#getting back into the swing of drawing and I’m felling good about it so far :]

[yellowsigns]

Brick the rat!!

[mountain-in-springtime]

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pairing: jake x fem!reader | word count: 4.4k | warnings: swearing, fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls) | my masterlist

summary: an unexpected visit from your ex turns into something more

author’s note: so first things first this is named after the matchbox twenty song but let’s not focus on that!!! I started this fic forever ago and brought it up multiple times, but it’s finally here!! i’m really happy with how it came out, but also i’m new to writing smut so sorry if it’s not the best!! ALSO this is my longest fic by far AND it’s my tenth gvf fic that i’ve posted here so yay!!! also the second half of this is not proofread so sorry

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The harsh knock against your door rang through your apartment, pulling your attention away from the movie playing loudly on the TV in front of you. An irritated groan fell from your lips as you dragged yourself off of the couch and plodded to the door, swinging it open. Upon seeing the man on the other side, you silently cursed yourself for not looking through the peephole.

“What are you doing here, Jake?” you asked, your voice hostile as you eyed him with a cold glare.

A small smirk tugged on the corner of his lips, but he at least had the decency to try and hide it. “Hello to you, too,” he greeted, his voice too even for your liking, “I just came to get my shirt. The navy one with the buttons, y’know?” He spoke with his hands, and his fingers trailed along the buttons of his half-open shirt, drawing attention to the bare skin of his chest. The question caught you off guard, and upon your lack of response, his eyes peered into your apartment, his body leaning forward, but he was careful not to cross the threshold.

After a long pause of awkward silence, you sighed defeatedly and stepped back, allowing him to walk through the door. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it, but I can look, I guess,” you grumbled and turned away from him. You marched into the living room and grabbed the remote, making sure to make a big show out of pausing your movie and tossing the remote back down.

Your eyes anchored to Jake as you faced him again. He leaned against the kitchen counter and nonchalantly looked about the room. It was a sight that was so familiar to you, but now it left a deep, twisting knot in your stomach. He shouldn’t look so comfortable here, and you blamed yourself for ever giving him the chance to be. Still, you couldn’t deny the lingering fondness that fell upon you when you saw his handsome frame relaxing in a place that was so intimately your own. If you looked at him long enough, you could almost feel all the memories of hurt fade away, unearthing the happiness you once shared together.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” his question rang in your ears as it pulled you from your daze and reminded you exactly who you were talking to. He looked at you expectantly and raised his eyebrows as he waited for an answer.

You rolled your eyes. “That ship sailed a long time ago, Jake,” you seethed, sending him a glare that could kill.

He simply shrugged and relaxed even further against the countertop. “Just thought I’d ask. Since you kept looking my way, y’know?” he quipped.

You scoffed, not even dignifying him with an answer. You knew he was only trying to get under your skin, and unfortunately for you, he was doing a damn good job at it.

“I’m gonna go look in my closet,” you stated as you walked towards your bedroom before turning back and looking at him again, adding sternly, “Stay there.”

You watched as he held his hands up in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he remarked, and it made you want to march over to him and knock the smirk off of his lips. Instead, you just let out a low groan and stomped down the hallway. You heard him call out a sarcastic, “You say something, doll?”, which you ignored, deciding that humoring him would only make his behavior a million times worse.

As you reached the door to your bedroom, you threw it open and stormed to your closet. You pulled the worn, dangling string, turning on the closet light as you began to rifle through the clothes hanging inside. A stream of curses and grumbles fell from your lips, your frustration barely contained, and to make matters worse, you still couldn’t find his stupid shirt.

When you reached the end of your rack of clothes you let out a loud sigh. Great. You tilted your head back, moving to run a hand over your face when something caught your eye. On the top shelf of your closet, you noticed a familiar back brim peeking out. Jake’s hat. You groaned again but thought that at least he would probably leave you alone if you gave him the hat. Then you could go back to living separate lives and acting like nothing ever happened between you, the way normal exes do. But then again, nothing about Jake was exactly normal.

With a huff, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes and reached for the hat. After a few moments of blindly grabbing atop the shelf, your hands closed around the brim. Unfortunately, when you pulled the hat loose, it sent an avalanche of shoeboxes and forgotten keepsakes tumbling down onto the floor, knocking you to the ground and earning a loud yelp from you.

“Fuck,” you grumbled as you propped yourself up on your elbows. You started to move boxes aside, trying to get up before handling the mass of clutter around you when you heard footsteps coming from behind. As you turned to the doorway, you saw Jake sauntering into the room. He tried and failed to hold back a laugh as he saw you on the floor.

“Had a little accident?” he asked as he moved to you. He continued to chuckle to himself as he grabbed boxes, carefully closing them and setting them aside in a neat pile.

You groaned. “I recall telling you not to come in here, Jake,” you said with a glare that would turn anyone else to ice but only made Jake smile wider.

“Oh, I’m sorry, princess,” he retorted, “Didn’t realize helping you was some sort of grand offense.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at his remark. “I don’t need you to help me.” Your hands closed around the box he was holding, ripping it from his grip. The gesture caused him to let out a loud, irritated groan, which made you smile. It was a short-lived victory, though, as the contents of the box flew across your bedroom floor, spilling out pictures of you and Jake that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away quite yet. Mortified, you scrambled to pick up the photos before he even had the chance to see what they were.

It seems you weren’t fast enough, however, as Jake bent down, lifting up one of the snapshots, staying silent for a moment as he studied it. Finally, he spoke. “Looks like someone misses me,” he said, smirking down at you as he turned the photo around in his hands.

You quickly rose and snatched it from his hands. “Shut up. I was gonna throw that away, anyway,” you lied as you bent down to gather the polaroids that littered your floor, gracelessly shoving them back into their box.

He looked at you with a wide grin and crouched down to your level. “Hey, baby,” he cooed as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We had some good times together. I’m sure it’s a little hard to forget.” His hand reached out and slowly wrapped his fingers around your wrist, his touch searing hot on your skin.

“Well, those times are over, Jake. I moved on,” you answered as you ripped your hand free from his hold and got up from your place on the floor, desperate to distance yourself from him. You turned your attention to the rest of the clutter that littered your floor and pretended to be busy shoving hats and pieces from old Halloween costumes back into your closet.

“Then why are you hoarding a box of our old pictures, baby? Surely someone as strong as you wouldn’t have a problem tossing them out, hell, maybe even burning a few” he challenged. The tension in the room immediately thickened, and you stopped dead in your tracks. When you looked at him, his eyes met your own with an infuriatingly smug expression. He caught you off guard, and he knew it.

“I…,” your brain scrambled to find an answer, something to say to get him off of your case, to make him think that you had the upper hand, but words completely failed you. You stared at him blankly, your cheeks flushed and your lips parted.

He took a step towards you, and you could practically feel the space between you getting smaller with every movement. “And another thing,” he started, “if you’re so ‘over me’, then how come you can’t keep your eyes off of me? I saw how you were staring at me in the kitchen. Don’t deny it, babe.”

You swallowed thickly as he looked expectantly at you, waiting for your answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered out, and you hoped with everything in your being that he believed you.

A small “tsk” fell from his lips as he shook his head at you. “Lying’s not gonna get you what you want, princess,” he teased, his hand reaching out to rest along your neck, his thumb grazing your skin carefully.

You pulled back from his touch and glared at him. “I don’t want anything from you, Jake. Not unless it involves you leaving this apartment and staying out of my life forever,” you seethed, trying to keep your voice even.

“I don’t believe you,” he answered, a sly grin on his face, “But you’re a big girl. It’s your call. Just look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me. You do that, and I’ll be gone. That’ll be that.” He eyed you intensely, and you could feel the heat in your face rise. He was challenging you, daring you to deny him, and despite your pride and your anger, you just couldn’t do it.

You stared at him in silence, fighting against your mind and heart until a small, pitiful, “…Jake,” fell from your lips in a whimper.

He smirked and leaned forward. His hand wrapped firmly around your waist while the other gripped the back of your neck, pulling your face until it was an inch away from his. “That’s what I thought,” he whispered as he crashed his lips onto yours.

An uncontrollable sigh of relief escaped you as your fingers came up to lace through his hair. You wasted no time breathing in his scent and melting into his touch. You spent so much time holding onto the hatred and hurt you felt that you forgot how badly you wanted him. You forgot how good he could be.

His touches were hungry and impatient. His hands gripped your flesh roughly, pulling you close and leaving bruises in his wake. You moaned and gasped against him as his kisses consumed you, all teeth and tongue and aggression. He was beyond lingering feelings and simple desire. His thoughts of you in this moment were consumed by a hungry, insatiable need.

Your hands moved to grip his, pulling them toward your center. You felt his calloused fingertips toy with the hem of your panties that peeked out from under your jeans, but they remained there. You whimpered in frustration, trying to move his touch further down, but you felt him resist, and it was clear that this was going to be happening on his terms.

“What do you want, baby?” he breathed out between kisses, “Tell me. Use your words.” He smirked at you through half-lidded eyes, knowing he had you right where he wanted you.

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but, eager to get what you wanted, you swallowed your pride, mumbling softly, “I want you to touch me, Jake. Please.” Your eyes met his, desperate and pleading, but you could tell by his returning gaze that this wouldn’t be so easy.

His lips quirked up in a smug grin as his eyes raked over you, taking in the obscene beauty of your swollen lips and red cheeks. “Aw, is that what you want, honey? My touch? You want my fingers on you, in you?” he asked, his voice teasing.

You nodded timidly, hoping that he would show you a little mercy and give in to your desires, but you knew that was just wishful thinking.

He smirked wickedly at you. “Alright, princess. Then apologize,” he commanded.

A small squeak of disappointment left you. “...Apologize?” you asked, confusion and frustration coloring your voice.

He nodded, “Mhm. Tell me you’re sorry, and then I’ll maybe give you what you want.” You could feel his fingers fidgeting with the elastic of your underwear, making you restless beneath him.

“…Jake,” you whined, “please…” Your eyes bore into his, hoping desperately that he’ll give in and spare your ego, but as his hands slowly began to pull away from you, and he gave his head a small shake of disapproval, your desire overtook your pride.

You grabbed his hand, pulling it back to your skin. “Wait,” you whimpered. A small, ragged breath fell from your lips. “I’m sorry.”

A slow, mischievous grin bloomed on his face. “Sorry for what, princess?” he asked. You could tell how much he was enjoying torturing you, and it only made you want him more.

You let out a pitiful whimper as apologies tumbled from your lips before your brain could stop them. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I’m sorry for playing so hard to get, for being so mean to you, for starting all those fights with you. It was stupid, and I was selfish. I should have known better. I should’ve known that you’re the one for me. Only you. I’m sorry, baby.”

His eyes were blown with lust as he listened to your words. You were so fucking obedient, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t drive him wild. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours in a rough, hungry kiss before pulling back and whispering into your ear, “Only because you said it so sweetly, princess.”

In a flash, his fingers pushed past your hemline and started massaging your aching core. A loud cry of relief fell from your lips, and your nails left small crescent marks on his biceps as you clung to him. Your lips latched to his neck, leaving feverish kisses and small bites along the exposed skin of his throat. You were sure they would turn into small bruises by the morning, but you didn’t care. The feeling of his fingers working against you awoke a hunger deep inside you that hadn’t existed before or after him. “Oh, Jake,” you whined, “I missed you, baby”

A dark chuckle left his throat as he nodded. “I know, baby. I know,” you heard him coo, “Gonna make it all better, alright?” The pace of his fingers increased, curling deep inside of you.

You sobbed weakly, your head nodding along to his words, too far gone to process anything he said. Your head found its way against his shoulder and nuzzled into the crook of his neck as your body trembled under his touch. His movements were relentless, and you knew that he was doing all he could to send you over the edge, to remind you how good he can make you feel.

His effort soon paid off as the familiar, aching pressure grew deep within you, signaling your inevitable climax. Your whimpers became louder and more desperate as you gripped him tightly and rolled your hips against him. Deep groans poured from him as he could no longer contain his own arousal at your blissed-out state. His breath was hot against your ear as he mumbled to you. “You close, baby? Gonna let go all over my fingers, huh? Just like you used to?”

His words alone sent you over the edge, your body crumpling against his as your climax hit you in a strong wave. A loud, pitiful whimper ripped its way from your throat, and his name fell from your lips in a sacred mantra as the edges of your vision began to blur. You screwed your eyes shut and continued to grind your hips against his palm in desperate rhythm as you rode out your high, only coming back to your senses as the blinding pleasure subsided and finally left your body. As your eyes fluttered open, you lifted your head and saw the unmistakable look of satisfaction painted on Jake’s features. He held your gaze as he removed his fingers from you, earning a small whine in response. You watched wordlessly as he brought the digits to his lips and wrapped his tongue around them. His eyes drifted shut as he sucked on them, letting out a deep sigh as he pulled the fingers out of his mouth. “Just as sweet as I remember,” he teased.

Your hands flew to his neck, pulling him close in a deep hungry kiss. You tugged at his hair, and a grin pulled onto your lips as you heard him moan against you. His lips were soft as they worked in tandem with your own, and you could feel his hands roughly gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel his arousal pressed firmly onto your thigh, a gasp falling from your lips in an uncontrollable reaction. In response, he ground his hips harder against you and moved his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you close as he growled into your ear, “You feel that, baby? You feel what you do to me?”

Before you could stop yourself, a loud, high-pitched whimper escaped your throat, and your head nodded in a silent answer to his question. A smirk appeared on his face as he looked at you, his eyes dark and full of lust. Only ten minutes earlier you would’ve wanted to wipe that look off of his face, but now you were casting all grudges aside, leaving hot kisses along his neck and down the exposed skin of his chest that peeked through his half-open shirt as you trailed lower down his body. Your hands moved to the waistband of his pants, moving to unbuckle his belt until his hand closed around your wrists, stopping your movements. “Uh-uh, princess,” he chided, “I don’t think so.”

You looked up at him, your brows knitting in confusion. “You don’t want…?”

“Oh, I do,” he answered with a dark chuckle, “but I think there’s something I want even more.” His eyes met yours, and a devilish grin played across his features as he moved his body forward, guiding you backward until you felt the back of your knees touch your bed. Your eyes flit up to his as you carefully lay against the bed. You brought your hands up to the hem of his shirt, allowing your fingertips to graze his lower stomach as he leaned over you, his hands planted on either side, caging you in. He smirked at your actions and looked down at you. “Want me to take this off?” he asked, his fingers moving to the buttons on his shirt.

You nodded shyly and gave him a quiet “please” in response as you held his gaze expectantly.

He laughed softly and smirked down at you. “All you had to do was ask, princess,” he cooed as he moved back to stand at the edge of the bed and made quick work of his shirt, allowing you to bring your hands up and push it off of his shoulders. Your eyes hungrily wandered the canvas of his bare torso, and you forgot any possible notions of being resentful towards him. With a gentle hum, you brought your hands out to touch him, his stomach twitching slightly as your fingernails grazed his tender flesh.

“Somebody’s sensitive, huh?” you teased as your eyes moved to meet his, your gaze half-lidded.

His hands quickly and firmly wrapped around your wrist, stopping your movements and removing the smug grin from your face. “Watch it, princess. Don’t wanna bite the hand that feeds you,” he warned, “Now, you wanna finish what you started?” His gaze drifted down to his belt buckle, and you wasted no time in reaching out. Your fingers fumbled with the leather strap until you finally undid it, quickly moving to the buttons of his jeans and undoing them. Soon after you had pulled down his zipper and began to shove the fabric down his legs. He quickly kicked them off, leaving him in only his underwear. Your eyes wandered to the significant tent in his boxers, and you couldn’t help the hot flush that crept upon your cheeks.

Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Jake, who let out a satisfied chuckle. His fingers moved to your shirt, toying with the hemline as he met your gaze, silently asking for permission. You nodded, and he made quick work of your top as he pulled it over your head and tossed it to the far corner of your bedroom. Impatient, you started to work on your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them. Jake laughed wickedly as he grabbed the rough denim and yanked it down your legs. “Feeling eager, baby?” he teased.

Shamelessly, you nodded in response. “I need you, Jake,” you whimpered, grabbing his hips and pulling him forward, grinding your clothed sex upon his own to further emphasize your point.

A deep, guttural moan left his lips as he pressed himself against you. “God, you’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” he murmured, letting out a shaky breath before he wrapped his arms around your back, unhooking your bra and casting it aside. His fingers came to your chest, hungrily grabbing and pawing at your tender breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers and drawing steady, high-pitched moans from you.

“Jake…” you finally whimpered out, your breath heavy and labored, “please, baby… I need you now.” Your fingertips wandered to the hem of his boxers, carefully dipping below the fabric and grazing his sensitive skin.

He let out a shaky moan before nodding his head. “Alright. I hear you, baby,” he cooed, “I ain’t gonna make you wait any longer.” He pulled his boxers down, freeing his hard length. Your mouth practically watered at the sight as he moved forward, carefully sliding your panties down your legs and throwing them to the side. He took himself in his hand, stroking his shaft as he lined himself up with your entrance. “You ready, baby?” he asked, “Gonna take all of me, just like you always did?”

Helpless and desperate beneath him, you nodded, shifting your hips forward in anticipation. As he finally pushed himself through your wet folds, your head fell back in pleasure and a loud cry of relief left your lips. You gripped his biceps tightly as you moaned out, “Oh, Jake… fuck, baby…”

He let out a mix between a chuckle and a moan as he finally bottomed out inside of you. His fingertips dug into your hips as he held you there for a second before slowly sliding out of you and pushing himself back in again, slowly working towards building a steady pace. You continued to mewl and whine below him with every movement of his hips, and he looked down at you with nothing but all-consuming lust. “You like that, baby? Is it as good as you remember?”

His mocking words only spurred on your arousal as you nodded your head and wrapped your legs around his waist. “Mhm,” you cooed between moans and whimpers, “Still the best fuck I ever had.” The sound of skin slapping on skin began to fill the room as your hips began to roll forward, meeting his own in a desperate attempt to chase your already oncoming high.

A loud moan fell from his lips as his head fell forward and his grip on you became almost unbearably tight, sure to leave bruises in the morning. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he groaned as his hips picked up their pace, “That’s what I like to hear.” His thrusts were merciless, pounding into you with an unmatched ferocity.

Your moans echoed through the room as you reached the back of his neck and pulled him down to you. You caught his lips in a searing kiss, taking all the passion and pleasure that he had and giving it right back to him. Your fingers wound tightly in the locks of hair that hung at the back of his neck as you felt the familiar knot growing in the pit of your stomach. Your hips began to buck into his wildly as your orgasm drew closer and closer. You pulled your lips away from his own for a moment to whimper softly to him.

“Jake, baby, I’m close. I’m so close,” you sobbed into the soft skin of his neck. Your words seemed to only heighten his arousal as he fucked into you even harder. He moved one of his hands to grab your own, holding it tightly.

He dipped his head down to the hollow of your ear, mumbling to you in a desperate stream of consciousness, “Fuck, I love you, baby. I never stopped. Tell me you love me, too. Tell me you love me while you come all over my cock, baby. Come on, lemme hear you say it.”

His moment of unmasked vulnerability threw you over the edge, your own hold on his hand tightening as you cried out. “Oh, Jake… Jake, I love you. Fuck, I love you… love you so much, baby,” you whined as you buried your face into him, taking on each wave of pleasure as his hips thrusted into uncontrollably until they finally stilled as he climaxed, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

Your name was the only thing on his lips as he finally pumped into you slowly a few more times, riding out what was left of his high. He fell on top of you, his body spent. You sighed softly as his lips delicately traced the skin of your neck, ghosting along the hickeys already forming there.

“Love you, baby,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You looked at his face, feeling nothing but pure adoration as you answered him quietly, “I love you, too.”

You laid that way with him until the both of you drifted off into a deep sleep. You knew that you would have a lot to discuss in the morning, but in that moment, everything felt okay, and as you looked down at Jake’s sleeping form, you knew that that was more than enough

taglist: @westernwoods @sunfl0wer-power @gold-mines-melting @alwaysonthemend @andtherestishistory13 (send me an ask/dm me if you wanna be added to my taglist!!)

[stanchett]

Is it possible to write a fic about gwen from in fabric again? Reader shares a class with gwen and ends up sketching them a lot. Gwen has no idea why this person in their class keeps staring at them, till she finds a sketch that the reader accidentally forgot to place in their bag. Gwen figures it out and starts wearing more eyecatching outfits and sits wherever reader’s line of sight is. Reader is flustered yet inspired so more sketches and less listening to class. Then one day they get partnered for a project and gwen just mentions if they at least had an idea what the project is about since they were too busy making drawings of them? Sorry if it’s super specific, it’s all good if you change some details and make it more smutty or fluffy lol

Here it is!! This was a fun one, I’m glad it was so specific as it made it easier for me to get back into the swing of writing. I haven’t totally gotten back into the mindset of being home yet, so I hope this will suffice 😅 thanks to @deadtooth-taylor and @zephyr-is-tired for beta-ing, and thanks for the prompt, anon!!

Model

3k words

You were always an A student. Perfect GPA, loved by all of your teachers, and you were always seen as an overachiever. So when this beautiful stranger showed up to the first day of class, you were so caught off guard that you knew you would fail. 

Her jet-black hair was what caught your attention first. Second was her height. She walked into the classroom ahead of you, and when she turned to take her seat, you had to keep from stopping in your tracks as your peers entered behind you. She was too preoccupied with readying her course materials to notice you, and for that, you were grateful. You clutched your notebook and pen a little closer to your chest as you walked past her, taking a seat in the row beside her and a couple of desks behind. A few minutes later, everyone else found their seats, and the professor shut the door to begin the class. You pulled out your syllabus, but had a difficult time following along as he read it aloud. You were too taken by the girl in the front row to care. The way she nonchalantly leaned on her elbow on the small desk only made her more attractive. You licked your lips as your eyes swept over her a final time, and opened to a blank page in your notebook. New pen in hand, you began to sketch. 

——

Your only passion aside from your schoolwork was art, but you knew it was far from a promising career path, so you hung onto it as a hobby. That passion shone through as you drew the stunning woman before you, even if you couldn’t see her every detail from your chosen seat. Before you knew it, the professor was wrapping up the period, and your fellow students were standing from their desks and collecting their things. You snapped your “notes” shut and moved to stand. At that very moment, the girl in the front row glanced your way, and your breath froze in your lungs. Your eyes met hers and a smirk appeared on her lips before she looked away, tossing her bag onto her arm. You nearly fell back into your seat as she walked away, peeking over her shoulder a final time before she made her way out of the building. 

You scrambled to pull yourself together, her blue eyes the only thing on your mind. If she was going to be taking this class with you, you’d be totally screwed. 

——

Two weeks passed, and they were filled with stolen glances and brief encounters. Once on your way into the classroom, you nearly ran into her in your rush to get to your seat. You hurriedly apologized, but she didn’t say anything in response. Just shot you a cheeky grin before allowing you to enter the room before her. You could feel her eyes on you the whole way to your desk, but you dared not look up once you were seated. Her gaze both intimidated you and gave you the most ferocious of butterflies you had ever felt. You smiled to yourself upon remembering the way she looked at you, and freed your usual spiral-bound notebook from your bag before shaking away the memory. At this point you considered picking up a separate one for actual class notes, as this one was now a quarter of the way filled with doodles of the girl whose name you had yet to learn. 

As your professor introduced the topic to be covered, you swore you heard him mention the word “project.” At that, your pen stilled, and you looked up to see him writing pairs of names on the whiteboard alongside a list of topics to choose from. Beside your own name in red dry erase marker was “Gwen,” and you said a silent prayer that it wasn’t the one person you had had your eye on for the majority of your time in class. As if she could read your mind, the girl turned around and raised her eyebrows at you, suggesting your suspicions were correct. You only blushed in reply. 

Capping his pen, the professor turned to address the room, assigning all the pairs to partner up. You had a moment of panic before rising from your seat to take the now empty one beside Gwen, and pretended to busy yourself with arranging your things to avoid looking at her. You felt like a bug under a microscope at the way she studied you, and you could quickly feel your blush creeping up higher on your neck. 

As soon as you were settled, she reached her hand out, and your eyes followed up the extension of her arm to meet her own, their bright blue tones just as piercing as you remembered. Your mouth ran dry, and she looked at you expectantly. After a beat of silence, she took it upon herself to make the first introduction. 

“Gwen.” Was all she said, and her voice startled you back into the moment. It was deep yet gentle, only giving you more fuel for your crush on the woman. You shook her outstretched hand and told her your name in return, now slightly embarrassed at your hesitance. She eyed you up and down before flipping to a new page in her notes, allowing you to fully take her in without the fear of her judging your gaze. You weren’t quick enough to look away though, and she caught you staring as she looked up again. Her signature smirk overtook her features again, much like on the day you first saw her, and you were sure your cheeks were a deep shade of red by now. 

“See something you like, y/n?” she teased, and you fought to keep your breathing under control. You were grateful the classroom was filled with chatter from your classmates, otherwise you would’ve been infinitely more embarrassed at her words, had anyone overheard. 

“No- er, sorry…” you rushed to apologize, opening your own notebook to a fresh page. You were careful to turn past all the sketches you had of her; what would she think if she knew you spent nearly every class period drawing her? 

“So, which topic are we choosing?” she asked, turning her gaze to the board to run down the list. Shit. You hadn’t been paying attention at all. You cursed internally at the way you had allowed yourself to become so distracted with the woman in front of you.

“Maybe… number 4?” You hoped you could BS your way through this and at least make it seem like you’d been paying a bit of attention. She turned back at your suggestion, uncapping her pen in preparation to discuss it with you. 

You kept conversation with her surprisingly well, considering how intense her aura was. You could hardly meet her eyes as the two of you spoke, but having some background in the subject definitely aided in the conversation. 

As the period came to a close, you found yourself disappointed as opposed to your usual relief to leave her presence. You shut your notes and the other students began filing out of the room, tossing your things quickly into your bag. You missed one thing, however; a page had torn free from your notepad, and drifted to the floor at Gwen’s feet. It was a drawing of her you had been working on for awhile, coming back to it when you were fed up with your smaller scribbles. She wordlessly scooped it up, noticing you were still preoccupied with gathering your belongings, and placed it in her own bag. She stopped in front of your desk before leaving, a knowing look in her eye as her fingers drummed on the wood.

