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glossdebut · 5 months ago

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take a bite | MYG ★ 1

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: social drinking, mechanical bull-related injuries lol

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.7k so far

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! i'm aqua and this is my first ever fic so please be nice!! i will be crossposting this work and all future works on my ao3 of the same name. i'm figuring out how this works as i go, so please be patient with me. tags are subject to change with every update. i won't have a posting schedule for this one, but i have the first few chapters pre-written, so expect an update sometime next week!

CH. 1: Lay Your Cards Down, Down, Down, Down

Although this is the furthest thing from your scene, you can’t help but think to yourself that you should invest in some cowboy boots. You could make them work, you’re sure of it.

Even if you know you would never pull the trigger on purchasing any, too far out of the comfort zone of your normal style, the thought is the only thing keeping you sane—that, and the sound of Cowboy Carter blasting through the speakers of the bar, a welcome reprieve from the drawling, boring country anthems you’d been suffering through for the past hour or so.

You pride yourself on seeing the merit in all genres of music, you do. You were always the type of person who puffed up her chest when you told people ‘I listen to everything,’ uncaring of how pretentious it may sound. You mean it. It’s an asset in your line of work, and as far as you’re concerned, a little bit of pretentiousness is a small price to pay for the, quite frankly, baller route your fledgling career is heading in.

But a Western bar? Not the kind of place you’d spend a precious Friday night willingly. Another hazard of the job.

After months of skillfully avoiding the weekly Friday nights out with the other rookie reporters at the magazine, you’d run out of excuses not to join them. If four years studying communications taught you anything, it was that connections are everything in the journalism business. Even more so where the music industry is concerned.

So here you are, at your fourth stop of your night of bar hopping with your extroverted and extremely drunk coworkers, nursing warm beer and observing from the least populated corner you managed to scout upon entry. All things considered, you had been a good sport at the three previous stops. You just draw the line at square dancing with the people you work with. College may have beaten your fear of impromptu phone calls and talking to strangers out of you, but your social battery can only take so much.

Your phone battery, too, you think bitterly as you stare down at the low battery warning on your screen. Okay, so you’ll finish your shitty beer (because you’re not quite successful enough yet to afford wasting alcohol that you’re paying for) and then use your phone’s remaining juice to catch an Uber home. No biggie.

You’re in the middle of turning off your phone with full intent to work out the kinks of your exit strategy when you realize, with irritation, that your chosen corner is about to be invaded.

Your eyes land on a pair of black Jordans ( in a Western bar? your mind supplies, as if you have any room to judge in your Docs) and travel up, past torn black jeans and a black shirt, and just when you’re sensing a theme with this guy, your eyes reach a head of (regrettably, very nice) black hair and a pair of the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. Anish Kapoor would wail at the sight of these eyes, you think.

As if sensing your apprehension, your corner-thief raises his free hand (the other clutching a plastic cup of his own) palm out, as if to say ‘I come in peace’ and stops in his tracks.

“I can find another spot,” corner-thief says, the low rumbling of his voice barely audible above Texas Hold ‘Em. “I’m just waiting for one of my friends to get bored or injured so I can leave.”

“Injured,” you repeat, despite your better judgment to take him up on his offer and let him be on his way. But your phone is dead and you’re a little bit drunk, bored, and even for an unwanted partner in social evasion, this guy is nicer to look at than the frat guys playing beer pong you’ve been observing for the better part of an hour.

Corner-thief grins a stupidly charming gummy smile, leaning just the slightest bit closer to be heard better but still keeping a respectful distance. As if he’s still wary that you’ll lunge at him if he encroaches on your space any further. Good man.

“There’s a mechanical bull upstairs,” he says, using his index finger on the hand holding his cup to point at the ceiling above you both.

Of course there is. With your luck, you’ll also have to peel someone off of the floor later after going head-to-head with the bull.

“Not your thing?” you guess, glancing pointedly at his Jordans, and he shakes his head, huffing through his nose in what you can only guess is a laugh.

“No, I wouldn’t say so.”

He pauses, shifting from foot to foot for a moment before speaking again. “So, will you share your wall? I can look around again but this place is more packed than I would’ve pegged it for.”

You nod and he smiles again thankfully, taking the spot on the wall next to you. That should be it. Two strangers who don’t want to be here standing in companiable silence next to each other while they wait for their friends–or coworkers, in your case–to put them out of their misery and let them go home.

But… You consider your options, your phone taking its dying breath in your pocket, and you sigh, turning to him.

“Y/N,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He takes it with his free hand, giving you an amused look. “Yoongi.”

“What’s that look for?”

He laughs again, a little bit more this time, and your heart does a stupid, funny thing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted by a pretty girl in a bar with a handshake,” he says, causing you to flush and pull your hand away as if it’d been burned, your shoulders tensing as you take a sip of your beer.

A western bar certainly isn’t your scene, but admittedly, neither are bars or clubs in general. You got all of that out of your system in college where everyone was awkward as fuck or too drunk to care that you were, and ever since you got your degree you have lived and breathed your work. Your social skills were never quite up to par, but you didn’t realize you were this fucking embarrassing.

“I came out with coworkers right after we got off, so I think I’m still kind of in work mode,” you lie, and as if sensing that you feel slightly made fun of, Yoongi shakes his head.

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, swear,” he says, tilting his head at you. Dark eyes considering you. “Honestly, I’m thankful you’re putting up with me at all. I don’t think I’d be so kind if the roles were reversed. I know firsthand how hard it is to find a spot to breathe in places like this.”

You feel your shoulder muscles relax just the slightest bit. “I thought about sending you away, but I couldn’t help it. My heart aches when I see an introvert in need of a hiding spot,” you attempt to joke.

“At least I’m out with friends,” he says sympathetically. “I’ve done the coworker thing before. It’s a drag.”

“It’s weird ,” you correct. “I mean, I sit in meetings with these people. I avoid answering their emails all day. Why is it considered rude to not want to see them piss drunk?”

Yoongi hums in agreement, nodding his head. “What do you do, anyway?”

“I work for Look Here Magazine,” you reply, straightening up a bit in pride when Yoongi’s eyes flash with recognition, his body turning so his shoulder is against the wall now. You turn as well, facing him. “I write for the music section.”

“No shit? I’ve probably read your stuff, then,” Yoongi says, grinning.

He’s cute. Hot. You can’t help but notice, no matter how hard you’re trying not to. The way that he seems to carry himself in particular, you think, might end up driving you crazy if you’re exposed to it for too long. Maybe you’ve been living under a rock, but you’ve never met a fellow wallflower that still exuded such confidence. He wears it insanely well.

“Look Here covers a lot of big artists,” you hear him continue. “I’m a little surprised you’re hugging the wall, honestly. This place is nothing compared to music industry parties.”

“Ah, I only started a few months ago,” you admit, looking down into your cup. “Not a lot of bylines yet. I haven’t made it into a room with an artist that big yet.”

“But you want to,” Yoongi guesses, and you nod, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks impressed, impressed by you , and that… does something to you. Huh. “Shit, that’s… That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” you say. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, and you’re suddenly very eager to turn the attention away from yourself. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Ah,” Yoongi says, fixing his eyes to his cup just as you had a moment ago. “I’m a music producer, actually.”

You perk up at that. So that’s why he reads Look Here, why he seemed so interested when you told him what you do.

“Anything I’ve heard?” you ask, leaning in like he’s about to tell you a secret. Networking never stops.

He watches as you lean, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smirk. “Probably.”

You wait for more, but it doesn’t come. Shithead. So much for that.

“You’ve gotta give me more than that,” you say, and god, you can hear the pout in your own voice. Are you that drunk? Flirting for a lead in a story?

“I don’t,” Yoongi says simply, his smirk in full force now. Mean and annoying and hot. He hasn’t leaned away from you yet. “I want to know more about you, actually. Journalism is hard work. I’m surprised you have time to go out like this.”

“Like I said, I was forced.”

“Still. Spending time with your friends or family or partner or whatever must take priority when it comes to your free time.”

Why is he so interested? You scrunch your nose, trying to figure out what he could be fishing for here. You don’t make it a habit to divulge the details of your sad excuse for a personal life to strangers, but the alcohol has loosened your lips. Maybe you need to talk about it. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, anyway.

“My family is back home. My best friend is this insanely talented playwright. She’s constantly traveling. I see her when she can get some time to fly out.” You take a quick sip of your drink, ignoring the pang in your chest. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, how lonely you are. “Other than her, it’s just me, really. The dating thing… Nobody really seems to get how demanding my job can be, and it always ends in hurt feelings.”

There’s a long pause, and you’re worried you’ve shared too much. You’re enjoying talking to Yoongi. You know it doesn’t matter, that you’ll likely never see him again, but it would really, really suck if his permanent mental image of you ends up being ‘lonely weird drunk girl,’ even if that’s what you are. You force yourself to look up at him. The look in his eyes makes your heart flip stupidly again.

“I get that,” he says, and his voice is soft, barely audible over the music filling the space. You’re reading his lips more than anything, honestly, and you don’t let yourself look at them for too long. He may be pretty—unbearably so, you’re realizing—but he’s a stranger. A mean, annoying, hot, pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Every guy says he gets it. This needs to stay what it is, you think. Momentary companionship between introverts who would rather die than square dance.

You don’t get much time to agonize over it. Whatever is going on between you and Yoongi is intercepted quickly by his phone buzzing in his pocket and his responding grimace when he pulls it out to check it.

“Namjoon fell off of the mechanical bull,” he says, like he’s completely unsurprised by that news. He downs the rest of his drink and pockets his phone again, pushing off of the wall. “I’ve gotta deal with that.”

You nod, pulling what you hope is a sympathetic face. “Good luck.”

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you hold your breath. He looks like he wants to say something, torn between rushing upstairs to save his friend and staying, just for a moment.

You think you know what he wants to say, think foolishly that maybe he wants to ask for your number, and you honestly don’t know if you’d give it to him if he did. You’re so used to saying no.

He runs his fingers through his hair, opens his mouth to speak, and then he looks down like his phone is buzzing again. When he looks back up, it seems like he’s thought better of it.

“Thanks for sharing your wall,” he settles on, smiling congenially. You smile back, and then he’s heading towards the stairs.

Good, you think. You know better. If he really gets it, he does too.

★ ★ ★

You’re dragged out to one more bar before you finally make it home, your interaction with Yoongi having knocked you off-kilter enough to agree to a few more drinks.

It does wonders for your social status at work, you’re sure, but by the time you’re dropped off you’re dizzy-drunk, fighting to stay upright in the elevator of your apartment building.

You’re fumbling and failing at getting your key into the lock of your front door, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration, when a voice calling your name a few feet to your right almost makes you jump out of your skin.

You yell, clutching your chest, and when you turn to face the owner of the voice that almost made you lose the contents of your stomach on your doormat, you’re greeted by none other than corner-thief-mean-annoying-hot-pretty Yoongi himself, leaning against the door to the apartment two doors down.

“What the fuck,” you blurt out dumbly, and he laughs. At you! How dare he stand there, lean there, all hot and annoying and in your apartment building for some fucking reason and laugh at you.

“I was going to ask if you needed help,” he says, and oh, fuck. You were safe from just how deep his voice was under the thrum of the music at the bar, but in the quiet of your apartment building this late, you can hear it just fine. Feel it, even. Feel it in places you do not want to humor right now. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you do.”

It’s obvious that Yoongi is faring much better than you are, although his night clearly didn’t end after the mechanical bull incident. Faster than you can react, he’s right in front of you, gently taking your key from your hands and turning it in the lock, like it’s easy.

“Gonna make it in okay?” he asks, looking down at you. You force your brain to make words.

“I’ll be okay,” you assure him, your tongue heavy in your mouth. “Are you stalking me?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I think we’re neighbors.”

“Oh.” Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Just because he’s your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to do something stupid, like see him ever again.

“Give me your number,” he says softly. Oh.

You blink at him, and he grins. Gummy smile. You feel like you’re going to vomit all over his Jordans.

“In case you ever can’t use your keys again,” he clarifies. “I told you, those music industry parties are killer.”

And really, you’re powerless to resist. You give him your number, using all of your remaining brain power to remember the order of the digits. Seemingly satisfied, Yoongi pockets his phone and steps back, heading back to his front door.

“Goodnight, neighbor,” he says, unlocking his door with ease. “Sleep on your side.”

You swallow thickly and nod, slipping inside your own apartment as quickly as you can manage.

Once you’re in, you sink onto the floor, your back pressed against the door behind you. Your cat, perched on your coffee pot, stares at you in your drunk, flustered state, unimpressed. Offended, even, judging by the way she licks her paw.

You’re so fucked.

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iid-smile · 5 months ago

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can't get rid of me , fushiguro toji

a strong legacy to be left behind , chapter one

the series masterlist. | previous | next

cw: profanity, mentions of pregnancy (pills) but filtered for megumi's sake, mentions of violence in prison, you're broke, smoking cigarettes

author's note: sigh... im out of my fluff era 😞 (sorry guys) kinda wanted to write something that i think would actually happen in some sort of alternate jjk universe and um idk how far to go because this kind of stuff does happen in the manga, but writing it feels illegal??? idk...

"mom?" megumi peeks out from around the corner in the hallway. "who was calling?"

another groan escapes your lips, around the fifth one in the last three minutes, and you silence your phone once again. "your— excuse my language, shitty deadbeat dad keeps wanting to call me." you slap your hand across your forehead and lean back on the couch, a small creak coming from somewhere below. "apparently he's getting aggressive in prison. shut off the house phone, but they still found my number..."

your son comes closer to you, and you scoop him up, placing him by your side. he glances up at you, and you swear your fight or flight instincts nearly kicked in, (not that you'd be able to fight of a guy as big as toji anyways) flinching slightly from his sharp gaze. it sucks how he looks so much like his dad, because you loved megumi so much. but the image of that guy was almost too much to bear, and he's the spitting image.

"shitty?" he repeats. for a well-behaved kid, he really doesn't respect your words.

"don't say that megs, it's bad language." you swear around him all of the time, so what's the point in scolding him? "only your mama can say it."

"don't tell me what to do."

wow. okay. why do you feel threatened by a six year old? "damn, you've got his attitude too." you mutter, but you've only got yourself to blame for that. you knew you were never cut out to be a mother, so your ways of parenting weren't the best.

he snuggles closer to you, and you openly accept, moving your free hand to his hair to rub over it. "why can't i see toji?"

ah, this lovely story again. "because he left me as soon as you were born, love." really, you couldn't and didn't want to stop yourself from wrapping him up in your arms, feeling the need to protect him. "at this point, he's dead to me. seems like he doesn't feel the same though... i'm so sick of his ass." you also knew it wasn't good parenting to rant to your child about adult issues, but you've only got him to talk to.

that hug was out of comfort then. why are you lying to yourself?

he looks up at you with an irritatingly cute but blank face. "why?"

"god, i hate how many questions you ask." you speak under your breath once again, looking up at the ceiling from any sort of help from a higher being. the amount of times you've had to family-friendly-ify things that have happened isn't even funny. you're not naturally rated u for universal. it's more embarrassing when he recites those same stories to his teachers, and you get called into the school for a little talk.

yikes... here we go. "he lied when he said he gave me the right magical candy after we visited the stork. tried to make it drop you off back to where babies are made in heaven, but i wanted it to deliver you to me, whether he liked that or not." the story's got to be a little filtered somehow. you'd rather not get yourself in the principal's office again. "you're my little hero; a miracle to me. i would've given up on myself ages ago. your dad is a bad, bad man."

the type that would kill. if he found where you lived, or perhaps where megumi goes to school...

"and now i'm left broke in an apartment that barely functions, yet i still spoil my little hero." you sing-song, leaning your head back. "and with what money? i'm broke as hell, megs. can't even make both of us breakfast in the morning cuz your elementary school is too damn expensive."

"is this my fault?"

"...no. no, baby, of course not." you furrow your eyebrows more, a small pout in your lips. "if anything, you made my situation a bit more fortunate."

it's a selfish way of thinking, using your child to avoid solving your problems, using your child to wail and complain about how much you hate your life, but you've got nothing to lose. nothing to lose except for the one person you love.

you can feel your phone buzzing again.

"you stay here and watch tv, okay? mama's gonna go to the kitchen and talk to her friend." he seems a bit relieved as you let go of him, and you stand up.

you hear him mutter. "it's only playing the news though..." no shit it only plays the news, you can't afford to get a good television company that has any kids shows. that is, unless you wanna get scammed out of all of your money.

begrudgingly, you make your way to the kitchen, confirm that you closed the door completely, and answer the vibrating device. "hello?" you sigh, placing the device over your ear.

the other person on the call replies quickly. "is this miss—"

"yeah, yeah, it is. what the hell do you want?"

"um... we apologise, but we strongly suggest that you come to the prison building. he—" the guy's voice cracks. must be really nervous. "pardon me. he's been physically assaulting other inmates and guards, he doesn't follow orders, he never leaves his cell unless it's to visit the closed visits room. you know, in hopes that you'll come..."

obsessed much? where was this energy six years ago? "that's got nothing to do with me."

"please, ma'am. he won't listen to anyone, and we are unable to place him into special facilities as he doesn't emit any cursed energy." ah, he's begging? that's a first. you never would've thought you'd hear a person who works at a prison begging.

cursed energy, cursed energy, this talk again and again and again. "urgh..." you take a deep breath. your options are limited, and they won't stop calling until they can get that lunatic to calm down... surprise, surprise, you really don't want to go.

but if you were really uninterested in him, wouldn't you have already spent the bail money that's been sat on the counter for ages, neatly concealed in an envelope? wouldn't you have paid off all of your debts already? "will i— hm..." choose your words carefully, goddamn it. "can i get a reward of some sort if i go? money?"

"yes, yes! please do visit. there's nothing we can legally do to him in check anymore." ...you think this guy sounds a little too eager.

damn toji and his "supernatural powers", or else you wouldn't get yourself into this mess. finally, after your moment of silence, you respond. "okay. i'll visit."

"thank you—!" you cut off the line.

"fucking bastard..." you drop your phone on the counter, running your hands through your hair and over your face. "stressing me out for what? you don't even love me." your words turn into whispers. with haste, you rummage through your back pocket, trying to find those last few cigarettes, but as your hands were occupied, your eyes moved over to the ashtray that was collecting dust on top of the microwave. oh, right... you don't smoke anymore because there's no ventilation indoors.

you'd have to head out if you wanted to, but then megumi would be in the apartment on his own. and nobody can babysit, because you don't have anybody to ask to babysit. great, you can't smoke until monday. it's a friday afternoon. you have two whole days to get through!

you know for a fact your addiction won't hold out for that long.

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joelscruff · 2 years ago

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART FIVE

previous chapters | kofi | i'm honestly amazed that i actually completed this chapter today; as a lot of yall know i've been dealing with a lot of shitty life stuff lately and part of me expected this to not even get posted this month. and yet!! here we are. thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and amazing, this chapter is for you and i hope you like it 💖 chapter summary: you're starting to feel a bit insecure about your relationship with joel. perhaps a late night visit to his house is what you need 👀 rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, corruption, praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), fingering, handjobs, comeplay word count: 9k (woops) ao3

The rest of the week goes by gruelingly slow. Joel is busy every day and has barely any time to talk, so you mainly communicate through texts. The "conversations" are slow and broken, Joel only able to text when he has a free moment, which doesn't seem to be very often. You don't talk on the phone again, as much as you want to hear his voice, and you don't sext again either. It's a bit weird, a bit confusing, but you navigate it as best you can. It's not like he's ignoring you, he always responds, but it's just not the same as that first day.

you still wanna do this, right?

You type it around midnight on Thursday, hands trembling a bit as you hover over the send button. In one way you're afraid to ask him, afraid to seem clingy or young or inexperienced; but you're all of those things. When he's actually talking to you directly there's no fear, no question about what he wants, but going so long without hearing his voice makes you more and more insecure about what exactly he's thinking.

You erase the first message and start to type another one:

i know you're busy but

You shake your head and erase that one too. This is so stupid. Of course he still wants you, you idiot.

He'd said he was okay with the lie you'd told, had even said he would actually teach you guitar now too, but you're an overthinker, always have been. You can't help but feel dread whirling around in the pit of your stomach; he wants to end it, it's too complicated now. You've turned something sexy and fun into something ridiculous and unnecessary.

You lock your phone without sending anything and roll around in bed a bit, trying to sleep. Your thoughts make it impossible though, nagging at the front of your mind worse than your parents. You sit up and slide the tip of your thumb into your mouth, biting down in thought and staring at the blank screen of your phone.

What if you just...

are you home?

He hadn't sent you anything earlier to confirm he'd gotten back; you've discovered over the past few days that contractors really like to drink after their shift. Joel's been at the bar every night since that first day, often 'til late; you have to admit, it makes you a bit jealous to imagine Joel and his contracting crew out having a great time while you're laying in your childhood bed with a curfew. Bar hopping and partying has never appealed to you before, at least not when your college friends did it, but now the thought of it doesn't seem so bad. Not if you were doing it with him...

Your phone buzzes and you feel excitement burst through you at his reply:

Got in about 10 minutes ago, didn't think you'd be up. You okay?

You soften at his concern, cheeks warming. You don't hesitate, knowing if you think too much about it you'll end up changing your mind. You type your your response and hit send before you can talk yourself out of it.

can i come over?

You stare at the screen with bated breath, watching as his typing bubble appears. It takes barely any time at all for him to reply:

Of course you can. Door's unlocked.

Sneaking out of your house is much easier than you thought it'd be. You've never done it before, had almost expected the bottom half of your house to suddenly have some kind of security system with lasers and cameras, but nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You're wearing one of your old nightdresses, pink and frilly; you'd opted to start wearing them again the other day, liking the way they made you feel, accentuating your legs and breasts like your old Sunday school dress. You'd changed quickly every morning before going downstairs to save your parents from the heart attacks they'd have seeing you with so little skin coverage. But there's no need to change now, not with where you're going. You yank on a jacket and sneakers and carefully open and close the front door, scurrying out into the cool night air.

