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spideybatsy · 5 months ago

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Late Night

Summary: GN!Reader gets a cleaning job working at Wayne Enterprises when a certain billionaire playboy develops an obsession with them. Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader WC: 3K Warnings: being watched without knowing, mentions of erections, nothing too serious. Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3 This is the first chapter in my new series! I haven't written in a year, so be kind Masterlist

The wind pressed against your sweat slick skin as you stepped into the shadow of Wayne Tower. A shiver rolled down your spine, half caused by the weather and half by the ravenous butterflies in your stomach. Starting a new job is never easy but God, you have never needed a job as much as you need this one.

The renewal of your lease brought a steep increase in rent at the same time as your boss announced he was closing the business. You couldn’t really say you were surprised, the bakery was definitely a front for something nefarious, why else would the GCPD come in every other week?

It was a shame, really. You loved working at the bakery, especially during those quiet moments when you could just sit there and watch the world go by. God knows you’ll be rushed off your feet now.

Cleaning wasn’t your first choice, nor was it your second. Hell, it wasn’t even on the list. But you were not in the position to be anything but grateful when your friend mentioned an opening at their work. The hours weren’t the best but the pay was surprisingly good.

You walked into the building and were immediately shoved by someone sprinting to the lift. Taking a deep breath, you regained your bearings, straightened your shirt, and headed for security. You’d been in the building only once, for your interview, but figured you’d need some sort of pass to get into the actual offices.

The security man who served you was disarmingly attractive and you couldn’t help but blush as he ran his eyes down your figure. His hair was a dirty blonde, pushed back and behind his ears.

“First day?”

“That obvious?”

He chuckled, before asking for your name and looking you up on the system. “I’ll just call your supervisor, Emily, to come down.”

“Thank you.” The two of you fell into an almost awkward silence. “How, uh, long until your shift finishes?”

“I’m on a morning today, so I finish at 12. How about you?”

“Well, I’ll usually be doing the 4 till 10 shift but they wanted me in earlier today. So, I'll finish around 3.”

“Too bad.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I would’ve loved to take you out for dinner.” Were your cheeks on fire or was it suddenly just really hot in here? “Maybe it’ll have to be lunch instead.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was interrupted by Emily calling your name.

“There you are, I’ve been waiting for you!”

You flashed a sorry smile at him and rushed over to your friend's side.

“Hey, what’s that guard's name?” Although you knew he couldn’t hear you from here, you still whispered.

You cringed as Emily started to turn back, quickly reaching out and stopping her.

“I think that’s Russell.” She whispered back, “Why?”

“He asked me out on a date.”

“Really?” Well, no more whispering. You simply nodded your head, following her into the lift. “You don’t even have your access pass and you’ve got the men drooling. You dirty stop out.”

“I haven’t slept with him!”

“Yet.”

“I’ll be telling HR you called me a slut.”

“Hoping they’ll sleep with you too?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing her slightly with your shoulder. As the numbers on the lift drew higher, the two of you settled down. Joking with your friend was one thing but you needed people here to take you seriously, even if you were just the cleaner.

“Are the people here nice?” You weren’t expecting your voice to sound so… small.

Emily looked over at you, affectionately bumping your shoulder. “Yeah, most of them are lovely.”

“What about the others?”

“Fuckable.”

The lift doors opened and filled the floor with the sound of your combined laughter.

—-

“And down here, you have Mister Wayne’s office.” You followed Emily down the hallway, looking into an office and making eye contact with an older man. You gave him a quick smile and was pleased when he returned it.

“That’s Lucius Fox, he’s really the boss.”

“What about Bruce Wayne?”

“What about him?” Emily stopped at the front of the last door.

“Well, it’s Wayne Enterprises, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

You couldn’t help but gasp as she threw the door open, jumping to apologise to the aforementioned man.

Only, he wasn’t there.

Emily laughed, walking further into the room. “He’s hardly here, probably recovering from his drunken nights spent with supermodels.”

You hesitantly followed her in, amazed by the so-called office. This one room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. It definitely had better views.

“I’m not sure you should be talking about our boss like that,” you mumbled, walking over to the floor to ceiling windows.

Emily came to stand next to you, “it’s not like he’s ever here to hear it.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you jolted around, instantly fearing the worst. Was it possible you could be fired before you even got your first paycheck? How were you going to pay rent now?

You couldn’t tell if you should be relieved or not when you realised it was the man you’d smiled at earlier. Lucius Fox.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Emily replied, turning back to the view.

Oh my God. What was she doing? “Please excuse my friend, Mr Fox. I think she meant-”

“I know what she meant,” he responded while walking over.

You opted to say nothing and pretended to look out the window, wishing for the tension to dissipate as quickly as possible.

“You’re scaring them to death, Fox.”

The older man laughed, coming to rest his hand on your shoulder. “Worry not, dear. You’ll grow used to the banter.”

The tension started melting from your shoulders, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

—

Within two weeks, you’d fallen into a comfortable routine. You came into work at 3:45 to make yourself a tea and read your book, before starting work at 4. You start at the side furthest from Wayne’s office, as they left the earliest. By the time you reached the common areas, the rest of the staff would be leaving, only Fox remaining. He was always the last one to leave, usually close to 7. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, since you knew he was typically the first person in the office too. So, you’d bring him a decaffeinated coffee around 5pm. You’d find yourself talking to him for a while, usually about stories from the past that you could both laugh about.

Truth be told, you were starting to really enjoy the man's company. He had a dry sense of humour that you found hilarious. Being in the office late could be rather lonely, so you clung onto the moments you had with him.

A positive of working alone in the office was that you could play all your music out loud. You’d recently gotten into a podcast where three friends read stories and discussed them. A lot of them were light hearted or ‘am i the asshole’ reddit posts.

Tonight, you listened to their supernatural episode as you finished up in Fox’s office when you heard a bang down the hallway. Slowly, you creeped to the door to peep down the corridor but there was no one there.

Maybe the ghost stories were getting to you. You shook your head and turned back into the office when you heard the noise again. Jumping, you looked toward the sound. The only thing down there was Mr Wayne’s office.

Clutching your mop between closed fists, you edged down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and rushed in, hoping to catch the perpetrator in action.

Only the office was empty, of course it was. You couldn’t help the relief that coursed through your veins. It was obviously going to be empty, you had yet to see The Bruce Wayne in this room. You were starting to wonder if it had even been used. Maybe Fox should get this office, that way someone can appreciate the view.

You laughed quietly to yourself before turning off the podcast and putting on some tunes. That was more than enough scares for you tonight.

Unbeknownst to you, you were not alone. A certain billionaire had stumbled in here before his night duty, expecting to find the place empty as usual. He hadn’t been in for a few weeks now but things rarely changed this high in the building.

Then you’d burst into the room, armed with a mop and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. You were the single most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Who were you and what were you doing here?

He couldn’t help the way his dick twitched in his trousers. No. Now is not the time.

He stayed in the shadows and watched you work, diligently going from one room to another before stopping in the kitchen to make a drink. You pulled a book out of your bag and read for a while. Bruce found himself creeping closer, eager to see what you were reading.

Then you looked up and it seemed like you were staring straight at him. He knew you couldn’t see him but he couldn’t stop the way his heart stuttered in his chest. Nor the way his lower half jolted.

What was it about you that made his infamous control slip? He’d never had this issue, not even as a teenager.

Your eyes widened as you kept gazing in his direction and he slowly turned his head. The bat symbol drifted amongst the clouds.

He held back a sigh as he shifted further into the darkness.

Maybe he was due a visit back into the office, after all.

—

Or maybe not.

It had been a week since Bruce first saw you in his office, clutching a mop like your life depended on it. Sometimes, when he lay awake in his bed, he thought about how oblivious you were to his presence that night. And every night since.

He should really get you some self defence classes, perhaps send them as a gift from Wayne Enterprises. He hated thinking about what could’ve happened if he really was a burglar. He could only keep you so safe, you needed to be able to handle yourself.

Then he felt a bit crazy. Here he was, talking about you like you were… part of his life. Although, he supposed at this point you were part of his life. He just wasn’t part of yours. Too many times he’d driven to the building just to never get out of his car.

He’d asked Fox about you at his last equipment meeting. He tried to act nonchalant about it, casually asking if there were any new staff on the top floor.

“We have a new cleaner.” Fox said, relaying your name. “They’ve been here for about three weeks. Settling in very well.”

Bruce repeated your name, strangely satisfied by the way it rolled off his tongue.

“May I inquire why you’ve asked about them?” Fox’s words caught Bruce off guard. “You’ve never been interested in the Wayne staff before.”

“Just keeping up to date with the comings and goings of my fathers legacy.” Bruce suddenly found the kevlar padding very interesting.

“Better late than never, I suppose.” Fox hummed, running his fingers across the fabric. “This kevlar is half the weight of your current gear.”

“Is it still as durable?”

You didn’t come up in the conversation again but Fox filed the information away, eager to ask Alfred about it.

—

“What does your partner think about you working so late?”

Fox’s question caught you completely off guard, causing you to almost spurt out your tea. He immediately grabbed the tissues off his desk, handing them to you.

“Forgive me, it was an inappropriate question.”

“No, no, no. It’s fine.” You said, finally swallowing down your mouthful. “I, uh, don’t have a partner. So, I don’t think they mind.”

“I suppose that makes two of us.”

Before you could respond, he tactfully changed the conversation.

—

“They’re single, you know.”

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t look away from his newspaper. “Whose single, Alfred?”

His heart almost broke free from his chest when Alfred said your name.

“How would you know that?” Bruce’s words were more rushed than he would’ve liked, the newspaper long forgotten on the table.

“Every old man has his secrets.”

“You spoke to Fox,” Bruce sighed. “They probably thought he was coming onto them.”

“Worried you have competition, Master Wayne?”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You know, I may not be the master of romance but I hear that the first step in any relationship is to talk to each other.”

“Obviously,” Bruce muttered, picking his newspaper back up.

“What you’re doing right now has a name, Master Wayne.”

“And what is that?”

“Stalking.”

Bruce couldn’t help but flinch at the word. He turned to defend himself but Alfred was already gone, leaving him a pot of tea.

—

You were sitting in the kitchen, tea in one hand and your book in the other. You’d found yourself in the office a bit earlier than usual but didn’t mind. It was always good to have some time to wind down before you started your shift.

“What are you reading?”

You couldn’t help but inwardly sigh, putting your bookmark in. “Just a-” Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. If Russell was attractive, this man was downright gorgeous. A face carved for a god with luscious hair combed behind his ear.

He looked eerily familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. You could feel your cheeks heat up as you bought your gaze back down to the book.

“I’ve never heard of The Dry Heart before,” Bruce’s heart leapt from his chest as he took the seat across from you. “What’s it about?”

You sneaked a glance up at him but immediately looked back down when you made eye contact. “It’s about an unhappy marriage, I’m reading it for a book club.”

He hummed, his eyes searching your face. You were even more breath-catching up close. “You must be our new cleaner,” you liked the way he said your name far too much. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you.”

“You have?” Who was this man? You would remember seeing such a gorgeous face among the office.

“I try to meet all the new employees but I’ve been a bit slack lately, please forgive me.”

You slowly lifted your eyes to look at him and couldn’t help the way your lips lifted.

“Consider it forgotten,” you said softly.

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Fox.

“Mr Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” Lucius came in and stood beside you. “I see you’ve met our latest employee.”

Your eyes shoot, Mr Wayne? Surely not. In your rushed state, you completely missed the way Fox smirked at Bruce, causing the younger man to stare daggers back at him.

“Of course, it’s important to know everyone in the office.”

Fox hummed, turning back to you. “Please excuse us, I have a very important meeting to drag Mr Wayne into.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You had a hard time even saying the words, your mind whirling. Wasn’t Bruce Wayne an arrogant asshole? This man was the furthest from that. He was so kind and funny. And good looking. Holy shit was he good looking.

No, you’re not doing that. Not to your boss. Especially not when your boss is a world famous womaniser.

You can’t help the way your eyes follow him as he walks out or the way they trail down to his perfect ass. Entering the hallway, Fox rolls his eyes when he sees the massive smirk on Bruce’s face.

—

“I was hoping I’d find you here.”

You can’t help but jump as Bruce walks into the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Please,” he sits down at the table and smiles at you. “Call me Bruce.”

“Okay, Bruce.”

Bruce savours the way his name rolls off your tongue and how your cheeks go bright red under his gaze. His eyes follow as your blush spreads down your neck and under your neckline.

“I usually take the new employees out for lunch, your turn is well overdue.” He takes a moment before continuing. “I guess ours would be more like dinner.”

“I suppose so,” you smile at him, oblivious to his wandering gaze. “But you don’t have to do that, Bruce. It’s fine, honestly.”

“I insist. How about tonight?”

You brought a lousy microwave dinner for tonight but there’s no reason why it can’t wait for tomorrow. Plus, who doesn’t like a free dinner? Lost in thought, Bruce takes the opportunity to study the way you bite your lip and store it away for later.

“Sure, tonight is good.”

—

You weren’t sure what to expect during dinner but it wasn’t this. Bent over, your hand clutching your side in an attempt to ease your stitch as you laugh hysterically. Bruce is laughing too, his smile so big it shows his perfectly pearly whites.

“No way, you’re lying.” You gasp between breaths.

“I wish,” Bruce looks away in faux-shame. “I wasn’t always the smoothest.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Your laugh settles into a smile.

“Why’s that?” He sounds genuine when he asks, curious even.

“Well, look at you.” You immediately heat at the implication, quickly stuttering off an excuse. This is not a date. “Y-You’re The Bruce Wayne. It would’ve been a-all over the newspapers if you, uh, messed up.”

Bruce merely hums, his eyes dropping down to your lips as you bite away at them again.

This is bad. You cannot be flirting with the boss, especially not your boss's boss. Sure, he might be into it now but he’s not known to stick around with the same person for long. You can not afford to lose this job if things go bad.

You’re saved by the server coming back to drop off the check. Bruce’s hand grasps yours as you go to take the check, sending a bolt of electricity down your arm. His eyes find your own, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’ve got you.”

Fuck.

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courtforshort15 · 2 years ago

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These Broken Things

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word Count: 6,200

Summary: Matt Murdock is exceptionally good at closing himself off and pushing people away. It's a bit of a breaking point for you, even while you pray it's not the end.

Trigger warning: talking about death and assault, angst with a hopeful ending.

Masterlist

"I told you to drop it."

"Drop it?" you exclaimed, following him into his apartment and down the long hallway, the lights of the bilboard lighting your ways, hues of blues and pinks playing across the suit jacket of the man in front of you. "You want me to drop it?"

"Yes, leave it alone. Nothing's wrong."

You threw your hands up in the air, exasperated beyond belief at this point, seconds away from pulling out your hair strand by strand. "That is biggest pile of dog shit I have ever heard come out of your mouth, Matthew."

He spun on his heels so fast that you nearly ran into him, only just managing to shift your weight to your back foot in order to stop your momentum from taking you forward. The frustration on his face and narrowed eyes caused your eyes to widen, taken aback by his anger.

"I'm fine. Stop asking me what's wrong." His voice was low, a damn near growl, his mouth twisted in an ugly frown that was so unlike him it was startling. Your mouth dropped, voice caught in your throat temporarily, as you stared at him. Satisfied at your silence, Matt spun back around, stomping into his bedroom.

You and Matt weren't unused to spats between you from time to time, but this was the first time he had ever had a look on his face that looked like that.

You steeled your spine, letting your anger rise up past your shock, as you followed after him, only just managing to avoid knocking your knee on his coffee table in your haste. Standing at the entrance to his bedroom, arms crossed over your chest, chin tilted up in defiance.

"No," you growled out, "you don't get to talk to me like that and then walk away." Matt ignored you, and you watched as he yanked his tie off before swiftly unbuckling his slacks.

His actions alone told you that he was getting ready to go out for the night, despite the fact that the city wasn't completely dark yet, people still out and about on that chilly October evening. You knew him well enough by now that when his blood was up, like it was now, he needed the city to provide him with criminals he could bloody his fists on.

Sometimes you weren't sure who need Daredevil more; the city, or Matthew Murdock.

"Matt." He continued to tear his clothes off until all that was left was his boxers and scarred skin. "Matthew."

He finally tilted his head in your direction, chest heaving rapdily. "What?"

You raised your eyebrows as you stared at him. "Seriously? You're just gonna go out and not even try to finish this conversation?"

Matt scoffed, blank eyes all but rolling. "We're not having a conversation. You asked me what was wrong, and I said I'm fine. Anything you've said after that is on you." He didn't wait for a reply before he walked around you and exited his the bedroom, heading towards the closet under the stairs where he stored his suit. You turned to watch him, but otherwise remained frozen to the spot, completely taken aback.

"When did you get so mean?"

Matt finally faltered.

He kept his back to you, but you watched him run a hand briefly through his hair, pale hand shaking slightly in the dim lighting of his living room. His shoulders rose as he took a deep breath, reaching out to open the closet with a loud sigh. Once it was open, he knelt down and hastily swept his suit up.

He still didn't say anything, and a lump caught in your throat, anger replaced with the spark and sudden growing fire of panic.

"You've become so distant, Matt," you started, hating how your voice shook as your hands fell to your sides and clenched into tight fists. "You don't call as much, you haven't touched me in weeks, and I can't even remember the last time we slept in the same bed. What is going on?"

"Everything's fine."

Your heart was racing now. "Don't...Don't give me that. Everything is clearly not fine."

Matt was nearly done putting on the suit, currently finishing up the last fastenings as you stared at him, begging him to tell you what was wrong. But Matt was a man who bottled things up so tightly that raging thoughts and feelings were sometimes too compressed to ever escape. He'd gotten better recently, the layers of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen slowly peeling back for you, but things didn't always work the way you wanted them to.

Tonight was a prime example.

"I don't know what you expect me to say, then," he muttered, the words loud enough to be heard in his quiet apartment.

You refused to let things go. "Maybe just some explanation for why things have changed? Did I do something?"

Matt gave a loud sigh, one you immediately flinched at, huddling in on yourself before the breath even completely left his body. It was a sigh of annoyance, a sigh of disinterest, a sigh of unadulterated irritation.

"I really need to leave," he said as he very easily ignored the question, sitting on the steps to his rooftop access to tie his black shoes. "I'll call you later."

"No."

"No?"

"No," you repeated, fingernails digging into your palm as you struggled to take a breath. "If you decide to walk out that door in the middle of this, don't bother calling me."

He paused, helmet in his hand, his face a twist of incredulity and aggravation as if he couldn't understand what you were saying. You held your ground, your feet planted from right outside his bedroom, doing your best to eye him down as you bit your lip in anxiety.

"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" he asked, voice betraying his disbelief.

"No," you denied immediately, then frowned. "Well...maybe? I don't know, Matt. I don't know what to do here."

"To be clear, you're asking me to choose between you and Hell's Kitchen," he said slowly, taking a small step towards you. "You're asking me to choose, when you've spent so much time promising you'd never do that."

"I'm not asking you to choose!" you exclaimed loudly, your panic manifesting in frantic words. He looked agitated again, and it took all you had to push the tears back from where this conversation had led to. "I'm asking you to stay here and talk to me before going out."

He shook his head, scoffing, while finally slipping his helmet on and turning his back to you, ready to head up the stairs. "I don't have time for this."

"God, I feel like I don't even know you anymore." A stray, pathetic tear finally rolled down your face, and you swore you saw him stiffen, shoulders stilling and hand clenching on the banister. You knew he could taste the salt on the air, knew that he was aware tears were sliding out.

A few weeks ago you would have expected him to immediately apologize for causing you to cry, any argument dead on his lips as he held you to him, apologies and words of comfort whispered into your ears. With the feeling of utter heartbreak, your head lowered when you realized you didn't know what to expect from him anymore.

With a profound sense of sadness, and before he could respond or walk away in his apparent urgency to go out to prowl the city, you left instead, crossing through his living room and walking down the long hallway. You didn't hesitate when you pulled his front door behind you, too drained to stay behind for a second longer.

He didn't follow.

--------

It had been eleven days.

Eleven days and nothing.

No phone calls. No daytime drop bys at your office with a cup of coffee or an offer for lunch. No midnight hellos through windows, black clothing lit up by the moon that hung in the sky.

But you'd given him what he had perceived as an ultimatum, hadn't you? And you hadn't been the winner.

You'd always known Hell's Kitchen came first. It was something you both loved and hated about him. Long nights spent wondering if he was safe, hours spent stitching him up and putting him back together, countless tears shed when thinking about all the pain he put himself through for a city that would never truly appreciate the blood and sweat he gave for it. And all of it was worth it, if it meant his face was the first thing you saw in the morning, the first voice that said your name.

But this fight hadn't even been about Hell's Kitchen, had it? It had been about something else. It had been about him, and whatever was bothering him that he was unwilling to share with you. It had been about him not letting you in, not fully. After a year together, you thought he would have seen through the anger and panic to the real cause of your distress, rather than deflecting and getting meaner and meaner with each word carelessly thrown from his mouth.

