Henry’s (The Horror Villains of course) instead of one Henry. I think its pretty straight forward apart from that! I hope to make a second part to this where the readers actually meet up and complain about their times with their respective horror villains. This is fun XD Had the idea a couple months back and I posted it and one blog commented saying Six is their favourite musical, so this is basically for me and them haha XD

Character Included: Michael Myers, Chucky / Charles Lee Ray (And Tiffany Valentine), Bubba Sawyer, Norman Bates, Mayor Buckman (And Harper Alexandre) and Jason Voorhees.

Warnings: Murder of the readers (By respective Horror Villains and a non-explicit difficult birth in Bubba’s), birth / pregnancy, toxic / abusive relationships, sexual harrassment / maybe rape (All You Wanna Do- Buckmans), language, suggested mother / son grossness (Norman and Norma of course).

I laugh in the face of those who would subdue my mad ideas.

‘No Way’ (Reader as Catherine of Aragon): Michael Myers as Henry

My name's Catherine of Aragon Was married 24 years I'm a paragon of royalty, my loyalty is to the Vatican So if you try to dump me You won't try that again

You were in a, of course, very unequal relationship with the shape of Haddonfield. He saw you one day, was completely taken by you, and decided to let you live. He would come by and use you however he liked, kill the people you loved when they got your attention over him, etc. Like any other Michael Myers x Reader.

And, years and years later (Because it’s not like Michael finds someone every day that he gives even a bit of a shit about like he does - did, - you) he comes upon a new person. Someone he, like he was you, is drawn to.

And he tries to drop you like a hot potato.

And this infuriates you. You are not about to let go! He has ruined your life! You have no friends, no family, no life, because of him! All you have, is (regrettably) him and you are going to be his for the rest of your life. That’s what he wanted, that’s what the bastard’s going to get.

(Many, many years with him has caused your courage against him to grow spectacularly. You can say nearly anything to him)

|- ‘You must agree that, baby, in all the time I been by your side

I've never lost control’

‘I've put up with your sh- like every single day’ -|

You give him one more chance- if he can tell you one thing that you have done to him to legitimately hurt him… then you’ll leave willingly.

…

But he has nothing. And he doesn’t care.

|- ‘You got me down on my knees

Please tell me what you think I've done wrong

Been humble, been loyal, I've tried to swallow my pride all along

If you can just explain a single thing

I've done to cause you pain, I'll go

No?’ -|

|- ‘You wanna replace me? Baby, there's

N-n-n-n-n-n-no way

You made me a wife, so I'll be queen 'til the end of my life’ -|

He ends up strangling you to death when you won’t shut up.

‘Don’t Lose Your Head’ (Reader as Anne Boleyn): Chucky / Charles Lee Ray as Henry (And Tiffany as Catherine of Aragon)

I'm that Boleyn girl and I'm up next See I broke England from the church Yeah, I'm that sexy Why did I lose my head? Well, my sleeves may be green but my lipstick's red

Chucky and his filthy ass catches sight of you. Young, French and vivacious and he’s got heart eyes on the spot. He wants you, but he also doesn’t really want to lose Tiffany.

So... yeah, you end up living with them both for a while and its very awkward and a very hostile situation.

|- ‘Here we go

(You sent him kisses)

I didn't know I would move in with his misses

(What?)

Get a life

(You're living with his wife?)

Like, what was I meant to do?’ -|

You don’t like it. No one likes this. Chucky! Make up your mind!

|- ‘Three in the bed and the little one said

If you wanna be wed, make up your mind

Her or me, chum

Don't wanna be some

Girl in a threesome

Are you blind?’ -|

Tiffany is of course Catherine, and the fandom (The people of Britain for the sake of this AU) loves her (As we all know), so when you come along and insult her because Chucky is now your man (Supposedly.) and of course you two aren’t getting along with each other in the first place because of him … you get a bad name.

|- ‘Ooh, why hasn't it hit her?

He doesn't want to bang you

Somebody hang you

(Wow Anne, way to make the country hate you)

Mate, what was I meant to do?’ -|

When eventually Chucky is able to grow the balls to boot Tiffany out (My heart hurts writing this, trust me), he pulls a ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater’ kind of shit and has no loyalty to you or respect for the sanctity of your relationship, and starts having one night stands here, there and everywhere. He tries vaguely to tell you you’re being silly and that’s not true- but he has lipstick on his shirt collars and perfume smell all over him.

Its not a nice living condition.

So you, still very much being the vivacious bitch that he ‘fell in love with’, go and flirt with some other guys. Just to make him a teensy bit jealous! I mean, its not like he’ll really care, right? You just wanna spark the fire again!

|- ‘Henry's out every night on the town

Just sleeping around, like what the hell?

If that's how it's gonna be

Maybe I'll flirt with a guy or three

Just to make him jell’ -|

But he finds out as planned… and is p i s s e d. He threatens that if you do that again, he’ll fucking kill you.

You, not going to let him talk to you like that, flirt with one more man. Just to be disobedient.

|- ‘Henry finds out and he goes mental

He screams and shouts

Like so judgemental

You damn that witch

Mate, just shut up

I wouldn't be such a b-

If you could get it up’ -|

And you find out that he very much meant it when he said he would kill you.

|- ‘And now he's going 'round like off with her head (No)

(No)

Yeah, I'm pretty sure he means it’ -|

‘Heart of Stone’ (Reader as Jane Seymour): Bubba Sawyer as Henry

Jane Seymour the only one he truly loved (Rude) When my son was newly born, I died But I'm not what I seem or am I? Stick around and you'll suddenly see more

You were an intended victim of the Sawyers, but like with Stretch, Bubba crushes on you instead. The difference here, is that you see the gentleness to him compared to his brothers, and how scared he is when one of them yells at him, and all the other little signs that he’s not as vicious or evil as his first impressions might convey. You have a big, brave heart, and you realise right there that its death and cannibalisation or understanding and caring for this man and you choose to love.

|- ‘You came my way, and I knew a storm could come too.’-|

|- ‘You've got a good heart

But I know it changes

A restless tide, untameable’ -|

So you take his hands in yours, all shaky and meaty as they are, and promise him that you will never leave him. You’ll protect him. You’ll take any mess he and his family can throw at you- you’ll always be with him. Your promise.

|- ‘But I took your hand, promised I'd withstand

Any blaze you blew my way

'Cause something inside, it solidified

And I knew I'd always stay’ -|

And he believes you, of course. Its so nice to be looked at so softly, especially by someone as pretty as you.

I- ‘You can build me up, you can tear me down

You can try but I'm unbreakable

You can do your best, but I'll stand the test

You'll find that I'm unshakeable

When the fire's burnt

When the wind has blown

When the water's dried, you'll still find stone

My heart of stone’ -|

And you prove yourself. You prove over and over again that no matter what he, or the twins, or Drayton, or even Grandpa throws at you- you’ll survive and you’ll stay, and you’ll never stop looking at him in that lovely soft way.

|- ‘You say we're perfect

A perfect family’ -|

You get pregnant of course because everyone in the Sawyers / Hewitts family has a breeding kink and you can’t tell me otherwise, and the birth is of course very difficult because Drayton isn’t about to pay for hospital bills. So you’re in their home, in all the mess and the dirt and with no sort of aesthetic, and…

|- ‘Soon I'll have to go

I'll never see him grow’ -|

You don’t make it. Your babies born fine and healthy, and you bring another strong Sawyer boy to the family, but you’re gone.

‘Get Down’ (Reader as Anne of Cleves): Norman Bates as Henry

Ich bin Anne of Cleves Ja! When he saw my portrait, he was like Ja! But I didn't look as good as good as I did in my pic Funny how we all discuss that but never Henry's little-

So, one day, Norman decides its time to properly settle down (Long after his mother… ah… ‘dies’) and get a partner, and because there isn’t really anyone around where he lives to date or, even, who wouldn’t get creeped out by him and his taxidermy, he turns to online dating.

He meets you there. You own and run your own hotel in the next state over, you don’t mind his taxidermy at all, and your profile picture looks… hauntingly familiar (If you look nothing like Vera Farmiga go by the original movie- she was but a skeleton there so she really could be anyone).

|- ‘Sittin' here all alone

On a throne

In a palace that I happen to own

I'm not fake 'cause I've got acres and acres

Paid for with my own riches’ -|

And you two get along great over messages! You online date for a good year before Norman proposes you elope and come to live with him! You think you’ve known him long enough, and you trust him!

So you fly right over, and he meets you at the airport, and…

He’s disappointed.

Like, ‘sorry, nah, you don’t look enough like mama so this isn’t gonna work’. In a more fidgety, quiet, subdued kind of way though. He’s so awkward with communication that he even suggests that you doctored your profile picture.

I- ‘You, you said that I tricked ya

'Cause I, I didn't look like my profile picture’ -|

And, understandably, you’re p i s s e d, and disgusted! But ya’ll already got married over the internet, so theirs no stopping that! This is your husband. You realise you’ve made a huge mistake and go right back to your home and your hotel to get divorce papers drawn up.

You’re the queen of your own fucking castle, who needs him?

|- ‘I'm the queen of the castle

Get down, you dirty rascal

'Cause I'm the queen of the castle’ -|

You are understandably, very very mad. And you say some things to Norman about he and his mother, that… may be true… but that he certainly doesn’t appreciate.

When you finally get the papers, and you’ve been separated long enough for it to be legal, you go back to the Bates Motel to get Norman to sign them and stay over a night. You’ve calmed down enough that you’re able to have a pleasant conversation with him, and you decide that you’re too tired to take the plane back home right away so you take up Normans offer to stay in one of vacant rooms (*Cough* So you basically have the run of the place. Or they do. *Cough).

Norman is also pretty calm about the whole thing as well, like you! But… Norma, is still seething.

You don’t wake up the next morning.

‘All You Wanna Do’ (Reader as Kathrine Howard): Mayor Buckman as Henry (And Harper as Thomas)

Prick up your ears, I'm the Catherine who lost her head (Beheaded) For my promiscuity outside of wed Lock up your husbands Lock up your sons K. Howard is here and the fun's begun

Right, so, you haven’t had good luck in love throughout your life, so you decide to give up on boys entirely.

|- ‘So I decided to have a break from boys

And you'll never guess who I met’ -|

… And meet a man, not much later. A man in power; A mayor. A man who’s been married before and has a beard (So you know; He’s a man. XD No little boy.). This is of course Buckman. He calls you love, and you get a job in Pleasant Valley that keeps you comfortably busy. You feel like, finally, you’re where you belong. You feel fulfilled- no committed relationships are necessary.

|- ‘Globally revered

Although you wouldn't know it from the look of that beard

Made me a lady in waiting

Hurled me and my family up in the world

Gave me duties in court and he swears it's true

That without me, he doesn't know what he'd do

He cares so much, he calls me love’ -|

But then Buckman tells you that he cares about you. You have a connection. He doesn’t feel just ‘friendly’ feelings towards you- he wants more. And, though you are a little disappointed that your solitude didn’t last, you decide that he’s decent enough (’He is rather kind to me, and he does makes me smile a fair bit’, you try to reason with yourself that this is a good idea) and so you start to go out. Its not long before you’re married.

|- ‘So we got married Woo…’

Woo…’ -|

But being married to him isn’t easy. Not at all. You’re not use to politics; There are so many rules now, and he’s always too busy to help. And the rest for Pleasant Valley are a bit… odd. And you just don’t fit in. And this is wear Harper (Thomas) comes in.

|- ‘With Henry, it isn't easy

His temper's short, and his mates are sleazy

Except for this one courtier

He's a really nice guy, just so sincere

The royal life isn't what I planned

But Thomas is there to lend a helping hand

So sweet, makes sure that I'm okay

And we hang out loads when the King's away’ -|

And he’s so lovely and caring towards you (Never more then when Buckman leaves for business in other towns), helping you through the transition from your old life to this one. He’s a good friend, to you. And that is most definitely all he is, on your side of it. A friend. You don’t feel attractions towards him at all apart from that, and he doesn’t try to make any moves. Its wonderful!

|- ‘This guy, finally

Is what I want, the friend I need

Just mates, no chemistry

I get him and he gets me’ -|

… Until one day when Buckman has been away for a month, he tells you he cares about you. You have a connection. He doesn’t feel just ‘friendly’ feelings towards you- he wants more.

|- ‘He says we have a connection

I thought this time was different

Why did I think he'd be different?

But it's never, ever different’ -|

Lets just say one things leads to another, despite you at first turning him away and saying no. He’s so insistent, and a little scary, and you’re lonely because your husbands’ has been away so long, and… something happens that you regret and feel gross about.

|- ‘Squeeze me, don't care if you don't please me

Bite my lip and pull my hair

As you tell me, I'm the fairest of the fair

Playtime's over.’ -|

You tell Buckman when he gets home, and you watch as every bit of warmth and love in his eye disappears, just like that.

Its not long after that that his jealousy and betrayed rage takes over… and… you die with a rope around your neck and your feet swaying above the ground.

|- ‘Playtime’s over’ -|

(Alternatively, Sheriff Hoyt as Henry and Thomas as Thomas)

‘I Don’t Need Your Love’ (Reader as Catherine Parr): Jason Voorhees as Henry (Your last love was Jason when he was alive)

Five down, I'm the final wife I saw him to the end of his life I'm the survivor Catherine Parr I bet you wanna know how I got this far I said I bet you wanna know how we got this far Do you wanna know how we got this far then?

So, you’re like the leader of the ‘Slashers Ex Squad’ because you, unlike the others, survived your time with Jason. This is because Jason did, truly, love you (To an extent- not enough to let you go and live your life without him or be free). None of the others really did. Not like he did.

|- ‘Became the one who survived’ -|

Your story:

You and Jason had an adorable little 11-year-old puppy love relationship when he was alive. You were his only friend, and he had it bad for you because of it. Pamela loved you, too.

When he died you were of course devastated, and years later when you were 30 (Making him also thirty- not that you know that. You still think he’s dead at this point) you’re taken by the need to go back to Camp Crystal Lake and pay your respects to your childhood love / friend. Its just one of those nostalgic days.

When you go, and you set flowers down by the lake, Jason catches sight of you. He thinks about killing you… but then your features start to make sense to him. He recognises you, and for the first time since his mother was killed, he feels his heartbeat speed up and swell with hope.

Jason of course kidnaps you then, and keeps you hostage for himself. He missed you. He doesn’t want to survive anymore time without you. You’re all he has left!

… After you realise that this is Jason Voorhees, you quickly learn that this Jason is, of course, not the boy that you cared, and care, so deeply about. He’s done horrible things, and he is never going to stop; And frankly, deep inside… he scares you.

But its not like you can leave him! He would never let you, he’s made that clear. You are all he has, and now, he is all that you have.

|- ‘I don't have a choice

If Henry says "it's you", then it's you

No matter how I feel

It's what I have to do’ -|

So you write a letter to the old Jason (And your old life), saying goodbye, in admittance to the fact that you’ll never be able to get away from this new Jason. This is you letting go of your freedom and any preconceptions that anything will every be the same- with Jason, or otherwise.

|- ‘It's true I'll never be over you 'Cause I have built a future in my mind with you And now the hope is gone There's nothing left for me to do’

'Cause I have built a future in my mind with you

And now the hope is gone

There's nothing left for me to do’ -|

You never stop hating him for how he’s changed (How he’s taken your Jason away, and wont even attempt to go back) and how he’s stolen away your freedom.

|- ‘I'd say "Henry, yeah it's true

I'll never belong to you

'Cause I am not your toy, to enjoy till there's something new

As if I'm gonna give up my boy, my work, my dreams

To care for you"

"Ha, darling, get a clue”

But I can't say that

Not to the king’ -|

You eventually die of natural causes at, like, 60.

130 notes · View notes

heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

Text

As it Was II: His Girl

Summary: You haven’t always been his girl. Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader A/N: ANGST! Thank you for all the feedback and love! As it Was will be a 3 part series. Part 2 is told from Bucky’s perspective. See you next time for Part 3 :)

It’s always relief that washes over him first when he pulls into the road, seeing the house the same as when he left. The pinwheels, the mailbox, the swing you shove him into even though you know he doesn’t fit.

His playful girl with a stubborn streak.

It’s been two weeks without his girl and his home. He’s been on longer missions, but two weeks is two weeks too long, just as they all are.

The second emotion he feels is anticipation. Excitement for the embrace he’ll give and receive. The kisses, the fingers through his hair, the knowledge that you will be rushing downstairs and into his arms.

Sundown arrives late in the evening when summertime’s daylight spans nearly fifteen hours in the heat of June. The meadow buzzes alive in the breeze, ruffling winged insects through the tufts of wild grass and blown dandelions. His boots tread through the path, startling the idyllic soil beneath them.