Joel's house isn't far, just a street over. You try not to run, as much as you want to; you know you'll end up all sweaty and messy haired - the opposite of how you'd like to portray yourself tonight, but your skin is practically glowing with anticipation. You hold the short hem of your nightdress down as you speed walk through the dark suburban streets of your neighborhood.

Your heart starts pounding when his house comes into view; the living room window is dimly lit. You jog up the front steps and take a deep breath before turning the handle, smiling to yourself when it opens easily; he'd really left the door unlocked for you.

"Mr. Miller?" you call in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and turning the lock.

He emerges from the living room and you feel your eyes widen. All he's wearing is a pair of loose fitting plaid pajama pants; nothing else. No shirt, no socks, and probably no underwear. You swallow, eyes trailing up and down the naked solidness of his chest, the greying hair smattered along the skin. He's got a softness to him, a bit of a pudgy belly that makes you want to smile, but his rugged sexiness is even more apparent. His strong pecs, freckled arms, the hair trailing down his stomach and into his pajama pants... it suddenly leaves you unable to breathe or form a coherent thought.

"There's my girl," he says, voice low and husky; he must have talked a lot today, called people's names, ordered them around, "C'mere."

Your brain is still muddled and awestruck as you feel yourself rush forward, arms immediately wrapping around his bare torso. His skin is softer than you'd thought it'd be, warm under your touch as you carefully press your cheek to his chest. You feel the scratch of hair against your skin, reminding you of his age; fifty six. The thought gives you an ache between your legs.

He holds you close and rubs your back, presses a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes flutter closed at his touch, fingers splaying across the wide span of his back. You find yourself able to breathe again, but all you inhale is his scent, fresh and masculine. It's then that you realize his skin is slightly damp, peppered here and there with little droplets of water.

"I just got out of the shower," he says quietly, answering your unspoken question, "Was about to get in bed when you texted but I figured if you were comin' over I should clean myself up a bit."

You hum against his chest, still not sure exactly what to say. The ache between your legs is growing stronger the more you stand here in his embrace; somehow you hadn't expected to feel this way just from hugging him, although you probably should have guessed.

"I wanna get in your bed," you say softly, opening your eyes again and pulling back to look at him. His expression says it all, eyes going dark as they fall to your lips.

"Then let's get in my bed," he murmurs, just as quiet.

The last time you were in Joel's bedroom there'd been more of a sense of urgency, when he'd sat with you in his lap on the edge of his bed and held you open in front of the mirror. Now things are much slower, more quiet. You slip in behind him and unzip your jacket, taking it off and hanging it carefully on the hook behind his door.

"That's pretty," he says behind you, and you feel him reach out to gently touch the pink material, hand ghosting the bare skin of your chest. Your breath hitches and he smiles, "Tiny little thing, isn't it?"

"I've had it for a long time, I thought you might like it."

"I do," he pulls you toward him, then reaches his hands up to thumb the thin straps of the nightdress. You watch with hooded eyes as he slowly pushes them off your shoulders, "I'm gonna take it off though, that okay?"

Your brow furrows; he notices your reaction and his hands freeze, "Not okay?" he asks, confused slightly.

"N-no, it's okay," you say quickly, "I just... I'm still a little self conscious."

His eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head, "You have nothin' to be self conscious about, sweetheart," he reassures you, "I wanna see you..." he pushes the straps down your shoulders and you stand there trembling slightly as he pulls the dress down, exposing your breasts to him, "There you are."

You shiver a bit under his gaze, but not out of discomfort or fear. You feel safe with him; you know he'd never do anything you didn't consent to. You're just not exactly sure what you want, what exactly you've really come here for. Before you'd left the house you'd been so afraid that he was losing interest, already getting tired of you; now he stares at you like you're some kind of rare gem, making you feel bashful and beautiful under his gaze.

"I wanna touch you," you whisper, the shakiness of your voice betraying your nervousness - or anticipation.

His hands freeze for a few seconds but he regains composure quickly, tugging the dress down further until it's cascading down your legs, putting you completely on display. He swallows audibly, taking you in. You look at his face and feel yourself pulse under his gaze, the way he's staring directly at your bare pussy.

"Let's get in bed," he murmurs, "I think there's a few things we can touch."

His words send a buzzing warmth through your body and you cross your legs unconsciously, an action that makes him smirk. You turn away from him with heat flooding your cheeks as you climb into his bed; it's large and comfortable, but you already know neither of you will be taking advantage of the big space. You sit up against his headboard and pull the duvet up over yourself, hiding your breasts from view - as if he hasn't already seen them.

"I'll keep these on" he says softly, tugging at the band of his pajama pants, "Don't worry."

Your heart leaps to your throat and you nod quickly - probably too quickly. It's not that you're scared to see him naked; you've already seen both halves now and that's taken away a lot of the fear, but the concept of being in bed together, both naked... you're not sure you're ready yet. And you're glad he understands that without you having to say it out loud.

You watch as he climbs into bed and positions himself up against the headboard like you, scooches in next to you so your sides are touching. His skin against yours is unlike anything you've felt with him up until this point; he's so warm, a firm and large presence at your side that immediately has you feeling intimidated. Your nerves are already beginning to set alight just by having him so close. You open your mouth to speak but are unable to say anything when he inches even closer, his bare waist pressing firmly against yours.

"Hey, you're okay," he breathes, reaching up to gently thumb your cheek in a calming motion, brow furrowing slightly, "You don't gotta be nervous, sweetheart, it's only me."

"I'm not nervous," you whisper back, and while you're not exactly being honest there's certainly something else you're feeling, "I'm just..." you cross your legs again under the duvet, "I'm getting really wet."

He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat that makes you smile a little, cheeks burning under his gaze. He reaches over and slowly pushes the blankets down from your loose grip, exposing you to him once again. He moves his hand down, fingertips trailing along your bare chest until carefully bringing one of your breasts into his palm and squeezing gently.

"You don't gotta hide these from me, darlin'," he murmurs, thumb dragging across your nipple, sending tingles throughout your body, "They're too pretty to stay outta sight."

You shiver when he carefully tweaks your nipple between his fingers, his gaze firmly set on his movements. You watch together as he plays with it, toys with it, rolls it between thumb and forefinger. The warm and tight feeling sends an odd tingling sensation from your breast to your pussy, like they're connected somehow.

"I'm gonna put this in my mouth," he says softly, "Suck on it a little bit, that okay?"

You can't help but feel a bit unsure, biting your lip, "Is that... does it feel good to do that?"

He nods up at you, thumbing your nipple again slowly, "Feels really good, I promise. You got a lot of nerves here, just like your pussy. Really sensitive."

Your eyes are hazy as you nod to him slowly, "Th-that sounds nice."

At your words he leans his head down and brings your nipple into his mouth, dropping his fingers and replacing his thumb with the warm suction of his lips. You gasp out in surprise, hand coming up to immediately cup the back of his head.

You've never felt anything like this; the suction of his mouth is so new and strange, that tingling sensation returning as you cross your legs tighter and whimper aloud as he sucks your nipple. His tongue is wet and warm, tracing the shape of you in little circles, while his free hand comes up to squeeze your other breast, tweak it with his fingers. Your breath begins to come out raggedly, brow furrowing and legs tightening together as he suckles.

"Oh my god," you hear yourself whimper, hand tightening in his hair, "Why does that feel so good?"

He pulls off your nipple with a quiet laugh, peering up at you, "Yeah, you like the way that feels, babygirl?"

You nod quickly, swallowing and trying to get your breath back, "Yes," you whisper, "A lot."

He smiles at that, "Then how 'bout you lay back for me?"

It's an offer that's impossible to refuse. You quickly pull yourself down from the headboard and slip beneath the covers, head coming to rest on one of his pillows. He slips under as well, then very slowly positions himself on top of you, a leg on either side of your trembling form. You look up at him with wide eyes, unsure whether you're more nervous or excited.

"You're okay," he reassures you again, inching downward a bit and pressing a few gentle kisses to your neck, "Gotta be on top to do this right, so it feels good."

You nod slowly, "I c-can feel..."

"What?" he whispers, "What do you feel?"

Your arms are loose at your sides and Joel's are pinned above you, but there's an unmistakable feeling of something prodding into your thigh, large and thick.

"Your cock," you manage to whisper, voice trembling, "I think."

"That's right," he murmurs, "It's 'cause I'm gettin' hard from suckin' you like that, touchin' you," he trails his fingers down your sides gently, making you shiver, "You like feelin' it there?"

You feel yourself slowly nodding, eyes going even more hazy and hooded, "I wanna touch it."

"I know you do," he whispers, "I want you to touch it too, sweetheart. But I'm gonna play with you a little longer," he leans his face down and licks a small stripe against your other nipple, making your hips buck, "Then I'll teach you how to touch it, that alright?"

"Yes," you breathe, "Please."

"You like when I play with you, don't you?" he murmurs against your breast, then captures your other nipple in his mouth and starts to suck.

"Y-yes," you repeat, hand coming up again to tangle in his hair, already overwhelmed by the sensation, "I missed it."

He hums, sending another cascade of tingles throughout your body. To think that less than half an hour ago you were laying in bed wondering if he still wanted you; now you're naked and he's on top of you with his mouth on your breast. How is this your life?

"What did'ya miss?" he pulls off for barely a few seconds, scruff scratching perfectly against your sensitive skin, "Tell me, babygirl, wanna know what you've been thinkin' about."

You whimper when he goes back to suckling, your fingers threading through his greying curls. It's hard to get your thoughts straight when he's making you feel like this, every tight suck and wet lick going directly to your aching core.

"J-just missed you touching me," you breathe, voice rough and wanton with pleasure, "Missed your hands on me, your fingers..."

At your words he carefully brings one of his hands downward, caressing your body gently as he goes. Your breath hitches when he swipes his middle and index finger down your wet seam, urging you to open up for him. You uncross your trembling legs, looking down to watch as he continues to suck on your breast while his fingers dip down to your wetness.

"Inside," you whisper, finishing your thought but almost giving him a command at the same time; he doesn't hesitate, immediately pushing both fingers past your entrance and slipping them inside your throbbing hole, "Fuck," you whimper, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, "Like that."

You can feel the head of his cock through his pajama pants, pulsing against your thigh, leaving a sticky spot in the fabric. The fact that he's getting hard just by doing this to you, getting wet in his own way, it just turns you on even more.

He pulls off your breast with a wet pop and tilts his head up to look at you, pressing little kisses around your nipple and then pulling himself up a bit to hover over you. You feel his clothed cock prod your lower belly and you shiver again.

"Wanted to be full again, huh?" he murmurs, eyes dark, "Missed havin' these big fingers inside you?"

You nod and tug at his curls, urging him to lean his face down toward you. He takes the hint immediately, smirking a bit before reaching down to press his lips to yours and kiss you hungrily. You sigh into his mouth, contentment and arousal flooding through you as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of you. Your hand moves from his hair to cup his jaw, loving the feeling of his beard beneath your fingers.

"Wanna know what I missed?" he asks against your lips, voice deep and breathy, "Missed this tiny little hole, so tight, all for me," at his words he curls the tips of his fingers inside of you, making you emit a loud whimper that makes him grin, "That's right, takin' my fingers so well, angel. Bet you could take three now," you feel another one of his fingers prod you alongside his others, "You want that, babygirl? Want three of those big fingers?"

You swallow nervously but slowly nod, tugging your bottom lip into your mouth, "Yes, Mr. Miller," you whimper, "Wanna be full."

"Good girl," he murmurs, brushing his nose lightly against yours, "You're such a good girl, aren't you?"

You hear the sounds you're making but you're not quite sure where they're coming from or how you're making them; you sound pathetic and breathless as he fucks you with his fingers, teases the third at your hole and leans down to kiss you again. His tongue slips past your lips and you feel the vibration of your own moans in his mouth when his thumb gently teases your clit.

"There you go, angel," he mutters against your lips as his third finger breaches your entrance, slowly pushes past the other two, "Thaaat's it, babygirl."

You tremble underneath him, feeling your body tense up at the new intrusion. You've had three of your own fingers inside yourself, but not three of his, long and thick and so much bigger than your own. You hear your whimpers turn into cries as his fingers fill you up, your own hands coming up to grip his back, nails digging into the skin.

"Shhh," he soothes, trailing more kisses along your face in an attempt to relax you, "You're okay, sweetheart, you're okay." And you are okay, being underneath him like this, being entirely at his mercy as he pushes your limits, helps you discover something new. It burns a bit, stretches and pulls and stings, but he talks you through it, whispers reassuring words in your ear, and you know you're safe.

He stills once all three fingers are deep inside, then pulls himself up a bit to look at you, pushing a stray hair behind your ear and peering down with a soft expression despite the depraved circumstances.

"How's that feel?" he whispers, voice gentle and soothing, "Tell me."

You're still making whimpering noises, shaky and quiet, but you're able to reply with the only word you can bring to the front of your mind: "Full."

He smiles down at you, brushes his nose against yours, "You did so good, angel," he murmurs, eyes not leaving yours, "I'm prouda you."

He knows what he's doing with that phrase; immediately you feel yourself loosen beneath him, hands going slightly limp against his back. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth and slowly begins to move his fingers again, pumping them in and out at an even pace.

It's amazing. It's so different than just two fingers, so much bigger and fuller - you've never felt anything like it; something so dirty but somehow passionate and warm. He kisses you as he fucks you with them, hovering over you with his hot skin emanating onto yours, wisps of hair from his chest and stomach tickling you everywhere. He thumbs your clit again and you moan loudly against his lips, your orgasm swelling in your belly as your hands tangle in his hair and pull him closer.

"You gonna come, angel?" he asks you softly, sweetly, pulling back a bit to stare deeply into your wide eyes, "Yeah, you're gonna come on those big fingers, huh? Can feel your pussy gettin' all tight around me, she wants it so bad doesn't she?"

You moan even louder as you frantically nod, "Yes, gonna come, gonna come," you cry out, overwhelmed by the thickness of his fingers and the way he's looking at you, the way he's talking to you; everything is just him.

"That's right, give it to me, sweet girl," he urges you, plunging into you faster and faster as his thumb rotates mercilessly against your clit, "Make a mess for me, soak those fingers, there you go."

You keen, high and borderline ridiculous as you stiffen beneath him and begin to shake, pitiful sounds escaping your mouth as you come. He fucks you through it, watching your face every step of the way and not stopping his movements until you've come down completely. You lay beneath him, chest heaving and eyes closing involuntarily as he strokes your thigh tenderly, reassuringly. He keeps his fingers lodged deep inside of you, not moving but simply keeping you full as you come down from your orgasm; you find yourself hoping he doesn't pull them out just yet.

"Can I show you somethin'?" he asks softly, and you open your eyes to find him still peering down at your face. You can't speak, can only nod as you bite down on your lip and try to catch your breath, your entire brain focused solely on the way his fingers feel inside you. As if he can read your mind, he's suddenly pulling them out and bringing them up to hover between the two of you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, suddenly feeling beyond empty as you pout up at him. He just chuckles to himself, still holding his three fingers - wet and glistening - in front of you while his other hand reaches down to the waistband of his pajama pants. Your eyes go wide, lips parting a bit as you look from his face to where his hand is and back again.

Without words from either of you, he slowly reaches inside and pulls out his cock, thick and dripping. You make a weird sound in the back of your throat, sitting up slightly as you peer at it with wonder. He's showed it to you before, it's nothing new, and yet...

"That's about the same width, wouldn't you say?" he asks you quietly, bringing his dripping fingers down to his hard cock and aligning them side by side; he's right - the thickness of all three of his fingers is relatively similar to the thickness of his cock. There's certainly different aspects - the length being the main difference - but the overall width is pretty spot on.

"Y-yeah," you say softly, eyes glued to it, "Pretty close."

You watch as he carefully drags his fingers along the thick length of his cock, still soaked with your release. He spreads your juices along it with his thumb and fingers, fists it gently and very slowly fucks his fist once. Your eyes are hooded and dark, saliva beginning to pool inside your mouth for reasons you can't even begin to understand.

"You just took three fingers," he continues, thumb tracing the base of his wide tip, "So wouldn't you say that answers a question you've been worryin' your pretty little head about?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, trying to figure out what he means. It's hard to focus on absolutely anything else when his dick is right there in front of you, practically begging to be touched, the fat head pulsing and drooling under your gaze.

"Oh, this is gonna be a problem, isn't it?" he says, amused as he continues to slowly stroke himself, "Can't even think when there's a cock in front of you, huh?"

The words snap you back to reality, but only slightly. You smile sheepishly as you will yourself to look up at his face and away from his dick, "Wh-what question, Mr. Miller?"

He chuckles, "You were afraid it wouldn't fit inside you, babygirl," he reminds you gently, "But it will, we just proved that."

Your brain slowly makes sense of what he's saying and you can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you; he's right. It had burned a bit, been uncomfortable for a moment or two, but ultimately you'd been able to take all three and enjoy it. You feel a smile spread across your face, and you notice his eyes soften slightly as he looks at you.

"You're right," you say breathlessly, smile still wide, "I did it, didn't I?"

His expression softens even more and he smiles back at you, laughing quietly to himself. He opens his mouth to say something but then seems to think better of it, pulling one of his legs back and moving to sit beside you on the bed instead of over you. Your brow furrows a bit in confusion.

"What is it?"

He just shakes his head, still smiling softly to himself, "Nothin', you're just... you're adorable."

Your cheeks warm at that, unable to help feeling a little self conscious. Now that you've come down from your orgasm you're suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, of the fact that he can see every inch of your body. You draw the covers up around yourself quickly, hoping he won't mind.

"Such a shy little thing," he murmurs softly, but makes no move to pull the blankets down again like he had before, just watches you with a smile as your gaze slowly falls back to where he's hard and aching.

"Can I...?" you can't bring yourself to say the words, feeling flustered and nervous at the very thought. He just nods and reaches over to touch your hand, strokes your trembling fingers in his grip.

You watch as he carefully maneuvers your hand toward his crotch and slowly places your hand on his cock. Your fingers curl around his girth almost instinctively, imitating what you've seen him do before. Your lips part, breath hitching as your skin touches his most intimate area, a place on a man you never thought you'd ever be able to feel, at least not until you were married.

It's soft. Not in terms of arousal but just in texture, a silky and smooth feeling you hadn't been expecting. You stare down at your own hand in slight awe as your thumb gently strokes along his shaft, brow furrowing at how different it is than what you'd imagined. It's surprisingly just a body part, just an extension of Joel that usually remains hidden and secret; it's not as scary or intimidating when you can touch it like this, play with it like he plays with you.

"Wow," you say softly, barely aware of it as your fist ever so slowly moves along his length, pumps him just once in that hypnotic way he'd showed you; he's still covered in your own release, wet and slippery, but somehow you don't feel grossed out by it.

"You're a natural," he replies just as quietly, and your skin heats again when you look up to see his face, see the desire and pleasure in his expression, "Don't think there's much I need to teach you, to be honest. My parts are a lot simpler than yours."

You smile to yourself and pump him slowly again, this time brushing against the wet and throbbing tip. He makes a faint grunting sound that makes your eyebrows go up.

"This part..." you say quietly, thumbing the head ever so slightly and feeling your heart race when it pulses beneath you, "It feels different?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, biting down on his lip for a moment, "That part's sensitive, kinda like your clit."

You nod slowly, pushing your thumb up a bit and slowly rotating it along the sensitive area. He inhales sharply, grunts again when you prod the spongey head with both your thumb and index finger, teasing it like he'd done with your nipple.

"Fuck," he mutters softly, voice heavy and breathless, "That's it, angel, you got it."

His praise is like a warm blanket, shrouding you in safety and comfort as you slowly pump his cock again, teasing the head intermittently and trying not to smile too much every time he makes another one of those breathy grunting sounds. You feel pride swelling in your chest, the knowledge that you're actually making him feel good pushing you to continue on.

"What about these?" you ask softly, stilling your hand on his cock for a moment to gesture toward his balls, round and heavy beneath the base, "Does it....do they feel good when they get touched, too?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice dark and full of arousal, "They do."

"Can I touch them?"

The sound that emits from his throat sounds almost like a growl, low and husky, "Yes," he groans, "Go ahead and touch 'em, sweetheart."

The tone of his voice is slightly desperate, bordering on depraved. Your eyes travel back up to his face and his jaw is slack, eyes hooded as he watches you touch him. You've never seen him like this, almost completely wrecked by something you did.

"Gotta be real gentle," he continues, taking a breath through his nostrils and reaching down to pull his pajama pants down a bit more for easier access, "They're sensitive too."

You resume your slow pumping of his cock with one hand while your other reaches down to lightly trail the tips of your fingers along the shape of his balls, round and tender. You cup them gently, teasing them one by one in your palm. He hisses in pleasure, eyes shutting tightly as he leans back a bit against the headboard.

"Feel good?" you whisper, trying your best to fall into the role Joel usually takes on, the role of the person giving the pleasure.

"Yes, baby," he groans, pressing the backs of his hands against his shut eyes, "Yes, feels so good, sweetheart."

Your pumping gets a bit faster, a bit wetter as precum continues to drool from the tip and down his shaft. It's unbelievable that you're really sitting here in a man's bed, a man about thirty years older than you, pumping his cock and making him come apart like this. You can feel yourself throbbing beneath the blankets, getting wet all over again at the reality of the situation, and when your movements cause the blankets to fall from your chest and expose your breasts again, you don't bother trying to cover up.

Joel groans at the sight, reaching over to tweak one of your nipples between his fingers, making you whimper, "You know what happens when a man comes?" he asks you suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure, "You learn about that in school?"

You nod quickly, feeling sweat trickle down your face as you continue to stroke him up and down, "Yes," you whisper, "I know what happens."

He groans again, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath as he begins to palm your breasts, "I'm about to come, darlin'. There's gonna be a lot, need to know where to aim it."