Your fearless, reckless vigilante, whom you loved so much, had shut you out so suddenly and thoroughly without a single word as to why.

It killed you to think about it, but some part of you quickly became convinced that it had been done to distance himself from you in preparation of a break up. It was easy to see things that way when you considered his lack of affection, attention, and the way he'd let you slip out of his apartment without a word, tears slipping down cheeks heated with the exertion of begging him to fight for you.

That's what the voice in your head was telling you, at least. And with every day that went by, the voice got a little louder until it was screaming how much of an idiot you were for holding onto him. Perhaps this was the break up, now that you thought about it. Perhaps you walking out and him not following was the only ending necessary, though it seemed so anticlimactic.

His silence was so very telling. Maybe he thought no words were needed at this point.

And so you spent your waking hours doing anything and everything you could to keep your mind off of him, desperate to spend time outside of the heartbreak coursing through your veins like wild fire. You spent your days with your nose buried in your work. Deadlines you had pushed off were suddenly met way ahead of schedule. You spent your evenings catching up on your recorded TV shows, red wine in one hand, take out in the other, tissues on your coffee table in case of any unwanted appearances of tears. Your apartment was rearranged and scrubbed clean from head to toe.

Twice.

On day nine, you had placed his things in a duffle bag on the floor next to the door, ready to hand it off when, or if, he ever came by for it.

You had ignored the tears that swam in your vision as you did it.

The evening of day eleven found you in bed early, too exhausted and emotionally drained to even try to make it through your favorite ABC drama, curled up in a ball in an effort to keep as much of the world away from your, decreasing the amount of vulnerable skin that was available for bruises. Your arms were wrapped around the pillow you held to your chest, ignoring the thought that the pillow had at one point smelled like him.

You were very nearly asleep when a quiet tap sounded at your kitchen window, startling you for a quick second. You didn't have to think about what it could possibly be, the sound one that you've heard hundreds of times, though it had been absent lately.

Your heart rate spiked, as it always did when he was near, but this time it was in anxiety. It was almost embarrassing that your body reacted to him so obviously. He knew you in the most intimate way possible, each flush of your cheeks or flash of arousal lighting up a world only he would ever be able to navigate.

But tonight, you weren't really interested in him having any sort of access to you and what you were feeling.

"Go away, Matt."

Your voice was quiet, even to your own ears, but you knew he would be able to hear it all the same.

The tap sounded again, this time followed by the creak of a window that was trying to be opened from the outside. He was used to letting himself inside your apartment at night, even if only to crawl into bed next to you to drift off to sleep by your side, arms wrapped around you so tightly that you didn’t know where he ended and you began.

You could practically feel his confusion as he realized that for the first time since you had met him, the window was locked.

The tapping came again, this time louder and more insistent, and before you even knew what you were doing, you were heaving yourself out of bed and making your way into the kitchen.

You threw the window open halfway, noting vaguely that he was perched on your fire escape in black clothing, not unlike what he used to wear before the red suit, his head covered by the hood of his sweatshirt but face open and pale in the dark.

"Are you bleeding?"

Matt frowned, clearly thrown off by the question. "No."

"Are you hurt?"

"No. Why--"

"Then kindly get off of my fire escape." Your hands rose to bring the window back down, and in shock, Matt almost missed sliding his hands under to keep it open.

"Wait!" You stopped pushing the window down, not because you wanted to hear what he had to say, but because you knew your strength was no match for his. "Wait, please. Let me come in."

"No, thanks."

"We should talk, sweetheart."

Though you had spent the last few days preparing yourself for something like this, it didn't stop the cold feeling of dread that poured itself down your spine.

"There's no need, Matt," you said, making every effort to keep your voice as even as possible. "I already know what you came here to say."

"I don't think you do. Please, let me in."

"Look," you started tiredly, tugging on the braid that was resting over your shoulder. "We don't need to do this. Things aren't working out, I get it."

"That's not--"

"You've made it pretty clear that this isn't what you want anymore, and that's fine," you continued, looking away from dark eyes that were all but pleading with you, trying to avoid falling into the man who had seemingly let you walk out of his life. "It would have been nice for you to break it to me gently rather than pushing me away as violently as you did, but it doesn't matter at this point."

"Sweetheart--"

"Don't call me that."

"I didn't come here to--"

"You didn't need to come here at all. I got the point, really."

"Will you just let me talk?" he demanded loudly, yanking the window all the way up, apparently done with being outside while you were inside.

You took an automatic step backwards, leaving more than enough room between the two of you as he let himself in. As always, his presence was larger than life, and in your tiny kitchen, you found it overwhelming in a way it hadn't been before. You found yourself stepping behind the kitchen table, effectively placing it between the two of you.

You didn't miss the way Matt's body lurched in apparent grief at the motion.

An awkward silence settled between the two of you, and it seemed that Matt was struggling with what to say, despite the way he had demanded to let him speak.

"What do you want, Matt?" you asked quietly, eyes finally making their way back to his face. "I haven't been sleeping well and I'm exhausted. I'd like to go to bed."

"I needed to talk to you," he repeated, his blank, beautiful eyes aimed at your chin.

"I already said it wasn't necessary," you shrugged. The impassive tone you took was empty, but that didnt mean it was convincing. "Things got ugly, but it's over now."

"Things aren't over now," he said adamantly, moving around the table, hands lifting to reach for you. "Please, just hear me out."

"I don't...I don't really know if I want to," you said honestly, quietly. Matt flinched, and you knew it was because your heart hadn't skipped on a lie. "This went on for weeks. I gave you so many opportunities to talk to me. I begged you to talk to me. All you did was...ignore how it was hurting me. I don't want to hear whatever lame excuse you're going to come up with."

"I swear it's not an excuse," he pleaded. "I just...I just needed some time. And space."

"Sure," you shrugged again, struggling to maintain the level of calm and rational. "I can understand needing that. I don't know what was bothering you, but you didn't even give me a chance to understand. And now you're...what? Here to officially break up with me? I kind of already figured it was over, seeing as how it's been eleven--"

"Break up?" Matt looked alarmed as his eyes widened. "Is that what you think I'm here to do?"

"Nothing ever good comes from a conversation that starts with "We should talk," Matt."

He took another step around the table, and it took everything in you not to flinch away. Matt had never touched you with anything but gentle hands, and while you weren't on great terms at the moment, you didn't want him to think you were afraid of him.

"Sweetheart, that's not--"

"I love you, Matt," you told him bluntly, cutting him off with a hand raised in front of you, telling him to stop his movement in your direction. "But if the past few weeks were anything to go by, you're not willing, or maybe not able, to let me in. And I don't want to be with someone who hides so many pieces of themselves away from me. It's lonely, and I'm done with it."

He looked absolutely crestfallen, and suddenly resigned. You took a deep breath and soildered on, even as you felt your heart breaking in your chest.

"I'm sorry, Matt."

"No," he croacked out, shaking his head abruptly, eyes sightlessly dancing around the room as he licked his lips. "I'm sorry. I never meant to...have things end this way."

"It's ok." It wasn't. "There's a bag of your things over by the door." You tilted your head toward the duffle bag.

"My...things?"

"Yeah," you responded quietly, gesturing to the door with a hand that seemed limp and lifeless. "Tshirts, hoodies, your extra pair of glasses."

Matt paused for a second in surprise before he walked over to the door, a clumsy gait to his steps that you had never seen on him in the year you'd known him. With obviously shaking hands, he bent down to pick up the bag. His breathing had changed, you'd noticed. It was the breathing of someone about to have a panic attack. You grimaced, hating watching him like this.

Before, you would have comforted him. Held him and played with his hair and whispered how much you loved him in his ear.

But now, you were tired, and knowing what the past few weeks had been like, you honestly weren't sure if he'd even like having your hands on him.

He may have pushed you away first, but here you were shoving him away, too, if only to avoid any further pain on your end. Even if he didn't feel the same way about you as you did him, it was still a painful conversation for both parties.

"I'll swing by on Saturday to grab my stuff," you whispered. Matt let out a shaky sigh, accompanied by a hesitant nod of his head. "I'm going back to bed. Please shut the window behind you."

You left him standing in your kitchen, dark head bent sadly, scarred hands gripping the bag in his hands so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

-----

Saturday rolled around too quickly for your liking. You had gathered one of your large duffle bags and a backpack to take over to Matt's apartment, unsure of just how many things you had over there.

You both had been toying with the idea of you moving in, so naturally quite a bit of your things had accumulated at his place. Work clothes. Sweat pants. Shoes. Your favorite bathrobe. Little bits and pieces of you slowly blending in with his, a subconscious way of laying down the building blocks for a life together.

With a sigh, and a mournful look at the run down front door you'd come to love, you let yourself into his apartment, taking in the scent of the man who had become your rock in a life that had always felt a little unsteady. You knew that most Saturday afternoons were spent catching up on cases with Foggy at their favorite diner, so you didn't expect him to be home.

You walked down the familiar hallway to the living, but abruptly froze when you took in the sight before you, eyes widening in shock.

His place was a mess.

One of his kitchen chairs lay broken next to the wall, clearly having been thrown against it. There was a giant fist-sized hole in the wall next to his bedroom that was shaped exactly like his hand, so you didn't need to guess whose it was. The trash hadn't been taken out in days, it looked like, and beer bottles were scattered along the counter.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

It took you an hour, but you picked up and took out the trash and recycling, and scrubbed down the kitchen. Dishes were washed and put away. Counters wiped down, floor swept. He was a grown adult, more than capable of picking up after himself, but seeing his place in such disarray made you...sad.

You made your way back to where you'd dropped the duffle bag and headed into the bedroom, a place you'd spent so many nignts with him wrapped around you, beneath you, on top of you.

Hands on your hips, you ignored the way your eyes pricked with tears, and thought about where to start first.

You didn't hear the front door open and close, nor did you notice Matt's presence behind you until he called your name softly. Startled, you took a deep breath before you turned around slowly and braced yourself for the second part of a conversation you didn't want to have.

You were scared he would ask you to stay. You were even more scared that he would outright ask you to go.

"Hey."

"Hey," he echoed.

"I'll just...give me a few minutes and I'll be out of your hair. I'm almost done grabbing my stuff." Matt inhaled sharply, head tilting away from you as you spoke. With a frown of your own, you turned your back to him, walking over to the table on what had been your side of the bed.

You placed the duffle bag on the bed and continued placing items into it, not bothering to be organized or have the items be thoughtfully placed. Your extra phone charger. The book you always told yourself you'd finish reading. Your favorite necklace you always forgot you had on until you were snuggled under the covers, forced to sleepily place it on the table to avoid leaving the warmth of him next to you.

You knew you had his total focus, so you did your best not to tear up while you packed your things. This was hard enough as it was, and as much as he had hurt you, you didn't want to make things more difficult for him than it had to be.

Eyeing the shoes you had left next to his closet, you walked forward to scoop them up. They were your favorite pair of heels, and you had worn them the last time you'd gone out for a nice dinner, his hand laced tightly in yours as he helped you keep your balance on the uneven New York City sidewalks, quiet laughter and declarations of love pressed against your cheek. While you both were always, always busy, you still found a way to make time for each other as often as you could.

The thought caused you to sniffle unintentionally as your lip quivered ever so slightly. You rubbed the heels of your palms to your eyes and took a deep breath that shuddered your body on both inhale and exhale. Matt let out a soft whine behind you, and you knew without turning around that he was wanting to pull you into him. He always made that sound when he could tell you were sad and on the verge of breaking down.

Or, at least he used to want to pull you into him before the last month or so, back when he would still touch you and pour his affection and love into your skin. Now, you weren't so sure what he wanted.

"I'm fine, Matt," you told him, voice shaking. You swept up the rest of your shoes into your arms and walked them back to the duffle bag on the bed. "I'll be done here in a few."

"No."

Your head snapped up to look at him incredulously. "No?"

He shook his head adamantly, blank eyes aimed somewhere around your abdomen. "No, don't go. You can't go."

You stared at him in disbelief. "Where was this attitude when you let me just walk out without a word two weeks ago?"

Matt opened his mouth but didn't say anything, merely licking his lips and tilting his head to the side for a moment.

You sighed in disappointment, shaking your head bitterly. "That's what I thought." Using shaking hands, you zipped up the full bag and moved to leave the room.

Matt quickly blocked you, placing himself in between you and the door way, his body just a few feet from yours as his eyes settled on your chin. "Please, just hear me out."

"Matt--"

"Just give me a few minutes, okay? I need to tell you what happened."

His face was flushed with what looked to be mild panic, and you couldn't tell if it was panic at the thought of you leaving, or panic at having to let out whatever had been bothering him so much that he'd thought the best solution was to violently push you away. Maybe it was both.

You took a few steps back from him, nodding silently, as you tried to put some space in between the two of you. Placing the bag back on the bed, you crossed your arms over your chest, willing to hear him out, but not wanting to stand so close to him. This was bound to be painful, anyway you cut it, and having him within arm's reach would most likely make it worse.

"Go ahead, then. If it's just another lie, I'm walking out and never looking back."

Matt nodded jerkily, licking his lips again like he always did when he was nervous. The corner of his bottom lip was split open, and you cringed when you noticed it. Even in your pain, even in your anger, you hated seeing him hurt.

You watched as he opened his mouth and shut it a few times, as if he was still unsure if he actually wanted to speak. Your frustration grew with each second he didn't say anything, your nerves fraying more and more the longer you stood in front of him.

"If you're not gonna actually--"

"Just...hold on," he said, desperation seeping into his voice. "I'm trying to think of the best way to say what I need to say."

"Why? What could be so bad that you--"

"A woman died in my arms a few weeks ago." The words tore their way out of his mouth so suddenly that you weren't sure who was more surprised by them; him, or you. You faltered, all of your irritation and anger and bitterness in your body stumbling to a screeching stop. You looked at him, your jaw dropping in shock, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

"What?"

You'd been face to face with him for the past two minutes, but you felt like you were seeing him for the first time since you'd realized he was in the apartment with you. Your eyes took in his appearance, wincing at his bruised knuckles, a black eye that seemed to be fading, a long jagged scratch on the side of his throat. Matt looked so sad, so lost, as his sightless eyes seemingly focused on the floor next to his feet.

You had been prepared for a bullshit excuse, while still simultaneously hoping for something that would save your relationship with the only man you had ever loved. But you hadn't been expecting...this.

A shiver when down your spine as you stared at him in growing dread.

"A woman died in my arms a few weeks ago," he repeated shakily. He ran a hand through his hair anxiously, tugging at the dark strands that were ready to be cut. "I was...I was a few blocks away when I heard a man yank her into an alley, a gun in his hand."

You stared at him, horrified. You knew the sorts of things that went on while he was out. Human trafficking. Drug busts. Muggings. Assaults.

Matt didn't like talking about it most of the time, and you didn't like pressing him on it if it made him uncomfortable. But to hear something like this come ripping itself out if his mouth was extremely jarring and you found yourself terrified of what he was going to say next.

He took another deep breath.

"I heard her scream, heard how he slapped his hand over her mouth to quiet her, heard him cock the gun and dig it into her stomach." Matt was fidgeting with the zipper on his hoodie as he spoke, and a part of you longed to take your hand in his, wondering if it might calm his restlessness. You held yourself back, though, not yet trusting your feet to move you forward without stumbling to the ground.

"He demanded that she give him her purse, which she did, of course. But then he ordered her to unbutton her shirt, and she refused."

Your heart hammered in your chest, face growing paler by the second.

"She tried to push him off of her, and he got mad and...pulled the trigger. I was still a few blocks away." Matt walked forward as if he were in a trance, unfocused eyes glazed over, hands feeling around for his bed. It alarmed you that he was so distraught that he was relying on his hands alone to navigate his bedroom, the rest of his senses so wrapped up in a horrifying memory. He took a seat, sinking onto the mattress with a heavy, pained sigh.

"When I got there, I could tell she wasn't going to make it." He briefly shut his eyes in a grimace, an intense full-body shudder wracking through him. "The guy was gone, but I didn't bother going after him because I knew I needed to stay with her. Make sure she wasn't alone." The breath he took was so shaky, and you found yourself finally able to move as your forced yourself forward, kneeling at his feet once you were in front of him. Your hand was grasping his a second later, suddenly unwilling to let him relive this alone as he tore himself apart to finally let you in.

"I held her as she bled out," Matt choked out, as if it was suddenly difficult to breathe. You gripped his thigh, and did your best to rub soothing circles into the muscle that lay under his jeans. "I tried to stop the bleeding, hoping I was wrong, that she could still make it, but the blood was coming out too fast and there was nothing I could do. She was sobbing, begging me to save her, and I couldn't."

You didn't know when you had started crying, but you had to take your hand off his leg briefly to wipe your eyes to clear your vision. His hand shook in yours.

"And she..." Matt paused again, taking another deep, gasping breath. "She reminded me of you."

"What?" you asked, immediately confused, mind scrambling to comprehend what he had just said, suddenly frantic to make sense of what he had just told you. "What do you mean?"

"She reminded me of you," he repeated quietly. "Roughly the same height. Similar accent, the one that only comes out when you're upset. A blouse made of the same material you wear so often. And she...she used the same shampoo."

Matt's hand lifted to wipe at the tears on his face as he struggled to speak. "This woman I didn't know was dying in my arms. And...and even as I tried to comfort her, all I could think about was you. All I could think about was...what if you were in trouble, and I couldn't get to you in time?"

Your mind twisted and turned as realization finally hit you.

This.

This was what had been driving him away from you, this belief that he would never be the kind of man you needed. This was the root of it.

"Matt, love. I'm fine. I'm here."

"I know you are," he let out, hand still trembling in yours, and steadily getting worse. His unfocused gaze landed on your forehead, and you could see the dark circles under his eyes up close. "But even before this happened, this is something I would think about often, something I still think about often. The thought of...of not being good enough or quick enough or strong enough to stop something bad from happening to you."

Taking a deep, unsteady breath of your own, you reached your hand up to cradle his cheek, and he immediately turned his head slightly to kiss your palm, needing the affection only you could provide.

"I trust you with my life, Matt."

He nodded with his eyes closed, swallowing before he spoke. "I know you do. But this...this was so real. It was just literally staring me in the face, this idea of losing you. And while I'm panicking and thinking about you, this woman is dying in my arms. And I can't even give her my full attention to comfort her, because I'm imaging someone else dying in front of me, and I couldn’t handle it."

You made a soft, mournful noise, and unable to stop yourself, you stood up and pushed his shoulders back from where he had hunched in on himself, before settling yourself in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, with one hand reaching up to slide into his hair. With a shudder, his arms came up around you, holding you to him in a grip that you knew would leave bruises.

You'd let him leave marks all over your skin if it meant he would take even one ounce of comfort from you.

The pair of you sat in silence for a while, cheeks pressed together, trying to match your breathing to his, and vice versa. You rubbed your hand soothingly up and down his back, avoiding any areas that seemed tender. You felt a raised ridge of skin near his left hip and knew it meant he'd needed stitches recently.

You grimaced, wishing you'd been there for him, even if he hadn't wanted you to be.

"Why were you pushing me away, Matt? All I want is to be here for you," you told him gently when his breathing seemed to have settled a bit. You pulled back a bit to hold his face in your hands, where you used your thumbs to wipe away a few stray tears.

His grip tightened and he leaned into you, seemingly trying to keep as much contact with you as he could. And even while he tried to get as close to you as physically possible, you half expected him to pull away from you again. Instead, he surprised you by pushing on, at last tearing down that final barrier.

"It was hard being around you," he admitted softly. His hand reached up to massage the back of your neck, a habit he had started when he was trying to assure himself you were next to him. "I was having such awful nightmares and I didn't want you around while I slept. You sliced your finger open three weeks ago, and all I could think about was you bleeding out all over me. If I hugged you, the smell of your shampoo would bring me right back to that alley, so I started avoiding touching you. And the more you got upset, the more angry I got. But not angry at you, angry at myself for making you feel that way."

You listened quietly, ignoring how your eyes were watering, and how hard your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I was hurting. And because I was hurting, I struggled being around you, to the point where it started hurting you, too. It just became this vicious cycle that I didn't know to stop, and all of a sudden it was too late and you were walking away."

You didn't say anything as you took in what he was telling you. You continued to hold him, lips occasionally brushing over his cheek as your hands continued to run gently up and down his back.

"I'm sorry this happened," you whispered, your voice catching. "I'm sorry you went through that, I'm sorry that I got upset."

"No, sweetheart," he brought a finger up to your lips in an effort to shush you. "Don't...don't apologize. This isn't on you."

"But--"

"No," he repeated firmly. "I should have said something. I was wrong for pushing you away like that. I...I wasn't...I didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to handle it, and I took it out on you. On our relationship."

Your lip quivered. "You can't do that, Matt."

"I know."