“See you later, y/n.” she said, your eyes meeting hers once more. With a polite smile, you nodded eagerly as she turned to leave, finally releasing the breath you had been holding. You were definitely studying the textbook when you got back to your dorm. 

——

You were already seated at your new place in the front row as the professor greeted the class, but Gwen had yet to show up. Lo and behold, in she walked just as he was taking attendance, fashionably late. Which was an understatement. Today, she wore a short black dress that hugged every curve, with a fluffy black sweater and heels to match. What really caught your attention though, was the thin black choker around her neck. The way it flexed around the muscles there was dizzying as she fought to catch her breath from hurrying into the classroom. She took her seat beside you and shot you a sweet smile before prepping her things for the lesson. You couldn’t resist the urge to look over at her, her choice of clothing suggesting she probably had somewhere to be after this. 

After briefly addressing the class, the professor dismissed you to pair off and discuss your chosen topics for the remainder of class. You were now more nervous than ever to face Gwen, donning her full makeup and more revealing outfit that made your heart race. You shifted in your seat to turn in her direction, eyes glued to the floor. She noticed your hesitance to look her way, and craned her neck down to bring your eyeline back to hers with a playful smile. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked, despite knowing exactly what she was doing. You offered her a shy smile and met her gaze at last, her flawless winged eyeliner accentuating her hypnotizing eyes. You couldn’t think of anything to say, so you just nodded with a hum. 

“By the way… I think you dropped this last class,” she said as she handed you a folded piece of paper between her index and middle fingers. You didn’t need to open it to know what it was. You could see your pen marks through the thin sheet. You felt your cheeks tinge pink, which had become a habit when you were around Gwen, and grabbed it from her. You noticed the bleed of a marker’s ink in the corner, but didn’t dare unfold it should anyone be looking over your shoulder. You slipped it into the cover of your notebook and shut it again, muttering a quick “thanks” under your breath. 

Gwen was watching you intently with her chin resting in her palm, that damned smirk plastered on her face. She waited a moment before she spoke up again, realizing you may need a second to recover from her discovery of your little hobby. She allowed her eyes to rove over you, and you caught her just as they reached your face. 

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to model for you. I would quite enjoy playing a role in your creative process.” For a moment you thought she was joking, and you scowled at her teasing. She raised an eyebrow and you quickly realized she was serious, your eyes growing wide for a moment. 

“…Really? I mean, if you wouldn’t mind… And since you suggested it-“ You stumbled over your words, hoping you didn’t sound too pathetic. To your pleasant surprise, though, she perked up, a huge smile on her face. 

“Perfect! You can come ‘round to mine at 8,” she said excitedly as the class began to wrap up. The time had flown by, and you didn’t even have a chance to work on your project together at all thanks to your distracted discussion. You realized you didn’t have any of her information before she strutted confidently out of the room. You raised your notebook from the desk and the folded sheet hit your palm before you could put it into your bag. Letting it fall into your hand, you opened it up to reveal what the marks were that you had spotted earlier - Gwen’s dorm and phone number. You felt a swell of pride in your chest when you gave your drawing another once-over. Clearly she knew skill when she saw it. 

——

Around 7:45, you changed into something more suited to the occasion (your favorite paint-streaked overalls and a white t-shirt) and made your way to the hall that held Gwen’s unit. You found her door easily, but hesitated before knocking. Drawing supplies at your side, you took a breath and raised your fist to knock twice. A moment later, she eased the door open and smiled in greeting, still wearing her stunning outfit from earlier in the day. She stepped aside and let you in, and you immediately took notice of dim light in the room and soft music playing, making the space seem suggestive of another purpose entirely. You shook the thought away and stood awkwardly in the middle of the single dorm, too shy to take a seat without being offered one. 

As if she were able to read your mind, Gwen pulled the chair out from beneath her large study desk, now cleared off to make space for your creative needs. But she left a few feet of space between the seat and desk. Leaning on a hand on the back of the chair, she crooked her fingers to beckon you over to sit. You gulped an obliged, your gaze lingering a bit too long on her dexterous fingers. You snapped out of your daze and made your way over, lowering yourself beside her with your things on your lap. She stepped away and reclined on the edge of the desk facing you, her eyes locked on yours. You swore you saw a spark of something mischievous in them in the low light, but you couldn’t be sure. 

“Well? Pose me,” she said, raising an arm in the air dramatically to illustrate her point. You smiled at her display and thought for a moment. You suddenly felt in your element, your reason for visiting Gwen’s coming back to you. Pencil tapping your chin, an idea came to you. 

“Sit on the desk, your back to the wall on your left.” Your voice took on a commanding tone you almost didn’t recognize, and you were willing to bet it equally surprised Gwen. As soon as she was in the position you asked for, you tilted your head in thought as more ideas came to you. You stood from your place and stepped over to her. Placing your fingers under the back of her knee, you mumbled the suggestion to bend it and cross her legs at the ankle. You were too focused on your vision to realize that the movement had caused her dress to ride up higher on her thighs, revealing the lace of her stockings beneath. Gwen, meanwhile, was still in shock at your sudden boldness; she liked this side of you. It was interesting to see you delve so deeply into your passions that you nearly lost yourself in them. 

You brought your hands to her arms, raising one of her hands to her jaw and the other in the air at an angle in front of her. You failed to realize until it was too late how close you had gotten to her; your hips pressing into her thigh closest to you, fingertips grazing her forearms as you caught her eye at last. You stilled in your movements, glancing at her lips then to her eyes with a small smile.

“Perfect,” you whispered before stepping back to your seat, praying Gwen couldn’t see the blush that had risen to your cheeks at the close proximity. You opened up a new page in your new sketchbook and crossed your legs to alleviate the tension building between them, placing the book atop them. You sketched out her outline, and the shapes that stood out the most before starting on the smaller details. You were impressed at how perfectly still your model stayed, the position she was in wasn’t a strenuous one but it took you at least 10 minutes to get things to look the way you wanted. As you began shading, you caught her staring at you with a sly side eye and a smirk before averting her gaze forward again. 

“Something funny?” you asked, her expression throwing you out of your groove a bit. She shook her head dismissively, her smile growing. “What?”

Gwen turned her head toward you and tapped her cheek with her fingers, “You have some graphite…” 

Slightly embarrassed, you wipe at the spot she gestured toward with your fingers, only making it worse unbeknownst to you. Gwen giggled and raised from her place on the desk, bending forward to rest one hand on your thigh while the other’s fingertips brushed over the smudge. A soft gasp left your throat at the contact, taken aback by her touch. Your eyes flicked between hers and her lips, her thumb stroking your thigh causing a particular heat to rise in your abdomen. You licked your lips and leaned into her hesitantly, waiting for her to close the gap between you. When she connected your lips at last, a soft whimper left you. Her hands grasped the straps of your overalls and she pulled you up against her, sending your art supplies tumbling to the floor. 

All at once she flipped your positions, pushing you against the edge of the desk and pinning you there with her hips. Your hands reached for them eagerly, and Gwen swallowed your low groan as they rolled into yours. Before pulling away, her teeth grazed your bottom lip, your heavy breaths falling into sync with each other. She rested her forehead on yours and closed her eyes to gather herself for a moment, her following words causing you a puzzled expression.

“I’m so glad I asked to partner up with you…” You pulled away a few inches and Gwen giggled at your reaction before continuing, “I thought you were adorable, so I asked the professor to pair us up.”

You shook your head in playful disbelief before connecting your lips once again. This time, the kiss was a softer one, and you felt each other smile into it. Not only did you look forward to completing your class project together, as well as having her play the role of your muse, but you had a feeling you would be seeing much more of Gwen long after their completion.

[strxnged]

CHILUMI: # a chasmic mistake.

CHAPTER VI: defense.

chapter summary. in which the truth is discovered and a fierce duel commences.

wc. 2.9k. genre. enemies to lovers, action/adventure.

warnings. lowkey psychological manipulation!! dddne!!

— table of contents

“Hurry up and kill me, Ajax! Don’t hold back!” 

Lumine would not be very easy to kill, slashing and dodging wildly as she was now, had her opponent been any other than Tartaglia, No.11 of the Fatui Harbingers. He blocked her attacks easily—far too easily for someone who had been acting all weakened for the last two days, Lumine realized—and shot at her in sprinting thrusts. His attack patterns were like those at the Golden House the first time they had dueled, and during times again afterwards when she had ambushed him. Times she had tried to stop him from coming this far. These attacks now seemed like subdued versions, but were still enough to get her blood pumping and her legs moving.

“I wish you would at least tell me what this is about!” he complained. He paused in the middle of the pool, drawing energy so that he could unleash a blast upon her. Lumine braced herself. She managed to dodge most of it, only its final wave causing her to stumble as she charged at him with her sword raised.

“You already know what it’s about, Childe.” She spat a reversion to his Fatui codename. She knew it might bother him and hoped it would. 

Lumine managed to break his defenses for a split second, assailing him with a slash to the neck to match her own painful lacerations from the Abyss Herald’s talons just a few minutes before. She had not fought that beast as hard as she was fighting him. She hadn’t fought anything this hard for a very long time.

And that was for a simple reason. 

Lumine had not been this pissed off in ages.

“You’re putting up a pretty good game, here,” he praised her. “How becoming.”

She only scoffed, and rolled out of the way to avoid a counter. Her mind was swimming and only knew that it was an unfair fight; that she would not take victory as an end, but he would. And yet there was nothing that would stop her.

This was the Chasm curse. She wasn’t sure whether it was fueling the infatuation or the detestation, but she was so overpowered by it now that she was sure she knew why he’d led her this far. Her only escape would have to start with his death. Then the rest of the Harbingers, if they crossed her.

Her dream had been a warning that she was taking the wrong side with Tartaglia. Perhaps, she thought, heart clenching, it had been a message directly from Aether who had somehow known.

Lumine felt a pressure to her shoulder and she fell back onto the edge of the pool with an inelegant splash. Childe loomed over her. One of his Electro blades pressed through the fabric of her—his—jacket. She couldn’t move or pull herself out from under it. He leaned further, supporting his posture with the tips of both blades pressed into the ground.

“Look at you,” he cooed. His eyes were crazed with vigor as they always were in battle. “The price of a single slip. You still have much to learn.”

She struggled, straining a hand for her sword.

“It was fun!” he declared.

He traced one of her wounds ever-so-lightly with the electrified point of his other sword. It hurt like hell. She screamed.

“Now, won’t you tell me what’s the matter? I’m dying to know.”

He sure was.

Lumine managed to reach for and grasp the hilt of her blade. She swung it at the weapon touching her neck, successfully knocking it away. But he stopped her from swinging it a second time. It then became clear that he had grabbed her sword by the blade.

Still unprepared to give up, she propelled her foot at him, managing to knock his knee in just the right way that caused him to stumble. “This only ends when you’re dead,” she insisted, pushing herself and the jacket out from under the other weapon’s pressure. Her hand curled around it as she went, pulling it right out of his grasp.

He could have killed her right there, she realized. He’d seen an opening and driven the blade right through the jacket a centimeter above. But now she bore one of his weapons, and he bore hers.

Lumine had not up until this point wielded any Electro infusion or ability. She found it to be exhilarating. It seemed to act with a mind of its own, with a haste to kill. Even as a creation of Childe’s, it seemed to want him dead just as badly as she did.

She did not waste time. Against the combination of environmental Hydro, his Electro, and Lumine’s Anemo, the Harbinger stood no chance. She soared at him, propelled by focus and loathing. And Childe, still recovering from the kick, was at her mercy.

Lumine could not help but relish in the feeling properly pinning him down, blade at his neck.

Finally.

“This isn’t you, Lumine,” came a remark from the winded Childe. This was the first true protest he had given, and she wanted to hear more.

The only issue she found was the mask, which he had pulled over his face in the beginning of the fight. She needed to see fear in his eyes. Lumine reached for the top of the mask, dragging it off his face harshly.

“Any last words, Harbinger?” Her voice was deep—hoarse—breaking. Desperate.

Finally seeing his flushed, spirited visage, she felt a twinge of something that was not hatred.

“None today,” he replied, reaching an arm to his chest. “I’ll save you from this.”

It wasn’t blind infatuation, either.

Lumine pressed the Electro blade to his pale neck, drawing beads of crimson. “One more move and you’re dead.”

Childe ignored this, grasping something at his collar and wrenching it out of place.

A new feeling came over her as if her very mind was being ripped out of her skull. Shattering her spine, clouding her sight, plugging her senses. Her strength faltered immediately. Her ears rang. It was like standing in that Abyss mud, only worse and much faster. The hatred, the infatuation, the passion���all were gone.

It was only the remaining feeling—worry. She felt worry, only worry. Pure, pristine concern for the protest in Childe’s eyes which—which she saw no more, her vision going dark as her posture fell limp and she collapsed on top of the Harbinger.

After a few seconds of feeling as if she was made of stone, Lumine panickedly regained consciousness of her senses—humiliatingly comforted by Childe’s warmth as she tried to regain her mental balance. Were those his hands holding her back?

Her sight and strength returned to normal and she pushed herself off of Childe.

She could not remember why she wanted to kill him, or that she did. But something was wrong, or had been changed. And it had to do with whatever Childe had ripped from his neck. She looked over at him.

He was sitting up. The chain necklace she had noticed earlier dangled now from his fingers, swinging gently. The charm was as irresistibly beautiful and eye-catching as it had been earlier. There wasn’t anything particular she could tell she liked about it, only that she liked the looks of it. She liked them very much.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Childe asked, rousing her to his presence. She’d almost forgotten about him in a moment.

She nodded. The sweat and enervation of an abruptly terminated duel still held her mind in a fuzz, but something else seemed to be causing a thicker fog. She did not want to look away from the necklace.

To her disappointment, he pressed it and its chain into his palm, watching her reaction. She finally looked him in the eye.

“What was that?”

He laughed coldly. “You… don’t know?”

She glanced down at his closed palm again, shaking her head no.

He put his hand behind his back, and her gaze followed it.

“Lumine,” he said softly. “Would you back up so that I can explain? Please?”

She noticed then that she was leaning towards him rather intimately. She must have moved unconsciously to get a closer look at the charm. Lumine checked herself and did as he said. 

With the charm fully out of sight, she found that she was able to recall the exact context of the situation. They’d defeated an Abyss Herald who had beckoned Childe to kill her. She had been referred to as his target. The bounty he’d been hunting. The prey he’d been luring.

It was still a terrible thing to be aware of—but she wanted him to explain himself.

“You know, Lumine,” he said as if reading her mind, “I’m shocked, really. It took you quite a while to catch on.”

She did not know what to say or think. Was he confirming it?

“You know exactly what I am,” he continued, “and you’ve known it the whole time. I never hid my mission from you. Not really.”

“You said it was… that it was world domination,” she said, stumbling over her words. 

He looked like a different person right now. A dear friend, but not a villain, and not a warrior. Just a friend, apologizing and explaining.

Childe shook his head. “That’s my end goal. There are a lot of steps to that, you know. It’s no easy process.”

“What are you saying?” She selfishly hoped that he would be able to justify everything that he’d done.

“I’m saying that one of those steps is serving the Tsaritsa. And, in the least offensive way possible, you were in the way of that.”

“That was on purpose.”

He laughed again. “And that’s what made you so damn easy. Once I had your attention, distracting you—which was, of course, my mission—was simple as sight-seeing the nation, acting like I was after some rare animal.” He paused and the silence was louder than the screaming in her mind. “I’m hardly proud of it, but my goodness have you ever made it a pleasure, Lumine.”

Lumine’s mouth was dry as she stuttered, “But…”

Childe looked apologetic—and, after all these days she had spent by his side, she was fully inclined to believe it was sincere. He reached his hand to her face, gently rubbing a thumb on her cheek. “I’m sorry. I really am. I will admit that I was forced to use… alternative methods to grab your attention.”

She understood before he showed her. The necklace in his palm drew her focus almost immediately, despite her semi-frantic emotional reaction to the tenderness of his touch on her cheek.

“It’s a Snezhnayan Charm of Mild Entrancement. Nothing fancy, but works like a…”

Lumine had snatched the charm from his hand, cradling it in her palms. It felt like it was drawing in her thoughts, her emotions, her will. “Can you destroy it?”

“I—” 

She tore her gaze away from it with great effort. Tears pooled in her eyes as she forcibly latched them onto Childe’s face. “I thought I was falling in love with you. Then I wanted you dead. Please destroy it, Ajax. I hate it.”

He didn’t wait another moment, taking it from her grasp. He hurled it onto the rock floor and lifted her sword from where it lay at his side. “May I—”

“Do what you have to.”

He stood and brought the edge of her blade down upon it heavily. A shing came from the impact, as both the charm and the blade shattered. The sound echoed down the cavern, and the charm was no more.

Lumine was flooded with insurmountable relief. Her unnatural edge had been destroyed with the charm and she knew it had been the cause of her madness, not the curse of the Chasm. Her wits returned, finally, and she understood. 

She got to her feet, looking to Childe. “It only amplified interest, right?”

He nodded. “That sums it up. It was tuned specifically to affect you. And since I wore it, well…”

“I really did want to kill you just now, with or without that Charm.”

“I know.”

“And I really think…” She paused, noticing a moment too late that she was about to say something humiliating. “... That I…”

“Lumine, please don’t.”

She didn’t.

The cool glow from the cavern highlighted how Childe’s eyebrows were gathered, how his teeth were gritted, and how his head was tilted solemnly. “What you’re feeling right now… it may be an effect of the charm.”

Lumine’s eyes fell on the chain on which the Charm of Mild Entrancement had been. In the Charm’s place, all that remained was shattered glass-like material and substance resembling clear blood. The gold shimmer was gone.

She looked around the cave. The pool of the small cavern opened up into a larger area. In the center was something that could only be described as an immense mushroom. It had a long, thick, white stem and a cap shooting out from a thing that resembled branches. From the higher, largest cap dangled blue strings of lights. It was a beautiful, strange sight, one that she definitely would have seen before if she hadn’t been under an Entrancement spell.

And yet, looking back at Childe, she still found him as dazzling—as enticing—as he had been before… if not more than ever.

Childe’s gaze softened. “I really am sorry. And I’m sorry for how much I enjoyed it.”

She took a step closer to him, gauging her capacity to say what was on her mind. “It was scummy of you,” she declared, “and I want to hate you for it.”

He nodded again, sighing.

“How long were you supposed to be distracting me for?”

Childe took a sharp breath and clicked his tongue. “Until further notice.”

“Seems like a bothersome mission for you.”

He laughed, running his hand through his tousled hair. “As if you care about what bothers me, girlie.” 

Lumine fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket, which she still wore. She knew it had been ripped and scuffed in a few places from that fight—the same would have happened if he had been wearing it, of course. And her hair felt like it had been pulled out of place. Her neck stung, still. She put a hand to the scarf and saw her blood on it.

Childe, on the other hand, looked like he ought to be cold. They had been splashing about in the pool in the cavern, dousing each other in cave water. His hair and clothes were damp and his skin was glistening. But he looked right at home in the cool water, smiling at her like that.

“What if I do?”

The words came out of her mouth before she could think. They kept coming at the same rate.

“What if I was really falling in love with you? What if the Charm was only playing on feelings that already existed? What if the infatuation wasn’t entirely false?”

“You don’t even like me,” he said. He looked a little hopeful, but as if he was repressing. “I’m kind of a bad guy. I’m a Harbinger. We have different lives, you and I, and you don’t exactly favour mine. You know, almost killed an entire city—”

“ —Almost.”

“Yes, but I’ve murdered many others without hesitation. That’s who I am.” His voice fell to a whisper. “You know I’m not quite of this world, Lumine.”

She was becoming more confident, now that she was in her right mind. It was only becoming clear to her how it had possessed and manipulated her attention. But now that her will was her own again, she wasn’t particularly motivated to look away. 

She shrugged at him, voice breaking. “Neither am I, Ajax.”

Lumine felt fingers grab her chin. She felt pressure from a hand on the back of her neck. She felt soft lips against hers; she felt warmth in her cheeks as she caught onto the situation. Childe didn’t kiss her hesitantly; it was frantic and heated. He kissed her like he had wanted to do so for a very long time. An excruciatingly long time, evidently.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting one hand dive into his curls. He pulled her closer.

The two paused. Lumine watched Childe slowly open his eyes and smile at her. He looked absolutely starstruck, eyes hooded and sparkling—but his hand had settled on her jaw, the other snaking firmly around her waist. It was like he wanted badly to hold her, but he could not believe that he had the opportunity to do so.

Lumine had something occur to her then. She grabbed his wrist and held it up so that she could look at the palm. Sure enough, the glove was blood-stained and cut through to his lacerated skin.

“Why the hell did you grab my blade like that?” she scolded, inspecting the injury.

“Ah—Lumine, that hurts!”

“Idiot.”

“Come on, now. You gave me no choice. You were trying to kill me.”

Lumine gazed up at him. “And you were having too much fun, Harbinger.”

He pouted.

“Fine… Ajax.”

“Lumine,” he mimicked her, tilting his head with a grin.

She finally, finally smiled at him. And in the darkness of the Chasm, in the pool swirling with a bit of each of their blood, she had one more question left in her mind.

“So. What the hell are we gonna do now, Ajax?”

fin.

author’s note. so. there we have it. i am without words because i'm just excited about the fact that i've finished posting it now, but i really must say that it has been wonderful receiving feedback on this fic over the last five weeks and i see all of you that kept up and read the whole thing. thanks for being patient and reading through to the end. i am always sincerely grateful when people take the time to read my works.

without further ado, this has been A CHASMIC MISTAKE.

comments are valued and appreciated.

➳ GENSHIN MASTERLIST

[tiredflowercrown]

sunrise

I did it!! @shouldwemaybe I did it!! For you! And @panthera-tigris-venenata of course

Ben takes a deep breath, trying and failing to not heavily lean on Leighton, before moving outside. The brighter lighting nearly blinding him before he gets his bearings. She tugs him along forcing him to push through the pain.

“Suck it up, we have to move.” Leighton grits out, clearly struggling with his prolonged weight on her.

He attempted to pull himself together before traveling through the forest. The roots seem to jump out and trip him while the shifting patches of light made everything blur together. He was struggling to move faster than a stumble when they both fell to the ground.

Leighton hissed, her face scrunched in pain. For a few brief moments it appeared as if the ground was where they were staying before she gritted her teeth and began getting up. Something about her ankle didn’t look right and when she put weight on it, it buckled.

“Fuck”

She tried a different method of getting up, relying on the opposite leg before helping Ben up.

“Come on, we have to keep moving.”

“You just hurt your ankle horribly and you’re just acting like its nothing?”

“It’s not the worst injury I've had and if we don’t keep moving it will seem like child play to the other injuries I'll have. Now move.”

Ben stared at Leighton, at her sucken dead looking eyes, at her clammy pallor skin, at the unmistakable fear lining her entire being. She was just a kid, that was plain to see. He doubted that she was older than 12. And she had that much fear over helping him. It was just occurring to him that she very well could be risking her life to try and save his. Ben starts to move.

Together they traverse through the forest, slower but still somehow making a good pace. When a shack appears amidst the trees, Leighton almost seems excited, urging on towards it. Perhaps this was the Escape that she had mentioned earlier. But when she pounded on the door, something told him that wasn’t the case.

“Michelle! I’m calling in the favor!” Leighton yelled continuously banging on the door, bracing both herself and him against the wall.

The door swings open and a woman stands there, glaring at the two of them while bouncing a crying child.

“What do you think you are doing? I had just gotten her down. I know you don’t care about others but it doesn't make me want to help you more.” Her voice was cold and scathing yet quiet, still trying to calm the child.

“Michelle, look at him. Really look at him. He needs to get to the Escape and now.”

“Fuck. Maeve I assume?”

“Who Else. I fucked my ankle up,” Leighton hesitated, seemingly struggling to find the words. “I can’t make it there with him by myself. We’ll both be caught and then we are as good as dead.” She gritted her teeth and tensed her shoulders before staring the other down.

“Give me a moment.” Michelle turned, walking into the house while calming the child in soft tones.

Leighton helped him in, leading him over to a rundown set of chairs. He leaned back in the chair grateful for the rest. The area was bare, yet clearly lived in. A blanket on the ground with a stuffed animal on it. A stack of medicinal and herbal books on the kitchen counter. The scratches and drawings on the walls. They all pointed towards this being a home, but that made no sense to him.

Where were the pictures? The toys? The signs that there was a family here? Ben couldn’t comprehend how there was a family here, how there was a child living here.

After a few minutes Michelle walked back into the room, a mound of fabric wrapped around her body. She moved towards him, adjusting her shoulders and looking him up and down.

“So you’re the king. You don’t look like much. Both Maeve and the Isle do that to people. But you look far worse than most. I assume that's due to Auradon though.”

She moved, grabbing two smaller books and an old worn out ace bandage. Pausing, she stared at the blanket until she shook her head and strode over to Leighton, accessing her ankle. Poking and moving the foot around until she seemed satisfied. Letting out a deep sigh, Michelle grabbed the baby blanket and used it to splint Leighton’s ankle.

“That should hold until we get there. Ready?”

Leighton just stared at her before getting up, hesitantly putting pressure on her foot, nodding at the lessened pain. Together they helped him up, it wasn’t until that moment that Ben realized the mound of fabric on her back was holding the child, covering them almost entirely with only the slightest peak of a face seen.

They trudged along, leaving the house and moving back into the forest. Only this time he could see gold paint marked along some trees, a path of some sorts. What seems like hours later, they escape the forest stumbling onto a deserted road. Dozens of dilapidated houses and shacks along this street and connecting roads. But as they moved closer, there was only one with a gold painted door. A multi-storied house with boarded up windows each marked a line of gold paint.

Every continued step became harder and harder. The fatigue and pain that had been constant all day was becoming unbearable. His movements were growing more and more sluggish. Michelle glanced at him, pink hair falling in her eyes.

“Shit. We’re losing him. Ginny! Marsaili!”

The sound of a door swinging open and hurried footsteps proceeded by multiple sets of hands touching him set him in a panic. Thrashing and pulling away from everyone. A hand went to the back of his neck and he immediately went limp. Dark curls covered his vision as a woman quickly examined him.

“Grab him Mars. It’ll be easier than walking the rest of the way.” The woman said, never looking at his face.

It was the last thing he heard before everything went black.

When he next came to, it was in a barren bed with Mal by his side.