You bite down on your lip, trying to keep all your focus on making him feel good and not on the hands now squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples. "Wh-where do you want it to go?" But you already know the answer.

"Here," he grunts, thumbing your hard nipples, "These. Wanna come all over these pretty tits, sweetheart, will you let me?"

You nod, "Y-yes, Mr. Miller."

It's everything he needs to suddenly pull himself up from the bed and pull your hands off him, gesturing for you to lie back against his pillows. Your heart races in anticipation, eyes going wide and lips parting again as he leans over you and starts to jack his cock, fast and unrelenting. This is what he'd done the other night, when you'd talked on the phone; you'd tried to imagine what he'd looked like, making his own mess... now you're about to find out.

"Stay just like that, babygirl, just like that," he grunts out, pumping himself over and over as he aims the tip toward your bare breasts, swollen from all the attention he's given them tonight. His expression is tense and so is his body, soft stomach suddenly taut with pressure, chest heaving as he works his hand. He looks almost pained, brows scrunched together as he pulls himself over the edge.

"Come," you find yourself saying quietly, a shaky whimper playing at the edge of your voice, "Come for me."

Within seconds of your words your skin is hit with long ropes of a warm, white liquid, splattering across your breasts in uneven patterns. You watch with hooded eyes as Joel slows his strokes, groans louder than he has all night as his release spurts continuously from the head of his cock, painting you all over. His tense expression eases into one of pure bliss as he tosses his head back again, moaning up at the ceiling.

Wow.

Without asking for permission, without even questioning whether it's proper sex etiquette to do so, you find your hand travelling quickly downward to your wet pussy. You frantically begin to rub your clit, still gazing up at Joel's pleasured form, feeling his come slipping down the sides of your breasts onto the sheets below. You throb and pulse beneath your fingers, whining softly to yourself as your body readies itself for your second orgasm.

Joel looks down at you then, cock still in hand, slowly beginning to soften. He sees what you're doing immediately, and the devilish smirk that crosses his face is enough to send you over the edge.

"Fuuuuck," you moan out as you come, trembling in the sheets and curling your toes in pleasure, "Mmmm," you squirm and writhe beneath his gaze until it's over, then lay still and loose on the bed with barely any thoughts floating through your mind.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, both of you coming down from your orgasms and trying to collect yourselves. You can't help but look down at your chest, see the thick patches of come splattered all over your breasts, your nipples. How all of that could come from one person is wild to you; this certainly hadn't been taught in any of your health classes.

The memory of being so naïve, so innocent... it makes you grin. Because you couldn't be further from that person anymore, the one who did everything that was asked of her, never listened to her own heart, stayed on the sidelines and focused on math and extracurriculars and God while other people had these experiences. And now here you are - actually having them.

"I guess I'm not a good little Christian girl anymore," you find yourself saying with a shaky giggle; you suddenly feel reinvigorated, sexually liberated... free.

Joel laughs at that, breathless and genuine. He grins down at you, releases his cock and shuffles downward to lay beside you, "You're my good little Christian girl," he says softly, bringing a hand up to cradle your face, "You did so good."

"Did I?" you ask sincerely, "Be honest, I wanna know."

He just smiles and thumbs your cheek, eyes going crinkly, "You were perfect, babygirl, I swear." He leans forward and kisses you gently, sweetly, like you both didn't just do something completely filthy and depraved - but you're starting to realize that maybe it's normal to do things like this, not as taboo and sinful as you'd always thought.

When you part, you're suddenly painfully aware of the state of the bed, not to mention both of your bodies. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat, you've got come dripping down your skin, and both fluids are already beginning to stain the bedsheets. You make a face.

"Can we...can we change the sheets? And can I maybe take a shower?"

Joel chuckles at that, stroking your cheek one last time before pulling back to extricate himself from the bed, "I'll change 'em, sweetheart. You go get in the shower, it's right across the hall."

You slip out of bed on shaky legs, losing your balance a bit and having to grab on to Joel's bed side table for support. You both laugh, and you find comfort in the casual intimacy of it all - both of you standing there naked without any shame or embarrassment. It's strange and new but so refreshing, that familiar safe feeling warming your skin as you make your way to the bathroom. You pick up your discarded nightdress as you go.

You stare at yourself in Joel's bathroom mirror for a bit longer than necessary, eyes wide as they trail up and down your bare form. Splotches cover different parts of your skin, especially your breasts, nipples swollen and dark, not to mention covered in come. You feel an ache between your legs again at the sight and almost roll your eyes at yourself - when will you stop being this insatiable?

Unable to push down the urge to do so, you carefully drag one of your fingers through the layer of white splattered across your chest, fascinated by its sticky texture. He'd marked you, in more ways than one.

The shower is pleasant and relatively quick; you want to get back in Joel's arms as soon as possible. You try not to think too much about the implication of that desire, the safety you feel when you're with him versus the anxiety you feel when you're not and what exactly that means. You try to remind yourself of your roommates and their experiences, their ability to sleep around without catching feelings or getting attached. How do they do it? How do they do it when being close to another person like this is so intimate and special?

You change back into the nightdress after your shower and slip back into Joel's room, finding him laying in the freshly made bed beneath a new duvet. For a moment you think he might be sleeping, quietly shutting the door behind you and tiptoeing over to the bed. However when you get close enough he opens his eyes and looks at you, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"Hey there," he murmurs, reaching down to pull back the blankets on the other side - your side, "Get on in."

Your heart pounds harder than it probably should.

Climbing into bed beside Joel feels surprisingly normal, easy. You wriggle underneath the duvet and cuddle in beside him, immediately wrapping an arm around his solid form and nuzzling your head against his shoulder. He's wearing his pajama pants again but his torso is still bare, the hair on his chest tickling your skin. You feel him press a soft kiss to your hairline and you can't help but smile.

"I'm glad I came over," you whisper with a content sigh, "I was... I was starting to worry you didn't want me."

"Really?" he asks softly, brow furrowing, "Why's that?"

You shake your head and nuzzle in deeper, "Just me being self conscious and insecure, as usual."

His hand comes up to rub your back soothingly, circling it with his palm through your thin nightdress. He pulls you in a bit closer, kisses your forehead again with a bit more firmness.

"It's normal to feel that way," he murmurs against your skin, "But I do want you, babygirl. You're all I think about lately, I mean that." You shiver at his words, closing your eyes and willing yourself to believe that he really does mean them like he says. "Most beautiful little thing I've had in my bed for a long time."

You press a gentle kiss to his collarbone in response, nose trailing along the skin. He didn't shower but you're sort of glad he didn't; he still smells like sex, a deep masculine musk that you can only attribute to him now, a scent that makes you feel safe.

"I just feel bad...making us sneak around and all that," you admit, "I know it's childish and silly, but I'm so scared of disappointing my parents. I shouldn't be but I am."

"You're young," he says softly, tenderly, "That kinda stuff still matters, especially when you're livin' with them. I get it, honey. You don't have to defend yourself."

You grimace against his skin, "I just wish this could be more normal. That you could just be a guy I'm seeing instead of my guitar teacher," you shake your head, "It's not fair."

He pulls you in even closer with a soft chuckle, "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm lookin' forward to teachin' you how to play."

You make a face, "Hymns," you say with a roll of your eyes, "You're teaching me how to play hymns. I don't see anything exciting or sexy about that."

"We'll make it sexy," he murmurs, inching his face downward so it's more level with yours, eyes casting down to your lips, "Thought you were my good little Christian girl."

All thoughts suddenly seem arbitrary when he's looking at you like that, your gaze immediately going hazy as he leans in and kisses you deep, pushes his tongue inside your mouth softly and tastes you. You hum against his mouth as a response, thighs tightening together as if on instinct the second you feel yourself begin to throb again.

"Are you?" he asks huskily when he pulls away, eyes dark but tired, "Are you my good little Christian girl, baby?"

You nod, swallowing down your arousal, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

"You gonna let me touch you while I teach you guitar?"

You nod again, biting back a whimper, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

His eyes dart back down to your lips, hand on your back traveling downward to cup your bare ass beneath the nightdress, "You gonna let me fuck that soft little pussy while you play one of your hymns?"

"Yes, Mr. Miller," you repeat, leaning forward to bury your face in his warm skin and inhale him again, moan softly against the hair on his chest, "Yes."

He squeezes your ass for a moment and then brings his hand back up, pulls you to him and wraps his arms around you tightly, "See, babygirl?" he whispers, "Told you we'll make it sexy."

Joel's alarm wakes you around six, rousing you from one of the best sleeps of your life. You open your eyes groggily, feeling him lean over you in bed to turn it off, warm chest brushing your arm. You roll over in bed and cuddle into him again, humming sleepily to yourself when he pulls you in close.

"I gotta get ready for work," he murmurs gently into your hair, "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when it's time to go."

You frown sleepily but don't have the energy to protest, eyes closing again as you melt back into his pillow. You feel him release you from his embrace and press a kiss to your forehead, a simple reminder that this isn't some dream you're having, it's somehow reality. You smile and fall asleep again within seconds.

He wakes you up again after about half an hour, seats himself on the edge of his bed and strokes your hair. You peer up at him with a sleepy and satisfied expression, unable to stop the words that fall immediately from your lips:

"Kiss me."

He doesn't need convincing, still thumbing your hair behind your ear as he leans down and kisses you softly, bumps your nose against his and lets your tongue lazily explore his mouth, tasting mouthwash. You sigh contentedly, pulling back to smile at him while he strokes your cheek.

"Sleep good?" he asks you softly.

You nod, remembering the closeness the two of you had shared all night, the soft hugs and tender cuddles, the quiet intimacy you've never experienced with anyone else. "Amazing," you whisper.

He kisses you again before you get out of bed, then takes your hand as he leads you downstairs. You grab your jacket on the way out of his bedroom, still hanging on the back of his door. You look down at yourself as you both reach the top of the stairs, realizing there's no way you'll be able to walk home in an outfit like this without certainly being accosted by a nosy neighbor.

You push down your worry when you reach the kitchen, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face when you see that the kitchen table is set with breakfast; scrambled eggs and bacon.

"You made me breakfast?" you ask in awe, looking from the food to Joel and back again.

He laughs, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup, "I did," he says with a smile, "And as much as I'd love for us to just sit and enjoy it," he looks down at his watch with a grimace as he takes a sip of coffee, "we have about ten minutes before I gotta drive you home and then get to work."

You sit down at the table, picking up your fork and immediately digging into the eggs, "You're gonna drive me home?"

He seats himself across from you, watching you enjoy what he'd cooked with a fond smile, "Can't have you walkin' home in that tiny little thing, can I?" he says teasingly, "Your parents would wring my neck."

You groan, "Oh god, please don't even joke about that. If they knew..."

He just chuckles and starts to eat, looking up every now and then to give you one of those crinkly-eyed crooked smiles that makes you weak. You smile through mouthfuls of food and feel your skin alight every time you feel his gaze on you.

"I don't usually eat this fast, I promise," you say through a mouthful of bacon, covering your mouth, "It's only 'cause we're on a time crunch."

He shakes his head, still smiling, "You're so damn cute."

You try your hardest not to reach across the table and pull him toward you for a kiss.

The drive from his house to yours is extremely short, no less than two minutes. Still, you enjoy the short time you spend in his truck, his big hand spread out on your bare thigh while he hums along to a tune on the radio and gives you soft little sideways glances that makes your heart flutter. You can't help but feel like someone else when you're with him, someone more carefree and outgoing, happier and more experienced. It's only when you slowly near your house that you realize maybe this person is who you really are.

"Stop here," you tell Joel with a grimace, still a few houses away, "My parents are still home."

"How're you gonna get in?" he asks with an edge of concern to his voice, eyeing your house, "Think you can climb the fence?"

You bite your lip, "Probably. I've never done it before but I don't have much choice," you lean your head against the backrest in irritation, "God, why did I choose now to rebel? I coulda learned how to do all this shit when I was a kid if I hadn't been so obsessed with being perfect."

He gives you a sympathetic look, thumb stroking your thigh reassuringly, "I'll stay right here 'til you're inside."

You yearn to lean over the small space between you and kiss him, but you know there's always a risk of a neighbor coming out of their house and seeing you. Instead, you place your hand atop the one on your thigh and squeeze his fingers gently, giving him a small smile.

"I had a really nice night," you say quietly, unsure how exactly this kind of thing is done, "And morning."

"So did I, sweetheart," he replies, voice tender, "We'll do it again, promise."

With one final squeeze of his hand you slip out of his truck, tying your jacket around your waist to cover up your legs a bit. It leaves your upper half more exposed than you'd like, your eyes going wide when you realize how much cleavage this nightdress really shows.

"Here," Joel says, understanding your reaction immediately, "Wear this on top." Without giving you any time to protest he's unbuckling himself to undo his plaid button down, shirking it off his shoulders and handing it to you. It leaves him in a t-shirt and jeans, your eyes trailing to his strong arms without meaning to, the arms that had held you close all night.

"Thank you," you murmur, brow furrowing a bit, "You're sure?"

He smiles crookedly and buckles up again, "I'm sure, angel. You keep that."

Your heart flutters as you wrap his shirt around you, slipping your arms into the much too long sleeves and inhaling the scent of him - your new favorite smell - surrounding you. You're never getting rid of this. Ever.

With a wave you hurry down the sidewalk, feeling slightly ridiculous in your layered and baggy outfit but relieved that you're covered up. You eye the tall white fence of your backyard, trying to formulate a plan in your head as you go. Hop the fence, get a ladder from the tool shed and climb up to your bedroom? But did you even leave your window open? You can't help but feel rage in your chest for your parents rules, the curfew, all the nonsense you've been living with for your entire life. Why the fuck don't you have a fucking key to your own fucking house?

You can feel Joel's eyes on you when you reach the fence, still sitting in his truck a few houses down.

Please, God, you think to yourself as you slip one of your sneakers in between the fence posts and yank yourself up, I know I've sinned. I know I'm a mess. And I'm not even sure I really believe in you anymore. But please, if you're there, don't let me make a fool of myself in front of Joel Miller.

Surprisingly, your prayer seems to work. Climbing up the fence is relatively easy; you keep an eye out for your neighbors as you quickly pull yourself over and flop down on the other side, extremely grateful that neither your jacket nor Joel's shirt gets caught on anything. You hurry to the tool shed, eyeing your bedroom window as you go and feeling beyond relieved when you see that it's wide open; God bless Texan summers.

You decide to wait inside the tool shed until your parents are gone, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself with the ladder. You close the door behind you and sink to the concrete floor, heart pounding in your chest as the reality of what you've just done overwhelms you.

You snuck out to see a man. You slept in his bed. He drove you home so you could sneak back in.

Quiet laughter fills the tool shed, all coming from your own mouth. You grin to yourself and shake your head in the darkness, leaning back against the door and closing your eyes. Who are you? Who is this new person you've become? You don't know, but you love her.

You find yourself pulling your phone out of your jacket pocket and typing out a new message, but this time it's not to Joel - it's to your friends from college:

i think i'm officially a bad girl.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

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gotham-daydreams · 8 months ago

Note

For your Not [] I was wondering how would Alfred and Y/n's relationship post kidnapped will go? Down the drain? Sure, they may have some reprieve from the rest of the family with Alfred, but would they resent Alfred for causing them to come back to the manor? After gathering the clues it was Alfred that pushed them to find you.

Also would Y/n have eventually gotten back into contact with Alfred after taking their much needed break away from the family, to help figure out and find themselves?

Well, that's the thing, I suppose!

I have thought about their relationship post kidnapping, and honestly I don't even know if the reader will ever logically know the extent of what Alfred has done to ensure that they stay in the position they're in. Especially, well, considering how I plan for Chapter 4 to go.

Of course at some point they'll definitely be able to deduce that he did something- they'll be able to tell from the things some of the Batfam says and just generally how Alfred acts, even if said things they catch with Alfred aren't all as they seem. But if they'll know the full extent of it? How much he played a part in what happened? In what ends up happening? Maybe not, not everything but maybe enough to be afraid. To get a peak into the ruin and shitty mess that is their life, and the true extent of that ruin. But a glance is only a glance, y'know?

I guess that's the scary thing - for me personally, anyways - that they won't know right away. That even when it happens they'll have no idea, and for those moments where they remain ignorant, unaware, and blind- Alfred is their saving grace. The only sane person amongst the endless sea of madness and derange that is the Batfam. The only person that seems to under their side, that not only comforts them but someone they actually feel comfortable and safe with. Alfred is the only one they trust, and... well, I rather not spoil how he feels about that.

Though, for the reader- from the little they put together and the little they know, its heartbreaking all the same. They don’t want to accept it- who would? The only person after being stripping and taken from their life- is just as insane as the rest? The only person they felt like they could confide in? That they could trust? That they could allow themselves to be vulnerable with when the others were away? That person is just as insane? Just as cunning and- and tricked them too?

It ruins them, and even if I won't say much else as it will be shown when I have it written- I think what I've said here is a good enough image of how badly things get from there once the reader even gets an idea of what Alfred may have potentially done. Though even if they did reach out now, they would probably still hold the whole "everything is fine" attitude they've got going on, and just try to talk to him normally- if not then at least passively mention how the family is sort of being weird and giving you a hard time (will that cause him to stop them? Not at all, but maybe things could've turned out differently. Which may be a recurring thing?? Well- it sort of already is but yk!)

As for the reader reaching out- I think I mentioned this in an previous (albeit older) post a bit in passing, but the reader has technically been in touch with Alfred! Just... not in a way he prefers. They are technically communicating with him, but it's very one sided (which is by design) and... well, may or may not be one of the reasons Alfred kick started this mess.

If this didn't answer your question then I apologize! Feel free to send in another ask if you want, and I can clarify anything you have any questions about!

#talking daydreams #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #not series

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hollyhomburg · 4 days ago

Text

Prey Animals (7)

— Pairing: Poly Ot7, hoseok x Ot6, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader,

— Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

— Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

— Words: 4.7k

— Warnings: Past Emotional abuse, past psychological abuse, referenced mistreatment, referenced sexual manipulation, breakups, brief homelessness, Hoseok has PTSD, hurt/comfort

— Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! —

(Previous Chapter)

(Yoongi, 1 year and 3 months ago)

Yoongi brings Hoseok home one day. Like a little kid would bring home a stray puppy. Apparently, they work together somewhere.

Namjoon and Jin and the others have long stopped asking what Yoongi does for work, used to his cagey answers. But it’s normal as far as beta’s go. Each of them gives Yoongi his space because they understand that all beta’s need it. They’ve all had the same sentiments shoved on them.

Don’t crowd him. At least he comes home. If it was something we needed to know, he’d tell us. He’ll tell you if you really want to know Koo.

Seokjin’s not really surprised that Yoongi does something with music now, that’s always been his first love (before Seokjin of course) he’s always saying this and that, someone showed me this song during work, do you mind if I play it? It’s stuck in my head. And now because of Hoseok- they know why.

It’s easy to see how a person could get stuck in your head, the same way a favorite song might. Especially when it comes to Hoseok.

It’s the first time they learn of Yoongi’s occupation in nearly a year. The pack tries not to be jealous that Hoseok knows more about what their beta does during the day than they do. That he gets to spend more time with him. Hours and hours the same way that Seokjin used too.

They work at the same record store that gives Yoongi the freedom to make calls in the back (as long as he pays the owner off. As if that’s difficult at all. The owner is just like all the others, and bows to kiss Yoongi’s feet.)

But Hoseok doesn’t know that. Hoseok is just…Yoongi’s friend. Not his best friend yet but by far the person Yoongi likes the best outside of the pack. The only person who knows him that isn’t pack or family.

Hoseok is perplexed that the others don’t even know where Yoongi works. That he’s never shared it with them and that they don't talk about it. But Hoseok has never been in a pack with a beta- so it’s understandable that he doesn’t know.

It's Taehyung that explains it to him weeks later. "It's not that we don't want to know it's just- hyung likes his privacy and you know- he's a beta."

Beta. It's almost a dirty word. Hoseok doesn't like the way that Taehyung says it. Not when Yoongi makes him feel so clean. Hoseok doesn't have the best first impression of Teahyung in general but if Hoseok was being honest, it's mostly because he's jealous.

Jealousy is hard to admit. Even more when you’re at your lowest.

The day Hoseok meets the rest of the pack is a bad one. Arguably the second worst day of Hoseok's life (the worst day will come a lot later, about 900,000 words from now but you can be patient, can’t you?).

Hoseok doesn’t know what he would have done if Yoongi hadn’t seen him crying on a street corner outside of their workplace. The young alpha looked wrecked- smoking a cigarette with shaking hands and bloodshot eyes. Holding his shoulders oh so carefully. His heart between them aching with fresh wounds. The kind that takes a lifetime to heal.

Yoongi can never leave anyone to wallow- and he gets the story from Hoseok over a warm cup of hot cocoa in the shitty break room. Eyeing the old telephone and begging it not to ring. And the whole time Hoseok feels like he’s drinking down the beta across from him.

Yoongi smells like hot cocoa, warm and comforting. Comfort that he needs desperately right now.

Under Yoongi’s gaze, Hoseok certainly feels like he’s the one being devoured or judged. Like the weighing of the hearts- will Hoseok be able to weigh enough to be loved? Or will Yoongi find him unsatisfactory just like his last pack? Unable to give enough. Undeserving of any and all affection.

It takes Hoseok a long time to come clean about it, to tell Yoongi what his last pack has done to him. It takes even longer for the beta to understand. Years and years of friendship and love.

But the short answer comes sooner. Yoongi asks him why Hoseok’s pack kicked him out later that night when he’s curling up in the pack’s apartment. Because Hoseok didn’t have another place to stay and Yoongi wasn’t the type of friend to let Hoseok sleep in his car when they’ve got a perfectly good couch. It feels a bit too much like how Seokjin came into his life. But Yoongi keeps his parallels to himself.

Yoongi asks why Hoseok’s pack dumped him out of the blue. Yoongi honestly hasn’t seen one red flag in Hoseok, and Yoongi would know because he’s naturally suspicious of people.