"No, you don't know," you told him. "I'm not even talking about how it made me feel. I'm talking about you. I want you to be safe, and loved, and cared for. You deserve those things. You deserve to have someone there to hold your hand and be there for you. But I can't...I can't be there for you and help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

Matt was nodding while you spoke, eyes shut tight as he listened. You knew there was a voice in the back of his head telling you he didn't deserve those things, would never deserve them, and it broke your heart.

You tilted his head towards you and leaned in to press your lips gently to his. He let out a sigh as he brought a hand up to grasp your cheek.

"I'll always fight for you, Matt." He let out a shaky breath at your vow. "I'll always fight for you. Even if I'm fighting you against you. But I...I need you to fight for me, too. Okay? You can't let me walk out that door again. I need to know you're not going to just push me away like that again. You can yell and cry and ask me for anything, everything you need. But don't let me go."

"I won't, I won't do that again," he promised as he continued to stroke your check with his thumb. "I should never have let that happen. And I should have never waited so long to come after you. I love you."

You kissed him again, a little firmer this time, but no less tender. "I love you, too."

Silence took over again as you continued to sit there. You focused on the way his hand was now running up and down your arm gently, while the other brushed at your hip from where it was wrapped around you. Cradling his face in your hands, you placed a series of kisses on his face; his eyelids, his forehead, his cheeks. With each kiss, you felt a sliver of tension bleed away from him, until at last he seemed to sag in relief.

You eyed the duffle bag that was still on his bed, grateful that he had come home when he did so that you could have this talk. You weren't sure how you would have handled living in a world without him by your side. It had only been a year, but you knew this was something you wanted for the rest of your life. Knew that he was someone you wanted for the rest of your life.

You were willing, oh so willingly, to do whatever this man needed, whatever he asked of you.

Glancing at the bathroom door, an idea came to you. An idea that might be a good place to start, no matter how small and insignificant it would seem. Without much thought, you decided to act on it, desperate to help him in whatever way you could.

"Let me go, Matt." You gently pushed against the arms that held you to him.

"What? Why?" You didn't miss the way the panic seeped into his voice.

"Just...let go. Let me get up." Confused, he slowly and reluctantly released you. You leaned down to kiss his forehead, before standing up and walking towards the bathroom. You heard him get up behind you.

"Where are you going?" You knew him well enough to hear the anxiety creeping in, this time more insistent. You turned around, kicking off your shoes as you did so. Your shirt was pulled off and thrown to the floor at his feet, and your pants soon followed.

"I figured we'd start with a shower."

"A...shower?"

"Yes. You're going to help me wash my hair until you can't smell my shampoo any longer, and then you're going to keep talking to me and let me cuddle you the rest of the afternoon. You coming?"

For the first time in weeks, the tiniest hint of a smile appeared on his face, though it was brief and utterly bewildered, as his own shirt hit the floor. Matt stil look bemused, but he went along with your idea. He took a few hesitant steps forward until he was right in front of you.

Rough hands gripped your cheek, pushed your hair back behind your ears, and tilted your head forward so that he could place a gentle kiss to your forehead. With a soft sigh, he reached down to grasp your hand, and you let him pull you into the bathroom.

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock angst

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here-lies-they-ran-outta-luck · 9 months ago

Note

HIIII I wanna request something with draco mafoy x reader where he's nervous for him and readers first kiss

Short (Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader)

Warnings- use of Y/n, kissing, flirting, Fuckboy!Draco, they're cute Word count- 688 A/n- I had a lot of fun writing this and am actually really proud of it, thank you so much for the request, I hope you like it!

“How far have you and Y/l/n gone?” Mattheo says, taking a big puff of his cigarette.

“We- well- we haven't really gone anywhere,” Draco responds, choking a little bit on the fire whisky he was drinking.

“You seriously haven’t even kissed her? That’s a new one for you,” Pansy says, snorting loudly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asks, putting down his drink and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Well you know how you are with girls,” Pansy replies, shrugging at the blonde.

“Y/n isn’t just another girl though, I don’t want her to think that I’m just using her for sex or whatever,” Draco says, crossing his arms and sitting back.

“But it’s been a month,” Theo says, joining the conversation, “how do you think that Y/n feels knowing that usually you kiss girls during the first week but it’s taken you almost two to kiss her?”

“You guys are being ridiculous, she knows I like her… right?” Draco says, suddenly second guessing his current relationship. Draco spends the rest of the night contemplating how to kiss Y/n. He hasn’t admitted it to anyone but he’s definitely nervous about kissing Y/n, she’s not like all the other girls he’s slept with and kissed. She’s Y/n Y/l/n.

“Good morning Dray,” Y/n exclaims, sitting next to the blonde, “Did you and your friends have fun last night?”

“I think it would have been a better time if I’d been with you,” he replies, giving the pretty girl a smirk.

“Well what are your plans for the rest of today?” The girl asks, blushing at the blonde's comment.

“I thought that maybe you and I could hang out later? Before dinner maybe?” He asks, glancing towards a smirking Mattheo.

“Oh I would love that!” Y/n responds, her face lighting up ever so slightly, then she stands up, “I’m gonna go to Herbology, I promised Neville I’d help him.” Draco only smiles and waves at the girl.

“Please tell me you’re finally going to kiss her,” Lorenzo, Y/n’s best friend says, his mouth full of bacon, “She won’t stop talking about wanting you to kiss her.”

“Does she really?” Draco says, raising his eyebrows, “She knows I like her right?” Lorenzo nods in reply, shoving more bacon into his mouth. Draco smirks looking down at his plate.

Draco being who he is decided he would spend the rest of the day mentally preparing himself to kiss the beautiful girl he’s been pining over since 4th year.

“Hello beautiful,” Draco says, opening Y/n’s dorm room, sitting on the foot of her bed.

“Hello Dray, did you have anything specific in mind?” The girl asks, scooting over so the boy could be closer to her.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” He says after a couple seconds of silence, pulling the girl into his side.

“Talk to me about what?” she replies, turning towards Draco, a look of fear quickly flashing over her features before she masks it with a closed-lip smile.

“You know that I like you right?” He says, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well I like you too, Draco,” Y/n replies, giving him a shy smile.

“I really like you, though,” he says, cupping her cheek and pulling her closer to him, “and you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

“You’re just saying that,” she replies, laying her head more into his soft palm.

“I can promise you, I am not just saying that,” He says, leaning closer to her, brushing their lips together.

“I think that I want to kiss you,” Y/n says quietly, leaning further into Draco's warm and welcoming lips, putting her hand on his firm chest. He pecks her lips softly before pulling away and leaning back into her, giving her multiple more pecks.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t kiss you sooner, love,” Draco says, pulling away and leaning his forehead on hers, “You mean so much to me.”

“You, Draco Malfoy, are the most amazing guy I have ever met,” She says, closing their lips together again.

#draco malfoy x reader #slytherin boys #lorenzo berkshire x reader #theodore nott x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanart #harry potter

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billthedrake · 5 months ago

Text

RECONNECTING WITH BRODIE

Mmm... that feels nice, bro.

Bring it in Brodie... your Matt's got you. There... lean back against me.

(chuckles) You're sweaty.

We're both sweaty.

Hm, didn't know you could get like that going slow.

Slow and long, buddy. We were at it almost an hour. That's why.

(Pause) I sometimes wish Dad would go slow. Usually, it's... I wish I could tell him to go slow.

(sound of a hand patting tight abs) You can, Brode. You should.

(sigh) I know. I just want it to feel good for him. It's weird but now that we're boyfriends, I dunno....

Boyfriends talk about shit. You should tell him.

(more resolved) I will.

(soft kiss to the head) You're all jacked Brodie... when did you get so big?

Since last Spring. Been working on it. You guys should come to visit more often.

I know. It's complicated.

I know. I just miss you guys. Dad does too.

I'll be back for your graduation. I'm sure Connor will, too.

Hmmm.... I like the way you touch me, Matt.

I can't stop feeling you up.

Then don't.

You OK with me shacking up with you tonight, buddy?

Oh yeah. I figured that was going to be the arrangement. You know, with Dad and Connor having their date night.

Doesn't mean you have to like the arrangement, Brode. You OK with them together?

I'm not jealous. And Dad... well, he kind of encourages me to be with other guys.

Have you?

A couple, yeah.... Damn, Matt, whatever you're doing with your hands is boning me the fuck up again. Already.

Connor doesn't like this... after he cums, he's done.

Dude, he's missing the best part.

(chuckles) Maybe you should tell him that.

I fucking will. Seriously, Matt, you should became a masseur or something.

I have a day job already.

I know, I'm just saying.... mmm, a little lower, oh fuck, right there.... making my cock leak and you're not even touching it.

So Brodie, be real with me bro... how's the boyfriend thing working out?

I know I seem messed up, Matt, but it's been mindblowingly awesome.

Doesn't seem like this bed's been slept in much.

Bro, I haven't slept in my own room since I got grounded.

(laugh) Dad grounded you?

(laugh) Yeah, back in the summer. For breaking curfew. Three fucking weeks. He thought he had to act all paternal, you know.

How was that?

Dude, I was pissed. And we were fucking blue balled for three weeks. The make up sex was pretty intense, though. Kind of made it worth it.

Yeah?

Oh yeah. Only time I think I really loved it hard.

Jesus.

You're getting bricked again, Matt. I can feel that big cock against my back.

(soft kiss to the head) Just hearing my little brother talk like that is wild.

Huh. I think that's why I wanna get big. So you guys will stop thinking about me as little.

(Pats chest) It's not about size, Brodie.

I know, Matt. Still, I wanna get big. Bigger than Dad eventually.

Bro, I'm bigger than Dad. He's solid, but he doesn't lift.

I'm surprised you ended up with Connor, actually.

I love Connor's body. But it's more than that.

Yeah?

He's my brother, like you Brodie. But we've always been especially tight. Grew up together. And maybe I go for the smart ones. (chuckles)

That's cool. I guess go for the strong, silent type. Connor probably does too.

He does. (scoots) Here, let's shift a little.... much better, Brodie.

(soft kisses)

Fucking nice.

Yeah, Brode... fucking nice.

Man... your fucking arms are insane.

Connor likes 'em.

I bet he does. Fuck.

Brodie... I don't wanna be the older brother who's always lecturing you, but life is more than muscles you know.

(chuckles) Easy for you to say.

(smiles) Well, feel em all you want, buddy.

I will.

(More kissing. Deeper, longer)

You're so hard, Matt.

Guess I have a fresh pump from my workout this afternoon,

No, I mean your cock.

Oh yeah, it's been like that the last fifteen minutes. I got my stud little bro in bed with me.

I'm not little, Matt.

You're not. 6'5" (kiss) tight end body (kiss) D1 ready.

Hmmm.

You ready to break some hearts at Stanford, bro? (kiss)

I'm a little in denial actually.

Bro, that letter of intent is signed. Big fucking accomplishment.

I know. I mean about going off.

(sigh) You gotta, Brodie. Gotta leave the nest. Become your own man.

I know.

You know... Dad's gonna have empty nest syndrome like crazy. You can probably get your way for the next few months.

Yeah? (chuckles) No more being grounded?

No more being grounded.

Shame, I'll miss the make up sex.

Dude, homecoming sex is just as good.

Fuck.

(wet kissing)

You think that's what Connor's going to feel tonight?

I know that's what Connor's going to feel.

He's probably not going to tell Dad to go softer, is he?

Knowing Connor... no, no he won't. But don't compare yourself to him, Brode. Him or anyone else.

I guess.

You're Dad's favorite, buddy. He worships the ground you walk on.

Yeah. Matt... you wanna fuck me again?

You know I do Brode. But let's take our time. We got all night.

You must think I'm an impatient kid.

You're a horny fucker. I like that.

(kissing)

Jesus, Matt. I'm gonna try this out with Dad.

Try what, bro?

The whole slow thing. I'm so fucking horny with you.

(kissing)

I can only imagine what this would feel like with Dad.

Tell him, Brode. Make it happen.

I totally will.

(kissing)

Jesus, Matt, I fucking love your muscle. My big brother.

You're fucking jacked for 18, bro.

Mmm... does Connor get into it?

Yeah he does.

Does you guys, you know, ever do any worship stuff?

You mean body worship? (softer) We've done that.

Hot. (softer) I wanna ask Dad to try that too.

(chuckles)

You think I'm weird.

Hardly. I'm just picturing Dad doing a worship session with you.

He's not very verbal.

No he's not. I think I heard him say 10 words all through high school.

(laughs) Come on, Matt... he's not that bad.

I exaggerate. But not much.

(kissing)

(ooof)

Fuck yes.

You like that buddy?

I love you on top of me, Matt. How much you weigh?

250.

2-fucking-50. Fuck.

Does Dad know you curse like a sailor.

(laughs) He once grounded me for that, too.

I remember that. You were testing his authority.

Dad doesn't like that.

No, he doesn't.

Thought I was gonna get whipped, too.

Dad wouldn't do that.

I know. But fuck, I really thought he was gonna get the belt, he was so mad.

Brodie, you called him the c-word. In front of Mom.

I was there, remember? We laugh about it now.

Mmmm... feel my arms stud. You like those.

Yessir.

(kissing)

Damn, Matt.

Damn, yourself. Someone taught you how to kiss.

Yeah. Dad.

You're a better kisser than him, bro. For real.

(more kissing)

How do you think date night is going?

Sure you're not jealous, Brode?

Sure I'm sure.

Connor misses Dad. A lot.

You don't?

I do, too. But...

I know... it's complicated.

(kissing)

OK if I tease the hole a little Brode?

You gotta ask?

Sometimes it can get uncomfortable keeping your legs spread.

(smirks) Sounds like you speek from experience, Matt.

Some. Tried it but realized bottoming wasn't for me.

Dad?

Dad. And a couple of dudes in Chicago. Never felt good.

For what it's worth you're an amazing top, bro.

Thanks. I have some amazing inspiration beneath me.

Oh fuck, you're big.

You took me just now, Brodie.

I did. That was thirty minutes ago.

Who's counting?

Fuck.

Easy buddy, just gonna work it in and out.

That big brother cock.

Yep, that big brother cock. In my little bro's tight hole.

I'm not little, Matt.

(smiles) And you're not gonna be tight when I'm done.

Jesus.

(heavy breathing)

Connor's one lucky dude.

Mmmmh....

Hope that wasn't the wrong thing to say.

I can take a complement.... gonna go in with more.

Please.

Goddamn, that jock hole is amazing. So wet....

That's all you, Matt.

I can see why Dad has you sleep in his bed each night. Fuck.

He doesn't make me, bro. I wanna.

I know.

Jesus, how much did I cum?

You don't know?

(laughs) I thought I did. But fuck... (choked grunt)

Why'd you stop?

Shhhh...

(whispers) Is that them?

(whispering back) Yeah.

(kissing)

(quiet) They're gonna fuck.

Yeah Brode, they will.

So fucking hot.... you in me, while Dad bones C.

Shit...

That turns you on too.

Hell yes it does.

I can tell. You're rock hard inside me. Alive.

If I tell you something will you keep it a secret, Brode?

Course.

If Dad asked me on date night while I was here, I'd say yes in a heartbeat.

God you guys are so fucking stubborn.

I inherited his worst traits, Brodie.

And his best.... oh fuck me, man.

Like this?

Yeah, just like that. So fucking nice.... I don't know how you even go so slow.

It's because it turns you on.

You like me whoring out for you?

I don't like that word.

Sorry.

You don't have to apologize. I just don't like my little brother thinking of himself that way.

Unng.... deeper, man.

Ummmf.

Yeah. Fuck me.

Your voice even gets deeper when I fuck you Brode.

Just fucking shove it in me already, bro.

Slow, remember?

(laughs) You're killing me.

Like that.... yeah... you feel it.

God!

I wanna get us both there, bro.

You're gonna, Matt.

Feel me up, Brode. Feel my muscle while I fuck you.

You're bottoming out now.

I'm bottoming out.... I'm not as big as Dad.

You're big enough. Fuck.

You're a firecracker, bro.

Goddamn, Matt. I love this.

Me, too, buddy. Hang on.

Oh fuck... oh fuck.

Turns out I have more than one speed, little bro.

Fuck me, Matt!

Huhnng.... they're gonna hear us Brode.... they're gonna hear me fuck you.

FUCK ME!

You naughty fucker. Hot fucking ass.

So wet. I can feel your dick sliding in and out.

My cum. It's frothing up.

Dude, you're fucking railing me. Stirring it up.

Ung... ungh... ungh...

Matt, just fucking cum... Fucking cum up my hole.

Almost there, bro.... too fucking hot.

Fuck me like Dad fucks me.

Jesus. FUCKK!

YESS!!

(heavy breathing) God.... that was....

Stay in me bro... like that... saw that brother dick in and out while I stroke...

Go for it bro.... Your Matt's got ya.

Yes... oh, I'm gonna.... oh yeah... oh fuck... SHIT!

Stud!.... shit, that's a big load.

(laughs) Jesus, yeah. Guess the slow thing really works one up.

OK if I pull out?.... whoa I wasn't kidding... you're all frothed up, bro. Like a...

You were gonna say 'whore' right?

I wouldn't call you that, Brodie. But fuck...

We're even sweatier now.

Got my cardio in that's for sure.... damn these sheets are fucking soaked.

Maybe I should change them. Put these in the wash.

You're not doing a damn thing. Just relax. Bottom's prerogative.

Dude, is that even a thing?

(chuckles) For me it is. A man puts out like that, I'm taking clean up duty. OK?

OK.

(kissing)

Damn. Dad definitely didn't teach you how to kiss like that.

You haven't kissed him in a while, Matt.

I know. Still.... my brother's got game.

(smiles)

Where are the clean sheets? I'll go get them.

Wait a second, OK?

What's wrong?

Nothing's wrong. I just royally fucked twice. I wanna hold the man who did the honors for a second. OK?

Mmmh... yeah. Sorry. How's this?

Perfect.

(kissing)

You know, Connor chastises me for not being romantic enough sometimes.

You guys bicker a lot?

Our fair share. It's been more since Connor moved in with me.

I keep waiting for me and Dad to get like that.

Whaddya mean?

You know... argue... like a real couple.

Dude, he fucking grounded you.

(shrugs) Yeah, he was being Dad, though. That's different.

(kissing)

Mmm, nice...

I'll say.

You know... I think you should tell him, Matt.

Tell who? What?

Tell Dad you wanna go on a date. You guys are here, what? Three more days?

Bro, it's fucking Christmas.

So?

All right. (light slap on flesh) OK... time to change these sheets. They're fucking drenched.

You're totally going to listen in to see if you can hear Dad and Connor, aren't you?

(laughs) Maybe.

(chuckles) OK, perv. I'm gonna shower off. Maybe you can make me a midnight snack while you're out there. You know, bottom's prerogative.

You got it, Brode. And breakfast, lunch, and dinner tomorrow, too. Just now... that was frickin' incredible.

I agree, Matt.

#drakestories

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whydoyoucare866 · 10 months ago

Text

The Night We Met

PAIRINGS:

Titans! Jason todd x reader

SUMMARY:

Bruce has taken in Jason Todd as his youngest son and the new robin some months ago, Bruce's goddaughter also came back to Gotham after being away for a year.

Some months after meeting Jason she starts a friends with benefits relationship with him, suddenly Jason has to move to the Titans tower and two weeks later Bruce sends her too, but, why is Jason ignoring her and acting like he doesn't know her and why does it get worse when Rose Wilson arrives to the tower??

A/N: I finally figured out a song to base this chapter off, I’m sorry I went so off with their conversation and didn’t really get anywhere with it, I just really want them to bond and I don’t think ahead of writing I just start and see where it takes me, I know this can be really boring but I want this to be a LONG fic and a slow burn and that can’t happen if the whole plot happens in two chapters so bare with me please!

TWS: slow burn, angst, blood, canon violence, mentions of death, anxiety, jealousy, friends to friends with benefits to enemies to lovers?, maybe death of a main character (haven't decided yet) change of plot

Keep in mind that English is not my first language, I also know nothing about guns, human anatomy or fighting in the language so I'm sorry if I make a lot of mistakes

Gif credits to Titanstv on Pinterest

Story Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You felt a throbbing pain in your head and started slowly opening your eyes and becoming aware of your surroundings, you were trying to figure out how long you had slept for since according to the sky it was night now and you didn't know if it was the next day now or if you had just slept some hours, now that you think of it, you didn't actually remember falling asleep either, well thats what happens when you cry too much after not sleeping for two days i guess, you decided that you would really love a glass of water right now and started making your way to the kitchen, you hoped no one was awake or at home, after your whole emotional moment with Bruce and Alfred you realized how embarrassing it had been to cry your heart out in front of someone who did not even know you and how much of a big deal you had made things that seriously were not that deep, then you cried more of embarrassment, and then you realized how much of a baby you were being, and realized you were really sleep deprived and really needed some sleep.