It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

[saintheartwing]

May the Force Be With You, Pt.21: Cruelty and Kindness with Rose Tico

"I have to say, I'm SO impressed with how far you've come." Luke cheerily told Rose Tico as he bowed a bit at her. He and Rose were currently standing at a waterfall, for the very top of the roaring "beast" of water was a distinct swell of natural Force. The living force flowed as freely around them as the water did into the gigantic, deep lake below, Rose slightly jiggling her leg as she sat on a rock, Luke pacing back and forth in front of her.

"I have to say, your mastery of lightsaber combat really is wonderful, Rose. You're already so far along in the ways of a jedi knight. Because of that…I'm giving you this." He held up a slightly faded rebel jacket. "My sister, Leia, said I could give you this. It's the jacket SHE wore when she was fighting on the front lines on Endor." He said. "It has a lot of sentimental and symbolic value to us. Endor was our greatest triumph, where we finally ended the horror of the Empire and all it wrought for good."

Rose looked it over, holding it in her hands. It felt weighted and warm as she slid it over the slim white shirt she had on.

"Consider it a symbol of you graduation and skill. I've given special, sentimental gifts to ALL of my students who complete Jedi knight training as quickly and as well as you did. You've earned it." Luke warmly intoned. "Do you like it?" He asked.

"It's…very warm and nice." She confessed. "I like all the pockets it has inside, that's helpful."

"You're almost fully ready to join me on missions. There's just one thing you need to work on." Luke admitted as he gestured at her. "I sense a lot of…resentment in you. I thought, the more time we spent together and the more we trained, you'd open up about it, but it's been quite a while, and you never came close to volunteering it, so…I wanted to ask you directly. Is everything alright? Is there something you want to ask of me? Something more you'd like FROM me?" He wanted to know. "You do know you could just ask if you feel you're missing something from our lessons."

"I do have a question, Master Skywalker. Do you remember an anacondan alien by the name of R'ohrs Tey'koh?" She inquired, as her body began to shake. All of the lingering anger and rage she'd been trying to keep inside her was bubbling up.

"Rose…?" Luke asked quietly, his eyebrows raising up slightly.

"He was the strongest of the Anacondan army that was stationed where you found me. He was my father. And now…today, I have my revenge on you for killing him!" She roared out, drawing her lightsaber, and diving at Luke, swinging it!

"Rose, wait, let me explain!" Luke tried to say, blocking her strikes. The harsh sizzling hiss of saber echoed through the air, drowned out quickly as the waterfall continued to pour down into the deep lake below. Rose swung her lightsaber again, as if it was a hammer, and Luke was the nail she was trying to pound down into the ground. The faint sharp hissing strikes of lightsaber hitting lightsaber rang out every couple of seconds, splitting the droning drum of constant waterfall cascading in two over and over!

Luke continued to inch around, avoiding striking back at Rose in return as her face as alit with a furious rage. Her eyes were narrowed, her usually-ruddy cheeks becoming redder still as her pleasant face became filled with hatred. She was practically spitting bile as she kept launching herself at Luke, trying to knock him into the water! But then Luke decided to get a LITTLE serious, in the hopes that he could disarm her. He tried to swing at her saber, to cut it off at the top, hoping to destroy her weapon!

The good news was it worked, he managed to slice off the top of the hilt, and her saber crackled and sparkled and the blade of light vanished, but Rose, caught by surprise, reeled back, and in doing so, she fell down into the water, into the strong current, and before Luke could catch her, THWOOSH! She'd fallen right off the waterfall!

"Oh no. Oh, good heavens, no! NO!" Luke cried out. "ROSE?! ROSE!" He screamed out, trying to make his voice heard over the roaring of the waterfall as he reached out with the force, concentrating hard, extending a hand. But…try as he might, he couldn't FEEL her force presence. The living Force around them was interfering, it was practically choking him. It was like trying to listen for a specific voice among a crowd, and as good as Luke was, he wasn't THAT good. Worse still, Rose's presence was fading away as the oxygen began to leave her lungs, she was tossed and jostled about in the water, bruises manifesting all over her frame as the current battered her! She was swept down, down, down the river, far away from Luke, out of his reach.

But…

NOT out of reach from the being that had been down the river, and on his way to do a bit of spying upon her and Luke. The being had eyes that never stayed the same color, always shifting, wearing a hooded, cloaked, armored frame that looked as heavy as the thick, clawed gauntlets he wore. Yet he plucked Rose out of the water with astounding gentleness as he looked down at her, examining her closely. Upon his black was a distinct symbol, an enormous vibro-axe with a protective, decorative and very fancy wooden covering around the middle.

"…well what have we HERE?" He inquired.

"…who…who are you?" Rose moaned out, finally managing to cough out a question, feeling oxygen flowing back into her lungs as the world stopped spinning all around her.

"You may call me…the Axe of the Sith." The Axe intoned. "You and I have much to discuss. What's your name?"

"…Rose Tico, sir."

"Well, Rose. Why don't we have a talk about Luke Skywalker?"

"That was how I met my new master. The Axe taught me everything I'd need to win, helping me bring out my TRUE power!" Rose proclaimed. L'ezz, Finn, Poe and Omarosa were currently locked up, stuck inside of Rose Tico's little dungeon she'd made. She knew that, very likely, that Darth Mendax would be back to save Omarosa, and she was also counting on the Dyad trying to get back their precious apprentices. So she'd sent out a message to the Dyad, informing them that SHE had the two now, and if they wanted them back alive and in one piece, they'd come…and quick.

Meanwhile, Zack was currently having HK-47 patch him up. They'd abandoned the ship for obvious reasons, knowing that Rose would undoubtedly come back to inspect it…and they were right. Once she'd sent out the message to the Dyad, her and her little goons had practically stripped the ship apart. Luckily, they'd not found the two, who had already taken off with some medical supplies and the like so Zack could be healed up…and plan a way to rescue his friends.

"Observation: you are not holding still."

"I know, I know. Doctors and nurses make the worst patients…" Zack confessed as HK-47 applied the bacta to the last spot NOT tended to as he sighed a bit, hanging his head. What stung worse than any injury was the plain and simple fact that he had failed. Totally and utterly failed to beat Rose Tico. He'd lost fair and square, and now…he had a sinking feeling he'd have to unleash his inner Sith to win. HK-47 had collected a nice variety of weapons for Zack to look over and he laid them out on a patch of grass as Zack rubbed over his side, letting the bacta softly tingle against his wounds.

He'd fallen clean all the way through the air, through a tree or two, then collided, at last, with a river…a river that, of all things, led to a waterfall. The very waterfall that Rose had fought Luke at! He'd barely managed to get out of the current in time, desperately lashing out with the Force, using it to tug a downed tree towards him and clinging to it for dear life as he slowly lifted himself out of the river and onto safety on the shore. He'd found HK-47 shortly after and now as he stared at the collection of weapons, he wasn't sure what to use.

Because…in all honesty he didn't want to fight Rose. Rose sounded like she had good reason to hate Luke. Luke had, evidently, actually killed her dad. There'd been nobody else there, fighting the Anacondans, after all. Her dad clearly hadn't just tripped and fallen and broken his neck. He'd been cleaved in two by a saber! It hadn't been an accident. And it wasn't like he'd been stealing antiquities from a Jedi grave like Omarosa's mom, and had picked a fight. He'd just been following orders from the Dyad. He was just on the wrong side…

And yet…there was a part inside of him, a perhaps naïve sliver, that kept saying "Luke would never just kill somebody. He'd always give them a chance. There HAS to be more."

"Information: The flamethrower would be an excellent weapon. It is a highly effective tool against Jedi and Sith alike. They never see it coming." HK-47 commented.

"…I need to go back to that waterfall." Zack remarked. "I could feel the living Force flowing there, and every time before we've tapped into it, we've been able to see through the Force, to know the past. If there's even the tiniest chance I could use it to see back in time, see what Luke did…maybe I can prove he's not the killer Rose thinks he is."

"Observation: I could call such an idea foolish, but given how the Force seems to be useful in peering into the past, and you've done it before, the idea is not the most stupid thing I've heard you say." HK-47 admitted. "Further analysis: There is one issue. It may, perhaps, be possible to use the living force to look back into the past, but when you did it before with my mistress Omarosa, she was present, and you could use her, in essence, as a tether to a specific point in time that you wanted to observe. Rose is not going to be there. Luke is not going to be there. Her father will not be there. Conclusion: This is a shot in the dark. A desperate hope that the Force may show you something you want. A leap of fath."

"…you're right." Zack admitted as he looked up at the sky and the darkening clouds rolling in. "…but perhaps it doesn't HAVE to be. Could you…take a message?" He asked of HK-47 with a grin coming across his face as he looked back up at the sky. The beginnings of a plan were forming. "Also, I'm going to need some VERY special metal…"

…

…

…

…Rose couldn't believe the gall of him. Not only had The Eye of the Sith shown up, the robotic, cycloptic being with a powerful, steely body inspecting him from top to bottom but…so had the Body of the Sith, their youngest-looking and most irritating member. The Body was a super smug-looking little shit who had short cut hair, the human having a usually big, shit-eating grin on his face, wearing his usual nice, fancy necklace that indicated his allegiance to Darth Plagueis the Wise bouncing on his chest as he made his way down the hall towards her and those big, rather empty eyes with little pupils. He looked positively cartoony, it was almost ludicrous, but what astounded Rose was that HE got to be the Body.

Him?! Really? She didn't get why their master had chosen him. She was all for the idea that children were the future of the Sith, fine by her. The next generation and what they learned would be invaluable but…him?! THIS child? This selfish, irritating, and frankly SEXIST pig?

"Now come on, slap me some skin!" He said as he held up a hand.

"No way. You smell like you haven't bothered to take a bath lately." Rose grunted. She REALLY didn't want them to be seeing her here, in the prisoner wing. She could feel the judging stares of the others on her, more fierce and piercing than even the Eye of the Sith's. "What do you want?"

"I heard you're more into taco than sausage. That true?" He asked.

"…yes, so…?" Rose wanted to know.

"IIIII'VE fully developed the perfect charm technique. Literally!" The Body bragged as he jabbed his thumb at himself. It was a good thing he was there!...as a DISTRACTION. He and the Skull of the Sith had had a nice little talk and had decided to have some…insurance…ready in case Rose failed. "And that Omarosa, WHOOOOOO." The Body winked knowingly at Rose.

Rose twitched a bit. "…yeah, she's…she's fine, she…she looks alright." She confessed.

"You should let me help you. I'm good enough to turn a lesbian hetero. My "lightsaber" even got sued for copyright infringement because it's strong enough for a man, but made for a woman." The Body bragged proudly as he smacked his fist on his chest. He was really enjoying the clearly uncomfortable "what the flying f—k are you on about" look on her face that Rose was beginning to develop.

"…wanna say that AGAIN?" Rose quietly, dangerously asked. The Eye had no mouth, but if it had, it would have tsk-tsked as it stepped back and to the side as the Body winked at Rose.

"Come onnn, let me help you. I've got a foolproof Force Manipulation technique that I've managed to make practically permanent. See, how about I teach you the ways of the…how you say…the ROMANCE?" He asked in a lousy fake foreign accent. "I'll help you get in her pants no problem if you ask nicely."

Rose decided she'd heard enough and THWA-THWAM! She stomped right on his foot. He howled, clutching it, bouncing up and down as he cringed and wailed and whined. "You filthy, disgusting little pig! You're MORE of a pig than the literal fucking pig in my prison cell right now! Get out of my sight or so help me, I'll rip your foreskin off with a pair of tweezers and frame it on my wall as a trophy!" She snarled as The Body cringed, and hopped off, grumbling furiously under his breath.

"How DARE she…how DARE she!" He growled. "I'm gonna make that bitch regret that. She can't pick on me just cuz I'm a little kid!" He whined to the Eye. "EVERYONE underestimates me just cuz I'm young. I'll show them. I'll show them all! When I get a bit taller and stronger, THEN she'll HAVE to take me seriously!"

"I sincerely doubt that. Rose Tico only respects success. You're the least accomplished of all of us because of your age." The Eye intoned. "You will have to, as you organics say, "Step up your game"…"

Rose stomped off, fuming, heading for the front gate of her base, deciding to get some fresh air, when she saw HK-47 emerging from the bushes. Her guards already had their blasters drawn, but HK-47 was wielding a white flag made up of a blanket. "Announcement: I come bearing a message from Darth Mendax. A challenge to a duel."

"…oh really? Where does he want it?" Rose asked as she cracked her knuckles. "I'm in a super foul mood right now and I REEEEAAALLY wanna take it out on somebody!"

"Statement: Come meet me at the waterfall, where the Force flows as freely as the water."

Rose immediately flinched. Her face blanched slightly, the memories of that day swelling up for a brief moment before she forced them back down, and then nodded curtly.

"Fine. Go. Tell him. I'll be there in an hour…"

Indeed. It didn't take her long before she and Darth Mendax were there. Zack had put his disguise back on and he held his lightsaber up while wearing…

Nothing. Absolutely NOTHING on him but a simple robe to cover his lower body. His surprisingly-well-built upper frame was there, his empty eye sockets staring out at her. HK-47 kept back, keeping Zack's things behind him in the medical supplies box they'd emptied out as Rose cringed a bit. It was incredibly creepy, seeing this Logosian without eyes looking at her all the same. Those empty, deep, reddish/brown sockets were haunting to gaze at and so she kept her head slightly lowered, looking at his chest instead.

"Well. This is unusual. You're gonna try to fight me like that?" She asked, decked out in her majestic armor, swinging her sword about. Zack waited, calmly holding up his lightsaber, taking in slow, steady breaths before he closed his eyelids over those empty sockets.

"Like a river over stone…" He murmured. "I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me." Zack murmured.

"I hate that fortune cookie SHIT." Rose grumbled. "Lemme guess what you're gonna say. "There is no death, there is the Force"? Then where is my father?!"

"No. Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force." Zack spoke softly. "…go on. Strike at me with all your hate."

Rose decided to do just that. She leapt at him, swinging her fancy ebony metal sword, swinging it right at Zack! Zack braced himself, blocking her strike as a loud, echoing hiss rang through the air, piercing briefly the steady drum of the waterfall pouring down, down, down into the lake below. Rose began to swing at him as he continued to block her strikes, but she noticed that he was…clearly barely putting any effort into it. His face seemed screwed up in concentration, she had SEEN him move much more quickly before when they were fighting, why was he being so slow now?!

"Are you holding back out of PITY?!" She snarled angrily, a furious look coming to her face. She couldn't believe the audacity of this "Darth Mendax". She began to strike more harder, as if she was wielding an axe, not a sword, and wanted to cut him up into bloody chunks! THWAM-THWAM-THWAM, down it came again and again, and Zack kept blocking, cringing, building up all the strength he had in him for his plan. It was a long shot, but as the pouring rain began to cascade down and the crack of thunder rang through the air, he felt a renewed sense of confidence rise. He could do this, if he was just…careful.

KRAKA-KAA-KOOOM! The thunder made it clear the harshest parts of the storm grew ever closer and closer! Rose kept slashing and slicing away at him as he felt the pitter-patter of the rain on him. It was obvious to "see" in front of him now, she wasn't even remotely hiding her Force presence and the rain prickling onto every part of her armor spelled out where she was as easily as if he was seeing with his actual eyes. Then the moment came. She decided to swing horizontally in a big, huge, SWOOOSH!

He ducked, and then tugged something out of the robe, and slammed it onto her chest armor. She stupidly stared down, briefly stepping back before looking angrily up at him, but before she could speak…that's when he did it. He summoned all the Force power he'd been holding onto and forcibly launched her into the sky with his force powers, holding her up in the air, one hand slightly clenching its fingers, cringing harshly as she snarled, trying to manifest her own force abilities to break free.

However, the damage was done. He'd smacked a HIGHLY conductive piece of metal onto her that had attached to her chest, a little party favor from one of Omarosa's bag of Sith Tricks, and a very useful technique to direct Sith lightning at. Or…well…regular lightning.

And THAT was exactly what happened. The lightning struck Rose Tico with the auditory roar of a lion in the sky as her shriek was cut off. The distinct hiss of burning armor and flesh filled the air as she flopped down, out of the sky, Zack using his powers again to get her to land on the side of the river, to ensure she didn't drown, as he wiped his brow, and made his way over to her, HK-47 joining him, giving him back his eyeballs.

HK-47 began to remove the singed, ruined armor along with Zack, and sure enough, Rose had been burned horribly. Third degree burns were everywhere, save, thankfully, her upper chest and most of her face. She'd lucked out, in a sense. It was bad…but she wasn't dead yet, and Zack was not giving up on her as he began to administer the heavy duty medical topic they'd kept. The strongest bacta possible was now being poured over her wounds, her voice croaky and filled with pain that was barely suppressed.

"Now you try to save me?" She managed to mutter out. "Good. You're conscious." He said as he gently took her cheek. "I want you to open up your mind to me. And your mind to the Force. I want you to think about that day as hard as you can as the Living Force flows through us like a breath of fresh air." Zack reasoned as he reached up…and took off the blindfold he had on, showing his normal eyes.

Rose gasped. This moment of pure shock, the sheer…BLUENESS of his eyes stunned her, her mouth agape, a strange, odd coolness flowing through her, and in that instant…the Force showed them exactly what they needed.

There he was. Luke Skywalker had faced down all of the other Anacondans and he held his lightsaber up, with only R'ohrs left. "G-Go on, human!" He said, his body shaking nervously. His weapon had been cut in half, none of his comrades had lasted more than a minute. He was dead meat, and he knew it. "I won't accept your mercy! I have my pride! I have my dignity!"

"You have to LISTEN." Luke said. "I wouldn't kill you even if you kept insisting." He remarked as he put his lightsaber away, R'ohrs staring stupidly at him. "I gave you the same fair chance to leave I gave the others, but I'm also letting you walk away…because of THAT." And with that, he pointed right at the necklace on R'ohrs's neck.

"…wh-what?" R'ohrs gaped. "Wait, y-you mean…"

"I can tell that wasn't made by an adult, it's obviously a child's handiwork. What's their name? I've a feeling you have a baby girl? I don't know many boys who like making jewelry for their parents, they make stuff lik cups and bowls or little statues."

"Rose." The anaconda found himself saying. "I adopted her when we first came here, her real parents abandoned her…at least, I think so. We never found out…" He admitted as he looked nervously to the side.

"When I saw you clearly had a kid, I just can't think of fighting you any more."

"…OHHHH." R'ohrs groaned. "Darn it, darn it, darn it! Defeated in battle AND spirit. How humiliating…" He muttered as he shook his head back and forth. "…still, I…I don't know if I can just let you go fight my mistress."

"Look. I'M not gonna tell her you ran off with your kid. Go find Rose. If you wanna wait until you're sure Darth Furiosa's beaten before you get her, just stay hidden out of sight, then I'll come back and let you know its safe to take off. In fact, you could even come with me if you wanted." Luke offered warmly, extending a hand before he retracted it. "Oh, wait, do…snake aliens SHAKE hands?" He nervously asked as a blush came to his face.

Rose, meanwhile, watching all this unfold was…stunned. Zack looked at Luke's blushing face and chuckled a bit. "Wow, kind of a bit of a dork, huh?"

"He…DIDN'T kill him?! Well…well then who…?" Rose began to ask as Luke took off, going to fight Darth Furiosa. And, sure enough, her father stayed hidden, waiting for the sound of Furiosa's loss. But after hearing her cry, believing she was finished, he slithered out from hiding, glancing around…

"Okay. Just gotta find Rose and get out of here…" He muttered, making towards the exit when…

"YOU!"

It was SHE. He turned pale, turning around, a VERY badly wounded, snarl-faced, angry Darth Furiosa gazing at him.

"You were going to take off?!" She hissed out. "The nerve of you! The audacity! The…the…" Her eyes went wide as he felt something prickling at the back of his mind, and her face turned colder than before. "…you were talking with Skywalker." She hissed out. "…so. You chose to betray me…" She growled as she began to hobble towards him a bit, drawing her saber, the foul SSSSZZZZ of the lightsaber rising up as she advanced on him! One hand held out, freezing him in the air! He tried to squirm and thrash to get free, his eyes going wider, wider, Darth Furiosa advancing, the saber held high-

"DON'T LOOK!" Zack immediately pulled her to the side, forcing her head away just in time, covering her ears, almost completely GLOMHFING her head with his arms to do so. In an instant, the scene was gone…and they were in the present, as Rose laid in his arms. Gently, Zack let go, and Rose covered her face with both hands, taking in harsh, deep, erratic breaths.

Zack just gently stroked her back, massaging it a bit. He said nothing. What could he say? The words would be the hurt. His gentle stroking was the best comfort he could give, as if she was a baby in need of rocking. But despite all this, Zack thought he felt something…was off. Was it him or…did the ground just…faintly shake a little? And…

Was it also him or…did it seem…to get very humid all of a sudden?

Then Rose spoke. "…let's…go get your friends. Then I need to be alone for a while."

"I don't think I can let you do that." Zack said quickly. "No offense, but…you KINDA sound like you're gonna hurt yourself if I just let you go." He admitted. "I can't just leave you on your own. You could use a friend right now."

"I don't HAVE any friends." Rose whispered as she wiped the tears on her arm, Zack patting her shoulder, letting the warmth of his hand rest on it.

"You can start with me. How about I tell you my real name?" Zack asked gently, before a voice rang out.

"Heh…heh-heh-heh…I can't BELIEVE it. You went as soft as a baby in her mother's arms on us! I'm so disappointed! I mean, granted, you always had adorable cheeks but STILL! This is so pathetic! I really thought you'd do way better!"

The voice had a distinct, ethereal, yet rough quality to it, as if somebody was trying to speak through a wall of fire. The two looked up in surprise, the distinct form of an armored humanoid emerging from the jungle as HK-47 held up two power rifles, aiming it at the being.

"Announcement! State your name!"

"I am the Skull of the Sith!" The Skull proclaimed. Indeed, it wasn't hard to see why. His entire head was just a big, burning, fiery skull, the skull blazing a creepy color of unnatural blackish/purple as the embers flickered and coalesced about him.

"Observation: You are about to be a CORPSE of the Sith." HK-47 commented dryly as he held his weapons up, as the Skull nonchalantly held up a single fist…and then flicked the bird right at HK-47.

SCHAA-THWOOSH! Before the robot knew what was happening, a slicing blow of burning, intense, laser-like fire shot out and sliced right through HK-47! He was cut in half, looking at his separated body parts as the Skull chuckled evilly and laughed at Zack and Rose.

"I'm gonna separate your skull from its shoulders! I could not believe YOU got chosen to fight this guy. You were just as big a pushover as I thought. No, worse! You had to go and be even more of a pussy than I thought you were! You didn't just lose, you got all…MUSHY. Yeccchhh." He groaned, rolling his eye sockets. "I shoulda been the one to beat him. Luckily, my friend the Body and I agreed on a little plan in case you did lose. It woulda been a win/win. If it looked like you were winning, I'd come in, finish him off, and get a nice share of the glory. But since you lost, we go with plan B. Did you know there's actually a dormant volcano buried waaaaaaaaay far below us right now?"

Rose turned pale and Zack's eyes bulged wide as they shot up, lightsabers held up.

"Oh, don't get any dumb ideas. You think I'm gonna just tell you "I'm gonna press this button and you all get blown sky high unless you do what I say" or something like that?" The Skull snorted. "I may not be a genius, but I ain't that dumb. I did it five minutes ago."

And with that, a loud, horrifying KRAKKA-SCHAA-THROOOOOM rang out, and they turned to look. Burning, horrifying plumes of black smoke were erupting from the ground not far away, as the Skull laughed. "No need to thank me for sparing you a life of total failure. Now I can go back to our master and tell him you tragically perished while fighting Darth Mendax and the others in a glorious volcanic fight." He chuckled.

Then Rose threw her sword at his head. Zack was amazed. It literally soared through the air with astounding swiftness and struck right in the center of his neck, coming right out the other end, his head popping off his neck bone! Zack grinned as he whistled. "DAMN, you've got great aim!"

"Yeah, no…BONES…about it…"

Zack turned paler than Rose as she snarled, the Skull picking his head up and putting it back on his neck as it simply reattached. "You know if I was a normal being that really woulda been something amazing. Buuuuut, well, I'm special. Still, I get it! I get it!" He held his hands up. "You don't want guests. Fine be me. You just relax. Take it easy. Enjoy a nice…bath…" He said evilly as he cackled madly, and pressed a button upon the fancy belt he had around his waist, as he teleported away to, presumably, his ship in the skies above.

"The bastard!" Rose grunted out. "We've got to get back to the prisoner's wing post haste or your friends are dead!" She insisted as she picked up HK-47's top half as he looked down at his bottom, Rose picking THAT up next, slinging both onto a shoulder each. "Where'd you park your ship?"

"HK can tell you. Can you give me the keys to their cell?" Zack asked as Rose shook the belt she had on, gesturing down at a little pouch as Zack rifled through it, getting out a couple of keys. "OK, let's meet at the ship in ten minutes." He said as the earth began to shudder and quake, Zack struggling to stay steady before he took off, racing at top speed towards where his friends were. "Crap crap crap crap crap craaaaaaaaaaaap!" He screamed out. "Stupid scary skeletons!"

Meanwhile, the Eye rolled its singular eye as it piloted it, the Body and the Skull's ship back to their home territory. "Oh, such a dreadful tragedy that that volcano just happened to erupt when it did." The Body commented as he chugged a beer in a nearby chair, hiccupping a bit. "Such a dreadful, dreadful-HIC! HIC HIC! HIC HIC HIC HIC!" He eventually hiccupped so much he fell clean out of his chair as the Skull sniggered.

"Lying snake." The Eye thought inwardly. "Truly, birds of a feather do flock together."

"So…our next target would be Nar Shadaa, correct? Aren't they in the middle of an election?" The Skull wanted to know. "Which means, whoever wins…I just need to take their head right after they do. What an election night coverage THAT'S gonna be for their city!" He laughed. "The whole place'll be thrown into chaos!"

"We're talking about THE Leia and Han of the original Rebel Alliance. The Dyad themselves. We must prevent the prophecy our Master has foreseen. One of those couples will undoubtedly be our end, and facing them shall not be so easy." The Eye intoned. "You underestimate them at your peril. After all, many have fallen before them. They are not fools."