Jung Hoseok has always seemed nice enough. They’ve worked together for a few months now. Their banter over records and cd's and old sound systems that honestly weren't worth much is as good as his banter with Jin. His opinions on 90's rap are a little pedestrian sure, but they've both bonded over their mutual love of music quite a bit over the last few months. Enough to be friends.

"In another life, I think I could have been a producer."

"Really? You strike me more as a dancer." Yoongi had rewarded him with a shitty impression of the worm and in turn, Hoseok had rewarded Yoongi with a bright laugh that's almost better than 99% of the music he's ever listened to.

Almost- he still thinks Stick Season is a perfect album.

Hoseok is basically homeless. Functionally homeless. He’d be sleeping in his car tonight if it wasn’t for Yoongi. He’s a deadbeat alpha without a pack to call his own. A lone wolf if ever there was one. This morning, just this morning he’d woken up to the apartment empty. Everything but the bed gone. The walls vacant of pictures and the hallways silent of laughter. The lease expired; the keys handed over. Alone and on his own and without a place to sleep tonight.

But thankfully, not for long. Yoongi had found him crying in the rain outside of the record store, dragged him inside, and that was that.

Yoongi’s pack has been so kind to him. Kinder than he deserves, offering a place to stay after a short phone call. Yoongi’s phone lighting up across that small table in the breakroom with approval and invitation’s that Hoseok is almost too insecure to accept. Almost.

But he does need a place to stay.

Standing in the doorway of the pack’s apartment. He shouts apologies and thank you’s to anyone who will listen while two of Yoongi’s packmates help carry in his boxes and the other three finish clearing a corner of their spare bedroom for him. (Hoseok does deserve it, it's just his stupid and shitty internal monologue that has him convinced otherwise.)

They set him up in his own space down the hall from the pack’s bedroom. Half a reading room with a cot and the other side occupied by an honestly massive pile of clothes. Hoseok doesn’t mind- it smells good in here. Like their fresh-smelling fabric softener but also a little bit like the inside of a sweet shop with how sugary everyone smells.

Not like his scent, his old pack mates had always told him he smelled like sugar burning, caramel, Heavy on the burn.

Hoseok has maybe three plastic bins full of clothes to his name that act as a side table to the single bed. Apparently one of Yoongi’s alphas (the one who smells like cinnamon and pepper) likes to stay up late and read in here instead of keeping his pack mates up with a reading light. Ownership of this space has easily been transferred to Hoseok. They’d made this small space for him. Although the books were taken out regardless of Hoseok's mutable protests not to make a fuss for him. He didn’t need much space.

Hoseok can’t remember the alpha's name or remember if he’d even heard it. They’d called him darling so much that it might just as well have been his name. Jealousy chafes and Hoseok's never been a good enough alpha to receive that kind of affection. He’s never earned that kind of pet name.

It had been a bit of a slap in the face to see the two omegas treat that alpha with such a kind hand, ruffling his head and loosening his tie for him. Being tactile with him in a way that Hoseok had only ever dared to dream about. Now he and Yoongi sit on the edge of the small bed that smells like that alpha; an appropriate distance away on the too-fluffy blanket and Hoseok- Hoseok just feels so touch starved it hurts.

He won’t get casual affection like the other alpha did, least of all from Yoongi. He’s the beta- the desirable one. Maybe in the next life he can be reborn as a beta, so he’ll get that easy affection. It seems only right when he’d been denied it so much in this life. Hoseok has had the hope burned out of him; he doesn’t have much faith in this this- that things could change enough to accommodate what he wants.

Yoongi’s eyes are warm in the half-light, so warm even if the question is so cold.

"Why did they dump you anyway?"

Hoseok’s hands play with the blanket, thick and fluffy. “I don’t think they ever really wanted me, just an alpha.”

“All omega’s?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi sighs.

It’s hard to admit when Hoseok had tried so futilely to earn their love for so many years. But he vomits out the words now, begging Yoongi to understand. “As long as one of them wasn’t in heat they basically just ignored me. They’d make me go on suppressants for my rut so that I didn’t have them, but they were making me sick. When I told them I wanted to go off of them and spend my rut with them- they cut me off- and said no one would want to deal with an alpha who has ruts as bad as mine. That I was asking for too much.” The tremble in Hoseok’s hands is a near thing, covered by Yoongi’s and a reassuring squeeze. “I just wish they’d done it directly instead of leaving a note.”

Yoongi looks nearly breathless. “They didn’t have the balls to tell you to your face?”

“No, and remember, all omega’s.”

Yoongi rolls his tongue against the inside of his teeth, it feels…special, and important. Having someone angry on his behalf. Hoseok hasn’t had anyone angry for him and not at him in a long long time.

“What a bunch of assholes.”

A day ago, Hoseok would have defended them, now, he’s just silent.

Internally, Yoongi snorts and thinks that no one's ruts can be worse than Jimin’s. He still has bruises from the last time- hickeys shaped like a literal heart on his happy trail hidden by his thick sweater. But he has more pressing issues right now as he watches the gentle tears drift down Hoseok’s cheeks. Hoseok’s hands tighten on the coverlet.

“Hyung, was I? Was I asking for too much?”

Hoseok sees Yoongi’s jaw roll again, and the beta goes from smelling like chocolate to smelling like the ocean entirely, the sweetness dimming. Yoongi smells like the ocean at night when he's angry, salt and hidden brine. So at odds with his chocolate scent. So opposite. Beta's always smell a little despondent. Their happy and sad scents never match up. Hoseok’s almost sorry he asked.

“No Hobi. You weren’t asking for too much at all.”

Yoongi pulls Hoseok’s head to rest against his shoulder. Letting him stay there until Hoseok’s tears have dried and his sobs have become little hiccups.

That night Hoseok sees the two omegas kiss each of their pack mates on the forehead. They spend special time with the pack alpha. They linger in the hallway outside of the spare bedroom, door open because it’s not Hoseok’s door to close. Completely aware that he’s there, that he’s watching, and yet the pack alpha does nothing about it.

He- Namjoon- is a happy sandwich between the two omegas’, with a hand on either side of their waists. He smiles good-naturedly at Hobi from the doorway and tells him he can stay as long as he wants too.

Wants too, not needs. Namjoon is very careful with his words. Generous with them.

Hoseok doesn’t understand why they’re treating him so well. Namjoon’s alpha instincts must be screaming at him to not let a stranger get close to his omegas or his pups (he’s heard him, and his omega refer to the three youngest as such- it’s an affectionate title, similar to calling someone ‘baby’).

It would be natural for them to feel uncomfortable with a stranger in their den. But Hoseok never senses any distaste from Namjoon nor from the other two alphas- Taehyung (darling) and Jimin.

Hoseok hardly sleeps that night, tossing and turning, nose itching from all the new scents echoing from down the hall. He gives up sometime after 4 am, quieting the restlessness in his bones in the one way he knows how.

By being useful.

Namjoon usually wakes up first. He has to be at the hospital by 7 am for his shift and waking up early has always been difficult for the alpha. He almost walks into the wall, the thud resonating in their apartment. Blinking dimly when he looks at the spread stretched out before them on the dining room table tucked into the corner of the kitchen. Hoseok smiles and finishes wiping off the counters with a beaming smile.

He hopes it’s enough.

“Good morning! I hope you don’t mind but I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you letting me sleep here- I’m not the best cook but breakfast is my-” Hoseok’s smile fades when he takes in Namjoon’s wide eyes. The alpha blinks away his sleepiness in the doorway. Before rubbing at his eyes like what he’s seeing can’t possibly be real. “Specialty…”

Hoseok is panicked, all but ringing his hands. “Of course you don’t like it- oh my god did I overstep? I’m sorry pack alpha I know this is your den I shouldn’t have been so-”

Stupid . Hoseok had fucked up. Again. He’s barely been here for 18 hours. Must be some sort of record.

Before Namjoon can answer Seokjin stumbles out of the bedroom nearly hip-checking Namjoon. Not expecting the alpha to be just standing there dumbly. He’s pretty tall for an omega. Both of them a bit uncoordinated especially half asleep. Namjoon almost trips, Seokjin catches him. “Don’t bump into any more walls I’ve got you I’ll make coffee in a second just let me-” he blinks too, stopping.

Hoseok has made Omurice and cinnamon toast with sugar. A plate of poached eggs and a bowl of cut bananas and strawberries. Creamy hollandaise sauce too. Pancake batter is in the works, the coffee pot already gurgling. Ready to be pipped out at request. And the dishes, the dishes are already done and on the drying rack. The table set for seven people.

Hoseok even had time to water Tae's plants. a plant collection that will nearly triple in size in the next few years because Namjoon won’t be able to resist giving them to Hobi. A gentle alpha. An alpha like him- that likes to see things grow. There will be bonsai trees and cyclamens and itty-bitty orchids from trader joes. Everything that grows will point to Hoseok. Like a sunflower tilting in the direction of the sun.

“I have a bit of a green thumb. I hope you don’t mind. I noticed your pithos was a bit dry.” Seokjin can’t help but look at Hoseok and think that taking care of things for someone is it’s own special type of flirting.

Dimly, Seokjin remembers last night, quiet questions over dinner, “do you like to cook Hoseok-shii?”

“Not really, I’m really good at making breakfast foods but everything else is sort of out of my depth omega-shii. If you want, I can do the dishes?”

“Please, call me Hyung, everyone else does, and the dishes can wait for the morning. You’ve had a tough day, you deserve some rest.”

The two of them blink and blink at Hoseok stunned that the alpha has made them a full breakfast. And did it so quietly. None of them are heavy sleepers (besides Yoongi and Jungkook) Namjoon doesn’t know how he didn’t hear anything.

The alpha is quiet, stealthy almost. And Jin’s heart hurts when he thinks of why that might be. Even now, the alpha struggles to meet Jin’s eyes. He doesn’t have the same problem with meeting Namjoon’s.

Seokjin all but pushed the pack alpha in his direction.

A few minutes later Hoseok tries to hide his shy smile as Namjoon and Seokjin both let out simply pornographic moans at the taste of Hoseok’s food. Sitting on either side of him, Namjoon piles his plate high with food. “I'm only really good with breakfast food, I can’t make anything else.” But neither of them seems to hear him. Seokjin pouts down at Hoseok, a little bit of runny egg yellowing the corner of his mouth. Narrowing his eyes.

“Can we keep you?”

Namjoon's words are muffled by the 6th pancake of the morning, hunched over his plate. "phfuck off he's phmine."

Hoseok falls into their pack easily. It's not all romantic at first.

He walks with Tae home and helps Jimin with the laundry. He cooks breakfast and wears Seokjin’s apron and helps do the dishes. He likes being helpful. He goes on runs with Jungkook every morning to keep an eye on him- in case he has an episode while he’s running. He’s the only one who can really keep up with the youngest. He’s the one who has the idea of getting Jungkook a smartwatch to track his heart rate and therefore his seizures. All of them connect their phones to the app and check-in. Especially when they don’t want to bug Jungkook but still want to make sure their precious youngest omega is okay.

Even if Hoseok is wary of omegas in general given his history; he’d never let the younger suffer through it alone.

Yoongi’s only known Hoseok for a couple of months and still- He’s the jumpiest alpha that Yoongi’s ever met. He puts Jimin to shame (Jimin’s job keeps him so on edge, the tenseness that he only loosens when he comes home). Flinching especially around Seokjin and Jungkook. But every inch of him goes calm when Yoongi is in the room.

Yoongi had noticed the same thing in the record store.

The Flinching, the tentativeness, the fear that lurks underneath Hoseok’s skin. That only points to one thing. Hoseok checks his phone obsessively the first few weeks but then less as time goes on and Yoongi thinks good.

Good, they didn’t deserve you.

Hoseok never brings up any physical abuse that he might have suffered at the hands of his old packmates. Hoseok won't even say their names, still too trauma-ridden that all he can say is ‘this one’ or ‘that one’ or ‘the pack omega’ when Yoongi asks him about his old pack. Usually on their late-night drives when their hands tangle over the center console and Hoseok feels safe enough to talk about them.

He'll feel safe enough to talk about them with the others too eventually, but it takes baby steps to incorporate him into the pack. He still can't even say their names and after the first few months as they fade from relevancy, Yoongi doesn’t ask.

All in all, that’s probably a good thing, Yoongi had half a mind to track them down and orchestrate some sort of accident for them otherwise. But if you could manage to hurt a person like Hoseok, as sunshiny and as genuinely good as he is, they must be twice the monsters that Yoongi is. It’s probably for the best that Hoseok never mentions them by name.

Names have weight.

At work, The record store owner’s beady eyes flicker from Yoongi to Hoseok. He notices when they start to come and go from the shop together. And he starts to sync their shifts. Anything to keep someone from the Min family happy. Maybe Yoongi would carry that good opinion back to his grandfather and lead to better business. Yoongi knows the owners motives and as much as he hates to admit it- It’s nice to lean into Hoseok on their walk to the subway, to sit close and share a pair of earbuds while they scroll through some YouTube videos.

He and Hoseok have a lot of the same interests. But as time goes on- Yoongi starts to get a little worried about Hoseok’s proximity to Yoongi’s job- the one he doesn’t talk about with anyone in his pack. Hoseok just assumes he does acquisitions and inventory for the store owner, which is why he’s constantly ducking into the backroom whenever the old phone rings.

It was the same way at the coffee shop, but Hoseok and Seokjin never knew to compare notes.

Sometimes the family needs more from him than a simple phone call, and Hoseok is too close to it now. It’s easy to lie even if Yoongi hates lying to his packmates. He tells Seokjin that he has to work and tells Hoseok that he doesn’t. And it’s easy to slip away.

Usually, Yoongi finds himself at a hotel or to a different part of the city, far away from his packmates. Yoongi hates meeting in person but sometimes it can’t be avoided. Often times the rooms he enters are too fine and expensive for his tastes. Chandeliers dripping with diamonds and fine velvet interiors at odds with his ripped jeans and old band t-shirts that make him feel wholly out of place.

Yoongi’s conducted these meetings in so many places, in the back of limousines, the back rooms of bars and clubs, a pool on top of the city's most expensive apartment complex, and even once an underground bunker. Anywhere and everywhere. It helps that most people are willing to travel for him- since Yoongi is firm on his decision to not leave his city.

The secretaries at this hotel eye his appearance like he’s nothing but street trash. Which, granted, he is. But he’s beta street trash and that makes all the difference.

“The reservation should be under Min.”

That gives them a start usually, a subtle widening of eyes, hands fumbling for the phone to call the hotel director.

“I take it they’re already expecting me?”

On the days that Yoongi actually tends to his day job, he does a good job keeping an eye on the record store owner. If only because Hoseok has such a proximity to him. Yoongi’s noticed whenever the owner comes into work a lot more people frequent the store. And he’s seen him slip small bags of white powder into the sleeves of records before. But Yoongi knows how to keep quiet about that sort of thing. And Hoseok has so much on his plate that he never notices.

The rest of his pack doesn’t mind stepping around Hoseok when it’s clear he’s having a bad day. They come less frequently as time goes on and soon, he feels just as comfortable curling up with the omegas as he does with the alphas. But the adjustment is slow, he meets Jin’s eyes only sometimes. Sidesteps Jungkook’s teasing. Bows under the weight of Namjoon’s hand on his shoulder.

The adjustment is slow but noticeable. He play wrestles with Jimin, with Taehyung. Ducks his head under Jin’s fussing but doesn’t out right reject it. He takes the packed lunch and a sleepy scent mark without gnashing his teeth and growling. Far from it- he blushes.

But the first time they invite him into their nest Hoseok looks like they’ve just doused him with a bucket of icy water.

“I’ve never been in a nest before, at least not outside of a heat." Jungkook flinches, and Jin hisses. Hoseok pales before Jin’s had the chance to realize his mistake. But still, the border gets pushed back. And Hoseok waits. Taking one step closer than anther before he gently puts a knee on the border.

It hurts them that he sits in it- rim rod straight. Worried that he’s going to be booted out of it for messing up the edge or accidently spreading his scent in it. But Seokjin and Jungkook just surround him with their favorite nest-making items and sit chest-to-chest with him. Hoseok shivers with every easily given touch. Through his hair, over his shoulders, on his scent glands round and pudgy at his neck. Jungkook kisses into his mouth soft and sweet.

“Love it when our nest smells like you Hoseokie.”

It takes them a while- but eventually, he opens up to the others about his old pack. How poorly they treated him. He names specifics that have Jin hiding his mouth, that have Namjoon’s hands tightening on the back of the chairs. That make Jimin grit his teeth and growl. That have Tae folding his book and tossing it to the side in favor of pulling him in.

To them, he’d been an add-on- nothing special. The only alpha in a group of four female omegas.

Comparatively, their pack feels more balanced now with two alphas for each omega. When Jungkook and Seokjin’s heats eventually come he’s very happy to take the lowest spot in their hierarchy even though he’s the oldest alpha. He doesn’t know how to be a good alpha he says (though he’s never done anything wrong) Namjoon needs to show him.

But it’s just reassurance that Hoseok needs and that’s easily given. Hoseok is so honestly happy to please.

He’s everything to them- the most special and desired person in their beds and in their lives. Jung Hoseok is the one to wake them up with coffee in the morning, and also the one who tries to say every night, “you don’t have to do this, really guys I’m good.” Even when they know having his back rubbed is his favorite way to fall asleep. They pet his hair until the touch-starved shivers subside into happy grumbles, the alpha version of an omega purr. They love how shivery and cutely hazy he gets when they shower him in affection.

Things are good, for a while- they're so so so good. Things get so good that Hoseok almost forgets.

Almost.

~-~

(Yoongi, 124 days before).

But someone always leaves, someone has to go first- it’s just the way things are.

They just never expected it to be Yoongi.

It happens when Yoongi least expects it, after a group date with the seven of them. It's probably the last truly warm day of the summer, warm enough that it has them all escaping on a Sunday to go to the ocean again- Hoseok's favorite place. The sand sticks to Yoongi's bare feet. His ankles are cold. Fall is just on the horizon. Not far now.

Yoongi's phone rings and he walks away from their big picnic blanket to take the call. Jimin’s laugh rings in his ears, almost drowning out the sound of the ocean and the person on the other side of the phone.

Hearing fluent unaccented Korean is so jarring through the speaker that Yoongi almost misses it. He's so used to Jimin's slight drawl, Seokjin's crisp syllables, the way that Taehyung sounds as he flips from English to Korean and back again words and grammar all tangled.

He'd forgotten what his family sounds like when they talk.

“Harabeoji is dead.”

Yoongi's blood goes cold, and his hands start to shake. They don’t say anything else before they hang up, but they don’t need to. The message is clear. Yoongi is well trained. Yoongi is a good pup, a good beta. He knows to come when called.

“What is it Yoongi? Is everything alright?”

Yoongi schools his face into a neutral expression while his pulse roars in his ears as he turns around. “I’m perfectly fine Jinnie. Nothing is wrong.” He lies effortlessly. The words couldn’t be further from the truth.

(Sometimes, people leave not because they want to- but because they have to).

(Next Chapter)

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- Honestly this is another chapter where the title??? Why am I even bothering with chapter titles??? I mean I love them but half of them are! Not right and I don’t know how to fix it (yet) I feel like this chapter being the bumblebee chapter is too on the nose. (edit, I did actually go back and change this just a few days later.)

- Reading this I’m reminded that everything is up to interpretation. And I think because we see this scene again a lot later in this story. this is what happened from Yoongi’s perspective and later- that’s from Hobi's pov you know?.Just trust me if you look at them next to each other it makes sense that this one you’re seeing right now is a biased view.

- Some of Hoseok’s chapter feels a little bit fanfictiony, but I don’t hate it, like I think that I’m trying to hit somewhere in the middle of a published book and a fanfic, it doesn’t need to be one or the other right now.

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koolades-world · 11 months ago

Note

Hello i'm the person who gave you the idea of satan being an angel and i wanted to say thank you very much!.

I really liked how you did the reactions and the ending with MC is adorable. If i'm honest it was my first time asking for a request (manly because of my english) but when i saw that you liked my idea i was excited ♡.

So here's another idea in case you need any what do you think if MC holds a grudge for all the brothers threats?. For example all those times when Mc's life was put in danger, the insults and threats make MC start to hold a grudge against the brothers. Of course when it happened with Belphie *cough Mc's death cough* Mc snap at the brothers. It would be great if the brothers have to earn Mc's forgiveness.

(By the way i realized that the editor changed two words in the previous request so if it happens again i'm going to cry)

hello again!! so glad you liked the way I wrote the previous request <3

of course i can write this! hurt/comfort is so fun to write and i feel like it's for sure not talked about enough the way Mc would feel after the events of chapter 16 especially towards Belphie

please enjoy and hope to hear from you again soon!