There are no footsteps to herald his return, today; Bucky comes home to your back in front of the kitchen window. The door creaks open as he steps in, duffel bag in tow. He always imagines he would surprise you after these long trips, but that damn door and its loud hinges will never allow him the chance.

“Darlin’?” He calls, pushing it shut gently with his foot, “You alright?”

You turn, chin tucked into the hollow space of your collarbone and shoulder. The loosened braid of your hair sways over your spine, saffron half-wilted blossoms of Black-Eyed Susans gazing at him sadly.

The setting sun scatters against the window, streams through those sheer embroidered curtains you love so much, even though he says baby, they don’t do anything. His stubborn girl scoffs and fluffs then anyway.

He’s glad for those useless curtains now as the light illuminates your side profile. The corona of your shape from across the house makes him sigh in wonder.

His girl, wrapped in floating cream gauze. His girl, standing by the sink with oranges. His girl, soft and beautiful and bright, waiting for him.

You haven’t always been soft.

You haven’t always been his girl.

He knows something is wrong when you remain immobile, clutching the edge of the counter, abandoned cup of hand-squeezed juice and the carcasses of two halves next to the reamer.

“Honey? I’m coming over to you. Stay right there.”

You collapse in his arms before he gets the chance to lock them around. You smell crisp and clean, just a little briny with sweat from time spent outside. The jars on the counter and table are full again, this time accented with plucked sprigs of lavender and a small cattail from the pond.

“Oh, Buck,” You press your face into his shoulder, scrubbing your brow on the rough fabric of his jacket, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” He pauses, fingers prodding lightly over your body, searching for some physical aspect that might explain your ailment. Nothing. You hold tighter to him, letting your weight press down, and he supports you easily, nose rubbing the exposed skin of your neck.

“Where’s our little guy?”

“He’s sleeping. He chased ducks and then they chased him. Planted completely in mud. Bath time was… exhausting.”

Both of you chuckle at that. Little James, that precious boy had a rowdy streak in him, always too eager to rile something up— sometimes even his mother.

The laughter subsides as he continues to rub your back, waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop. Your heartache seeps into him, dampens his eyes and mouth, licking its way into his belly.

This happens, sometimes, because it’s bound to. The grief comes and goes, and when it arrives hard and grim, he cradles you in his arms regardless of how much he wishes his love is enough to keep you happy.

Today seems to be one of those days.

And it’s because you haven’t always been his girl.

He used to worry himself to sleep, straining to see your outline in the deep darkness of the bedroom. The house, sheltered by tree and leaves, lies so far away from the city that on a moonless night, he felt lost in a sea of ink.

The house once belonged to someone else. His place in the bed, too. The impression of a body larger than him, grander than him, a body you loved more than him. It would cradle him in its unsympathetic crease, and he would lie awake, listen to your deep breaths, soothe your nightmare sobbing, call your name when you would stutter Steve.

Steve. Steve. Steve.

The shadow that had hung over you both.

Steve was always ‘til the end of the line, until he wasn’t.

He wasn’t for Bucky, and he wasn’t for you.

Bucky had come back into the world five years later, found you and Steve elbow deep in the trenches of alien bodies and death—watched a love that had bloomed so fully continue to thrive, and it gave him hope.

Hope for himself, hope for the next day. Until it just… wasn’t.

Steve left Bucky, and Steve left you.

The cabin that evening had been illuminated by a single campfire in the front yard. The smell of burning objects and scorched kindling coaxed him forward. In front of the blaze, you stood, hair fixed into a tight knot. That shaved side he always liked glowed orange and red diagonal lines.

You knew, of course, way before he even arrived. You were always the quickest of them— alert, perched, could give Clint’s arrows a run for his money.

Hey.

He had never heard that gravel in your voice before.

In the flames were photographs, corners eaten away and twisted with heat until they turned black. Clothes, bed sheets, books, even the sketchbook— that old, leather-bound thing Steve always kept close to his chest. You had thrown them all in.

Wanna roast some marshmallows? Let’s get fat on sugar and chocolate. The world is safe.

A spark crackled in the fire the same time your voice did, but Bucky closed his eyes. Let you regain your composure because he knew you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you cry. Your voice was strained, full of resentment.

Everyone’s gone back to where they should be.

He smiled, lopsided and broken.

Not me. I’m here eatin’ marshmallows with you.

And then, joylessly, you had pointed to the dwindling pile of Steve’s fossils strewn about.

Throw some shit in. It feels good.

Your hand links itself inside of his as you tug him out of the kitchen and towards the living room couch. You place the glass into his palm, watch him drink the juice and kiss the corner of his mouth where a droplet remains. He loves it when you’re sweet, told you once it’s his favorite thing about you—that you can rot his teeth and hurt his stomach and he’ll still come back for seconds.

Thirds. Fourths. You scoffed, fixed on the anecdote of food, your appetite will bankrupt us.

He agreed then, kept the joke running.

“What is it?” Bucky’s hand finds your jaw, lifts it gently until he can see your eyes crawling with veins and lined in red, puffed, swollen. Crying again. “What is it, hon?”

Since James, you’ve started crying a million times more than he ever thought a person could—when he gets a fever, you cry. When he falls, you cry. He thinks it’s ridiculous, that you—his girl who can stab a man better even than he can—that when James cries, you cry. Darling, he is two and he will cry because a leaf dropped.

But you haven’t cried like this in months, almost a year—not like this, not split open and prolonged.

Bucky heart swells with dread when he thinks about why your face is raw with rubbing. “Is it?”

“Yeah.” You mutter, “Steve… he’s back. Stopped by earlier.”

His tongue feels like lead, sinking into his throat to strangle him. He hadn’t heard Steve’s name from your mouth in almost a year. The world had turned and turned without Steve Rogers, and when it seemed like both of you might have finally let go of the ghost, he comes back.

Where does Bucky start?

His girl, burrowed into his chest, tucked away in his arms, hides her face now. His girl, will she still be his girl?

It was only a few years ago that a new love sprung from the ashes of a dying one. And the corpse had lived a long life, full of memories that haunted you both. Bucky and Steve had quite a long life together, too.

He clutches tighter, rubs his arms up and down yours, squeezes like he is hoping you might just sink into his chest. Stay safe inside of him where the pain can’t find you anymore.

“Can we go to bed?” You sob suddenly, shaking in his hold, “Please let’s go to bed.”

He hated that bed for so long.

You used to lie in it for days at a time. He would come by and you would be upstairs in the loft on your side and staring out the window. Hey, Buck. The whole house smelled like earth and salt, as if you had flooded the wood with tears and it was still drying out.

Have you eaten? Have you slept? Have you done anything?

You only laughed dryly and burrowed deeper into the brand-new sheets, like everything else that used to be shared between two people. Do what? Go where? Sleep to dream of him? No, thank you.

Bucky had stomped downstairs, rummaged through the cabinets, found the half open bag of marshmallows from three weeks ago- stale and slightly stiff, and shoved handfuls of it into your mouth. You said we’d get fat on sugar. You better fucking eat this.

When both your cheeks were full and the sad tears turned into happy ones, he sat back with his arms crossed at the edge of the bed and huffed. And you’d spit the enormous, drenched, sticky pile out down your shirt and held your head in both your hands. I’m so fucked, Bucky. I’m screwed. I’m fucking screwed.

He didn’t know what you meant, because he was grieving too, but that string of panicked statements rang a thought more desperate than any he could have. Bucky didn’t feel fucked without Steve. Bucky felt… discarded. He felt… abandoned, forgotten, small. But he didn’t feel fucked.

It took two more visits, two more weeks, and an extraordinarily rainy night before you told him the truth.

There was shattered glass against the wall and your body slumped down on the opposite side of the kitchen. There was wracked sobbing, fingernails digging into your scalp and shoulder until he peeled them away pricked in red. Two months had passed, and you were pregnant. Did Steve know? Did you tell him? He would have stayed, if he knew.

Bucky had suddenly grown hopeful for a past that already passed. Steve would have stayed. Did the chance slip from you, to tell him? Did you know too late?

I had just found out. But then he told me his news first and … fuck him. Fuck him for leaving. Why would I tell him? So he could stay for a clump of cells and not me? So he could love an obligation and pine for a ghost? Fuck him.

And then suddenly, the clawing resumed, and Bucky wrestled to keep your hands away from your body, wrapping his legs over yours, holding you tight until your squirming died. He pressed his chin to the top of your head, gripped your back to his chest, and you both rocked on the floor. It’s gonna be okay. I got you. I’m here with you.

It rained the night you told him. It rained again when the boy arrived.

Nine months you carried him inside of you, hated him, hated his father, hated yourself.

Helen came to the cabin, because you couldn’t be bothered to leave. You were happy to die in labor, you had said with a grin. Bucky stood by her side, mouth set in a firm line and told you to shut the fuck up.

At that, you genuinely laughed so hard you had to cover your entire face with your hands and when you pulled them away, suddenly, Bucky thought that the glow some women get when they’re pregnant must have been twice as true for you.

The boy came with a clap of thunder.

Bucky had known carnage, but the birth was terrible and horrific and when you went pale with the loss, he swore that if you got what you wanted, he would die with you. Helen yelled at him to get the water, get the rags, and the bucket, and the needle. Wash the boy, wrap him, hustle, Sergeant!

The bundle thrust into his arms was softer than sand, wetter than water, crimson and sluiced with blood. Two blue eyes gleamed out of the swath of blanket and even though people say newborns are beautiful, he could only see a red and angry thing, tearing the life from you with the eyes of his old best friend.

Now his old best friend has returned for his old girl and his new baby boy.

And Bucky’s girl is still in his arms, pleading for him to let her rest.

“Okay, darlin’, let me clean up first. I’ll tuck you in.”

You grip his collar and tangle your hands in his hair, clambering to get into his lap. The skirt of your dress folds over all four entwined legs and you suddenly press your mouth to his in a blistering kiss.

“Let’s make a baby,” you sob distraughtly. “W-we… I-I want to make a baby with you, Bucky.”

He quiets your rambling, stills his own heartbreak for the sake of attending to yours, and returns your fever with softness.

“We’ve got one, hon’. He’s in bed.” He presses his forehead against yours and smiles, tries to make it look real so that you believe him, “Baby, we got a boy and he’s wonderful, even if he makes his mama chase him through mud.”

He loves that boy. He loves him like his own flesh and blood, and he’ll be damned if Steve thinks he can take him away.

Upstairs, a whine signals your attention, followed by a sound of choked crying before the wail of your son breaks loose. “C’mon,” Bucky urges.

He climbs slowly, waiting for you each step of the way. You linger, feet heavy along with your heart. By the time you make it through the doorway, Bucky already has James in his arms, rubbing his back, humming to him.

The boy fists Bucky’s hair, squeezing a handful in pulses, blubbering and singing a tuneless song. “Daddy’s home. Daddy, daddy. Sunnyshine outside.”

Bucky laughs, “James, it’s nighttime.” He kisses the top of James’ head anyway, “Can’t blame you, though, you’re too small to see out the window. We gotta teach you how to tell time.”

“Time t’ play?”

“No… time to go back to sleep.” Then, Bucky puts his head on top of James’ and pretends to snore loudly, the sound vibrating from his chest and into those golden locks. A shrill giggle escapes him and he pulls away just to come back and press his cheeks to his father’s face.

Bucky walks over to where you stand with your eyes pressed to the heel of your palms and tilts James up to your face. “Mama’s tired too, let’s all go to bed, yeah?”

Blessedly, the boy relents. He reaches over almost teetering out of Bucky’s arms and pulls on the thumb by your ear. “Night mama, love you.”

On the edge of the bed, the old imprint has been pressed out. Bucky takes off his shoes, stretches his back and motions for you to come next to him. He kisses your fingertips and brushes the hair from your face, combs out the wilted wildflowers and you lean into his touch.

It’s been silent since James fell asleep. He can hear crickets and cicadas outside the window, woodland creatures coming alive in the twilight.

He watches the way your lips bend and fold inside your mouth to keep yourself locked away.

Sometimes your love is hidden inside a puzzle his hands are too clumsy to place together. There are pieces missing, he thinks, but still, he tries. Sometimes you blissfully help him with the task and sometimes you’re away from the table.

Tonight, you’re far from him. Lost somewhere in the memory and possibility of two hands many times more delicate than his.

Steve. Steve. Steve.

And he wonders if your heart will ever beat his name like that old rhythm it had known so well.

Your weight dips the mattress, and you lean your head onto his shoulder. “I love you.”

He hears it, but he never really hears it.

Not in the way it used to leave your tongue. Stevie, I love you. You giant idiot! You meatball, Steve! Full of ringing laughter right before you would crush your mouth to his, tug him by the collar into the dark of Cap’s compound bedroom.

The only flames Bucky knew were shared in moments of desperation, when the pain was too much and the fire was necessary.

James tucked into his crib, you crumpled on the floor. Bucky would sit by your side night after night, as he had been doing for the last thirteen months. It was dark, then, not even illuminated by a moonbeam.

You held on to his shirt, pushed him down, pressed both your hands to his neck and whispered. Thank you. Thank you. I love you. I love you.

The first kiss shared was wet and salty, tears slipping into the space between two open mouths. Teeth clicked, nails scratched, and you wouldn’t even let him pull away enough to ask if you were sure about it.

He knew you were beautiful. Seen it for years and years. But when you slipped off the shirt from your shoulders, the moon seemed to shine right out from your skin.

He worried himself to sleep next to you that night.

“What do you want to do?” He asks now, pushing his fear away, “I’m here for you, whatever you want. Whatever is best.”

Your chin jabs his shoulder, “You are best. You are best for me, and James, and Bucky—d--” Tears roll down your cheeks, plop big, wet, crystal balls onto his arm. “Don’t you dare.”

For the second time that night, you crawl into his lap, straddle his waist, and his breath is punched out of his lungs in awe of your beauty. “I love you, idiot. Don’t ever say that to me again.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your mouth, “I won’t.”

The flame burns tonight. You undress him with deft fingers, yanking his clothes, hissing when he pulls away to peel the shirt off— as if not touching him pains you. The dress stays on your waist, rucked up, its straps tugged down and the top pulled open to expose your chest—soft, heaving with love and agony.

Bucky. Bucky. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.

Desperate, again.

He’s not sure if you’re convincing him or yourself.

You tug his hair, grip his chest and back, kiss him until his head spins. The bed creaks softly, as if it doesn’t want to interrupt the sounds that your bodies create together.

He makes love to you, and even though he is bone tired from the mission and the drive, he doesn’t feel it until you tremble in his arms and slump against his chest. He doesn’t attend to himself until you’re underneath the covers, breathing deeply.

Then, Bucky lies down too, runs his hand through his hair and sobs into that inky night.

“Bucky?”

His heart stops beating in his chest. He’s frozen and caught.

You turn on your side, hand finding his damp cheek with some difficulty in the dark. “Baby,” you sigh, “Oh, Bucky...” A loud sniffle, a choke, and then your nose rubs against his. Your lips pat his tears away, kitten licks over the line of his sharp jaw.

“You’ve always been so good to me, baby. Always so good.”

He’s heard those words before from your lips, after the boy came with the rain. Your eyes had fluttered and closed as Helen leaned against the doorframe, tearing off her gloves.

She’s okay, Sergeant. She’s just resting. You should, too.

He refused her, watched the baby in the makeshift bassinet as Helen unpacked her overnight bag in the guest room. He wiped your forehead with a damp towel, listened to the rain crash against the window, and sat down in the chair.

The room was a closed chamber trapping in the smell of wet pennies and sweat. He tugged the windowpane open and placed towels on the floor to catch the downpour. You woke with a yelp, jerked awake by thunder and a streak of lightning. It was only for a second, but Bucky held onto your hand, let you slip back to sleep.

Helen roused you both in the morning, let you hold the baby, taught you how to turn him on his stomach, how to settle him down, how to nurse. Bucky had stood up, ready to dismiss himself before he caught your wide eyes, terrified of the life in your arms.

He stayed as Helen guided your hand to massage the boy’s cheek. Little fists clenched the slipped-off hem of your shirt, his mouth opened, and you cried when he latched on.

The rain had subsided in the late hours of the night and the sun was rising high, streaming luminously into the loft. Helen moved to draw the curtains and give you some reprieve from the rays, but Bucky stopped her; you needed the sun and its warmth.

She nodded and agreed, and he slowly went to the bed and kneeled, looking up into your red eyes soaking your face.

Hey. He had smiled, wiping the trickling streams, Look. He nodded to the illuminated window, bent finger stroking the boy wrapped in cloth. No more rain, darlin’, it’s sunny out.

Outside was gold. Like the boy’s head. And you thought, like Bucky’s heart.

You’re so good to me. You cried, even though he quietly asked you to stop, because if you didn’t, he would start, too. You’ve always been so good to me.

Nine agonizing months and Bucky Barnes had been your rock and center and lighthouse in the dark.