You arrived to the kitchen and just as luck would have it, there was no other than Jason Todd, the guy who had to awkwardly witness a girl he didn't know sob her eyes out but while thinking about it you realized that making it a bigger deal than it was would only make it actually embarrassing and would probably ruin any chance of friendship with that guy so you decided that you would let it go and it had never happened.

Jason didn't acknowledge you at all, he was too concentrated on eating what he had cooked for himself earlier and honestly he didn't seem like a very social guy so you just let him be.

You reached for a glass but then decided that maybe you should grab a thermos so you could bring it to your room and not have to make your way over to the kitchen every time you were thirsty, the noise made Jason acknowledge you but he just gave you a nod while he looked at you and you just returned it, you went to fill the water and you could still feel Jason staring at you, the environment was really awkward and Jason looked like he wanted to say something, or maybe he just wanted you to leave, well, this was your chance to talk to him, if he didn't want to talk to you back then you would just let him be, no harm in trying to make friends in your own home.

"Aren't you supposed to be out there with Bruce?" you asked him

He shook his head and pointed to his ribcage "got stabbed, Bruce wouldn't allow me to go back out there"

"Huh, how'd you get stabbed?" you asked not being bothered by it, you were used to these kind of things

"Harley" he said nonchalantly

"Oh" you said and nodded at him

"Mhm"

"I thought she hadn't been active in a while?" I said, Dick had told me before he left Bruce that Harley hadn't made an appearance in almost a year and it looked like she might want redemption.

"Yeah but Joker was put back in Arkham some months ago, we thought they had broken up but turns out it was just an act and she was just plotting something to try and get him out or get revenge or something like that, and well i may be skilled but Harley is Harley" he said taking bites of his food.

"Yeah I get you, even I am scared of going against Harley"

"You are? haven't you beaten her like a lot of times?"

"Yeah but miss girl is not just crazy and skilled but she's also in LOVE like not cutesy love, but maniac love that's a dangerous combination" you said in an exaggerated way to get your point across.

"I wouldn't call that love" he said while shaking his head before taking another bite of his food which you had no idea what it was.

"Then what would you call it?"

"Obsession I guess, she's like obsessed with him, she would throw herself against chemicals that will probably kill her if he asked for it... oh wait she already did"

"Yeah, poor girl would give her life for someone who just manipulates her and uses her”

"I mean yeah, but I wouldn't call her poor she's still a psycho" he shrugged.

"Maybe, but she's in love, even if you wouldn't call it that i think i would, its not a healthy love but she just loves him in a really obsessive unhealthy way, also if you see it in a way, we are psychos as well" i say before taking a sip of my water.

"What do you mean?" he asked as he sipped what must be coffee from a mug and looked at me curiously.

"Well, what kind of people just beats up other people every night?"

"Well yeah, but we only beat criminals and people who deserve it, they actually kill" he said trying to defend his point.

"I mean, yeah they may kill and we don't, but what's worse? dying or being paralyzed and basically tortured for life?"

"What do you mean?" he frowned and tilted his head a bit, he was intrigued in the conversation now.

"Well do you honestly think everyone will just be fine after being thrown around and beaten up until the point where you know if you give one more punch they'll die? I mean even professional fighters get brain paralysis or quadriplegic or like vegetative state from a bad blow and they have like precautions in those fights, now imagine in a fight where there's no precautions and the only stop sign is either them going unconscious or them not being able to move or them being a step away from death keep in mind that the criminals that you beat sometimes aren't trained or don't even know how to fight like regular thieves and shit, im obviously not talking about criminals like Ivy or Harley and stuff and a lot of the vigilantes have actually killed at least one person, maybe not intentionally but yeah" I explained to him.

"Huh, I guess if you think about it like that you're right" he nodded and took one last bite out of his plate

"Of course I am, I"m always right" I smiled at him

"Sure you are" he rolled his eyes in a playful way and stood up to wash his dirty dishes.

"I am!" I say pretending to be offended

"Uh huh, whatever you say" he smiled at me, "well, uhm its pretty late and I guess I should try to get some sleep, so see you tomorrow, I guess" he said before starting to head out of the kitchen.

"Sure, goodnight" I said to him.

"Night" He replied before finally leaving the kitchen.

taglist:

@fairyeoll @singitoutgirl26 @mad-die45 @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @pariahsparadise

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themultifandomgal · 1 year ago

Text

Connor Rhodes- Your Pregnant

Trigger warning- emetophobia (talks about throwing up and feeling nausea. Not in a lot of detail).

Having children wasn't originally something I though would happen for me. At the age of 31 I broke up with my cheating boyfriend then at 32 I fell in love with Connor after meeting him at Mollys. At that point I thought I would be to old by the time we both wanted children. Connor and I quickly moved in together, and are now engaged to be married in the next year.

Today I've been suffering from a headache on and off. I have also been super tired and at times nauseous. Thankfully I've had today off work so I've just been sleeping on the couch.

I sit up rubbing my face when I hear the door open then close

"Babe?" I hear Connor call out to me

"In here" I look up and see Connor frown at me. He walks over and places his hand on my forehead

"You ok? You look pale"

"Yeah just not been feeling good today"

"Why don't you head up to bed and I'll bring up some anti sickness meds with something to eat and drink"

"Ok" I get up and leave the living room to go upstairs to mine and Connors bedroom.

After getting changed and into bed Connor brings up some crackers, water and anti sickness meds

"You need you to eat these first then you can take the tablets"

"Thanks" I take the crackers and take a small bite. This goes on till I have finished and take the anti sickness tablets

"Get some rest. Hopefully you'll feel better in the morning"

The following morning I don't feel better, in fact for the next week I spend it tired, nauseous and throwing up. I obviously just think it's a bug I've picked up from somewhere. Connor and I are currently in bed, I'm reading a book while he's on his phone. All of a sudden I feel urge to throw up. Dropping my book on the bed next to me, I get up and run to mine and Connors shared bathroom. Just making it. The whole time Connor is holding my hair and rubbing my back

"How are you feeling now?" Connor asks me

"Fine. The nauseas gone now. Im just super tired like I've not slept enough. Think it must be a bug"

"You've been tired and sick all week. You're breasts have grown. Maybe your pregnant" I give Connor a look as if to say 'seriously?'

"I'm not pregnant"

"Are you sure because we haven't been very carful recently"

"Connor I'm not pregnant. I'm due for my period, that explains my boobs being bigger. You know I get nauseous when I'm about to come on"

"For a day yeah but not a week. Babe I think you need to take a test. I really think your pregnant"

"Babe I'm not pregnant"

"Why? We have sex, your not on the pill. And don't tell me your too old to get pregnant, your 33. A lot of woman get pregnant in their 30s now"

"Surely I would know if I'm pregnant"

"Not necessarily. Look why don't we go to bed and sleep. Then tomorrow I'll go and get some tests"

"Fine"

"You want an anti sickness tablet before we go to sleep?" Connor asks me. I shake my head and get back into bed, almost immediately falling asleep.

The following day Connor grabs some pregnancy tests for me. I take them to the bathroom, pee on all of them and wait for 5 minutes while sat on the toilet seat and Connor is sat on the edge of the bath. When my phone goes off I look at all of the pregnancy tests... positive

"Well?"

"We're having a baby" I say almost in shock

"Your pregnant?" I nod my head responding to Connor "I'm gonna be a dad?"

"Yeah"

"We're gonna be parents!" Connor yells excitedly. I get up off the toilet smiling as Connor then lifts me up in the air kissing all over my face causing me to giggle "you are going to be an amazing mom"

"And your gonna be wonderful dad. I can't believe we're going to be parents"

"I'm so happy. I love you so much YN"

"I love you too"

#one chicago #one chicago imagine #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x y/n #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes x you #connor rhodes imagine

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number1mingyustan · 2 years ago

Text

Habit (part iv.) —k.sy

GIF by chogiwapadada

fuckboy!hoshi x fem!reader

Genre: fwb au, college au, fuckboy au, angst, smut

Warnings: cursing, kissing, marking, fingering (f.), multiple orgasms, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie, so much el oh vee ee

Word Count: 4.2k

part i. part ii. part iii.

_______________________________________________

(a/n: i really thought i was going to have this done yesterday, but i didn’t and i lowkey think it’s kinda rushed so i may go back and edit it a bit)

Kwon Soonyoung was a giver. He gave and he gave and he gave, but it wasn't always enough. He put his best foot forward in everything he did. Whether it was someone or something he was interested in, he put so much effort into it.

It was odd though because he gave so much until he'd reach a wall that he put up himself. He couldn't quite verbalize why he is the way he is and it frustrated him.

When Soonyoung danced, he put his all into it. He was light on his feet and never missed a beat. His movement was sharp yet fluid and graceful. It didn't matter how difficult the choreo was or how familiar he was with the dance style, he was going to do the best he could.

He didn't start to feel insecure about his dancing until he graduated. It was always something he loved and made him feel free. He realized he wanted to take it seriously, but there was a wall in his way.

While he managed to convince his parents to support him, he felt obligated to do better. Every move he made needed to be perfect or it wasn't good enough. If it wasn't good enough for them, it wasn't good enough for him.

And then there was you.

Fuck.

Never had he experienced anything like the relationship the two of you had before. He'd done the friends-with-benefits thing before, plenty of times. But with you, it was different. Once your friendship shifted to something more, you were enough for him.

He hadn't slept with anyone besides you. He didn't see the point of entertaining other girls when he had you. He was always big on aftercare, but spending all that money to door dash a meal? You were the only girl he'd spend nearly 50 bucks for just because you wanted a burger. He played board games with you and watched movies after sex. He spent so much time with you and started to grow attached.

He’d spend hours and hours with you, and he loved it. But your time together was always cut short at the end of the night.

It was a habit he couldn't quite bring himself to break.

He really wanted to, but he couldn't. Spending the night made it all feel too real. He'd said at the beginning that your relationship would be a 'no feelings' thing, and to him spending the night felt like he was admitting he broke that rule.

Soonyoung had a lot of bad habits. He slept around a lot, he ignored his emotions, he doubted himself often, and he rarely communicated anything deeper than surface level.

They weren’t all bad though, he had his good habits too. He knew when to prioritize his studies, he danced to deal with his stress, it was an outlet for him to acknowledge and deal with anything on his heart or mind. When he cared about people, he cared a lot, almost too much to the point where it might have been one of his bad habits.

But his best habit of all, well that had to be you. Aside from the mind blowing sex, you brought out a good side in him. He wasn’t a bad person by any means, but he was a whole lot better when he was with you.

And for him, these past few weeks have been like hell without you.

___________

To say you've been living your best life for these past few weeks would be anything but the truth. You've spent the majority of your time with your head buried in your books.

You've started to prioritize your academics and almost completely isolated yourself. Nai's been trying to get you to go out more, but you refuse.

You go to class, the library, and to bed. It wouldn't be such a bad thing for you to prioritize your academics, however, you haven't been yourself lately. School and studying have become something you've done to kill time, not because your academic life has been in any sort of trouble.

And it serves as a great distraction.

Economics projects aren't as fun when you work alone. Yeah, the grade is good because all you seem to do now is homework, but it wasn't like your grades were bad before anyway.

Nai worried about you, but she understood you were hurting and healing. She gave you the space you needed, but also the comfort.

So much so that she managed to convince you to go out to a party tonight. She promised to stay by your side as long as you wanted company and assured you a social setting would be good,

You resisted of course but soon came to realize she was right. You couldn't just mope around for the rest of your life over something that could have been. You're far from ready to put yourself back out there romantically, but a party couldn't hurt all that much, right?

The house is loud and overcrowded, as expected. Nai pulls you through the crowd of people toward the kitchen. Pushing past sweaty bodies with loud music blasting your ears was not really what you needed. And of course, by the time you actually make it to the kitchen, there's no more alcohol left.

Nai sighs, "Damn it."

"I'm going home," you tell her.

She holds onto you by your arm. "No! You need to get out of our room, I'm not going to let you rot in there any longer. This is for your own good Y/n."

You roll your eyes. "There's nothing to drink, it's loud as hell, and this house is beyond overcrowded. I'm taking an uber back to our dorm."

Nai doesn't let you go. "And do what? Sleep? At 10 pm? Study? You don't have any exams coming up. I know things are fucked up because of Soonyoung, but we're still young! I'm not going to let you rot away before we turn 21."

You sigh.

"I'm sure there's someone here you can talk to," Nai offers.

"I don't really want to talk to anyone Nai," you frown.

She stares are you silently. She's thinking, contemplating whether or not she should say something to do. "Fine, let's just have fun on our own."

If your night out wasn't already bad enough, you ended up completely third wheeling. You appreciate Nai for keeping her promise about staying by your side, you really do. But when she's also spending every moment with Seokmin as well, it's not as much fun for you.

She's trying to include you in their conversation, but it's forced. You get along with Seokmin, and you've become good friends as well, but you feel somewhat like a burden.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you excuse yourself. "I'll be back."

Instead of going to the bathroom, you decide to make your way outside. In the backyard, it's relatively quiet. You slide the door closed behind you and walk over to one of the plastic chairs bordering the pool.

There’s a couple leaning against the side of the house making out, but you pay them no mind. Nai was right about how you needed to get out of the house, it’s nice, but you’d rather be alone while doing it.

For the first time in weeks, your mind is clear. It's a little chilly outside, but nothing you couldn't handle. You bask in the outside air. The stars are shining bright above you in the night sky. You admire the world around you, not a single thought in your head.

No school, no Soonyoung, nothing.

What's only a few short moments of bliss feels like an eternity until the sliding of the door catches your attention. You turn your head to the side.

Oh.

Soonyoung.

Your heart drops, then starts beating rapidly. Fuck, he’s actually here standing in front of you. You should've known he'd be here. Just because you didn't see him with Seokmin you shouldn't have assumed he wasn't there, he never missed a party.

Your heart is beating out of your chest so loud, you fear he can actually hear it. You're happy to see him as much as you don't want to admit it. You've missed him so much even after everything that went down.

“Shorty?” he asks.

The familiar nickname brings butterflies to your stomach. He knows you said to stop calling you that, but it’s just what you are to him. Call it muscle memory, call it love, but you’ll always be Shorty to him.

“Soonyoung,” you breathe out.

He scratches the back of his head nervously. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll go back inside, I didn’t know you were out here. I just wanted some fresh air but I- I’ll just go.”

Don’t.

Stay. Please.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him simply. “I kind of wanted to talk to you anyway.”

You swear something lights up in his eyes. A flash of hope and excitement. You don't know where your sudden confidence stems from, but all you know is that you missed him and now he's here in front of you.

“Really?” he questions.

You nod. “Yeah, I think a conversation between us is long overdo. Can we leave though? I’d rather talk somewhere else.”

Soonyoung is trying so hard to contain his excitement. You really want to talk to him. He doesn’t even care if you’re about to tell him you never want to see him again, he’s just so happy to see you.

His Shorty.

He contemplated not showing up to this party and now he couldn’t be happier that he did. Whether you’re giving him another chance or not, he’s going to do his best not to screw it up. You mean too much to him not to put in his effort.

"Do you want to come back to my dorm?"

For the first time ever, Soonyoung has actually invited you back to his dorm. His home, where he can’t be the one to leave you if shit happens.

“Yeah.”

The walk to his dorm is a quiet one, but thankfully quick. He walks slightly ahead of you, although he can't stop himself from turning back every couple of minutes. He has to remind himself you're really there.

He leads you up to the third floor and into his room.

"Did you want anything to drink? There's water and soda in the fridge." he offers.

"No thanks, I'm good," you say quietly. You're standing in the middle of the room looking around curiously. He's realizing, you've never actually been here before. He feels a bit guilty, you seeing his dorm is long overdue.

"You can sit down y'know," he says.

You nod, taking off your shoes and making yourself comfortable on his bed. You hold your knees up to your chest with your arms wrapped around your legs securely. Your back is against the gray wall behind his bed.

He sits on his bed, leaning against the wall as well. He's sure to leave plenty of space between you two. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. He wants to be careful, can't risk messing things up between you more.

"Can you talk to me now? Honestly?" he starts.

You sigh. There's a bit of silence as he stares at you. He can tell you're trying to gather your thoughts and find a way to tell him what you want to say.

"You said that you and I were going to be a 'no feelings thing.' And at first, I was okay with it, but the more time I spent with you, I started to realize that wasn't really the case anymore. And I got scared you were just going to end things with me because I caught feelings."

He's shocked, yet relieved at your sudden confession. He digs his nails into the palm on his hand to stop himself from saying something about your confession.

"What made you think I would do that to you?" he questions.

"Everything, Soonyoung," you breathe out. "You told me about your ex and how much she hurt you. And since then, you've been good at the whole sex with no strings thing. I had no reason to believe you felt the same way that I did about you. I wanted to have a relationship with you and be your girl, and for fuck's sake have you spend the night every once in a while. What else was I supposed to think when you couldn't even spend the night?"

He bites the inside of his cheek.

"You can't just decide that for me though," he sighs. "I understand why you assumed and you're probably right, I might not be fully ready for a relationship yet. But I have to be the one to decide that. You can't just jump to those kinds of conclusions and then completely leave me hanging. I had no idea what was going on in your head and I was willing to listen to you."

"I know it was wrong of me not to communicate with you, but you have to understand how much doubt I had. I mean, how else was I supposed to feel when you mention another girl's name right after you fuck me raw?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The first time we did it raw... that was a new level of intimacy I don't think I'd be willing to share with anyone else. Maybe it was just me, but it felt different and like, special. But then got to the shower..."

"We washed each other's hair."

"Yeah, and when I was washing yours... and told you I liked the blonde. What did you say?"

Shit.

"Shit," he runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Shorty. I wasn't thinking, honest. I didn't think about how that was gonna affect you. "

"That's why I started to doubt everything so much, because it felt like you were never going to think about my feelings. It was more than just the comment too... It was you and Leina upstairs at the party.... and you and Akari at another party after you and I..."

"I know how it may have looked to you, but nothing happened. Both of them are just friends to me, honestly. I'm not sleeping with either of them anymore, I haven't slept with anyone besides you since that day I bailed on you for Econ."

"Seriously?" you ask in disbelief.

He nods. "I swear, I haven't touched anyone else. Haven't even really looked in another girl's direction."

He can tell you're shocked by his words. All this time you thought he was still sleeping around. All this time you hadn't the slightest idea how much he prioritized you.

"I'm sorry," your voice rasps. "I shouldn't have assumed you were still sleeping around. And I shouldn't have assumed your feelings either, it was wrong of me. I had no right to decide for you– I was just trying to protect myself and my own feelings."

He pouts. "I know you were Shorty, but I wanted the same thing as you. Of course, I wanted you to be my girl, why else do you think I wanted you at my show so bad? Wanted you to see me dance and tell me I looked good."

His comment makes you smile.

"I'm sorry too... for making you doubt me and everything," he looks down at his lap, twiddling his thumbs. " I should've considered your feelings more if I wanted to show you how much you mattered. And I've still got some stuff to work on as far as relationships and communication... but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and have some patience. Because I really do want to get better, work on all of that stuff for you. Make sure I can treat you right and give you everything."

He looks back up at you, meeting your glossy eyes with his. Oh no, he made you cry.He knows it’s not because you’re upset with him but still… she doesn’t want to see you cry. He vows in his head at that moment to never lay it happen again.

Wordlessly, he wraps his arms around your frame. You turn into jello, melting into his touch as he embraces you with love. You feel so warm, inside and out.

“I wanna get better at communication too,” you sniffle. “And being honest about how I feel to make this work with you. I think we both of stuff we need to work on, and I’m more than willing to work through it with you.”

He lets out a breath of relief over your shoulder. He's so fucking happy right now. His heart's content, filled to the brim with joy. He'd got you where he wants you. He knows it'll require great effort to avoid repeating history, but he couldn't be happier that he's doing it with you.

"Shorty,"

"Soonyoung."

"Hoshi."

"Hoshi?"

"Hoshi."

He likes it a whole lot better when you say it. He freaked out the first time because it was a sore subject, nickname his ex used to call him. He freaked out because he loved the way you said it, how you moaned it when you came around his cock. It scared him how much he wanted to hear you say it over and over again.

He tucks your hair behind your ear. He looks into your eyes longingly, eye contact never faltering. Butterflies fill your stomach and you begin to feel hot beneath his gaze.

His excitement gets the best of him and he breaks the longing tension in the room. He cups your cheek and presses his lips against yours. You react immediately, kissing him back tenderly and his thumb draws circles on your cheek.

He loves kissing you. You melt into his touch so easily, so naturally. He can never get enough of you.

"Is this okay?" he asks against your lips.

You hardly break the kiss. "More than okay."

Your bodies fall into the bed, tongues dancing with one another as fingertips trace skin. You get lost in him so easily. He's so addictive, you can't stop kissing him.