"You are right…I admit it. They've beaten people far bigger than me. And I admit, there's plenty of people who are smarter than me." The Skull confessed before he held up a hand…and a single, darkly burning flame manifested, forming into the faint shape of Leia before he squished it on the spot with a THWOMPHF. "But you know, I've yet to meet somebody who can outthink a bullet!"

[mllechartreux]

Halloween Surprise

Summary: Your Halloween costume is a surprise for Shoto.

Content: fluff, established relationship, characters are 18-19. 

W/C: 639

Masterlist 

“Love, are you almost ready?” Shoto asked patiently, muffled voice coming through from the other side of the bathroom door. 

“Yea, give me 5 minutes, I’ll be out.”

Class 1-A was having a Halloween party and invited all the third years, even those from different courses. Your boyfriend, Shoto, then insisted on escorting you to the party after you confirmed you would go. You tried to convince him not to trouble himself since you were from the Department of Support and your dorm was pretty far from 1-A’s, but your excuses fell flat. He simply said, “Nothing I do for you is a bother, even so, with my ice I’ll be there in seconds, it’s no worry love.” 

The problem wasn’t the distance or walking with him to the party, your surprise would’ve just been that much more dramatic if you showed up to the party alone. You had been working on your costume for a week now, and it was perfect down to every detail. The outfit, the shoes, the hair and even the makeup, which you were putting the finishing touches on now. 

You flattened the wig to your head one last time, taking a good look in the mirror at your appearance. The door to the girls’ bathroom opened just enough to allow your head to peek out and scan the hallway for Shoto. With the hallway empty, you concluded he was probably in the common area. 

It was the gasps from your classmates who noticed you first that alerted Shoto. He craned his neck from his place on the couch to see what the commotion was about. Here you were, standing before him, as him. Your hair was long, silky straight and dual colored, red and white with bangs, like his of course. Your jacket was blue and a tactical vest was overlaying it, just like his of course, except for the inviting amount of cleavage. Even your belt and boots were just like his, canisters swinging against each thigh and boots slightly platformed from the anti-slip spikes. The only difference and perhaps the most satisfying part was the plushness of your thighs, peeking out from in between the skirt that matched the jacket and a pair of black thigh high tights. 

Silently, with eyes trained on, as far as he was concerned, the only person in the room, he approached you. Still a few steps away from you, he stopped to admire you in full, looking up and down, a light blush adorned his cheeks. How, he wondered, you even had his scar. He noticed all of this yet couldn’t seem, or didn’t mind, to see how you were fidgeting under the intensity of his attention. 

“Sho, please say something,” you smiled nervously. 

He grasped your hands at your sides, “Wow, I’m sorry, but I’m stunned into silence by how beautiful you are.”

“You’re not just saying that because I look like the school’s prettiest boy right?” giggling at his confession. 

“No, you were already the prettiest girl in school before this,” voice low and slightly raspy, filled with genuineness and affection.

“Sho…,” You bring him into a tight hug, smiling brightly but careful not to get any of your makeup on his costume. He was going as a skeleton because he only cared to give the “bare bones minimum”. When he told you that he smiled so innocently, like a child who finished making a drawing for their parents.

He cupped the back of your head and used his other hand to press into your lower back, arching your body against his, “Let’s go show everyone that you make a far better me,” he lulled, before pulling back just enough to see your face and press his lips into yours for a slow meaningful kiss. 

Costume Inspo

[rightsforbrunomadrigalonly]

Part 3 to Bruno x Pregnant Reader Head canons???? ( Retitling to Dad Bruno x Reader)

{A/N: It's been requested once or twice that I do a part three to the Bruno x Pregnant reader Head Canon arch. I love the idea of Bruno multiplying like rabbits but I think him and his wife would agree two babies is perfect for their family, so I don't persay think I can call this Bruno x Pregnant Reader anymore. However, because I do ADORE dad Bruno and because I myself am so far down the rabbit whole of Dad Bruno I will oblige. I have thought long and hard about Bruno's children, even going as far as drawing designs for them and doors haha I love them both so much! I’ve even named them, that’s how you know I am attached lmaoooo. But for the sake of immersion I’ll keep the babies nameless for the reader! :) So I guess here's part 3 of what I'll be calling from this point on Dad Bruno x Reader}

Having experienced fatherhood once already, Bruno felt confident about handling anything a second baby could throw his way. While navigating the ins and outs of raising a child weren’t exactly what Bruno would consider a cake walk, he was more than ready to take on the challenge of raising a second bundle of joy. You’d chuckle at the eagerness in his eyes, as he’d wait every day for the babies arrival. 

 The man would be just a bit more on edge about your comfort levels this time around. He remembered from your last pregnancy how Pepa told him not to dote over you, but he couldn’t help it. Even now, 37 weeks pregnant, you still chased after your princesita as if you weren’t about to fall into labor at any given moment. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t uneasy watching you. We all know Bruno is a terrible liar anyway. 

He’d definitely try to take over most of the responsibilities when it came down to tending for your daughter. Bath time? He was on it. No need for you to get on your knees and struggle to get back up. He could give her a bath, and he was pretty damn good at it too! She loved when Papa gave her a bath instead. Dinner? On it! He wasn’t the best cook honestly, but if Julieta wasn’t cooking for the night he’d make sure she went to bed full and satisfied. Bedtime? He’d rock the girl in his arms until she eventually fell deep enough under the sands of slumber to be tucked in for the night. Truly he went above and beyond just to make sure you didn’t over exert yourself in these last three weeks. 

While you found it endearing that the man worried this much, you wanted him to relax. If he kept this pace up, when the newest addition to your family arrived, he’d have no energy to help care for the newborn. 

Y/N: “Mi amor, come lay down. You should get more rest. Once this baby is born we BOTH aren’t going to be seeing the backs of our eyelids for a VERY long time. I know you want to help, but just take it easy.” 

Bruno: “Right, no I know that... I just, I have to finish what I was doing for princesita. I uh, I don’t want to let her down ya know?” 

Y/N: “So let me do it, I can still help take care of our daughter. I’m pregnant Bruno, not incapable” 

 Ouch that tone! Where did that come from? WHOO WHOO Mood swing alert!

Bruno wasn’t a novice when it came to understanding the hormonal imbalances a pregnant woman barreled through. Being the only brother amongst two sisters, he learned a thing or two about not taking the emotional pendulum swings as personal blows. While they still did hurt, he tried his best to understand you may not have meant the tone you delivered your frustrations with. 

Bruno: “I know you aren’t mi Vida. I wasn’t trying to imply that you were- I mean, I didn’t mean to make you feel- I just. I want you to relax too. I know once this little guy comes out, neither one of us are going to be doing a whole lot of relaxing”  he’d pause and nervously laugh “I think I’ll probably end up with a few more grey hairs by the end of this but I still want to do everything I can now to help make this easier for you. I remember how tired you were when our Princesita was born, I felt...so bad that I couldn’t help you. I guess that’s kind of why I’m over doing it now...” 

The man could admit it. He was going a bit too far trying to take everything on by himself. Parenthood was a journey the two of you embarked on together. There was a lot of give and take, and lately he’d been doing all the taking. He was tired, and his body felt that. He’d throw his body next to yours on the bed, eyes closing as he took a deep relaxing breath in through his nose a yawn passing his lips. He guessed it wouldn’t cause too much harm if you were to trade places with him. 

Bruno: “Think you’re up to the challenge of playing dress up? We had a whole Gala planned out for the cast of El joven y el inquieto. Mirabel even spent all day stitching little costumes for the rats...They look cute. I’d love to go but I think I’m beat. Papa needs a nap.”

Your heart would soar. This man really did go the extra mile when it came to making his little girl smile. You’d give his nose a gentle smooch, before covering him up with the blankets. He doesn’t even wait for your response, the instant you tuck him in he’s out, light little snores passing his lips.

To no surprise, just as expected, once the new baby is born sleep becomes a myth to both you and Bruno. 

Your husband looks like night of the walking dead and you definitely FEEL like the walking dead. 

So much for the confidence he had about taking on two babies at once. 

Y/N: “Aren’t you glad we only have two?” you’d tease earning a very stern tired look from your husband. 

Bruno: “If it’s okay with you mi vida, I think two kids is enough for me. Thank you very much.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh you fumbled from your mouth as your fingers ruffled through his curls, a baby attached to your chest as you laid together in the bed. 

You could agree. Two babies were the perfect amount for you and your husband. Besides, it was apparent your little girl didn’t enjoy having to share her Papa’s attention with another sibling. 

It would lead to a struggle for Bruno. He’d have quiet the challenge ahead of him when it came to balancing attention equally between both babies. He’d watch how effortless you’d make things look, but the instant he tried things out for himself, suddenly it didn’t feel as easy as you made everything appear. 

He’d ask for your help on the situation, though you wouldn’t quite know how else to describe it other than “it’s just a natural thing.” 

He considered asking another mother for some extra tips, but he felt it would be redundant. While he could ask his mother or sisters how they managed to split their attention between multiple kids, he felt the answer would be virtually the same as yours. He needed a dad’s perspective on the situation. 

Bruno: “Agustin, hey! Uh, I don’t mean to bother you but- I was wondering if I could ask you a question or two?.....or a dozen maybe.”

The dad of three would be more than eager to lend some fatherly advice Bruno’s way. Being completely honest, Bruno always admired his sister’s husband. Even when faced with the scariest woman in the world, his mother, Agustin always stuck his ground when it came to doing what was best for his family. Bruno hoped that if the time ever came he’d be able to do the same. He admired both of his brother-in-laws if he was being frank. Both men set fine examples of what a good father was for your clueless husband. 

A mile a minute. That’s how fast Bruno rambles on through his questions. A mile a god damn minute. 

Bruno: “How did you get used to the whole juggling babies thing. Not like holding them and moving them around and stuff, that’s pretty easy, I can hold them both at once and everything, I mean attention wise. How did you learn to split your attention between the girls? I asked Y/N but uh, she told me it was just something that came naturally for her. I guess I kinda wanted to know if it was a natural thing for you too? Is there something I’m missing here? What if I don’t have this natural nurturing- thing I’m suppose to have.”

Agustin definitely gets a good laugh out of it. Admittedly, he always enjoys one on one talks with Bruno. The mans unintentionally a riot.  Agustin would clamp a palm to the back of Bruno’s shoulder, a hand extending in front of them as the more experienced father poured his knowledge out for the other. 

Agustin: “If I’m being honest with you, it’s not something I can tell you. It’s something you have to learn to gage for yourself. Just let the love you have for both of your children guide you.” 

WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSE TO DO WITH THAT INFORMATION. IF HE COULD DO THAT, HE WOULD! BUT HE COULDN’T SO HERE HE WAS, ASKING FOR HELP. 

Bruno would groan earning a hardy laugh from Agustin. 

Agustin: “This is all new to you Bruno, nobody said you have to be perfect on your first try. You’ve got this Cuñado. It took me a while to figure out how to spread myself without spreading too thin. It’s not an exact science I can give you, I’m sorry for that, but what I CAN give you is the encouragement you need to keep at it, and if you ever need, an ear to chatter into.” 

Bruno would feel a bit more relaxed, giving his brother-in-law a thankful glance before scampering off. 

Eventually, he’d find his rhythm for taking care of both of his babies with an equal amount of love. He’d set times in his day where he’d spend time solely with his daughter, making sure she knew that he still loved and cared for her just as much as he did when she was an only sibling. He’d also take time to dedicate to your son, making sure to give the growing boy equal time even if he didn’t fully understand what was going on. 

It amazed you to see just how much effort your husband placed in caring for your children. He was an amazing father and an amazing husband. You couldn’t wait to see him grow as both of your babies grew. You both went into this blindly, but together the love you had for each other and this family would guide you along. It was a journey you were proud to be on. 

[aemonds-sapphire]

Take a Seat — Hawks x Reader

You tell Hawks you can’t stand him; he tells you to take a seat.

Warnings: NSFW. Face riding. Oral sex. Feather play. Masturbation. Exhibitionism.

Word count: 1.7k

“Hawks!”

Your screech reverberated through the walls of his bedroom.

The pro hero reckoned it wouldn’t take much longer before your angry voice was heard yet again.

“KEIGO!”

There it was.

A wave of satisfaction ran along his entire body and all the way through to his wings, ruffling the feathers in the process.

“I am going to kill you!” you bellowed in frustration from inside the bathroom. “I am going to be late!”

Hawks dreaded having to part ways with you on his day off. He rarely managed to get enough free time as it was, and now he’d have to watch you go to work, postponing his need to shower you with attention and love.

But Hawks’ playful antics always found a way to surface whenever the occasion called for it.

So he decided to steal your clothes and bath towel while you were taking a hurried shower.

It proved to be enough to kindle your anger and frustration, which would only work in his favor in the end.

As soon as your burst into the bedroom, dripping wet and ready to pounce him, Hawks felt a rush of blood flooding downwards with a subtle tingling sensation.

“What did you do with my clothes?” you growled, taking large steps in his direction. “I’m gonna be late for work!”

Hawks shrugged, thankful that his every growing erection was neatly hidden away from you under the bed cover.

He watched in sheer delight as you grabbed one pillow and tossed it at him, which he promptly deflected with one of his feathers.

“You are so annoying!” you sighed in exasperation.

A teasing smile curled his lips. Getting under your skin was one of his favorite pastimes. It got you all riled up with this pent-up tension that he’d so gladly fuck out of you.

But then something else crossed his mind.

Oh… you were going to flip at this.

But he was feeling particularly daring and willing to push you a little more than usual.

“I’m feeling feverish….” he started, making use of his top-level actor skills to twist his features into a pout. “And there’s this pain….”

And just like clockwork, the visible traces of anger on your face faded into a worried look.

You sat naked on his edge of the bed, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

“Where does it hurt?”

Hawks lifted the comforter, revealing his hard cock to you. “Here.”

Just as he had anticipated, you immediately scowled at how shameless he was.

“I was seriously worried! You damn bird!”

And just as you stood up and were about to smack him, he took the opportunity to grab both your wrists and had you swing on top of him at lightning speed until you were sitting on his bare torso.

You tried to jerk free from his grasp. “Hawks! I’m gonna be late!”

He honestly couldn’t care less. Having you fully naked and on top of him only fueled his desire for you.

“I’ll fly you there,” he said with a devious smile as he ruffled his wings along the mattress like a haughty peacock. “C’mon…”

Once again, you yanked both arms in an attempt to break free, but all in vain. He was far too strong, and he justwasn’t going to let go of you just yet.

“Ugh! I can’t stand you!” you huffed in annoyance.

What a blatant lie.

All that forced outrage had his cock twitch in anticipation. How he adored fucking you into submission, peeling off all those layers that you so vehemently insisted on keeping on just to give him a hard time.

He loved your brattiness.

“Sit on my face.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

Hawks wanted to let go of his hold on you have his hands cup your breasts, but he remained still just in case.

“Let me eat you out,” he insisted, rubbing his thumbs along the pulse points in your wrists.

You faltered briefly when you clenched your thighs around him.

“You’re so…”

“Charming.”

You shook your head. “No.”

Hawks let go of you, knowing fully well he had you trapped.

“Handsome?”

“Annoying!”

He flashed his trademark grin. “Annoyingly handsome? I know!”

With one hand, he smacked your ass lightly, but you didn’t budge.

“I just took a shower… and I don’t want to be late for work…”

Hawks was a patient man, but not this patient. “Then stop wasting time and ride my face.”

You hesitated at first, but caved in eventually. He slid down his pillow so that he could be the perfect seat for your pussy. Carefully, you lifted yourself from him before finally settling directly above his face.

He nodded eagerly, nearly letting out a groan at the mouthwatering sight of your pussy in close proximity with his hungry mouth.

A sigh if relieved rumbled across his chest the moment you were fully sitting on him, and he instinctively brought both hands to grip your thighs. The delicious moan that escaped your lips was incentive enough for him, and without much effort he parted his lips and delved his tongue deep inside your warm pussy.

“Oh…”

You were so fucking adorable. Still surprised that he could deliver all that pleasure with just a few stroked of his skillful muscle? After all this time of having you all to himself?

Your folds encased the corners of his mouth, as if trying to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

And he didn’t plan to.

In fact, he planned on spicing things up.

He knew far too well that this, however, would prove to be not only insanely pleasurable for you but also for him.

A single crimson feather went up in the air and settled right between your legs.

An intense shiver ran down his spine as he was able to capture the pulse from your throbbing clit.

See, Hawks’ feathers came in extremely handy in these situations, because it granted him the ability to sense vibrations around them. So, your puffy clit’s thudding was immediately felt along his entire body. All the way to his cock, causing his hips to shoot up reflexively.

“K-Keigo! Not… not the—“

Your words faded and morphed into a pleasurable moan as soon as the tiny feather began drawing small circles along your clit.

Hawks was still able to watch you gripping the headboard for support, before shutting his eyes as overwhelming bliss filled him. His cock throbbed with each heartbeart, the skin at the base pulling as he hardened even more.

He kept tongue-fucking you, drinking in your juices and your moans. Your wetness was now spreading across his chin, and he brought one of his hands to free his cock from the heavy fabric of the comforter, allowing it to spring free. The dire need to fuck you was ever-growing, but he wanted you to cum on his face this time.

His feather was kept tightly pressed against you, and such stimulation caused your hips to buck and jerk, forcing his other hand to increase his grip on you to keep you in place.

“Oh… oh… fuck—fuck—fuck!”

Hawks had had years to perfect his quirk and he was fully able to bend his feathers to his will using nothing but his mind to control them.

You were done for.

And so was he.

He wrapped his fingers around his leaking cock, yearning for nothing more than relief. It was becoming unbearable to feel your heartbeat invade his mind and travel down his body in rhythmic waves of pleasure.

A high-pitched moan fell from your lips. “Keigo! Please… it’s… it’s…” too much. Yes, it was.

The obscene slurping sounds coming from him were enough to have his hips jerk once again as he fucked his hand desperately.

He was too damn close.

He was fully aware that using one of his feathers drastically hindered his endurance. There was only so much he could withstand while having a hot girl riding his face.

Soon enough, he felt your thighs begin to quiver and he had the feather lap at your clit more avidly while keeping his tongue sliding in and out of your soaked pussy.

With a few more jerks from your hips, you were catapulted into your orgasm, spasming violently into his face while raking your fingers through his hair before gripping a few strands forcefully.

“Good… good boy!” you groaned in ecstasy as a gush of your wetness flooded his tongue.

Not long after, he felt your legs spasm uncontrollably. And he didn’t just feel this because they were tightening around his head; he felt your every contraction and twitch thanks to his feather still lodged between your swollen folds.

And that was what immediately pushed him over the edge. The overwhelming pleasure took over him completely, and he reached the point of no return. Hot spurts of cum shot from his tip with each spasm of his own body; the muscles in his thighs and lower abdomen tightened along with his balls. His wings stretched on either side of him and he felt a stack of feathers shoot out in both directions and carving themselves into the furniture and walls.

A few strands of hot liquid coat his fingers, but he didn’t care. His own heartbeat pounded insanely loud inside his ears and he stopped breathing for a moment as a gutural growl ripped through his throat.

You slid off to the side, allowing his animalistic groans to echo around the both of you.

Hawks took pride in having enviable stamina, but a powerful orgasm was still enough to have him panting and feeling lightheaded. Your juices were spread across his chin and lips and jaw as a few drops ran down his neck.

“I still hate you…” you struggled to say in between pants.

He licked the excess liquid from his lips, locking eyes with your hazy ones. “Want me to give you another orgasm?”

“I’m gonna be late!” you protested, sliding out of bed and nearly tripping as your legs wobbled from having your leg muscles strained.

Hawks couldn’t help but to laugh as your struggled to keep your balance.

“C’mon. I’ll fly you there. I doubt you’ll be able to walk, anyways.”

He was thankful to his fast reflexes as a feather prevented yet another pillow from reaching his face.

-

Masterlist

-

@dabiboy (since you wanted to be tagged 🥺)

[angryschnauzer]

He’s A Keeper

Summary: Working as an artist hired by Durrell Zoo, you spend your days sketching the day to day life of the animals and the keepers. One keeper in particular catches your eye.

Pairing: AU Zookeeper Henry Cavill x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)

Fandom: Henry Cavill

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Safe Sex/Use of Condoms, Realistic Sex/Relationship discussion, Vaginal Sex.

Typo’s are allowed to run wild and free, only the finest organic free range fuck ups for me.

I do not operate a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit ‘notifications’, you’ll get an alert every time i post something new. Back catalogue/masterlist can be found there and also on AO3

He’s A Keeper

Working the pencils over the sketchpad you quietly captured the beauty of the animals the zookeepers had nursed back to full health, the Ruffed Lemur currently hanging off the keepers arm as he spoke through the headset to the group of excited school children watching through the glass. 

You’d been hired by the zoo to capture day to day life at the zoo throughout the summer season, drawing the animals and the humans, however there was one particular human you had found yourself drawn to numerous times, and that was the rather tasty zookeeper by the name of Henry. He also had one of the sexiest voices you’d ever had the pleasure to listen to, so as he explained about the Lemur’s your mind wandered, as did your gaze;

“... originally from Madagascar, and have been part of Durrell zoo since 1982 where they have been essential to the breeding program…”

Your mind fell even further into the gutter at the word ‘breeding’, your eyes raking down Henry’s body, taking in how the branded t-shirt clung to his chest before tapering down to a narrow waist where it was neatly tucked into cargo pants that did little to hide how thick his thighs were and a pert arse you could bounce a satsuma off of. Biting the end of the pencil you had all but given up drawing, only realising that the talk was over when the group of school children were being herded onto the next exhibit by their tour guide and teachers.

When the kids had disappeared you finally got back to drawing, watching as Henry finished up feeding the Lemur’s before he met your gaze and smiled at you. Tapping your pencil on the glass he frowned and shook his head, before smiling and pointing to the sign in the corner of the window that said ‘do not tap the glass’, getting closer you tried to mouth your words to him, but was surprised when his eyes went wide in almost shock, before looking down and realising you had pressed your chest to the glass, your low cut cami top helping to accentuate your cleavage. When you looked up again he was gone and you let out a sigh of disappointment, before he appeared through a door to the side of the viewing area;

“Hi” he had a smile that could charm the panties off a nun; “Did you want me?”

“God yes…” Oh fuck, did you say that out loud?; “Sorry, i mean, you’ve dropped the foam bit off your headset...”

He glanced into the enclosure just at the moment one of the larger Lemur’s picked up the small round piece of foam and staring straight at Henry, proceeded to rip it into tiny pieces.

“Furry little fucker…” he cursed under his breath before turning back to you, but before he could say anything a group of other keepers came walking in and soon you were hanging onto the periphery of their conversation where they were discussing going for drinks after work. Moving to pack your stuff up as you presumed they weren’t including you, but a call of your nickname drew your attention;

“Hey Da Vinci, you up for a few beers after work?”

You hesitated to answer, glancing at Henry who had a smile across his face and a hopeful look in his eye;

“We’re all going…”

“Ok, yeah sure, that’d be great” you agreed. 

-

An hour later you were sitting on the wall outside the main entrance waiting for the rest of the keepers to finish their shifts, smiling as you saw them coming out of the doors, and the ensuing 10 minutes that followed as people sorted out who was driving and how many people could fit into just a couple of small cars. As spaces were allocated Henry laughed and shook his head;

“I am NOT riding five up in a Renault Clio, i’m too tall, i’ll have to fold myself in half! Where are we going anyway, i can take my bike and just walk home after”

Waiting as everyone discussed location and finished off seat allocation, they’d finally decided when Henry turned to you;

“Hey, i think the last seats are in the stoner wagon…”

“Oh…” you didn’t have anything against anyone smoking pot, but didn’t fancy being in a car you could barely see out of the windows of.

“But you can ride with me on my bike?”

Looking to where Henry was pointing, you saw a fairly large trails bike, the kind that could go 50mph over rough land and through forests;

“I… I don’t have a helmet…”

“Wait here, let me run into the locker room and grab the spare i keep here”

Everyone else pulled away as Henry ran into the zoo, and you glanced at the bike. You’d never been on a motorbike before, so this would be a first. Stowing everything loose in your backpack, you hooked it over both shoulders just as Henry reemerged from the building, swinging his keys from one finger as he came to stand in front of you;

“Hey, thanks for waiting”

“No worries! So, where are we going again?”

“The pub in Rozel does good food and pulls a great pint” he nodded to his left and you saw a row of motorbikes; “You ever ridden?”

Shaking your head you laughed; “No, never”

He carefully helped you put the helmet on, his nimble fingers helping to secure the strap beneath your chin before putting his own on and climbing onto the bike, pushing it off the kick stand and nodding for you to climb on. You tried to sit back, but he wrapped his arm behind his back and pulled you flush to his body;

“Gotta hold on tight, otherwise you’ll throw the balance off. Lean when i lean and just squeeze a bit harder if you’re scared, the ride won’t take long” he shouted over the thrum of the noisy engine idling.

The ride down to the small village of Rozel had been exhilarating, from the vibration of the motorbike between your legs to the way you were able to wrap your arms around Henry’s waist and cling to him as he hurtled around the country roads at what seemed like warp speed, when in fact it was little more than 30mph. By the time you arrived in the small fishing cove your heart was racing and you actually let out a reluctant moan at the thought of removing your arms from around Henry’s waist.

“C’mon” he grinned as he helped you off the bike; “I’ll buy you a vodka and coke to calm your nerves”

“It wasn’t nerves” you muttered to yourself, smirking as you know he heard you.

-

The group had managed to find a cluster of small tables chairs and benches in the corner of the pub beer garden, and as the sun had set behind the hills to the rear of the pub, the cold Atlantic sea had glowed in pale blues and pinks. You were squashed into a bench with Henry on one side and another enormous hulk of a keeper on the other, and as the temperature had dropped you’d found yourself thankful that Henry had casually rested his arm behind you so you could leech some of his warmth, but it didn’t stop a violent shiver involuntarily running up your spine.

“Cold?” Henry asked quietly, before gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close; “Any better?”

You nodded and let out a very quiet whine as you smiled at him, completely surrounded by his scent and warmth. It made your stomach do a flip and you clenched your thighs together, something that didn’t get past Henry as your leg twitched against his thigh. Before either of you could say anything an enormous bowl of cheesy fries was set down between you, your stomach growling at the aroma’s that wafted around you as it turned out someone had ordered sharing bowls for the whole table.

With the meal mostly devoured as you’d sat side by side on a small wooden bench in the pub garden, laughing as you fed each other and strings of cheese hung from your fingers. As the giggles of a joke faded away you glanced at Henry’s almost finished pint;

“Hey, you aren’t planning on riding that bike home are you?”