Mc with a grudge against the brothers

Lucifer

he knew you weren't exactly fond of him towards the beginning of your stay in the devildom and while he did feel a little bad, at first he felt like he couldn't undo the damage that was already done

he harbored a lot of guilt especially after he got to know you

he understands when you got upset because the entire situation really was all his fault

he wants to gradually rebuild the trust he broke and makes sure he doesn't rush you

Mammon

as the only brother who never threatened or harmed you, he's on your side since the way his brothers treated you was shitty

after you finally snap at them, your mutual bond only grows as you only really want to be around him

willing to be the middle man between you and his brothers

he'd do anything for you babes

Levi

he isn't sure how to feel at all

he didn't think he'd be so upset by someone who'd only known for such a short period of time

he didn't think he'd miss you so much but he's afraid to try and talk to you in case you got mad again

it might take him a while, but just know he thinks about you daily

Satan

he kind of thought you wouldn't be mad at him after that serious bonding you guys did but understands where you're coming from

it was wishful thinking

he really wants to make it up to you since you helped him become who he is and let him know he's got nothing to prove to anyone

he gives you lots of gift and cards instead of trying to talk to you in person at first, then personally talks to you

Asmo

at first he's certain you're not mad at him but comes to a shocking realization

he struggles to accept the fact that you're upset with him but eventually comes to the realization that you might hate his guts

he actually remains in denial for a while and acts like nothing is wrong

only after you yell at him does he realize what he's done and tries his best to give you the space you need

Beel

he hates to admit it but he was part of the problem

although one of his rampages is what caused you to grow closer he won't ever forget how he acted towards you

he's probably the most genuine in his apology

he really misses having you around so he's the first to admit he's in the wrong since he wants to be able to talk to you again

Belphie

at first, he didn't think what he was doing was the big of a deal since you were just a way to get what he wanted

after he goes through with it and sees the damage it caused, he changes up

he doesn't expect you to forgive him

he works hard to show you he's changed and even if you never want ever be his friend again, he at least wants you to feel comfortable living in the same house as him

#obey me!#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me belphie #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #omswd

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hyuuukais · 1 year ago

Text

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> general, y/n gets told she talks too much kind of, discussion abt cheating

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER THREE -> AM I IN? (partially written! wc:546)

"...and then, after telling him how much I love him, he comes out of our shared- yes, shared- bedroom with another woman! Can you believe that? I pour my heart and soul to this man, and he just steps all over it! Them? My heart and my soul, so, yeah, I guess them. Sorry, what was the question again?"

"...what do you do for work?" The guy on the right side of the couch says, arms crossed.

You blink. "Right! I'm a graphic designer for a website."

"What website?" Beomgyu leans back, arms behind his head.

"This Just In!" You say excitedly, passionate about your work. "I'm trying to move into the journalism area as well. I'd love to be able to interview some of the people we do, but my boss didn't seem very keen to the idea yet."

"How come?" The one in the middle asks.

"He says I talk too much." A sudden wave of emotion hits you. "My boyfriend says the same."

"Ex-boyfriend."

"What?"

"Your ex-boyfriend." It's the one on the right again, eyes piercing into you; you can't hold his gaze.

"Right." You clasp your hands in your lap. "Maybe I've overshared a bit to you guys. I don't even know your names-" You point at the two.

"Han," the middle one offers. "Well, Jisung, but most people call me Han."

"Minho." You still can't look at him.

"Okay. Um, so, unless you have any other questions...?"

"Yeah, actually," Minho speaks. "What's your current living situation?"

"Oh! I'm living with my best friend, Hyunjin, and his roommates. But they're all models and it can be a bit... dramatic." You laugh nervously.

"Models?" Han sits up straight, looking at his two roommates. "What are the others like?"

"There's Felix, a literal sunshine, and Yeonjun and Wooyoung. They're usually the ones causing drama." You laugh again, this time more naturally. "Wooyoung just came back from a business trip, so I'm gonna be staying in my other best friend's, NingNing, she's amazing and I love her, apartment until she comes back. She's also a model... I'm friends with a lot of models."

"Do you mind stepping out for a second?" Han says with a smile. Your stomach drops. "I just need to discuss something with my roomies here."

"Y-yeah, okay." Quickly, you pick up your bag and head to the door, only stumbling a little bit.

Of course, you press an ear to the door once outside. If they don't want you, at least you'll know before they tell you to your face. Then maybe you won't cry at the news. The thick wooden door makes it hard to hear, only picking out bits and pieces.

"Dude, her best friend is a model-"

"Han, I swear to God-"

"She does talk a lot-"

"Like you're one to talk-"

"Okay, but with the breakup? Won't she be, like, crying all the time-"

"Hey, Min just went through a breakup too, so maybe she can help him with it-"

"Shut up-"

"Back to her best friend being a fucking model-"

A loud sigh signals you should back up, taking your phone out and pretending to be busy. The door opens, Minho in front of the other two looking more tired than before you left.

"You're in."

notes -> what is with me making idols i love into shitty exs like what is with that genuinely

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @taeriffic @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #lee minho x reader #lee minho x fem reader #lee know x reader #lee know x fem reader #skz #stray kids #skz fic #stray kids fanfic #skz smau #lee know smau #lee minho smau #smau #stray kids smau #social media au

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itsmarsss · 6 months ago

Text

Scandalous [Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas] (Helluva Boss) pt. 9 - If I Had a Nickel

pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn’t exactly considered classy, Stolas.

If Blitzø had a nickel for every ex of one his friends’ he’d fucked he’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right?

Word count: 6,117

Warnings: since it’s something concubi need to survive, having sex with humans for that need is not considered cheating between them in of itself. doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel shitty. you’ll get this when you get to it. this takes place during spring broken but I’ve already said do not take the shows timeline as entirely the same as my own lol. Spring broken will have happened after Exes and Ohhs but Exes and Ohhs will have happened before Ozzie’s in this fic. Kind of sexual/physical assault of Moxxie (same that happens in the episode, nothing graphic or anything), pretty tense chapter, Verosika is very much a bitch here but don’t worry abt it.

If you were to say so yourself, things have been pretty okay the past few weeks, which is a great freaking accomplishment, especially with Spring Break coming up.

Apart from being emotionally hard, considering the... well, the memories tied to it, Spring Break just makes you anxious, more than ever now that you actually had access to the human world during it with Stolas’ Grimoire.

… Which is the exact concern Ozzie expressed during the last sleepover you had at his place the previous week.

But you got this under control.

Of course, you'd still be careful, planning on staying in the office more often until you could find yourself less nervous about going up, and you made sure to tell him that.

Besides, there's plenty things more fun and more important for you to think of. You've been hanging out with Blitzø a lot these days, and you were actually having fun with the ‘trade’ with Stolas that you were now an official part of. You and Milllie managed to keep the weekly sleepover nights pretty consistent, Loona hasn't been in such a terrible mood lately and, therefore, Moxxie has been significantly calmer, too. You'd even managed to be sooo brave and keep yourself calm enough to make small talk with Fizz when Ozzie left the two of you alone for a few minutes in one your nights over at their place. Hey, maybe next week you can ask him a question, even!

Not much, admittedly, but progress nonetheless. Befriending your best friend's boyfriend is a little nerve-wrecking, especially when he’s so wary of the fact that you’re the only demon in hell with the power to confirm the rumors about them are real and have shit hit the fan for them.

You even- wait.

You recognize the song the very second it starts playing, taking you out of your thoughts and glancing at Blitzø as he turns the volume all the way up.

“You were the spicy little demon with the bleach blonde hair-“ you sing along with the car radio, holding an imaginary microphone to yourself before holding it to Blitzø.

“F-fiending for some- uhh- yeah, when I caught your stare!” Blitzø tries to sing along into it as he drives and you laugh at his attempt to sing the lyrics, already knowing he'd get most of them somewhat wrong, before leaning towards him so you can both sing into the imaginary mic together.

“Thought it might be love- but what?”

“But you went too far! Fucked all my friends and-“ Blitzø’s eyes widen so much they might as well fall off their sockets. “Holy shit-“ He steers the wheel so violently everyone thrashes around in the car, everyone in the backseat falling over each other and pushes the brakes forcefully, making the car come to a stop abruptly and he immediately proceeds to shove his head through the open window to yell at whoever it was that, as you could see now, had parked in his designated parking space. “Oh, you suck for life, do ya?”

He even goes through the trouble of fumbling to grab a megaphone he apparently kept in the glove compartment for... situations like this? Well, something like that. He continues yelling out insults until the sight of who comes out of the car makes him stop speaking completely.

It’s a hard task making Blitzø shut his mouth, you gotta give her that.

“Oh, shit. Verosika.” You state out loud, but it's more to yourself than anything. What's weird is that Blitzø says the exact same thing, the exact same time.

"Oh, shit. Verosika?” He asks, and you figure it's more to himself than anything as well. He turns to face you for a moment, blinking a few times before speaking. “You know her?”

“Uhhh…. “ So much for things being good lately. You want to stall as much as you can, you want to vanish from where you were, you want the floor to swallow you whole never to be seen again. The most you can do about all of that is trying to sink down on your seat so she doesn't see you, but it’s no use, really. She pops her bubblegum and grins at you. She already has.

“Blitzo.”

“I should have known you’d be here. I could smell fish from miles, which is odd, because I believe the nearest ocean is-” he pushes himself so far out the window he ends up falling face-first to the floor, but gets up as quick as he can just so he can finish his insult. “Three rings down!”

“And I should’ve known you’d be here when I heard the amber alerts.”

“Oh, yeah? I’m surprised they let your fat ass out of rehab.” She was in rehab? Again? “I can see you're still a drunken whore, clutching onto that beelzejuice bottle like its the last cock in hell!”

“They let me out because I’m still famous. And rehab is for sad, loser washups. So… your sister says hi. You wanna come out now, y/n? I'm sure you're familiar with the subject."

You sigh, deciding it’s better to confront her right now than to let her say too much, and so you get out of the car, walking towards where her and Blitzø stood. “Hi.”

“Hi? That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“For starters, what the fuck is going on, maybe?”

“What do you mean?”

“Getting with my fucking ex? Now that’s low even for you.”

“Your ex? Who's your ex?”

“Oh so you didn't know I dated him, that’s totally not why you’re here with him right now. Right.”

“You dated her?”

“Yeah, we dated for a while,” Blitzø shrugs. Oh, no.

“Yeah, until he ran off leaving me to pay for the hotel room, stole my car and-” Blitzø joins in, finishing word for word what she had to say, like he'd heard the speech a million times before. You don't doubt he has. “-ran three rings to wrath and max my credit cards on shitty horse-riding lessons!”

“Goddamit, whore, you will not let that go!”

“You… did that?”

“What, you gonna crucify me for it? How the fuck do you even know each other? Were you friends or something?"

“I- uh-”

“We dated too. Unfortunately.” Verosika spits out.

Blitzø turns to face you. “Wait what? You dated my ex?”

“Well I definitely dated her first. That tattoo was not there,” you point at the tattooed heart with Blitzø’s name crossed out inside of it, and Verosika instantly covers it with her coat.

“That’s true. Until… well, I’ll let the slut tell you what she did,” she tells Blitzø before smiling at you. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm doing a bit of freelance for one of the infinitely more successful companies in the building, and they wanted to have me come in this week to lead their team during Spring Break. Hey, maybe you wanna come too? Oh, wait, I forgot you’re on the big guy’s watchlist. Maybe he can give you a pemission slip?"

You avoid her gaze, feeling smaller than ever at the dig. She laughs at your reaction.

Blitzø interferes. “Well I don't know what that fucking means. But you said a week? No, no, you are not parking here for a fucking week.”

“Aw, you mad, Blitzø? Choke on a sandpaper cock.” She walks away flipping him off, and he chases after her.

You stay right where you are.

Blitzø follows suit behind her and threatens to call HR lest she parks somewhere else, which understandably sends all three of them into a laughing fit at the ridiculousness of the thought. Verosika snaps her fingers signaling to whoever her guard hound she’s parading around is to go, both exiting the parking lot.

As soon as they're gone, Loona barges out of the van. “You guys know Verosika Mayday?”

“Oh, yeah, her, yeah, we dated.”

“Yeah. Same.”

“Wait. You both dated Verosika Mayday?”

"Apparently."

“Ha! Now that’s karma.”

“Shut up, Moxxie,” Blitzø tells him.

“Was it before or after she became a popstar?” Millie asks.

“Sir. You dated a popstar?”

“Okay, why are you all acting like thats such a shock? Where's all that negative energy for y/n?”

“Hello? It’s Verosika Mayday.” Loona says, in a tone that's meant to shove it in his face that what they're trying to say is obvious.

“It’s… you.” Millie adds.

“I just- I mean, y/n is understandable. But you? Was she suffering some form of brain damage?”

“Okay, look, you are all making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be. I don't pry into your stupid personal lives.”

A chorus of different ways to tell him he does, all the time, erupts from the three, you even joining in with a “dude, yeah you do.”

“What was sex with her like?” Millie asks you, and you feel like you’re going to short-circuit. This is not something you want to get into right now.

“Millie!” Moxxie exclaims before you can even say anything in return.

“What? She’s a popstar! You'd wanna know what sex with Michael Crawford was like.”

Moxxie opens his mouth to dispute her but stops himself. “Touché.”

“So, tell me later?” Millie asks you.

“Just drop it!" Blitzø exclaims. "Millie, find a temporary spot for that truck, okay?” He throws the keys to her. “Looney, Moxxie, Y/n, let’s go handle this shit.”

You take the elevator, and Loona begins to nervously pull on her hair. “Do you think they saw me? Fuck, I did my makeup shitty today.”

“Oh, you look perfect, Looney! Like alwaysss” Blitzø tells her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Shut up da- Blitz.” She shoves him away.

“You look great, Loons. Not coming from your dad.”

“Ugh, don’t say ‘dad’,” Loona complains, storming off, presumably to the office, but bumps into the hellhound Verosika had been with in the parking lot, who you assume is her bodyguard.

Loona stutters as she tries to apologize for bumping into him, clearly flustered, and hey, you get why.

Blitzø notices it too, though, and immediately goes into protective dad mode, throwing himself between the two. “Aww, big man, where’s yout bitch bag of an employer?”

The bodyguard doesn’t seem amused by Blitzø’s try at being intimidating, a bored-as-ever look on his face. “She’s in her office. There wasn’t room on the second floor, so they rented one here on this one,” he explained, pointing at the door….

The door right across from the I.M.P. office.

Great. Awesome. Fucking fantastic.

“Oh, come on!” Blitzø exclaims, frustrated as well.

The guy laughs and shrugs before walking out. “Sorry, man.”

“Oh, no, you don’t, bitch,” Blitzø mumbles under his breath, eyes trained on Verosika’s door.

Moxxie chimes in. “Sir! How about you let me go in and try to reason with her? You two clearly have a history with her, but I’ll be immune to her insults! I don’t really listen to what’s classified as ‘pop genre’ music, so her status to me is-”

“Moxxie, shut the fuck up and go,” Blitzø interrups, and Moxxie goes on his way, entering the office. Through the blurred glass wall, you could make out the silhouette of Verosika and two other concubi.

From outside, it’s still possible to hear what he says to her, and it is pitiful. “Hello Ms…. Verosika, was it? I work for IMP and it is actually rather important for us to retain the singular parking space we were assigned, because-”

One of the concubi interrupts him, and you swear you find the voice familiar. “Aw, look at the little one! He’s got a little bowtie!”

“Please don’t condescend me, ma’am. I��m-”

An incubus pops out of nowhere, offering to do something you can’t quite make out to him.

“A… kind offer, but… I’m married.”

Verosika leans down to Moxxie’s level. “Hey, why don’t you send a little message from me back to your limp-dick boss and his new girlfriend?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck-

They’re on him in a second, the true forms showing through the blurred glass as silhouettes..

“Shit, Moxxie!”

“Moxxie, don’t let her access any of your holes!” Blitzø yells at him.

“We should go inside!” You tell him, but it’s a mere second before Moxxie’s thrown out the door. You help him get up, and you can’t help but worry if he’s okay. “Mox?”

“I- I gotta go lie down, now,” he tells you, walking into the I.M.P. office.

For a second, Blitzø looks worried about him too. And then that’s replaced with anger. “Oh, this won’t stand!” He screams, kicking open the door to Verosika’s new office and promptly yelling at her. “Alright, cunt, that’s it! If you’re gonna be shitty to my employees, then I challenge you to a fucking…challenge! Fuck, I said that twice.”

“Is this imp boy starting a demon duel?” Fuck. It’s Izabeth. That’s why the voice was familiar. You remember being her friend too. Now she glanced at you as you stood by the door like you were nothing.

All of them did.

“I think he is!” Verosika replies, seemingly excited. “What’s the game, then, Blitzo?” Of course she insisted in calling him that, too.

“Every year you STD spreaders go up topside for easy picking while Spring Break is a prime time for crime of all kind.” You know he says it to hurt her, but his words hurt you too. Does he think that about you, too? Is that how he sees you? Is that how they all see you? There’s not much time to dwell on that just then. He keeps on. “So I bet you succu-bitches can’t fuck as many people as we can off by the end of the day.”

They all laugh at him, and, yeah, you would too if you were in their place, probably.

When Blitzø doesnt back down, she leans down to be at face-level with him. “Oh, you’re serious? Well, then we’re gonna talk rules.”

“Rules? You fuck and we kill why would we need rules?”

“Her.” She points at you with a gloved claw, and your eyes widen. “She can’t seduce anyone to lure them to be killed.”

“What? That’s bullshit!”

“Hey, I’m only making things fair! Seducing the humans is our thing. And you wouldn’t believe how good she is at that. There would be none left for us, would there?” she grins.

“Oh fuck you, Verosika,” you say, tired of the witty remarks about the past you so desperately wanted to bury.

“Bet you still would if I let you.” She leans down to face Blitzø once again. “Fair?”

“Okay. We don’t need that anyway.”

“Alright then. Game on, bitch.”

[. . .]

Blitzø manages a whole two seconds of silence as you walk to the office before he just has to say something. “So. Ya wanna tell me what that whole thing was about?”

“What do you mean?”

“The way she was acting super shady and talking shit about you? She said she’d let you explain what you did to her and that’s saying something cause when it comes to me? Oh she looooves talking about what I did to her.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Huh. I’ll get it out of you somehow. But. Apparently you were like some sort of human seducing machine is what I hear? Why do we take so little advantage of that?”

“Cause we don’t need to. I’m an assassin now. I kill. I don’t need to seduce anyone to do that.”

“Okay! Okay, geez. Whatever. But don’t think I forgot whatever that was about you being on some “big guy’s watchlist”.”

You wish he would.

The two of you are the last ones to enter the meeting room, and you take a seat next to Loona as Blitzø stands in front of the big white board with stupid shit drawn all over it.

“Alright, shut your assholes! Here’s how we’re gonna do this shit.” He pulls out a drawing of yourselves, seemingly out of nowhere, and points to it as if it explained everything, when in reality it was pretty much indecipherable. “First, we find a fuck ton of clients. We portal up. We have our fun murder time as per usual. We pile all the bodies into a big fucking canoe. We push said canoe into some water. We light it on fire to attract the sharks and eagles and maybe a goose too, fuck it. They come and eat the bodies, we win the bet, we rub it in that sloppy bitch’s drunken whore-ass face, do you have any questions?”

“A canoe?” You ask.

“Why do we have to light them on fire?” Millie follows.

“Uh, yeah, why was that nonsense?”

“That one wasn’t a question.”

“That wasn’t a plan.”

“I’m sorry, that was a flawless presentation of what we should do, Mox, it’s not my fault you got a smooth little brain upstairs.”

“A what, now?”

“I’m calling you slow, Moxxie. God, why don’t you learn to take criticism, you talentless baby fucked troll?”

Moxxie climbs up to stand on the table, fuming. “Why don’t you take an art class?”

“Why don’t you see how expensive they are?” Blitzø yells back, pulling on the collar of Moxxie’s dress shirt.

“Hey, is there a way I can come with you guys this time?” Loona questions, nonchalant, interrupting whatever it was that was happening between the two and making everyone turn to look at her.

“Absolutely not, I forbid it. Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie, Spring Break is no place for young, vulnerable goth girls. You know the kind of freaks up there who drool all over you!”

“Just let the girl go, Blitzø,” you tell him, and he gives you a dirty look.

“Yeah, Blitz! I can blend in with humans easy enough. Just let me tag along!”

“Wait. Say that again.”

“I can… blend in with humans?”

“Do you have a human disguise?” Millie asks her, and you stop to think of it too. Since when has that been going on? Everyone’s seen yours plenty enough, even though you didn’t use it every single time you went up. How did you somehow miss the fact that Loona had a disguise of her own?

“Yeah, don’t all of you? I’ve seen y/n’s.”

The three share looks between each other, similar looks of deer caught in headlights.

“Wait. Are you the only one who has one?” Loona asks you.

“Well, yeah.”

“The three dickheads have been screwing around on Earth this whole fucking time without human disguises? And you’ve been letting them?”

“Hey how’s that my fault? Not like I can conjure disguises for them.”

“Hey now, we have to focus here! New plan. Y/n’s not allowed to use her human disguise cause apparently she’s this huge human awe-ing machine or something. But they didn’t say we couldn’t use Looney’s. Looney, you can help lure the humans to us and we’ll take care of the rest. Real simple, yeah?”

“Wait what’s that about a human aweing machine?” Moxxie questions.

“Unimportant,” you reply.

“How about the new plan, then?” Blitzø asks.

“Flawless logic,” Millie says.

“I think you’re missing the biggest issue, sir. Isn’t it crucial to have a client who demands enough kills to win this bet? We aren’t just going up to massacre!”

Moxxie has a point. But, surprisingly, it seems Blitzø has thought of that already.

“I got that covered.”

Blitzø takes out a blank piece of paper, scribbling away on it with the markers you bought him for his birthday a few months prior. After finishing whatever it was he was doing with it, he takes you all outside, revealing the handmade flyer as he glued it to a lamppost just outside the building.

Spring break

Victim

50% off!!

It even had a drawing of his very happy doodle-self beside a decapitated person and, naturally, various horse drawings scattered around the page that had nothing to do with anything. As charming as it was, there was really no way this single tiny flyer could attract anyone, let alone enough clients to have you win the bet with Verosika.

“Now, we wait.”

Moxxie voices thoughts similar to yours. “Sir, there is no way we are going to get enough clients by the end of the day with one poorly spelled, bad-grammar flyer!”

It takes less than a single minute for the street to be packed with people waiting in line in front of it.

Blitzø opens a cocky grin, laughing at Moxxie and elbowing his side before walking up to the first few people in line. “Now, who’s first?”

Okay, maybe he had this under control, after all. Huh.

[. . .]

Satan, Spring Break was… the exact same.

It was the absolute same as it ever had been, down to the thick, thick scent of hormones, sweat and bodily fluids mixed with sunscreen and a hint of weed, up to the obnoxiously loud music and even more obnoxiously loud people.