His kisses grow feverish and heated as his hands continue to roam your skin. Your shirt rides up and he takes full advantage of it. He can't keep his hands off of you, touching every inch of your exposed skin.

You make it easier for him, momentarily breaking the kiss to peel your shirt off your body. His lips find your neck and he's quick to leave marks. He sucks along your skin, marking you as his for everyone to see.

He pulls away, looking down at you with a smile as he admires his work. He's interrupted by you suddenly tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

"Shorty," he warns.

"Please Hoshi," you whine.

Fuck. He's a goner.

"You sure you want to? It's not too soon?" he asks.

You shake your head. "Look at you communicating," you smirk. "Don't worry, I'm good if you are. It'll be just like before for now," you assure him.

He nibbles on his bottom lip. You two still aren't official, so it will be a lot like how things were before just you know... better. And who was Kwon Soonyoung to turn you down?

He gives in, allowing you to continue tugging at his jeans. You're smiling like a schoolgirl right now, hands fumbling with his zipper. You free him of his jeans, exposing his already hard cock poking through his underwear.

You've hardly touched him and he's already losing it. Only you can do this to him.

He dips his head back down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss. His hands play with the buttons of your jeans before he slides them off your body. He breaks this kiss briefly to slide his shirt off.

You continue stripping one another bare, lips finding one another quickly every time the kiss is broken. You've reached an entirely new level of intimacy with him. You feel closer than ever and you never want to let go of this feeling.

He touches you with great care, fingertips circling your clit as you squirm beneath him. His head is buried in the crook of your neck as his fingers pleasure you delicately.

You're moaning and panting right into his ear, only fueling him to go faster. He pumps his fingers inside of you, simultaneously rubbing against your sensitive bud. You're falling apart around his fingers within a matter of minutes.

He coaxes you through your first orgasm of the night, filling your ears with the sweet words about how good you're doing for him and how beautiful you are.

He waits for you to fully come down before peppering kisses along your forehead and cheeks. He kisses away the tears staining your cheeks, " 'S okay Shorty."

You assure him that you're fine and he moves to pull out a condom from the pocket of his jeans. You stop him, telling him you'd rather take him raw. He's absolutely losing his mind over you.

He aligns his cock with your soaked entrance, coating his length with your arousal. Your body jolts every time he runs his length along your sensitive clit, leaving you grinding against him desperately.

He finally stops teasing and slides his length into you with ease. Your arms immediately wrap around his frame, nails sinking into his broad shoulder and toned back.

"Fuck," he moans.

He pushes his hips into your slowly, sure to fill you up with the entirety of his length. You wrap your legs around his torso, forcing his cock to thrust deeper inside of you.

You moan in unison, crying out every time he bottoms out inside of you. You feel so close to him, so full and content.

Your sweaty, sticky bodies, are tangled beneath the sheets. You can feel the intimacy in every inch of your body, from your fingertips to your toes. He's not fucking you, not the way he usually does. He's making love to you, ensuring that you really feel him as he drives you into your second orgasm of the night.

He continues to fuck you slowly, relishing in how tight and warm you feel around him. He never wants to leave this place, want's to keep you in his arms forever. You feel so fucking good, cunt tightening around him as you ride out your high.

He watches you, face screwed in pleasure and head sinking into the pillows. He loves watching you fall apart, lips parted as you cry out his name. He loves the way you feel around him, how it always sends him into his own orgasm. He loves everything about you.

He loves you.

He has to stop himself from saying it when he falls apart, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You feel his cock twitch inside of you as he releases his load into you.

Once he comes down from his high, he presses another kiss onto your forehead before slowly pulling out and falling into the bed beside you.

"You okay?" he asks.

You nod, intertwining your fingers with his. " "M all good Hoshi, promise."

His heart beats faster at the sound of the nickname. He's so whipped for you, and he can only hope your heartbeat is as erratic as his right now.

Like always, he escorts you to the bathroom and showers with you. There's a comfortable quiet between the two of you, he fears things will move too fast if he opens his mouth.

The same words he's thinking are tingling on your tongue. You won't say it, it's too soon. But he knows and you know, regardless of whether or not it's said out loud.

In his room, he redresses himself and lends you some of his clothes. He smiles to himself as his eyes scan your body. You look so cute in his clothes, he wishes he could take a picture.

Oh fuck.

"Shit!" Soonyoung falls onto the bed and grabs his phone. "I didn't tell Seokmin I was leaving!"

"I didn't tell Nai either," you begin scrambling for your phone on the bed with him.

There's 4 missed calls and 16 text messages. The older messages begin with 'BITCH WHERE ARE YOU' and end with 'checked your location, nvm! glad you two made up, i'll see you tomorrow morning'

You and Soonyoung exchange looks, laughing to yourself knowing both your phone screens look similar. "They know we're together," he smiles. He drops his phone on the bed, wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling your body into his.

He envelops you in his warmth, comforting and cuddling you. You don't resist, turning into putty in his arms. Your head is pressed into his chest and you can hear his heartbeat. It's perfectly in sync with yours, completely filled with love.

"Shorty?"

"Hmm." you hum.

"Stay the night?"

You smile into his chest. "I thought you'd never ask."

_______________________________________________

#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #seventeen hoshi #hoshi smut #svt hoshi #kwon hoshi #kpop

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ryverbind · 5 months ago

Text

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Bacon King [26]

TW: very slight smut & marijuana use. ALSO 100K ON WATTPAD I LOVE U GUYS SM WTF!!! seriously would not be here without all of you :,) <333

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"Good morning sleepy little princesses!"

I scrunch my closed eyes, wincing at the bright light that pushes past my eyelids.

"Fuck, Ash," I hear Larry groan frustratedly. I open an eye and peek over, noting Emo Buff Daddy himself throwing an arm over his eyes. "It's too damn early!"

The Faces and I camped out in me and Ash's partially empty living room last night-- well, some of The Faces. Todd and Neil ditched us for their own apartment, which is fair. But the other two men decided to hang out.

I'll say that sharing an air mattress with Ash has been quite an experience. I've slept in the same bed with her before, but this kind of bed just causes her to naturally gravitate toward me. Every night lately, I wake up at some point with her legs wrapped around mine in some kind of sailor's knot that I never imagined was possible.

As for Larry and Sal, I have no idea. Sal goes to bed late and he wakes up early. He's a fucking freak of nature.

"Oh, come on, you whiny little bitch," Ash teases her male twin playfully, ripping the blankets off him. "It's nine in the morning! We're going to y/n's to start packing up her stuff at ten. It's wake up time!"

That's true. I glance at the stacks of boxes around the wide expanse of our living room. We don't have furniture yet-- we still need to buy some and wait for the last moving truck to bring the bigger things Ash is taking from Nockfell. But for the most part, we've got everything here, which means my stuff is next.

With a little more grumbled complaints from Larry, the four of us finally leave our new apartment and meet up with Todd and Neil to start heading to my apartment on the other end of town.

An Uber the size of a soccer mom's mini van drops us off in front of my apartment complex and the group of us file out. Todd is busy telling Neil about the diner I worked at literally about two weeks ago-- not that he knows that.

At the mention though, I look over at the diner, feeling a little nostalgic. That is, up until Ophelia walks bounds up to the front door. I blink at my friend, furrowing my brows. What are the chances?

I yell her name, let Ash know where I'm going, then jog over to my friend who looks so pleasantly excited to see me.

"Y/n, holy shit!" She exclaims when I'm close enough, careful not to say my name too loud since Mike undoubtedly told her that The Faces didn't know about me at the time. "Girl, where have you been?"

"Um, back in my hometown, actually," I tell her with a little grin, enveloping her slightly taller figure in a tight hug.

"I heard you got fired," she cringes upon stepping back, looking down at me worriedly. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yea!" I answer, retaining my easygoing smile. "I'm streaming with The Faces. It's proven to be good income. We haven't done any videos lately because we're busy moving into a new apartment, but things have been fine otherwise." I stop my ranting and focus in on the apology I've been meaning to give her. "Also, I am so sorry about what led to me getting fired. Please relay that to Mike, too. I thought he was going to have a heart attack in front of The Faces."

"I know," Ophelia cracks up, covering her mouth with a hand. "I was watching from the bar. Poor, Mike. He could not keep it together! The sperm bank thing was hilarious." She sobers up to tell me, "But congratulations on everything else. I'm happy for you!"

I laugh with her, giving her another hug. "Thank you. But seriously, once I'm settled in my new apartment, I'll invite you guys over to hang out. I miss you," I say honestly, holding her close.

"We'd love to!" She gasps excitedly, squeezing me tight before backing away. "Just send me a text and we'll be there."

"Sounds good," I tell her. "It was nice seeing you! Have a good shift."

"You too!" She says, waving. But she pauses thinking about her words, furrowing her brows. "You don't have a shift. Forgot," she giggles to herself as she backs toward the diner, giving me little finger guns. "Love you!"

"Love you, Lia," I call back with a bright smile. She's such a character.

I walk back to The Faces quickly and lead them up to my apartment, unlocking the door and letting everyone in. I haven't been here in a while.

The day after we came back from Nockfell, Ash and I stopped by to grab some clean clothes and necessities, but I haven't been back since.

I haven't seen my dad since I left LA about two weeks ago. I called him to cry about Ash inviting me to live with her and he fangirled with me over the phone, but besides that, we haven't spoken much.

And Travis, that little ass. When I came back earlier this week, he had left a sticky note on my bed that said, 'Since you wouldn't let me send a dick pic to the singer, here.' He proceeded to scratch out three failures before finally settling on the most mediocre drawing of a dick I've ever seen in my life. But he tried, I guess.

The point is, being back home is nice-- even if it technically isn't home anymore.

Ash, ever the goddess, brought a ton of stuff to cook lunch today. I think pork chops, french fries, and snack packs of chocolate pudding cups. Though, I think it was Larry's influence that got us the snack packs.

Ash sets up shop in my kitchen, outraged at the fact that Dad bought normal salt and not Himalayan salt for her 'exquisite five star meal.'

I sit with the rest of my friends in the living room and make the split second decision to start streaming from my phone. Since I'm not doing anything right now, why not? I've got to make this bread.

I turn my phone around the room, earning a middle finger from Sal who's laid back on my couch watching some kind of play through of a Call of Duty Zombie's Easter Egg. Odd stuff. But he seems to enjoy it so I don't mind, especially given the circumstances of him moving here.

He's been really quiet this week.

Todd and Neil wave, and then I flip the screen to show me and Larry. The man has his face squished against mine so he can get into the screen. I have to adjust my mask with my free hand to make sure the squishing doesn't reveal me at all, but I have a good laugh with him anyway.

After about fifteen minutes, Ash finishes her lunch so I show my subscribers her lovely food then end the stream, grabbing a plate of food to eat with everyone.

As soon as I finish my last bite, there's a knock at my door.

I rush over to the door, ripping it open to see a grinning Nate with a plate of brownies in his hand. What a godsend.

I hop up on my toes to give him a tight hug, feeling about as giddy as I can possibly be. I haven't seen him in weeks at this point.

"Hey, Ducks," Nate drawls in that silky, deep voice of his. His free hand wraps around my waist, his head leaning down to rest against my shoulder. His voice is muffled by my hair as he continues speaking, "Looks like you didn't die back home. Shame."

I swat at his arm, taking an opportunity to snatch the brownies away from him. The smile I give him is a bit of a petty one, but it's a smile nonetheless. "You'd never get that damn screwdriver back if I died, just remember that," I remind him, breaking away from his embrace. His warm palm follows my body though, attached to the small of my back.

Nate rolls his dark eyes, tongue in cheek as he contemplates my reasoning. "Fair enough. I guess it's a good thing you made it back." His gaze has fallen on the rest of my friends now though-- the friends who watch us silently. Ash's cheeks are painted a lovely rouge color but she somehow manages to look our way.

Seeing Ash all flustered around a guy of all things is hilarious. She's so confident with women, and now she's fumbling for the right reaction.

"These are The Faces, as you probably know," I tell Nate, a happy sigh falling past my lips. I start naming them from left to right. "Sal, Ash, Larry, Todd, and his boyfriend, Neil."

Nate nods his head in greeting, lips pressed into a tight line-- his version of a smile at the moment. It's the best he can muster up, poor guy. He absolutely abhors meeting new people.

Larry cracks the code immediately, walking over to Nate and offering a hand. "Nice to meet you, dude," he starts with a cheeky smile.

Nate cracks a smile, grabbing onto Larry's hand and shaking it. "You too."

The rest of the males in the group shake his hand, but Ash simply waves from her spot across the living room. She doesn't move in.

Oh, so she's got it bad.

Still holding onto Nate's brownies, I move toward my kitchen to set them down on the cabinet. "Ash was nice enough to make lunch," I tell my friend, gesturing for him to follow. "We've all eaten already, you can have what's left."

Nate trails in behind me, watching everyone in my living room since the only thing that separates us is the island table. I put down the brownies then move around the table to sit down. Everyone else is busy watching Ash's stream from last night. She gave a quick tour of our new apartment, explaining why we won't be active for a few days and whatnot.

Plate in hand and still the sole occupant of my kitchen, Nate leans against the table opposite me and digs into his food. With just one bite of a french fry, his eyes widen a bit and he tilts his head as if he's just switched realities. "Shit's pretty good," he murmurs, focusing on his plate again to finish his bite.

I watch him with a fond smile, fisting my hands beneath my chin.

That is, until a tatted hand surfaces at my side and snatches a fry off the platter beside me. Nate and I both focus in like a cat to a laser, watching the hand move.

I follow that hand to see Sal leaning against the table, his hair hanging over his shoulders and prosthetic face aimed at Nate while his shoulder brushes mine. I search for his eyes to get a read on him-- figure out why he's here-- but with him facing away from me, the attempt is futile.

Worse though, he doesn't say a word. Just watches my friend. And Nate watches him, a contemplative expression beginning to take over his face.

Are they sizing each other up? My antisocial, shy Nate is actually looking Sal Fisher dead in the eyes without cowering?

I fight the urge to sink in on myself as I watch them and ponder what to say. I don't even know why they're looking at each other like this. It's getting tense. So tense that it suddenly feels difficult to breathe within the boys' general vicinity and I just have zero clue of what's going on.

Then, Sal snaps his head to me. I flinch when his vibrant eyes meet mine.

He looks into my eyes before his gaze begins traveling over my face. He glances here and there, taking in each curve and tilt of the mask shielding me from him. His hand lifts toward me, pushing a strand of hair away from my mouth and I blink at him. A torrent of abusive flutters infest my stomach and my body grows warm. I beg myself not to blush, wishing I could stomp down every single thought about Sal being sweet that suddenly floats into my head.

Everything begins falling apart.

"Oh," Nate mutters from in front of us. I turn to address his sound only to find his eyes a little wide and his mouth gaping a bit. "Oh," he emphasizes the word.

In my peripheral, I catch Sal switching his attention to Nate as well.

Nate immediately throws his hands up in surrender. "I think-- I think I get it." His voice is low, wavering. "We're just friends. It's not like that."

It's my turn to widen my eyes. Are they communicating telepathically or something? Is it just a weird, guy thing? Nate deciphering Sal's wordless claim is even freakier than him claiming me in general.

Sal ignores Nate's words at first, simply looks down at the plate full of fries and grabs another. "Good."

And he's gone.

I stare at the spot Sal populated just a moment ago, flabbergasted beyond belief. Just the slightest touch was a warning, a claim, and acknowledgment all in one. I can't quite process it, but thank God Nate did it all for me.

"What the fuck," he hisses lowly, leaning over the table to talk to me more privately. "You have something to tell me?"

I look at Nate again, noting his hyper finger-tapping and dilated pupils. He just got his drama for the week. No, the entire month.

Meanwhile, I'm short-circuiting. I'm still living in the moment when Sal's fingers brushed the corner of my lips and his gaze pierced through every layer of my skin. But the icy cold, overwhelming fear that suddenly slices through me like the dagger on Sal's neck brings me back to the present. Because Sal just told Nate that we're fucking without saying a single word. Now someone knows.

I can trust Nate with anything, I know that, but I'm dreading the conversation that comes with his knowledge of the situation.

Panicking, I leap up from my chair and lean toward Nate, slapping a hand over his mouth. "Not a word," I whisper to him, trying my best to keep my voice as quiet as possible. "We'll--" I pinch my lips together, shake my head. I can't believe this is happening to me. But I ground myself and do my best to remember that things are fine. Everything's okay. For now. "We'll talk about it later."

Nate nods vigorously beneath my hand, so I slowly pull it away-- watching and waiting for him to screw something up. He doesn't, but he starts conjuring up an evil plan. I can tell by the rabid smirk that begins to form on his lips. "You know I'm going to fuck with him, right?" he whispers to me, narrowing his eyes in some kind of psychotic glee.

Sighing, my head droops and I dread the full day ahead of us. "Please don't," I practically beg him.

"Even getting on your knees won't stop me from taking this opportunity," Nate cackles, grabbing his plate and moving around me to the living room. He even has the audacity to plop down beside Sal, giving him a cheeky grin before popping a fry into his mouth. Sal watches him incredulously before turning back to my TV.

The Faces, Nate, Neil, and myself spend the entire day clearing out and packing up my room. many of my belongings were already packed, seeing as I only moved to LA a year ago. We didn't have to go through the trouble of figuring out my drum kit since it's already in a bunch of boxes.

By the time nightfall came and went, we all grouped up in my living room. Surrounded by boxes and eating food that Larry so graciously ordered for us (Raising Canes, to be specific), Ash took the courtesy of trying to turn some music on to aid the relaxing atmosphere after a hard day's work.

My dear best friend is standing in front of my dad's speakers, scrolling through all of my music to pick a song while the rest of us sit in a circle. To my left, Nate, then Neil, Todd, Sal, Larry, Ash.

The balcony curtains are open to let in the beautiful city lights that manage to reflect into our apartment. Green's, blue's, and yellows engage in a passionate dance along the lines and grooves of my living room's ceiling. Such a hypnotizing light show for myself and my friends.

Ash finally settles on a song, grumbling when an ad plays as soon as she comes over to sit down. "I'm trying to play sad Bullet For My Valentine songs and Spotify won't let me!" she exclaims, plopping down on the floor beside me.

"Sorry," I snicker, dipping a fry into some sauce. "I refuse to give them any of my money."

"I'll pay for it," she scoffs, sending me a playful wink to say she's just joking. I simply roll my eyes and eat my fry, enjoying the lax atmosphere.

We fall into silence for a few minutes and I try not to look over to where Sal sits. He's been incredibly tame today-- so much so that I find myself worrying for him a bit.

He's sitting in front of my sofa, his head laid on the seat cushions. A few tendrils of his cerulean hair clash against the dark color of the fabric. And with his head bent the way it is, I can pick out just about every dip and curve along the length of his throat. A constellation to map out with my lips when the time comes.

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" Larry suddenly asks, probably put off by the silence or expressing his boredom.

I pull my attention away from Sal, especially when he picks his head up to look over at Larry.

I turn to Larry too, finding him fidgeting with his septum piercing and gazing at nothing. So his question was for anyone, then.

"I've got a story," Nate says from beside me, his tone a little too chipper for my liking.

I've mentioned before that Nate and I go way back. I mean, way back. So far back that he and I have witnessed the typical teenage depression and feeble attempts to be badass. The difference is that Nate and I went a step farther. We didn't just attempt to be badass-- we were badass. Not that I regret it, but it's something that I sickeningly assumed he would bring up at some point tonight to 'fuck' with Sal. And, dammit, Larry just gave him his opening.

In a moment of weakness, I grab onto Nate's wrist and throw him a look. Furrowed brows and wide eyes to portray that I really don't think this is a good idea.

Nate mimics my look though, leveling with me. This will be his one statement for the night and he's done. That's what his look means... but is it worth it?

I spare a glance at Sal and immediately regret it. His gaze is set on me and Nate's connected limbs, making me immediately let go of the man's wrist. Sal's already jealous enough as is-- I think that's more than enough.

But, my mind wanders back to the time Sal had a woman nearly sitting on top of him when we were in Las Vegas. All the times he was a jackass to me. You know, maybe he's better now, but that doesn't mean I can't screw with him a little too, right?

I wet my lips then turn back to Nate and give him a little nod.

I'll probably regret this later.

"Okay, so," Nate starts, scooting in closer with a winning grin on his face, hands in the air to accentuate his story-telling. I start counting my blessings. "Back in high school-- junior year I'd say-- y/n was dating this total asshole, right? I mean, this abusive, two-timing, unfaithful--"

I cut him off with an embarrassed cringe. "Get to the point, Nathaniel."

"Right, right." He rolls his eyes, waving me off. "My bad. So anyway, yea. He fucking sucked. He was also my best friend at the time." Nate tips his head toward everyone, earning lots of 'oohs' to add to his already hugely inflated ego. He continues with a dramatic bravado. "I caught him cheating again, so I let y/n know. Also cut off my friendship with him by that point."

Ash snorts. "As you should. Continue."