Bucky, I love you.

It was a sunny morning when he wept and held his little family in his arms.

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #james buchanan barnes #steven grant rogers #as it was heli0s

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vincent-frankenstein · 5 years ago

Note

"Do you...well...I could give you a massage?" With prinxiety? Maybe Virgil is stressed and Roman doesn't know quite how to help? Maybe vice versa? Anyways love your writing so much and you make my life complete ahahaaa 💕💕

Summary: Virgil’s got a troubled life. Roman helps in the best ways he can.

Warnings: references to child abuse, panic attacks, Bad Feelings

Pairing: platonic prinxiety (more brotherly than anything)

Roman's halfway through mustering the courage to open his physics homeworkwhen a figure slides through his open window and lands in a heap on the floor.He barely bats an eye at the sudden intrusion.

"I thought we already talked about your nasty habit of breaking andentering, Three Gays Grace," he says, fingers tapping against the unopenedfolder on his desk. "I was in the middle of something."

But then the figure stands and Roman notices the discomfort rolling off himin waves, cold tendrils of fear buzzing through the air around him. His face iswet, and deathly pale; Roman can see his hands trembling through his hoodiepockets. He stands in an instant, homework forgotten.

"What's wrong?" he asks, voice snapping with urgency."Virgil, what's wrong?"

Virgil makes a strangled half-noise and lifts his hands to ball them up inhis hair. Roman's at his side in an instant, hands hovering just above hisshoulders. His mind races; a thousand different grounding methods burst to theforefront of his mind and he grabs one at random, pressing his hands down ontoVirgil's arms, steady, warm. Together they sink to the floor.

"Follow my breathing," he says, exaggerating the noise of his nextinhale so Virgil can hear. He counts out a steady beat in his head - one, two,three, four, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven - and moves his hands upand down Virgil's arms with each inhale and exhale. Virgil's breath stutters sobadly he can hardly follow along - he reaches one, two, three, then hiccups andfalls back to one, then heaves several one-second breaths until his eyes aresqueezed tightly shut and he shakes so badly under Roman's touch that Romanfears he'll break.

But then he reaches four - then seven - and then eight. He completes onebreath, and then another, and his face un-scrunches. For a split-second hemelts into Roman's touch, dissolving under the weight of his fingertips.

Roman feels rather than sees the moment Virgil shoves his walls back intoplace. His shoulders go rigid; his face darkens, and he huffs out a shortbreath that shifts the tousled bangs hanging in his face. He's pulling awaybefore Roman can stop him, standing, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"Virgil -"

"Sorry 'bout that," he says, gruff, a low grating growl of avoice. "I know you don't like it when I come in unannounced."

"I don't like it when you come in to throw water balloons at my head otrelease live crickets into my room." Roman sighs, running a hand throughhis hair. Distantly, he notices it's shaking. "This is different."

Virgil shifts, forcing a laugh. "Hey, the crickets weren't my idea,Princey. Blame your brother for that."

He wants Roman to rise to the bait, wants them to fall into their familiarbanter and wash away whatever that was. Roman won't let him. "Mhm.Are you going to tell me what that was about?"

"Nah," Virgil says, with a casual shrug that's so obviously forcedit comes off more tense than anything. "Mystery loves company,right?"

"Virgil." Roman catches his eyes and narrows his own. In truth, hehardly expects anything in return; he and Virgil were banter buds and nothingmore, a far cry from the comforting relationships Virgil had forged with Loganand Patton. Just the fact that Virgil chose to come to him in the first placewas strange enough.

But to his great surprise, Virgil holds his glare for a steady moment - andthen deflates. His shoulders lift up to his ears as his gaze drops to thefloor, and he mumbles. "M'parents," he mutters, and it's a wonderRoman can understand him. "They're... yknow. Fighting."

"Oh." Roman hesitates. He'd known, distantly, that Virgil's homelife wasn't the best, but Virgil had never willingly talked about itbefore. "I'm so sorry."

"It's nothing," Virgil says, with a laugh that sounds anything buthumorous. "Just got to be a bit too... much." He waves his handsthrough the air, grimacing.

"It's not nothing," Roman says, a dull spark of anger curlingthrough his lungs. "I can fight them for you. I have a sword. I'll doit."

Virgil doesn't laugh. His grimace deepens, eyes closing, a sharp breathpuffing from his nose. He wraps his arms around himself and takes a step back,and Roman feels hot inadequacy spilling like lava into the pit of his stomach.

"M'sorry," Virgil says, taking another step back. He's nearly tothe window now; Roman's seized with the sudden urge to yank it shut. "Ishouldn't have bothered you with this. I'll just - I'll just go -"

"No!" Roman bursts out, hand lifting. Virgil stops, eyes flyingwide, and for a moment they stay just like that - neither talking, neithermoving, caught in limbo as Roman searches desperately for some way to comforthim. "Do you... well... I could give you a massage?"

A massage? The moment the words leave his mouth he regrets them. Wholooks at a kid caught in the throes of familial turmoil and offers them a massage?

But then Virgil snorts. And it's a real snort, not some half-assed fake;Roman can see it in the way his eyes light up. "A massage, Princey?"he asks, lips quirking up, and Roman decides to roll with it.

"Why not?" he says. "I'll have you know I'm a certifiedmassagier!"

"That's not the word."

"Masoose?"

"Also no."

"I am a certified giver of massages!" Roman declared, too boldlyfor Virgil to retort. "My hands are as utterly enchanting as the rest ofme."

"Weird flex, but okay," Virgil says. He shrugs off his hoodie anddrops to the floor, crossing his legs beneath him.

"O-Okay?" Roman repeats, faltering. "Wait, you - you actuallywant me to -"

"Not like I have anything better to do," Virgil says, rolling hiseyes. His gaze catches on the window, and Roman understands; he just doesn'twant to go home.

If Roman had his way, Virgil would never have to set foot in that place everagain. But he doesn't have that kind of power, so instead he lowers himselfdown behind Virgil and shakes his hands until they're loose. "Tell me ifyou become uncomfortable," he says.

"I'm always uncomfortable," Virgil retorts, but he nods. Romanlets out a breath and settles his hands in the curve of Virgil's neck, runningthem down along his shoulders, thumbs pressing into his shoulder blades. Heexpects Virgil to tense up at the feeling.

He doesn't expect Virgil to melt beneath his hands - nor does he expect thesoft noise Virgil makes, somewhere in the back of his throat. "Alright,hun," he says, putting on a thick accent, like a cliche hairdresser."Tell me, how're things?"

"Shit," Virgil says. "They're shit." But he's laughing,and Roman takes that as a good sign.

"Ugh, I know the feeling, honey, I know the feeling." He shiftshis hands to the sides of Virgil's face, ever-so-gently massaging his temples."Better now that you're in my hands, I bet?"

"Yeah, sure," Virgil snorts. "I just -" He cuts off,nose twitching, and Roman's hands still.

"You can talk to me, hun," Roman says. Then, with no accent:"I promise."

Virgil groans. "It's just-!" He growls, throwing his hands up inthe air. "They're allowed to be as - as cruel to each other as they want,as cruel to me as they want, but the moment I say anything about it I'mthe bad guy! It's stupid!"

It's a cold day in hell when Roman Grimm can't think of anything to say, buthe's really, truly stuck. Instead he hums, and runs his hands down Virgil'sarms. Virgil shivers.

"I dunno," he says, anger fading as quickly as it came. "Like- I shouldn't complain. Loads of people have it worse, yknow?"

"Loads of people have it better, too," Roman says, a quiet angerrunning beneath his words. For a long moment, Virgil doesn't respond. He'shardly even breathing, the little breaths he does take short and uneven, andfor a moment Roman hesitates, wondering if he's going to have to ground Virgilall over again.

Then he sighs. "I don't wanna go back," he says, in a voice sosmall it breaks Roman's heart. He hesitates, hands stilling against Virgil'sshoulders, eyes narrowing.

Then he gasps. The brilliant lightning of inspiration has struck, and hefeels electrified beneath it, face glowing with excitement. "You can stayhere tonight!" he says, scrambling around to face Virgil.

Virgil blinks and leans back, eyes narrowing. "What?"

"Come on, don't tell me you've never had a sleepover before!"Roman takes Virgil's hands in his own, leaning close. "It'll be fun! Wecan stay up late, watching chick-flicks and doing each other's makeup -"

Virgil lifts an eyebrow, and Roman switches tracks. "Or we could...watch horror movies 'til the witching hour and listen to your pg-13music?"

At that, Virgil's face brightens somewhat, sunlight filtering down throughthe clouds. Still, he remains guarded, shoulders hunched and eyes narrowed."... Why?"

"Because it's fun, Marilyn Morose," Roman says with a rollof his eyes. Then, more sincerely, with the barest hint of a kind smile,"besides... I don't want you to have to go back there."

Virgil's cheeks color. He looks away, hands twisting in his lap. "But -your parents? And you said you were in the middle of something, I don't want to-"

"Nonsense!" Roman waves his hand through the air, dismissing thethoughts. "My parents love you, they'd be thrilled to have you! And myhomework can wait. You're the priority here."

"I -" Virgil's retort dies on his tongue and he gapes for amoment, silent, struggling to find words. His hands twist tighter, hisshoulders hunch further, and for a moment Roman wonders if he's gone too far,done something wrong -

But then Virgil shoots forward and wraps his arms around Virgil's middle.Roman only takes a moment to wonder at the fact that this is the first timethey've hugged through nearly three years of friendship before he hugs back,bracing his arms around Virgil's back.

In the weeks that follow, they'll talk. Roman's parents will find out, ofcourse, about the pain Virgil's being put through - and they'll do everythingthey can do help. A handful of months later, Virgil will move into the Grimm'sspare bedroom, and he'll never have to see his parents again if he so wishes.

But for now, Virgil melts into Roman's arms, andRoman holds him tight.

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #platonic prinxiety #sanders sides #tw abuse #tw panic attack #brotherly prinxiety has been my JAM lately i just.. love they #i think ro's parents are pat n dee #or remile?#who knows #eventually they Adopt virgil and they're a Happy Fambly #celeste's portfolio #Anonymous

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

Text

Wish You Were Here

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean's out on a hunt and you wished that he was here.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut (sexting, cunnilingus, dirty talk, somnophilia)

The sound of his heavy boots hitting the gravel echoed through the night as Dean chased after the vampire. Another sharp turn almost sent him to the floor, but he caught himself, hitting the pavement with his hand. It hurt, but what Dean learned through all the years was that nothing could hurt him more than losing the ones he loved, so he kept on running.

“Son of a bitch!” Was muttered low, slightly out of breath, and he could feel his heart pounding hard. He wasn’t 30 anymore, he could feel that. He couldn’t run as fast or jump as high as when he was younger, but what he could and still would do until the day he died, was kill monsters.

His phone vibrated in his jeans pocket, but Dean couldn’t let himself get distracted by it. Sammy was cutting in on them, it wouldn’t be Sammy. Not now. They had planned this hunt through, there couldn’t be surprises, they made sure of that.

Focus, breathe, run. That’s what Dean told himself and when he saw that the vampire was heading towards where Sam would be, a lopsided grin crept on his face.

“Gotcha!” he exclaimed at the same time as Sam rounded the corner and swung his machete, cutting the vamp’s head off. Everything went silent, except the ringing sound in Dean’s ears.

“Done,” Sam said with a satisfied grin on his face as he walked towards his brother, who was still a little behind.

Dean’s slowed to a stroll as he breathed heavily. “Good job, Sammy.”

“You did good, too,” Sam was within reach and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, still heaving up and down from his breathing. “Chasing that vamp for almost two miles at top speed? I’m impressed.”

“Yeah,” Dean inhaled sharply before he was able to talk again. “That. Fuck, I’m too old for this shit, Sammy.”

“Come on, old man. Race you to the car?” Sam had a shit eating grin on his face that Dean wanted to punch right off it.

“Fuck you,” Dean breathed out, dropping his machete to the ground and putting his hands on his knees to keep himself somewhat on his feet.

“So, motel?” Sam sent Dean a questioning look as he drove. Dean was riding shotgun for once because he was out of energy.

“Huh,” suddenly Dean remembered the vibrating in his pants and fished out his phone, “Yeah,” he said absentmindedly while pushing the home button to see the text you’d sent him.

Y/N: Miss you

Dean smiled at the two simple words, maybe even blushing a little, and suddenly he was glad that it was night and Sam couldn’t see it. He’d never hear the end of that one.

D: Miss you too.

He punched the words into his phone and hit send before looking ahead. “Can’t wait to get home,” Dean said before he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Home? You just said motel!” Dean was glad that it was dark because he was sure that he would have seen Sam rolling his eyes, and let’s not forget about the bitchface.

“Dude, I wanna go home. Plans change, alright?”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.” Dean smiled and it made Sam throw up in his mouth a little.

“Dude, she’ll be sleeping when we get home.” Sam tried to argue because he was really tired, not to mention cranky.

“Sammy, look at my face,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows at his brother. When Sam looked over, Dean added, “do I look like I care?”

Oh, there it was, he could see it clear as if it was daylight, the bitchface that Sam had perfected through the years. “Fine, whatever.”

There was another vibration and Dean looked at his phone before telling Sam what he wanted to tell him, and the words got stuck in his throat.

Y/N: I know you won’t be home til tomorrow but I can’t stop thinking of you. I really, really miss you

Dean grinned like an idiot.

D: Yeah? How much?

Y/N: So fucking much

He thought maybe you’d send a picture, even though you weren’t the kind of girl to send nudes. It’s not like he’d never tried to get you to do it.

D: What do you miss, babe?

Well, if you wouldn’t show him, maybe you’d be willing to tell him? Dean didn’t know if it’d be a good idea to push, but he sent the text anyway then sat back to wait for your reply.

“Sammy, how long?” Dean groaned, shifting in his seat. You still hadn’t replied to his text.

“Another three hours,” Sam replied.

Then Dean’s eyes were on his phone as another message came in.

Y/N: You’ve been on my mind since you left. Your hands, Dean. I can’t decide if I want your hands in my pants or my hair.

Dean chuckled and giddily typed in a reply.

D: Got two hands, can do both

It wasn’t long before you answered.

Y/N: Of course you could. And I miss your lips, I want them on mine. I also want them on my throat and that little thing you do with your teeth? Grazing my skin on your way down? That. I want that too.

D: Mmh… I wanna do that too. Tracing patterns over your skin. I wanna memorize every single perfect inch of your body.

Dean felt a stirring in his pants and he had to change his sitting position again.

Sam couldn’t help but notice. “You alright?”

“Huh?” Dean said absentmindedly, looking to his phone for another message. “Yeah, sure. Drive, Sammy.”

Sam shrugged at the weirdness in Dean’s tone of voice, but yeah, he kept on driving because he too wanted to finally get home.

Y/N: I like that. What else, Dean? What else would you do to me? I’m lying in our bed now… and I’m touching myself. Fuck, Dean, I’m soaked. Please come home?

Dean let out a strangled moan and disguised it as a cough, hoping Sam wouldn’t notice. But the text didn’t stop there. Dean only needed a moment to breathe.

Y/N: I wish you were licking my body all over right now. I love feeling your tongue on my tits, Dean. I love how you nibble my nipples with your teeth. I love your teeth and oh god then you’d move lower and lower…

Dean felt his dick harden in his pants and wished the Impala would go faster.

D: Fuck, baby. You’re making me hard. I can’t wait to do all those things to you. I wish I could feel how wet you are for me.

Y/N: Aww, you let him drive?

D: Yeah, I’m generous like that.

Y/N: Liar

D: Truth

Y/N: Ok, focus, Dean. I really want to get off tonight because you’re not here. I wish you were, though. I’d blow your mind and then blow something else later.

D: Yes, please.

Y/N: I wish I was in that car with you. In your lap. Grinding into your crotch and feeling you get so hard. I’d love to take your cock out of your pants and rub it against my soft skin. I’d rub it along my slick pussy, covering it with my juice and getting myself off on it without you being inside of me. I would go on until you couldn’t take anymore. Until you beg me to let you fuck me.

D: You’re a tease.

Y/N: Takes one to know one

D: I’d love to have you spread out in front of me. I want to taste your sweet pussy. Want you to hold on to my back when I fuck into your tight heat.

Y/N: And what about me holding you by the back of your neck? Digging my fingernails into it while you fuck me hard?

D: That too. I like it when you mark me up.

Y/N: Mmh… me too. I love it when you turn me around and grab me by my head, pushing me into the mattress and fuck into me from behind, leaving me crying into the blankets to muffle my moans.

D: And spank you

Y/N: Of course. I want you marking me up too.

D: Because you’re mine.

Y/N: I’m yours.

D: Babe, I’m… fuck I wish I could be there.

Y/N: I wish you could too.

Just when Dean was about to send another text, his phone died.