As annoying as it was to think of it now,, Spring Break did serve you a great deal in the past. Easiest, quickest way to human sex you’d ever encountered. The weeks of Spring Break could be enough to saciate a concubus’ need to go up for a long time if you were smart about it.

They were supposed to be enough, at least.

It’s been quite a few years since you’ve been up on Earth during this time of the year. Ozzie would not be pleased to hear about it, and he’d probably still go on and on about how irresponsible and careless you were being, but if you could get through this, and you truly felt you could, then maybe you could make him proud, too. Happy for you, even.

Well. Nothing like a little murder to get your mind off of things these past couple years. What’s some more?

“Now, remember, we can’t be seen, alright? And loose shots will likely cause a panic, so Loona can help with leading targets to a better spot to off ‘em. You got thhe, Looney?”

Loona takes a sniff at the piece of paper before nodding, standing up to change into her human disguise. Blitzø beams at her appearance.

“Oh, Looney, look at you, you look downright awful! I am so proud. Now fetch!” He points to the packed beach, and she does as said.

Luring the humans was going rather easily with Loona’s help. Blitzø wasn’t wrong, they were all over her. All it took was a look and a ‘come here’ motion, and she could take them wherever she needed: dark alleys where Blitzø could blow their heads off with a gun as she leaned back and watched, by the bridge where Millie could push them to their death and Moxxie could take care of the body, by some hidden corner where you could behead them… yeah, things were going pretty okay, and you had nine kills in no time.

Blitzø was just bragging about it to no one in particular when her voice came on.

“Alright, Spring Breakers! Y’all ready to get fucked up and make som ebitching bad choices?” Verosika announces from up on the stage, where she stood in her human disguise while huge pink-colored screens read ‘fuck you blitzo’ on them in block letters all around her.

“Fuck, she’s gonna sing. We’re not gona stand a chance,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else.

And that’s exactly what she does. “This is your final boarding call. All aboard.”

Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay, babe

Take it straight to bonetown

V-time, free time, baby, relax

Self-care, no hair, brazilian wax

Hornt-up, succu-bus to the beach

Catch some rays while catching some D

It takes less than a whole minute for all the concubi she’d come up to earth with to find themselves busy with one, two or more humans each. Which makes up more than the total kills up until now.

“Goddamnit, that bitch started her goadish mating call! Now she’s gonna win all these sex maniacs, we gotta pick things up, guys.”

You nod in agreement, motioning to a guy throwing up beside you. “How about him?”

“Is he on the list, Looney?” Blitzø asks, but she’s… distracted. Of course, it’s pretty clear what’s going on.

“Yeah. Yeah I think so,” she replies, and it doesn’t reassure you at all, not when her whole undivided attention is trained on the Vortex guy who you have to admit looks pretty hot in his human disguise. And hey, he looked human but he wasn’t human, so you wonder if it would- no. Fuck, no. You’re not here for anything other than killing the targets in the list.

Loona’s reply seems enough for Blitzø, who grabs an axe from who-the-fuck-knows-where and quite literally slices the man in half after getting asked if he’s a leprechaun. “Alright, Looney, c’mon, who’s next? Looney? Loon- Looney? Where’s my baby?”

Blitzø immediately panics as he can’t find her where she just was a second ago, and you grab him by the shoulders to turn him in her direction as she walks up to talk to Vortex, making to take care of disposing of the leprechaun guy’s corpse with Millie’s help as Blitzø just stares for a moment before following her.

Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay, babe

Take it straight to bonetown

Verosika takes a swig out of a flask before yelling out “now, who wants a piece of this?” and throwing it to the audience. The liquid ends up spilled into many people’s drinks as it flies through the air before landing on the ocean water, and it takes about three seconds for your suspicions about what was in the flask to be proven right as you notice the way people are acting now- that sure as shit wasn’t just alcohol..

You and Millie find Moxxie after you’re done, and he’s watching Blitzø pathetically try to cockblock Loona. He sighs. “Aaaan, we’ve lost him. It’s looking like it’s up to us to handle this list. You wanna make sure he doesn’t blow our cover?” He asks you, and you sigh in annoyance.

“Not like I get to want anything.” You stand up regardless, making your way to where the three stood while Millie and Moxxie began their speed-run (speed-kill?) of the target list.

“What, I can’t have a break?” Is the first thing you hear from the conversation, coming from Loona.

You immediately interrupt, scolding Blitzø. “Blitz you need to get the fuck out of here you’re gonna get us into shit!”

“That’s exactly what I just said!” Loona tells you.

“That is exactly what she just said, actually,” Vortex comments and you ignore it.

“A break? We have a parking spot on the line!” Blitzø yells back, and you know he’s actually being protective of her but pretending it’s about something else.

Vortex decides to tell him off too. “Hey, dude, why dont you chill out?”

“Why don’t you stay out of it? ‘Kay? This is our business.” He holds up another one of his doodles with his tail for a second. “Literally.”

Loona growls in frustration at him. “Fuck, Blitz! Why can’t you stay out of my face for, like, five minutes?”

“Because I adopted you! And that should mean something!” He turns his back to her, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.

“Oh, what does it matter? You’re not my real dad. I was almost eighteen!”

“It still counts!”

“Well, it shouldn’t!”

“Loon-” you try to stop her. You know her well enough to know she’ll feel bad for saying whatever she’s saying right now, but it’s no use.

“No! I didn’t need him then and I don’t need him now. You hear that, Blitz? I. Don’t. Need. You!” She’s the one to turn her back to him this time, and he looks back at her with tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Okay, look, I know that hurt, but you can’t be out here, Blitz.”

“But- but Looney-”

“She just wants to talk to a cute guy without getting embarrassed. Let her be normal. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Oh how are you so fucking sure, huh? You keep secrets.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You ask him as you shove him away from the large group of people.

“Yeah I said it. You’re a- you’re a secret keeper! Who are you to know if people mean what they say?”

“Blitz, if this is about what Verosika said-”

“Oh but it is! It is about what Verosika said! Or what she didn’t say actually. Do we even know you?”

“My life before you is none of your fucking business- fuck.” you lose track of what you were going to yell at him when you see Moxxie get thrown in the air, getting exposed to a few people around where he lands on the sand. Blitzø’s eyes follow yours.

“Ah! Oh, my god, it’s a fucking possum!” A woman exclaims, pointing at Moxxie, to which he curses under his breath before some guy grabs him from the ground and shoves him into a beer cooler, immediately throwing it around in the air with Moxxie inside.

“Come on, we gotta go help Mox out,” you tell Blitzø.

“Ya hear that, Looney? I’m gonna go kill something. You enjoy your break!” He childishly yells to her.

You find Moxxie at the same time as Millie does. Pulls the cooler’s lid open and he falls out of it, clearly drunk off his mind from the beer. She stands over him and he calls out her name excitedly from where he lies on the sand. “Millie! Hi. Hey. Hey, where did you get four heads? I wanna kiss ‘em!” He makes grabby hands and a kissy face at her, to which she just smiles in return at the drunken state he’s in. It’s sweet, actually.

“Come on, Mox,” she mumbles before helping him stand up. He’s so wasted he needs to lean on her to keep himself standing.

“You guys okay?” Blitzø asks her.

“Yeah, we-” Millie starts, but is interrupted by… well…

“Ooh! Fish!” Moxxie exclaims, giggling, as he points to the huge, monstrous creature that rose out of the ocean, killing everything in it’s way out of the water and causing panic to overcome everyone in the beach, resulting in a screaming, bloody mess all over.

Personally, that’s not the word you’s use for it, but sure. A fish.

The fish captures Moxxie with its gross, gigantic tongue, pulling him towards itself before attempting to swallow the imp. Fuck.

Millie shares a look with you before promptly killing a man, stealing the glass bottle he held and improvising a molotov cocktail, throwing it at the creature and stunning it enough to fall back in the shallow part of the water. “Kill the rest of ‘em! Go!” She yells out to you and Blitzø, which is enough for you to trust her to solve the situation on her own.

You and Blitzø resume to killing whoever more you could identify as targets, a harder task now that they were panicking and running around in a frenzy, but you manage to get about six before Millie’s done, cutting the creature’s tongue off as it held Moxxie and sending him flying over towards Blitzø, where Blitzø, who manages to catch him in his arms, making one of the targets shocked enough for you to put a bullet though their head.

Millie finally begins to walk up to where you are after killing the monster, chest heaving with heavy breaths and spitting a little blood on the sand, but otherwise okay.

“Is Mox alright?” Is the very first thing she asks.

“Oh, yeah, he’s fine! Way to show off, Mills!” Blitzø yells, and she smiles. You give her a fist bump as she approaches you before she grabs a giggling Moxxie off of Blitzø’s arms, and she can’t help but laugh herself.

“This is funny. I’m soooooo drinky.”

She squeezes him tight and you smile at the interaction.

You only get so much smiling time when Verosika’s around.

“Blitzø.” She calls, and you all turn to see her standing with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Oh, perfect! That must be the whores!” He quips.

“I only see two whores around here and they’re right in front of me.”

“Hey you watch your filthy fucking mouth.”

“That was handled rather… obviously, don’t you think?”

Millie picks up Verosika’s flask form the sand, holding it up before throwing it to her. “I don’t think this belongs to any of us. Would be a shame if anyone found out you guys were behind a giant monster fish in the human world.”

“Yeah y/n here could tell the big Oz himself. He wouldn’t be very thrilled, don’t ya think?” Blitzø is quick to threaten.

“Ha! She should be more worried about him finding out she’s up here right now.”

“Go fuck yourself. He’s not the boss of me. He’s the boss of you, though, isn’t he?”

Moxxie laughs obnoxiously. “Oh, Satan! You got yourself fucked!”

“Yeah, well, you three nasty-ass gremlins will be in shit for not being in disguises." She turns to face you, a bitter, hostile grin taking over her features. "And you! Your little friend already took your crystal privileges away. You wanna be a bigger disappointment?"

“Don't act like you fucking know him."

Moxxie falls over face-first onto the sand between you. “A human called me a possum. I am not a possum!” He slurs out.

“Hold on, crystal privileges?" Blitzø questions you.

It's Verosika who answers, though. “She not tell you about it?" She lets out a laugh. "Doesn’t shock me.”

Fuck. “Verosika-”

“You little fucks never wondered why she doesn't have one?”

“What do you mean? She gets one from Ozzie when she needs it like all of you freaks-" Blitzø immediately defends.

“Oh, Blitzo, you really are fucking stupid, aren't you?" She interrupts him. "She used to have one."

No. “Ver, come on-”

“Don't! Call me that. No. You're gonna hear me say what you did." She turns back to Blitzø, the same rage in her eyes as when she recalled all the ways he'd wronged her in the past, earlier that day. "Your little girlfriend here was forbidden from coming up to Earth without Ozzie’s permission for years.”

“What?” Millie asks, and it seems accidental that she says it out loud.

“Yeah. Sorry-ass had to be babysat every time she had to come up. On a watchlist like a freakin' criminal, cause, well- she kind of is." She eyes you up and down before she spits out "I'm surprised you can even be here right now. Congratulations.”

“Well duh? Of course she's a criminal. That's kind of what we do.”

“Oh, Blitzo, the killing thing you guys do is adorable. But no one bats an eye at a little murder, it's Hell. No, she broke demon law." And, then, the final threat of a carefully blocked out, written-over past, coming to haunt you in the form of her. "You wanna tell them your record time or should I?”

“You have no fucking right-”

“I have every right! I have every right. It was five months, two weeks and two days. You know how pathetic that is?"

“That supposed to mean something, bitch?” Millie growls, protective.

“Other than her being a whore, no,” Verosika shrugs.

“What does that even mean?” Moxxie asks her.

“She stayed up here for five months, two weeks and two days straight once when we were dating. I was worried sick, we fucking lived together too. And then I find out she’s been up here fucking whatever human that came into her line of sight instead of coming back home.”

“I’m- it’s not-”

“‘It’s not what you think, Ver, I swear!’” She mocks. “Boo-fucking-hoo! Now she’s on a watchlist cause Asmodeus for some fucking reason liked her enough to just be worried instead of actually punishing her.”

“I wasn’t in my right mind, you have no fucking-” fuck, you’re voice is trembling now.

“Save it, bitch.”

Blitzø notices your discomfort, deciding it’s better to go home and solve whatever this mess was there. He walks up to Verosika. “Look. We keep this pathetic little b-movie scene on the down low and you let us use the parking space. She doesn’t tell her lusty bff about what you did and everyone lives happily ever after. Deal?”

“Fine,” Verosika says through gritted teeth. “But I hate you.”

“Don’t care. We fucking won!”

[. . .]

“So… you don’t have to talk about it, but… please talk about it. What was that?” Millie asks you, careful.

You sigh. Maybe this time there’s no running from it.

A/N: genuinely don’t even know of this is good vut alas! we’re so back! sorry for the long wait lol love y’all

#mars writes #helluva boss #scandalous #blitzø #stolas #blitzo x reader #stolas x reader #blitzø x stolas x reader #helluva boss imagine #helluva boss x reader #loona #loona helluva boss #Moxxie #Moxxie helluva boss #Millie #Millie helluva boss #verosika mayday

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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk.��

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment…

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil.

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa.

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy,

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity. You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully.

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache.

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being.

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more.

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects.

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is…

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him.

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts.

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….”

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped.

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it.

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!”

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

“I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear.

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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sumaneun-stars · 1 year ago

Text

'Four Seven Two Eight'

chapter 03 — 'One step forward, two steps back'

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Pairing. Jay x fem!reader

Genre. Angst

Warnings. Swearing, pet names, thigh riding, dry humping, making out etc.

Sypnosis. You didn't know why your heart shattered, when your one sided love, Park Jongseong, left you in the dark- because he was never yours to begin with. You didn't expect what 2 years could do to a person, especially to him, now a completely different person. Not the little boy he used to be.

You felt a sense of accomplishment everytime Jay looked at you in confusion.

“So y/n, how was Jay on his first day?” The boy who was minding his own business shot up at the question. You eyed his intense grip on his utensils, before meeting his eyes which held a slight bit of nervousness or… fear-?

The moment your eyes met his, you could tell that he was trailing off to the same events of today in which you were thinking of as well.

“Uh- he…” your eyes shifted between his parents’ and his pleading ones. It felt like his life depended on the next words you were about to voice out. He was nervous.

“He was okay, needs some catching up though” you lied through your teeth, never breaking eye contact. You smirked when you noticed his body relax. You got a glimpse of his genuine smile when his parents praised him, and you couldn't help but notice the absurdity of this facade he was playing. And of course, trouble always found a way to you- so you walked right into his game.

Now it was his turn to smirk.

As the sounds of metal scrubbing against ceramic filled your ears, you couldn't help but replay how your parents worsened your already shitty day. You regretted saying the words ‘catching up’ because Jay would be visiting way more than often for your help.

You flinched at the sudden clanking of plates next to you. You scoffed at the thought of Jay actually helping with the dishes or cleaning up. Pfft- he was way too stubborn for that. Rolling your eyes, you took a step away, only for him to take two steps forward.

You let out a gasp when you felt two palms wrap around your elbows, as your back flushed against his chest. You could feel the warmth of his body spread to yours, his breath tingling on your shoulder as he leaned closer to your ear.

“Thanks, babe” he whispered, his lips brushing over your earlobe, before he let you out of his hold and made his way to the front door. Your body suddenly felt cold without his warmth engulfing you. At this point, you had lost count on how many times your heart beat for Jay.

Unbelievable.

The next two days were the same as the last, Jay getting on your nerves but also making butterflies grow. You gave up even trying to stop your heart, since it always betrayed you. Useless piece of shit.

At least you didn't see him today and the entire day was for yourself. You couldn't deny that you felt a sense of emptiness in his absence, but you knew you didn't love him. He just reminded you of the boy he used to be. They just had the same faces. And just when you settled into a good day, you heard the bell ringing. You would normally ignore it, but since your parents weren't home, you took all your energy to walk to the door, barely covered as you rubbed your tired eyes.

‘Not again’

Yep, it was him. He was like a fly which would never let you be at peace, but he also made you shiver at his presence- in excitement or nervousness, you didn't know.

You sighed, not recalling that you were not wearing a bra and that you were wearing white. “Why are you here?” You asked, massaging your right temple with a hand.

You noticed the silence, raising your eyes to look at Jay's somewhat distracted expression. You saw his sizing you up, before he cleared his throat, almost like he was ashamed of his actions.

“Uh-” he stuttered, clearing his throat right after.

“What? Never seen a girl's nipples before?” You asked, already tired of his games.

He got out of his nervous wreck in a blink, his normal, flirtatious tone coming back to him. “I have some catching up to do, don't I?”

You groaned, dragging him by the wrist up to your room, not forgetting to shut the door. Opening the door to your room, you pushed him down on the bed and made your way to your spinning chair.

“You take political science, right? So this is what we-” you spun your chair to face him, a book in your hands and your jaw clenched at his dazed look.

Although you got him back on track, you couldn't even last fifteen minutes. Gosh, was he annoying. You couldn't deny that he looked damn attractive as he sat on your bed, legs spread as he leaned on your bedhead, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth. You crossed your legs, just to make sure he didn't notice the growing patch on your shorts.

You cleared your throat. “So, professor Lim asked us to complete this” you turned the book for him to see, except he wasn't paying attention.

“Jay, I'm talking to yo-” you caught him looking up and down your body once again, your voice now caught in your throat. You looked deep into his eyes. It might have been in your head, but you thought you caught a glimpse of feelings in his eyes. Longing, you realized.

“Do you know where the lotus club is?” You were taken back by the question.

“Uh-”

“Nevermind, the navigation app exists” he said with a wink, before walking towards your window. He placed a foot on your windowsill, before turning back to your direction. “Thanks for the cover, princess. I'll pay you back later” he added, crawling out of your window right after.

You scoffed, unintentional tears of rage forming on your eyes. He used you? He planned to sneak out all along- feeding his parents pretty lies so it'd be a win-win situation for him? And here you thought that you might have actually had a moment with him. A turning point, or a mere development of care between you two.

You had rarely ever gone out at night, but you couldn't stop yourself. You wore your jacket and left through your window, heading to the same place.

“Lotus club…” you mumbled, observing the red dot on your phone which represented you. You looked up at the neon-lit letters spelling the exact place you were searching for, and entered it without thought.

Blazing music filled your ears, your whole body vibrating at every beat. The place was lit with vibrant colors, and the shimmer from the disco ball above made it even more flashy. It gave your eyes a challenge, but you soon enough got used to it.

It wasn't hard to spot Jay in the crowd, and of course, a girl was by his side. She wrapped her arms around his neck, basically clinging onto him like a leech. He held a drink in one hand and held the girl's back with the other, steadying her- to continue whatever she was doing, obviously. He didn't try to resist her or push her away, and instead he trailed his hand down her lower waist.

You couldn't watch anymore.

You sat yourself down on the couch of the disgusting club. What the fuck was wrong with you? Why couldn't you get a hold of yourself? Full to the brim with rage and rage only, you grabbed the nearest bottle of poison. Alcohol. You finally found your cure. Now going on your third bottle, you felt amazing. You felt on top of the world, like nothing could control you. Not even that fucking Jongseong.

You felt a sudden hand slip under your shirt, traveling up to your back. You looked sideways to the stranger. He looked… good. Too good.

“You lonely, baby?” He cooed into your ear. You flinched, but were more focused on the growing need within you. You could feel his hand run circles over your skin. This was wrong. Very wrong. You looked ahead into oblivion. If Jay could have all the fun in the world, why couldn't you? He thought of you as a weakling, a toy to play with. Just look at what you could do.

“Mhm, very lonely” you boldly moved closer to him after drowning another shot down your system.

“What's your name, baby?” he asked. You smirked, running your fingers over his lips.

“Yours first” you rested your legs sideways over his thighs, flashing an innocent smile at him. When he chuckled, you knew you got him wrapped around your little finger.

“Call me Yeonjun, princess” your mind shifted into thoughts of Jay at the nickname. How he would feel around you, body pressed against yours.

You gasped when Yeonjun pulled you by your thighs, making you sit on his lap. For a moment you glitched, you could see Jay before your eyes. Him in his denim clothes, silver hair and chains decorating his body.

“Ride me baby,” Jay spoke. You tried to get rid of the illusion in front of you, but you couldn't.

‘Fuck it. Let it be Jay. As long as I feel good.’

You placed your hands on Jay's shoulder's, pressing your already wet, clothed core down on his right thigh. You let out a moan when he bounced his leg up. Suddenly everything was perfect. Too perfect. Was this the feeling if you ever fucked Jay?

You knew it was the alcohol playing with your head, but as long as you didn't spill the beans- there was no harm. Your head spun as the poison consumed your brain, and feeling dizzy, you reached your climax.

Not looking anywhere but Jay's eyes, you started to move your hips even faster. You didn't care if anyone was looking. You waited too long for this.

When Jay let out a groan of pleasure, you were hit by a sudden wave of confidence. You gripped his neck and circled your hips over his thigh, every push and pull sending you off the edge. You screamed when Jay bounced his leg along with your movements. Your back arched to the intense pleasure.

Your hands trailed down to your denim shorts, looking at Jay in the eye before moving your shorts along with your panties to the side, your sticky liquid leaking.

“Jay!” You let out a moan at the newfound feeling. A dazed, disoriented feeling in your head, you became a completely different person. You pushed Jay's back to the couch, clutching on to his chest for leverage. You once again started chasing your desire. It wasn't long until your second orgasm came. Your exhausted body collapsed over him, panting from the lack of oxygen.

“Oh my god Jay, that felt so good” you said after bringing your head from the nape of his neck.

“W- who’s Jay?

“That would be me”

You knew you were seeing things. Hearing things. Feelings things. There was no way Jay- the actual Park Jongseong, witnessed this. As long as you didn't spill the beans- there was no harm. Well guess what- the beans were spilled. And you were fucked.

“C’mon y/n, time for bed” you heard faintly, before feeling lighter in someone’s hold.