Nate's grin morphs into a bit of an evil smirk as he turns to Ash, talking directly to her now that she's shown more interest than everyone else even thought they're still listening intently.

"So y/n had finally had enough, thank God." He shoots me a pointed look that I only raise my eyebrows at. "And she broke up with him. She was mad. I mean, so mad that the next day she stomped up to me in the hallway, and-- get this-- with no hesitation whatsoever, said to me 'Let's fuck.'"

I hide my face in my hands at the same moment lemonade spews out of Larry's nose.

I hear a few muttered curses from Ash before Nate continues with the story.

"And I was game, duh, but I had to ask what the occasion was 'cuz the day before she was holding hands with my ex-best friend. So she explained everything to me, and..."

I peek through my eyes to see Nate who's smiling proudly at me, giving me an opportunity to continue the story. So with a breath, I lower my hands and try to ignore Sal's blazing gaze on me.

"What better way to get revenge than to fuck your ex's best friend?" I say tentatively, shrugging.

"Best part of that was he got a pic of me hitting it from the back." Nate leans away from the group with a content smile stretching across his face.

Ash giggles while Larry and Neil reach over to fist bump him. Sal looks a tad amused by the prospect too, but a completely different emotion overshadows his pretty eyes.

Todd, ever the scientist, has his own inquiries about the situation. "So, did you two ever date? I can't imagine neither of you were confused after something like that."

I shake my head. "We'd set up ground rules," I answer him. "Nate was a lousy lay," I can't help but chuckle when Nate lightly punches my shoulder. "But revenge made it erotic, I suppose." I continue, at least giving my friend a couple props.

"So no other feelings?" Ash asks, clarifying with her hands held out.

"Never," Nate declares. "No feelings other than the coolest fucking friendship in existence."

Aw, that's cute. I poke out my bottom lip and turn to him. "That's so sweet, Nate." He sends me a genuine smile that almost makes me feel bad about my next words. "But your mom's still cooler than you."

Nate groans, shoving a hand into my face. "The both of you probably beat me up together in your dreams. I don't know what the hell she see's in your evil ass."

I laugh heartily, catching Sal standing up in my peripheral. My attention leaves Nate who starts talking about the many times I was present for his chancla chucking mama's outbursts. Sal walks into my hallway-- most likely heading for the bathroom.

And you know what, I have things to confront him about right now. For one, I need to know how things are going to progress after Nate finding out about us and I can't necessarily wait to find out.

So I wait for a minute before getting up with an excuse about needing something in my room. Then, I wait in front of my bedroom door-- right across from the bathroom.

When Sal opens the door and shuts the light off, his head instantly snaps up to meet my neutral expression. He glances toward the sounds of our friends conversing from my living room then looks back to me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I hiss quietly, gesturing toward the hallway with a hand.

Sal takes leisurely steps toward me. "I should be asking you that," he challenges, voice low and words clipped. He's certainly not happy.

"I think I have a good reason to ask first," I counter, crossing my arms over my chest. "Nate knows about us, so what do we do?"

Sal doesn't answer right away, not until the toes of his shoes tap against mine. I suck in a breath and hold it when his prosthetic nose bumps my mask's. His nonchalant response is, "We fuck."

I swallow against the monsoon of butterflies that suddenly start flapping around my insides. We must stay focused, brothers.

"That's not--" I try to start, but cut myself off. I don't know what to say.

"That's not what?" Sal asks, stooping a bit lower and twisting the knob of my bedroom door. I stagger backward when the door gives.

My heart begins to race, pounding away at the fortress of ribs in my chest as Sal backs me into my room, softly shutting my door behind him. He follows me, cornering me against a wall. I can't even look at him, not when my face is flaming hot and my body is having these ridiculous reactions. I can't even confront him without freezing up now. His anger, his dominance, the upper hand he always has. Something about it is just so enthralling.

"Answer me," He says, voice a bit louder this time. "That's not what?"

"That's not a good excuse," I say quietly, taking a step to the side to move around him. But my attempt at an escape is met with a hand gently wrapping around my throat.

I swallow against his hold, imagining he can feel the action across each of his fingers. He watches me curiously as if that's exactly what's going through his head.

"It's not an excuse," he repeats my claim, tilting his head a bit to look me in the eye. "Was your story about fucking your friend an excuse, then?"

I open my mouth to say something, but shut it. I shouldn't have let Nate tell the story. It had the desired effect-- Sal is clearly feeling some kind of way about it, but I feel like it definitely wasn't necessary. What was the point?

"Are you going to fuck him again?" Sal asks, dropping every hint of emotion to portray how serious he is about the topic.

"No," I rush to say, tripping over the word. I catch my breath that won't stop running from me. "It was once. I was... I was being honest when I said he was a lousy lay. We were seventeen." I mentally apologize to Nate, knowing he wouldn't care either way because I doubt I was any good at sex either.

I haven't talked with Sal in a while. Not one-on-one. Not since right before we left Nockfell, which was nearly a week ago at this point. Everything else has been the two of us sneaking glances and scooting past with a quick 'Excuse me.' Was I so desperate to get his attention that I had to make him upset to do it? I could have just texted him on Discord or something.

Sal's quiet, letting me think about the consequences of my actions, I'm sure. But the longer he doesn't speak, the more I notice the aggression in his eyes lessens.

His thumb slowly begins to rub along my pulse point, feeling my erratic heart race the same way he did the first time he ever gripped my throat. The skin on his finger is rough, calloused. Guitar playing hands and all. The repercussions of art scratching along such a sensitive part of me.

He taps against a spot on the side of my neck, his gaze snapping to the area he's focused on. "I want to bite you right here," he murmurs quietly.

I guess he's been craving me too.

"So do it," I whisper, drunkenly taking in the way his eyes suddenly meet mine again. I don't need alcohol when Sal's around. He's proven to be more than enough intoxication.

"I can't," he replies lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. "If I do that, I'll fuck you."

I bite down on my bottom lip and think about my poor friends who are waiting for us to return. I also think about how much I've worried for Sal and how badly I've wanted to be near him all week. I can just tell them I dragged him over here to help me look for what I needed, right?

"So do it," I repeat myself, giving him the go ahead.

Sal closes his eyes for a few seconds, probably weighing his options like I just did. It seems that lust wins his internal battle though because within the next second, he leans toward me, buries his prosthetic face into the side of my neck.

I turn my head toward him, shutting my eyes when the scent of his hair envelops me whole. His azure hair, silky against my cheek, moves with him as he trails his nose lightly along the length of my throat.

"I've wanted to taste you all week," he admits quietly, the words a breathy whisper that I can hardly hear due to his prosthetic.

I try my hardest to suppress a shiver, but I can't help but clutch his hair in my hand, tugging at the long strands.

Sal hums, releasing my throat from his grip to hold me to him by the nape of my neck instead. His other hand ghosts up my body, softly trailing up my side and across my breasts all the way over to where he hides against me.

He pulls away from me just a bit, pulling his prosthetic over his head before returning to his place against my neck. I can't help but hold my breath as his scarred lips skim along my throat, leaving the smallest of kisses only when he feels the need.

I pinch my lips together and tug on his hair again when he drags on the slight touching for far too long. He chuckles quietly before finally obliging me, digging his crooked teeth into the spot he so desperately wanted to bite earlier.

I yelp, melting against him just as he pulls me closer to him with a hand on my waist. He slaps the other hand over my mouth to shut me up and I blink at the action, just a little miffed up until he licks the abused skin to soothe it.

He sucks the flesh on my neck into his mouth, leaving marks in a horrendously obvious spot that I know I'll regret later but... I don't regret it now. I can't even find it in me to care about having to hide the dark red marks he'll leave on me.

Sal continues mapping out his artwork along my skin, holding me hostage against his body. His leg finds its way between mine and he lifts his knee, creating friction against my clothed clit. I moan against his hand, making him press harder against my mouth. I grab at the hem of his shirt, squeezing the fabric in my fist as my other hand buries itself further into his hair.

I feel faint, not because of a lack of air, but because of a lack of him.

Sal moves his way up my neck kissing along my jaw before pausing in front of me, his marred nose brushing along mine. His lips are parted and swollen, the tips of his canines peeking past his top lip. And his gaze tethered to the hand that covers my mouth. I watch him, crumbling a bit as he pushes his knee into me again.

He smiles a bit, showing of a hint of that dimple that could bring me to my knees faster than anyone or anything else.

I gently bite down on his finger, causing him to slowly pull his hand away from me. I gasp for breath when his hand finally moves, running my tongue along my bottom lip. Sal's eyes track the movement and I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

His knee drops and he pulls me just a fraction of a centimeter closer to him by the back of my neck.

Something about the way his gaze doesn't leave my lips makes me freeze up.

No. No.

"Twitterpated." The word leaves my lips before I can even realize I thought of it.

Sal's hands are off of me the exact moment I formed the first syllable and he takes a baby step away. I warily watch the way his eyes widen, like he's surprised himself. And he's still close, just a hairsbreadth or two away, but he has room to regain some clarity.

I'm about to apologize when a knock sounds on my door, followed by, "Ducks? Can I come in?"

I gasp, my knees going weak for a moment-- and this time it's not because of Sal.

Unceremoniously and without reason, I shove Sal away from me. He stumbles backward, catching himself with a hand on my bed and an offended grunt.

I reach a hand toward him to offer help that's far too late, my eyes wide as I cringe at the sheer audacity that this situation has slapped me with. But remembering that my dad is literally outside the door, I motion to Sal's prosthetic that's limply hanging from his left hand.

"Put it on!" I whisper harshly.

Sal realizes I'm saving him, saying his thanks through wide eye contact alone as he buckles the prosthetic to his face again.

"Um," I say, loud enough for my dad as I glance around my room. I spot an Amazon box and chuck it at Sal, managing to smack him in the prosthetic he just finished placing onto his face.

He throws his hands up and narrows his eyes at me while I mutter an embarrassed, "Fuck!" To my surprise, Sal chuckles.

I take a breath and sit down in front of my computer, ripping the drawer on my desk open to look like I was rifling in it. "Yea, dad," I call and I watch Sal's body go rigid in my peripheral. "You can come in."

I glance back at Sal who frantically unfolds the flaps on the boxes, practically burying his head into it. I can't help but laugh at the visual.

My dad cracks the door open, peeking in with a hand over his eyes so he doesn't see anything unsightly. "Sorry, just wanted to check in. I'm stopping by to grab my laptop and, apparently, Raising Canes. Then I'm heading to the airport." He gives me a reassuring, gentle smile.

I stand up, ditching my prop excuse and walking over to hug my dad. "No problem, we were just..." I look back at Sal who's finally poked his head out of the box. "Looking for Nate's screw driver," I continue, turning back to my dad.

My father, Bruce, bacon king himself, slackens his expression to tell me he's not buying it and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I rub a hand over my forehead before gesturing to Sal. "This is Sal," I tell my dad, "Sal, this is my dad."

"Good evening, sir. Nice to meet you," Sal says politely and it takes everything in me not to snap my neck on my way to look at him incredulously. Where the hell did these manners come from?

My dad smiles at Sal, waving to him. "Nice to meet you too, son."

Then he leans toward me, his grey eyes beyond amused as he says, quiet enough so Sal doesn't hear, "You have a hickey the size of Australia on the side of your neck, sweetheart."

Oh my God.

I loose a pained breath, slapping a hand over the side of my neck that Sal had attacked just moments ago.

"Other side, honey," Dad says and I think I'm seriously going to faint while I slap my other hand to the opposite side of my neck-- just in time for him to cackle and continue with, "Just fucking with you. You were right the first time."

I watch my dad with wide eyes, fumbling around my brain for words. All I manage to come up with is, "Is blood really thicker than water, Bruce?"

My dad chuckles lightheartedly, clapping a hand onto my shoulder as an apology and squeezing gently. "I'll leave you be, Ducks. I'm going grab my things-- I'll check back in a bit to say goodbye."

And then he shuts the door again. That bastard, I hate how much I love him.

I turn back to Sal with a troubled sigh, but I feel a bit revitalized when I see the mortified look in his eyes.

"Oh my God," Sal voices my thoughts and I laugh lightly, walking over to take the random Amazon box from him.

"Don't worry, he isn't crazy," I try to reassure Sal as I drop the box into the corner behind my desk. "Can't say the same for when he heard about me and Nate though."

"If you were seventeen, I can just about imagine," Sal murmurs more to himself than to me. "Sorry. About your neck." He says a bit louder this time, but remorse taints his tone. "About all of it."

His tone and words tug at my heartstrings. "Don't worry about it," I tell him, making my voice a little gentler than normal. "I was..." I pause, thinking of how to word my reaction properly. "Scared."

Sal snorts. "Me too. I didn't mean for it to look the way it did, I was just fascinated."

"When are you not?" I quip, closing the drawer to my desk.

"I thought we were being nicer to each other," Sal counters my statement with one that bites. I turn my head over my shoulder, noting the fire in his eyes. He's hungry for a fight.

"Since when?" I turn to him, leaning back against my desk with a minuscule, barely there smile on my lips. "I thought our arrangement was sex, not friends."

Sal tilts his head a bit. "We're not friends?"

I straighten, blinking at him as embarrassment flares within me again. A tremor of flutters makes my heart skip a beat at the same time and my mind goes completely blank.

"I--I mean--" I rush to say, swallowing past the stutter. "Yea, we're friends. I guess. If you want. I don't--"

Sal laughs. He closes his eyes as the lovely sound echoes around my room. Then he stands and saunters to my door, quick to make his exit.

He turns the knob, back to the door as he says his parting words. "You don't stand a single chance, y/n."

No, I really don't.

I sigh, grabbing concealer and foundation to dab onto the pretty mark on my neck, making sure it's covered as much as possible before I follow after Sal.

When I get through the hallway and resurface in my living room, I find my dad standing right outside my friend's little circle on the floor. He turns to me when I walk in, his dad radar making him look directly at my neck. When he finishes his visual examination, he throws me a thumbs up. I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the shame coursing through me.

"Hey, Ducky-Duck," Ash chirps from the floor. "The guys and I are about to head out. Are you coming tonight?"

I smile at my dear friend. "I think I'm going to stay here tonight, hang out with Nate before I move out for good."

Ash nods her understanding, bright smile still lighting up her entire face. "Sounds good! We'll start bringing your things over tomorrow, right?"

I nod back to her, "Yep, I'll be up bright and early."

"Cool," she says, looking over to Nate who watches the exchange. "And you're always welcome at our apartment too. Just so you know." Her smile widens a bit.

Some part of me thinks they're going to end up hooking up somewhere in the future.

I watch the moment Sal realizes he has nothing to worry about. Nate smiles wickedly at Ash, all but confirming that we can expect that to be a thing at some point.

I hug my friends and my dad goodbye, watching as they file out of the apartment. When I return to my living room, Nate's sitting on my couch with a joint between his fingers.

I fight the laugh that bubbles up my throat, especially when he glances up at me with raised eyebrows, asking an unspoken question.

"Let's go to the balcony. Dad would kill me if I burned his couch," I say, grabbing Nate's arm and pulling him up to drag him outside.

We keep the doors open, sitting beneath the clear night sky while passing the joint between the both of us. Smoke materializes in the air through various, white puffs that dissipate as they climb higher and higher.

It's quiet for a bit-- well, as quiet as city nightlife can be. Muted laughter, music, and car honks echo off the wall of my apartment. Makes my nights a little less lonely.

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Nate breaks our silence, taking a hit from the joint before moving it toward me.

I take it between my index and thumb and examine it. "We've been..." I pinch my lips together as I ponder the situation I've gotten myself in. I take my own hit before passing it back to Nate. I blow the smoke into the open air before continuing my explanation. "We've been fucking around for... jeez, like, two months now."

"Two months!?" Nate repeats, flabbergasted as he holds the butt of our shared joint between his index and middle fingers. "That long?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "Yea, it's been a while. It started online, shockingly."

"Damn." Nate releases an audible breath, dark eyes glancing between my own. "Phone sex?" He quirks an eyebrow.

I grin. "Yea."

He fist pumps the air, giggling to himself. "So, does anyone else know? You seemed a little apprehensive about me saying anything."

I shake my head. "The rest of our friends would tell us to call it off if they found out, which is why we haven't said anything-- or, well, that's what I think they'd do. No one else knows. Just you-- and my fucking dad now." I rub a hand down my face at the reminder, whimpering at the sheer fact that my dad knows that something is going on between Sal and I.

Nate chokes on a cackle, leaning forward in his chair to launch into a coughing fit. I watch, pretending to be unimpressed even as a little smile works onto my face. I guess it's a little funny. What are the odds, right?

"Your dad? That shit's priceless," Nate sighs, catching his breath. "Why not try a relationship?"

"God, no," I shoot the words out immediately. I don't even want to think about it. "He and I have an arrangement. It's just sex. Neither of us have hinted at anything else. And besides, I don't want a relationship." My voice grows quieter toward the end.

Nate's expression is filled with pity. "Y/n, I know your last relationship wasn't great. Hell, we relived that bullshit tonight with the story." He laughs lightly at the reminder of everyone's shocked reactions to him and I hooking up in high school. "But don't let that stop you from pursuing anything new. Sally Face seems to be pretty into you," he continues gently.

I snort, looking away. "It's just basic attraction. I think he has his own shit to work through and I do too."

"You're throwing excuses at the wrong fucking person," Nate says knowingly. "I saw you stealing glances every two minutes."

I turn my head to him, glaring. I throw a quick, discreet punch at his arm and don't feel bad about it when he hisses in pain.

But I have to think about what he said too. Sal and I had a rather frantic run-in with each other tonight-- one that ended just as frantic as it began. I used our safe word for the first and probably the only time ever. Part of me feels guilty about it, but another part remembers that I was justified. Sal has always been understanding. He wasn't mad, backed off as soon as I let him know.

I let the thoughts marinate for a few moments before expressing them to Nate.

"I think he tried to kiss me tonight," I admit quietly, cracking my knuckles as I watch the stars light up the sky. My cheeks grow pink as I voice the idea, afraid that it'll somehow prove to be true.

I catch Nate's head turning toward me in my peripheral. "And how do you feel about that?"

I laugh humorlessly. "Not great considering I used our safe word."

Nate sits up a little straighter, still looking at me. "Oh, damn. That bad?"

I nod, tilting my head down with a mixture of shame and fear. I don't know how to feel about it because a small part of me wants it, but the rest of me is terrified.

Nate takes a deep breath. "If it's what you said, a sex arrangement, then you have nothing to worry about. It's surface level, right? So what's wrong with a kiss? I'm honestly pretty shocked you haven't kissed at this point. Most people do, especially for hookups."

He has a point.

"I know," I tell him honestly. "When things started, the prosthetic was still a barrier. He's... he's started taking it off around me though. So we've been able to do... more."

"If he's taking the prosthetic off, then he trusts you. So why don't you trust him?"

Nate's question hits me a little deeper than intended. I gulp over the words, organizing them in my head and thinking hard about it. I do trust Sal. He hasn't led me astray, he's been kinder lately, he's always done exactly as I asked. If I express my worries about kissing, I don't have a single doubt in my mind that he'd take it seriously and accommodate me as best as possible. I just have to work up the courage to let it happen.

The next issue though...

"He played it off though," I sigh, shifting in my seat to face Nate. "He apologized, said it wasn't what it seemed like and that he was just fascinated. But, the way he was looking at me... I don't think he was telling the truth."

I peek at Nate through my lashes, noting his concerned, serious expression. "I think that your fear of it scared him. Maybe he didn't want you to call things off over that, so he didn't tell you the complete truth."

I tilt my head, considering. I've done the same exact thing with Sal-- fibbed and left out information to ensure that we'd continue our arrangement. It makes sense, as sad as it is.

"Are you sure you don't have any feelings for him, y/n?" Nate asks, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

I open my mouth to spit out a very loud 'no,' but I stop and think about it. Damn Nathaniel for making me actually think about things tonight.

Everything that made me hate Sal in the beginning is practically nonexistent now. All the anger, the pain, the fights. Sure, we still bicker here and there, but it's for fun now. It's never serious, never deep. It's a lot like Nate and I's friendly banter. Besides that, Sal has been excellent in pretty much every box on the check list.

So, do I like him?

"I mean," I whisper. "I definitely have a crush." I admit, albeit with a bit of force considering it's the last thing I want to admit.

"Well, duh. He's got a crush on you, too. Why else would you guys be fucking?" Nate sighs dramatically, flicking his wrist with a prideful flair I haven't seen from him in a very long time. I think he had fun tonight. The thought makes me smile.

I shrug in response even though the thought of Sal crushing on me does make me feel a bit gooey on the inside.

Wait, gooey?

I groan, slapping my hands over my face and grumbling a muffled, "Fuck."

Nate guffaws, his chair creaking as he sits up quickly. He shoves my arm. "You do like him!"