“What the fuck!” he yelled angrily.

“What?”

“My fucking phone died. I still had fucking 3% left.” Dean almost tossed the phone to the car floor but thought better of it. He opened and dug around in the glove compartment, searching for charger he knew should be there somewhere.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked while he looked over to Dean.

“The phone charger,” he mumbled, lips tight together while he concentrated on searching.

“Yeah… uh… about that,” Sam started but was interrupted by Dean’s angry look.

“Hey, I wanted to put it back. It’s just… the case came up too quickly and I didn’t… I’m sorry,” Sam sighed. Sam could see that Dean was really upset.

“Yeah, well, next time, do it!” Dean hissed and sank deeper into his seat. He could hear Sam say something, but he ignored him. He closed his eyes and willed his boner away because it would still be more than two hours until he would see you.

Dean pried his sticky self from the leather seat as soon as Sam had the Impala in park.

“You good?” the younger hunter asked as he tossed the keys back to Dean.

“Super,” Dean groaned, and stretched his aching body.

The last hour had been pure torture. He might’ve been getting old, but his libido sure didn’t have an expiration date; he was still hard, wondering if he should ask Sam if it was normal. Sam probably didn’t want to know about that, though. Dean knew he himself didn’t want to know if Sam had that problem. He shuddered when he thought about it.

Sam excused himself, mumbling something about taking a shower, or was it food? Dean didn’t know or care. He was focused on schlepping himself out of the garage and down the stairs.

As he walked along the corridor he realized that you were likely sound asleep since it wasn’t yet dawn. He thought that he should probably just go to sleep himself once he reached your room, but there was such an intense ache between his thighs.

Then the air was punched from his lungs when he entered the room. There you were, sleeping naked, the blanket casually thrown over your body, only covering half of you. When Dean thought he could ignore his boner, boy, he’d never been so wrong in his life.

He shut the door quickly and quietly, put his duffel aside as not to wake you. He smiled and wet his lips before his teeth tugged at them, biting back a sound that he so desperately wanted to make.

As gently as he could, he got onto the bed, the memory foam dipping under his weight. He stilled for a moment when he felt you stir. He waited patiently, waited until your breathing evened out again before he made the next move.

Dean exhaled, his hands slowly and oh-so-softly trailed over your legs, up to your thighs as he looked at you, positioning your body on your back. Then he stilled again, his gaze fixed on your face to see if you would wake up.

When he decided the coast was clear, he spread your thighs and his mouth watered at the sight of your delicious pussy. He could see that you were still wet, and fuck, if he didn’t want to taste it, he’d be lying.

Dean positioned himself in between your luscious thighs and swiped his tongue along your slit. Hesitantly at first then he waited. He was so close and he could smell the sweet tang of you as his hot breath hit your core.

He waited a little longer, but when you didn’t stir, he went at it. All the pent up sexual tension that had built inside of him on the way home, the sexy texts, made him horny as fuck. Dean lapped at your pussy, his hands firmly holding you down by your thighs.

You started to moan in pleasure as you slowly woke from the wettest dream yet. When you realized it wasn’t a dream at all, you smiled, trailed your hands down your body until they found Dean’s head, and Dean looked up at you, his mouth sucking at your nub. He winked and squeezed your hand.

“Good morning,” he took a second from his ministrations to greet you. There was a light chuckle before he dove in again.

“Fuck.” Your voice was throaty as the word left your lips. It made Dean smirk against you before he looked up again, his nose and mouth all shiny wet.

“Later, babe. First, I need to eat.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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luminescentauthor · 4 years ago

Text

Sora/Nao Getting Together and Relationship Headcanons!

Wow lookit me posting twice in one day!

Please read this post of HCs about their third year or this will make absolutely no sense to you! You can also read part two but it’s long and you don’t need to for this to make sense.

However, if you don’t want to read either of those, the run down is: Sora is cap, Mokichi vice; their year are all on first-name basis since around the end of second year; when people ask if any of the three boys are dating, all four of them just shrug and smile cryptically, because they got really sick of people asking; Nao briefly had a boyfriend named Nakamura but turned out he was just trying to get info on her team for his school so he cheated on her and the team rioted. Tobi and Madoka beat him up.)

This is four and a half pages of a Google Doc, so please see below the cut for the HCs!

Oh also btw this has minor Tobi/Mokichi because, hello, Tobi is living in my mind rent free and he’s not letting me evict him. (Even though I would really, really like to.)

In the middle of Sora and Nao's second year, the entire rest of the boys' team plus the girls' team made a pact not to interfere with Sora and Nao's relationship, and let them sort things out on their own, because some people were getting antsy and tempted to get involved. And they are... starting to regret that.

Tobi, especially, is starting to regret that, and he kind of wants to strangle them both because they're both so dense jfc-

Chiaki is the only one who doesn't know about the pact, since the fact that Nao likes Sora has been very carefully kept from him, and basically so is anything about Nao in general. There’s a pact on the team to make sure to keep such things from him. (Momoharu is the one responsible for this and he's not the least bit sorry. It’s saved him so much pain.)

Nao has been crushing on Sora since first year, and Sora not denying it when people ask if they're dating is NOT helping her feelings, good God.

She spends like a solid twenty minutes every day panicking and/or crying in the arms of one of her friends on the girls' team and/or Tobi.

He is arguably her closest friend on the team beyond Sora (read here for my post about why I think they’re friends), and has long since passed the point of sympathetic into "Oh my God just ask ‘im out, Jesus-" and honestly, so has pretty much everyone except Mokichi, but Mokichi has the patience of a saint.

Sora probably got over Madoka in his second year if he confessed to her (again) and she gently rejected him or if she found a boyfriend (read: Momoharu, probably. I dunno if they worked out, but if they didn’t they remained very good friends. Yes, that’s actually a thing people can do!)

Some time passed, he was over it, and then he developed a more serious crush on Nao after a while.

And it just keeps getting worse and Sora is not thrilled with that. In fact, he's panicking, because feelings.

He's spent a grand total of at least nine hours on the phone ranting to Momoharu (because again, Nao does not get mentioned to Chiaki, so Momoharu it is!)

The entire rest of the team is suffering. First years, second years, Tobi and Mokichi, and those who have graduated. No one is spared. The girls' team has been roped in as well. More than a few people bond over sheer doneness with these two idiots.

Tobi, calling Momoharu: I wanna Die.

Momoharu: Mood, why?

Tobi: Nao ‘as the biggest crush on Sora and won’t do anythin’ about it and I'm sufferin’.

Momoharu: CHRIST, NO -- HE'S DOING THE SAME THING I’M -- WHY IS THIS MY LIFE???

Tobi: Oh my God.

Tobi: I hate them both so, so much.

Momoharu, vehemently: Mood.

Tobi and Mokichi are bearing the brunt of it, and Momoharu is also dealing with quite a lot of the bullsh*t.

Tobi, bitterly, lying on his bed while on the phone with Mokichi and Momoharu: How immoral is it to lock two of yer best friends in a broom closet or locker an’ not let ‘em out ‘til they deal with their feelins like adults?

Mokichi, tiredly: Kenji-kun, no.

Momoharu: I hate to say this because I would like to see that, and it would be very cathartic, but no because they would die in that closet before fessing up.

Tobi:

Tobi: I hate that yer prolly right.

Shigeyoshi "literal actual angel" Kaname has been dealing with ranting from both parties since second year, and he and Tobi have taken to meeting up weekly for lunch or coffee for the sole purpose of complaining about their dumbass friends, and honestly? They get a lot closer because of it.

Tobi, throwing open the door to Mokichi’s house with a bang: KANAME YA ARE NOT GOIN’ TO BELIEVE THIS SH*T-

Mokichi, exasperated, staring down at his phone with its messages from Sora: Oh, I’m pretty sure I will.

Mokichi’s sister: How do you keep getting in-

Tobi: Oh I nabbed Kaname’s key like three months back.

Mokichi: wAIT is that where that go to I thought I lost it?!

Tobi: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Tobi gets roped into Sora's group of "people to rant to" with Mokichi and Momoharu and, at this point, Chiaki as well (Sora eventually told Chiaki, and Chiaki acted all comically betrayed but things were fine) (Momoharu mostly told people not to tell Chiaki in order to annoy Chiaki in all honesty.)

Tobi: Why the f*ck did I agree ta stay at this school

Mokichi: Why did I come to this school at all

Tobi: Why did I join tha basketball team

Tobi: Why did I let Sora become my friend

Tobi: How did I let Sora become my friend?????? Like how did tha’ even happen Jesus I'm still not sure

Mokichi: Poor decisions were made?

Tobi, vehemently: Poor decisions were made.

Then Nao gets a boyfriend and literally everything goes to sh*t (please read THIS POST for the context. It’s the same one I linked at the top. Again, this will make no sense without it. Go read.)

Nao is trying to get over her feelings for Sora because despite having no reason to believe so (having not... asked him about it), she firmly believes that he doesn't return them.

Mokichi has to actually physically restrain Tobi to prevent him from strangling them both on at least two occasions. Like seriously. Tobi might have really punched Sora if he hadn't been held back by local noodle-armed beanpole.

To this day absolutely none of the underclassmen (or Nao and Sora) are sure how Mokichi did that, because third-year Tobi is 180-something centimeters of pure wiry muscle and Mokichi, despite being a two-meter tall noodle, is still a noodle, and his arms are very very noodley.

Where he found the physical strength to restrain an angry Tobi is literally a complete mystery, because Tobi is strong to begin with but when you're trying to restrain his entire person from walking where he wants to? Good luck.

(The answer is he just wraps his longass noodle arms around Tobi and clings to him and is like "kay have fun dragging me around" and Tobi is like "ಠ_ಠ Kaname ya are heavy" "yes that is the point" "f*ck ya.")

Mokichi, whispering frantically on the phone: Momoharu-san please help Kenji-kun is trying to commit murder.

Tobi, yelling in the background: YA KNOW FULL WELL THA’ I CAN HEAR YA, KANAME!

Sora cries about Nao and Tobi is very tempted to just let him sulk, but Mokichi strongarms him into coming over to a sleepover at his house with Sora and basically the three of them just form a giant cuddle pile on the couch and watch stupid movies and eat a lot of ice cream while Tobi ribs Sora over anything and everything, and Sora soon finds himself laughing instead of crying.

Sora loves his friends so much??? He’s so glad he stuck with the basketball team????

Momoharu is this close to just blocking Sora's number.

"Sora. Sora you are one of my closest friends, and you know I love you, but I am in class for f*ck's sake-"

Seriously Sora keeps calling him just to b*tch about how horrible Nao's boyfriend is and Momoharu might actually go crazy.

If Sora drags on Nao’s boyfriend on more time Tobi is going to throttle him, he's had enough.

Mokichi is hitting the limits of his patience too, and that's actually an accomplishment.

But Tobi won’t lie, he’s getting a bad vibe off that guy? He does seem kind of sleazy? And when he hesitantly points that out over lunch with Mokichi -- they meet up just to complain about Nao and Sora at least once a week now -- Mokichi agrees, with a pensive frown, that he also has a bad vibe.

He doesn’t know, Mokichi says. Maybe they’re just all protective of Nao. Tobi sighs and agrees.

Tobi is fully aware of his big brother reflex by this point, but he will never, ever admit that he has such a thing out loud.

Turns out Sora was completely right about Nao’s boyfriend, though. (Even if it was just Sora being jealous, not actually Sora being intelligent.) The guy cheats on Nao, because he's a terrible person, and Sora is this close to hunting him down and committing murder, but he doesn't know what school he goes to.

Madoka calls Tobi to give him the guy's location, and Tobi goes, "please don' tell Sora tha's a bad idea" and Madoka goes "do you think I'm insane??"

Tobi and Madoka then absolutely thrash the guy and then get coffee afterwards and bond over oh my god, our friends are so dumb, because Madoka has been putting up with Nao's rants since first year.

Eventually Sora and the rest of the team convince (the very easily convinced) Tobi to give up the idiot's location and they all take a trip to beat the crap out of him.

Madoka then joins the I Have Pining Idiot Friends support group, which consists of Tobi, Mokichi, and Momoharu.

It's actually Madoka who finally decides to break the "no interfering" pact, after hearing about the sheer extent of the bullsh*t that's been happening, the parts that Nao didn't mention to her. She calls Sora and very tiredly goes "please just ask Nao-chan out, everyone is suffering."

Sora: wHAT

Tobi, eavesdropping as they're all changing: She told ya to ask Nao out

Tobi: Or I'm goin’ to deck ya I stg -- my patience is a very much finite resource, Sora.

Mokichi, tiredly: Please don't kill our captain

Tobi, ignoring him: Sora I am dead serious. Ask her out, or I will break yer nose, consequences be damned.

Tobi is So Relieved that the pact is over. He knew he'd catch grief for it if he broke it, and the second Madoka does, his reaction is "TIME TO PHYSICALLY THREATEN SORA INTO CONFESSING! YAY!"

Tobi, no.

Madoka is wheezing somewhere in the background but is also in full support of this movement.

After a large number of threats, Sora, bright red, stutters through asking Nao out to the amusement park or something, and Nao, also bright red, screams "WHAT" and Sora goes "Uh -- God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" and goes to run.

And smacks directly into Mokichi who's like, "Uh, no, you're going nowhere. I am so done."

Tobi, internally: Oh thank God fer Kaname.

Nao, still a tomato, manages to squeak out "I'd love to!"

After Sora and Nao get through the "Really?!" "Really!" part, Tobi dramatically falls to his knees and yells "THANK F*CKING GOD, FINALLY," which, fair.

(And as Sora and Nao are stuttering through a semi-normal conversation after that, maybe Mokichi is in the background, shyly asking Tobi out for coffee without the excuse of talking about Sora and Nao, because maybe their relationship went from "I don't want people to think we're friends" to "I guess you're decent" to "we're friends" to something unnamed and fragile and delicate and maybe a little bit precious. And maybe when Tobi leans against his shoulder and Mokichi wraps an arm around his waist at practice, no one is surprised.)

It's on their third date, in a park after going to a cafe, when Nao abruptly asks, "Sora-kun, can I kiss you?"

Sora short circuits (again.) And Nao freezes up and goes, "Sorry, sorry, too soon, I'm so sorry-" and Sora freaks out and goes, "NO, NO IT'S FINE, I was just -- just surprised!"

They both calm down and take deep breaths, and then Sora steps closer and gently cups the back of her head as her eyes go wide and he asks, "is this okay?" She nods and nervously places one hand around his neck. They lean into each other and kiss softly, and it feels right.

They’re both bright red but they’re both smiling like idiots, and Sora holds her close and thinks, “Godd*mn I got lucky.” He whispers that to her, and she laughs, flustered, and says “Yeah, I did too.”

After six weeks or so of going out, Nao and Sora make it a "boyfriend/girlfriend" thing and now if Mokichi or Tobi are asked if they're dating Nao, they say that she's dating Sora; Nao blushes and shyly corrects the person if they asked about Mokichi/Tobi, or shyly confirms if it was about Sora; Sora just smiles, and confirms that he's dating Nao, blushing.

Mokichi invites Momoharu, Madoka, and Chiaki to lunch with the third years when they have a day off from practice for the sole purpose of giving Nao and Sora a hard time about their mutual pining

Tobi swears up and down that he's going to read out the most embarrassing speech at their wedding and expose them to everyone there, and Nao and Sora both turn bright red and short circuit for a solid five minutes at the mention of marriage while the others laugh at them.

At the end of the year, Nao and Sora receive a trophy from their kouhai that says "Most Disastrous Couple Ever." Tobi and Mokichi didn't stop laughing for a solid twenty minutes, and Tobi is still giving them sh*t about the trophy five years later.

They both attend university and maintain their relationship throughout. Sora proposes when they’re both 29, at the same park where they had their first kiss, on the anniversary of the day they met, because he’s sappy AF. Tobi is rolling his eyes somewhere in the background.

It’s a warm summer night. They get dinner at an expensive formal restaurant. He takes her to the park, and reminisces about the first time they went there together. It was the day Nao joined the team, he recalls. She had left after the practice game, and he had followed her. He had been so impressed by her, he tells her, and he still is. He doesn’t know how he came to deserve her, and she blushes and says she feels the same about him, that he’s just as amazing.

Sora covers her eyes and leads her to a ring of trees in the middle of the park, and uncovers them to reveal that they’re standing in a gazebo covered in flowers and fairy lights. And he smiles at her, and gets down on one knee. Nao’s hands fly to her mouth as he says, “I have been in love with you for well over ten years, and I would like to call you my family officially. Nanao Nao, my light, the love of my life, my everything, will you marry me?”

“Of course I will, you big sap!” she cries, tackling him, tears in her eyes, and kisses him. Neither of them care that they’re getting dirt on their suit and dress; the only thing that matters to either of them is each other.