“Nah, i’d never drive after a pint, let alone three… my place is just behind The Navigator restaurant…” he paused; “Oh god, where are you staying, do i need to call you a taxi?”

“No no, i’m renting a studio up the hill, on the hairpin bend”

“Oh…” 

It wasn’t a bad ‘oh’ and there was definitely something loaded in the subtext, so when people had started to leave and arrange ride’s back to St Helier and St Johns it felt natural for Henry to stand with his arm around your shoulders as you both waved everyone off.

“Can i walk you home?” he asked, his voice low and full of promise, and you nodded as he slid his hand into yours, leading you along the low coast road that skirted the harbour.

-

You hadn’t gotten far before the evening turned even better, a brief suggestion of a walk along the beach as the tide was out soon had your feet in soft sand as you were pressed to the weathered stone of the sea wall, Henry’s lips on your neck as your fingers dug into his back, his teeth nipping and biting at whatever exposed flesh he could find. You hadn’t even realised he was going lower until he was on his knees in front of you, those sea blue irises staring up at you as he pressed kisses to your legs where your shorts ended. His fingers softly rested on the button and he finally spoke, his voice low and thick with lust;

“May i?”

Nodding fervently you bit your lip as you watched him slowly unbutton you, pulling the garment down your legs until you were able to step out. Never breaking eye contact he lifted your leg and gently rested it on his shoulder, pressing open mouthed kisses up your inner thigh until his face was pressed against your panties and his wide tongue worked against the soaked cotton and lace. His finger crooked beneath them and tugged the scrap of fabric to the side, seeking out your clit before tracing down to your cunt and tenderly teasing the entrance.

“Henry… please…” you whined, desperate for more

“Don’t you worry, i’m gonna make you see stars…”

Pushing his head forwards his lips caught your clit as he slowly slid two fingers into your soaked channel. You let out a long groan at the feel of his lips and fingers finding the right spot immediately, his other hand cupping the back of your thigh before he ran it around your hip and caught your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he quickly drove you closer and closer to the edge with that added touch of intimacy. Suddenly he hummed against your clit and the world exploded, making you cum so hard you truly did see stars as a white heat bloomed in your belly and you rode Henry’s fingers until you were spent.

As you rested against the wall behind you he carefully withdrew his fingers, licking them clean as he tugged your shorts up your legs. You couldn’t help but to notice the obscene bulge in the front of his cargo pants, your hand rubbing over the smooth curve of it;

“You keep doing that and i’ll cum in my boxers… “ he panted out, his lips inches from yours; “What’s your room like?”

“Its a little summer cabin studio right at the end of the garden, away from the other holiday rentals and the main house… what about you…”

“Shared flat with two other guys from the zoo. They’re probably drinking in the lounge right now… so, your place?”

-

Unlocking the door you stepped inside and turned on a small lamp, standing aside so Henry could come into your small summer living space.

“Mmm nice” he nodded and looked around; “Wanna give me the tour?”

You snorted out a laugh at the formality, and held your arm out;

“Well this is the kitchen area, right next door we have the smallest shower room in Jersey, and here’s the bed” you didn’t need to take a single step for the ‘tour’, the room seeming even smaller as Henry took a single stride and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you flush with his chest. Never breaking eye contact he gently trailed a single finger over your cheek, his thumb brushing your plump bottom lip;

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your legs almost buckled at the deep baritone of his voice, igniting something within you that you hadn’t even known existed, eagerly nodding;

“Yes Sir”

Lowering his lips to yours he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips as he took control, walking the pair of you back until your legs hit the bed and you fell back onto the soft unmade covers. Covering your body with his, he quickly stripped you of your clothing, his mouth trailing behind his hands so every inch of you was gifted with a kiss. 

Standing between your legs he pulled his t-shirt over his head and you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of his body; toned and just the right amount of hair on his chest and a treasure trail on his abdomen that surely led to untold riches. Quickly sitting up your hands joined his on his button to his cargo pants;

“May i?”

Henry released his hands and nodded, watching as you carefully plucked the button before lowering the zipper painfully slowly, his boxers tented obscenely and you couldn’t help but to cup him in your palm, the searing heat of his engorged cock a welcome feel in your hands, the wide mushroom head clearly visible through the stretched fabric. Unceremoniously tugging the rest of his clothing down, you felt yourself getting wetter as his beautiful cock was finally revealed; big, thick and uncut, you had to taste him and quickly ducked your head forwards, swallowing his head between your lips as his hands flew to your hair to steady himself.

Now it was your turn to drive him crazy with your mouth, taking him as deep as you could even though it was barely half of his length, you wrapped both hands around what was left, the thick root of his shaft filling both palms. A few more pumps and he pulled his hips back with a gasp, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his bulbous tip;

“If you keep doing that i’m gonna cum far too soon…” he said, his voice shaking; “Lay back and let me treat you right…”

Scooting up the bed you settled against the pillows as you watched Henry shed himself of the rest of his clothing, his boots and socks hooked off, cargo pants and underwear all left in a messy pile at the side of the bed, before he crawled up the mattress like a Panther stalking its prey.

Capturing your lips for another searing kiss, you felt his hot shaft against your belly, burning against your skin and you so desperately wanted to feel him inside you. Pulling away just slightly you were already breathless;

“Just a second…” reaching for the small drawer at side of the bed you pulled out an unopened box of condoms, Henry sitting back on his knees as you ripped the box’s cellophane open with your teeth and pulled out a small foil packet, tearing it open before smoothing the latex over Henry’s shaft. Looking up to his face he wore a rather sheepish smile;

“Sorry, shoulda’ thought of that”

“S’ok, a girl’s gotta keep sharp these days…”

“Right…” he met your gaze; “But you know, if you had gotten pregnant, i would have stood by you”

“Umm thanks? But its for STD’s. I’m on the pill”

“Oh… good thinking…”

A tense pause hung over the pair of you, before you reached up and rested your hand on his chest;

“Shall we continue?”

At your words the tension in the room suddenly dissipated, Henry kissing you as he slid a hand between your bodies so he could position himself at your entrance, groaning as he pushed in slowly breaching your body. Your tight channel hugged him tight, unfamiliar with such a size splitting your walls so he paused, pressing light kisses to your face as your body grew accustomed with his size and the heavy weight of his dick in your pillowy soft embrace. Finally you moaned out his name;

“Henry… please…”

“What do you need?”

“Move… please move. Fuck me, please”

Pushing up on his forearms he started to fluidly move his hips, slow and steady, each thrust was gentle but firm, your body yielding to him as he started to increase the pace, the sound of hot bodies meeting filling the small wooden cabin as the gentle sounds of the sea not far away filled the rest of the night. Soft moans spilled from your lips at the feel of his body playing yours like a delicate instrument, waiting for the chorus and the inevitable crescendo. But he was going to play the entire symphony first, knowing how to get you to sing the high notes as the thrum of your bodies were in tune with each other completely.

With the stretch of his girth and the way the curve of it meant he was able to find your g-spot with every thrust you were fast approaching your orgasm, your body trembling as your lips found a life of their own;

“Henry… please, so good… keep doing that… oh god, i’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, my good girl, cum on my cock, let me feel you squeezing me so tight… feel so amazing right now… that’s it, you can do it…”

With a cry you came, your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled him deep whilst your body shook with a fierce orgasm, triggering his own as he pumped a heavy load into the condom.

Finally spent, Henry settled on top of you, his weight a heavy comfort as your sweaty bodies lay skin to skin, the gentle roughness of his chest hair against your naked breasts a tender reminder of his virility. When he started to soften he finally shifted, holding the condom at the base as he pulled out and staggered the few steps to your small bathroom;

“I’ll be back in a second, gotta sort this out…”

The door closed and you shifted on the bed, pulling the duvet back and sliding between the sheets, listening as you heard the tell tale sound of a man urinating and the high pitched, double barrelled squeak of a fart. The flush of the toilet and water running soon after meant you knew the second he would reappear, a flannel in his hand and he stopped dead, his cheeks suddenly bright crimson;

“You heard that didn’t you?”

“It's a small wooden cabin… yes i did”

“Sorry” he approached the bed and with a warm flannel he carefully cleaned between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your lips as he did. When finished he sat on the side of the bed; “Can i stay the night, or did you want me to go?”

“Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope. Please, stay”

He quickly threw the flannel into the sink in the bathroom, before with a giggle climbed under the duvet and pulled you into his arms;

“So, how many more condom’s you got?”

-

The morning light broke softly through the trees that surrounded your cabin, your body sore but sated, knowing every bruise and ache came from soft lips, sharp teeth, or skilled fingers, apart from that one ache deep inside that you knew exactly what had caused that delicious soreness, and the owner and cause of all of it still softly slept in your bed. Climbing out you quickly used the bathroom, and as you came back into the room the artist in you couldn’t help but to admire how the dappled morning light cascaded over Henry’s body. Slipping his work t-shirt over your head you pulled your sketchbook from your backpack and settled onto the only chair in the room, quietly working carbon to paper.

Henry woke 45 minutes later, the gentle scratching of your art making him squint at the bright daylight, before laying back on the pillows with his arms spread;

“Still life class?”

Setting your sketchbook down you padded across the room and climbed onto the bed;

“Sorry, i couldn’t help myself… the way the sun was hitting the muscles of your back and shoulders, you were like an anatomy masterpiece”

With a laugh and moving much quicker than you thought he was possible of, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you, his body atop of yours;

“Well that’s enough of that, i would like to become better acquainted with your anatomy… and as we’ve both got the day off i suggest we make the most of it”

Laughing you fell into his embrace, sighing with happiness. Henry really was a keeper, as you were for sure not going to let him go. 

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi love, I adore your writing so much! And as you just asked for some ideas/concepts here’s mine for Jack Grealish from prompts list 2: fluff #11 where he’s asking her (she’s his best friend) to go for a walk cause there’s so much going on in his life and he just needs to talk. fluff #36, angst #31 and a happy ending please? Basically a Best friends to lovers thing as I’m a sap for that…thank you!! xx

Fluff #11; “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…”

Fluff #36; “because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

hope I did this justice for you!

Fell for you

“Jesus god,” you grumbled with hands aimlessly palming across the mattress for the blaring sound of your phone from its place charging somewhere on the bed. Your next move is an elongated “Ahhhhh,” sound, fatigue still holding tightly onto your body in a way that seals your eyes shut even as you try to shut off the sound your phone was deafening your with. In a wakened state, you might’ve noticed that it was your ringtone that had interrupted your sleep. However as tired as you were you ruled it as your alarm right away and moved yourself into seated position with the duvet still wrapped tight around you and your eyes still shut.

You were suspended in that space between being asleep and being awake, still sitting up when the offensive sound came screaming through your phone once again.

This time, your eyes snapped open in fright and the fatigue-blurred letters of Jack Grealish’s name popped up across the top of your screen.

“How is it morning already?” You protest down the line, a heavy sigh passing your lips to follow. Jack’s chuckle can be heard through the line, “It’s not.” He replies simply, prompting you to pull your phone away from your ear to hold out in front if your face.

02:17am

“Then why on earth am I up?” You mumble, a question more posed to yourself than the man on the other end. “Wait, why are you up? And why are you calling so early?”

“I’m outside your door.”

“You’re what?!” You throw back your duvet and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You’ve hung up the phone already by the time you reach the front door at a tired shuffle. His hair is tousled when you see him, like he’s been running his hands through it over and over, you imagine that he has. He does that when he’s stressed. You have to squint against the street lights and his car headlights outside, still on as it sits running on the street. “Can we go somewhere?” He asks, his voice as desperate as his eyes look when he speaks, begging you to agree. Not that he would need to beg. You’d do anything for that man. Even if it did mean dragging yourself from your bed at 2 in the morning.

“Course.”

No question, no pressure. He loves that from you. He knows you’ll ask him later and when the time is right you’ll force him to tell you of course. Now is not that time yet and you’re nowhere near awake enough to do so much anyway. “Let me just grab my-“

“I have a hoodie in the car and your shoes in my boot.” He cuts in, tugging your arm gently out the door of your house. He knows you better than any other person in this world, so he knows full and well that there’s not much you are going to do in the way of protesting when you’re so soon out of sleep. He’d often teased with layers of worry deeper beneath that he genuinely worried for you living on your own. You open the door to people far too easily, and he will not fail to bring that up sometime tomorrow. For now, he steps into your doorway where you had stood moments before, grabs your keys from the cabinet and pulls the door closed behind him with a click of the latch locking behind him.

The cold paving stones beneath your feet make you shine in protest, shifting your weight between each one to ease the chill. In was in that cold that you look down and make the realisation, or rather come to remember the fact that you don’t have any pyjama bottoms on. “Jack!” You yelp, “I’m not wearing trousers!” You suddenly feel very exposed and rightly so, standing outside your home suddenly very awake in only a long claret and blue shirt that only extended down to the middle of your thighs. “Eh?” He whips around, “You what?”

It’s only now he really takes you in with rosy cheeks from embarrassment, your hair messed up from your sleep. His frantic eyes soften and his heart stops thundering in his chest finally. The sight of you there calms him. You’re there. Right there. His (y/n) is right there in front of him.

“What’s the rush, Jack? Is everything okay?”

Your gentle words and tired eyes bring him back to the ground, the flurry of his racing thoughts only now finally calmed. He often acts on impulse, but you are always able to slow his brain down a few paces. His sits heavily, "I know it's two am but...do you think we could go somewhere. My heads fuckin'... I don't even know." He dips back down to run that hand through his hair once again. His words stoke a bit of a worry in you, head tilted to the side in question. Jack doesn't tend to be the kind who gets himself panicked and all wound up like he has right now. That's more your half of the friendship. You did the worrying, he did the easygoing.

"It's okay, Jack. Of course. Come on then, let's go." You nod your head and he goes around the back of the car to get the shoes and socks he promised you. You very nearly choked up a lung when he presented you with a brand new Balenciaga box. "What the fuck, Jack?" You all but wheeze out, head whipping towards him climbing into the passenger seat.

"Got you a present 'cause I'm leaving soon." He shrugs with a jaw-dropping ease. You list open the lid and inside sit a pair of sliders that cost nearly £400. You physically gawp. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jack asks, drawing out of his parking spot on the street, "Heard you telling your mum you needed new sliders for the summer, do you not like 'em?"

His nerves would be clear in his voice if you hadn't been in such a ferocious level of shock. You're glad you weren't eating anything because it surely would have choked you to death. Of course you had seen Jack wearing brands like Balenciaga, Gucci, Versace and the likes, but you had never owned such an expensive piece of clothing. "I mean of course I love them, J but I meant from Primark or bloody amazon, you shouldn't have spent al that money on me." You protested, but Jack really pays it no mind. In fact, the suggestion that you don't deserve everything luxurious that this world has to offer offends him more than it does anything else. You should know that you deserve everything good that this world can give and he has the means to actually give that to you. He'd count himself an absolute fool not to.

"Gonna pretend you didn't say that." He mutters, eyes kept carefully on the empty road ahead of his car. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a part of you brain still very much trying to a) wake up and b) process the expensive of the gift he handed to you so casually. "Not arguing about it either." His voice cuts you off the second you open your mouth to speak, shutting down your protest before it even leaves you.

As the fatigue of your sleep wears off, your mind continues to be just as boggled as it had been the moment his name popped up on your screen at 2am, if not more boggled now.

"You're acting so weird, Jack. What the hell is going on with you today?" Your insistence is careful with your pressure. It's enough to try to open him up but not enough to make it sound like a confrontation. Neither you nor Jack like confrontation especially with each other. The words make him chew on his lip as he careens the large white range rover through a turn that leads up a gravel road that crunches beneath his tires. The stops when he's met with a with a large gate that prevents cars but a little slot for people to walk through. Jack leaves his door open when he leaves the car with a curtly mumbled "Stay here" as he does. He pushes open the gate with ease before he gets back in the car and follows the path up the hill further.

He stop abruptly in a very small gravel car park without any parking lines to abide and steps out, slamming his door behind him like he absolutely always does; you swear that man couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it. Which was another reason why you were so surprised by his silence. You clamber out after him with that same fear of falling flat on your face that always fills your mind each and every time you leave his car. But Jack is where he has been every time you step out the Range Rover since the first day he got it; standing by your door to hold your hand so you can jump out without a trip onto the gravel beneath. He shuts the door behind you and hands you a spare pair of his loose fitting track pants.

On an average day you might've teased the reason he hasn't worn them was because they wouldn't have squeezed the life out his legs. Today wasn't one of those days, so you slip them on without a word. Followed up by his way too big for you socks and the brand new black slides. Even wide awake, this confuses you to no end. Jack was never quiet and never elusive. He was boisterous, loud, open and confident.

The second you turn around, you realise why he brought you here.

The view of the stars, the sky completely clear. There wasn't a street lamp in sight. The moon provided the kind of spotlight hue that you kind of thought only existed in the enhancement of Hollywood movies. "Woah," you breathe, words stolen by its beauty.

"Yeah," Jack laughs, "Now you know how I feel every time I look at you."

You head turns to him so fast it sends your head spinning a little, or maybe that's just the shock of his words. You couldn't tell.

"What?"

He shrugs his shoulders, scuffing his feet along the gravel to meet up with where you stand. But he freezes before he gets the chance.

"Why are you wearing that?" He asks, a very sudden cold change in his tone that actually makes your body feel colder. "Wearing what? This?" You gesture to the claret and blue shirt you had thrown on in a haste to get to him standing at your front door a short while ago. You turn to see his unhappy scowl and the firm discontented cross of his strong arms. "Yeah that," he grumbles, "And where'd you even get it." He adds with a flare of his nostrils. He looks adorable angry like this, like he's trying so hard to look angry when his emotions lie truly elsewhere.

You look down at the shirt with furrowed brows, before you shift your shoulder forward, crane your neck and pull the material around to view the back as best you could. "What's wrong with it?" You ask finally, attempts to defy the natural state of your body failing to allow you to see your back.

"It's Ginny's." Jack states as if its the most obvious thing in the world. You just look at him bewildered. "And?"

He huffs as he takes a few more heavy steps up to you, looking like he had a lot of things to say without any way of being able to get them to coordinate from his brain to his lips. "Why do you have Ginny's shirt though?"

You breathe a little bit of laughter at him, shaking your head softly. "it was just a joke. I saw him after a match waiting for you so I jumped out at him and pretended to be a fan for a video and he signed it and gave to me as a joke. I just threw it on when you showed up at my door in the middle of the night. Wasn't exactly a fashion statement."

Jack still grunts in dissatisfaction at your answer, refusing to meet your eyes. "You have plenty of mine to wear though, don't need his." His argues in a disgruntled grumble. You raise and drop your arms down by your side with a sigh. He was really testing your patience now. "Hm, last time I checked you couldn't give me yours anymore because your ex didn't like it." You protest with a wag of your finger, making him turn his head downwards with something like a shudder running through him at the mention of her name. "Yeah well there's a reason she's my ex innit." He mutters under his breath.

"What the hell is the problem with you today Jack?" You exclaim, his eyes jolting to you in surprise. You don't often snap.

"First you show up at my door in the middle of the night and drag me out of my house and then you won't actually speak to me and now you're picking a fight about John M fucking Ginn?" You snap, the anger and confusion he had stirred up showing in your emphatic hand gestures that only come out when you're telling him a passionate story or going off your head at him. "He's your best mate, why would that even bother you?!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not done, Jack!" You yell, holding out a hand. "You haven't even spoken to me all week. I found out you made the England call up on fucking twitter Jack, twitter! And your mum told me about you dumping your girl and I can't even get through to you and now you're buying me gifts and bringing me here? I don't know if I'm coming or going here Jack, you have to give me something. We're meant to be friends." You voice breaks on the last syllable and a lump forms in Jack's throat that he can't just swallow away. Any pain, any hurt and any slight sadness of emotion that appears in you shatters his heart. He thought that was a normal reaction until two weeks ago when he realised it only happens to him when its your upset he witnesses.

"I'm sorry." He says, his voice thick and wavering with the same level of emotion. "I really, really am." He stands right in front of you now, so close you're basically chest to chest, faces merely inches apart.

"And I'm scared." He admits, sending a pang through your already aching heart. "Scared because I'm leaving and I can't take you with me." His words tickle your lips as they leave his, clouds of air puffing above the two of you as his hot breath meets the cold night air. "You've done it before, J. It'll be fine." You soothe, hands gently raising to reach up and brush the hair out of his face. His let's forth a content sigh of relief at the feeling of your touch. "That was before though." He confesses with a slight shrug. He watches that furrow sow itself back into your brows.

"Before what?"

"Dance with me?" He suggests, his arms finding their way around you with ease, much less fumbley than you remember from your high school prom. Your head tilts in that adorable confused way that makes a grin form on his cold lips.

"Why?" You query, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. He laughs softly. "Because the music is slow and the sky is gorgeous and because I love you."

Before you get the chance to recognise, process or even understand what he said, he's swaying you around the gravel under the stars.

"Because you what?" You squeak, your eyes desperately searching his as you look for any reason this might be some kind of a joke or one of pranks that makes you want to throttle him. He just smiles at you with those crinkled eyes and the love shining right there in his eyes for you to see. Your stomach flutters like the teenager you were when you fell in love with him. His lips dip down to capture yours in the best kiss that your being has ever felt, his hands ringing your hair, stroking down over your cheeks with those warm hands of his.

"Because I've fell for you, isn't it obvious?"

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down. 

    “Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?” 

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place. 

    “Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

    “(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

    “How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side. 

    “I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

    “Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him. 

    “That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you. 

Jackass. 

    “Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you. 

    “Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

    “Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention. 

    “I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.” 

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

    “Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him. 

    “Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.”  The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously, 

    “Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear. 

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you. 

    “That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull, 

    “What Tommy?” 

    “Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable. 

     “T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head: 

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’ 

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword. 

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid. 

    “Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him. 

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

    “What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken. 

    “The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied. 

    “That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?” 

    “What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down. 

    “I’m single.” 

    “Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist. 

    “Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly. 

    “Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you, 

    “See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully. 

    “She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft” 

    “Not brothers and I don’t like him.” 

    “Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly. 

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug. 

    “(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms. 

    “Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.” 

    “Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?” 

    “I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.” 

    “WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!” 

    “Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay. 

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨

[chiwhorei]

gun bunny

pairing: mafia!s. aizawa x fem!reader

genre: mafia!au, quirkless!au, smut- 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.5k

warning: somnophilia, voyeurism, violence, attempted kidnapping, attempted assault, mentions of blood, mentions of guns and knives, degradation, age-gap (reader is 19 and aizawa is 31), spitting

a/n: hello! this is my contribution to the smut pile mafia!server collab, this is both my first smut pile collab (this is so late i am so sorry sksksksk) and my first full-length bnha piece, be sure to check out everyone else’s amazing work here! thank you to @10millionyearsdungeon and @messwriting for your constant support while i trudged through sad pal hours for a fucking month and crawled out of the pits of writer’s block

hymns: hayloft by - mother mother, i’m on fire - awolnation cover

Blood pours over decades like syrup, the tinny-sweet smell was distinct but all too familiar. A muffled gun’s buzzing frames 19 years of life. The barrel feels cool, sitting precariously by the highest angle of your cheekbone.

“I told you not to cause trouble, brat. Now I have to clean up your little mess.”

Aizawa’s body is tall and broad above you, holding you against him with a protective grip on the small of your back. Every word is sneering, punctuated with a growl-- you feel it reverberate against his chest.

The bullet is resounding even through the silencer; a deafening sound, final bell tolling next to smeared streaks of mascara.

Aizawa Shouta has always been around-- whether bringing your dad a hefty stack of reports to thumb through or loosening his tie in the parlor and toasting him to another job well done. A carousel of chauffeurs and bodyguards encircle you, but all are nameless faces except for the man that can make people disappear in an instant: Eraser.

Otsuka y/n, the only daughter of the most powerful man in Japan, is a weighty title against your shoulders. Your father’s reputation has cradled you for almost two decades, keeping you draped in fur and balancing on red-bottoms. He has more money, more power than God. To most of your father’s inner circle, you are the dutiful, angelic heiress to his blood-soaked empire. You play the part well enough, polite, temperate- your hands are painted red in culpability, but perfectly manicured.

Your father’s business isn’t a secret, no matter his attempts to shield you over the years. There’s only so many nights spent humming to the tune of cracking skulls in the next room before “investments in oil” starts to lose its validity. Whenever you ask him, he pats your head, smoothing stray strands of hair, “I do it all for you, bunny. Everything is for you.”

You decide not to think about rouge splatters of blood and bruises against his knuckles, ignoring the clicking of a loading gun before he leaves for the office.

It’s better this way.

“You can’t be serious, Otsuka.” Aizawa paces across the hardwood, heel to toe with Italian leather from one large bookshelf to the other. A familiar habit, you’ve seen the contemplative marching before and know it to mean one thing: Aizawa is pissed.

“Have you ever known me to joke around? Especially with y/n?” Your father’s elbows hit the table in front of him, the jagged scars lining his face seem even more intimidating when coupled with a harshly set frown. You perch on the side of his large desk, swinging your feet lightly.

“Oh daddy, I’m not a child. I don’t need Eraser to babysit me.” You huff, crossing your arms and providing a pout to your father’s hard expression. You hear the mumbled, “Don’t call me that,” from behind you, but decide against a response.

“He’s going to look after you while I’m in Musutafu. I have to handle some…” he trails off slightly, one of his hands coming up to rub against his bald head, “noncompliance, but I shouldn’t be gone for more than a few days.” His disfigured fingers curling around yours, you look up to meet his eye, “Be a good girl, bunny.”

You give your father’s temple a kiss, pulling back to smile sweetly. Your next words have Aizawa snorting, rolling his eyes far enough into his skull to be painful.

“I always am.”

A bend downwards at the hips frames your ass perfectly, the lace of your panties curls around your pussy tightly, hooking against the lips and showcasing your soft skin. Questions swirl in the bowl of cereal in front of him, all but forgotten as soon as a cup“fell” from your fingers and clattered to the floor. The taste, the smell, the feeling of--

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Aizawa is ripped from the reprehensible desires of his senses to meet your eyes, your form still folded over on itself and displayed for Aizawa in the otherwise empty kitchen. You giggle at his scowl, snapping back up and smoothing out your skirt. Aizawa bites down on the spoon in between his teeth, he swears he can feel his teeth cracking. Better his canines than his will.