I shove his arm back, swallowing back tears of surprise, fear, and regret. The audacity of my own emotions. "If I do like him," I start, leveling a glare at Nate which makes him sober up quickly. "It's not enough. Nowhere near. And besides, he's still a shitbag." I don't mean those words as much as I used to.

"That's true," Nate mumbles to himself. "You two have a little feud online, don't you?" His brows furrow and he looks down at the small space between us. "Oh, wait." He snaps his head up to me. "What about that other guy? What was his name..."

"Oh, shit," I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand. I've been so blinded by Sal that I forgot about him. "North."

"Yea! That's it," Nate points at me, eyebrows raising now. "People online are saying you're dating."

I shake my head. "No, I've only met him a handful of times. Spoken even less. I think he's definitely got the hots for me," I snicker at the idea. "It's nothing like what's going on with Sal and I though."

"Doesn't seem like that online," he murmurs, brows raised suggestively. I scoff in retaliation, rolling my eyes at him. But then he narrows his gaze in my direction, scrutinizing me from the minute distance between us.

I watch with bated breath, waiting for whatever's brewing in his head to leave his mouth.

"Why the hell are you still wearing your mask? In fact, why are you wearing a mask at all?"

The reminder washes over me like a bucket of ice water. I suck in a quick breath, hold it as humiliation alters my expression. Nate takes my reaction seriously, sobering up the friendly banter we had going on for a bit.

"You're... going to get a kick out of this one," I whisper, chewing on my lips. At this point, the situations I've stuck myself in are becoming ironically hilarious. Who does this to themselves?

Nate's face drops as he seems to catch the hint that I buried myself in something stupid again. "What did you do."

Statement, not a question.

I suck on my teeth, averting my gaze to avoid seeing the dumbfounded look of pity and awe that'll take over his handsome face the moment I spit it out.

"I met him once. Before I ever talked to him online. He was at the diner-- he hated me. I... I panicked. So beneath the mask, my face is a girl named Lexi to him. She has no relation to myself or Vi." I spit the words out quickly, frantically, so much so that I worry he may not have been able to catch all of it.

I scrunch my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as my body grows warm. Saying it out loud feels so much worse than thinking it.

Why am I doing this to him? Isn't this just... insanely cruel? To look Sal in the eyes and play with his head. To know he thinks I'm two different people and never say a word about it.

I mean, at least he doesn't think I'm three people anymore. And besides, he took my reveal as y/n well, right? So maybe the same would go for Lexi's reveal.

"You're such a dumb fuck." Nate shakes his head, flabbergasted. "What are you going to do about that?"

Tongue in cheek, I ask myself the same question. What do I do? Hope for the best, that he just somehow never finds out or grows curious? Wait until he gets tired of me?

I blink around the frustration and fear that starts to rip at my insides. "I really don't know."

Nate hums, pursing his lips. "Well," he says, voice much lower now. "Seems like you have a lot to think about, huh?"

"When I'm not high? Yea. Definitely." I laugh lightly as Nate sends me a reassuring, friendly smile before turning to watch the sky. I mimic him, gazing at the cloudless night.

Every once in a while, I find that the color of some of the stars matches Sal's eyes perfectly. I wonder if he'd think the same.

-------

A/N::::::::::::::: happy 100k everyone!! to ALL my readers, i want to start by expressing my immense gratitude. I just know that 14 year old ryver has tears streaming down her face knowing that we got here. never in my life did i think this would actually happen to me, but even more than that, i never expected to make such wonderful friends in all of you along the way. 100,000 views on a piece of work i created feels absolutely impossible, but i would not be here without all of you. through this process, you've all been so kind, helpful, loving, and wonderful. the right words to explain how much i love you do not exist. this feeling is incomparable to any other and not a single concept on this earth could possibly capture it's essence completely. THANK YOU! from the bottom of my little heart, thank you so much. i love you all with every fucking bit of me. we're all little fish floating down a lone river in appalachia-- we're all together in some universe or another and i wouldn't have it any other way <3

all week, i've been thinking hard about this chapter and how much i've wanted to give you guys a good one to celebrate! when it started i was like :/ don't like itttt. BUT i had a couple drinks (DO NOT RECOMMEND-- DON'T DRINK ALCOHOL FOOLS) and managed to pump out about 5,000 more words in one night! 5,000 that were completely unplanned, but ended up working out really well. i fell IN LOVE with nate and y/n's little interaction at the end :3

as of right now, it's 1:49am on wednesday, june 12th. we sit at 99.5k and i've been tweaking all day to come home and finish this chapter for you guys. i'm counting down the minutes, counting down the views left to go and listening to twenty one pilots. i feel like i'm living the life i've always wanted and it's all thanks to you. thank you for everything, my loves. i love you all with my entire heart and soul! have a wonderful morning, day, evening, night! until next time <3

p.s. you won't have to wait longer cuz GUESS WHO'S FINISHING A SAL LORE CHAPTER TO CELEBRATE TOO WOOOOOOOO!!!!

p.s.s. My little brother made a Sally Face mask (he's super duper talented) and let me borrow it for pics with my 100k cake. It's currently on Instagram (which is ryverbind)

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic #smut

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sarahowritesostucky · 7 months ago

Text

📖"Blood Moon Rising" pt 6

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: shrinkyclinks, prison au, werewolf au, omega Steve, Alpha Bucky, dub-con, non-con, werewolf sex, knotting, oral (m!rec), hand jobs, held hostage, age gap (40/26), forced mating, violence, bonding, Dom/sub elements

Summary: Steve gets a lot more than he bargained for when a prison riot breaks out and he becomes the captive of an Alpha werewolf.

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter! Fic Masterlist

Part 6 - "In Shades of Purple"

After learning so much new information in the Yurt, Steve needed to get some air. He needed time to process, and maybe think of a last minute escape plan (though none was forthcoming).

He went for a walk along the outskirts of the camp, trying to clear his head. At first he thought he was alone, but then he noticed a rustling from the nearby woods. He looked over, thinking that it was probably a squirrel, and was surprised to see a wolf peeking at him through a bush. With all of Steve’s varied escape attempts thus far, by now he knew that werewolves were more than capable of treading silently in the forest and pouncing without ever being noticed by their prey. If Steve had heard this one’s approach, it was because the wolf wanted him to.

The wolf stepped closer, revealing itself from around the foliage, and Steve’s shoulders relaxed. There were only a couple of pack members whom he recognized by sight in their shifted forms. Most of them tended to be a combination of dull grey and brown, black and white, but Wanda’s fur was almost the same color as her actual hair. “Oh,” Steve said as the wolf walked over. “Oh. Hi Wanda.” He felt so weird speaking normally to her, but he’d been told that the wolves could understand speech just fine in their animal forms, so … “Erm, how’s it going?”

The wolf stepped up close and nudged Steve’s hand with her snoot in a silent greeting.

“I was just taking a walk.” He indicated the treeline he’d been following. “To clear my head. Try and figure out what I’m gonna do about … about tonight.”

Wanda chuffed and shot him what could only be interpreted as a look of judgemental incredulity, making Steve feel stupid.

“Yeah,” he agreed glumly, because what could he really do? Run away again? Commit suicide? Kill Bucky? He had zero interest in any of those options. Running away would only mean getting his slippery ass caught in record time (humiliating), offing himself was cowardice and too dramatic for the circumstances besides (lame), and killing Bucky was, well …

Steve bit his lip. Killing Bucky would just be setting himself up for attack from the rest of the pack. It was beyond dangerous. And even if it weren’t, even if he could somehow magically stab Bucky in the neck and not have to worry about 200+ other werewolves coming after him, he still wouldn’t want to do it.

Of course he’d thought about murdering Bucky—numerous times, usually envisioning some scenario involving killing the alpha while he slept. Unfortunately, Steve couldn’t seriously contemplate such things for more than a minute or two before he’d begin to feel awful and discard the idea. Bucky might be a lot of things, but he hadn’t been cruel to Steve. Not once. Not since the Blowjob From Hell, back at the prison, leastways. Even back then, Bucky had only been doing what he felt he had to, in order to protect Steve from the other alphas in the pack.

And sharing a cabin and a bed with someone and letting them jerk you off night after night, week after week sure as shit didn’t make the idea of murder any more palatable. Bucky wasn’t a monster. He hadn’t treated Steve poorly (other than, ya know, kidnapping and holding him hostage), and he’d clearly ordered the other alphas in the pack to leave Steve alone, as nobody had since bothered Steve beyond scooping him up from his various escape attempts and depositing him back at Bucky’s doorstep. Even the men who’d been the scariest, most aggressive, and most challenging of Bucky’s leadership back at the prison—Drax, Batroc, Killmonger—had respected Bucky’s wishes regarding Steve. And Steve was under no delusion that, if it weren’t for the pack Lupului having laid down the law on who was allowed to touch Steve, then a lot more people would’ve been, by now.

Bucky was undeniably dangerous. He could be ruthless and brutal, taciturn and grumpy, and he was hella rough around the edges. But that didn’t mean he was bad. Now Steve had seen him as a provider, a protector, and a leader; and along with his shredded body and his handsome fucking face, all that together was a damned tempting package.

Yes, Steve was attracted to him. And yeah, his body reacted to the alpha in a powerful, instinctual way. He could admit that now, even though he’d been scared shitless of the guy in the beginning. His whole life, Steve had always been a real believe-in-the-system, do-the-right-thing sort of guy; somebody who would’ve never considered getting involved with an ex-felon, or aiding and abetting a bunch of escapees from a federal prison. And yet here he was, fully not intending to alert the authorities even if by some miracle he did escape.

Here he was, considering just how upset he was over the fact that he was about to be forcefully mated to one. The answer was: not as upset as he should be.

He groaned in frustration and looked down at Wanda, who was still walking right by his side. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Wanda blinked her big, wolfy eyes at him and tilted her head curiously.

“It makes no sense that I like him. Or that I’m not trying harder to run away right now.” Steve smacked at a branch of underbrush as they edged along the woods. “He’s awful. It’s awful that I’m even here at all. I don’t belong here.”

Wanda whined and bumped her body into his leg as they walked, and somehow Steve knew what that meant: She was reminding him of all the good times he’d had with the pack since his arrival.

“Well you didn’t see how he treated me at the prison,” Steve defended. “And he hasn’t exactly been invested in obtaining my consent for most things.” He bit his tongue as he thought about how Bucky had never once asked for permission to touch him … but also how Steve himself had almost never said ‘no’ to those advances when they happened. Was it really inevitable that it’d ended up this way? Or had he just not tried hard enough?

Having someone who looked like Bucky and smelled like Bucky and acted like Bucky around him for so long, pressuring him into a relationship, telling him without words that he wanted him as his mate and mother to his pups … well that kind of stuff built up over time. Even the act of running away had been getting harder each time Steve attempted it—not because he didn’t think he deserved to get out of there, but because he hated the hurt that would flash across Bucky’s face each time he was dragged back and dumped in front of him.

Steve smacked another branch, and that was when Wanda became animated, nudging Steve’s leg with her nose. He took it as a cue to give her scritches behind her ears, but she only shook him off and started grabbing at his hand lightly with her teeth. “Hey!” Steve laughed, pulling his hand back. “What’re you doing?”

She nudged up behind his legs, urging him into the woods, and Steve got the picture that she was trying to lead him somewhere. So he started following. “Where are we going?” he asked her, amused, following along for a few minutes until they reached a dense thicket in a part of the woods Steve had never seen before. Wanda yapped at him once, ducking her head as if to say “Are you paying attention?” Then she went to her belly and began to crawl through a small pass at the base of the thicket.

Steve scoffed. “I’m not going in there.”

Wanda whined and kept crawling, so Steve rolled his eyes and got to his elbows and knees and began crawling in her wake. “This better be good,” he huffed as he pushed past a few thorned branches that caught against his hair and his shirt. “Jeez.”

On the other side of the pass, there was a small grassy area, no bigger than one of the cells back at the prison. It was chock full of a tall, purple flowered plant.

Steve stood up and brushed the dirt from the knees of his pants. “What? We’re going flower picking for the big event?” he looked at Wanda peevishly. “No thanks. I’m not a blushing bride. I don’t need a bouquet.”

Wanda chuffed and shook her head in a decidedly un-wolflike way, and Steve paused with a frown. “Well what then?”

She padded to the edge of where the tall flowers grew and pawed at the leafy bases of the plants. She nudged her head at them as if to say, “Here, stupid.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t understand.” He walked over and touched the flowers. They were pretty: purple and bell-shaped. “What is this?” he murmured, reaching out to touch one of the blooms. “Foxglove?” It had that look about it.

But Wanda growled and shook her head again, and she closed her mouth on one of the plants and pulled, tearing the flower stalk off. She immediately dropped it and moved her tongue in her mouth like a dog with peanut butter stuck in its gums, her pointy little front teeth showing as she sneezed in displeasure.

Steve briefly snickered, before he paused as a crazy thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute. Is that …?” He stepped forward and bent to pick up the stalk that Wanda had pulled. He held it up to his face with a frown. There was only one flower in the world he’d ever heard of in reference to werewolves. “Wanda, is this … this isn’t wolfsbane?” he whispered. “Is it?”

Wanda immediately barked and stomped her front feet in enthusiasm, and Steve looked at her in astonishment.

“The fuck? You want me to kill him?”

Again, Wanda huffed and shook her head no.

Steve looked between her and the patch of flowers, and back to her again. “Well what then?”

Once more, Wanda growled impatiently and went up to grab another stalk and rip it clean off the plant. She dropped it, sneezed, and repeated the peanut butter tongue thing. Steve didn’t understand what on earth she intended for him to do with it, but she was definitely telling him to pick it, growling and fake-snapping at him to urge him on so that she didn’t have to pull any more of the flowers with her mouth.

He might not understand the plan, but Steve’s heart leapt as he did realize one thing; and that was that someway, somehow, Wanda was trying to help him escape.

“Are you nuts?” Darcy said, right after she shifted back to skin and Steve’s eyes all but bugged out of his head at seeing his first, full-body werewolf shift.

“Oh.” He averted his eyes, but it was too late. He’d seen, well, everything.

Darcy stomped back to her bedroom—ostensibly to put on some clothes. Steve hoped. A moment later she returned, dressed in leggings and a tee shirt. She pointed at Wanda and said, “You’re nuts.”

“What? What’d she say?” Steve leaned forward anxiously where he was sitting at the kitchen table, right where they’d dumped the large clump of purple flowered stalks. “I already told her I don’t want to murder anybody!”

Darcy scoffed and came over, sitting down on the opposite side of the table from him. “No. She’s got it in her head that you can drug everybody at the bonfire. Put it in the harvest wine and zonk everybody out long enough for you to make a getaway.”

Steve’s breath stuttered in his chest. “I can?” He looked over at Wanda, who was lying by the woodstove and chewing on the entrails of the squirrel she’d caught for herself on their walk back to Darcy’s cabin. “We can? That’s something we can do?!”

Darcy scowled and rapped her knuckles on the table. “Hello, Earth to Steve. No you can’t do that. How would you even get it in the wine? Everybody’s eyes are gonna be on you tonight. You won’t have a second on your own to—”

At the stove, Wanda whined, and Steve looked over at her. She was staring straight at Darcy with a meaningful look. Steve’s heart leapt as he thought the same thing. “Yeah. Darcy: You could do it!”

“What? No!”

“Yes! Yes you can. You have to!” Steve reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Please? I don’t how much to put in, and like you said: I won’t get the chance. But you could do it when everybody’s distracted by the celebrations!” He looked at her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, Darce? This is my only chance. Please help me.”

Darcy complained and angsted over it, but Wanda came over and had a non-verbal conversation with her, which culminated in Darcy’s shoulders dropping and Wanda affectionately head-butting her leg. Darcy huffed in defeat, and Steve’s spirits soared. “So you’ll do it?!” he asked. “You’ll help?”

“Help you drug my entire pack on the night of a blood moon.” Darcy groaned. “Fuck. We’ll be in so much trouble if Alpha Barnes ever figures out who did it.”

Steve figured that was as good of a ‘yes’ as he was going to get, and he slapped the tabletop, unable to contain his excitement. “Thank you!”

Darcy glared at him. “Don’t thank me yet. There’s only one person I know who’s got the access we need to the harvest wine. And he could still turn us in.”

“Who?”

“Are you serious?” Peter whispered, wide-eyed as Steve took the lid off the basket and showed him the purple flowers they wanted him to lace the wine with. Darcy had just told him their plan, and now Peter would either turn them in, or help them. “Ohmygod you are. You’re actually friggin’ serious!”

Fuck, Steve thought. He’s gonna turn us in.

“Dude, I’m so in. This is crazy!”

Oh, Steve thought. Okay then. That was easy.

By dusk, the plan was underway. Peter had briefly shifted so he could wolf-talk with Wanda, who told him precisely how much wolfsbane to steep in the wine to knock the pack out but not harm them. Then Peter shifted back and got to work, whilst Steve, Wanda, and Darcy went about their business as usual.

Or, well—as usual as they could manage. Steve was excited, but he felt a creeping sense of dread as the day wore on into late afternoon, and then into early evening; as the village became more and more alive with activity and the pack started to gather in the clearing where the bonfire was being held.

People were bringing out folding chairs and blankets and food like it was the damn fourth of July. Steve would’ve felt more intimidated or embarrassed if he didn’t already know that the excitement wasn’t truly all about him and Bucky. It was a communal sort of excitement, an excitement for the pack Alpha having found his mate, which forebode stability and progress for the pack as a whole. Mating runs were a big deal in this community, warranting late-into-the-night revelry and partying, and with the significance of the blood moon on top of that, the entire village was bound to be out celebrating. Apparently, once Bucky caught Steve and dragged him back (yikes) then the entire pack would shift and run together.

Steve was ushered into the omega yurt, where he was prepared like a lily-white bride on her wedding night. He had to shower with special soaps, then dress in a flimsy white robe that wrapped around and barely reached halfway down his shins. Darcy and Nakia shoved him down into one of the beanbag chairs and rubbed the purple paste all over him. Steve scowled at the robe—a reminder that he was going to have to be naked for this event in front of the entire pack.

Not for long, he consoled himself. By the time the run was announced and Steve sent off with his head start, everyone in the pack should be well on their way to conking out. Even the alphas. Peter was on strict instructions from Wanda to time the bringing out of the wolfsbane-laced wine exactly thirty minutes before the beginning of the mating run. Luckily for Steve, since this was also the night of the blood moon—a night of great cultural significance—they could count on every adult member of the pack drinking the Harvest wine.

The pups of the pack weren’t anything they had to worry about. Wanda, who had the excuse of abstaining due to being pregnant and gestationally shifted, would look after the kids while the others slept off the drugged stupor. And while she wasn't in on the plan, Darcy had assured Steve that Jane - who was also pregnant and wouldn't be drinking - would help contain the pups once everybody started dropping like flies. Darcy and Peter would wait until the alphas started passing out, and then they too would drink the wine for real, to avoid any suspicion that they’d been involved.

It wouldn’t be easy. There would be a lot of terrain for Steve to cross in bare feet, miles to go before he reached the beginnings of civilization. He’d need to move quickly if he wanted to get down the mountain and to the nearest town before the wolves started to stir again. It was a risky plan, but it was the only plan he had.

It was a good plan, he kept trying to reassure himself. There was no way it could go wrong. It would work. It would work. It would.

Fuck, he was nervous.

In the yurt where he was being prepared like a damn sacrificial lamb, Nakia noticed his mood, and seemed to interpret it as the normal nerves of a bride-to-be. “Don’t be afraid,” she encouraged him with a smile, as she worked the Wakandan paste into the soles of his feet and in-between his toes. “This is exciting! It will be fun.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed, her smile not quite reaching her eyes every time they flicked up to Steve’s face. “Alpha Barnes is a good man. He’ll make an excellent mate.”

Steve nodded along nervously, aware that she had to pretend to be just as on-board with the run as everybody else was. Even though he knew that they had a plan brewing—literally brewing—to help him escape, he still couldn’t calm himself down from his jitters very well. He’d avoided thinking about the run as much as possible ever since he’d first learned about what would happen: chased naked through the woods, with a purely ceremonial head-start, then tackled by a humongous werewolf, who would fuck him and bite him (hopefully having shifted back to human somewhere in the interim, but Steve hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask anybody about that little detail).

“It’s a big deal when a pack Alpha finds his mate,” Darcy said, where she was sitting beside Steve and rubbing the paste into his palm. “The Lupului of the Haită getting married doesn’t happen often. Once or twice in a generation. Last time was when I was just a pup, when Alpha Batroc came over with his pack from France.”

“Batroc?” Steve frowned. “You mean that asshole who’s always challenging Bucky’s leadership?”

“No, the asshole’s father.” Darcy rolled her eyes and moved around to do his other hand. “Apparently in some European packs, the title of Alpha is passed down hereditarily.”