They get married roughly a year after. Madoka is Nao’s maid of honor. Sora’s best man is probably Momoharu, Tobi, or Mokichi. Maybe Chiaki? I don’t know.

I almost want to make it Momoharu just because he would first completely drag Sora and Nao for their bullsh*t back in high school, grinning, and then invite Tobi up on stage to polish it off. Tobi, on the other hand, would just roast them on his own, which is probably why Sora decides not to make Tobi his best man. (“I trusted you, Momoharu-kun!” “Well that’s on you, Sora.”)

(And if Tobi catches the bouquet and gives it to Mokichi, no one’s saying anything.)

(They will, however, be saying things when Tobi gets down on one knee in the center of the dance floor an hour into the reception and says, “Given that our relationship was formed by bondin’ over these two idiots takin’ two and a half years ta get together, it only seems right that we tie tha knot because they did too. Kaname, will ya marry me?” Mokichi cries and says yes. Nao and Sora also cry. Yes, Tobi got their permission to steal their thunder beforehand. He was sorely tempted not to, just to get back at them, because yes he’s still salty about high school, but he figured he’d better ask.)

When they’re about 38, they adopt a daughter! And yes the others are her aunts and uncles.

Her name is Akari, which means light, and she is a problem child, but she's definitely not Tobi/Hanazono twins levels of problem child, and they love her anyway.

Her name is Nanao-Kurumatani Akari, because screw gender norms, says Sora. Nao’s reaction is “oh my God I love you so much.”

She was about 5 when they adopted her.

Her favorite uncle/aunt is Mokichi (absolutely no one understands why including Mokichi himself) and yes Tobi is mad.

Also Tobi adores her. Tobi sees a small child? Are you kidding me, have you seen him with his sister? Tobi seems like he'd be with horrible with kids but he loves the little sh*ts.

She plays basketball as a PF and she is so tall and yes, Sora is salty.

Scoring machine and inside player, but also learned strategy from Nao (after a terrible loss, she asked her mother to teacher her) and.... fear.jpg.

Basically, Sora and Nao are the most tooth-rotting-ly sweet, romantic, cliché in the best way, sappy, and adorable couple ever, and it’s bad for everyone’s dentist bills.

Here’s a Sora/Tobi edition (I apologize to SoraNao shippers because it’s twice as long and I didn’t even realize that for ages), because again, I have Tobi brainrot. God help me.

You can also check out my Ahiru no Sora Headcanons tag.

#ahiru no sora #ahiru no sora headcanons #headcanons #nanao nao #kurumatani sora #natsume kenji #tobi #shigeyoshi kaname #mokichi #kurumatani sora x nanao nao #soranao? naosora? soranao.#soranao #natsume kenji x shigeyoshi kaname #aka tobi x mokichi #tobimoki #me: TOBI GTFO THIS ISN'T UR POST THAT'S COMING LATER?!#tobi: what if nah

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elsaclack · 5 years ago

Text

the smell of coffee runs through my veins

or,

five times jake smells like fresh coffee grounds (and one time he doesn’t)

hi @winnietherpooh!!! so i wasn’t originally your assigned writer for the @b99fandomevents summer 2019 fic exchange, but they unfortunately had to drop out due to some unforeseen circumstances, so i stepped in!! i loved all of your ideas, but i decided to go with a jake/amy coffee shop au (with a liiiiiiiittle bit of jake/rosa friendship thrown in for good measure). it’s also the first time i’ve successfully finished a 5 times fic ahhh!!! i hope you like it!!!

He smells like fresh coffee grounds.

She isn’t sure what to do with that, at first. She just honestly wasn’t that into coffee. It always played the role of a last-resource fuel to keep her awake when all else failed - never something to be independently enjoyed in an otherwise leisurely setting.

It makes sense, then, that she falls in love with a man who loves coffee.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds on the morning she meets him, looking haggard and disheveled at five in the morning, the stains on his flannel shirt just visible in the early morning light. Shattered glass litters the sidewalk just outside of his coffee shop’s door, catching the flickering street lights above them like urban diamonds forgotten in the rough. There’s another man, a shorter, older-looking man, pacing back and forth in the street just beyond the curb, looking more like a worried first-time father outside of a delivery room than a man whose place of business was robbed overnight.

Rosa is busy examining the busted windowpane in the door, so Amy turns to the shop-owner - whose stained flannel shirt smells like fresh coffee grounds despite him not even entering the store yet that morning.

“My name is Detective Santiago, and I’ll be the lead detective on this case.”

He shakes her hand and manages to flash a smile - albeit a shaky one. “I’m Jake,” he says, “Jake Peralta.”

His hand is warm, and when she pulls her hand back to her side, the faintest scent of coffee grounds wafts toward her.

It’s a B&E - security cameras from the flower shop across the alley caught images of three perps hauling off through the back door with armfuls of merchandise and a particularly heavy-looking espresso machine - and within four hours Amy and Rosa are cuffing all three and calling in assistance to recover the merchandise from an apartment in the Bronx. The espresso machine is toast - apparently they dropped it three times in their attempt to escape unseen - but other than the general stench of cigarettes clinging to the merchandise, everything else is relatively unscathed.

The open sign hanging in the shop window is turned off, the front door is locked, but Amy manages to spot Jake through the window inside the shop as she approaches. He darts to the door immediately to let her in, looking anxious and hopeful in a way that makes her stomach bottom out despite her best efforts to remain unaffected. He up and hugs her when she tells him they solved it - and it’s like the scent of fine Colombian coffee has come to life and enveloped her fully.

(She wonders, briefly, if this is the kind of sensation Manny gets when he talks about food being so good that it’s all-consuming.)

“Do you like coffee?” he asks once they’ve parted.

“I love it,” she hears herself say.

His grin is brilliant, nearly blinding, and he trips over his own shoelaces as he quickly backs away from her. “Great,” he says as he rounds the far end of the front counter. “This one’s on the house. In fact, all of ‘em are. Forever.”

“Oh - you’re very generous, but I can’t accept -”

“Sure, you can,” he interrupts loudly. “Your money’s no good here, detective.”

She stares for a beat, biting the inside of her cheek to tamp down her smile. “It’s, uh, Amy,” she finally says - and some of the frenetic energy that overtook him moments earlier seems to dissipate, if only slightly.

“Amy,” he repeats, voice low and warm in a way that sends a thrill down her spine.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds every morning she returns - which is often, for a person who doesn’t drink coffee. The windowpane is replaced after a few days and the shop is reopened for business, and every morning she stops by on her way to work, he greets her loudly by name and introduces her to every other customer in the shop as the detective who saved the store.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t save the espresso machine,” she says on the fourth morning, pointing up to the chalk-written menu hanging behind the counter - at the COMING SOON written over the line that advertised espressos before.

“It’s fine, it’s why I’ve got insurance,” he shrugs. “New machine should be here by Thursday of next week, which means we’ll have it up and running for the Friday morning rush. Here, try this one - I added a couple of shots of cinnamon. I think you’re gonna really like it.”

(She does.)

Charles, Jake’s cook, takes a shining to Amy right away - in addition to the free coffee, she often finds herself juggling several pastry bags on her walk to her car. Some are certainly better than others; while Jake seems to be learning about what Amy likes and dislikes and customizing her drink accordingly, Charles tends to be a far more adventurous eater and seizes any opportunity to expand Amy’s palate.

“It’s a poppy seed bagel with a wasabi-infused cream cheese, drizzled with a caramelized citrus simple syrup,” he tells her proudly one morning while loading the bagel into a pastry bag. He’s pressed up against the edge of the counter, leaning toward Amy as he speaks; it’s how he misses Jake’s exaggerated gag from by the register, earning a nervous laugh from Amy. “I know the flavors don’t sound like they’ll go together, but trust me, it’s delicious. You’ll love it.”

(She doesn’t.)

“You can tell him you hate it, y’know,” Jake tells her after Charles walks away.

She shoots him a look as she straightens her blazer. “I don’t wanna break his heart,” she sighs, and he nods in understanding. “Besides, not everything he gives me is inedible. I like poppy seed bagels. And the citrus stuff actually sounded kind of good -”

“It’s really adorable that you’re trying to be gentle with him, but I hired him to make, like, blueberry scones and chocolate chip muffins. Stuff that normal people want to eat when they go to a coffee shop. If you don’t nip this in the bud, he’s gonna want to try to sell that stuff again and I’m not about to have that fight for the fourth time -”

“Alright, alright,” she interrupts, briefly raising both hands in defeat before snatching her briefcase, the pastry bag, and the to-go cup of coffee from the counter. “I’ll tell him the next time I’m in.”

“So, tomorrow,” Jake says.

Heat drips from the tips of her ears, but there is no judgement or derision in his expression - just expectancy, as if her presence is a given. “Actually, it’s - tomorrow is, um, my day off,” she stammers, “so I don’t know if -”

“Oh.” She’s fairly certain there’s disappointment in his voice - his shoulders definitely dropped, his gaze definitely lowered to the countertop between them. “Sorry, that was presumptuous -”

“No, no, it’s - I mean, I’ve been in here every other morning this week, so -”

“Well, uh, hey, have a good day off -”

“I might still -”

“You don’t have to -”

“I’ll be here.”

He pauses, a crease appearing between his brows. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be here,” she repeats, “but maybe not ‘til after the morning rush.”

He smiles, the dimples in his cheek flashing. “I’ll see you then,” he says with a two-fingered salute.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds at the end of the day, battle-worn and weary but smiling and groaning in all the right places as she recounts her harrowing arrest of a man with a bag of human ears on the subway earlier that day. The hysteria of it all had taken up most of her day - she was only able to break away from paperwork at eight o’clock this evening, putting her on the coffee shop’s front stoop at precisely nine-oh-three, three minutes after closing.

Which of course didn’t stop Jake from holding the door open for her as he insisted she come inside. It turns out he had quite the day as well - his afternoon barista called in sick, leaving him with a sixteen-hour workday she unwittingly extended. “Stop apologizing,” he tells her as he passes her a mug full of steaming decaf coffee. “This isn’t work.”

His eyes are bloodshot and his eyelids seem to stick together every time he blinks, but he’s awake, he’s invested in her story, and there’s something a little different about the way he smells tonight - like the fresh coffee ground scent infused in his very atoms has blended with something spicier, something tangier. He’s slouching in his seat, legs splayed out wildly beneath the table, and even with one leg bouncing he’s practically emanating exhaustion.

“I should go,” Amy says for the third time. “You’re practically falling asleep over there.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, voice quiet and worn. “I think I have some stuff here to help me stay awake.”

She laughs, and he grins, eyes twinkling in the low light. “You’ve had a really long day, Jake.”

“So have you,” he reminds her, tone taking on the faintest edge of a disgruntled toddler refusing to nap. “You don’t see me trying to kick you out.”

“I don’t have to be at work at five in the morning,” she reminds him, and he rolls his eyes, a strangled grunt escaping his throat. “You really, really should go get some sleep.”

“I don’t wanna,” he mumbles, crossing his arms a little tighter over his chest. “This’s been the best part of my day. I don’t want it to end.”

“I’m the best part of your day?” she asks skeptically, ignoring the now-familiar thrill in the pit of her stomach to focus on the blush igniting in his cheeks. “I didn’t know you loved me so much, Peralta.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, “I had a bunch of, like, snooty soccer moms come in and bitch me out because I didn’t make their mocha chai lattes with extra whip and extra sprinkles at the exact right temperature, and then they all blasted the shop with one-star reviews on Yelp,” he leans forward to bury his face in his hands. “And then Daisy called out sick, and Charles tried to crucify me over some oregano or something. Today sucked, and you’re, like, super nice, and I like talking to you because you don’t yell at me about coffee or oregano.”

It’s quiet for a beat - and then Amy finds herself leaning forward, her fingers closing over his left forearm. His skin his just as warm as she remembers; his eyes liquid and piercing as he peers at her through his fingers. “I’m sorry today sucked,” she murmurs sincerely. “D’you want me to track all of those soccer moms down and arrest them for disorderly conduct?”

He snorts and drops his hands to the table, and she quickly retracts her hand. “Maybe,” he says with a pseudo-thoughtful nod. He studies her face for a moment, his gaze darting over her face as she pulls a long drink from her coffee. “Thanks, Ames,” he says softy.

It’s quiet enough that she almost misses it, but he holds her gaze when she meets his eyes. “For what?” she asks.

He shrugs. “Being you. You just - you always know what to say.”

“Well that’s definitely not true, but - you’re welcome.”

He hugs her right outside the coffee shop, and she hugs him back - he’s warm and soft in that unique half-asleep way, and she curls her fingers into the loose folds of his flannel shirt, fighting back the urge to squeeze him to her as hard as she can. He’s slow to pull away, slow to retreat; it’s not until he’s a good ten feet away that he finally raises his hand in farewell, nearly tripping over a stray cafe table from the bistro next door to the shop before turning his back and walking away in earnest.

She can still smell that spicy, tangy something wafting off of her blazer when she gets home.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds when Amy finally convinces Rosa to come back to the coffee shop with her - a good four months after the case officially ended. By then Jake’s perfected Amy’s entirely unique order and has had it added to the menu; The Santiago Special now graces the bottom of the left hand side of the chalkboard, written in Daisy’s perfect looping scrawl.

“Detective Diaz!” Jake leans across the counter to shake Rosa’s hand as they approach, looking every bit as thrilled as Amy hoped he would be. “Welcome back! It’s good to see you again, how have you been?”

“Fine.” Rosa grunts, already scanning the menu over Jake’s head. “What d’you recommend?”

“Well, what do you like?”

“Coffee.”

It’s silent for a beat - and then Jake seems to realize she won’t be expanding any further. “I can respect that.” he says, casting beneath the counter for the already-opened bags of coffee grounds they keep stored there. “Sweet or savory?”

She ponders it a moment, lips pursing slightly. “Sweet.” she finally says.

“You got it. Regular for you, Ames?”

“Obviously.”

He flashes her a grin over the countertop before setting about working, and Rosa leans against the edge of the counter, seemingly taking in the rest of the shop. “It’s nice,” she finally says as she returns her attention to Amy’s face. “I can see why you like it so much. Is all of this artwork local?”

“The paintings are,” Jake confirms as he measures out coffee grounds. “The photography isn’t. A lot of those are stock photos that came with the frames - I just needed to fill empty space when I first moved in here, but I didn’t have the budget for legitimate photography. I’ve been meaning to take them down, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“There’s a farmer’s market not too far from here that sometimes has a photographer selling in a booth,” says Rosa. “She’s pretty good. You should check her out.”

“You go to a farmer’s market?” Amy asks incredulously.

Jake snorts as Rosa rolls her eyes. “I’ll definitely check her out. Are there any painters there? Like, murialists, I should say?”

Rosa frowns thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” she says. “I mean I’ve seen some people selling paintings, but I’ve never stopped and asked. I usually go for the fruit, the locally sourced honey, and the pottery.”

“You’re into pottery?”

“No.”

Jake pauses, a peculiar grin on his face. “Aren’t you partners? Shouldn’t you guys know, like, everything about each other? Or did the cop movies lie to me about that, too?”

“Well up until about sixty seconds ago, I thought we did know everything about each other,” Amy sniffs. Slowly, Rosa shakes her head, eyes never leaving the corner of the menu board. “Is your name even Rosa?”

Rosa turns her head, holding Amy’s gaze. “No. It’s Emily Goldfinch.”

“Oh, ha-ha, very funny.”

“I’m not kidding.” Before Amy can get another word in, Rosa returns her attention to Jake. “Are you thinking of putting a mural on that wall?”

“Yeah, but I really want to find a local artist who won’t charge out the ass for it, y’know?”

“Amy paints.”

“Wha- I don’t - I mean -”

Amy splutters as they both turn to look at her. “You paint?” Jake asks, the corners of his lips quirked upwards.

“I mean I - I sort of - I’m not that good -”

“She’s excellent,” Rosa interrupts, “I’ve seen some of her stuff. I think it would fit in with the vibe you’ve got going in here.”

“Well, I’d probably pay out the ass for you to paint a mural in here,” Jake says, abandoning the coffee grounds to plant both hands on the counter. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course, but I’d love to talk to you about it.”

“Um - I mean -”

“Take some time to think about it,” he says, moving to resume making their coffees. “I’ll ask again later.”

Amy’s still staring when Jake slides their cups across the counter - on Amy’s sleeve, he’s written Ames, and on Rosa’s, he’s written Emily??

“I like him.” Rosa says once they’re back in Amy’s car. “He’s funny. You should paint the mural.”

“I don’t know if I’m good enough to paint an entire mural,” she mutters, tucking her cup into her cupholder and starting the car.

“You won’t ever know until you try. And I think that this is the place where you should really try.”