This only marks the beginning of a long week for your father’s right-hand man. The proceeding days turn to nights at a snail's pace. The past week has been inching towards disaster with every minute of alone time you could steal with Aizawa.

“Eraser, what are you doing up so late.” Your voice curls around his shoulder, the whine tugging him towards your open bedroom door. It’s late, far too late for you to be up to anything good.

You always like to push your luck, playing a game you know Aizawa won’t let himself win. Pressing firmly against the line but never pointing your heel across. Maintaining your immunity, feigning innocence behind a soft pout. Your appointed guardian isn’t fooled by any honeyed façade you build around his associates. He knows what you are at the core.

He tries to shake off your pull, but the way your voice lilts against the long hallway is magnetic. The past few nights have been the same song and dance, your disarming call to him as he trudges to one of the many guest bedrooms. Every night he gets closer, heavy feet and tense nerves guiding him towards your warm voice. He’s weathering a sea, you’re the siren hell-bent on his drowning.

“I told you not to call me that, little girl.” His response to your wanton call is shallow, the nickname is one he hates the sound of, especially rolling past your lips.

“Do you like what you see?”

Aizawa’s brows set harshly as he looks on to where you lie nestled in pillows and silk. You have nothing but a loose, light pink camisole to cover your body, cotton panties pulled down to your ankles with shameless intent. Your legs are spread wide for your viewer’s pleasure, two fingers brush against your lips, dragging lazily- up and back down.

Aizawa knows what you really are, a petulant brat.

You pull at the soft skin, spreading yourself to unveil the tight, clenching hole. He leans his shoulder against the jam, eyes drinking you in where his body shamefully wishes to be. The groan aching deeply in his chest is not lost on you as your other hand pulls the hem of your shirt upwards to catch in between your teeth.

The soft plush of your breasts bounces slightly, nipples peeking out from the folds of fabric, now fully exposed to the inky-black stare of your voyeur. There’s nothing left to his imagination now, the question that haunts sleepless nights, palming a large hand up and down his cock and imagining something softer and smaller. The picture of what his boss’s precious daughter would look like squirming under him becoming clearer beyond all reason.

Aizawa should turn heel and walk away, he should slam your bedroom door shut and count the days until your father’s return with a measured distance. He should walk away. He should-

A soft whimper drags him from contemplation and back to the writhing succubus center stage. Your fingers move quickly against your aching clit, drawing out babbled pleas to hit harshly against the tall, brooding presence at your door.

“I’ve had about enough of your games, bunny. Your father tasked me to keep you out of trouble, but you are the trouble.” Aizawa’s words hit your ears mockingly, but they sound more like an invitation than a warning, especially as his body inches forward, breaching the threshold of your bedroom inch by inch.

Two fingers slip past your lips, pushing in and drawing back slicked with arousal. You repeat the action, slowly, ensuring the boring set of eyes are trained on where you clench desperately; wanting to put on a good show with your bodyguard in the front row.

Aizawa’s head is swimming, dizzy and drunk. He wants to tear you apart, to lay claim to the twitching prize between your legs. If you struggle around two of your own much smaller fingers, it would be nearly impossible to wrap you around his thick cock.

That is, not without breaking you.

The heated pants escaping you pick up in canter, your audience winding a tight cord with his presence alone. Aizawa is unrelenting in his deep, unblinking stare, stepping towards your bed slowly. Once his body is looming over you, the coil in your stomach has turned into a hair pinned trigger.

“Such a messy little slut. Getting off to the attention aren’t you?” You’re rendered dumb at his comment, Aizawa barely has to press his thumb into your chin before your mouth hangs open. You look up with glassy eyes, fingers sore from working against your pussy, chasing a high you can only imagine how fast Aizawa could steal from you. His expression is as neutral as always, but the despondency doesn’t quite shadow the fire burning in his eyes. You watch him lean forward slightly, a string of saliva falling downward to land against your tongue. His spit feels hot, you can taste the remnants of cigar and mint gum as you swallow.

You come undone in a litany of cries, pleading with your captor. His hold is passive as he looks at you, watching you cum against your fingers, the squelching sounds make his mouth dry. The only source of hydration is at the apex of your thighs. Visions flash before his eyes, images of what the curve of your breasts look like as he’s buried tongue deep, lapping you up post-orgasm and pushing you over once more for good measure.

Aizawa retreats, lest he pulls you against his mouth while your cunt is still pulsating, he needs to escape before your knees are pressed to your shoulders. He slams your door closed harshly, leaving you with the taste of his contempt for you on your bottom lip.

You’re quick to sleep, body falling into the warmth of unconsciousness coupled with dreams of what a certain set of fingers would feel like against you. How the scars and calluses would brush against your most intimate inches of spongy flesh, how he would stretch you.

You can almost feel the soreness in between your legs and the heavy slap of something against your stomach. You can almost remember the whispered confessional swimming in the back of your head, the soft grunts from above your sleeping form. As sunlight stretches across your sleep-stiff body, your hand trails down over your naked skin, maybe you aren’t the only one playing games this week.

You could have almost sworn you had gone to sleep with panties on.

The car ride to your father’s bar was filled with unflattering tension. You had protested in vain that going with Aizawa wasn’t necessary, but had been met with a dismissive, “I don’t trust you to behave.”

“I’m not a child, Eraser. I don’t see why I couldn’t just sit at home.” You wobble behind your escort, heeled boots clacking against the gravel.

As you enter the building, a young mop of violet hair flanks Aizawa down with a stack of papers. The man is nameless to you but is familiar enough to be assumed under your father’s thumb.

Aizawa looks over the document’s now held in front of him with care, rolling up the sleeves to his crisp dress shirt as his eyes scan the pages. You note the shimmering silvered skin of a scar under his left eye, pronounced by the harsh lighting surrounding you. His hair is held up partially by a tie, the loose strands framing his face.

“Are you listening to me, little girl?” You're snapped back from watching his mouth curling around syllables to actually make out what they’ve been saying.

“Go sit down, I’ll only be a few minutes.” You nod along and turn to perch at the bar, but stop at the grip pulling you back for one final order. “Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Aizawa leaves you to stew in the subtle brush of his pointer finger against the tender skin of your wrist, he rubs the skin subtly before disappearing to the back rooms.

The minutes ticking by are agonizing. Aizawa, usually the epitome of brief, has been gone long enough for the condensation on your glass to mar the wood below it in countless ringlets. You twirl the straw against the strawberry liquor, willing time to crank by faster with the action. The drink in your veins isn’t nearly enough to get you drunk but does make the opening of the front door unnoticeable.

Your back is facing the heavy wood, unaware of the two strangers now approaching until the curdling sound of one man’s voice hits the shell of your ear.

“Well, well, look what we have here. Why don’t I buy you a drink, princess?” Each man steals one of your sides, enclosing you into a tight, predatory huddle.

“This is my bar. I don’t need you to buy me anything.” You try to shake off the nauseating feeling of their bodies so close to you, gut twisting uncomfortably as one man’s breath crawls across your shoulder blades. They’re both so close. Too close.

“Wow, this little kitty cat’s got some claws, don’t she?” You feel hands curl around each bicep, a bruising grip right below your armpits. Your body is hoisted up, your balance off at the jarring upheaval.

Possible escape routes flash across your mind but all seem impossible. Would trying to shake off the still faceless strangers even work? And even if you sprung free, would you make it to the back office before they caught up? Should you try to scream? Would Aizawa hear you?

Before you can make any moves, you feel the flat side of a knife at your collarbone. A chill rattles down your spine at the contact, two inches of metal keeping your entire body compliant.

Their intent is clear, you’ll be coming with them, and by the sharp point of a blade digging into the first layer of skin-- you’ll be coming quietly.

A mixture of shock and disbelief compels your body into compliance, dragging you to the front door and closer towards an awaiting trunk.

“Your carriage, princess.” You hear the shorter man on your right, his voice at your neck sounds waterlogged through the blood rushing in your ears. Any protests die at the knife against your skin, digging in shallowly and pricking a small trail of red along your clavicle.

A sharp snap sounds behind you, like a piece of thin wood under a heavy boot. One of your captors falls in a pile next to you. You’re turned around to meet a familiar pair of venomous, black eyes, Aizawa’s words roll from his tongue with a growl.

You’re pulled at the wrist, stumbling back into the strong chest of your appointed bodyguard.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my bunny?”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[btswrckd]

War of Hearts

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, slight angst, mentions of weapons such as guns and knives, brief mention of smut, future smut

A/N: I wanted to post this as a one-shot, but naturally, I couldn’t condense it enough. There’s just too much that can’t be left out. But the good news is that I’m about 90% done with this fic and should be able to post it in maybe 3 parts. Enjoy guys!

Also, title is inspired by War of Hearts by Ruelle. Go listen to her music, it’s amazing!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re asking me to do what, now?” you hiss through clenched teeth, fingers curling into the underside of the armrest of the boarding room chair. How your idiot cousins managed to both purchase a rather nice building in the middle of the city, and run a legitimate business as a cover to their true nature, is a mystery to you. Yet here you are, ten seconds from launching yourself across the table to strangle either one of them. 

“I don’t believe I stuttered,” Joongki is confident in the way he answers you and buttons his suit jacket. “And I didn’t ask you to do anything, I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”

Your eyes flicker to Jeonghan as he stands by his brother and nervously stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He catches your eye, licking his busted lip as you raise an eyebrow, as if waiting for him to confirm what Joongki just said. You watch his hand come up to rub at his sore jaw and get some satisfaction as he works his jawbone back and forth.

Joongki lets out a heavy sigh as his brother all but whimpers under your gaze. He was well aware of how much you’d fight their men in getting you to the building, but he wasn’t prepared for the strong swing of your fist, or the nearly deafening sound of said fist cracking his younger brother across the face. 

“We’re all each other has,” Jeonghan finally pipes up after deducing that his jaw was not broken. “This is for your own safety, Y/N. I don’t like it any more than you do but there’s no other option.”

“I will not be thrown under lock and key just because you two have enemies.” You’re standing before either of them can argue. “I didn’t ask for this! For you two to be who you are and making my life more difficult than it already is!”

Joongki scratches at his brow when a mop of messily done up chestnut hair pops up over the cubicle wall separating her from the boarding room. He waves his secretary away with a slight twitch of his lips, watching the flushing of her cheeks and bobbing of her head before it disappears. He’s too busy smirking down at his feet to notice the way you swing around the chair. Or the way Jeonghan desperately reaches to stop you from storming out. What he does notice is the small ‘oomph’ leaving your mouth when you stumble into somebody, and suddenly he’s brought back to the importance of the situation.

You don’t expect to be stopped, you certainly don’t expect to be stopped by a firm chest and steadying hand on your hip. When you finally catch your bearings, you blink up at the man that had somehow walked into the room without making a sound. It’s with a heavy heart that you recognize this man despite having lost contact with him years ago. You were children when you’d last met so it takes you a minute to see him clearly, your eyes roving all over his face. Starting with what used to be his bouncy black locks that were now replaced with slicked down hair, to the never changing intensity of his dark brown eyes, down to the defined jaw that used to harbor a little bit of cute chub, and finally back up to his plush lips that split into a grin. 

“You,” you breathe airily and your stunned reaction only makes his smile grow wider. 

“You,” he mimics and tilts his head playfully, eyebrows raised high in mock surprise. “It’s nice to see you too, princess.”

“Mr. Kim,” Joongki reluctantly smiles while extending his hand to greet his rival, fingers tensing around the man’s answering hand. “Thank you for coming. I’m aware that my brother and I are asking a lot from you and that this situation isn’t exactly ideal for either party, but I just want to thank you for helping us out.”

“I never said this situation wasn’t ideal for me.” Kim Taehyung gave one final squeeze to Joongki’s hand before slipping it into the pocket of his pants. His other hand remains firm on your hip, the heat from his palm burning through the denim of your jeans and making your breath hitch. “I believe my father’s been hoping to merge our families for quite some time. I look at this as an opportunity rather than a ‘situation’.”

“Yes, well.” Joongki shifts uncomfortably on his feet. The Kim family had great influence over 90% of the city and before your grandfather’s passing, Mr. Kim had high hopes of taking two entities and making them one strong force. With your grandfather’s death came the need for new leadership and it fell heavily on Joongki’s shoulders. To say he’d snubbed the Kim family when it came to working together would be putting it lightly. “It seems your father will be getting exactly as he’s always wanted.”

Jeonghan thrusts an elbow to his older brother’s arm. He may not understand the magnitude of being a leader, but he knows when to play nice, and this moment called for practically kneeling down and kissing the Kim family’s feet. He looks to the way you stand stiff in Taehyung’s arms and the curling of your fingers against his suit vest. For a moment, he considers calling the entire thing off and convincing his brother to find another way to keep you safe. He opens his mouth to do just that when Taehyung speaks.

“I have every intention of keeping Y/N safe, be it from whoever is threatening you, my own family, or even you two.” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbles in his chest as his hand pulls you ever so slightly closer. “My father may have wanted this for some time, but believe me when I say that I’ve wanted it longer. Nothing and no one will hurt her, I promise you that.”

Jeonghan and Joongki share a concerned glance with each other before your voice breaks the silence. 

“Kim Taehyung.” His name sounds foreign coming from your mouth. The last time you’d seen him you were being carted away by your parents at the age of 10. The sudden announcement of your family’s move left you waving to a chubby cheeked, teary eyed Taehyung as your father pulled away from your childhood home. They died not soon after and you were taken under the care of your grandfather along with Joongki and Jeonghan. But even after your grandfather reestablished a relationship with the Kim family, you hadn’t seen Taehyung again since that day.

“Princess,” he husks out, eyes dropping to your lips and thumb stroking your hip in soothing circles as if it were going to help any. Something dark is swirling in your eyes as you regard him, and he’s sure you don’t recognize it as lust but he does. He sees it fester and simmer before you blink it away and sneer up at him. 

You cousins simultaneously wince as you draw back and take one quick strike to Taehyung, kneeing him in the groin with a huff before you stomp out of the room. When Taehyung slumps to the floor with a pain filled groan, Joongki feels a bit of sympathy for him. Your temper and raging need to fight against anything and everything to do with this life will be a daily struggle. Jeonghan coughs to hide his laugh as Taehyung’s right hand man looks torn between helping his boss, or chasing you down to make sure you don’t get too far. This will certainly be entertaining to watch.

------------------------------------------------------

“Let go of me!” you grunt out as Taehyung adjusts your frame on his shoulder. You’re kicking and pounding against his back with the hopes of getting free and escaping, but those hopes are dashed when he tosses you on the mattress of the master bedroom. You scramble back against the headboard as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves. The frustrated roll of his shoulders and neck is undoubtedly sexy, but it also serves as a reminder that you aren’t meant to find him attractive. At all. As you curse yourself for even thinking as much, he’s snatching your ankles and dragging you down the bed.

Taehyung would never hurt you, he knows that you know that, but watching the small bit of fear flitting across your face has him smirking down at you. He plants both hands on either side of your head to cage you in, hips pressed to yours as you unconsciously widen them to accommodate his frame. “If you wanted to go out, princess, then you could have asked. Jungkookie and Jimin would gladly drive you wherever you want to go.”

“Even away from you?” You glare at him, panic washing over you when you feel the bed dip and he’s on his knees, the added weight pulling you closer to him. His arms slide forward until his nose grazes yours. He’s so close that he could kiss you and you think he’s going to until his nose skims down the length of your neck instead.

“There is no getting away from me, princess,” he whispers against your skin. “I’d think you’d know that by now. You’ve been trying to run from me for the last 6 months and it’s gotten you nowhere.”

You’d beg to differ, Being underneath him was surprisingly pleasant. The push of his hips against yours made you gasp and arch into his chest. You slam your eyes shut to get ahold of yourself, silently reciting your mantra of ‘I’m not a horny teenager, I’m a grown woman, and I am not attracted to my husband’. 

Taehyung could smell the sweet scent of berries on your skin from that damn bottle of lotion you love so much. He didn’t think it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object but he is. He’s also tempted to throw the stupid thing away and burn down every Bath and Body Works store so you can’t get another one. The image of your hands slathering the cream up and down your smooth legs makes him groan and push against you a little harder. He likes to think he isn’t some creep who forces himself on a girl, and if you weren’t so responsive, he wouldn’t even touch you without permission. 

A lot of men in their line of work didn’t think consent was an issue, some of them even found the fight to be a turn on, and you’re grateful that Taehyung‘s not that kind of man. In fact, he’d said on several occasions that he wouldn’t come closer than necessary if you weren’t okay with it. He even went as far as sleeping in one of the many guest rooms in the house, dropping the one and only key to the master bedroom in your hand so only you had access to it. This went on for 2 months before you’d lashed out and tried sneaking off for a night out with friends. Naturally Taehyung had hunted you down and dragged you back to the house, lecturing you on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone where you’d be. The next morning his things had been moved into the room and he invaded every inch of your space every chance he got. 

You didn’t want to admit that waking up to his face inches from yours was something you’d easily gotten used to, but then again you didn’t actually need to voice it out loud. Not when you’d woken up one morning to find your legs tangled with his, your arms tossed across his torso, and clinging to him like a koala. You had squeaked and fell out of bed in your haste to untangle yourself from him. He had woken up in fear that something happened, but chuckled when he saw you on the floor, blankets and sheets raveled around your legs. Embarrassed and flushed, you’d shot him a glare as he’d gotten out of bed and strode into the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

After that, you had made it your daily mission to see just how far you could push him to his breaking point. Little things such as “accidentally” walking away from Jimin or Jungkook in a crowded area, or turning down a meal that Seokjin had prepared because you were “exhausted” even though you’d done nothing that day, and even taking the hand of Namjoon or Hoseok once or twice instead of Taehyung’s when moving through a room full of people. You could see Taehyung’s frustration boiling beneath the surface and kicked it up a notch by giving your undivided attention to Yoongi during dinner one night. Yoongi of course, knew what you were doing and would have been scared of the repercussions of flirting with you if Taehyung hadn’t trusted him so much.

Yoongi played along with your little show, allowing you to lean in a little too close when talking, whispering in your ear about how much trouble you’d be in if Taehyung snapped, and letting you “subtly” run your finger across his knuckles. He had used his napkin to hide his smile when Taehyung had sprung up from his seat, snatched your wrist, and dragged you to the master bedroom. He had cleaned up the table and clapped Jimin and Jungkook on the shoulders, advising them to use headphones or sleep in the car for the rest of the night.

Taehyung had watched you stumble into the room, descending on you quickly when you had turned to yell at him. Whatever you were going to say had died on your tongue as he backed you against the wall, gripping your chin and hissing something about the possibility of killing Yoongi. You, equally as pissed, began to rant and scream about having your freedom taken away and wanting to teach Taehyung a lesson for confusing your already fogged up brain by being a gentleman rather than the piss poor excuse of a man most gang members are. 

Taehyung had the audacity to smirk, fucking smirk, before crashing his mouth to yours and tangling his hand in your hair. He had tugged at the strands until you gasped and he slipped his tongue in to push against yours. He felt your hands wrenching the fabric of his dress shirt but he didn’t give you room to breathe, instead pressing you against the wall further. At some point he had started toying with the button to your jeans, waiting for your refusal, and when you hadn’t slapped him away, he popped the button open. 

You had gasped loudly at the feel of his fingers, the rough pads running up and down your slit, stopping to press and rub at your clit before he was sinking his fingers in knuckles deep. You didn’t remember much else except for the overwhelming pleasure and the raspy sound of Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung echoing around the room. Afterwards, he had avoided you like the plague until you’d finally managed to corner him in the kitchen one night. You’d been huffy, demanding an explanation for his absence. Not that you’d missed him, of course. He’d said that he didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that night and that he was sorry for losing control, to which you had scoffed. You clarified that discomfort wasn’t what you had felt, you were an adult, and just as willing as he was, and to stop tiptoeing around you.

“Princess,” the bane of your existence growls out, bringing you back to the present. He chuckles, deep and rich, and sends goosebumps across your skin. “For someone who wants to get as far away from me as possible, you don’t seem to be willing to let me go.”

You look down at your hands curled into his shirt and immediately release your hold. It seems you were too caught up in your trip down memory lane to notice. You drop your hands from his chest and avert your eyes to the door where two sharp knocks catch his attention as well. 

“Boss,” Namjoon’s voice drifts through the wood, “your phone’s been ringing like crazy. Your father is trying to reach you.”

Taehyung sighs in disappointment and shifts away, pressing against your core one last time and you squeeze your legs together as if to keep him in place. He recognizes the faint blush on your cheeks as embarrassment and places a soft kiss to your cheek. “Be a good girl and do as you’re told, princess. I know you get a kick out of raising Jungkook’s blood pressure, but raising mine in the process will leave you widowed sooner than you’d think.”

You feel as though you’re finally able to breathe now that he’s out of the room and put a hand to your racing chest. It wasn’t just his blood pressure that’s been spiking lately. You sit up and tuck your arms beneath your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You really thought you were close this time around. The memory of being giddy as you tore through the airport to catch the plane to literally anywhere but here, only to freeze in the middle of the terminal as Taehyung stood in your way with his hands casually tucked in his pockets and his army of men around him. You run your hands through your hair and tug at the roots in anger, cursing your cousins and the day they were born.

Outside, Taehyung tugs at the buttons of his dress shirt while pressing his phone to his ear. “Dad?”

“Either your security system has gone to shit,” Mr. Kim calmly scolds his son, “or there’s a rat in your home. I’m looking through your camera footage as we speak, and unless I’m officially going senile, the cameras look like they’re in some kind of loop.”

“What kind of loop?” Taehyung is already making his way to the security room with Namjoon in tow. 

“A car speeds past your security gate, seemingly at the same exact time every day, same make and model every time too. That’s not a coincidence, son, handle it quickly before it gets out of control.”

“On it.” Taehyung throws open the door to the security room, startling the guys watching the live feed from the cameras. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“Behind you,” Yoongi’s voice makes his presence known, trailing in and sitting at his personal computer to go through the footage Taehyung is there to discuss. “Everyone out.”

The other two men scramble outside with break neck speed. If Yoongi and Taehyung are here then something only they know about is going on, and nobody wants to get caught in the middle of it unless necessary.

“What’s going on with our cameras?” Taehyung looks over Yoongi’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“Nothing,” Yoongi sighs, pressing play on the paused screen while a miniature box with his personal coding pops up in the corner. “I noticed the same gray Tahoe driving down our street every day for the last week, and at first I thought somebody tampered with the cameras, so I built a code to filter through the system and push out whatever was installed to make this look like it’s on a loop. When nothing changed, I did some maintenance on the camera’s themselves, and still nothing. Someone is timing it just right to fool us, because check this out.” Yoongi pulls up another screen, zooming in on the corner of the frame where another car is doing a surprisingly good job of hiding. “So I can’t see who exactly the driver is, but I do know that they wait in this exact spot until the clock hits 3 on the dot. When that happens, they make a call, and out comes the Tahoe. Every. Single. Time.”

“One of ours?” Taehyung’s referring to one of the guys they keep on the property for extra measure. 

“No one here did it. I rifled through their phones, computers, whatever I could and nothing popped up.” Yoongi confirms and points to the screen. “About an hour after the Tahoe zips by the screen, the car in hiding pulls out and goes the opposite direction, also part of tricking the cameras so we think there’s a glitch.”

“And the license plate?” Namjoon chimes in from the seat beside Yoongi.

“Belongs to a little old lady on the other side of the world. Looking for a date, Joon? She likes to read the same books you do and she crochets.” Yoongi jokes, “personally, I’d like a new sweater for Christmas.”

“Find out who it is.” Taehyung doesn’t laugh, not exactly appreciating the joke, and storms out of the room, throwing the door open so wide that it smacks against the wall.

----------------------------------------------------

You don’t recognize your own reflection. The woman in the mirror with foundation caked on much too heavily, curled and mascara filled lashes, and lips painted in a color that was meant to seem natural, did not look a thing like you. You’re close to wiping your face clean when the door to the room swings open and Jeonghan strolls in like he owns the place. It occurs to you that he probably does. 

“What?” you huff at him as he comes up behind you. 

“I know you’re angry,” he whispers, sadness in his eyes as he meets your reflection. “But we promised grandpa that we’d take care of you. Too much is happening for us to not take precaution. Everyone knows how much you mean to us and if they get to you, we’d be devastated.”

“Then why can’t I go abroad?” you ask, turning to him with pleading eyes and he takes a step back. You see tears building in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. He’s proud, you realize, as a smile spreads across his face. He’s proud of you, proud of who you are as a person despite the kind of business your parents ran. 

“You’re gorgeous, little cousin,” Jeonghan lets out a shaky exhale, unprepared for the whirlwind of emotions slamming into him. “Grandfather, our parents, everybody would have loved to be here. To see you---.”

“Signing my life away?” you don’t let him finish whatever he was going to say. You don’t want to hear it. There was a time when you believed your wedding day would be a celebration, not a life sentence. You look down to the white of your dress, the gown suddenly felt too constricting and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off. “I don’t want this, Joenghan, please don’t make me do this.”

“If this were anyone else, I’d whisk you away without argument.” Jeonghan looks away from your face to keep himself from ruining everything. “But this is Taehyung, Y/N. You used to be friends and you cared so much for each other. We’ve known the Kim family for so long now that this would have happened eventually, don’t you think?”

“I would have still liked to have the option!” You stand from the chair and stalk towards him. “My friendship with Taehyung ended when we were children. I don’t know who he is now or what he’s done to get this far, but I do know that anyone willing to go to this length to get what they want is not someone to be trusted.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Joongki steps into the room and looks to his brother to find relief crossing his face. “It seems I got here just in time, little brother, you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“She scares me,” Jeonghan admits while moving for the door. “Men with guns, knives, even the occasional psychopath I can handle, but Y/N? Nope, that’s asking too much.”

You glare at your cousin slipping outside before you can say more, and you turn to Joongki. “I’m not being dramatic, you jackass, I’m being logical. You guys have hovered over me my entire life, is it so wrong to want control over at least this part of it?”

“I don’t need to remind you that this is for your own safety.” Joongki’s tone is harsh, a complete contrast to Jeonghan, but harsh was something you could fight against. Harsh, you could throw back in his face. The gentle lull of Jeonghan’s voice, you couldn’t, and often found yourself feeling guilty for hurting him.