The anger felt when Jay saw you was indescribable. He never knew he could get his mad over a girl, something he could get with a click of the finger- and getting rid of them was just as easy. Call him a hypocrite, he didn't care. He was the reason you were here, but you brought him here in the first place. He was high and mighty on the exterior, just so he could lock up the little boy lingering in there, watching with betrayed eyes at his newfound self. He was disgusted by his own self.

Apart from his fire-bearing rage, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction that you called his name. His name, and not the man under you. He figured out that from your dazed eyes and unstable body, you were not yourself- and your tolerance was certainly not high.

Carrying you was the closest to kissing you at the very much escalating relationship of you two. It wasn’t that hard, considering that he carried you almost all his life. Whether it was to school or when you got your period cramps, he always had the ability to. He got interrupted by a gasp and a weak slap from you.

“Move! Your jaw could cut me!” you said, with furrowed eyebrows and a pout.

Jay couldn't restrain a chuckle at your words. He found himself smiling at every weird action you did when you were drunk- for example, dangling your legs but your hands holding onto dear life. Your vision was dazed, but the disorganized, vibrant plastic stars on the ceiling of your room could be identified by anyone.

“How'd you teleport me here?” you asked, your hands lifted to your mouth.

“I don't know baby, you tell me” he chuckled.

Moving the pile of abandoned books of your study session gone wrong, he gently laid you on your bed, removing your shoes and pulling the covers over your body.

“Where are you going?” you mumbled.

“Home, of course” he replied, and before he could completely cover you, his actions were disrupted.

“No” without time to think, you pulled his collar and he found himself dangerously on top of you. The little boy in him took over, and it was your turn to smirk now. It didn't last long, your weak body not being able to hold him in place as he tore himself from you. He knelt on the cold floor, hand on your jaw as he admired your red-flushed face. After a moment’s time, he spoke to no one.

“Where do you want me to go, then?” he asked, his voice like honey as he cooed into your ear.

“Don't go, just stay here”

He tucked a strand of hair from your face, a strand which bothered you- or else, which blocked his vision of your face.

“Don't leave me like before” his head traveled far away into the past, back to the rooftop when he first looked at your eyes which held something more than friendship. It reeled forward to the expression on your face when he made you cry the first time, a scar that was planted right across his heart. The memories brought unnoticed tears in his eyes.

“If all it is is eight letters, why is it so hard to say?”

“What? ‘I hate you’?” You started counting with your fingers, your playful tone back.

“No, just the opposite”

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, probably the first and the last one. He crawled himself out of your window and looked back at your unconscious figure for the last time. He hoped you wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, you deserved someone better, someone who didn't scar you the way he did. Maybe the little boy, the one he isn't anymore.

‘I won't leave you y/n…

Never again.’

A/n: to yuna who threw my beloved teddy bear across the room bc i was annoying her while she was reading I MEAN EXCUSE ME WE HAD A STORY TO WORK ON. @yunabi436

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nyeddleblog · 6 months ago

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A little piece of heaven [Part 5]

Pairing: Wade Wilson x Original Female Character x Logan Howlett. Summary: In Wade's timeline, Iris is his supernice upstairs neighbor. In Wolverine's, she's his beloved dead wife. A/N: This is a Wattpad Fic with an original character of mine that you can find here. Warnings: Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers, kinda.

PREVIOUS PART.

Chapter 5: Tension.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. It didn't matter if it was a memory or dream. He saw her. He was haunted by her memory and this aggravating, irresponsable version of her felt like a punishment sent by god. Not only did he have to deal with her last words engraved in the back of his mind, always whispered in his ear, but he also had to manage not to cry whenever Iris did something so particularly Iris. He couldn't ask her no to be her.

Wade insisted on getting to know her better, but Logan didn't know what would be worse, if she was just like her, or if she was nothing like her. So the conflict in his mind was constant.

But, not only was she incredibly unpredictable; her relationship with Wade was puzzling. They were constantly flirting, touching each other, cuddling each other, hanging out, and his advances seemed genuine, yet she had no clue. Logan didn't understand if she was playing dumb, or if she was actually that fucking dumb.

And he didn't understand Wade's goal either. He would jolt awake at times, and he'd be there, surprisingly gentle with his soothing touch and his annoying, yet comforting jokes, like some anchor he rarely found in his past life.

Logan felt like an outsider then, sitting next to Wade in the couch. He saw Iris rest her head on Wade's knee, her hands tracing the test she was grading. It was the last one, then she'd take a shower and the three of them would go out to the shitty bar he'd been going to every night for the past week. He didn't truly know if he was okay with that.

"...And, another kid who's actually listening to me" she muttered triumphantly, leaving the tests with the rest of the pile. She stood up and offered them both a cute smile, "I don't know how I'm gonna be able to keep my job if they smell what I've been smoking, so can you guys keep the windows open while I get ready?"

Iris didn't wait for an answer, she left straight for a shower. An eerie silence invaded the room, tension building between them. He could feel Wade's eyes fixed on his hands, then on his tense shoulders and slowly rising up to his eyes.

"All good in that sick mind of yours, big guy?"

Logan let out something akin to a 'yes', avoiding his friend's eyes. He knew Wade knew it was a lie, but then again, they didn't become friends because he was one to open up. His gaze lowered, fixed on the red stain on one of the kid's tests, "Does she always drink and smoke when she works?"

He was judging her, that much was clear. Wade knew that Logan hadn't stopped comparing Iris to his dead wife since the very moment they met, so he just shrugged, "Wouldn't you if you had to bring work home every weekend?"

In Wade's defense, he wasn't told that the Iris he knew and Logan's late wife were the same person, he followed the clues himself. It wasn't like Wolvie would tell him his whole love story, or be very detailed about her character. He more or less told him her name and that she died in his arms. Wade figured it had to be his neighbor because she was obsessed with Logan before she even met him, and therefore he felt he owed no explanation.

"Relax, peanut. It's just a little weed and wine..." he shrugged, holding his hand out to point at the table "It's not like she doesn't give a fuck about them! She's been on this all day for a reason!"

Logan didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on the red stain. He was still trying to keep his mouth out of snapping at him, or worse, out of agreeing. But Wade cared, he clearly did. He cared about her and he cared so much about him. Too much.

"You know, Luna Lovegood over there is actually really good at what she does..." he continued to defend her, "I mean, she's a bit of a space cadet, and I barely understand what she's talking about or why she uses the worst colors in existence, but she loves those kids, you know?" he then looked at the door and back at the grade, "In a totally admirable, non-creepy way..."

Logan finally didn't avoid his gaze, but stared right back. Wade opened his mouth to say something else, but he stopped himself when he realized that under all that annoyance, Logan didn't seem as opposed to his words as he usually was.

His eyes rebelled with a defiant glint and slowly traveled towards his mouth. The silence became suffocating then, specially for Wade who didn't know if this was actually happening and was fighting the urges to joke about it with all his might.

Finally, Logan spoke, his voice low and rough, "Maybe she's not so bad."

Wade's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. He could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable. This was new territory for both of them, "I think... I think there's precum running down my leg..."

TAGLIST: @l3xi3luv @sagemastah @leobabbyyy if you want in or out of the taglist, let me know<3

#deadpool & wolverine #deadpool #wolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction #marvel #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fluff #kind of a soulmates au #soulmates au #logan howlett smut #wade wilson x logan howlett #deadpool x wolverine

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missmarveledsblog · 22 days ago

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Hand on Heart (Jake Seresin x Singlemom!reader) chapter 7

Summary: While Jake is coming to terms with the strong feeling building , y/n is trying to make sense of her own while showing she was ok , only when everything become to real well it hard to ignore it all

warning: some angst, allusions to shitty childhood and toxic parents, Jake coming to the rescue in more ways than one , some goofy humour , some feels , not proofread also written on my phone so if there is error let pretend there isnt ok 👀

previous part

Why was it so difficult , it shouldn’t be this wasn’t the first time she was this close . Yet she was forcing her eyes to look at the screen in front of her and stop staring the man , her friend who was here to comfort her . She tried to remind herself of the play boy thing but even she was starting to doubt that or maybe he was just like that with friends … but he didn’t do that for the other right? .

“ hey whats up don’t tell me your bored after defending the hell out of this so called masterpiece “ he chuckled.

“ no it’s still good just i’m hungry “ she lied wondering was his voice always that sexy .

“ javy got us burgers they should be here in twenty “ he laughed and she bit her bottomed lip ignoring how the touch made her skin come alive , she was upset was all or what she kept telling herself.

“ What time is Belle coming home at?” he asked.

“ benny fucked up the flights so gonna be the afternoon “ she rolled her eyes.

“ I can't wait to see her , it’s too quiet here” he teased.

“ i can be noisy snake and ladders “ she got up and headed to the kitchen . “ want a beer? “ she called .

“ yup” he called back . “ i sure hell need one “ he muttered ignoring how hot his skin felt . this wasn’t like him reduce to flushing at silly remarks like a puberty ridden boy popping boners all cause of pretty girls paid him attention . “ pull it together “ he scolded himself

“ i appreciate you keeping me company tonight “ he looked up to see her handing him the beer . “ it means alot but i hope i ain’t cramping your style “ .

“ cramping my style “ his brow raise and an amused grin on his face.

“ you know the whole lady killer thing you got going on , you know what i mean asshole “ she laughed , her head thrown back he love seeing her like this , happy and herself .

“ nah it’s not as fun as you make it sound like “he shook his head.

“ what sex is boring” she arched her brow.

“ meaningless sex after awhile is , not at the time but after” he admitted a truth he never thought he would be saying out loud . but sure as shit did he mean it .

“ sound like you want a connection “ she smiled softly her cheek laying on the arm that was propped on the back of sofa .

“ guess i am “ he didn’t know how or why it happened as he leaned forward suddenly he was doing the same almost studying her face every single part lost in the action to see her doing the very same time , like he was moving more forward , he was close so close yet the doorbell ringing snapped whatever trance the two were in before she was rushing off of the chair and heading off. the soft giggle and door closing she held the bag up almost awkward smile on her face as she looked back .

“ the burgers”

“ good i'm hungry “ he nodded sadly knowing he was so close and so far all in one breathe. the rest of the night was back to normal neither bringing up the almost moment , not knowing if it was just them or something that was pulling them to each other. it was like the universe was calling to them both and them refusing to see it . talking away to the point when he leaving , his hug lingered , his steps slow almost hesitation in the movement before sucking it up and getting in his truck and driving home . His mind trying to separate his wishes from reality , did he image it or did he actually nearly kiss the woman he couldn't get out since he's first laid eyes on her. it had to be some hypnosis of some form , how it was impossible to even fathom it all seemed nuts , crazy , it was something himself before her would of laughed at yet it was happening and he didn't know what to do . this wasn’t like all the others , he knew that a quick fuck and goodbye would help cure it all. yet his cocky ego was no where to be found only some part of himself he didn't recognise , a vulnerable almost afraid side that would bare himself to this woman and it end badly so maybe keeping it inside , keeping himself from acting and it would pass would be the right call because he did not want to lose two people who became a fast and sure part of his life . he could suck it up right? .

she barely lifted her head from the pillow and already she felt it coming . that sick gut wrenching feeling of knowing she would see him , was she ready to stand face to face with beau simpson … not even a little bit . she was raised better than that , her grandmother raised her strong and resilient . she could be civil , she could do this . mainly because one she just got here , two moving wouldn't be good for belle and three she liked it here so her maybe (definitely is) sperm donor was not going to mess with that , it wasn't going to mess with her life . she went through her life of messy parental drama that she wasn't going to let it dictate her adult one too. a stretch and yawn as she headed to grab a shower , knowing jake was probably on his way giving the new sort of routine the two had not that she minded one bit. just like she predicted the moment she got dried off and into her overalls the doorbell rang and she was opening the door there he stood the tray of coffee in one hand and bag filled with food in the other .

“ Why are you dressed? “ his eyebrows furrowed as he followed her down to the kitchen .

“ can't go work naked i mean i want mav to look at me differently but not too differently “ she teased taking two plates out for the food . “ Look, a dad abandoning me isn't new so I'm not gonna hide away” she shrugged even though the world made her stomach twist and feelings pushing down .

“ if you wanna go home at any point tell me or mav ok “ he sighed knowing it was useless even if he thought it was a bad idea . He hoped that Belle would be home earlier than scheduled knowing one that her mama missed her and two so did he and the dagger squad plus belle could take her mind off of every as well as her big brother that was for . he could tell she was off no matter how much she pretended it didn't . that strong unbothered front showing cracks before the facade of being ok showed once more. when they left out her front door instead of carpooling she hopped into her own car so he got in with her, leaving his truck in the driveway even waving to her neighbours as they headed out .

“ i don't need a babysitter gameboy” she rolled her eyes .

“ I ain't babysitting nectarine” he shot back . “ that's nats job “ he chuckled as she whined.

“ I'm ok really look its shitty , it is and it sucks but i ain't gonna cry over a repeated situation , i don't want to be babied"she sighed .

“ ok but if it gets too much ?” he asked.

“ i will tell mav.. and you “ she rolled her eyes as they pulled into the car park ... somewhat satisfied he got out of her car , heading into the base. The first sign was her greetings. they weren't cheer filled greetings more half assed , force just like the smile on her face . it didn't quite reach her eyes and then when her eyes landed on beau simpson she froze , visibly froze in her spot before he wrapped his arm around her off shaking his head when he saw the man was about to move towards them .

The dagger squad knew something was up , they knew something happened with the cyclone but not to the full extent only drawing their own sort of conclusions . each wanting to comfort her in some way and yet not knowing what to say without upsetting her more. Mav could see throughout the morning of her watching the entrance every now and again or during lunch how she walked in her head low. Nothing like the woman who walked in like life itself , no she was almost making herself so small , hidden away from everyone . His heart hurt for the young girl , a small amount of time she certainly made a big impact in their lives that was for sure . Then he looked down at his phone , maybe breaking rules and laws wasn't a good thing to do but when it would help he didn't mind. a small smile on his face as he headed out the cafeteria . while she ate she could feel their eyes on her , each mouth opening and closing something and nothing to say all in one .

“ ask , i know y'all wanna so go “ she looked up as they suddenly found their food very interesting except nat who wanted to get to the point .

“ was he inappropriate with you?” .

“ not in the way your thinking , he maybe my dad my mama said he is but then again she also said ny dad is my dad so i cant really confirm her word on things” she watched each and every fork fall . “ you where there why you surprise , even punch his ass “ she looked at jake . only for rooster to choke on his drink .

“ you punched cyclone are you crazy “ javy hissed.

“ it ok i warned him not to do anything “ she waved them off .

“ ok back to he might be your father what the hell” nat whispered.

“ yeah apparently when he was stationed in texas he and my mom had a fling while my maybe , maybe not father was on a bender and well then he watched me grow up til i was a child without thinking hmm that could be mine or he did and just didn’t care “ she hummed. as they all looked back at their superior than looked at her a couple of time but just as she went to stop them something else gained her attention .

“MAMA , MAMA “ The little voice that made her hardest days the brightest as she turned to see her big brother and the light of her life standing at the entrance of the cafeteria . right there and then the woman before the massive secret , before her world was shifted . The bright happy cheer filled smile they new and loved .

“ Belle “ rooster cheered .

“ back of turkey i will fight you “ she warned getting up from her seat as the man gulped and her friends laugh . rushing up gaining the toddlers attention but not only the toddlers attention .

he felt her heart fall into his stomach , the moment he saw Benny standing at the doorway with a small child , he knew who it was straight off the bat . the mini version of y/n calling out for her . how he wanted to be able to enjoy the reunion and yet the fact of being a grandfather being all too real . The fact he had missed out on so much made the guilt rise more and more and yet he was stuck to the seat. Beau Simpson never claimed to be perfect but in that moment right there and then he felt lower than garbage for ignoring and not doing the right thing all those years . It took all of him not to crawl to her and her daughter on his hand and knee begging for forgiveness , to catch up to make up for everything he missed out on . he kept himself stuck to that chair like the rest of the people in that cafeteria . he was stuck being a bystander in the scene instead of a participant. he had to make it right , he had to find a way to be in her life and he was ready to go through hell and back if that was the case.

Just that little smile , the feeling of her little body in her arms was what she needed, what made her centered. It was also what made her aware of the mess of the situation , another thing she was going to have to explain to her daughter once she was older. when it really felt real and made her hypersensitive to her surroundings . She could feel an audience , feel his eyes and belle was there . that sinking feeling making her rush out with her daughter in her arms from the peering eyes and worried looks . not a moment of hesitation , not a second passing before Jake was out of his own seat and rushing after her . It didn't matter nothing in that moment, only the fact that she was ok .

“ Just friends my ass “ Benny smirked before walking over to the one man he did have a problem with . “ Sir, I would like to speak to you,personal matter, maybe tomorrow at the hard deck i believe it's called, ” he said as Beau nodded before making his own exit in the direction to find his little sister.

she was sitting in the her car belle on her lap , feeling more herself , more free of his presence . she wasn't in his view hell she made it her sole goal to keep her daughter out of the her own parental messes , her mom nor father could she even call him that now have met belle and if she could keep it that way. just because she grew up in their messes it was never going to be that way for belle , she made that promise that day in the hospital when she first held her daughter in her arms .

“jake” the little voice giggled only for Y/n to see the blonde smiling down at her daughter .

“ i wanna go home “ she finally said .

“ ok let get you girls home “

“ y'all wait for me would be nice” she could hear Benny calling making her realise she completely forgot he was there. “ you ok peach” he asked softly taking no offense knowing she was going through to much and putting on too brave of a face .

“ I wanna go home” that voice was so small , so vulnerable, something she never showed to anyone other than her brothers.

“ sit in back with belle , hey you not gonna get in trouble for heading off base” he turned to the blonde .

“ nah i already talked with mav he cleared me to leave at any time” he shrugged . it wasn't a complete lie , he waited til she was completely busy before talking with the captain. Honestly, permission or not he was willing to break rules , she was worth breaking rules if it meant she was ok . The fact he was so happy to see Belle to know what he was feeling wasn't going to go away soon or maybe at all . no he knew there and then those two had his heart , he knew he had to tell her at some stage but now wasn't that time , he could put his feelings aside for now they in his mind were not important not now when she needed him , needed her friend .

the relief she felt even more so when they walked into her home , her safe space . she notice as they walked in how perfectly he fit in that space how even when she thought she was going to break each and every time Jake seresin held her up and kept her grounded . how much Belle was excited for the man to be around as he carried her into the house while Benny was looking at his sister , almost seeing a gaze he hadn’t seen in a long time but he knew it a long time ago .

“ain't that a funny thing” he chuckled .

“ what ?” yet she didn't look his way not once .

Taglist : @zara-aliza08 @stoneyggirl2 @lyn-js @emma8895eb

“I never thought I see it again, that look I only ever saw growing up when she did anything from cooking dinner to helping with homework “ he explained, making her turn brows furrowed in confusion at the nonsense . “ yeah like the way grandpa used to look at grandma, the look of true love” he pushed her gently making his way into the house looking, giving himself a tour while she stood in shock and realization that only added to her jumble messy mind. Her eyes shot to the blonde and a gasp spilt from her lips, she was falling for her new friend and she was falling hard.

next part

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kkanabel · 5 months ago

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caffeine addiction ❃ "what." ❃ chapter 5 bakugou katsuki x reader / coffee shop!au + fashion?au

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~3.6k

t/w: implied sexual content but no actual yuckies

Bakugou sat in the men’s dressing room with his legs crossed at the ankles, examining the models before the show. The models, makeup artists, and hairstylists felt scrutinized under his wary gaze. Bakugou Masaru’s son is no joke.

This morning, he woke up and cut his daily workout short to go to his café. He was filling up two five-gallon insulated beverage dispensers with his famous drip coffee. To help out with the show, he was supplying the entire staff with caffeination. He knew that the coffee was going to lose its aroma throughout the day, but he was going to be much too busy to maintain a coffee machine today. While he was waiting for the coffee to brew, he kept his café open just in case any customers came in.

To his surprise, you walked in only a couple minutes after he opened. Outside the door, he had a sign telling his customers that he’d be closed for most of the day. Secretly, he was glad that you came in today, but he was disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to see you sit in his café for extended periods of time.

You looked amazing. He had to check if he was drooling each time he glanced at you, and then cursed himself for being such a creep. The fact that you didn’t show any signs of mutual interest in him made him disappointed. He didn’t even know why his ego was getting assaulted in response to this, especially because he got daily doses of female attention.

You were so reserved and mysterious to him, and it made him desperate to get to know you better. You always sat at that same window-seat table while doing your work. And that was the thing-- you were always doing work. He couldn’t ever have a real, meaningful conversation with you because you were always doing things. Even if you took a quick break, Bakugou was too much of a scared little shit to make an actual move.

Bakugou found his eyes trailing to you even when your hair was messy, your eyes crusty, and your dark circles pronounced. What is going on with him? What are you doing to him? And how?

Maybe it was the way you were so dedicated to your work. Maybe it’s the way you were able to look like a drug addict one day and an Instagram influencer the next day. Maybe it’s the way you smiled at him after you got your coffee. Maybe it’s the way your contagious laughter spreads to him each time you crack a joke. Maybe it’s the way you always answered with something so interesting after he asked a question about you, and then left him to keep doing your work again.

“Yeah, I’m just taking a quick break.”

“Whatcha doin’ over there?”

“Oh, I’m designing an advert for a shitty dating app! Well, I’ve gotta get back to it.”

You always walked away before he was able to make more conversation with you. Did you find him annoying? You returned the favor, though. It’s not like you were obviously avoiding him. You seemed to enjoy the short conversations that the two of you had! It just seemed like you backed out of the conversation because you were so focused on doing your job. That only made you more attractive to him. He wonders-- if he was against dating because it encroached on his work, was it the same for you?

If he was a recurring factor in your work, would you feel like you’re more allowed to pursue him? At this point, he was falling for you more and more. He might ask you out on a date and ignore his rules altogether. How did it even get to this point? You’d only started becoming a regular at his café a month ago.