There’s something significant to Rosa’s tone, something meaningful in the slant of her head and the angle of her brows, but there’s traffic coming, and they’re three minutes late coming back from their break, so Amy just heaves a sigh as she pulls out of her parking spot.

He smells like fresh coffee grounds when he hands her a shirt with the shop’s logo on it - a simple, minimalist drawing of a coffee mug on a plate in side profile, thin white lines against dark blue material - and he’s grinning like a fool when she pulls it on over her ratty painting clothes.

“You’re officially on payroll,” he declares, dragging a table backward to make more room. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank god, I was really struggling to make ends meet.”

He laughs outright at that, pausing halfway through dragging two chairs away. “Please,” he says once he’s recovered, “you probably have, like, eight savings accounts.”

“I have one, thank you very much.”

He’s still chortling as he drags the last table away - leaving an empty stretch of wall sprawled before her, a slate-grey canvas that stretches from floor to ceiling. She’s got sketches taped around the outer edges of her work space and a respectable collection of paints and brushes clustered together on the floor to her left; from the corner of her eye she sees Jake draw even with her to her right as she studies the space, staring at the wall as well. “It’s gonna look great,” he assures her.

“I just feel bad that you have to be closed for two full days.” she says as she turns toward him. “That’s a lot of money you’re losing out on.”

“I’d rather miss out on two days of business and have an incredible piece of artwork done by an incredible person than be open for one more day with lame stock photos on the wall.” he says earnestly, and the tips of her ears burn. “This is gonna bring more people in, Ames. We’ll make our money back in a week.”

“What if the painting sucks?”

“We paint over it with the stuff I have in storage and you start over.”

“That’s another day wasted, though.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t have to deal with any annoying Brooklyn hipsters and I get to hang out with you. That’s not what I’d call a wasted day.”

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too broadly as she turns back toward the wall. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” she reminds him, voice small.

He touches her shoulder, fingers curving over the upper ridge and squeezing as his thumb sweeps down her arm several times. “It’s gonna look great.” he says again. “I’m really, really excited.”

He retreats to a chair dragged to the opposite wall and sits, and Amy inhales deeply, praying he can’t read her nerves despite her shaking hands. It’s a painting, Amy, she reminds herself. Relax.

The first touch of paint to the wall is agonizing, but a split-second later she’s liberated; Jake kicks on music over the shop’s speakers from his phone and she’s back in the groove, like she never left her last college painting class. She pauses only occasionally over the next several hours - for bathroom breaks and lunch and once, briefly, when paint dripped into her coffee - and by the end of the day she’s studying a nearly-completed mural, taking notes on her sketch for areas that need touch-ups when she comes back tomorrow.

“Okay,” Amy says, folding her sketch and tucking it into her pocket with one hand while tucking her pencil behind her ear with the other. “It’s not all-the-way done yet, but it’s mostly done. I just need to do a couple of touch-ups in some spots once the paint is dry, but that’ll take less than an hour tomorrow. What do you think?”

Jake’s silent, an unreadable expression on his face, when Amy turns toward him. He seems almost winded as he slowly stands; his eyes follow each line of the mural, sweeping up and over and down and up again. It’s pretty abstract, considering her penchant for still-lifes, more of an explosion of muted pastels in sharp geometric shapes that fade back into the grey of the wall along the outermost edges. “I love it,” he breathes.

There isn’t a single modicum of insincerity about him, so she tamps down a smile and turns back toward the mural. “I wanted it to feel like Brooklyn, and like the shop itself, which is why it’s kind of modern-looking and has a lot of sharp edges and clean lines, but...I also wanted it to feel the way that I feel when I’m here. Which is why I used pastels.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees him draw up even with her; he’s no longer looking at the mural. “What’s important about pastels?” he murmurs.

“Well, they’re - they’re soft. Cool, but not cold - they’re refreshing, like an oasis. It’s like an unexpected bright spot in the midst of a lot of sameness. They’re sweet, and calming, and - and I just - I really, really, really like them.”

She can’t bring herself to look him in the eye, but she can hear his sharp intake of breath. Tension radiates off of him in waves, and it’s suddenly near-impossible to draw a breath. “I love it,” he repeats, softer than before, and the too-familiar thrill bottoming out in her belly feels like the opening of a bottomless cavern and the smell of coffee grounds grows stronger as he leans closer -

A sharp knock on the window behind her has them both jumping backwards - an unfamiliar face is pressed against the glass, peering inside. “Are you open?” she asks as she jiggles the locked doorknob.

“No.” Jake says back loudly, stepping around Amy to point to the darkened open sign. Amy watches him go, one hand over her heart, the other pressed to her suddenly burning cheek. “We’re not open again until day after tomorrow.”

“Can I get a coffee to go, then?”

“What? No, we’re closed. We’re not making coffee today.”

“There are two of you in there, why can’t one of you make me a coffee?”

“Because we’re closed and we don’t have any coffee to make today. Come back on Tuesday and we’ll have some for you.”

“This is ridiculous, I thought this place was supposed to have good service!”

“It does. When it’s open.”

The would-be customer rolls her eyes and storms off, shouting obscenities and promises to drink only Starbucks moving forward as she goes, and Jake watches her go with his hands on his hips. “There goes another one-star review. You see what I deal with every day?” he mutters as he turns back to Amy.

“Well, at least your place has a reputation for good service,” she tries.

“Oh, you and your silver linings,” he says with an affectionate smile.

The heat still burning in the tips of her ears has spilled down to her cheeks now; slowly, eyes never leaving his face, she steps backwards. “I should - I should let you go -”

“Right, yeah, it’s nine,” he murmurs, glancing at the clock above the front door to confirm. “I’ll, uh, walk you to your car?”

“You’re parked way further away, I should be offering to walk you to your car.”

They both laugh, Amy’s filtered with nerves, and in the dim lighting she can see his throat moving as he swallows. “Maybe - maybe I could walk you to your car, and then you can give me a ride to mine?”

“That’s fair,” she concedes with a nod.

They’re in the front seat of her car ten minutes later, parked behind his beat up old Mustang four blocks away from the shop. He’s in the midst of recounting an exchange not unlike the one they just had with another customer, imitating a high-pitched Long Island accent perfectly with a comically distorted face, a smile twitching across his face with each new peal of laughter from Amy. The tension from earlier has not dissipated, but she finds she doesn’t mind it here - not with him sitting so close, smelling so good, smiling at her like that.

“It’s late,” he finally sighs, patting his palms against his thighs.

It’s not, not really. She’s off tomorrow. “A little,” she murmurs, hoping her reluctance to leave isn’t as evident in her voice as it feels.

He smiles, warm and affectionate, and lets his head fall back against the seat. “The mural is really beautiful,” he says softly. “I can’t wait to see it again tomorrow.”

It’s hard to tell with what limited light is spilling into the cab of her car, but she’s fairly certain he’s looking at her lips; she swallows thickly, and his eyes dart back up to meet hers. “Me either,” she whispers.

She’s not sure if it’s him, or her, or the gravitational pull tugging at her very heart, but the next thing she knows is his lips on hers and his fingers in her hair. He tastes like cocoa and indulgence, like every sweet thing in her life; he sighs against her and shifts closer, and the familiar scent of fresh coffee grounds envelopes her every sense.

He smells like soap, like clean earth, like fresh rain falling on grass and trees, like something spicy and tangy. He’s awake when she opens her eyes - he’s been watching her sleep, she realizes with a touch of embarrassment.

The look of awe-struck wonder in his eyes doesn’t allow the embarrassment to last for long.

“Hi,” he murmurs as she shifts her head on her pillow to look at him more directly.

She laughs and he flushes pink, head dropping down just far enough that the still-damp curls at his hairline brush against her arm. She bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep from reaching out to touch his hair - before realizing that she can do that now, probably.

So she does.

He lifts his head just slightly the moment she cards her fingers through, and his expression is so soft and so affectionate she’s certain her knees would have given out from under her were she standing. “You smell different,” she whispers.

“Different...bad different?”

“No, good. But different. You usually smell like coffee.”

“Well, I typically try not to bathe in it,” he mutters, and his fingers gently close over her elbow bent up against the mattress. “But it’s hard not to smell like coffee all the time when you own a coffee shop.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” she says, grinning as she ruffles his hair. “I’ve actually always loved the way coffee smelled, even if the taste is kind of so-so.”

He furrows his brow, and a split-second later she feels her stomach bottom out. “The taste is kind of so-so?” he repeats, and she retracts her hand to pull his comforter up over her head. “Amy, do you not like coffee?”

There’s laughter in his voice and the mattress beneath them is quaking, and she lets out a groan she’s sure is comically muffled on the other side of the comforter. “I’m - it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just - before we met, I never really - I mean I did, but only when I was, like, on the verge of passing out asleep at work - I just never really -”

“You said - on the day we met - that you love coffee.”

She flips the comforter down with enough force to bounce them both slightly, earning another volley of giggles from Jake. “Well, I do now!” she half-shouts.

“But you didn’t then?”

“What was I supposed to do? You were really cute and you were being so sweet and I had no idea we’d - that you and I would -”

“Oh, my god, you are so cute when you’re all flustered,” he interrupts, lightly poking her upper arm before curling his fingers around her bicep in earnest. “I’m really glad you lied about liking coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, but can’t fight back the smile spreading across her face. “Me, too. Even though I have a feeling I’ll never live it down.”

“You definitely won’t.”

He leans down before she can retort, and his lips are as soft and warm as they were the night before. His kiss is warm and sweet, thorough and electric, and before long she forgets her embarrassment and instead focuses only on the way his hair feels thick and soft between her fingers.

She’s practically panting by the time he pulls away, her eyelids fluttering open to find him looking down at her with an undeniably satisfied expression on his face, his kiss-bruised lips parted as his own chest heaves. “So glad you lied,” he murmurs before leaning down to quickly nip at her chin.

“I need to take a shower before we go back to the shop,” she says as he rolls out of bed and arches his back. “Do you mind if I use your stuff?”

“Do I mind if you smell like me for the rest of the day? Uh, no,” he winks cheekily as she rolls her eyes. “Towels are in the cabinet to the right of the toilet. I’m gonna make a breakfast run while you’re in there - muffins okay?”

“As long as Charles didn’t make them.”

He laughs as he tugs his shirt on, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get within a city block of them,” he assures her as she sits up in bed. “Can I get you something other than coffee to drink? Like maybe tea or apple juice?”

Despite his obvious joking tone, she senses the note of sincerity beneath the question - like if she really wanted something other than coffee, he’d take no personal offense. And it’s like all of a sudden, every insecurity of his is laid out bare before her - and she knows he’s not only asking about coffee. “I want coffee,” she assures him, pouring every ounce of conviction into the words. “I’ve been wanting coffee for a long time now.”

He smiles, small and shy, and steps toward the bed to kiss her soundly once more. “You’ve only been up for five minutes,” he murmurs against her lips.

She smacks his shoulders and he laughs, recoiling backwards. “Go get breakfast and I’ll shower and then we can go straight to the shop to finish this mural up. I want to be done before ten.”

“You have other plans today?”

“Yeah, I’m spending the whole day with you, and I’d rather not fight self-entitled hipsters through the shop windows.”

“Fair enough!” he shouts through a broad grin, yanking his jeans up his legs and bounding out the bedroom door. “I’ll be right back!”

It isn’t until well after the front door has slammed shut, after the water has begun pouring out of his showerhead and the steam has enveloped her body, that the scent wafting off of her own skin reaches her consciousness -

She smells like fresh coffee grounds.

#b99 summer 2019 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #my b99 fics #b99 #jake x amy #winnietherpooh #peraltiago #peraltiago fanfiction

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benreillyscarletspider · 5 years ago

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Candy Coated Fury lyric starters

Everyone Else is an Asshole

“I tried to be nice, I tried to live my life, but everyone else is an asshole.”

“Everybody else thinks of no one but themselves.”

“Every friendly chat is a knife in the back or a sneaky attack waiting to happen.”

“They called it assault, but it really wasn’t my fault.”

Punisher

“Calling you a stalker is a little harsh, but that’s almost what you are.”

“You’re unbearable; you are terrible!”

“No one even likes you, can’t you get that through your skull?”

“You’re pushy, and I’ve been pushed around too much.”

“It’s amazing how annoying you are.”

“Calling you a stalker is a little harsh, but that’s exactly what you are.”

She’s Not the End of the World

“Punch me in the face.”

“She’s not the end of the world.”

“Slit my throat if you’re really my friend.”

“What if I drink myself ‘til I die?”

“I guess it’s something in her eyes, like Armageddon coming with the red sunrise.”

“She’s got an apocalyptic kiss.”

Don’t Let Me Down Gently

“Don’t let me down gently if you have to let me down at all.”

“I don’t know your face that well.”

“I’m talkin’ to myself again and you’re talkin’ to the wall.”

“It would be great to die together on the first day of the year.”

“I don’t think of you"

“Do you think of me?”

“How can I explain the pleasure and the pain?”

I Know You Too Well to Like You Anymore

“I know you too well to like you anymore.”

“There’s a nightmare where my dream girl was.”

“My Prince Charming is a bore.”

“In the beginning, we always were grinning; we didn’t even know what we were smiling for.”

“Now I feel sick when I’m around you.”

“I’m stuck with someone I can’t stand.”

“I can’t stand you even more.”

“You’ve got me on such a tight leash that I’m starting to strangle myself.”

“I know that I’ll never be what you want me to be.”

“Your kiss is like razor blades.”

“I don’t like you, but I love you.”

“Please stay. No one makes me more miserable, so please don’t go away.”

“I’ll never be able to forget you.”

“I wish that I had never met you.”

“How did this all get so ugly?”

“You’re always coiled back, ready to attack: your lips curled over your vampire fangs.”

“They say be careful what you wish for, it just might come your way.”

“Of all my worst mistakes, this one is here to stay.”

“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”

“You make me fuckin’ sick.”

“I’m so sick of your shit.”

“I wish you’d go to Hell, but I love you.”

Hiding in my Headphones

“I’m hidin’ in my headphones.”

“Gonna drown this whole world out.”

“Get out of my way, cuz I don’t care what you have to say.”

“I don’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s too early to have an attitude.”

“This finger’s for you.”

“People in the city look so intense.”

“I can see them talking but they make no sense.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealin’ with.”

I Dare You to Break my Heart

“I feel it comin’ on.”

“I know there’s something wrong.”

“I don’t even know you yet, but I know what you wanna do to me.”

“Could this be the start of another long, long, hateful love affair?”

“I just cannot allow anyone else inside my head.”

“I have cried as much as I can cry.”

“I have bled as much as I can bleed.”

“No one can hurt me anymore.”

“I dare you to break my heart.”

“C’mon and give it your best shot, baby.”

“It’s gonna take more than you got.”

“I’ve been workin’ all this time just getting it hard for you.”

“I dare you.”

“I think you’re great.”

“Maybe we should date.”

“We could go out drinkin’, have ourselves a beer, and stay out late.”

“I’ve got a heart of stone covered by brick and bone.”

“Don’t try to tame me now.”

“You’ll never slow me down.”

“The harder that you try, the harder you fail.”

“The river that you cry is where I’m gonna set sail.”

“When all is said and done, and we have had our fun, you won’t have your chains on.”

“Did you think someone like you could make someone like me love you anyway?”

“The most important thing that I have ever learned is: if you’re not doin’ the hurtin’, you’re the one who’s gettin’ hurt.”

“Go ahead and try to break my heart.”

Your Girlfriend Sucks

“Are you really gonna let that girl come between you and me?”

“She’s a hater, a manipulator, a crazy psycho life invader.”

“Nobody likes your girlfriend.”

“She’s a beast from Hell, man.”

“This vampire has her fangs in you.”

“It won’t be long until your soul is sucked out.”

“She doesn’t like us, obviously.”

“Your girlfriend sucks.”

Famous Last Words

“Nothin’ on the radio again.”

“I don’t know why I even try.”

“I’m not gonna make it.”

“I don’t think I can take it.”

“I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead.”

“I swore I’d never make the same mistakes, but now I’m makin’ different ones.”

“I can seem to ever get things right.”

“It just feels like I’m goin’ ‘round in circles.”

“It’s too late. It’s too late.”

Lost Cause

“Last time you checked, I was a nervous wreck.”

“Not even here in spirit, but all the memories still haunt me.”

“I think about the good times we could’ve had.”

“I wanna get angry, but it’s just to sad.”

“We’re a lost cause.”

“You’re giving up on me?”

“Do you really think I’m not worth all the trouble that I’ve been causin’?”

“Do you really think it’s a lost cause?”

“You and me.”

“We’re no longer on the same page; we’re not even in the same book.”

“Is it too late to be worth the wait?”

“Have we run out of time?”

“It’s not my fault, but I’ll take the blame.”

“I wanna go back and change everything.”

“If it was all different, would you feel the same?”

“If this is how it ends, well, then that’s a shame.”