“I don’t need to remind you that even if my parents were still alive, this isn’t the life I would have chosen,” you spit back at your eldest cousin, watching his shoulders tense. “Even if grandfather were still alive, I would have fought tooth and nail against this just like I am now. What the hell, Joongki? Weren’t you the one that was opposed to merging the families in the first place? And what, because you and Jeonghan pissed off some people, I have to pay the consequences?”

“Powerful people, Y/N,” Joongki hisses at you, “powerful people that wouldn’t think twice about torturing you to get to us.”

“So then this is more about protecting yourselves than it is me?” Your chest rises and falls with the building anger, and he looks at you with so much fire in his eyes that you’re sure Joongki would strike you at any moment. “This is about not having to babysit me anymore and dumping me off on some poor sack whose life I’m about to make a living hell!”

“It was always about you!” Joongki roars, the volume making you drop your eyes to the ground as you had with your grandfather and father. They’d never hit you, never even so much as raised a hand to you, but they were able to correct your behavior with their voices alone. “We didn’t babysit you, Y/N, we took care of you. We are still taking care of you not because we think we’re obligated to, but because you are our baby cousin. The only family we have left and someone is threatening that, threatening you, and if you think that doesn’t haunt us every time you’re out of our sight, then you’re wrong. I’d do this for Jeonghan too if I had to, I’d even do it for myself, as long as all of us are safe and alive. You want to make a mess of Kim Taehyung? Go ahead, turn his life upside down if you want to, so long as you stay under their protection.”

“I don’t want protection, Joongki.” You look back at his face with a trembling lip. “I want freedom. I want to walk down the street without your men trailing me or the fear of looking back and finding that someone else is. This is your world, not mine. This was our parents world, it wasn’t ours until they were gone. They wanted more for us, Joongki, don’t you remember that?”

“I remember their broken and bloodied bodies when they crossed the wrong person. I remember their pale, lifeless faces in their caskets as you curled up in grandfather’s lap and fought your sleep for weeks afterwards. I remember the way you screamed every time you shut your eyes because all you could see was ‘the bad man with a gun’. I remember promising grandfather that I would do whatever it took to keep you and Jeonghan from suffering the same fate that our parents did.”

You turn away from him to peer out of the window, seeing the guests that consisted solely of friends and family on Taehyung’s side. Children ran across the yard, parents scolded them for dirtying their clothes, and as you glanced around you spotted Taehyung. He was standing with Jungkook, a man he kept close to his side out of trust, nodding along to whatever Jungkook was saying. There was no denying how handsome Taehyung was, or the way it sent shivers up your spine when a little girl ran to him and he scooped her up without hesitation. You didn’t know what the little girl was excited about, but you could guess it had to do with your soon to be husband with the way she looked at him with stars in her eyes. His eyes were warm when he looked at her, accepting the little flower she’d picked from the garden around the side of the house. He tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket, right where his heart was, and patted it gently in promise to keep it on. He set her down and she ran off with a giggle and a blush across her cheeks. You were staring too long, you knew, because he felt it. Taehyung peered up at the window in time to catch you moving away. 

“Y/N,” Joongki whispers to catch your attention. “Please don’t be stubborn about this. Taehyung’s family may run in the same circles as our parents, but they’ve always been kind to us. My refusal to bring the families closer didn’t stop them from keeping a relationship with us.”

“Maybe it’s out of pity.” You try one last time to get under his skin, but you know better than anyone that he’s tired. Tired and defeated and hanging on by a thread.

“Even if it was out of pity, that’s something we can use right now.” He comes up behind you, smoothing down the back of your hair and leaving a kiss to the top of your head. He presses his forehead to the spot he just kissed and sighs. “Mr. Kim could think the lowest of me and the mess I’ve made of our family’s reputation, and I’d still take his help if it meant I didn’t lose you or my brother.”

-------------------------------------------------

“You know, eventually,” Jimin sighs tiredly, trailing behind Taehyung as they walk into the house, “people are going to call the cops for kidnapping.”

“The cops aren’t stupid enough to go against our family,” Taehyung grunts out, the squirming and fidgeting nearly made him lose his grip more than once. It was admirable, at first, when you’d begun thrashing against him, believing you could truly break free. Now, it was a nuisance, and he promptly drops you on your ass in the middle of the living room.

“Asshole!” You seethe, jumping back to your feet and wincing at your sore bottom. You have no idea what set Taehyung off at the mall, but you’re pissed that he ruined the first outing you were actually excited about. One minute, you were browsing through your favorite section at the bookstore, and the next, he was dragging you out by the hand. In the car on the way over, he hadn’t spoken a word, refusing to explain himself, so you refused to get out of the car when Jungkook pulled into the driveway. Apparently, Taehyung wasn’t so mad that he couldn’t throw you over his shoulder and march into the house. 

“Jesus, Taehyung, what the hell is your problem?!”

“Who was he?” Taehyung demands, shooing Jimin and Jungkook to the other room. He grits his teeth when Jungkook hesitates to move. ”Jeon Jungkook, did I or did I not tell you leave?”

“You’re pissed, Taehyung, and look like you could tear someone’s head off,” Jungkook fires right back and looks past his boss to you. You may not be afraid of Taehyung’s temper, but Jungkook is. He’s seen what Taehyung and his temper could do to things and people, and he’ll be damned if you end up hurt because of it.

“That head could be yours if you don’t get the hell out of my sight,” Taehyung snaps, “go!”

“Go, Kook,” you agree with Taehyung. You’ve never seen him go at Jungkook like this and it isn’t helping if Jungkook keeps defying Taehyung, so removing him from the situation seems like the logical answer at the moment. “It’s ok. Just go, please.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw and turns to leave with much reluctance. He’s out of sight but not out of ear shot when Jimin meets him halfway. “He’s going to hurt her, you and I both know that.”

“It’s not as serious as you think.” Jimins pats his shoulder, reassuring him that everything will be fine. “You know that someone’s been circling the house, and had Y/N not insisted on going out today, then Taehyung wouldn’t have been so on edge to start with. There’s too many people at the mall, too many entrances and exits, too many cracks to be slipped through, too many opportunities for someone to get at Y/N if they tried. Trust me, Jungkookie, this anger that you think Taehyung has is actually fear, okay? So leave them be to hash it out and we’ll go running in the second something seems off.”

Back in the living room, Taehyung is pacing, running a hand down his face, and seeming like he’s having trouble putting into words what exactly he’s upset about. When he finally stops, it’s simply to stalk towards you and stand toe to toe. “Why are there rules, princess, hm? Why do I tell you to stick to Jungkook and Jimin like glue when we’re out? Why do you think I stick to you like fucking glue when we’re out?”

“Oh, so it’s ‘princess’ now?” you scoff. “A minute ago, you wouldn’t say a damn thing, but now you’re asking me to recite some bogus ass rules like I’m in primary school. You don’t get to be pissed in this situation, Taehyung, not when I’m the one who’s getting zero explanation for your outburst.”

“I don’t need to explain myself,” he raises his voice, not quite yelling. “I need you to fucking listen when one of us tells you to do something. The guys aren’t here for decoration, Y/N, they’re here to keep you safe, but they can’t do that when you insist on being a brat.”

“I’m not a fucking brat!” you screech loud enough for half the world to hear. It’s actually surprising that Taehyung’s eardrum didn’t burst. 

“Well, you’re not exactly a fucking saint,” Taehyung counters and it’s your turn to start pacing, your hands gripping onto the roots of your hair.

“Oh, my God,” you laugh humorlessly, “Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God, Kim Taehyung! You irritating, overbearing, senseless piece of---.” You don’t know what possesses you to swing your hand out, palm open, and try to slap his face.

He catches your wrist, sees the immediate regret in your eyes, yet still hauls you to the nearby wall. He presses you to the plastered surface, using his free hand to box you in so you can’t run away. Truthfully, he’d let go the second you ask, but a line has to be drawn. You have to, absolutely have to start listening to him and the other guys, otherwise something could go very, very wrong.

“Want to hit me, princess?” he hisses inches from your face as he leans in. “Want to get violent because you can’t do whatever you want anymore? That’s pretty ironic for someone who cried at the mere thought of being hit. I can barely raise my hand to you, but you can swing at me all you want, is that it? That’s not how it works, princess, I suggest you learn that real quick. Now you owe me something for trying to hit me. I let that shit go when you first kneed me in the balls, so it’s more like you owe me two, but I’m nice enough to collect on just one. Tell me who your little friend was in the bookstore.”

You’d like to think you’re not scared, yet it was evident what Taehyung was really capable of when pushed too far. He’s been patient with you, far too patient, and willingly plays along with whatever bullshit you pull for the day. It’s amazing he hasn’t broken your wrist for trying to slap him. Especially, when you know good and well that you wouldn’t hesitate to break his if the roles were reversed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no friend in the bookstore.”

“The guy, princess,” he hisses, momentarily tightening his grip. “The guy in the store that was happily chatting you up. Who was he?”

You wrack your brain for this person he’s talking about and it’s like a cartoon light bulb goes off above your head. “The man who was talking to me about the book in my hand?”

“Yes, that guy.”

“He’s not a friend,” you insist, glaring at your husband, “just some stranger trying to hit on me. Is that what this is about? Some random guy trying to get my number? Your jealousy is really unparalleled, Kim.” 

“I wasn’t jealous. Even if I was, you wouldn’t be the one I’d take it out on.That ring on your finger is there for a reason, anyone who can’t respect it or the boundaries it represents won’t live to see the next day. I’m asking about this ‘random’ guy because I don’t think he was random at all, I think he approached you with a purpose.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is afraid of you, Taehyung.” You relax now that he’s calmer than before. The grip on your wrist was loose and he was drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb. 

“No, princess, they’re not afraid of me in front of you because they have a hard time believing anyone as gorgeous as you would have anything to do with someone like me.” He slumps against your frame, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have scared you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you ask with shaky breaths. It wasn’t easy to hold him up and he wasn’t even putting his full weight on you. “Better yet, why didn’t you ask him right then and there?”

“Where do you think he is now, baby?” Taehyung opens his mouth against your neck, working the flesh between his teeth and using his tongue to soothe the sting before he bites down again. He feels your fingers grip his hair, to hold him in place or tug him away, he doesn’t know. He just knows that you haven’t recoiled from his touch yet.

Your head lulls back and your eyes shut on their own accord. Your hand also has a hard time listening to your brain as it reaches out to hook a finger in his belt loop and pull him closer. He obliges, using one knee to part your thighs and press against you. The sudden feel of his muscled thigh putting pressure against your clothed core makes you jump in his hold. When he flexes that muscle, you gasp and buck your hips. So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re riding his thigh, and he’s moving his mouth to the other unmarked side of your neck.

You choose an awfully slow pace for someone trying to get off. Taehyung’s done marking up the skin of your neck with deep shades of purple and can finally pull back a bit to admire you. He presses his forehead to yours as you let out a breathless moan and your face contorts with pleasure. You’re riding him slow, but with a purpose, he realizes, intent on enjoying every single push and pull of your hips. Both of your hands lock together at the nape of his neck and you whimper at your building orgasm. You don’t recall the coil in your belly winding as tight as it is right now with anyone else. No, only Taehyung can evoke this kind of reaction. 

You know he can feel the wet patch growing on his pants and you’re thankful that he doesn’t comment on it. In fact, he’s rather quiet for someone who’d been scolding you just moments before. You don’t look at his face, not purposefully ignoring him, but completely mesmerized by the deep onyx color of his pants growing even deeper the wetter it gets. You clench around nothing, nearly sobbing at the empty feeling and rocking your hips just a little bit faster than before. You want more, you need more, you need, “your hand,” you gasp out to him. “I need your hand, Tae, please.”

“I can’t do that ,baby,” he groans at having to deny you, ready to shoot himself in the foot for being all too in control. “If I touch you, I won’t stop.”

“You did before.” You want to cry. You’re probably going to cry soon if you don’t get what you want.

“Barely, princess. I barely controlled myself last time. If I do it now, I’ll take you against this wall, and then every other surface of this house. You’re not ready for that yet. You can do this. Cum against me like this, baby, I know you can.”

You’re close, so fucking close but then...

“Hey, boss-- oh shit, sorry!” Seokjin’s shoes squeak against the tiled floor as he quickly spins around to face literally anywhere but you and Taehyung. “Uh, Namjoon and Hoseok need you for something.”

 “What?” Taehyung growls out, watching your entire neck and face flush a deep shade of red out of embarrassment. “What could they possibly fucking need in this exact moment that you can’t handle, Seokjin?”

“Uh, th-they didn’t say,” Seokjin stammers, silently cursing Namjoon and Hoseok for sending him to get Taehyung instead of doing it themselves. Those little bastards had to have known Taehyung was busy. And you. Oh, the look on your face when you saw him hurt his heart. He knows how mortified you feel at having been caught. He can hear the rustling of clothes as you gather yourselves, the panting breaths of two frustrated adults doing adult things, and holy crap Seokjin wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “I can tell them you’re busy, if you need me to.”

“No!” you squeak, shoving Taehyung away harder than you meant to, and Seokjin jolts at the octave of your voice. “I mean, no. Tae’s not...Taehyung isn’t busy. I’m-- I have to be...anywhere that’s not here.”

Seokjin hears you run off, the patting of your shoes carries you across the house with speed he didn’t think anyone but an olympic track star had. He doesn’t want to turn around. He’d kill to not have to turn around.

“If this isn’t as urgent as they made it out to be,” Taehyung’s voice is steely, cruel as he approaches Seokjin, “then all 3 of you are getting tossed into the river, do you hear me?”

“Understood.” Seokjin holds his breath while Taehyung shoulders past him, ducking his head down and following close behind.

Yoongi is busy deleting all the footage from the past hour when Taehyung barges in. “I’m already on it, and no, I didn’t watch it. I’m not some greasy perv. None of the other guys were in here either. I kicked them out as soon as you had Jungkook and Jimin leave you two alone.”

“Right now, Yoongi, you and Jimin are the only ones safe from me.” Taehyung leaves feeling a little bit better knowing that you’d at least be spared from the entire house knowing what happened. 

Seokjin stops in the doorway of the security room. “You little kiss ass.”

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m doing my job.” Yoongi smirks at him. “It’s not my fault Namjoon and Hobi threw you under the bus.”

“So they did know!” Seokjin has half a mind to pummel the both of them.

“Oh, they knew. Namjoon was actually on his way to the living room when Jimin and Jungkook stopped him.”

“I’ll kill them,” Seokjin swears, “I’ll kill all of them.”

“Seokjin, get your ass over here now!” Taehyung’s voice booms, making Seokjin jump and scurry in his direction. 

Namjoon and Hoseok are in the garage, standing a few feet away from the poor bastard tied to a chair. When Taehyung had called them earlier to pick up the guy talking to you at the bookstore, they didn’t imagine he’d look like an average Joe. Guys in the mafia tend to dress nice, carry themselves a certain way, even walk and talk a certain way. But this guy. This guy looks like he could be an accountant or a librarian.

“Man, this is going to really suck if he’s not working for anyone,” Hoseok comments, almost feeling guilty. “He really could be just some guy who saw a pretty girl and tried to get her number.”

“I’d agree if he wasn’t carrying Cecil’s business card.” Namjoon hands the man’s wallet to Hoseok.

“It must be nice to have such a big ego that you’d make professional hitman cards and label them as ‘business’.” Hoseok rifles through the wallet, pulling out credit cards, debit cards, cash, a few photos, until he finally finds a little white paper with Cecil’s number scrawled across it. “I’d hardly call this a business card.”

“Hobi, focus,” Namjoon reminds him, tilting his head in the man’s direction.

“Alright.” Hoseok approaches the man and bends to his sitting height, producing an I.D. card. “Sunho. How do you know Y/N?”

“Who?” Sunho whimpers, blood seeping from his busted lip. “I-I don’t even know who that is.”

“Seemed pretty chummy with her in the bookstore this afternoon.”

“That girl?” Sunho is quick to shake his head. “I just thought she was really cute, that’s all. I didn’t know she was married.”

“Ok, then how do you know Cecil?” Hoseok moves on to the next question without missing a beat. 

“I don’t, I swear!”

“Why else would you have his card?” Namjoon asks as the garage door swings open, a very pissed looking Taehyung strolling in a second later. He whistles low and grips the back of Hoseok’s shirt to haul him out of Taehyung’s path. 

“Oh, hey, Seokjin.” Hoseok shoots him a teasing smile. “I see you were able to get Taehyung’s attention.”

“I swear to God, I will fuck you up right here and now, Hobi.” Seokjin glares at the younger man before turning his attention to Taehyung and Sunho. 

“Sunho,” Taehyung sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders. “I was very, very fucking busy inside my home and I was interrupted before anything productive got done.” He shoots forward and braces his hands on the arms of the chair Sunho is tied to. “So you see, I’m not in the mood for playing games. I’m going to explain to you how this works very carefully. Ready?”

Sunho manages a pathetic nod and Taehyung stands straight while undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves and rolls them up his forearms. He swallows the saliva gathered on his tongue, panic washing over him when Taehyung produces a crowbar from the workbench he’s only now seeing.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Taehyung explains, pointing one end of the crowbar at Sunho. “If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you go. Pay for the hospital bill that’s sure to wrack up given what these two have done to you,” he pauses to point at Namjoon and Hoseok, “and set you up for life as an apology. Sound fair?” He doesn’t wait for Sunho’s reply before continuing. “But if you lie to me, this crowbar will be the least of your worries, definitely one of the less painful weapons in our arson. Now tell me, how do you know Cecil?” 

Sunho’s face is covered in tears by the time Taehyung is finished talking. His body shakes with how hard he sobs. “He ap-approached me last month, p-paid me $3,000 to drive a gray Tahoe down whatever street his guys called from. I didn’t think anything of it, until it got really weird. I noticed they’d only call me once a day at 2 or 2:30, tell me to wait at the end of your block until it hit 3 on the hour and then drive past the gate. They gave me your wife’s picture and told me to keep an eye out for her. When I realized they were stalking her, I thought I should warn her.”

“So you followed us to the mall?” Taehyung asks, crouching down to look Sunho in the eye. He uses the end of the crowbar to lift Sunho’s chin up. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t know what I could say,” Sunho sobs harder. “I mean, I-I was helping them stalk her. She’d think I was crazy if I just came right out and said it. So, I just walked up and asked her about the book she had. I didn’t know what the fucking title was, I just knew she had to be warned. I didn’t get that far before you came up and took her away.”

“Did Cecil tell you what he wanted with her?”

“No. Just to drive the car and watch out for her.”

Taehyung looks back to Hoseok, taking the picture from his outstretched hand. He observes the photo quietly. “These your kids, Sunho?”

“Yes.” Sunho’s bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t hurt them! Please! They’re just kids to a shitty father drowning in debt. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did Cecil threaten them?” Seokjin comes up behind Taehyung, scanning the faces of two kids that couldn’t more than 8 and 10 years old. 

“He said I could either take the job willingly,” Sunho cries, snot and tears mixing together at his top lip, “or I could watch him torture my kids until I accept it.”

“Where are they now?”

“Their grandparents’ house. Their mother died 3 years ago, it’s just me and them. I gave them to their grandmother the same day Cecil came to me.”

“Why you?” Hoseok wonders aloud. “There’s professionals out there to get jobs like this done. Hell, even Cecil’s guys, as dumb as they are, could do a better job than you did. Their morality wouldn’t get in the way either, that’s for sure. So what makes you so special for a job like this?”

“My kids’ mother.” Sunho releases a fresh round of tears. “She was a girl he’d taken care of in her teenage years when she was a waitress at some dingy dive bar. There was an accident 3 years ago. A head on collision with a drunk driver. Cecil hates that I survived but she didn’t. This is his way of getting back at me, I guess.”

Taehyung stands, makes his way to the workbench, and drops the crowbar on it. He braces his hands against the bench as Namjoon steps up next to him. “Yoongi?”

“Pulled up hospital records, a death certificate, and foreclosure notices on the house,” Namjoon confirms Sunho’s story. “It all checks out.”

“Get the kids, take Sunho, and get them as far away from here as possible. We’ll clean up his debt and set him up with enough to get himself started again.” Taehyung nods at Namjoon, but stops him before he gets too far away. “You make sure he understands that he needs to get his shit together. And to call us if anything happens, we’ll move his family again if we have to. Go.”

Namjoon gestures Hoseok to follow his lead, untying Sunho and ushering him into one of the many SUVs in the garage. He slides into the driver’s seat as Hoseok jumps into the passenger side, and he backs out of the garage to start his orders.

“Think Cecil would know we’d look into Sunho and set up fake accounts?” Seokjin asks Taehyung, following him on their way out of the garage.

“Yoongi will catch it if anything is fake.” Taehyung undoes the top three buttons on his dress shirt. It’s late, he’s exhausted, and he just wants to climb into bed next to you as soon as possible.

“Do you think Cecil’s after Y/N herself, or just trying to get to the Seong brothers?” 

“We’ll be finding out soon.” Taehyung claps Seokjin on the shoulder before going his separate way. “And yes, Seokjin, it was important, so you can sleep peacefully knowing that you get to see tomorrow.”

You’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of the king size bed, crossword book out, and pencil scribbling across the empty spaces, when Taehyung comes back into the room. You want to say something, want to talk about what happened, but it wasn’t the first time the two of you had gotten a little too carried away. Well, more so you than him earlier when you’d begged for his touch, and then Seokjin had walked in. You’ve never, in your entire life, been more humiliated and turned on at the same time, and some part of your brain insists that it really wouldn’t have been bad if Seokjin hadn’t interrupted. You certainly wouldn’t have had to take a cold shower, that’s for sure.

“You’re still up,” Taehyung comments softly as if he hadn’t seen the light peeking out from underneath the door. He’d dismissed Jungkook before opening the door, expecting you to have simply fallen asleep while reading as usual. He’s unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his shoulders when his ears pick up the rustling of bedsheets. 

His back muscles flex with each move and you bite down on your tongue for composure. “You didn’t apologize to Kook for snapping at him earlier.”

“Jungkook understands that when he’s told to do something, he does it. If he wants to fight back against his orders and be a rebel, then he’s going to be treated as such.” Taehyung unclasps the watch on his wrist, setting it down on the dresser. “If sometimes I go too far, they don’t expect an apology.”

“Because you don’t know how to give one?” Your tone is sarcastic and it makes him smile even though you can’t see his face. “Or you just don’t want to?”

“Because I don’t need to.” His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling the leather band and sliding it out from the loops of his pants. “We’ve been a tight group for a long time, but I’m still their boss and sometimes I need to be more strict than usual. The fact that Jungkook hasn’t been strung up by his feet and left to bleed out for arguing with me earlier says a lot already.”

“I know,” you answer immediately, having seen that very scenario dozens of times before either by accident or because your grandfather wanted to remind you and your cousins of what happens to people that can no longer be trusted. “This is the only time Jungkook’s gone against you, Taehyung, you know that.”

Taehyung whirls around to face you, understanding and patience written all over his face. “I need to make sure that it stays the only time he’ll go against me. The only reason he isn’t dead now is because it was on your behalf, which is his job. Yes, it’s unfair of me to be pissed at him for doing exactly what he’s supposed to, but when you’re with me there’s nothing to be afraid of and he needs to understand that.”

“Something in you scared him today,” you argue as he turns back to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and plain gray t-shirt. “Something in you scared me. It’s like a switch went off inside of your head and you became an entirely different person.”

“I am who I need to be when the situation calls for it.” Taehyung steps up to the bed and braces one arm on the mattress as he leans closer, touching his forehead to yours. “I didn’t mean to scare you, princess, that’s my fault and I’m sorry. I want to say you’ll never have to see it again, but you know as well as I do that it would be a lie. What I can tell you is that it won’t always happen, I swear that to you. Right now, with whatever Joongki and Jeonghan have going on, and the spike in threats against your family, the boys and I are on edge more than normal.” He cups your face with his other hand after dropping his spare clothes to the bed. “It won’t always be this way.”

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life to have fallen into the Kim family, or what you did to deserve one of the rarer, kinder mafia bosses that is Kim Taehyung. You’ve come to realize that you don’t hate Taehyung or any of the boys, but you hate the circumstances behind your being in his home. You’ve always detested this life and after your grandfather’s death, you vowed to get away from it. You didn’t take into account how quick Joongki would jump to throw you under lock and key, only ever gifting the small amount of freedom that came with having to attend your full time job. 

Taehyung hadn’t expected your kiss, the soft press of your lips against his and the touch of your fingers wrapping around his wrist has goosebumps rising on his skin. You don’t kiss him often, only when you’re out at a charity event or at dinner with his parents, and even then it’s a small peck to keep up appearances. You push your tongue against his and he groans, slipping his fingers into your hair and stepping back as you rise up to your knees. The soft pads of your fingers trace up the path of his jawline until they tangle in his soft black locks, and then you’re tugging on the strands to tip his head back.

His other hand is at your hip, thumb slipping beneath the hem of your pajama shirt to rub circles in your skin. He doesn’t know what brought on this sudden affection, but he isn’t complaining. Your fingers card through his hair, one hand tracing down the broad plain of his chest and bare skin burning the tips of your fingers as they reach the waistband of his pants. He hisses out a small ‘fuck’ against your mouth when your hand slips into his boxers, toying with the length of him. Holy shit, he’s huge, and you moan into another kiss as you have a hard time wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s thick and long, you note, using the tips of your nails to gently trace the veins running along his shaft. Precum pools at the tip and you circle your thumb around him to gather enough of it before pumping your hand down, then back up, and then back down again. 

“What are you doing, princess?” Taehyung nearly chokes on the words as he pulls away from the kiss. You’ve built up a steady rhythm and he’s very near collapsing to his knees if you keep this up. He grits his teeth as the hand in his hair dives into his boxers to join the other, pumping along his cock in tandem. His fingers tighten in your hair, twisting the locks at the base of your neck and you gasp gently at the feeling. 

“Earlier, in the living room,” you whisper against his lips, “I was so close to coming against your thigh, but then Seokjin walked in.”

“To be fair,” he growls out and bucks his hips against your hands, “I threatened to kill him for it, so---.” He does choke this time as you squeeze him just a little harder.

“You know what happened when I came back to the room, Tae?” You give him a sweet smile, but you know he can see the devious intentions behind it. “I got stuck having to take a cold shower. I’d blame Jin, but you’re the one who started it, aren’t you?”

“Baby,” he groans, “please don’t---.”