Bakugou watched as you disappeared from his café with your two red-eyes. He’s going insane over a girl that he hardly even knows.

He tapped his foot backstage, standing up when he saw a makeup artist looking at the reference pictures that he gave to them. “Oi. The eyes need to be sharp and bold, like the themes of this line,” he said, voice gruff as he pointed out the sharp edges of the eye makeup in the picture. The makeup artist seemed to tremble a little under his gaze, so he left the area to continue supervising the models.

Bakugou made the reference pictures for the makeup himself, knowing that he would be best at translating his dad’s vision into makeup. His dad was only ever good for translating his thoughts onto textiles. Although Bakugou wasn’t great at makeup, he was great at knowing what this line meant to his parents.

He walked over to the racks of clothing lines up against the walls, running his hands through the fabric. This line heavily depended on the geometric patterns that his dad was inspired by this time around. Thus, everything surrounding the fashion show had to reflect that. Bakugou was always a creative director for Masaki’s fashion lines for a reason. This time around, though, he was the main creative director alongside his father. He took a sip of his coffee as he sat back down on his bench, lost in thought.

Masaki, his mother and father’s passion, became a brand that embodied creativity in an explorative and bold way. Each line always had a small sub-line of clothes that were saturated in color, even if the rest of the pieces in the line weren’t. It was always these three– orange, green, and silver. Always in bright hues. Over time, these three colors had become the face of Masaki as a brand.

In every interview his parents had, they would always describe the brand in one word. Explosive.

Bakugou never really understood the meaning and symbolism behind the pieces that his father made up until he’d grown older. Most people don’t understand haute couture, period. Many look at the pieces that these lines produce and simply look at the price tag and go, “Who would pay that much for an ugly sweater?” While Bakugou agreed to an extent (especially the t-shirts with a simple logo on them that sell for way too much) he also understood the other side of it.

High fashion, to him, is not just about the elitism of the brand—not just showing off your financial prowess. To Bakugou, the works of designers around the world are meant to be entirely works of art. Whether or not you believe that ugly sweater from Gucci is worth a kidney, there was still thought, time, and training put into it. (Hopefully.) Just like a painting, high fashion is an expression of the thoughts of the designer into a piece that takes hours to create. He saw his father hunched over a sewing table for hours for a reason, and he truly believed that the pieces from Masaki deserved their price tag, if not more.

Even then, it took Bakugou years to truly understand what it was that differentiated his parents’ work to others. When he compared the work of other brands to his father’s, he understood. Whereas brands like Kindeki valued the portion of creativity that was more subdued and focused on innovation and symbolism, Masaki was always sharp and in-your-face. It could be seen in the silhouettes of the blazers and the crisp edges of the patterns that his father preferred.

This manifested in Bakugou as he grew up, of course. As a child, he was the exact definition of explosive. His parents would have to calm down his anger-filled tantrums on the daily, and he was the middle-school bully that everybody was afraid of.

But as he grew up, he mellowed out like the flavor of espresso after being watered down. His anger went into going to the gym, and his mind became more relaxed as he worked each day at his café.

After you finished your red eye, you’d pranced over to the table with refreshments and poured yourself another cup of coffee. It tasted just like the drip coffee from your favorite café, so you were absolutely elated. There was nothing as good as the coffee that you’ve had from that place. You’d have to ask someone where the coffee comes from later.

You were watching models get ready at your aunt’s favorite luxury fashion brand. Other than her own, of course. You walked back over to your table, where she was sitting with her red eye still in her hand.

“Honey, when Mitsuki gets back, I’ve got a surprise for you~”

This woman was like a second mother to you. On your fifth birthday, you clearly remember walking into her office and touching all of the pretty fabrics and beaming at the sketches taped onto the walls. As the days continued, you spent more and more time with her when your dad was busy working, and the two of you went on road trips to spark her inspiration.

She was the one to hold you when you had your heart broken, and she was the one who took you on a trip to Milan just to take photos and show your ex what they’d be missing. Strangely enough, your dad wasn’t surprised when his late wife’s "baby" sister told him, “Hey, the 'lil cutie and I are headin’ to Milan tomorrow morning,” over the phone. He must have been used to her strange antics already.

Either way, the trip to Milan worked, because the day after you posted photos of you relaxing by the poolside with a bikini that your aunt recently designed herself, your disgusting ex texted you a long paragraph explaining why you should forgive them for making out with their best friend’s cousin or whatever. After receiving that paragraph, you’d simply texted back a “lol”, before showing it to your aunt and talking shit about him.

Your eccentric aunt was a massive part of your childhood. And now, she’s going to be a huge part of your adulthood, as well. She was still gorgeous after all these years. Although she’d be fifty this year, she looked like she barely aged past her early thirties. Even though your aunt always preached about the stupidity of having to look young as an aging woman, her skincare routine clearly did a lot for her.

Her bangs were clipped to her head with a glamorous brooch, and her matching tweed set matched with her shiny six-inch heels. This woman is the absolute manifestation of glam.

She’d demanded that the two of you match, so you had to change out of your previous outfit and into a tweed set as well. Instead of the tweed pants that your aunt wore, however, you wore a skirt. To keep warm, she’d given you a pair of pearled stockings, but you knew you’d still shiver in the cold later.

You had to pull down your miniskirt before sitting down, but an eyebrow of yours arched at your aunt’s cryptic words. No, her words are less cryptic and more… suspicious.

You continued your work with your aunt, showing her the details of the designs you drew at the café the other day. The two of you were waiting for the show to start, but you were invited backstage by the owners of Masaki because of a long friendship between your aunt and Bakugou Mitsuki. Apparently, they’d been college roommates or something. You weren’t sure. Your aunt was going to explain more about her relationship with Mitsuki, but then one of her Tinder dates gave her a uh… call…

Anyway, you always enjoyed going backstage with your aunt. Having a sneak peek of all of the pieces before the public got to see them was your favorite. Especially because you love Masaki as a brand, today was especially exciting. You noted the makeup was different from the usual haute couture makeup. While it wasn’t overpowering the clothing, the shape of the classic eyeshadow point was rounded in the corner of the eyes and amplified with a ring of white eyeliner, creating a look that was reminiscent of a ringed planet.

Then, your aunt swiftly stood up. “Mitsuki, honey! Meet my precious baby niece.”

A woman that looked oddly familiar walked up to you. She’s beautiful– her hair juts up in blonde spikes, just like on someone else you’ve seen before. You can’t quite place your finger on it, so you just brush it off as maybe seeing her in a photo your aunt has shown you before. Her skin is so smooth, she’s super tall, and her face is perfectly proportionate. Whoever her husband is… he’s one lucky dude.

You arrived at the show a little later than your aunt did so that you could grab her a coffee from your favorite café. Apparently, she’d been meaning to introduce you to this woman– Bakugou Mitsuki. She was wearing some of the pieces from the new line, and it fit her perfectly. Thinking back on your aunt’s words, wasn’t she a former model or something? It’d make sense.

“Oh, you look even more beautiful in person! Takumi has shown me some photos of you, but none of them really do you justice.” Mitsuki immediately complimented you, so you felt your face getting hot.

You turned your face away in embarrassment before turning it back to her, reminding yourself to be polite. This lady, who’s borderline perfect, is complimenting you. “No, you compliment me too much. I think you’re super pretty, onee-san.”

Mitsuki gasped in response. “Onee-san? Oh my!” She placed a well-manicured hand over her mouth. “I’m much too old for that title! I turned 51 recently.”

You gaped at her admission, cheeks burning from embarrassment. Of course she is! Why would you call her onee-san when your aunt just told you that they went to college together? She’s 51. You looked at both her and your aunt, eyes wide. “Please tell me your skincare routine, ma’am.”

She laughed and gave you all of the steps in her routine, and you nodded with a focused fire in your eyes. You took notes on your phone. After telling you her routine, her perfectly groomed eyebrows raised. It seemed like she’d remembered something.

“Oh! I almost forgot. I wanted to invite you to take photos with my son after the show. We’ve got our photographer on site, and since my husband’s just finished this line, we’d love for you guys to try them on!” Mitsuki clapped her hands together and a wide smile pulled at her face. You saw next to no wrinkles. Is she a vampire?

But either way, her offer made you excited. A chance to wear one of your favorite brands and take photos? Yes please. You wanted to commemorate this occasion as much as possible.

Next to you, your aunt placed a hand on your shoulder and looked around the dressing area. “Speaking of your son, where is he? I don’t think I’ve seen him in-person since he was five.”

Mitsuki smiled at your aunt. “Ah, he’s in the men’s dressing room, looking over the makeup artists and hairstylists.”

Your aunt turned to you. “I forgot to tell you! Her son’s like you! He helps his father with the brand and was a huge part in creating this line.” You were amazed. This line is mildly genius, so you were excited to meet this guy! Since you were going to be taking photos with him, you were sure you’d have tons of time to ask him about his creative process and the like.

“I’m super excited! This has been one of my favorite lines from Masaki as of late, so I’d love to meet the minds behind it!” You voiced your thoughts.

When Bakugou Masaru introduced himself to you, you still couldn’t shake the idea that the Bakugous look extremely familiar. You still couldn’t place your finger on it, though. You felt like you’d seen them somewhere outside of just through your aunt’s phone, but where?

As you spoke with them, you tried to dig deeper and deeper into your mind to figure it out.

Bakugou Katsuki groaned as he stood up from his watchpost to trudge over to the women’s dressing room, where his parents were. His mother had sent him a text, summoning him to meet these Kindeki people.

Much to his displeasure, of course. Although he was curious to meet the mind behind the Kindeki brand, he felt like if he left his watchpost, everything in the men’s dressing room would burn down without his supervision. Of course, this would not happen, but Katsuki thought otherwise.

He entered the dressing room filled with models, and saw his parents in the corner, speaking to two people that had the back of their heads turned to him, both with (H/C) hair and both in tweed sets.

“Oh, Katsuki! Over here!” His mom waved him over as soon as she saw him, and he walked over to face the two mystery people. “This is Katsuki." She turned to you. "You’ll be taking your photos with him today! And also, since Masaki will be having a joint line with Kindeki next season, you two will likely be working very closely.”

Both the words coming into his ears and the sight blinding his vision were making Bakugou Katsuki feel like he was going to faint. His entire body froze, muscles clenched and seized together. He thinks his heart may have skipped a beat. Or two. Or three. Wait, is he even breathing anymore?

You, in front of him, gasped. “Oh my gosh! It’s the guy from the café!” You exclaimed, dumbly, while pointing at him in an accusatory way.

“You know each other?”

“You guys have met?”

“What.”

All three of these phrases were jumbled together as you saw the guy in front of you freeze and slowly start to turn red. Wait, is he breathing? “Hey, are you okay?” You placed a hand onto his shoulder to try and ground him back into reality. You felt his muscles clench under your touch, so you pulled your hand away in fear that you’d overstepped your bounds.

Katsuki took in a deep breath, turning his face back to its regular shade. “Y-Yeah. Wait, a joint line?”

When he came back to reality, all of the words that his mother said had finally been processed.

“Yes,” his father began, “Kindeki and Masaki will be having a joint line. This has been on our minds since our college days, and since the two of you are now well-versed in the fashion industry, we thought it might be good to start it now.”

You clasped your hands behind your back as you listened to Bakugou Masaru speak. You were finally putting together the pieces. No wonder why the Bakugous looked so familiar! “Wait, but you two know each other? How?” Mitsuki asked as soon as her husband finished his explanation.

Both you and Katsuki looked at each other awkwardly. He wasn’t saying anything. “Yeah, he’s the guy that works at my favorite café. Are you the reason why the coffee here tastes so good?” Katsuki took off his quarter-zip from the line to cool himself down from the heat of the room, though the room wasn’t actually hot. It was just you.

“Y-Yeah. I- uh, I made the coffee this morning for the show.” Katsuki scratched the back of his neck as he tried his hardest to look anywhere but you. He's never stuttered this much. He cleared his throat awkwardly. You changed your clothes, he noticed. While he really enjoyed your outfit this morning, now it’s almost a complete 180 from what you were wearing.

Your hair was put into a style that perfectly framed your face, and you wore those dangly earrings that looked great on you. The tweed jacket was laid atop your shoulders, and you wore a silk camisole underneath it, which was tucked into a tweed miniskirt that outlined your waist and showed off your legs, which were donned with a pair of white stockings with tiny pearls scattered across them.

You were taller than usual with your heels that matched the color in your tweed set of clothing. Katsuki tried his hardest not to stare, but you were making it difficult for him. Next to him, his parents eyed him suspiciously.

You put out one of your hands in greeting. “Nice to formally meet you, Bakugou Katsuki-kun! I’m excited to work with you.”

It took him a moment to reach his hands out to yours after checking whether or not his hands were clammy. His hands were big and rough, and they practically ate up your hands in comparison. You shook hands.

“Pleasure to meet you as well. Lookin’ forward to it.” He steeled himself as much as he could, trying not to make himself look like a fool in front of you, but the way you smiled up at him made him retract his hand from yours a little too early, making it awkward.

“Well, it’s time to start the show. We’ll meet you after, Takumi.” Masaru said, a kind smile reaching his eyes as he patted his son on the back and walked off with him.

You watched as Katsuki’s broad shoulders got smaller in the distance, and you turned back to his mom. “Wow, you guys have great genetics.”

She laughed again and pulled you underneath her arm. “You guys do, too.”

Your aunt giggled as the three of you walked to the front of the stage to view the fashion show that Masaru and Katsuki worked on for months.

a/n: seee, no yuckies :> yet :>

taglist for this series is open! let me know! <3 stay hydrated, cuties!

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#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #reader insert #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #coffee shop au #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #fluff #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 1 year ago

Text

You're waiting for a train...(11)

Go to sleep, Miss Y/n

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Robert learns the truth of the plot to infiltrate his dreams...well...Cobb's version of the truth.

word count - 1.6k

warnings - betrayal, shitty fathers

a/n - I've realised the chapters are getting shorter and I think it's because when I'm writing I'm finding natural stopping points and I find I get more productive if I'm writing small chapters frequently than stressing about getting a large chapter finished.

Previous Chapter Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

We arrived on the fifth floor, exiting out of the elevator, Robert first with a gesture from Cobb in faux attentiveness. I lagged behind, the tremendous terror I felt in combination from my last encounter and whatever was about to befall us buzzed within me. Even as the two men entered before me, my stride was shyer than theirs. Every so often Robert would chance a peak behind him at my frame. So I was ready at a moment to right myself once again.

With only his back to look at, I still managed to discern the shudders that racked Robert’s body. As I saw one sliver down his spine, the same feeling was repeated on my own. As if our hearts were actually the same, being passed back and forth between the two.

Silhouettes appeared out from the end of the hallway and Robert stumbled at another presence, the memory of our previous encounter merely one picture away.

“They’re with me.” My dad assured with a hand on Robert’s back. Offering a comfort I had yet to know. “Go on.” With this confirmation Robert’s eyes darted around the room numbers in search of any sense of familiarity. His body moved faster than his mind could comprehend. His eyes ended up bearing the brunt, shooting back and forth to catch what his mind had missed the first time.

Feeling dismissed in my current position I found my feet shuffling towards Arthur. I clasped his arm in mine, leaning into his body to inhale his scent. The embrace I’d shared with Robert had cured my aching heart but to truly be healed I needed the feel of something I’d known before. In Arthur’s arms I could feel safe, whilst being undoubtedly assured no harm could come. He raised his arms so he could meet my hand with his. He clasped them together and brought them back down, my two fitting in his one. He looked at me, and I willed myself to meet his eyes. I gave a gentle nod. No more words were required before he met my hairline and christened it in his kiss. Unfortunately, I was unable to convey the platonic nature of this interaction before I saw Robert’s head fall low upon witnessing the two of us. I so badly wanted to jump back out into his arms but my sense of duty to the team and to my own promise held me still. Upon pondering this I also failed to catch the steel glare that landed on my father and the fist clenched close to where my own were being comforted.

The door labelled 528 stood before us. Robert’s panic grew as the familiar numbers jumped out to him. His head flicked back and forth from the door to my father in a silent agreement of what they both knew. Cobb gestured for Robert to stand with Ariadne and I as him and Arthur brandished their guns. They kicked the door down in perfect choreography for the scene they were trying to convince. They were led in by their weapons and they scoured the room in search for imagined intruders. Arthur paced towards the bathroom in perfect timing to ‘discover’ the briefcase.

“Mr Charles,” He announced. I did wonder if Arthur was going to do a different voice, remembering fondly when he would try different accents to make the jobs more fun.

“Do you know what that is Mr Fischer?” Dad asked.

“Yeah I—I think so, yeah.” Robert stuttered out and I sensed how close he was as he had gravitated towards my frame. My pinkie extended in search of something to hold. It was rewarded as I felt his own curl around it.

“They were trying to put you under.” Dad hurriedly uttered out.

“But I’m already under.” Roberts confusion spread through his adrenaline, linking the two.

“Under again.”

“What do you mean, a dream within a dream?”

An intruding sound alerted the room and we became aware of the fact we were no longer alone. For Robert he feared the oncoming consequences. The rest prepared for the next arrival.

“Shh.”

Cobb was aimed at the door as Arthur approached from the side. The door was unlocked, and Browning entered with his own key card. Arthur swiftly grabbed his arm in order to subdue him into compliance.

“Uncle Peter?” Robert appeared desperate to go to his godfathers aid, but I held him back with a slight tug on his sleeve. He responded to my action and remained still.

“You said you were kidnapped together?” My father asked.

“Well not – exactly – they –they already had him.” Roberts stutter was starting to become more prominent in the high-pressure environment and I had to wonder whether this was something he had been prone to before. Returning when he is placed in an environment which strains his heart. “They were tor—torturing him.”

“You saw this happen?” He breathed heavily when the question of sincerity was placed on the table. His eyes flitted to his godfather and seemed to truly focus for the first time. His conclusions became fully formed in the slight slouch of his godfather.

“The kidnappers are working for you?” Robert managed to push out in a whisper of disbelief.

“Oh Robert.” Browning sighed out as if in shame of the boy before him. The situation may have been an allusion but in Robert’s fallen expression I sensed that a scene like the one before was not unusual in his memories.

“You’re trying to get the safe open?” Robert’s voice shook. “To get the alternate will?”

“Fischer Morrow has been my whole life.” Browning said. “I can’t let you destroy it.” I had never had more of an urge to punch a projection in my whole life. And Robert knew it through the hand he gently placed over my newly clenched fist.

“I’m not gonna throw away my inheritance!” Robert shouted. “Why would I?”

“I couldn’t let you rise to your father’s last taunt.”

“What taunt?”

“The will Robert. That will? That’s his last insult. A challenge for you to build something for yourself. By telling you you’re not worthy of his accomplishments.” Browning hit the final nail.

Robert faced away and brought his hands up as if he could wipe away all the unpleasant feelings which were being forced upon him. I followed where his body paced, hoping any semblance of my presence would make him hurt a little less. He returned incredulously asking Browning to continue.

“What, but that – that he was, um, disappointed?” His words were intertwined with self-effacing laughs.

“I’m sorry.” Browning had the decency to refuse to meet Robert’s eyes in light of what he was revealing. “But he’s wrong. You can build a better company than he ever did.”

“Mr Fischer? He’s lying.” My dad approached to whisper to Robert.

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, it’s what I do, he’s hiding something, and we need to find out what that is.” Eames stalked into the room with Saito tailing behind. His weak frame confirmed my worry that the temporary heal of the deeper dream was starting to peel off to awaken a new countdown to the end. “I need you to do the same thing to him, that he was going to do to you.”

Eames and Arthur both held Browning down to "prepare him" for the next level. Ariadne and I did the same thing but in preparation for the others.

“We’re going to go into his subconscious and find out what he doesn’t want you to know.” My father continued to explain.

“All right.” Robert agreed determinedly. He approached where Arthur had his IV prepared but he faltered and angled himself towards where I stood. I was busy arranging for Ariadne and failed to notice him until he tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and was taken aback at his choice to converse with me. “Will you do it? For me?” He softly spoke and offered me the IV he had taken off Arthur. His eyes pierced down to capture just the two of us and they spoke to me to convey that I was the only one he could trust. I felt the burning glare of my father at the deviation from the scene. It had startled me as well but I was nothing if not an improviser.

“Of course.” I soothed, and gently clasped his bare arm in my hand to lightly insert the needle. I guided him to sit down on the bed. As the sedative seeped through my hand glided towards his neck. His weight fell onto it and I laid him down offering as much care as I could to ease him into this change. Once his head met the soft mattress, my fingers dragged back to the front. They lingered on his soft cheek and danced their way to his full pink lips. I was overcome seeing true peace line his features. But I was shot back to the situation at hand once Eames clapped my back in a warning.

“He’s out.” I announced.

“Wait whose subconscious are we going into exactly?” Ariadne questioned.

“We’re going into Fischer’s.” Cobb answered. “But I told him it was Brownings so he’d come be part of our team.”

“He’s gonna help us break into his own subconscious?” Arthur looked towards my father with doubt in his brow.

“That’s right.”

I laid down on the floor as Arthur kneeled over me, helping to prepare the IV.

“Security’s gonna run you hard.” I warned understanding the danger of leaving the dreamer at the whim of the projections and feeling genuine fear for Arthur up here on his own.

“Then I will lead them on a merry chase.” He teased as he smirked down at me knowing to reassure me in this moment, so my head would be clear of frivolous worries for his safety.

I giggled at his choice of words. “Just be back before the kick.” I relaxed my head back in wait of my slumber.

He lowered his voice to a soothing whisper. “Go to sleep, y/n.” he hushed.

LAYER THREE: THE SNOW

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Because y/n will have experienced stuff like the previous chapter before, it makes sense she would want to go to Arthur for comfort as it's her tried and tested way

Also like I said at the start, I know its a short chapter but I felt like it was a natural stopping point and it means I'm not trying to cram loads of plot at once.

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog

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