“I drove you crazy and you drove me insane.”

“We found a new meaning of hurt and pain.”

“We have beat this love to death.”

“We’re both murderers, I guess.”

I Love/You Suck

“I knew when I met you that you were crazed.”

“I’d never forget you.”

“I’ve seen them come and I’ve seen them go as fast.”

“I wanna let you go.”

“I gotta let you go.”

“Why can’t I just get over you?”

“You hurt me so bad.”

“I try so hard but I can’t give it up.”

“I love you so much but I think you suck.”

“I gotta say, I never thought things would be such a mess.”

“Things always change, but this time they changed too much, I guess.”

“I know the truth, even though I lied to myself so well.”

“This was such a good, good thing, but you took it and you made it Hell.”

“I know you don’t care for me.”

“I know you’re not there for me.”

“You drive me insane.”

“I know I gotta get over you.”

“I try and I try but it’s just no use.”

“Now what am I supposed to do?”

“I think you suck.”

P.S. I Hate You

“You’re evil and vicious and cruel and cold.”

“P.S. I hate you.”

“I’m finally leavin’ you today.”

“If you think I’ll ever come back...”

“I’ve got just one more thing to say.”

“You beat me up mentally.”

“You killed my dreams, metaphorically.”

“You broke my spirit quite literally.”

“Well, it’s all your fault, so remember that.”

“You stole my heart, but now I’m takin’ it back.”

“The joke is on you, baby.”

“You’re just a psycho-crazy.”

“And now you’re on your own.”

“You always wanted to control me.”

“I’m so tired of bein’ your prisoner.”

“I’m finally makin’ my escape.”

“Dear evil bitch I wasted my life with...”

“I’m on my way to start a new life.”

“I’ve got just one last thing to say...”

The Promise

“If you need a friend, don’t look to a stranger.”

“You know, in the end, I’ll always be there.”

“I’m sorry, but I was just thinkin’ of the right words to say.”

“If you wait around awhile, I’ll make you fall for me.”

“I promise.”

“I promise you.”

“These words just come out with no grudge to bear.”

“If I had to walk the world, I’d make you fall for me.”

#memes #rp memes #starters #starter sentences #okay to reblog #long post

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abysswhiskey11 · 6 years ago

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Fallin’ For You. [Jim Kirk x Reader]

Pairing: Jim Kirk x Reader.

Summary: Jim and you were high-school sweethearts. You two went through it all together. His rebellious phase, life’s ups and downs at the time. But, one day, you abruptly left. Leaving Jim. What happens when the two of you meet years later? Will you both stay or will you both leave?

Warning: Maybe, language? Does s*** count? angst, but fluff too!

A/N: The fic’s based on a song, called Fallin’ For You by Colbie Caillat! Also, i haven’t edited it so, i’m sorry for any errors in advance!

I don't know

But I think I may be fallin' for you

Dropping so quickly

Maybe I should keep this to myself

Waiting 'til I know you better

You and Jim had met in highschool. It was just as cheesy as anyone would imagine. Sweet, first love.

You had walked in just in time for your first day. Swearing, you climbed off of your motorcycle. Rushing in, you bumped into someone and fell flat on your rear.

“Whoa, there. You okay?”

Your breath hitched the moment you eyes connected with his gorgeous blue ones. They were full of concern and curiosity. That’s when you noticed his extended hand.

You took his hand, got up, dusted yourself and spoke, “Yeah, sorry, i’m almost late. It’s the first day.”

Jim’s heart was thundering, as he took in your beauty.

He shrugged, “I’m always late.”

You chuckled, “Let’s try not to add another one to streak then, shall we?”

I am trying, not to tell you

But I want to,

I'm scared of what you'll say

And so I'm hiding what I'm feeling

But I'm tired of holding this inside my head

You sighed at the state of Jim as he opened the door. He just rolled in eyes and let you in. You gently touched his face, tilting it to see the cuts.

You mumbled, “Please, let me patch you up.”

He softly swatted your hand away, “Why are you here, Y/N. Just go.”

Your lip twitched, “For you.”

“Oh, not on behalf of your father?”

“I can’t help that my dad’s the Police Chief. Come on, those look bad.”

He reluctantly nodded, “Under the sink.”

You fetched the supplies and started dabbing at the wounds.

“Won’t you ask me why I did it? Why I do it?”

You just shook you head and started bandaging the cuts. You felt him stop you. Looking into his bright blue eyes, you felt your heart break for Jim. All you could see was pain, anger and...fear.

“I always get in trouble with the law, Y/N. You’re telling me you don’t wanna know why?”

You smiled sadly, “No. All I care about is you.”

Jim’s lips came crashing down on yours. He could feel you reassuring him, it just made him want more.

I've been spending all my time

Just thinking about ya

I don't know what to do

I think I'm fallin' for you

I've been waiting all my life

And now I found ya

I don't know what to do

I think I'm fallin' for you

I'm fallin' for you

You pulled up to the school and pulled your key out of the ignition. You looked around and spotted him. His messy blonde hair was hard to miss. Jim was joking around with his tight knit group of friends, smirking and laughing once in a while. He must have felt your gaze on him, as he turned around to see you. You would never forget the way his face lit up. And Jim would never forget the smile growing in your face.

You held up the coffee cups as he made his way to you. His lip twitched up, as he took it from you.

“Thank you, starlight.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, astronaut.”

You spent the few minutes you had talking, laughing and flirting. It had been 2 years since you both became official. Time had gone so fast, yet you remembered every small detail.

You gasped, “Penguins deserve the world! They are sweetest, cutest and the most badass when provoked!”

Jim laughed, “You just described yourself!” But soon, his eyes went wide, “Okay, okay, but have you seen Flamingos? I mean, they have so much to unbox! Their neck, their legs, their absolutely ridiculous colour!”

Nodding, you put a finger to you chin, “The only thing these two have in common is-!” And, you faltered, “....Oh my god, they have nothing in common.”

Jim and you burst laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe. Jim snorted, which made you laugh even more. As things, calmed down, you wrapped your hands around his neck. Jim’s snaked around your waist. Yet, you could see him holding back his laughter.

“I love you, Y/N. You really are my starlight.”

“I love you too, Jim. Happy 2 year anniversary.”

As I'm standing here

And you hold my hand

Pull me towards you

And we start to dance

All around us

I see nobody

The tears were flowing freely on your face. You clenched you jaw, willing them to stop but they never did. You let out a strangled cry. You knew you couldn’t ride like this and shakily pulled up. The minute you got off, you collapsed to your knees. Your head pounded, and you heart felt like it had been ripped out. Full of guilt, you took deep breaths, trying your best to compose yourself. Your phone ringed.

“Hey, Dad. Yeah, I’m out of town. I’m reaching the airport in 5. Yeah, yeah, i’m fine.”

Meanwhile, Jim raised his hand to knock on your door. But then, the huge padlock caught his eyes. His breath halted. Shaking, he ghosted his fingers above it. He ran to your neighbour, banging on the door. An old lady, opened the door, smiling sweetly at Kirk. Her smile fell when she saw him clench his jaw, clearly holding back tears.

“The Y/L/Ns. There’s a-a padlock on their door. Whe-Where did they- Y/N- What..?”

She smiled sadly, “You must be the Jim Y/N talked about. Sweetie, they just moved away. Like 30 minutes ago, they packed their bags and went off to the airport. Didn’t say the reason.”

Jim knew he was hyperventilating by now. He just couldn’t understand it. He could register the old lady reach for something behind the door.

“She asked me to give these to you.”

He looked down and felt his heart breaking more. If that was possible. He slowly plucked the photographs of the two of you from her hands. She smiled sadly at him and said something but, all Jim could focus on was you. You had left.

He walked away briskly, running a hand through his lock. He just didn’t make it far before he let out a strangled scream. He took out his anger on the printed memories of you two. Tearing, and ripping. But then, his emotions hit him like a train. He loved you, and you were gone, just like any other person in his life.

Here in silence

It's just you and me

I am trying not to tell you

But I want to

You rested your head against the window, staring at the clouds outside. Your mind was a mess. Just like your heart. You clenched your fists, and shut your eyes tightly, as memories flooded you. The first time you two said the three words.

“You are the last person I expected a lecture from!”

“This isn’t a lecture, Jim! I’m just trying to help.”

He yelled again, “That’s what everyone says! You’re just trying to fix me when I’m not even broken!”

You pleaded, reaching out for him, “I’m not, Jim! I just want you to follow what your heart wants! And I know you well enough to know this isn’t it.”

He scoffed, “You do not know me! I know you’re tired of all this you have to put up with! So why don’t you just leave!”

“I won’t leave because I love you!” Your voice soon turned into a whisper, “I love you, and I’m fighting for you! For us! So please, Jim, fight for yourself, too...”

You sniffed, shaking your head and clutching your jacket. Jim took huge strides towards you. He couldn’t believe that someone like you loved someone like you. He caressed your cheek and ran his hand through your hair. You stroke his bicep and looked up at him.

Jim squeaked, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean any of it. I’m scared. I’m scared because I’m in love with you, too.”

You kissed his forehead, and ran your hands through his hair, “Then, we’ll get through this together.”

I'm scared of what you'll say

And so I'm hiding what I'm feeling

But I'm tired of holding this inside my head

The club was packed. So many people were on the dance floor, just grinding into each other. Jim was one of them. His hands were on the waist of some alien girl as they swayed. It had been months since you left, and yet, Jim couldn’t let you go. You were a constant at the back of his mind. He tried to bury it. And, here he was, a playboy, someone who just wants to have sex. He wouldn’t accept it but he knew.

He was trying to find you in other women.

He also knew he wouldn’t get you.

It didn’t stop him. He just never got attached or developed feelings. He hated you. Or that’s what he said to himself.

I've been spending all my time

Just thinking about ya

I don't know what to do

I think I'm fallin' for you

I've been waiting all my life

And now I found ya

I don't know what to do

Jim pushed the glass door open and stepped into the office, “Sir, can I know why me and my crew are docked right now? And, about this classified mission?”

The Admiral smiled softly, “Ofcourse, Captain Kirk. You’ll be working with MACO. Specifically, a Major. As soon as she arrives-“

You growled, entering, “Admiral, I might torpedo someone. My team and I-“

Jim’s heart stopped.

No. It couldn’t be her. That voice still haunted me in my dreams. I whipped around and instantly regretted it. It really was her. She stood there just as surprised as me.

You felt like you were a deer caught in headlights. All the memories of the past that you tried to push under the carpet bubbled up. You heart screamed in pain. Those electric blue eyes. They were burning holes in you. Yet, you cleared your throat, and walked up to the Admiral.

You felt your throat constrict as you shut your eyes tightly, willing yourself to focus, till you could no longer feel his eyes. You walked towards the table.

The Admiral motioned to you, with his eyes on Jim, “Captain Kirk, this is Major Y/N Y/L/N. Military Assault Command Operations. MACO for short.”

This time he looked at you, “Major, this is Captain Jim Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. A science vessel.”

You deadpanned, “Captain.”

He growled, “Major.”

You spoke, “Sir, why are making two ends meet? Military and Science?”

He sighed, “We need you to infiltrate a rebel base. But, they have something that belongs to Starfleet. That’s where the Enterprise comes in. You, Y/L/N, need to help secure the base and the rebels. Arrest them. And Captain, you need to secure the various experiments. The official briefing is in an hour. Gather your crew.”

briefing is in an hour. Gather your crew.”

Jim started, “With due respect, sir-“

His cut-throat tone made you gulp, “I don’t care what personal history you have with each other. I need this job done. And done by the best of the departments. So, talk it out.”

You nodded, “Affirmative, sir.”

He walked away, leaving the two of you behind.

You cleared your throat and asked, “How have you been?”

He replied, “Major, we have work-“

You sighed, rubbing your forehead, “We both need to focus on this mission, Kirk. The only way is to-“

He cut in, “-Ignore it. Alright? I don’t care.”

Sighing, you nodded, “Alright, Captain. See you then.”

I think I'm fallin' for you

I'm fallin' for you

Oh, I just can't take it

Jim moved through the crowds and you tagged along. There was tension between the two of you. Anyone passing by could see that easily. Suddenly, you arrived at the Bridge.

Jim cleared his throat, “This is Commander Spock. My second-in-command.”

The Vulcan shook your hand politely, “Hello, Major Y/L/N. Good Afternoon.”

You chuckled “I just smacked myself in the face picking up my comm. It really is a good afternoon.”

Spock rose his eyebrow, but smirked.

Kirk spoke, “We’ll head to the Medbay then.”

You could feel it. The tension. In the turbolift, whenever you walked together. Every time, and your guilt just got worse and worse. After what seemed like eternities, you arrived at your destination.

Once again, Jim introduced you to a blue shirt, “Bones. This is Major Y/N Y/L/N. Major, this is CMO Leonard McCoy.”

“Call me Bones, love. Everyone does.”

You drew out the word, “Okay.” Suddenly your eyes fell on the ball of fluff sitting on the table, “Oh my god, awe!”

Bones gaze floated to what caught your attention, “A tribble? Their only two purposes in life appear to be to eat and to reproduce.”

“Just like humans.”

He chuckled and turned to Jim, “I like her.”

“We should get going. Gonna hit warp in 10.”

You grimaced at Jim’s tone, “Alright, Captain. I’ll be at the bridge in 20.”

At this point, Leonard knew something was wrong. He stopped his best friend and grabbed his shoulder, “Hey, Jim-“

Jim’s voice was full of irritation. And hurt. “Can this wait, Bones?”

Hesitantly, he nodded, “Okay. Yeah.”

The same day, Jim spilled all the secrets to his best friend. Bones.

My heart is racing

The emotions keep spilling out

I've been spending all my time

Just thinking about ya

A few days later.

Jim sighed, “Can i just...undo that?”

Bones deadpanned, “Nope.”

“Oh man, cause that was embarrassing as hell.”

“Yep.”

Spock walked in on the two. Raising his eyebrow, he questioned, “You’re not sober, are you?”

Bones groaned, “I’m reasonably functional.”

The Captain spoke, “That’s a no.”

soon, the two broke into a laughing fit as The Vulcan’s gaze rose to you.

You were currently sitting on top of the counter Jim and Bones were leaning against. He could see amusement dancing in your eyes.

He gave you a pointed look, “Aren’t you gonna do something?”

“I’m paid to protect y’all from various aliens and abuse from any and everyone, not your own stupidity.”

Jim giggled, poking your side, “You’re the best bodyguard ever.”

Spock rolled his eyes and went out the door. You almost saw him smile at you lot.

Bones grinned, “This is gonna be controversial and debatable, but that went well.”

Now the three of you were laughing and wheezing.

The next morning, you expected the two men to be much, much more hungover than you. The reason being that you could hold your alcohol. Striding inside the Medbay, you were ready to pick on Jim and Bones for their killer headaches but, you instead found them chatting. Normally, may you add. You could hear supplies being one of the topics.

Apparently, the two had noticed your shock filled expression as the realisation dawned on them.

Jim smirked at you then turned back to Bones and spoke loud, so that you could hear, “She thought she’s special just cause she can hold her alcohol.”

Coming up beside him, you smacked his shoulder. Bones smiled and shook his head. He had to accept the fact that he had grown close to you. He saw you as his little sister. A little sister who could kick any and everyone’s ass. Jim had told him the history between the two of you on the first day. Hence, he had been sceptical about you. But, slowly and steadily, he grew to admire and respect you.

The way you would coo to a tribble. All little things added up. And he could see in Jim’s eyes, that he could see them too. Just from a different perspective.

He could see the love and hurt flashing in his eyes. Battling and debating. Bones just hoped Jim would figure it out. For both of your sake.

You hummed, “In my defence, we finished an entire bottle of whiskey.”

You were glad that things were working out on the Enterprise. For you, and for everyone. The first few days were bumpy but soon, you grew warm towards all the members of Jim’s crew. And by a miracle, even Jim himself. You knew he had not forgotten and he hadn’t forgiven. But, right now, all you both wanted to do was to push the elephant away. As far away and for long.

I don't know what to do

I think I'm fallin' for you

I've been waiting all my life

And now I found ya

Jim muttered to himself, refreshing his padd over and over again, “What the hell?”

When he realised what was actually happening, he sprinted off towards your room.

Meanwhile, you were packing your uniforms and belongings in a suitcase. Folding and stuffing repeatedly. You felt a sick feeling at the bottom of your stomach. You didn’t want to leave. Suddenly, your doors opened. And in walked the gorgeously blue-eyed man.

“Hey, J-“

He stated coldly, “You’re leaving.”

You took in a deep breathe, “My job’s done. I have-“

His voice raised, as he scoffed, “There you go again with the same crap to justify your shitty actions!”

You gaped at him, “Where is this coming from?”

He snorted, “Oh, ofcourse you’re gonna play dumb about it. Just like you have all these days!”