You’re pulling back, taking your hands with you, and falling back onto the mattress before he can finish his plea. You bounce slightly against the bed as you giggle at the death glare he gives you, his chest is heaving and a thin sheen of sweat coats his brow. “Not so fun when it’s you, is it, Tae?”

Taehyung heaves out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. I take responsibility for leaving you the way I did.” He snatches your ankles, chuckling at the yelp that leaves you, and drags you down the bed. He spreads your thighs to make room for his hips and rocks against you. The thin material of your pajama pants does nothing to shield the feeling of his hard on pushing against your clothed core. You still feel every inch of him and your mouth drops open as he grinds his hips. “But what you call punishment, I call a reward, princess.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, his laugh echoing from the bathroom, and you bolt up to hurl a pillow at the door. Why is he so much better at this than you are?!

---------------------------------------------

Taehyung’s home is gorgeous. Well, you suppose it’s your home now too, but the fact that you’re about to be thrown into a house full of strange men and monitored 24 hours a day, doesn’t take away from its beauty. You thought the security gates were a little much when Jungkook first drove through them, yet it’s clear now why they’re necessary. A two story estate looms over you as Jungkook opens the SUV door so you can climb out. 

“Welcome home, princess.” Taehyung stands in the middle of the foyer, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants. He’d had every intention of being with you in that SUV after the reception, but his father had hauled him away for some ‘unfinished business’ with the Ahn family. 

“More like a prison,” you mutter while Jungkook takes the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He hoists it over his own and grabs the handle of your rolling suitcase, waiting to see what your next move is. “The word ‘home’ doesn’t exactly come to mind, Kim.”

Taehyung hums, crossing the foyer in quick strides before he’s gripping your chin and pulling you so close that you stand on the tips of your toes. He feels the clenching of your jaw against his fingers and briefly worries that you’ll end up chipping a tooth with how hard you grind your teeth together. “Call it what you want, Y/N, but this is where you’ll be for a very long time. I suggest you get used to it.”

“Boss.” Jungkook clears his throat, eyes darting to the strong grip Taehyung has on your face before they’re matching his gaze. The slight tilting of his head serves as a warning and Taehyung nods in recognition before releasing his hold. When Jungkook had first been told that he would be your personal guard from now on, he vowed to do his best, even if it meant going against Taehyung from time to time. 

You sneer at Taehyung when he smiles at Jungkook. Whatever passes between them in the look they share is unclear, and it bothers you. If Taehyung’s rough handling was meant to scare you, and Jungkook’s swift response to it was meant to deter that fear, then they were both failing. Miserably. It’s not that you’re afraid of Taehyung, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s how quick he can be at changing his entire persona in a matter of seconds. 

Jungkook puts his free hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, leaving the foyer and entering the living room. He watches you scan the surroundings, gaze lingering a little too long on the loose objects Taehyung has chosen to decorate with. He makes a mental note to have those removed for the time being until you’re settled in enough to not try and kill Taehyung. It’s understandable that you’re frustrated, and angry, and hurt, but it’s also easy for those feelings to boil over and turn into something disastrous. He leads you through the room to the adjoining dining room, then the kitchen, and finally stopping at a door. 

“It’s your room,” he explains as he opens the door and shuffles inside the much too big room meant for you. It’s bigger than the entirety of your last two apartments combined. He sets your backpack on the bed before rolling your suitcase over to the dresser in the corner of the room. Leaving the suitcase be for you to unpack at your leisure, he moves for the bathroom that you didn’t even notice was there at first. He comes out soon after and pulls open the doors to the walk-in closet, scanning it from top to bottom.

He’s checking for anything out of place, you realize, as Jungkook seems satisfied enough to make his way back to you. He isn’t anything like you imagined Taehyung’s men would be, the first couple of encounters with him should have been enough to tell you that. You had just been so adamant in hating this part of it to realize that Jungkook would most likely end up being your only friend. Your actual friends weren’t invited to the wedding out of fear of who may have been there. Exposing them to this life was never an option and you’d been doing a damn fine job of it since high school. Until Jeonghan had spilled the beans about your upcoming nuptials and the girls became giddy. Their faces had dropped when you lied that only a handful of people could attend, and they weren’t on the guest list. It took weeks of groveling for them to finally cave and forgive you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. He quirks a brow when you shake your head in apology. “Are you alright?”

“I was just thinking,” you say, letting your eyes float around the room once more. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Of course.”

“Not just for checking the room,” you clarify, “but for not making me feel so out of place. I really appreciate it.”

“Jungkookie’s always been good at making people comfortable,” a voice has you spinning around quickly, a hand pressed to your racing heart. The owner of the voice beams like he’s just won the lottery, clearly amused at successfully scaring you. “Y/N. I’m Park Jimin. I’ll be accompanying you and Jungkook every time we leave the grounds.”

“Right,” you heave. Catching your breath seems to be a new level of difficulty for some reason. Well, there was one reason, actually.

Taehyung had been right behind you and Jungkook the entire time. Quietly observing you and the reaction you’d have to the house. He’d also been leaning against the doorjamb while Jungkook combed through the room. Which means he’d also heard your gratitude for the younger man and you pale at the thought of what might happen to Jungkook now. Not all bosses like when their wives become chummy with other men, especially if it’s a man they trust, and you fear you may have gotten Jungkook in trouble.

“Do you think of Jungkookie as comfortable, princess?” Taehyung pins you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. He sees the look of panic in your eyes as you struggle for words. When you open your mouth to answer, he cuts you off with a stern, “Don’t. Lie. To me.”

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, clenching your hands into fists. Fear runs down your spine when Taehyung pushes away from the door and draws near. You flinch when his hand reaches out, your body going stiff to brace for the sting of his palm against your cheek. But he doesn’t hit you, his hand frozen mid-air at your reaction. It’s when you feel the slight tug on a single strand of hair that you realize he’d meant to pet your head. You meet his eyes with tears welling in your own, chest rising and falling with short, rapid breaths.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N,” Taehyung whispers, reaching out once more to graze the backs of his fingers against your cheek. The wet heat of a single tear sliding down your face catches on his knuckles and he grits his teeth. “Has anyone ever hit you before?”

Jungkook and Jimin immediately come closer to hear your answer. If anyone had ever laid a hand on you, they wouldn’t wait for Taehyung’s order to find and kill whoever it was. You aren’t just the boss’ wife, you’re theirs to protect now, and they intend on doing just that.

“No.” You turn away from Taehyung’s touch, drawing back to both create some much needed space, and to reel in the flood of emotions you didn’t expect to feel. Being a leader in a crime syndicate meant being vicious and violent, even to your own family if it proved a point. Taehyung was neither of those things, a heavy reminder of how gentle your father and grandfather would be with any woman or girl important to them. “No one’s ever...it’s just something I’ve seen many times before, is all.”

“To someone important?”

“To people who were people and deserved to be treated as such. Not like the punching bags they became because their boss couldn’t push aside his pride or ego.” You take another step back only to bump into Jungkook’s chest. Damn it. Too many people surround you, too many are witness to how easily you can crumble, and you want them out. You want room to breathe and catch your bearings. You also want the privacy to unpack your stuff.

“Out,” Taehyung demands from Jungkook and Jimin, neither men hesitate to do as they’ve been told. He moves for the door right after them, hesitating with his hand on the knob. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees you pulling a laptop from your backpack, along with a few romance novels and a jumbo book of crossword puzzles. 

“Jimin isn’t the only one of the members you’ll be meeting today,” the softness of Taehyung’s voice makes your chest tight as you look up at him. “There’s 3 others roaming around here somewhere and another that’s away on an assignment, but he’ll be back soon.”

You nod your understanding, picking up a book to occupy your hands to keep your fingers from picking at the cuticles of your nails. It was something you’d always done when you got nervous, a bad habit that needed to be gotten rid of.

“I don’t want to do this to you, princess,” he states it like an apology as you draw your brows together in confusion, “but I’m going to take your laptop and phone.”

“Why?” One hand immediately falls to the computer he’s stepping back into the room for. You almost wrestle it away when his long fingers swipe it from the bed. “It’s important, Taehyung. I use it to edit my friend’s photos. She’s a photographer and I help her clean them up when she needs it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He grips the computer closer to his side and holds his palm out. “You’ll get it back soon, I promise. I need your phone.”

“What if Joongki and Jeonghan call?” you scoff, because of fucking course Taehyung knows what you do in your spare time. “They’ll get worried if I don’t answer.”

“That’s a pretty weak excuse given how you tore into them after the reception. I might not have left with you, but I heard all about the way you swore you wouldn’t be speaking to your cousins anytime soon.”

“My friends will think I’m dead if I don’t answer their texts.”

“Your friends,” Taehyung steps closer and leans in, hovering inches away from your lips, “know that you got married today. They know that you’ll be occupied with your new husband. I can bet they’re wondering what you’re doing right this second, but can’t bring themselves to ask lest they interrupt what may be going on.”

Your back hits a wall you hadn’t realized he’d been backing you into. He’s not close enough to touch, yet that’s exactly what you want to do and find yourself pressing the book in your hand to his chest instead.

“I bet they’re wondering if you’re enjoying yourself,” he continues, pressing his forehead against yours. The back of your head thumps against the wall gently with the pressure as he uses it to keep your eyes on him. “They’re wondering if your new groom satisfies you enough, princess. If he’s kissing you like you deserve to be, touching you in all the right places,” his free hand clamps onto your waist, thumb dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to feel your skin, “if he’s able to hit that right spot inside of you over, and over, and over.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slides higher beneath the t-shirt you’d stupidly changed into before coming to the house. His fingers are hot against your skin as they’re splayed along your ribcage.

“I can do all of that for you if you’ll let me, princess,” Taehyung growls without meaning to. He’d only meant to distract you enough to take your phone. However, he’d somehow managed to arouse both himself and you with the way you clench your thighs together. Still, even knowing how turned on you are, he doesn’t press any closer than he already is. His hand doesn’t move any further up your torso though his thumb still rubs smooth circles on your skin. “I can make you feel so good, you’d forget your own name.”

You inhale sharply. You know he can and that he’d be the best you ever had. But giving in now, on your very first hour inside the new house, would be grounds for Taehyung to think you’re actually on board with this whole thing. So you do what you do best, argue. “You really think so highly of yourself, huh, Kim? I’m pretty sure I’ve had better.”

“Don’t push buttons when you don’t understand the consequences,” he whispers darkly, “or throw out empty challenges like that. I might be inclined to take them if you keep it up.”

You open your mouth to fight back, but a yelp comes out instead when his hand rips itself from underneath your shirt and is swiping the phone from your back pocket quickly. You aren’t prepared for him to reel back soon after, nearly losing your balance without him there to hold you up. “Taehyung, what the hell?!”

Taehyung smirks in victory, the phone and laptop in his hands, before he turns around and saunters to the door. “Disappointed, baby? All you have to do is ask and I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

Jungkook and Jimin are standing just outside, backs pressed to the opposite wall, and they both jump when the sound of glass shattering against wood follows Taehyung closing the door behind him. Jungkook wants to check on you, but the satisfied look on Taehyung’s face lets him know that you meant to break whatever had hit the door. “Uh, boss?”

Taehyung hands the laptop and phone to Jimin, who was looking at him with raised brows. “Give these to Yoongi, tell him to go through them, delete anything that can be used to track either device, and have him install the tracking app he created in her phone. I want us, and only us, to be able to access the app. If, for whatever reason, Yoongi feels like someone outside of the seven of us should be able to tap into it, I want to know who and why first. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin disappears with the phone and computer, leaving behind a chuckle that has Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and Kook,” Taehyung claps Jungkook on the shoulder with a mischievous grin, “buy Y/N a new perfume bottle. She seems to have broken her last one.”

[unohanadaydreams]

DAMAGE DONE FOR KENPACHI SOULMATE CAN YOU IMAGINE THE A N G S T AND CONFUSION

 I know ppl who follow this blog have taste because you were the the first of four ppl to ask for this exact combo jdhdjsjs. We are all Kenpachi brain rot compliant.

Features: Cutting/self harm, a real shit start to a relationship, and angst.

Bleach Your Soul: Ask Meme

Kenpachi Zaraki + Damage:

So much of your life was defined by isolation. A patient treated terminal. Everyone paid you the same attention they would a ghost, fleeting smiles and tears that fell over your bed as though it were a grave.

How could you not feel tortured and angry, to be saddled with a soul mate determined to drag you through hell with them? There were times you truly believed were your last. Stabs too close to your guts. Slashes peeling open to far towards your heart.

There was little room in your thoughts to worry about who suffered with you, other than to curse them. Whether they struggled to live or delighted in violence, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. It was hard to care about anything while laying in your deathbed. Through childhood, your heart withered like the flowers always dying on your window sill. If only they’d throw you away for good, as well.

You garnered hobbies to keep busy rather than to enjoy them. Your stitching, calligraphy, and precocious little drawings stained in blood more often than not. The 4th division was your jail. Your soulmate, your warden. Keeping you there, always.

For years, you begged them. Desperate to be heard--to have a modicum of fucking control--, you carved words into your skin. Were they scared the first time you did it? Did they hate it? Did it hurt them?

Vindictive, you hoped all your horrible thoughts were so. When you cut ‘stop. stop. stop. stop.’ you did it on your side and hip, so it would reopen. Again. And again. And again. And--

They never responded. No matter what you wrote. ‘Please stop.’ ‘It hurts.’ ‘Doesn’t it hurt you?’ ‘I hate you.’ ‘Who are you.’ ‘Don’t you care?’ ‘Kill me.’ ‘Die.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Slowly, then suddenly, the damage that had been near daily stopped for so many years stopped. Your family settled you back in the home, a living urn. They said your name and stroked your cheek and smiled too small when you spoke.

Your skin buzzed with the absence of what had plagued your entire youth. Was it sickness or shame that drove your blade through your skin still? Did you just miss it? Was the violence boiling you alive with no where to spill out anymore?

There were times you swore minuscule nicks would appear, healing too fast to smooth over, but staying long enough to feel. Older, able to be among people, you realized what that could mean. What kind of person you’d told to die as a pithy little tween.

Were they alive--really alive? Did anyone else care or were you the only one?

‘Songbirds.’ ‘Hello.’ ‘Your name?’ ‘Sorry.’ ‘Work sucks.’ ‘Too hot.’ ‘Alive?’ ‘Hotpot.’ ‘Cut words.’ ‘Please.’ ‘Alive?’ ‘Shinigami.’ ‘13th.’ ‘Rank?’ ‘Rukongai?’ ‘I’m sorry.’

@

Retsu Unohana, the only woman he couldn’t quite look in the eye, was there to smile all serene-like over him. After he’d lost. Figures she’d be there when he fucking lost.

She asked him all those annoying questions about how his body felt and told him all the things he needed to heal from. He wanted to shake her like Yachiru did when he wasn’t paying attention enough for her liking. Who gave a shit about all that--he lost and got what he deserved. He had to get stronger. Just because she’d abandoned her pride didn’t mean he would. 

“Your soulmate is here, too.”

Kenpachi couldn’t ignore that one. He never ignored that one. Not that they let him, with all their fucking writing. Saying the strangest shit sometimes too.

When he was young, he’d been paranoid, not knowing what the fuck was doing the writing. He’d swing his sword over his calf or side or thigh, expecting to lob and invisible arm off. Running, Kenpachi would try to out pace the fucker.

 Yumichika explained it like having one was exciting. Ikkaku had yelped for Yumichika to knock it off as the man with beautifully kept hands had given himself a paper cut.

“See? It means the person you’re meant for feels everything you do on the battlefield.” His colorful eyelids narrowed, sights shifting between his captain and Ikkaku. “Or in the file cabinet, if either of you would bother to help out.”

The more he understood--and thought about it--the less he wanted to meet them. His soulmate. Kenpachi wasn’t a person who forgave weakeness and anyone meant for him wouldn’t either, right?

He’d been consumed by sleepless nights, futile attempts to nap, and brutal training sessions, trying to keep his failures out of mind after the realization. What if Yachiru had been forced to take every blow the same as he had? Whenever he tucked in his lieutenant, the question ate at him further.

With time, there had come some form of solace--one day he’d find the thrill of a horrible battle again, to drown the thoughts out. But what Ichigo Kurosaki had offered hadn’t been horrible in the way he’d imagined. And here he was, face turned away from Unohana’s thinly veiled impatience, his feelings too complicated to bother with fully.

“Well?”

Unohana stood, like she was disappointed and Kenpachi couldn’t help but snap at her, “Fine. Whatever.”

She smiled, soft as she’d gotten, and went to the door. “Fine to what? I only told you they’re here. But if you’re so determined to see them, Captain Zaraki, follow me.”

@

Grumbling about how much he hated ‘that sneaky shit’, Kenpachi did follow her, and went through the door she gestured at before being closed in with your recovering body. Your body hadn’t healed as fast as his, but that wasn’t a surprise--you’d be a captain for sure if you could pull that shit off.

Worst of all, you were awake, the scar lining one side of your face as thick as his own. No one else was in the room with you. There were no flowers or cards. And your mouth was hanging open.

“You’re alive.”

“Yeah well,” Kenpachi didn’t know what to say, trailing off as one of his fingers brushed over his thigh.

“Everyone is talking about your fight,” you said, filling his silence with a light shrug. “I figured it was more than coincidence that I ended up like this at the same time. I’m glad it was you and not the ryoka.”

“You thought that kid was your soulmate?”

“How was i supposed to know? No one’s seen him since your fight, or so they’re saying.”

“The scar’s pretty fucking obvious.”

“Uh, I’ve never seen you before and it’s not like you’re ever in the Seireitei Bulletin or...or wandering around where people could find you!”

Kenpachi winced, not because of your words, but because the closer he got, the more your sweat and shaking arms showed. You must’ve been like this for a lot of your life. A worming feeling of guilt he seldom felt curled in his belly. Now that he had a person to pin to the thought, it swelled large.

Maybe if he were a softer person, someone rounded out like the long gone Yachiru turned Unohana, he’d say something comforting or concerned or even charming. But his hand was still on his thigh and his mounting frustration at himself, all revolving around his lack of strength, felt thick on his tongue.

“This mean you’re gonna stop with the fucking words?”

You pulled your head back slow, looking up at him like you couldn’t decide between succumbing to exhaustion or lunging at him.

“What if I don’t? What if I just keep going till you respond?”

“You’ll keep going until ya die.”

“Well, great! There’s you’re answer,” you scoffed. “You’ll have to kill me.”

It was a shit start, all things considered, and the silence that took over the room as Kenpachi sat on the nearest chair, so hard it almost cracked, felt as horrible as his zanpakuto refusing to answer him.

“The name’s Kenpachi Zaraki,” he said, resolved to at least get your name.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Damn right, you do. Now tell me yours.”

You wouldn’t have introduced yourself if he hadn’t looked so...well, you couldn’t quite tell what he looked like. Tired, maybe. Tired and wanting something.

So you gave him your name, your relief that he was alive, that you hadn’t wished him to his grave in your youth, outweighing your anger. An apology for putting you here was like grasping at the sky and hoping to hold a star, if his reputation proceeded him. So you let it go as best you could.

And Kenpachi settled back in the chair, grunting in acknowledgement. He didn’t think learning your name was gonna make him stronger, but it felt nice to hear someone talking to him like a person and not a beast.

If he was being honest, it’d always felt nice to be given your words, when so many people refused to give him any. A bit awkwardly, he stayed while you fell victim to sleep, your breath slow before he spoke again.

“Thanks.”

[poptod]

Will You? (Rami Malek x Reader)

Description: Meeting Rami in the back alley behind an awards show.

Notes: ugh ive been having writers block for the first time in like two years so ive only been writing short stuff. i have a couple fics backpiled for various rami characters so thats coming up! gender neutral as usual WC: 1.5k

+

Ugh.

How quickly it all became too much. You wondered, clutching your aching head, why you even came here; large parties were never your scene, public events even less so. A world-wide broadcasted movie awards event was nothing near anything you'd done before. Earlier in the day, as you were dressing and readying yourself for the evening, you stared into the mirror and wondered then, as well, what you were doing.

Maybe––probably––it had to do with the fact that one of your favorite actors' presence was assured, and you rarely ever visited New York, making this the first time you'd been in the right place at the right time to have the opportunity to do this. You steeled yourself then and you steeled yourself now, digging into your clutch bag to pull out a carton of cigarettes.

You fumbled with the cigarette as you reached back in, searching for your lighter. A frustrated grumble grew in your mouth and came out as a curse. With a harsh sigh you yanked your hand out, throwing it up into the air, and sitting with a thud on a wooden box laying by the side of a large trash bin. You rubbed your face harshly, attempting to wipe away the irritation. To no avail––you had no lighter, and your nerves were itching, teeming with aggravation that crawled like bugs beneath your skin. You needed this and the world didn't like you.

The door you'd left the building from opened once more, swinging shut with a loud clanking sound that seemed to echo in the vacant alleyway. Drops of water fell into the puddles at your feet, still present from the earlier rain, and now filled with bits of trash. The very same water almost splashed onto you as a car passed by, its' wheels revving and spinning away through a massive puddle. It must've been midnight, but assholes were still awake as well, and the city lights showed no sign of stopping.

This was why you only visited New York City.

"Here," someone with a deep, rough voice spoke, and you looked up to find a vein-filled hand balancing a blue lighter between the second and third fingers.

There weren't any active lights in the alleyway, but the puddles reflected the street lights that stood a few meters away. That was enough to recognize him when you glanced to his face.

Rami fucking Malek.

He turned almost the second you looked up at him, meaning he didn't catch the sudden, stumbling recognition that flooded your expression. Thankfully, you had the time to calm yourself before he sat down across from you on a dirty (and probably wet) stool.

"Thank you," you said, lighting your cigarette and breathing in the sweet smoke before you said anything else. "You're a lifesaver."

"No, I just have a smoking problem," he said.

You both laughed, softly, and looked away.

You took another drag.

"You're Rami Malek, aren't you?" You said through the smoke that escaped you. It was rough on your throat, but you didn't especially care anymore. Somehow, you remembered a flask of water––just not the lighter.

"Yeah," he said with another soft, bashful, chuckle.

"I like your work. Or, your style," you mumbled as you tapped the ashy end away. He might've been a star of your dreams, and mere images of him might've taken your breath away, but you would treat him like a regular person. "It's.. unique, but familiar."

"Thank you," he said, nodding, a charming grin on his face. "May I ask your name?"

"(Y/N)." You shifted in your seat as you looked down. An ounce of humor came to you once you said, "you won't recognize the name."

"No, but I'm happy to recognize it in the future," he said, tilting his head in your direction.

You broke out in a laugh and a wide, blushing grin, shaking your head. God, he looked good in a suit––all black. Silver in his lapel. His neck revealed colored veins that led up to a jawline that would surely cut you. Why was he talking to you? Why was he being nice?

"You're a charmer," you finally said through your giggling, continuing with, "do you want some?" before he could say anything.

You handed the cigarette to him and he took it, pursing his lips and letting go with a puff of smoke. Even in the hot, humid air, those clouds coalesced and drifted away just as usual.

"You're not an actor," he stated, his eyes fixed on the cigarette as he tapped the ashes away. "Not here for that, so why are you here? Just out of curiosity."

"That's... a very good question," you said with an exasperated laugh. "I'm a teacher, I don't know what I'm doing here."

"Teacher?" He repeated. "My brother's one of those. What d'you teach?"

He handed the cigarette back to you.

"Third graders," you grumbled. He sucked in a sharp breath in a wince. "I usually do first graders, but not this year."

"That's rough, I've heard those are demonic years," he said, earning a laugh from you.

"Yeah, that's a good way of putting it," you said as you doted on the cigarette. "I guess this is just the first time I've visited New York when an awards show is happening."

"How do you like the big screen life so far?"

"Not very much, but I never thought I would," you said quietly, but he still chuckled. "I... I did think about being an actor, when I was a kid. I think a lot of kids do these days, though. Actors are.. like the new Gods. You know, in ancient times people would worship idols, and that's what people call you now..." you met his gaze and couldn't tear yourself from it, "... idols. Images of something to strive for."

He nodded, his brow creased in deep thought.

"After a while the world shows you what celebrity life is really like, and you read all sorts of things, see how people change... eventually you don't really want it anymore," you said, shrugging. "Or you decide you want it, or want part of it despite the other stuff."

He nodded again but had little to say despite being a celebrity himself.

"Which was it for you?"

"Hm?"

A spell broke over his eyes and he appeared to return to normal, having not heard or comprehended your words.

"Did you become an actor because you wanted all of it, with the bad parts, or you wanted a specific part and still became an actor despite all the other things?"

"... complex question," he said after a moment, rocking his balance back and forth awkwardly as you laughed. "I wanted to become other people, transform myself into characters. I was attracted to the job. Not the other things attached to it."

"Well I'm glad you became an actor anyway," you said, relighting the cigarette with a quick drag. "That way I could meet you."

"And I could meet you, as well," he said in that same, deep voice he used when he first spoke to you.

You could do nothing but chuckle and cast your eyes down, shaking your head.

"Yeah, I guess you could," you mumbled.

He reached forward, snagging the cigarette from between your fingers. That made you look up, drawing your attention back to the subtle lines marking his face, and the glow of fire that revealed cool, green eyes behind thick lashes.

A loud wave of cheering came from inside the building, and the both of you looked back at the steel door. Still unopened.

"I should probably get inside, the cameras might notice my seat's empty," he said in a similar mumble.

The cigarette, now nothing more than a filter, dropped from his lips and fell to the ground, squashed beneath his shiny, black shoe.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Have to be," you said as you stood. "Not wasting a fifty dollar ticket on my damn social anxiety."

He chuckled and said, "I'd invite you to sit with me, but there aren't any free spots. How about..." He'd been opening the door, but he paused, causing you to misstep and halt yourself only when your chest was an inch from his. Your eyes darted up to his. "Come see me after the show. I have a '97 bottle of Montalcino at home that I think you'd enjoy."

You nearly choked on your own spit, but fortunately for you, it only came out as a cough and a clearing of the throat. 'What', almost escaped your mouth in the most astounded tone before you bit it back.

Was he propositioning you? Was this a friendly invitation? Why was, again, Rami fucking Malek asking to spend anymore time with you than he had to?

You realized a silence had spanned between you when his eyes flickered down to your lips, at which point shock fully brought you back into your body.

"Will you?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah," you murmured. "I'd like that."