“But not here,” Steve muttered, because he remembered what little Bucky had told him about being Alpha of this pack. How power was earned; borne of competence, brutality, and natural dominance. “Hard won and hard kept,” he recited, recalling what Bucky had said.

“Yeah.” Darcy met his eyes while Nakia was busying herself down at his feet. “Things weren’t always so nice for us, before Barnes. He challenged for pack Alpha when Batroc Senior died. There were fights, but he won.”

Steve nodded and tried not to worry about what would happen to the pack once they all woke up from being drugged and realized Bucky had lost his omega. Steve hoped it wouldn’t cause conflict, but from what little he knew of wolf nature and pack structure, it very well might. “He’s a good Alpha for you guys?” he asked quietly.

On his hand, Darcy gave a comforting squeeze, and Steve looked up at her. “Yeah,” she said. “But we’ll be fine.”

Steve hoped so.

“Now you must sit until it dries,” Nakia proclaimed, indicating the purple paste as she finished with Steve’s feet and set his heels down onto the floor. Steve glanced worriedly out the tiny windows of the yurt, where he could see that the daylight had fully waned and evening had drawn in. “H-how long will that take?”

“Oh not long. Ten minutes, maybe.” Nakia nodded brightly as she stood and went to the kitchen to wash her hands. “This will help you,” she said. “It will disguise your scent and give you strength.”

“Sure, sure.” Steve wanted to ask if the purple color of it came from wolfsbane, but figured it was probably a bad idea to say anything about wolfsbane at the moment. “What … what makes the color?” he asked instead.

Nakia’s smile turned sly. “Special Wakandan herb,” she said, and would say no more.

Just a plant, then, Steve thought. Just an old superstition from Africa. He thanked her anyway, since it was the polite thing to do. Nakia had spread the paste in lines across his cheeks and down his neck as well, taking extra care to rub it into his bonding glands. Steve hated to think what the people in the nearest town would think of him when they got a look at him running down the street in nothing but the strange markings and his birthday suit. Hopefully someone would recognize that he needed help, and he wouldn’t just be straight up arrested for public indecency or hauled off to the nearest loony bin.

“Good luck, Steve!” Nakia bid him goodbye, Darcy trailing out after her somewhat reluctantly.

“It’ll be okay,” she said back to him at the door.

“Wait!” Steve pleaded at the last second. “What am I supposed to do?”

Darcy just gave him a sympathetic wince and left the yurt without another word, and Steve sat there wondering how the heck he was supposed to know when to go out there.

A few minutes passed, and he started to angst that he’d missed some cue, and that this might mess up the timing of the Harvest wine. Wanda had warned that the wolfsbane would only work for an hour or two, at most. With the distance he had to travel out of the mountains, Steve wouldn’t have any time to waste. He looked down at his purple hands and feet, feeling lame and worried. Then the door opened and Steve blinked at the man who walked in. “... Doctor Banner?”

“Steve, Hi.” Banner came in and walked over to where Steve was sitting, hands in his pockets. He looked somewhat sheepish to be there. "I've seen you around but we've never been introduced. I’m Bruce.”

"I'm ... drying." Steve shifted awkwardly in place and indicated his purple hands and feet. “Not supposed to move for ten minutes."

Banner smiled and sank down into the beanbag across from Steve's. “They sent me in to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“It’s traditional. Before the mating run.”

Steve fought not to blush at the term. To him, "mating run" sounded like it might as well be called "naked werewolf sex chase"—because that's what it was. It was still weird to hear people talk about it so openly, and Steve shifted in discomfort. “Um, no offense or anything, but why’d they send you? You’re not omega.”

Banner’s mouth twitched. “No. No I’m not. But it’s usually someone who can impart a bit of wisdom relevant to your situation.”

“Oh.” Steve waited, unsure what the heck Doctor Banner had to impart. “Um, so …?”

“I wasn’t born into the pack, either.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he leant forward slightly. “I didn’t know that. You weren’t born a werewolf?”

“Mm mn.”

“What happened?”

Banner looked down with a small, self-deprecating smile. “I’m a doctor. One night a patient came into the E.R. in pretty bad shape. I was a mandatory reporter back then, so when his bloodwork came back saying he was infected. I had to alert the authorities.”

“You turned him in?”

He nodded regretfully. “I did. The patient heard about it, and the next blood draw I did, he grabbed the needle. Stuck me. Told me ‘welcome to his world’.”

Steve’s lips parted in shock. “On purpose?!”

“Well yeah. I’d ruined his life. He wanted to ruin mine.”

Steve had heard of cases of healthcare workers being infected on the job, but it was always discussed with an air of tragedy about it—like the AIDS crisis had been, back in the eighties. Banner was sitting there talking about it like it was no big deal, and Steve couldn’t decide whether an “I’m sorry” would be appropriate or offensive, at the moment. He licked his lips and instead asked, “Well, what happened then?”

Banner shrugged. “Lost my job. You can’t practice medicine if you’re infected with lycanthropy. Can’t do a lot of things, as it turns out.”

“No, that’s not true.” Steve shook his head. “There are … anti-discrimination laws. It’s illegal to fire or not hire someone based on infection status.” The quiet snicker he received for that told Steve he was being very naïve, and he squared his shoulders defensively. “Outside of medical jobs, I mean.”

“Yeah, there are laws.” Banner’s flat affect told him just how little that mattered in the real world, and Steve felt his face heat with indignity on the other man’s behalf. Banner continued, “I couldn’t find work, after. Being in the registry and all. Got a taste of my own medicine, so to speak. Karma. I felt so awful for all the years I’d ‘done my duty’ and reported infected patients to the health department. Got to see what the world was really like for people living with lycanthropy.” He shrugged. “That was when I started trying to find others.”

“Oh.” Steve had never once considered what he’d do if he ever contracted it. It’d always seemed like such a far away problem, something that could never touch him. Something for other people to deal with. Embarrassed over his own ignorance, he looked down at his hands. “I guess �� I just always thought everybody was born into a pack, for the most part.” Werewolf communities were some of the most disorganized and dysfunctional in the country. Noone liked them because they were trouble: poor, crime-ridden, drug-addicted, violent. Steve had never stopped to wonder why that might be. “You don’t hear of hospital infections much anymore,” he mumbled.

Banner nodded. “Yeah. With safety precautions these days it’s rare. And when it happens, you’re kind of screwed. The packs’ve been marginalized for so long that they’re very insular now. Protective. Most of them won’t just take in strays. There’re too many traditions, rules, suspicions. But then I found this pack, and because of Barnes, they’re different. A lot of physicians won’t treat were patients, you know? Infected or congenital. So the pack needed a doctor. Barnes accepted me in. Gave me home, a family, purpose.” He looked at Steve meaningfully from over the rims of his glasses. “I owe them everything.”

Steve’s heart sank. “You’re trying to tell me I should be glad to be here. Is that it? That I shouldn’t be afraid of getting infected?”

“No.”

He crossed his arms, remembering the purple paste only belatedly and looking down at himself. Luckily, the paste seemed to have dried and hadn’t smeared on the robe. He looked back up at Banner with narrowed eyes. “Well I’m not here by choice. They kidnapped me. I’ve been trying to run away, and they keep dragging me back. So I don’t know what Bucky told you to come in here and say to try and butter me up, but don’t bother.”

Banner’s face pinched sadly. “He didn’t tell me what to say. He thought you might have questions. About what it’s like, what’s gonna happen. He asked me to come talk to you.”

Steve scoffed, unwilling to believe that. Bucky wasn’t trying to be nice, he was trying to be manipulative. He thought sending in a former human outsider to sing his praises would change things, would somehow make Steve happy or ease his fears. Well Steve had news for him: it didn’t. He wished so badly that Bucky was there himself. He’d rip the alpha a new one if he was—

“So do you?”

Steve looked up. Banner was watching him expectantly. “Do I what?”

“Have any questions?”

“Of course I do!” he snapped, frustrated. When the other man just sat there looking regretful and kind, Steve felt bad for having raised his voice. He pursed his lips and looked down. “I dunno,” he said. “I guess I’m still hoping to get away. I guess you think that’s pretty stupid.”

“Naw,” Banner assured. “I went on a cleanse after I got infected—some made up junk I found on the internet. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I spent a thousand bucks to have some purge juice mailed to my house anyway.” Steve shot him a ‘really?’ look, and Banner nodded with a wince. “Yeah. Trust me, nothing sounds stupid when you’re desperate. I'd know.” He inhaled deeply and pushed the bridge of his glasses back up his nose. “But, I guess if you don’t have any questions …” He started to get up, standing from the bean bag chair and heading for the door. “It was nice to officially meet you, Steve.”

“Wait!” Steve blurted, fearful of being left in the dark on something he’d long wondered. “... What’s it like?”

Banner turned back and blinked at him. “Which part?”

Steve swallowed thickly before he worked up the nerve to ask, “The first time. The … shifting. What’s it like? Does it ... ya know, hurt?”

Banner looked like he’d expected the question. “Well, it is painful, but probably not like you’re imagining.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s intense. Overwhelming. Really weird. But it hurts in a way that almost feels good. Satisfying.”

Steve scowled. “That makes no sense.”

Banner shrugged apologetically. “It's its own thing. There's nothing like it. No that I've experienced. The only thing I can compare it to is ... maybe a bit like having a knot or a kink worked out? You know: like a good massage; stretching sore muscles, or popping your knuckles; that prickling feeling you get when you come in out of the cold and your skin starts to warm up. It’s a relief feeling. Does that make sense?”

Steve sighed. “Not really. Kinda. I dunno.”

“Hey.” From the doorway, Bruce sent him a fortifying look. “You’ll be okay, kid. It’s really just a day or two of fever, and then you feel right as rain until the moon comes. That’s when you’ll shift with the whole pack.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, thinking about the particular shade of the purple-blue flower petals that'd probably already been strained out of the giant vat of wine by now. “... shift with the whole pack.”

He’d certainly do something with the whole pack, if this plan didn’t pan out. Like get ripped apart by them.

Bruce seemed to take his silent worry for concern over becoming a werewolf, so he added, “And you feel stronger and swifter after, even in your human form. You can smell better, all your senses are enhanced and you feel more in tune with yourself. Especially during and right after a shift. It’s exhilarating.”

Steve nodded, avoiding meeting the other man’s eyes out of the guilt he felt. Soon the entire pack would be drugged up and knocked out because of him—even Banner would be. “Thanks,” he said morosely. “For telling me, I guess.”

“Of course. I’ll tell them you’re ready. Someone will come and get you.”

“Great."

The door to the yurt closed behind Banner, and Steve was left alone again, sitting in silence except for the near-distant sounds of two hundred people kicking off a bonfire party.

He turned his hands over in his lap and stared down at his purple palms. “Great,” he repeated, this time in little more than a whisper. He wasn’t ready for this at all. He was scared, and anxious, and guilty, and not at all sure that he was doing the right thing.

Darcy had explained that everyone would recover, but it certainly wasn’t healthy for them to be ingesting wolfsbane. Steve was low grade poisoning an entire village of people just so that he could get away from Bucky. It made him feel crummy, made him think of the pale rings of scar tissue all the alphas had from the silver collars poisoning their skin, back at the prison. Steve cringed when he thought of how mad Bucky was going to be, once he realized what Steve had done. Darcy had said people might throw up once they regained consciousness, and Steve hated to think of hurting everybody like that. He felt no better than the prison guards, using the wolves' weaknesses against them.

But it was too late to back out now. The plan was already in motion. Outside, people were probably already being served the laced wine in red solo cups (or whatever kinds of cups hillbilly werewolves drank their booze from). And Wanda and Peter had stuck their necks out for Steve, in helping. All he could do now was soldier on with the plan.

Soon he’d be free of this place, and all the wolves would be right as rain, having recovered from the sneaky poisoning of their harvest wine. They'd go back to their lives as usual, minus one pesky human, and so would Steve. And it would be fine.

It would be fine.

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This has been a fill for @steverogersbingo, card SB3088 "stark contrast," square B5: omega Steve

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hexpea · 5 months ago

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Ch. 25 - Cancellation

The sun's early rays filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden hue across the bedroom. You woke, eyes blinking hard to the sudden sunlight just as you had those weeks ago. But this time, Satoru's sleeping frame laid still next to you. You sat up and watched as his back slowly rose and fell with each breath as he slept on his stomach, hands beneath his pillow. You quickly noticed how fragile he looked in slumber, his white eyelashes twitching with whatever dream he was having.

You noticed how light you suddenly felt. The weights that had been on you since the whole debacle started had begun to lift. You took a deep breath and smiled to yourself as you looked out the nearby window to the busy city streets below. It was all well and good...until you remembered you had to cancel everything for the wedding that was suppose to happen that day.

"Oh shit," you said audibly, causing Satoru to suddenly stir. Meanwhile, you snatched your cell phone from the end table next to you. You quickly dialed Seiko and brought the phone to your ear.

"Y/N?" Satoru's groggy voice mumbled as he sat up slowly, still on his stomach. His hair darted in nearly every direction; it reminded you of Megumi's usual look.

"Hi, good morning," you said when Seiko answered, your voice a bit subdued considering the conversation that transpired between you the night before.

Satoru watched you, rubbing his eyes as he adjusted to the light himself. He briefly grabbed his sunglasses from his nightstand as a quick form of relief. He patiently sat up, resting on his hands in bed, as you carried on your conversation.

"Good morning," Seiko replied somberly, voice crackling from sleep, "everything okay?"

"I...just wanted to see if you made any phone calls yet," you asked, feeling some trembling in your voice from the nerves. The prolonged silence after your statement told you your answer. "Like to the venue, the caterers, the...guests?"

"Oh, no," Seiko answered casually, voice still low, "no, I haven't done any of that."

You sighed disappointingly. You were hoping Seiko had made a jump start on the cancellations since you wanted to avoid the whole thing all together. But the consequences of your actions clearly had other plans.

"Right," you said through your sigh, "I guess I'll start that. We probably won't get any deposits back on anything, but what we do get I'll make sure to divvy it up appropriately."

"So professional this early in the morning," Satoru chuckled lowly, his voice quiet. You gave a small glare in his direction, a signal to keep his mouth shut.

"Okay, I'll start making the calls then," you replied with a sense of responsibility in your voice, bringing your full attention back to the call at hand.

"Y/N," Satoru's voice slipped through the phone's speaker with a hint of mischief, "I hope you didn't forget about our breakfast plans. I've been craving those pancakes all night."

His playful remark was clearly laced with innuendo, knowing he could be heard. And it didn't escape Seiko's notice. The jealousy simmered beneath the surface as they heard the playful banter between you and Satoru. If it wasn't for Satoru, the two of you would have been long married and Seiko could have potentially made better headway on finding the rest of the Sukuna fingers.

"Right...I'll leave you to it, then," they replied. Their voice was curt and distant, their voice noticeably colder than before. Though things didn't end explosively, it wasn't without pain.

Sensing the tension in Seiko's response, you looked back at Satoru again, whose grin widened as he played along. It was as if he enjoyed hearing Seiko's reaction in the change of their voice, despite the seriousness of the situation at hand. Before you could respond back to Seiko, Satoru playfully reached over you and placed a flat palm against your chest, pushing you back on the mattress. He crawled atop you so that he was straddling you while the phone was still pressed against your ear.

"Satoru!" You scolded through an intensely furrowed brow as he chuckled through his movements. You held back your own smile with an angry look, you felt incredibly rude to Seiko with your inability to control your ex-husband who was now essentially your present boyfriend.

Before you could return to the phone call with Seiko, you were easily met with a broken dial tone. They'd hung up. You continued to glare up at your lover as he dove down toward your neck and peppered you in kisses, his hair tickling your cheeks as he nibbled at your soft flesh that was still sensitive from the night before.

"Can you control yourself in any situation?" You asked sarcastically, pushing him off of you. You didn't have the strength, but Satoru quickly got the message and rolled over with your push, his body plopping back down in its original spot next to you.

"Do you even need to ask that question?" He laughed as you got out of bed and began to find your clothes that you'd arrived in the night before.

The rest of your morning was spent making dozens upon dozens of phone calls to guests and the other wedding arrangements. Your last phone call was to your parents. It was the call you were dreading. It was your second wedding and you were about to cancel it just to go back to the man you divorced in the first place. Needless to say, you spent quite some time pacing in the living room before finally making the call.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you dialed your parents' number. This call was one you had been dreading, knowing that it would be full of tension. After several rings, your mother's voice came through the phone.

"Hi, honey!" Her voice was sweet but somehow wary. She wasn't expecting any phone calls and thought you'd meet them at the ceremony venue. "Are you getting ready for the big day?"

"Hi, Mom," you answered, voice tight with a mixture of frustration and sadness. It was unmistakable.

There was a brief silence on the other end before your father chimed in. "Y/N? Is that you? Everything okay?" You could tell by his voice that your mother was making that face she always made when you'd done something bad. You could also tell that you were on speaker phone at that point.

Taking a deep breath, you began to explain the situation. "So...the wedding is...cancelled."

Another silence followed your words, a heavy lone that seemed to hang in the air like a storm cloud. Then, your mother's voice quivered with anger.

"Again, Y/N? This is the second time you've done this. What about all of the time and money we've invested in this?"

You winced at the frustration in your voice, feeling the weight of your actions again, but this time without regret. "I know, Mom, and I'm so sorry. I didn't want it to come to this, but...there are things you just don't understand." You referenced the pregnancy above all else. They still didn't know and you weren't about to tell them, not yet.

Your father's voice was stern as he responded, "you should've thought about that before agreeing to marry Seiko in the first place."

The anger you felt seemed to escalate as you tried to explain the circumstances and the reason behind your decision. You talked about Sukuna, about the danger that had become so intertwined with your life.

Your mother's voice softened, a hint of understanding finally breaking through her anger. "Y/N, we just worry about you. We don't want you to get hurt."

Tears welled in your eyes as you replied, "I know, Mom. I'm just trying to protect everyone I care about for now. Satoru and I...we still have things to figure out."

There was a long pause on the other end once more as your mother found her thoughts. Your dad was the first to respond. "We might not fully understand your situation, but we want you to be safe. We'll support you, even if we don't agree with your choices."

The tension in the call began to dissipate as you felt a wave of relief wash over you. In the same moment, Satoru walked toward you from the kitchen with a plate of pancakes. Satoru's plate was, of course, drenched in sticky syrup and covered in strawberry slices and whipped cream. Yours, he knew exactly how you liked them and they were obviously made to perfection. He lightly pecked your shoulder from behind as he held the plate in front of you.

"Thank you, Dad," you answered, leaning backward so that you fell onto Satoru. You smiled as you looked up at him, taking the plate from his hands and allowing him to leave a lingering kiss on your lips. "I promise I'll make it up to you both someday."

Your mother's voice softened as well though still filled with concern. "Just promise us you'll be careful, Y/N. That's all we ask."

You nodded to yourself as Satoru stepped away. "I promise, Mom. I love you both."

The conversation ended on a more positive note, the understanding and concern of your parents providing a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos of your life. As you hung up the phone, you knew that you had a long road ahead but you at least had your parents' support.

After ending the call with your parents, you took a deep breath, feeling a mix of emotions now that everything was realized. Satoru watched you with concern from the sofa as he ate his pancakes, you still holding your plate.

"You okay?" He asked from his seat, removing his feet from the coffee table in preparation to go to you if you needed support. His eyes searched your face for any signs of distress.

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. "Yeah, I will be. Thanks, Satoru."

He relaxed again, placing his feet back up and stabbing another bite of pancake. You decided to join him on the sofa to eat your breakfast. As the two of you sat, watching television, you realized what your next steps were. You had to return to Hokkaido and face the fact that you needed to pack up your things from your shared apartment with Seiko -- the place you once thought you'd be returning to for good after all of this.

In no time, you found yourselves on a shinkansen back to Hokkaido. Autumn was fast approaching and the brightly colored leaves welcomed you home from your view on the train. The chilly air stung your cheeks, but it felt like a refreshing change from Tokyo. It was almost bittersweet that you had to leave this place.

You and Satoru spent a few days sightseeing. It had been a while since he'd been to Hokkaido and he wanted to hear about everything you experienced while living there. So, you decided to give him the grand tour! After those few days, you and Satoru headed straight for your apartment. Your nerves had taken over once more, palms beginning to feel sweaty as you walked closer and closer to the building. You hadn't seen or spoken to Seiko since that last phone call.

The two of you stood in front of your apartment door with obvious hesitance. You stared at the peephole, taking deep breaths before beginning to knock. You had a key, but figuring Seiko was inside you didn't want to startle them.

"Are you sure about this, Y/N? Moving back with me..." Satoru asked you in a soft voice, sensing your anxiety.

You stood silently in thought for a moment before turning your head to look at him. "I'm sure," you gave a single, determined nod. "I don't want to run from this. And I know what future I want." Your voice shook a bit, but you stood firm in your resolve.

He smiled at you before staring straight ahead again, blindfold covering his eyes. "That's all I needed to hear."

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