This time, you yelled, “You don’t understand Jim! You never will!”

“You didn’t even help me try to, Y/N! You don’t get to blame me!”

Instantly the anger vanished, “I’m not-“

“Neither do you have the right to be jealous when I flirt with someone else!”

You stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

He just scoffed to your reaction, “Yeah, I’ve seen it. You don’t have the right to, after all this time!”

He ran a shaky hand through his hair and pointed to you, “You don’t have the right to stroll up to me and my crew and pretend we’re friends! Cause let me make you clear we aren’t! We are far from friends or more!”

You were in the verge of tears by now, “I’m not pretending! I’m trying to make amends! I’m try to make amends for leaving! For abandoning you! I am trying to get out of this web of lies I’ve spun!” You sighed in frustration and turned away from him, “Till this day, I regret what I did! I loved you, Jim! I had to choose between us and my goddamn life!”

Jim froze at that. All his rage vanished, as the realisation slowly started creeping in, “What do you mean your life?”

You just growled at your helplessness in the situation, “I am sorry.” Leaning on your wall, you back was towards him. Your voice broke, “I know it won’t help but i broke just as much as you did, when I left.”

Suddenly, he turned cold again, “You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

You scoffed at him in disbelief. Tears were steaming down your face freely now but you didn’t care. Yet again, your voice rose, “You tell me what I was supposed to do after witnessing a murder! You think Witness Protection was my idea?! That maniac almost killed me and my family! I went for MACO because that’s the only reason I could live my life freely and protect my family! You weren’t there when I called your home, Jim! You had left for Starfleet! I wasn’t gonna take that away from you!”

The pair of you went rigid at your confession.

Million thoughts were running around your head. You didn’t want this to happen. God, no. You wanted, you needed to protect him. Yet, here you were, you secret out. Shaking your head, you composed yourself and sniffed, “I need to go. The shuttle’s waiting.”

He watched you go. The doors shut. That’s when it all dawned on him. The reality of the situation. The hurt, the pain, the anger of it. Once again, he ran. He ran towards you. He ran towards the woman he loved and will always love. He ran to get you back.

Jim caught your wrists and turned you around, not letting go of your hands, “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to let you go. I never stopped loving you, Y/N. I never will. You’re my first and last, Y/L/N. Don’t let go.”

Never before had you even considered this happening. But, it was happening.

Jim didn’t hate you. Not at all. The reality was the exact opposite of what you had been thinking.

Gasping, you tore his your hands away from his and pressed them against his cheeks. Pulling him towards you, you connected your lips with his.

Nothing about the kiss had changed.

You still felt the exact same fireworks. You still felt the exact same love. So did Jim.

Pulling away, your whispered to him, afraid it wasn’t real, “I still love you too. God, I do. Last time, I didn’t have a choice, but this time I do. And, I choose you, Jim Kirk. I’ll choose you over and over and over.”

You never left after that. Not the Enterprise, not Jim, not your crew.

I don't know what to do

I think I'm fallin' for you

I'm fallin' for you

I think I'm fallin' for you

I can't stop thinking about it

I want you all around me

And now I just can't hide it

I think I'm fallin' for you

I can't stop thinking about it

I want you all around me

And now I just can't hide it

I think I'm fallin' for you

I'm fallin' for you

Oh no no

Oh, I'm fallin' for ya

#jim kirk #jim kirk x reader #star trek #star trek aos #jim kirk aos #chris pine #bones mccoy #spock #james tiberius kirk

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elizaviento · 6 years ago

Note

If you are up for it: Reader waking up in the middle of the night to see Flesh Curtains Rick sitting outside and writing/composing a song? Finds out it is a song about them, maybe some melancholic vibes?

Okay, I really tried to be more precise with your request, but Rick wouldn’t allow it. He had other things in mind. I still hope you enjoy it!

This will be a continuation from my other Flesh Curtains Rick request titled Helping Hands.

Holding Out

(Flesh Curtains Rick x Reader)

NSFW – 2900 words of straight up, unapologetic smut.

(FYI: Helping Hands can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.)

*****

After Rick dropped me off at my house that first night, I honestly expected to never see him again. But, I kept his number in my phone as a reminder of the mutual fun we shared. Every now and then, I’d pull his contact up and my mind would immediately be back there on that ratty old couch in that shitty bar with Rick aggressively stroking his cock while growling the filthiest shit I’d ever heard in my direction. I wasn’t exactly innocent but it was the most erotic experience of my life up to that point.

One day, not long after that fateful night, my boyfriend caught me staring at my phone with a goofy far away look on my face. At least, that’s what he called it. And, the more time that passed, the more I realized that Todd was a complete idiot, just as Rick assumed. It was little things at first – like the way he always wiped his mouth on my hand towels after brushing his teeth, staining them with toothpaste.

Or the way he would enter my living room and change the television channel while I was in the middle of a show or movie. “Oh, you were watching that?”

Or his shitty taste in music. “Are you listening to that Meat Hooks band again?”

That was the last straw. “They’re called the Flesh Curtains, Todd. You know that!”

Soon after, I told him I was done and then completely ghosted on him. He kept trying to contact me for a while afterward. He even wrote me a sappy love letter and left it on my front porch. “I planned to propose to you this summer,” he lied. But it was done and I could continue to relive that night with Rick without guilt.

I wasn’t a moron. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Rick had plenty of groupies to choose from each and every night. No, I’d never see him again unless it was in the crowd of another concert. And, that was fine. That was… normal.

Or so I thought.

It was 2:00 am when I was awoken by a loud knock on my front door. Naturally, I was terrified. No one knocks on your front door at 2:00 am unless someone is gravely hurt or dead. My mind conjured up every possible disaster until I heard a voice calling my name from outside.

“Heyyy – hey sexy girl! Let – lemme in!”

I knew that voice. I began to slowly creep toward the door to look through the peephole.

“Shit, is this the right house?” I heard the voice say, after another round of pounding knocks. It couldn’t be…

It was. Rick Sanchez was standing on my front porch in the middle of the night. What kind of dream was this?

Another round of knocks rained down on the door before I snapped out of my shocked stupor and realized that my neighbors would eventually get pissed enough to call the cops. I peered through the peephole one more time to confirm that I wasn’t going insane before I slowly unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door. He was facing away from it, running his long fingers through his tousled hair, but turned on a dime to press his face in the crack the moment he heard the lock disengage.

“What the hell?” I asked, more to myself than him.

“Hey, baby. I was think – thinkin’ about you and thought I’d stop by.”

He looked absolutely gorgeous and I was on the verge of throwing the door open to drag him inside and straight to my bed before I reined myself in. I was a reasonable human being who practiced self control on a daily basis. I couldn’t let one man completely unravel me, even if he was a member of my favorite band.

“Do you even know where you are right now?” I asked through the crack. I kept my chain lock in place, preventing the door from opening any wider. He pressed his face in closer and attempted to peer around me to see inside my house.

“That – uh – that idiot boyfriend of yours here?” Okay, so maybe he knew exactly where he was.

“No. I broke up with him a few weeks ago.”

“And you didn’t call me?” he asked, trying to push the door open further. The chain lock tightened and halted his progress. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked offended.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Come on, baby. Let me – lemme in and I’ll eat your pussy ‘til you cry.” He reached his hand through the crack and fisted the front of my t-shirt in his hand. “I – I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, ” he growled, pulling me further toward the crack until my face was pressed against it. I was paralyzed, his filthy mouth rendering me completely helpless as he leaned forward to press his face as close to mine as he could, running his tongue along the side of my mouth.

I pushed him back just enough to close the door and fumble the chain lock from its track before throwing it open again and pulling him inside – just how I had imagined. He was more than receptive, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me close and began licking and nipping his way from my jaw to my neck. He slithered his hands under my shirt and flattened them on my stomach, gliding them up until he cupped both of my tits in his enormous hands. I whimpered and leaned my head back when he reached my collar bone and slid his tongue from one side to the other, slowly circling his palms on my hardened nipples.

We didn’t make it to my bed. We didn’t even make it to the couch. He pushed me to the floor in the foyer, rid me of my t-shirt and panties and began his assault on my body.

“Such a – such a naughty girl,” he growled in my ear as he ground his leather clad bulge against my naked pussy. I wrapped my legs around his torso to keep him there, the friction absolutely delicious. “I-I-I told you to call me, didn’t I?” I could only whimper again in response as he roughly rolled both of my nipples between his thumb and index fingers. “Now, I – I’m gonna have to punish you.”

Oh dear god, I could have came right then and there. But he pulled back, robbing me of the sweet friction, leaving my cunt throbbing with need.

“No – nope. Naughty girls don’t get to cum. Not – not until I say so.”

Holy shit, why was this making me so wet? I’d never been submissive or even considered it. In fact, I was usually the aggressor in normal sexual situations and thought I was content. Obviously not. But, I was completely unsure of what to do or say. What was the magic response that would coax him to completely defile me?

“Rick.” I sighed, recalling that he enjoyed hearing his name. Could that be the key?

“Shh,” he chided, moving one hand from my breast to cover my mouth. The other moved to the floor beside my head to hover his body above mine —just out of reach. “Be quiet, sweetheart. Don’t — don’t wanna wake the neighbors, do we?” I shook my head, eyes wide. “Thaaat’s a good girl,” he praised, lowering his head to gently plant his teeth in my collar bone.

“Oh fuuuck” I moaned, muffled behind his hand. I could literally feel my pussy dripping and I flushed in humiliation. He tsked me with a shake if his head at my reluctance to follow his rules but continued his lecture nonetheless.

“I-I-I’m gonna teach you a lesson, little girl. For not — for holdin’ out on me. For makin’ me fuck my hand while I waited for you.” He sank his teeth into the other side of my collar bone, marking me, before he continued. I kept completely silent, hoping to keep him happy.

“Mmm, I’m gonna — gonna lick that pussy, baby. Suck on that clit. Until you — y-you’re juuust about to cum. And, then…” He let the sentence hang as he removed his hand from my mouth and began kissing his way down my body, pausing at my tits to lavish each nipple with his tongue and teeth. I squirmed and panted below him, unable to stifle the breathy moans. Realizing my mistake, I flicked my eyes downward to catch his gaze. He smirked around my nipple before releasing it with a pop, knowing he’d successful broken me like a wild horse. Again, I felt my cunt gush and throb.

Finally — finally — he settled between my thighs, lifting and spreading them wide.

“Keep — hold ‘em up for me, sweetheart. Hands here – behind your knees.” I did as he instructed, shoving each hand behind each knee to keep them raised and spread. And, lying there nude in my foyer, I was completely vulnerable.

“Oh, yesss,” he crooned, caressing my inner thighs. “Such a — such a good girl for me.”

At this point, I was trembling in anticipation, my pussy aching for attention. I needed him to touch me — right then — or I would die. When I felt his thumbs spread my lips wide and a warm puff of his breath ghost across my exposed clit, my entire body jerked in response.

“Oh, baby. You want – need it bad, don’t you?” The tender tone of his voice suggested that he expected a reply this time.

“Yes, Rick. Please!” I begged, my voice thin and strained. He hummed in approval and lightly sucked my clit between his lips.

The pleasure was immediate and intense, forcing another full body jerk and an involuntary cry. Being seemingly satisfied with my submission thus far, he refrained from scalding me further in favor of sucking just a little bit harder.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” l chanted in a strangled whisper, struggling to keep my hands behind my knees and away from his thick, coarse hair. I was mere seconds from orgasm, feeling my cunt clinch in preparation.

And, then he stopped.

The change in sensation was so abrupt that my body remained tense in anticipation of immense relief. But, nothing. And, the ache returned — tenfold.

“Wha — what?” I huffed between the thundering beats of my heart. I heard Rick chuckle from below me and I flushed in humiliation once again. He had me and he knew it.

Then he resumed – lapped at me, sliding his tongue up and down the length of my wet cunt over and over, applying slightly more pressure each time the tip of his tongue swiped up my clit. He was building me up again – higher and higher; tiny shock waves bringing me closer and closer.

“Rick, oh god. Rick, please,” I pleaded. “Please, more.”

He seemed to read my mind as he pressed the flat of his tongue firmly on my clit on the very next upward swipe. My whispered pleas soon became desperate cries. Just. A little. More.

Then he stopped.

I literally sobbed and gripped the flesh behind my knees tighter, digging my nails deeper. A moment that felt like a year passed before he resumed again, kissing each of my thighs while pushing two fingers up to the knuckle.

“Oh my god!” I cried as my cunt automatically clamped around the intruding digits. Rick chuckled again and slowly withdrew. Then pushed back in.

I was on the verge of hyperventilation, my head swimming. Keeping quiet was now impossible. I moaned with abandon has he slowly finger fucked me, hooking his fingers to press my g-spot with each stroke. My legs were trembling and I was so sooo close again. If he stopped this time, I knew I would cry.

He stopped.

I continued to tremble as I removed my hands from behind my knees, grinding the heels of my palms against my eyes to prevent the tears from flowing freely. I hated him. I hated him so fucking much.

“Fuck you,” I sobbed, lowering my legs and clamping them closed. The ache was literally painful at this point and I wasn’t as much of a masochistic as he clearly wanted me to be. But, he closed his hands around my knees and lifted my legs up and over his shoulders, ignoring my small protest.

“You – you’ve been so good, baby. It’ll be worth it, I promise,” he soothed, lowering his face back to my swollen pussy to push his tongue inside. Now that my hands were free, I fisted them in his hair so he couldn’t get away from me again, grinding my wet cunt on his face.

“Use your fingers again. Suck on my clit,” I demanded, tugging his hair. Then, thinking better of it, I added, “Please?” I felt him moan against me before leaning back to slide his fingers through my folds.

“I-I-I knew you could be sweet,” he praised, placing a soft kiss to clit before continuing, “As sweet as this pussy.”

Then he completely unleashed on me – sucking and swiping and flicking with his mouth and tongue while fucking me vigorously with this fingers. I had been so over stimulated by his prior teasing that the sensory overload was intense.

“FUCK!” I screamed, clamping my thighs around his head. “Please don’t stop, Rick! Please, please!” I begged. He hummed deeply against my clit while shaking his head from side to side and I came so suddenly and forcefully that my back arched off the floor, grinding my oversensitive clit harder against his tongue. And, as I came down, he continued to soothe with gentle kitten licks, causing me to whine his name in ecstasy.

When I saw him rise from between my legs, I barked out a laugh. His hair was totally disheveled from my insistent yanking and his face was completely drenched.

“Oh, you – y-y-you think that’s funny, huh?” he asked, crawling back up my body. Instead of answering, I grabbed the front of the strip of cloth he passed off as a shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I have a bed, ya know,” I said, nodding my head toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. Without another word, he hoisted me up and over his shoulder and took me there.

———-

The following morning, I woke before him and spent an hour watching him sleep, trying to understand how this could have happened. How did I get lucky enough to be chosen that night at the bar? Was it because I was the only person wearing Flesh Curtains gear? Why did Rick take a shine to me? I’m nothing special – just an average girl with a painfully average life. It could have been nothing more than his desire to get laid and that’s exactly what I’d chalked it up to – until tonight. He’d intentionally sought me out, fucked me stupid and didn’t leave immediately afterward. How odd.

Unable to resist any longer, I ran my fingers through his messy hair. I heard him groan before he rolled over to face me. When he tried to pull me in for a kiss, I playfully shoved him away.

“Morning breath!” I joked, giggling when he overpowered me and pressed his lips to mine regardless. When he flopped back down on his back, I asked, “Why did you come here?”

“Told you – I couldn’t stop t-thinkin’ about you,” he rasped, scrubbing his hand down his face.

“Humm,” I mused, still uncertain.

“Uh – mind if I take a shower?” he asked.

“Sure. Towels are in the bathroom closet.”

He climbed out of my bed and strutted to my en suite completely nude and I didn’t even try to hide the goofy grin that spread across my face.

“Come join me, babe,” he coaxed, reaching a hand toward me.

“I’ll be there in a sec. Let me put on some coffee.”

When I heard the loud squeak of the faucet and the whooshing of water coming from the shower head, I got up and pulled my robe from the back of the closet door. In his rush to fuck me last night, he had ripped off his clothes and tossed them all over my room. I laughed to myself at the memory as I plucked each piece off the floor. When I got to his leather pants, a small folded piece of paper fell from the back pocket. I wrestled with my conscious for about two seconds before I gave in and gently unfolded it.

The handwriting was barely legible, but one thing stood out like a sore thumb – my address, scribbled in the bottom left hand corner. I scanned the rest of the page, trying to decipher the letters enough to associate them with actual words. And, when I did, I literally gasped.

They were song lyrics – with my name peppered throughout.

The End.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez #fanfiction #flesh curtains rick #flesh curtains rick x reader #fanfiction request #holding out

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